Disclaimer: See chapters one through six…and if that doesn't tell you anything, think about this: why would the author of a best-selling book series be writing a fanfiction? Key word in there is fan. Got it? Good.
Author's Note: Really, really, really sorry about the long wait. The funny thing about this chapter is that I wrote the first part of it while drunk. I re-wrote it, of course; but you should have seen what I wrote. None of the words were spelled correctly, there were X's and Z's in every word, and there were some parts that I couldn't even understand what the heck I was trying to say! Just think of a drunk person talking, and that was about how I wrote. At least now I know not to type while drunk. : ) I did re-write and correct it, but I kept the drunk copy for my own personal enjoyment.
Again, I apologize for the long wait. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
On to the story!
Chapter Seven: Secrets Revealed and Pondered Thoughts
About three weeks into the school year, Harry couldn't take it anymore. Classes, being the boy-who-lived, acting like he was okay all the time—it was just too much, he needed a break. He needed release.
Now, he would have normally tried not to cut during the school day, or at least have tried not to do it in a rather public place, but Harry just didn't care anymore. He couldn't. It hurt too much when he cared. So, after a rather horrible potions class, Harry snuck into one of the rarely used bathrooms in the dungeons, and he started to cut himself.
He had just slid the pocketknife through his skin twice when he realized he had an audience.
Standing right behind him was Severus Snape, doing the most un-Snape-like thing: gawking. Snape didn't quite know what to do; he hadn't been expecting the sight before him. Harry Potter, the spoiled brat of Gryffindor, was cutting himself.
They both just stood where they were, staring, for several minutes, Snape in front of the closed door, dumbstruck, and Harry holding the bloody knife an inch above his left arm, terrified. Neither knew what to do or say.
Finally, Snape broke the silence.
"Potter, what the fuck are you doing?" he said in a low voice.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Harry snarled.
"It looks like you're cutting yourself," Snape glared at him.
"Gee, really? And here I thought I was playing the violin," Harry shot back as he stuffed the knife in his pocket, pulling down his sleeve as he grabbed his bag, and shoved past his still dumbfounded professor. Harry had just opened the door when Snape realized what he was doing.
"Hold it right there, Potter!" he almost shouted.
"Go to Hell, Snape!" Harry did shout as he ran out the bathroom and down the hallway.
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Harry ran out of the dungeons and outside, and then he kept running until he fell under a tree by the lake. His heart was racing and he could feel the blood trickling down his arm.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Great job, Potter! Now Snape knows your secret! He'll probably tell the headmaster now, if not the entire school. Your relatives are right, you are worthless!
Harry sat there for hours, not really caring if anybody missed them. He couldn't believe he had been so careless. Snape was never going to let him forget this, now. He'll get Dumbledore involved and the manipulative bastard will try to "help" him. A lot of good Dumbledore's help has been so far, he thought sarcastically.
He wondered if he there was anyway he could convince Snape not to tell anybody. He laughed bitterly at that. Like Snape would really do anything that would help Harry Potter.
Life is just not fair.
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Later that night, Snape sat in his rooms, thinking over the earlier incident in the bathroom. After Potter had run out, he had just stood there looking at the few drops of blood on the floor. He couldn't understand it. How could Potter, spoiled, arrogant, famous Potter, cut himself? Why would he cut himself? Snape just couldn't wrap his mind around this revelation.
It's probably just another of his stunts to get even more attention than he already does. Snape thought bitterly to himself.
But, for some odd reason, Snape didn't believe himself. He had a feeling something was wrong with Potter, well, more wrong than there already is.
Snape knew he should tell the headmaster about this, about what he saw, but he also suspected that that was the last thing Potter needed right now. He had seen Albus's office after the incident at the Department of Mysteries; it was a wreck. Potter had gone on a rampage. Everything was either smashed or torn to bits. Snape would have never even dared to think of going on a rampage in the headmaster's office, yet that was what Potter had done, and more. There were still a few items that were completely beyond repair.
Snape figured Albus Dumbledore was the last person Potter would want knowing his secret, except, perhaps, Snape himself.
And yet, it seemed that Snape was the only person in a position to do anything about it.
Life is just not fair.
TBC
