"What happened?" Demanded Snape as soon as they got into St Mungos.
"After you had left, he lay still for several minutes and ignored everyone. Then a nurse tried to take off his shirt to change his needle and he went berserk! He ripped out the needle which caused extensive bleeding, and a combination of shock and blood loss made his heart start fibrillating."
Dumbledore looked confused, and then caught sight of Snape's guilty face and fixed him with a look that said there would be serious talking later. Snape squirmed.
"Can we see him?"
"No, I'm afraid not. He's in a very serious condition, and the medi-witches are still working on him."
Albus nodded.
"In that case, Severus and I will go and have a little talk. Please inform us should there be any change in Harry's condition."
The nurse nodded and then disappeared, and Dumbledore took Snape's arm in a not-too-gentle grasp and pulled him towards the fireplace.
When they had arrived in Dumbledore's office, he showed Snape into a seat and didn't even offer him a cup of tea, biscuit or sweet.
"What is it that you are not telling me, Severus?"
Snape shook his head.
"It is a matter solely between Mr Potter and myself. I am sorry that I have nothing to tell you."
Dumbledore's eyes hardened, but Snape just looked away. Finally he sighed.
"Albus, if I could tell you then I would, but I simply don't know enough about it. And I think that if I told anyone and Harry found out, he would never trust again."
Dumbledore nodded, and took his glasses off to rub his eyes.
"I really have no idea what to do, Severus. I feel like in some way it is my fault."
"No, it isn't, Albus. And if you think trying to make me feel guilty enough to tell you his secrets will work, then may I remind you that I used to be a Death Eater, and therefore have no feelings remotely resembling guilt?"
"Ah, but you feel guilty about Harry. I can see it in your expression."
Snape's face hardened and his eyes grew flat and emotionless. Albus knew he had overstepped a fine line.
"Do not presume to know anything about me or my feelings" - delivered in an icy tone - and with a swirl of robes, he disappeared, probably down to the dungeons.
*******************************************
Harry opened his eyes cautiously. He was in a hospital. It seemed familiar. . .
He remembered.
He almost regretted Snape leaving. The man had hurt him badly by putting him into the hospital when Harry had trusted him, but he had obviously cared enough to stay. And now he probably hated Harry for all the things he'd said.
He had turned over, wondering vaguely about trying to sleep, when a nurse had approached and begun to take off his shirt. He realised that the tube had been going directly into his stomach, and that he hadn't had his clothes removed. Panicked at the thought of anyone else seeing his body, which looked like a canvas liberally splashed with red and black paints - Snape knew, and that was bad enough - he had fought desperately, hardly feeling the needle rip itself out of his skin. However when he saw the fresh blood soaking his sheets he felt sick, and his chest constricted. There was suddenly a burning pain shooting down his arm and through his chest; in the background alarms flashed noisily.
And then he succumbed to the darkness.
He must have slept for a while. When he woke up, he felt drained, but the pain had gone and the alarms had stopped. It couldn't have been Voldemort, because his scar didn't hurt. Oh, and Voldemort was dead. Precious few Death Eaters were left; nothing like enough to launch any sort of attack. The he remembered. Shamed, he put his head in his hands, and the movement obviously alerted someone because he heard footsteps approaching.
Oh god, Snape. What must the man think of him? Harry had been so horrible, so rude, and now Snape would hate him and everybody would hate him and he would be all alone. . .
Ignoring the persistent voices, Harry turned away - as far as he could, without pulling the needle out again - and kept his face covered.
"Go away. I don't want you here."
"But. . ."
"GO AWAY!"
There was a resigned sigh.
"Mr Potter, I just need to take some readings on your blood pressure to check everything is alright. When it is, if you can agree to begin eating again, you will be discharged and sent back to Hogwarts where the teachers will be taking care of you. Professor Dumbledore says that due to unforeseen circumstances you will be staying at Hogwarts over the summer as well; apparently your Muggle relatives have taken a long holiday."
He wasn't listening after he heard the key words.
"Discharged. . .eating. ."
Resignedly he accepted the bowl of soup offered, much to the nurse's surprise. He forced a few mouthfuls down. He could lose it later. Why couldn't they understand that he just wanted to lose enough weight to still comparisons between himself and Dudley?
Before he knew it the bowl was finished and the nurse took it away with a pleased look.
"Well done, Mr Potter. You have a visitor, if you wish to see him."
"No thank you" replied Harry as politely as he could. "I'm a bit tired right now. Thank you for the soup."
