Where Do I Go From Here?

by The Ivory Raven

After a difficult summer, Harry returns to Hogwarts and keeps his homelife a secret. But the new DADA professor leaves him with an even bigger secret to hide. How will he cope, and what does Snape have to do with it all? Warning:abuse, cutting, depression

10. Unwanted Help

Disclaimer: Just in case you haven't figured it out by now…I don't own Harry, Severus, or any of J.K.R's other characters. But I do own Stroper!

A/N: Thanks to you all for being so patient. I didn't want to make you all wait so long for this new chapter, but I've started a new job and I find myself with less time to devote to my story because of it. Just to make it up to you, I've tried to make this chapter extra long. I hope you like it!!

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Where Do I Go From Here?

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Chap. 10 Unwanted Help

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Snape stood silently in the corner of the infirmary, his wand drawn and ready. As the infirmary door slowly began to close, he stepped forward, careful to stay hidden within the shadows. At first, he could see no one there and he had the fleeting thought that perhaps the person had changed their mind and left, but a second later a wand blinked into appearance followed by a disembodied hand.

The wand suddenly blazed into life, its glowing tip illuminating the surrounding darkness, and Snape quickly took a step back so that he would remain concealed in the shadows. The hand and wand almost seemed to be floating as the person moved further into the room and as soon as the infirmary doors were completely shut, there was a rustling sound as Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger came into view.

Snape's first instinct was to confront them and take house points, but last minute, he decided to sit back down and watch. After all, he was bored and he could always catch them on their way out. So with this in mind, he tucked his wand back up his sleeve and settled back into his chair, mindful to listen to the conversation carefully as to detect any possible future wrongdoings by the Gryffindor Trio.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Extinguishing the light from her wand and stuffing Harry's invisibility cloak into her schoolbag, Hermione stepped closer to the side of Harry's bed. Ron, however, sat on the foot of the bed, earning a whispered reprisal from his bushy-haired friend.

"Ron, be careful! Don't sit on him."

Ron immediately leaped back up. "Oh!"

Hermione gave him an exasperated look and then turned back to the bed.

"Harry," She nudged the sleeping teen's shoulder and waited a moment. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah, Mate, we brought you some stuff!" Ron interjected with a louder voice that made Hermione grimace and then look behind them as if expecting to be discovered. But even then, Harry failed to respond, merely giving a light moan in his sleep before shifting position, rolling onto his side and presenting his friends with a view of the back of his head, his tousled hair sticking up at odd angles.

After noticing that Ron garnished no reaction either, Hermione gave Harry's upper arm a shake and a second later, a pair of green eyes blinked up at her in confusion from over Harry's slumped shoulder.

"Wha-"

Before he was even able to properly verbalize his question, Harry was interrupted by Ron's exuberant whispers. "Look, Harry!"

Ron held up a parcel about the size of a shoe box that had been wrapped in plain brown paper and had its lid shut tight by way of a course piece of string that was wrapped about it, the ends tied securely into a knot over the package's top.

"Honestly, Ron!" Hermione shook her head at the teen standing next to her. "It can wait a few minutes more."

"Oh come on, Hermione," Ron pleaded, "Besides, it'll make him feel better."

By then, Harry had re-situated himself into a more comfortable position and was quietly watching his friends banter back and forth, a questioning expression etched across his face. Hermione settled her attention back onto him a few seconds later and Harry could hear the worry in her voice when she spoke.

"How are you feeling, Harry?"

He gave a small shrug of his shoulders in answer and shifted his eyes to where his hands were clasped together in his lap, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the thought that his friends must now know about the cutting, too.

"I'm alright, I guess."

An awkward pause followed his statement, and when it seemed no more information was forthcoming, Ron decided to jump into the conversation in order to break the ever-pressing silence in the darkened ward. Ron sat the parcel he had been toting into Harry's lap, and when Harry lifted his gaze to the red-head, Ron explained.

"It came for you today with the rest of the owl post. I think it's the package of stuff that Fred and George said they'd be sending as a late birthday present."

