A/N:

Before I jump right in, I have a bit of a concern. I love all of your reviews. You guys are so incredibly inspirational and kind. I also certainly appreciate constructive criticism (I'm looking at you, FatCat91!). It's always good to hear your honest thoughts and opinions. Thanks for your input!

However, there was one review that has been eating at me for months. Somebody mentioned that all Harry did in this story was cry, or feel embarrassed, or guilty... and that he was babyish. I couldn't figure out why it had affected me so much (I really don't mind constructive reviews) until recently. This story wasn't just written to fulfill my angsty fanfiction guilty pleasure. Honestly, as I've said before, much of this story is written from experience.

I debated about even commenting on it. But, as part of my goal is to help explain this subject to those that may not be as familiar with it, I couldn't help but feel a bit insulted. Cutting IS embarrassing, guilt-provoking, and brings tears. That's WHAT IT DOES. Every single time somebody notices your scars, every single time your friends bring up the issue, every single time you catch somebody staring, or you have to admit what you've done... it comes back. The embarrassment. The guilt. It doesn't go away.

To put some perspective on the matter, it's been ten years and I still have those feelings. Harry's secret has been out for what, a month? It's impossible to have him forget and move on. And really, would you expect him to?

I don't want to stand on the soap box for SI. I can't speak for everyone. I just wanted to put that out there. Because I thought it was important to understand.

I love you guys! xox


"Do I need to ask?"

The question stung a bit, but wasn't uncalled for.

"I didn't. I promise," replied Harry sincerely. "It felt... wrong, I guess."

"I'm glad to hear that, Harry," said Snape, his eyes analyzing Harry thoughtfully. "Why do you think it felt wrong?"

Harry shifted in his seat, glancing around Snape's office anxiously. He really hadn't thought too much about it. The events of the day had gone so fast, they all seemed to blur together. Admittedly, his thoughts were elsewhere. He'd wanted to begin the conversation asking about Snape's meeting with Malfoy, but he didn't want to interrupt Snape in therapy mode. He tried to recall his thoughts after leaving Dumbledore's office. To run for a knife? He'd considered it fleetingly, of course, as always. But why he hadn't gone through with it was a question he wasn't sure he knew the answer to.

"Maybe... maybe because I'd already been hit pretty hard..." guessed Harry, brushing a hand over his sore stomach. He could already feel the bruise forming. "Maybe I didn't need anymore physical pain?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "I suppose that's logical, Harry," he replied, but his usual silky voice didn't sound too convinced.

Harry tried again. "I didn't want to disappoint you, maybe?"

"Perhaps. But you opted for Firewhiskey, which you must have known would merit a similar reaction from me."

Yes, of course. "Well, maybe it's because I knew that Firewhiskey wouldn't leave marks," suggested Harry weakly, feeling more stupid by the second. The answer may have worked on Dumbledore, but he knew Snape would see right through his lack of confidence, as well as his distraction.

"Not visible ones, no. But I'm sure you anticipated me looking for you. I doubt you assumed you would get away with it again."

"Well, I mean... like I said before, I wasn't planning-"

"-on getting drunk, yes, I remember," finished Snape. He glanced at Harry thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Any other suggestions?"

Harry ran his fingers over his remaining scars, trying to remember his thought process. He'd left Dumbledore's office angrily. He just wanted to get away.

"I'm not sure, sir. I honestly just needed to get away from the castle. Why is this important, anyway? You said all of my coping mechanisms were linked to my need for control. I just replaced one with the other, right?" he asked, trying to suppress his impatience. He was itching to hear about Malfoy.

"You are absolutely right. Your coping mechanisms are linked to your need for control. I want you to analyze yourself, to know why you make the decisions you make. Understanding is critical for recovery," explained Snape. "Now, think back. Do you remember when you stole my Firewhiskey? How you found it?"

Harry picked at a loose thread on his robes, trying to recall the night in question. He'd felt imprisoned. He'd been searching for something. "I... I was looking for... for something to..."

