TEoMF 29

Rated... T? M? Rated something along those lines for language... mild language. ...whatever.

A/N: I'm avoiding randomly inserting comments along the lines of 'ZOMG NOES! Sarumon's trying to bring down teh mountainz! Don't diez little hobbitz!' Mm. Can we tell I'm watching tLotR? Sad thing is, I don't actually like it. It really, really is a DnD comedy. So, let's just remember this is being written under the influence of teh ROFLMAO.

Um...the elves are bugging me. ...just though you ought to know.
Crazy female elf is SO COOL! Like, dude, you're kinda scary, and where's the bed? 'cause you'd make a ridic dominatrix!

Fight the orcs! Fight the orcs! Fight the mob of orcs, all alone. Oh, wait, no, there's your friends! Fight the giant mob of orcs with just you and your friends! OH, hide behind a tree as Orcs pass right by you. Oh, oh, then call the orcs! Call them! Oh, and all of this is after the bipolar human goes aggressive...though he'll save some of ya' later. ...Right, stand there and watch as the crazy, zerking soldier gets shot a couple times and keeps fighting.

...aaand comes the MPD Golem. Joy. Yes, by the way, I've decided to watch all three movies...in one night. And write this chapter whilst I'm at it. Feel much love for imadoodlenoodle when she gets this and fixes my caffeinated arse-ups. I's having coffee at midnight! *giant grin*

...aaand I just figured out why the second movie is called the Two Towers.

Want. Dragon-thing!

Oh damn, this is -such- a comedy! Honestly, it's bloody hilarious. ...I -like- Gandalf the White. He's, like, powerful. 'Begone, evil possessor'. I mean, honestly, I'm starting to wonder if JKR decided 'hey, why don't I put Jesus into LoTR, make it on Here-Earth, and make everyone wizards!'. Yeah.

"Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time."

B/N: I don't know what has happened to Mihra, I think she's had some sort of breakdown. Hence the ramblings above. Because of that, can you leave nice reviews? Even if it's just some words of comfort. (If anyone has any training with what to do in these situations, please PM or email me. I have a feeling I need all the help I can get.)

Muse/N: Dog-sitting, The Lord of the Rings, and midterms happened to Mihra. That, and she and her muses find hilarity in the oddest situations. On the other hand, aren't you glad there aren't random LotR comments scattered about the story itself? Still, Mihra's out of her mind, please leave a review after the beep.

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All the lights were out in the dorm room, nothing but silence from Gregory's bed. It had to be at least two in the morning, though that was less certain than the fact that it was dark. Uriel was curled in his basket, sound asleep. Hedwig sat on her perch, feathers fluffed, looking quite comfortable.

Harry, paced.

Harry paced some more.

Harry paced until his legs started to hurt.

Harry wanted to strangle Severus. He wanted to hit the man until he stopped moving. He wanted to force-feed him poison of his own creation. He really, really wanted a hug, wanted Severus to hold him and tell him it was okay, that he wasn't bad, wasn't a freak, wasn't his father. He wanted to know the man didn't hate him, knew the man didn't hate him, knew it took time and active work to heal, knew because he was trying to heal, knew he really, really wanted to hurt him, hug him, hurt him.

Basically, Harry was confused, tired, grumpy, and he'd snapped at Gregory so badly that the boy'd pulled his curtains and probably put up some form of silencing barrier.

Harry kicked his bed.

...It hurt.

So he threw himself on the bed and started punching it.

...It didn't help.

Finally he gave up, flinging himself off the bed and towards his desk, one hand grabbing his wand to light the torches around the room as he threw himself into the chair. He knew they wouldn't disturb Gregory, as they'd long since discovered the light-blocking powers of their bed hangings. No, he wouldn't disturb him at all.

Quill, ink, parchment, all easily acquired, though the parchment tore slightly and the quill lost a few barbs to rough handling.

'Luc-' the quill tore through the parchment, tip breaking off as it tried to gouge a hole in the desk. Harry made a strangled noise deep in his throat and shoved away from the desk, tipping the chair so that it hit the floor with a bang, and really not caring. He needed to get out, to go somewhere.

Despite the fact that it was already getting cold at night, Harry didn't bother grabbing a cloak as he stormed out of Slytherin, knowing the common room didn't count as away, not with as worked up as he was.

The walls of the castle blurred as Harry walked, not noticing where his feet carried him. He was angry, furious, scared, worried, and so many other things, but mostly he was angry. He didn't even know why he was this angry, just that he was, and that it wasn't going away.

"I trusted you," Harry whispered, coming to a stop somewhere in the dungeons, a solid wall in front of him. "I trusted you!" His right fist slammed into the wall, and something made a rather disturbing crunching sound. He didn't care. "I trusted you!" Again, and with more crunching. "I trusted you!" The last was a scream, echoing around him like the taunts of a child.

"Trusted you, I trusted you, I trusted you, trusted you, trusted you, trusted..." Harry stared at the wall, his hand starting to ache. He didn't care. He was a bit beyond caring, not knowing what was going on, not understanding why he was feeling so much.