Ron settled onto the foot of the bed watching Harry run his fingers over the brown paper covering the box and he continued to fill in the evening's quietness.

"Oh, and that reminds me! Mum sent along a package, too. It's been in my trunk since Kings Cross. I'd have given it to you sooner, but with everything that's been going on…."

The rest of what he was going to say died on his lips as Hermione threw another heated look at him and Ron wisely shut his mouth, his face reddening in embarrassment. When the pair looked back at their friend, Harry had sunk lower into the bed, his face a mask of conflicted emotions. In an attempt to change the subject, Hermione spoke up.

"Harry, I got your assignments for you." She pulled her overloaded book bag into her lap and pulled out a few textbooks and several rolled up parchments. "I made a copy of my notes for you so that you wouldn't get behind in any of your classes."

Ron perked up at that and hopefully asked, "Uh, Hermione? Could you make me a copy, too?"

In response, she grabbed the thickest roll of parchment from her lap and swatted Ron playfully across the arm with it.

"No," she scolded, "You can take your own notes."

Ron shrugged his shoulders unabashedly and commented, "Well, it was worth a shot."

Harry, who had been watching the exchange, smiled a little at his friends, his discomfort eased somewhat as the topic of conversation strayed farther and farther from the difficult matters, and focused more on their current classes.

A few minutes passed and Harry was beginning to grow sleepy as he listened to Hermione explain how fascinating her Ancient Runes class was, but just as his eyes started to close, Ron spoke up and pulled Harry's attention back into the discussion.

"Well, I still think Defense Against the Dark Arts will be better than any old Runes class, Hermione." Ron shifted his position so he could speak directly to Harry. "You'll like the new professor, Harry. Stroper spent the entire class period showing us a bunch of different curses and how to block them."

Ron's excitement was evident in his voice as he continued to describe what their first class with Professor Stroper had been like. "You should have seen it, Harry! When he asked for volunteers to try the blocks and no-one raised their hand, he made Malfoy do it!"

Hermione interjected at this point, the frustration in her voice made all the more apparent by the way she had put her hands on her hips. "I told you, Ron, it wasn't funny. Professor Stroper could have hurt him!"

"But, 'Mione, it was Malfoy!" Ron looked flabbergasted that she would defend the Slytherin, but anything else he was going to say on the matter was soon forgotten as Hermione admonished him.

"I don't care who it was, Ron. That curse almost went through Malfoy's block. Professor Stroper should have been more careful."

Finally, Harry could remain silent no longer, and he interjected, "So what if Malfoy's block wouldn't have held. He would have ended up with boils or something and then be sent to Pomfrey. What's the big deal?"

Hermione took a deep breath before answering and Harry got the distinct impression that she must have had this same conversation several times already. "Harry, you weren't there. It wasn't any old curse Professor Stroper had been casting. It was a powerful blasting curse, and if Malfoy's block hadn't have held, he could have been killed."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Snape had been listening quietly throughout the entirety of the Gryffindors' conversation until he had heard the comments made about the new Defense professor, and it was all he could do to remain still in his seat. The thought of anyone, especially a professor, doing that to one of his students, to one of his Slytherins, made his ire rise, and he seethed in anger as the three students on the other side of the room continued their discussion.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Well, that aside," Harry interrupted, hoping to end his friend's tirade, "How did the rest of the class go?"

"I suppose it went well enough," Hermione admitted grudgingly, "Other than the incident with Malfoy, the rest of the class went smoothly."

"Smoothly?" Ron looked at Hermione disbelievingly and then turned back to Harry. "It went better than 'smoothly', Mate, it was brilliant!"

Harry smiled at his exuberant friend and commented, "Sounds like fun."

"Oh, it was! But Stroper looked kina' mad when he saw that you weren't there today, and when he asked us where you were-"

Anything else the red-head was going to say was abruptly cut off as Hermione's elbow poked him in the ribs, and then she looked consolingly at Harry.