"Yes, precisely. You thought long and hard about finding something to hurt yourself with. What I find interesting about tonight, Harry, is that you didn't. From what I've gathered, it barely even crossed your mind. Do you want me to tell you what I think?"

Harry nodded. He'd gotten the feeling Snape had formed this theory before they'd even had this conversation, and he was growing tired of failing to understand himself sufficiently enough.

"Draco knows about this," began Snape, crossing his arms. "Draco wants to use it to his advantage. He wants you to continue, he wants to sustain his power through blackmail. You, however subconsciously, connected cutting yourself to Draco's control over you."

"But we already knew that, sir. I mean, I did. I thought about that before... before the vial incident. I knew I was giving in," explained Harry, recalling his conscious decision to let Malfoy win. "I... I knew it. And I picked it up anyway."

"Tonight, however, it barely crossed your mind. You gave in once, but you made the connection that you are allowing these external forces to control you. And when the situation arose again, you didn't even have to fight it. You did attempt to settle for another coping mechanism, yes, but I want you to understand this link and your progress, Harry. If you were to find something healthy to replace this with, it may be possible to adjust your mental response triggers."

"But that's just with Malfoy. I mean, because he knows. I... I don't know if I would have the same reaction to some other issue," admitted Harry.

"Perhaps not. But this is an imperative first step."

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Can... can you tell me what happened when Dumbledore sent Malfoy down here?"

Snape stared at Harry silently for a moment. He uncrossed his arms and leaned against his desk gently, resting his chin on his now linked fingers. "I could sense this was on your mind during our entire conversation," he said solemnly, and released a heavy sigh. "Because I swore to be honest with you, I won't pretend I didn't have to continue my act."

"So you encouraged him," said Harry, biting his lip in irritation.

"He told me of his suspicions, and I did my best to brush them off. I told him the angst-ridden actions of the boy-who-lived were of little concern to us. Yes, I encouraged him, Harry. I encouraged him to stop focusing on such trivial matters. I told him the Dark Lord wasn't likely to think too highly of his obsession with you, and that, with Lucius on thin ice, he ought to be careful about where he places his priorities."

Harry's irritation was quickly replaced with a mix of gratitude and guilt. He hadn't meant to accuse Snape, of course. But given recent events, it seemed incredibly likely that Snape's discussion with Malfoy would have been anything but helpful. "I... thank you, Professor. How did Malfoy react?"

"Arrogance, as usual. He told me that the Dark Lord would forgive his father, and that he didn't give a... oh, what was it... 'Mudblood's dirty sack' what I thought."

Harry suppressed a laugh. "Did you get on to him for language, Professor?" he added snarkily.

"It was a surprisingly innocent remark in comparison to his usual, I assure you."

"Double standard! So does that mean I can start saying 'fuck' again?" asked Harry bravely. He forced himself to hide his smile.

"Don't test me, Mr. Potter. I'm told Argus lets his cat use the trophy room as a litterbox in cases of repeated detentions."

"Sounds better than hanging by my wrists from the ceiling for days at a time," replied Harry, recalling Filch's preference for outdated Hogwarts punishments.

"Keeping your hands away from blades and alcohol? This alternative doesn't sound too bad, Harry. Perhaps I will suggest it."

"Fuck that," responded Harry, and, unable to control himself, gave Snape a sincere grin.

Snape raised an eyebrow, but his faint smile was hard to miss. "Indeed, Mr. Potter. Your vocabulary may be worse than your sense of humor."


The idea of explaining the Quidditch match to his friends in the Great Hall didn't seem too appealing, so Harry had asked Snape for permission to discuss the events with them privately in the Gryffindor tower. He left Snape's dungeon with a heightened sense of confidence. His first real counseling session hadn't gone so bad, after all. And knowing that Snape legitimately had his back was comforting, even if he would still have to endure a few brutal potions lessons.

"Potter!"