"I trusted you," he whispered once more, turning his back to the wall and sliding down it, cradling his broken hand to his chest. He didn't care that he was smearing his own blood down the wall, nor that his hand might be beyond repair. No, all he cared about was that his outside showed at least a little of the hurt and anger he felt inside. That was all that mattered. That, and the strange liquid that fell from his eyes, tasting of saline and turmoil. He wouldn't name it, not now, not when the one who was causing it was the one who'd told him it was okay.

"And did you trust me falsely?"

Harry's head snapped up, his eyes locking on the dark figure that stood, no, sat, with his back against the far wall. Harry just stared at him, the shock of his presence shaking Harry from his numbness, finally feeling his hand that was throbbing unpleasantly.

"Was your trust misplaced?"

Harry stared, rage and exhaustion warring, the emotional din keeping the words from penetrating his awareness.

"Did I betray you in word or deed, or was it only in not healing my own wounds before I had ensured your safety, both mental and physical?" The sarcasm didn't help Harry's comprehension.

When Harry didn't respond Severus sighed and rose. "Come on, let's get that hand tended to." He reached for Harry, but Harry shifted away, tucking his injured hand to his chest even as the pain of moving it made his vision tunnel.

"No, don't touch me." Harry hissed, trying to not black out. He expected Severus, no, Professor Snape, to reach for him anyways, but the Professor backed off, taking a step back and crouching to be closer to Harry's level.

"Harry, you can walk or I can carry you, but you're going to the Hospital Wing, now." Professor Snape said, his body saying quite clearly that he was going to wait for Harry to chose which, though his patience was not unending.

Harry stared at Professor Snape, thinking. He really, really hated the man at the moment, and had a year of trusting him as a confidante and almost-parental-figure. He wanted to mistrust the Professor, and he wanted to trust him, the first adult he'd trusted since his first year of school.

"I'll walk." He grumbled after a few minutes.

"I will catch you if you fall." Professor Snape said, rising again and extending a hand.

Harry tried to push himself to his feet using his left hand, and his right gave a giant throb, causing his vision to black out completely though he didn't fall. He did have to lean heavily against the wall, and he felt Professor Snape swoop over as though to catch him, but the man didn't actually make contact.

"Whatever." Harry said when his vision cleared.

"Whenever you are ready." Professor Snape backed up, although not so far that he would be unable to catch Harry if he were to stumble or some such.

"Let's just go." Harry pushed away from the wall, moving more slowly than he would have liked to as his blood moved strangely through his veins, product of the mashed hand he was quite thoroughly regretting.

They paced the halls, a silence that was both awkward and comfortable. Harry was fine until they hit their first set of stairs, at which point Professor Snape had to catch him as he swayed, vision tunneling again. He would have expected the man to pick him up then and there, but he didn't, instead simply holding Harry until the world stopped swaying around him.

"Thank you, sir." Harry snark-mumbled finally, not wanting to be rude, but not happy that the cause of his...emotional outburst...was anywhere around him.

"At your leisure." Professor Snape's sarcasm was plain, and at the same time he was respecting Harry's physical space as much as possible. It was confusing Harry more than he would ever admit.

Up the stairs, pausing whenever he got dizzy, Harry kept his mouth shut and his mind as blank as possible. Not that it was hard; each moment was wholly focused on taking the next step without falling.

"How did you find me, anyways?" Harry asked on the third landing, or, the landing he thought was the third at least, as he waited for his heart to calm a little, leaning against the wall as it was the least likely to move suddenly.

"There are wards on the common room that alert me when any of my Slytherins leave after curfew. They also tag whoever does, and I can follow the trace to the errant student." Professor Snape drawled. "I don't always do so, but the hour is much later than the usual wanderings, and I felt it would be prudent to investigate."

Harry could just hear the arched eyebrow and superior smirk. "Bloody nanny," he mumbled, pushing off the wall and waiting for Professor Snape to start walking again.

Finally, after more stairs than Harry remembered there being in the entire castle, much less between Slytherin and the Hospital Wing, they made it to the domain of the school's medic.

"What in the name of Merlin could be wrong at this time of night?" Madame Pomfrey asked, stepping into the Wing even as she threw a robe over a rather luridly floral pink nightgown.

"We had a little argument with a wall." Professor Snape said, smirk quite evident in his voice.

"Fuck you." Harry snapped, moving to sit on the nearest bed.

"Mr Potter!" Madame Pomfrey sounded shocked and appalled.

Harry just sneered.

"Mr Potter, if you do not correct your attitude towards Madame Pomfrey I will take points." Professor Snape challenged.

"But not you?" Harry snapped.

"No, Mr Potter, not me. What is to be spoken of between you and I is not for points and detention." Professor Snape walked to the wall and leaned against it as Madame Pomfrey started her scans.

"An argument with a wall?" she asked after a minute, looking between Harry and Professor Snape with disbelief.

"Don't ask me, I happened upon the aftermath." Professor Snape shrugged with his voice alone.

Harry cringed a little, knowing that when the man acted as teenage as he was it was because he was particularly irked.

"Right, well the bones are in too many fragments for me to set them all. I'm going to have to vanish them and give you Skele-Grow." She tutted, moving to the potions cabinet and grabbing a goblet and a vial.