The nurse smiled at him.
"My pleasure, Mr Potter. Will you be wanting to see professor Snape later? I'm sure we could waive the visiting rules. . ."
"No thanks" replied Harry, a bit more sharply this time. He turned away and fell asleep again.
**************************************
Sleep was never kind to him. Tonight was no exception. He awoke shortly after he had fallen asleep, shaking and sweating after another horrendous nightmare. It was everything he was afraid of; pale, swollen skin, oily like blubber. And his scar stood out livid on his forehead. Cedric and thousands of other people he had seen die tormented him and cursed him. It was the same as every night.
Snape, feeling unwelcome at the hospital, also lay awake. He wasn't worried about the stupid boy. He wasn't! Of course not. There was a perfectly good reason why he couldn't sleep. And why visions of the scarred arms flashed before his eyes. And why his fingers could feel those ribs jutting out. . .NO! He did NOT care.
*********************************************
Harry soon became quite popular at the hospital. He thanked his Slytherin traits for allowing him the foresight to make up some good lies about why he had starved.
"Well, it's a bit embarrassing *blush* but I was having some arguments with my friends and I wanted people to notice me. It was just a childish thing, I think *hang head* and I know it was very stupid. But I felt so awful, and I feel so much better now *grateful smile* that I definitely won't try it again."
It worked like a charm. The staff 'ooh-ed' and 'aah-ed' and generally left him alone after that. When he had put on a full 2 stone (2 stone! He felt awful!) he was released, and returned to Hogwarts. As soon as he got back, Dumbledore called him into his office.
"How do you feel, Harry?"
"Fine, thank you sir. My heart's still a bit fragile, so I'm not allowed to do Quidditch or rush around."
He produced a note which Dumbledore read. He then smiled at Harry.
"Yes, I see no problem in that. Perhaps you could help to coach the Gryffindor team?"
It was a kind thought, but Harry's heart wasn't in the idea. It would hurt bitterly to watch the team train without him, knowing that the freedom they had was denied to him. Anger surged over him, and with elation he realised that he was free to cut himself again. His skin was crawling with the sensation o healing skin, and he didn't like it. Dumbledore jerked him out of his thoughts.
"Also, I will inform the teachers that you are to be excused if you arrive late to any classes. You must take care, Harry. We were so very worried about you. . ."
Harry nodded and smiled apologetically. He was really getting rather good at fooling people.
"Ah well, it's nearly lunchtime now, so why don't you accompany me to the Dining Room?"
It was an order rather than a request, and Harry realised it was a precaution to prevent him from not eating. Too tired to argue, he followed Dumbledore downstairs and sat with the other Gryffindors, aware of the awkward silences and the many pairs of eyes fixed on him from the Staff Table.
One potato couldn't hurt, could it? No butter. And a little meat, and some healthy vegetables. He could almost feel Dumbledore's approval. Ron was staring at him, probably wondering where he'd been for so long. Suddenly Harry didn't want to go back to the Common Room, didn't want to be interrogated. He hastily finished his dinner, nodded politely to Dumbledore, and left the Hall with some Ravenclaw second-years who looked thoroughly awed in his presence.
All the eyes in the room left him as he exited. All except two. . .two deep black eyes which looked like holes, but were just a safe place to hide secrets.
***************************************
He didn't know where his feet were leading him. He found himself further and further away from the main school, until he finally arrived at Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He automatically moved to a stall and stared into the water, looking at the slight rippling of the ever moving surface. There was too much magic in Hogwarts for anything to stay still, anywhere.
Still automatically, he reached for his wand and transfigured a splinter which still remained from their run in in the first year into a knife. The shining blade ran smoothly across his arm, releasing a thin flow of crimson blood, which soon thickened into a steady flow which dripped off his arm and landed with regular 'plop's on the floor. Stupid, really, for any of them to think he could ever be alright. Stupid for them even to try and understand.
The blood emerged from several cuts now. Not too deep; that was forbidden. Enough to soak his arm and hand, making him look like he had been skinned alive. With a dark smile he raised his wrist to his lips and lapped up the blood. And then, as though he had intended to do it from the start, he plunged several fingers down his throat, feeling his stomach lurch at the pressure of his fingers and at the taste of blood, and vomited violently into the toilet.
It had started; or maybe it had just never stopped.
********************************************
At last! I did it! Wooh! Ahem, sorry. Slightly hyper and depressed simultaneously, so this is a depressing chapter. And guess what? For the next chapter you get another poetic interlude written by me! I'd really appreciate reviews on that especially. Thanks!