Harry turned around in disbelief. Again? It was as if he couldn't have a happy moment without Malfoy's harsh interruption. "Do you just wait for me everywhere, now? Haven't got anything better to do?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Potter. Surely you realize you're in the Slytherin dungeons. Visiting Snape again, I see?" asked Malfoy, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

Harry stumbled through his mental excuses, unsure of what to say. "I... um, he was lecturing me. For the fight." Pitiful.

"Shouldn't that be McGonagall's job?" asked Malfoy. Harry clenched his knuckles tightly. Of course it would be McGonagall's job. He cursed his stupidity. He couldn't let Malfoy know the real reason, but then again, it was only a matter of time before he recognized the frequency of Harry's appearances in the dungeons.

"I'll bet he was lecturing you because of what I told him," mused Malfoy, and Harry released his breath in relief. "Well, don't worry, Potter. I don't plan on telling anyone else... so long as you continue to cooperate."

It was unbelievably childish. How could Snape not see how much Malfoy's interference was affecting him? Harry could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. He fingered the wand in his pocket, trying to list the reasons to avoid another fight. No unnecessary attention. No more visits to Dumbledore. No reason to further test Malfoy's limits.

His tension was well recognized by Malfoy. He glanced at Harry with amusement. "Off to do it again, are you? Make sure not to accidentally off yourself. I've still got essays to finish, you know."

"Don't worry, I know how hard it's been on you now that Voldemort doesn't love your Daddy anymore. Bit hard for him to threaten teachers from Azkaban, isn't it?" spat Harry, keeping his hand over his wand. No unnecessary attention. No more visits to Dumbledore. No reason to further test Malfoy's limits.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed into a sharp glare, and Harry could practically feel the wave of anger that had overcome him. Malfoy's weakness. "So when you slash your poor little wrists, tell me Potter, do you cry? Do you howl, like that dead Godfather of yours?"

Harry tried his hardest to keep his composure. He attempted to recall his list. No unnecessary attention. No more visits to Dumbledore. But it was Malfoy's awful imitation of a dog howling that sent him over the edge. He felt his fingers grip his wand tightly. It was so simple. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Anger pulsed through him as he pulled the wand from his pocket, pointing it directly at the oblivious blond boy, who was now doubled over and laughing hysterically at his poor imitations.

"OBLIVIATE!"

He hadn't meant to shout, but the words echoed off the walls, joined by the glowing reflection of the blueish green light that had struck Malfoy directly in the chest. He felt the rage form into panic as Malfoy was flung across the hall, smashing into the waiting bricks behind him. The hallway fell silent. Harry stared at Malfoy's unconscious body in disbelief. He slowly stepped toward him, keeping his wand pointed cautiously. As Harry grew closer, he felt his heart sink as he noticed the glittering scarlet dulling the usual bright glow of Malfoy's vibrant blond locks.

Shit.

"Malfoy?" he said timidly, attempting to shake the lifeless boy into consciousness. He felt his panic increase as the dungeon door slammed open, breaking the haunting silence of the hallway.

"What's going on out here? I heard... Harry?" Snape's eyes reached Harry's, then drifted downward toward Mafloy. A look of confusion and anger appeared only fleetingly, and was quickly replaced by one of concern and duty. He rushed to Malfoy's side, pulling his limp head away from the sharp bricks. Harry watched his face intently as Snape checked for a pulse.

"Is he..."

"He's been knocked out," said Snape sharply, but he did not bother to look up. Harry recognized the familiar healing spells that came next, and watched with relief as the scrapes began to vanish, replaced with innocent patches of pink.

"Professor, I-"

"Help me get him to my office," interrupted Snape impatiently. Harry stared at Snape hopelessly, begging for acknowledgement of his sincere guilt, but Snape was now focused on lifting Malfoy's torso. Defeated, Harry helped Snape heave Malfoy upward, dragging his limp body across the hall to Snape's office.

After struggling to get him through the heavy dungeon door, they sat Malfoy gently on the couch. Snape immediately rushed into another room, presumably to gather some potions for Draco. Unsure of what else to do, Harry ventured to the kitchen, returning with a wet cloth. He began cleaning the telling blood from Malfoy's pristine hair. Snape returned minutes later with several foul smelling vials. He took turns holding each one under Malfoy's nose, waiting for a reaction. Finally, he spoke to Harry.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I'm sorry, I was just... I mean, I was thinking that-"

"No, Potter, the correct answer would be you weren't thinking," spat Snape, who was now returning the first potion to Malfoy's nose.