"Um..." Harry watched her, wondering whether he'd have a choice even if he wanted to keep his original bones.

"Right." A wave of the matron's wand and the pain in Harry's hand disappeared along with his bones. "Drink this." She handed him the goblet, having splashed some of whatever was in the vial into it.

"It'll taste horrid." Professor Snape added helpfully from the sidelines.

Harry glared at the Professor, gulped the potion while trying not to taste it, and promptly gagged, he managed to avoided actually heaving.

"Water." Madame Pomfrey handed him another goblet, and Harry gulped the cool liquid, grateful that it stripped the flavor of the potion from his tongue.

"Now, please leave us Madame." Professor Snape stepped forwards. "I promise I will not tax him too much." He added as the matron opened her mouth to argue.

"Oh, very well." She glared at the pair of them before bustling back to the quarters behind her office.

"So." Professor Snape pulled up a chair and sank into it.

"Can't you just leave me the fuck alone?" Harry asked, slipping his feet beneath the blankets and trying to pull it up one-handed even as he laid back.

"No." A flick of the Professor's wand raised the top half of the bed, propping Harry up against his will. "We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk to you!" Harry snapped.

"I don't care." Professor Snape replied, voice unnervingly calm. "We need to talk, and now we are going to."

"You can talk at me, but you can't make me talk." Harry snapped, crossing his arms. The gesture was made a bit awkward by having to resettle his hand when it flopped.

"Indeed." The calm acceptance, as much as Professor Snape every accepted something from a student, made Harry wonder what the man had up his sleeve. "I would like you to listen to what I have to say with an open mind."

"Whatever." Harry tightened his arms and glared. Or, at least, he hoped he was glaring. His hand was still being a bit of a problem, and he had to uncross his arms because he kept crushing the tingling, mostly boneless sack of flesh.

"Harry, you know that it takes much time, and much help to overcome trauma. Am I correct?" Professor Snape asked, folding his hands and crossing his legs at the knee so that he could lock his hands around his top knee.

"Yeah, sure." Harry grumbled, not caring why the Professor was asking.

"Can you tell me what might have happened had I attempted to overcome my own trauma before helping you with yours?"

"I dunno." Harry shrugged.

"Guess."

"You'd have kept being a bastard or something."

"And?"

"I'd have been mad at you."

"And?"

"I'd have been acting like what you expected?"

"And?"

"You'd have stopped caring about fixing your trauma because you wouldn't have thought helping me worth it if I acted like a brat?"

"And by helping you first?"

"I don't know? You got to get me to trust you so that you could break me just like every other adult?" Harry turned his head away, ignoring the salt water that slipped from his eyes.

"Wrong." The word was calm, yet surprisingly strong. "By helping you first I kept that cycle from beginning. As an adult, your teacher, and your Head of House, it is my responsibility to ensure your safety and health over my own in times of crisis. It is my responsibility to take care of you. Part of doing that is making sure I also see to my own trauma once I know you are safe, relatively speaking."

"So, what?" Harry asked. "You just have to sit around seeing a dead man in me and pretending to care until you can actually care."

"No, I care, and in doing so I chose to heal my own hurts, so that they do not come between us." Professor Snape leaned forwards.

"Fuck, just go away." Harry snapped, not at all interested in the conversation continuing.

"And why should I when you don't seem to be getting my point?" Professor Snape asked calmly, the very calm further enraging Harry.

"I'll think about what you said, okay, just shut up and leave me alone!" Harry raged, slamming his head back against the stubbornly propped up bed. "I want to sleep." He didn't bother mentioning that his hand would probably keep him awake.

"Very well." Professor Snape flicked his wand and the bed lowered itself back into a resting position. "I will leave you to regrow your bones." With that he rose and stalked away, leaving Harry to stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep because of the tingling pain in his hand, and unable to distract himself from thinking about anything but Professor Snape's words. They made sense, more than he wanted them to. They made sense, and he just wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He was too tired to be angry, and he wanted Professor Snape's approval too much. It was not a good place to be.

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BEEP

B/N: During the editing/writing of this chapter, Mihra and I discovered something amazing and she has now also driven me around the bend.

A/N: Really? I know the discovered part, but around the bend? Really? Really-really? I'm so proud of myself!

B/N: The whole 'Dark Lord girlfriend thing' ? Yes, that definitely got me there. You owe me big cyber brownies. My other authors aren't half as, ...you-like, as you are.

A/N: For those of you looking at this going 'wtf?', part of our latest email exchange included:

At some point, somewhere, I need to do a Harry/Voldemort in which Harry becomes Voldie's second and has his own circle. Then, while trying to get a covert message across to Draco in the middle of the Great Hall Harry (who will be a Gryff) will say something along the lines of:

"It's about that present for my girlfriend, I need you guys to check over the spellwork."

Granted, I've no clue how I want Draco to -respond- to Harry calling the Dark Lord his 'girlfriend', even if it -is- just 'code'.

...

So, did I break your brain more?

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Will puppy eyes save me from your wrath?

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Brownies? Nice, home-cooked brownies?

...

...

So, reviews?