"Don't worry, Harry. We told him that we didn't know where you were. We didn't tell anyone about any of, um," She floundered nervously for the right word, but settled on just sweeping her hand through the air in a gesture that encompassed the bed Harry was lying in, "…this." Her final word came out whispered and weak, and it was clear to the others there that she was uncomfortable broaching that particular topic.

Harry's face colored yet again in embarrassment as his friends had come back to this sensitive issue. Suddenly, he no longer felt like talking and he cast about for an excuse.

"Uh, I'm feeling tired. I should probably try to get some sleep, now." Without waiting for any type of confirmation from the pair, Harry slid down in the bed, turning his back on the two as he pulled the covers protectively over himself.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Snape watched as the remaining two shared a look between themselves before they silently rose from their seats, Weasley stopping for a moment to stoop over Potter's prone body to scoop up the brown-papered packaged that had been discarded onto the side of the bed at some point during their discussion. The boy then sat the package on the nearby bedside table as Granger gathered her belongings back into her bag, setting several books and rolls of parchment next to the package on the table before they both made their way down the aisle, heading for the main doors.

It had occurred to Snape that it was the perfect opportunity to take points and assign detention, but the forlorn looks on the pair's face as they threw the invisibility cloak over themselves, coupled with what Snape had learned of Stroper's classroom activities, had kept him in his seat, his racing thoughts keeping him seated as the infirmary door was opened and closed by an invisible hand.

Minutes later, Madam Pomfrey came bustling back into the room, automatically pausing just inside the doors in wait for Snape to make his presence known; she was not disappointed. A mere second later, Snape's figure approached out of the darkness, stopping next to the medi-witch long enough to say, "Everything went well."

She took in his stiff posture and clenched fists, but before she could even utter a word in question, he spoke up again. "I'll be going now; I have business to attend to."

Then, the man strode away, disappearing once again as the surrounding darkness of the corridor beyond seemed to swallow his form. It wasn't until he vanished from view that Madam Pomfrey noticed that the man wasn't headed in the direction of the dungeons at all.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

"Albus, I demand you do something about it!" Snape's hard voice seemed to echo off the Headmaster's office walls. The Potions Master stood rigidly next to Dumbledore's desk, his hands balled in fists as his irritation started to make itself known.

"I will, Severus, I will," the wizened wizard attempted to placate the irritated man before him, finally standing from his chair and extending his open hands in what was supposed to be a soothing gesture, but it only made the man before him seem to growl in aggravation. "I will have a word with Proffesor Stroper in the morning to address the incident."

"Indeed. And when you do, kindly remind him that if he harms one of my Slytherins, he had better hope you get to him before I do." Snape had spoken the threat through gritted teeth before abruptly turning, leaving just as quickly as he had come. And though he let it pass as if it were a figment of his imagination, the man could have sworn he heard the Headmaster's voice talking faintly as he descended the steps from the office, "Perhaps I should warn him, Severus, perhaps I should."

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The following morning, Snape woke in no better of a mood than he had been in the night before. With astute methodology, he prepared for the day, and if not for the silencing spell that encompassed his quarters, one might have heard the growling and shouts from within as his temper got the better of him when he accidentally knocked a pile of rolled parchments from the desk in his study in his haste to get out the door. He was determined to allow himself enough extra time that morning to drop off the batch of calming potion he had brewed the night before. After returning from Dumbledore's office, Snape had been too riled up to sleep, so he set about brewing, knowing that particular task always set his mind at ease. Besides, he had told himself, what with Potter being in the hospital wing, they could use every drop of calming potion they could get.

Snape finished buttoning up his robe and snatched up the bottle of freshly made potion before heading out the door. Due to the early hour, he met very few students on his way from the dungeon to the infirmary, and he had the absurd thought that perhaps it would be a peaceful day after all. But that notion was quickly dispelled as he neared the last corridor of his journey and heard a voice echoing down the empty halls.

"No!"

Snape stopped in his tracks. That sounded like Potter.

"Let me go!"