"Is he... is he going to be alright, Professor?" asked Harry quietly.

"He's still breathing. Outside of that, I'm not sure. Which spell did you use?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by a loud groan. Malfoy's eyes flickered open, and he stared at Snape blankly.

"Draco," said Snape softly. He pulled the potions away from his face, setting them gently in a vial-holder on his desk.

"Draco?" repeated Malfoy, his usual arrogant tone replaced by a curious innocence. He looked around quizzically, spotting Harry, whose jaw had dropped so low it was now almost at knee-level. "Is he talking to you? Hello, Draco. I'm..." Malfoy paused, scrunching his eyebrows together in intense concentration.

Snape shot a furious glare at Harry, and stood up immediately. He stormed to his desk and reached for a tiny vial of liquid Harry recognized as sleep potion. "You passed out a little while ago," he explained to Malfoy, and handed him the vial. "I'm sure you're quite disoriented at the moment. This should help."

Malfoy hesitated, searching Snape for signs of trustworthiness. He looked over at Harry, whom he clearly judged to be more reliable. "Draco?"

Harry nodded slowly, his jaw still open, and Malfoy's expression softened. He sipped the potion timidly, keeping his gaze on Harry. Slowly, his eyes began to close, and he finally drifted off. The few moments of silence as Malfoy slumbered peacefully were eventually interrupted by Snape's angry voice.

"A MEMORY CHARM?" he shouted, his booming voice reminding Harry of the man he'd so aptly been referring to as 'Old Snape'. He felt his heart sink again, and let his head drop limply, gazing intently at his shoes.

"I-"

"You foolish boy!"

"I just thought, sir, that if I erased what he knew about me, that-"

"Don't you THINK I would have had the intelligence to consider that? And don't you THINK, had it been a REASONABLE solution, I would have performed the charm myself?"

"I... I didn't think of that, sir, I-"

"Does it appear you've managed to simply erase that single memory of Draco's? You have already seen the consequences of improper casting with this particular charm, Harry! You know how dangerous it can be if not used properly! Need I escort you to St. Mungo's for a nice little visit with Gilderoy?"

Harry bit his lip. "That was with Ron's broken wand! I thought, with mine, you know-"

"Don't lie to me! You didn't think! You let him set you off again, and you threw around dangerous spells without one shred of consideration!"

"Sir, I'm-"

"You have got to start using your head when you're distraught, Harry!" continued Snape, his voice so loud that Harry had to catch a glimpse of Malfoy to make sure he was still asleep. "Please, let's review your record! What happened when you shouted at Weasley during Potions? What happened when you punched Draco after Quidditch?"

Harry didn't attempt to answer this time. He sat down in his usual chair, in the usual spot across from Snape's desk, listening to the usual lecture about his usual carelessness.

Snape waited for Harry's eye contact before continuing. This time, however, he spoke slowly, his voice quiet and low. "And what happened when you were alone and upset with Sirius's mirror? What happens when I leave you alone after this?"

Harry felt his throat tighten with the concern in Snape's voice. "I wouldn't... I'm not, sir, I promise..."

Snape sighed and returned to his seat behind the desk. He hid his face in his palms, letting out a very frustrated sigh. "I should hope that you won't torment me with more of your carelessness again tonight, Harry. But I don't think you fully understand the consequences that could come of this." He motioned at the slumbering Malfoy. "Do you fully comprehend the seriousness of this matter?"

"Don't you have a potion that could just bring him back, sir?" asked Harry, his worry returning. He had been so used to relying on Snape. Snape, who had all the answers. Snape, who could fix anything.

"Harry, the entire wizarding world lacks a potion that could just bring him back! Why else would our friend Professor Lockhart permanently reside in the Janus Thickey ward?"