"After you had left, he lay still for several minutes and ignored everyone. Then a nurse tried to take off his shirt to change his needle and he went berserk! He ripped out the needle which caused extensive bleeding, and a combination of shock and blood loss made his heart start fibrillating."
Dumbledore looked confused, and then caught sight of Snape's guilty face and fixed him with a look that said there would be serious talking later. Snape squirmed.
"Can we see him?"
"No, I'm afraid not. He's in a very serious condition, and the medi-witches are still working on him."
Albus nodded.
"In that case, Severus and I will go and have a little talk. Please inform us should there be any change in Harry's condition."
The nurse nodded and then disappeared, and Dumbledore took Snape's arm in a not-too-gentle grasp and pulled him towards the fireplace.
When they had arrived in Dumbledore's office, he showed Snape into a seat and didn't even offer him a cup of tea, biscuit or sweet.
"What is it that you are not telling me, Severus?"
Snape shook his head.
"It is a matter solely between Mr Potter and myself. I am sorry that I have nothing to tell you."
Dumbledore's eyes hardened, but Snape just looked away. Finally he sighed.
"Albus, if I could tell you then I would, but I simply don't know enough about it. And I think that if I told anyone and Harry found out, he would never trust again."
Dumbledore nodded, and took his glasses off to rub his eyes.
"I really have no idea what to do, Severus. I feel like in some way it is my fault."
"No, it isn't, Albus. And if you think trying to make me feel guilty enough to tell you his secrets will work, then may I remind you that I used to be a Death Eater, and therefore have no feelings remotely resembling guilt?"
"Ah, but you feel guilty about Harry. I can see it in your expression."
Snape's face hardened and his eyes grew flat and emotionless. Albus knew he had overstepped a fine line.
"Do not presume to know anything about me or my feelings" - delivered in an icy tone - and with a swirl of robes, he disappeared, probably down to the dungeons.
*******************************************
Harry opened his eyes cautiously. He was in a hospital. It seemed familiar. . .
He remembered.
He almost regretted Snape leaving. The man had hurt him badly by putting him into the hospital when Harry had trusted him, but he had obviously cared enough to stay. And now he probably hated Harry for all the things he'd said.
He had turned over, wondering vaguely about trying to sleep, when a nurse had approached and begun to take off his shirt. He realised that the tube had been going directly into his stomach, and that he hadn't had his clothes removed. Panicked at the thought of anyone else seeing his body, which looked like a canvas liberally splashed with red and black paints - Snape knew, and that was bad enough - he had fought desperately, hardly feeling the needle rip itself out of his skin. However when he saw the fresh blood soaking his sheets he felt sick, and his chest constricted. There was suddenly a burning pain shooting down his arm and through his chest; in the background alarms flashed noisily.
And then he succumbed to the darkness.
He must have slept for a while. When he woke up, he felt drained, but the pain had gone and the alarms had stopped. It couldn't have been Voldemort, because his scar didn't hurt. Oh, and Voldemort was dead. Precious few Death Eaters were left; nothing like enough to launch any sort of attack. The he remembered. Shamed, he put his head in his hands, and the movement obviously alerted someone because he heard footsteps approaching.
Oh god, Snape. What must the man think of him? Harry had been so horrible, so rude, and now Snape would hate him and everybody would hate him and he would be all alone. . .
Ignoring the persistent voices, Harry turned away - as far as he could, without pulling the needle out again - and kept his face covered.
"Go away. I don't want you here."
"But. . ."
"GO AWAY!"
There was a resigned sigh.
"Mr Potter, I just need to take some readings on your blood pressure to check everything is alright. When it is, if you can agree to begin eating again, you will be discharged and sent back to Hogwarts where the teachers will be taking care of you. Professor Dumbledore says that due to unforeseen circumstances you will be staying at Hogwarts over the summer as well; apparently your Muggle relatives have taken a long holiday."
He wasn't listening after he heard the key words.
"Discharged. . .eating. ."
Resignedly he accepted the bowl of soup offered, much to the nurse's surprise. He forced a few mouthfuls down. He could lose it later. Why couldn't they understand that he just wanted to lose enough weight to still comparisons between himself and Dudley?
Before he knew it the bowl was finished and the nurse took it away with a pleased look.
"Well done, Mr Potter. You have a visitor, if you wish to see him."
"No thank you" replied Harry as politely as he could. "I'm a bit tired right now. Thank you for the soup."
The nurse smiled at him.