After hearing the sound of something shattering, Snape quickly set out again and reached the infirmary doors within seconds. Without preamble, he pushed the door open and marched in, but his steps faltered momentarily in shock as he took in the scene. The two chairs that sat at Potter's bedside the night before were now both lying on their sides, and the sheets of his bed were in such disarray that most of the covers now lay piled upon the floor, nearly missing the puddle of spilled potion and shards of broken glass that lay nearby. And in the midst of the mess was Madam Pomfrey, looking disheveled and harassed, holding firmly to one of the boy's arms as he tried to jerk away, her free hand holding out her wand in a threatening manner.

"Young man," she began, "You put that down or I'll be forced to put you under a binding spell!"

Then Snape looked more closely and he could see the raven-haired youth tightly gripping a fork. From the look of it, he could tell it was one from the Hogwarts kitchens, and Snape was able to ascertain that the boy had gotten it when his morning meal had been delivered by one of the house elves. Deciding to step in before matters were made worse, Snape strode over and snatched the worn-looking piece of silverware from the boy's hand before Potter even realized that there was some one else in the infirmary with them.

With a gasp, Potter bolted away from his professor's form and got his feet tangled in the blanket, falling as his momentum swung his body forward. Pomfrey, still holding the boy's arm, was almost pulled down as well, but Snape hurriedly stepped forward, grabbing his other arm and between the two of them, they were able to prevent him from smashing face-first into the hard, stone floor.

Hoisting the teen back into a standing position, Snape led him back to the side of the bed and forcibly sat him down upon it, never releasing the thin arm from his grasp. Now that she had her hands free, Pomfrey was busy setting the room to rights again, making quick work of the job by way of a few well placed spells. When everything was returned to a semblance of order again, Snape finally asked what had been on the tip of his tongue since he first entered through the infirmary doors.

"And what, pray tell, was that all about?"

Potter kept deathly silent, his brow drawn down in a look of consternation. Pomfrey, however, had no problem explaining the situation.

"I was bringing Mister Potter his morning dose of the nutrition potion, but when I came out of my office, I saw him harming himself with the fork."

Snape's eyes flashed downward to the silent teen sitting before him, but the boy refused to make eye-contact. Scanning the length of the boy's arms for damage, he was unable to find any newly made marks, but Pomfrey spoke up again, further explaining the situation.

"Not on his arms."

Snape threw his gaze back to the medi-witch. "What?"

"When I entered the room, he had his pants leg up and was scraping the prongs of the fork against his thigh."

Now looking at the end of the fork which was still tightly grasped in his fingers, the Potions Master was now able to detect the light rust coloring of drying blood on its very tips. He then turned his full attention to the boy in front of him.

"Show me, Potter."

The command was simple and direct, but still Harry was unable to make himself comply. As of lately, he felt that all he'd been doing was giving in to others' demands, and he felt unable to give in on this one thing. As far as he was concerned, they may be able to dictate everything else in his life, but he would not allow them to take this, his only form of coping with the hard things in his life, away from him.

Professor Snape's grip on his arm tightened as Harry refused to look up or acknowledge the man in any way. Silence reigned for several moments, and then Harry was surprised when the firm grip on his arm was released and he sagged with relief where he sat on the bed. For a fleeting moment, Harry thought that the man had given up and would leave him alone; however, his relief was short-lived.

Having grown frustrated with the boy's behavior, Snape finally lost all patience. Releasing his hold on Potter's arm, he drew out his wand and pointed it at him. Harry looked up, and upon seeing the end of Snape's wand pointed so closely to his chest, he floundered backwards across the bed looking for escape from whatever it was that the man was about to do. Snape was quick to cast Petrificus Totalis before Harry was able to get farther away and the spell left the teen sprawled out across the bed on his back, his eyes trained fearfully on his professor, and his heart beating painfully fast in his chest.

Snape calmly tucked his wand back up his sleeve and tried to ignore the "tsk, tsk" sound that Madam Pomfrey was muttering under her breath as she left to retrieve another dose of the nutrient potion to replace the one that had shattered to the floor during the struggle. As she disappeared into her potions store room, Snape set about positioning the boy's body so that he was lying correctly on the bed.