"My pleasure, Mr Potter. Will you be wanting to see professor Snape later? I'm sure we could waive the visiting rules. . ."
"No thanks" replied Harry, a bit more sharply this time. He turned away and fell asleep again.
**************************************
Sleep was never kind to him. Tonight was no exception. He awoke shortly after he had fallen asleep, shaking and sweating after another horrendous nightmare. It was everything he was afraid of; pale, swollen skin, oily like blubber. And his scar stood out livid on his forehead. Cedric and thousands of other people he had seen die tormented him and cursed him. It was the same as every night.
Snape, feeling unwelcome at the hospital, also lay awake. He wasn't worried about the stupid boy. He wasn't! Of course not. There was a perfectly good reason why he couldn't sleep. And why visions of the scarred arms flashed before his eyes. And why his fingers could feel those ribs jutting out. . .NO! He did NOT care.
*********************************************
Harry soon became quite popular at the hospital. He thanked his Slytherin traits for allowing him the foresight to make up some good lies about why he had starved.
"Well, it's a bit embarrassing *blush* but I was having some arguments with my friends and I wanted people to notice me. It was just a childish thing, I think *hang head* and I know it was very stupid. But I felt so awful, and I feel so much better now *grateful smile* that I definitely won't try it again."
It worked like a charm. The staff 'ooh-ed' and 'aah-ed' and generally left him alone after that. When he had put on a full 2 stone (2 stone! He felt awful!) he was released, and returned to Hogwarts. As soon as he got back, Dumbledore called him into his office.
"How do you feel, Harry?"
"Fine, thank you sir. My heart's still a bit fragile, so I'm not allowed to do Quidditch or rush around."
He produced a note which Dumbledore read. He then smiled at Harry.
"Yes, I see no problem in that. Perhaps you could help to coach the Gryffindor team?"
It was a kind thought, but Harry's heart wasn't in the idea. It would hurt bitterly to watch the team train without him, knowing that the freedom they had was denied to him. Anger surged over him, and with elation he realised that he was free to cut himself again. His skin was crawling with the sensation o healing skin, and he didn't like it. Dumbledore jerked him out of his thoughts.
"Also, I will inform the teachers that you are to be excused if you arrive late to any classes. You must take care, Harry. We were so very worried about you. . ."
Harry nodded and smiled apologetically. He was really getting rather good at fooling people.
"Ah well, it's nearly lunchtime now, so why don't you accompany me to the Dining Room?"
It was an order rather than a request, and Harry realised it was a precaution to prevent him from not eating. Too tired to argue, he followed Dumbledore downstairs and sat with the other Gryffindors, aware of the awkward silences and the many pairs of eyes fixed on him from the Staff Table.
One potato couldn't hurt, could it? No butter. And a little meat, and some healthy vegetables. He could almost feel Dumbledore's approval. Ron was staring at him, probably wondering where he'd been for so long. Suddenly Harry didn't want to go back to the Common Room, didn't want to be interrogated. He hastily finished his dinner, nodded politely to Dumbledore, and left the Hall with some Ravenclaw second-years who looked thoroughly awed in his presence.
All the eyes in the room left him as he exited. All except two. . .two deep black eyes which looked like holes, but were just a safe place to hide secrets.
***************************************
He didn't know where his feet were leading him. He found himself further and further away from the main school, until he finally arrived at Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He automatically moved to a stall and stared into the water, looking at the slight rippling of the ever moving surface. There was too much magic in Hogwarts for anything to stay still, anywhere.
Still automatically, he reached for his wand and transfigured a splinter which still remained from their run in in the first year into a knife. The shining blade ran smoothly across his arm, releasing a thin flow of crimson blood, which soon thickened into a steady flow which dripped off his arm and landed with regular 'plop's on the floor. Stupid, really, for any of them to think he could ever be alright. Stupid for them even to try and understand.
The blood emerged from several cuts now. Not too deep; that was forbidden. Enough to soak his arm and hand, making him look like he had been skinned alive. With a dark smile he raised his wrist to his lips and lapped up the blood. And then, as though he had intended to do it from the start, he plunged several fingers down his throat, feeling his stomach lurch at the pressure of his fingers and at the taste of blood, and vomited violently into the toilet.
It had started; or maybe it had just never stopped.
********************************************
At last! I did it! Wooh! Ahem, sorry. Slightly hyper and depressed simultaneously, so this is a depressing chapter. And guess what? For the next chapter you get another poetic interlude written by me! I'd really appreciate reviews on that especially. Thanks!