Pomfrey returned a moment later, and catching the questioning look Snape was sending her way, she indicated Harry's right leg. Snape proceeded to push up the fabric of the pants leg without hesitation. Sure enough, just above the bony knee, there were four, closely-spaced, red lines cut into the skin deep enough to bleed in several spots, the bits of skin pushed up at its edges as evidence of the fork's gouging.

Snape wanted to be angry at the boy. He wanted to yell at him, and tell him what a stupid thing it was for him to do. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to be able to walk back out the infirmary doors as if any of this had not happened. But instead of the sharp words and derisive comments he wanted to say, he instead found himself releasing a sigh and informing Madam Pomfrey, "Well, I'll need a copy of his medical file if I am to take over his care."

The elderly medi-witch stood in shock for a moment, but then smiled warmly at the Potions Master. She knew he would eventually do the right thing by taking the boy in and helping him like he would do for any of his Slytherins. She gave him a light appreciative pat on the back and answered, "Of course, Severus. I'll have it all ready to go by the time you're ready to take him down."

Madam Pomfrey then bustled away, leaving the nutrient potion she had brought in a moment before sitting on the bedside table next to the package, books, and rolled parchments from the night before. Snape stared at the fresh marks on Harry's leg for a few moments more before pulling the pants leg back into place and throwing the blanket back over Harry's form.

Snape was about to remove the spell that he had cast on the boy, but then stopped with his wand still in the air as if considering something. Harry watched anxiously, mentally cursing the man that had robbed him of his freedom of movement, but as the drawn wand was again lowered, Harry wondered exactly what would happen next. He soon received his answer when the dark-clothed man stretched across the bed to retrieve the small potion bottle that was on the table opposite him.

Snape pulled the cork and lowered the rim of the bottle to Harry's mouth, but still under the effects of the spell, Harry was powerless to stop him as the bottle was then uplifted and its contents slowly flowed into his mouth. The thick fluid was somewhat bitter, and almost too thick to swallow, but then Snape held his wand to Harry's throat in the same manner as Madam Pomfrey had once done, and one short spell later, he felt his throat swallow down the vile concoction. Unable to voice his disgust, or even grimace at the taste, Harry had to settle on squeezing his eyes shut as hard as he could, wishing he could at least rid his mouth of the taste with a cup of water.

When he finally unclenched his eyes, Harry could see Snape pointing his wand yet again. Harry's heart seemed to jump in anticipation of being allowed his movement again, and he looked hopefully up at his professor. But instead of the Finite that Harry had hoped he would hear, he instead heard a different incantation altogether. Disappointment suddenly hung heavy in his heart at the thought of having to remain stationary all day, for surely that is what Professor Snape intended to do.

However, Harry's pre-emptive bout of worry didn't last overly long, for the next instant, the wand was in motion again and a second later, Harry discovered he had his mobility back. But instead of leaping from the bed and making a mad dash for the door like he wanted to do, Harry discovered that the blanket that was covering him from the chest down refused to move, keeping him pinned to the bed while still allowing him some movement of his arms and legs.

So, that was the spell he was casting, Harry thought as he experimentally pushed against the blanket with his legs to measure how much movement he was allowed. Still unable to rise fully, but finding himself at least able to bring himself into a sitting position, Harry pushed his pillow against the headboard and leaned against it, watching his professor as he wearily waited for the man to do something. But then, Harry felt he would go into shock as the man began talking, not only that, but he was doing so without the large measure of the typical derisiveness that he usually used when talking to any student who was not a Slytherin.

"Potter, it has been decided by the Headmaster and myself that, due to the circumstances," Snape paused momentarily and raised an eyebrow as if daring the boy before him to issue a single complaint, "you will be moved from Gryffindor Tower to set up residence, temporarily, of course, in the dungeon."

The news was greeted with complete silence on Harry's part, but it didn't last long at all as the shock finally died down enough to allow him full use of his vocal cords again.

"What?! Why can't I stay in Gryffindor Tower? I can't be kicked out of Gryffindor just because of, um…you know." Harry gestured meekly to the bandaged cuts on his arms and then turned his pleading eyes on Snape.

"You misunderstand, Potter. You are not losing your place within your house; however, you surely don't think that the Headmaster would allow you to remain unsupervised after this."

Harry found himself unable to utter a single word in refute, and he found himself fighting back tears of anger, frustration, and deep sorrow. The last thing he wanted was to lose his place in Gryffindor, even if it is only temporary, and especially if it meant that he would be taking up residence in the dungeon of all places. But then a thought occurred to him, and he found himself voicing it aloud before he could stop himself.

"But why the dungeon? How is a room down there going to be any more supervised than the one I have in Gryffindor Tower with all of my dorm mates?"

Again, that eyebrow came up, and when Snape spoke, it was with a tone that implied that the answer should have been obvious, "Because the room is in my quarters, Potter."

Harry felt his jaw go slack from the shock of it all, and then just as quickly, it snapped shut again in irritation.

"But why, Professor? Why do I have to stay with you when there are so many others at the school I could stay with? Don't you hate me?"

The last part of Harry's diatribe came out in almost whispered syllables, his voice dying off as he realized he had just voiced a thought that he had meant to keep to himself. He bowed his head and stared at his now clasped hands as he felt his cheeks redden slightly from embarrassment, but just as he was thinking that he wouldn't receive an answer, the smooth, baritone voice of the Potions Master cut through the silence.

"I don't hate you."

Harry's head shot up again as he locked eyes with his professor, trying to measure out the truthfulness of the statement in the man's dark eyes. Minutes seemed to pass in the few seconds the two stared at each other.

"I don't hate you." Snape repeated the words slowly as if both he and Harry needed the reassurance and confirmation of the declaration. "True, we've never gotten along; you are, after all, a Gryffindor," Snape couldn't stop the hint of disgust in his voice that filtered through when he said the word, but he controlled the sneer that wanted to make itself known as well, and he continued on. "However, I have never 'hated' you."

Harry finally found his voice again and said, "But what about all those things you say to me during class?" As Harry waited for an answer, he couldn't help but think about the fact that he had talked more within the last fifteen minutes with this man, than he had since returning to Hogwarts several days ago.

"You will find," Snape paused and seemed to be staring off into the distance, and it came across to Harry that whatever the man was trying to say must be difficult for him, so when he started speaking again, Harry made sure to give him his full attention, "We all have certain expectations that we must live up to. And sometimes, we allow these expectations to get the better of us for so long, that we become lost in them."

Snape looked back at the boy on the bed who was now staring at him in confusion, and he hastened to explain. "I am a Slytherin, Potter. The houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin have been at odds for centuries, a fact your father and his friends made sure I would never forget during my own school days."

Harry winced at this point, suddenly calling to mind the scene in Snape's pensieve that he had witnessed during one of their disastrous Occlumency lessons last year.

"Is it really that hard to understand how a Slytherin's prejudice against their rival house can dictate their interactions with those from that house at a later point in life?"

Harry thought about it and found the explanation eerily similar to the situation he was in with the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia hated the fact that her sister, Lily, had magic when she did not, and that hate transferred itself down to Harry for no other reason than because he had magic. Yes, he understood perfectly well.

Harry gave a small nod of his head and answered, "I understand, Sir."

Snape seemed to not know what else to say after that because the man remained silent for quite a while, staring off into the distance yet again, seemingly lost in thought. And just when the uncomfortable silence was beginning to choke the air with tension, the two were rescued from their troubling thoughts when Madam Pomfrey walked back into the room waving about a file in her hand as if to show Snape that she had, indeed, made the copy as he had asked.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

A/N: I've had several people ask, so I want to put your minds at ease…No, I didn't forget about the marks on Harry's neck. Yes, the adults noticed the marks. It will be a subject brought up, possibly in the next chapter, when Harry and Snape start talking about hard issues.

Please send me a review to let me know if you liked this chapter and let me know if there's anything you would like to see added to the story. I don't know how long it will take to get the next chapter posted, but I hope to have it out within the next couple of weeks. Your reviews always make me eager to write, so, please, keep them coming my faithful readers! Ya'll are the best!!