Harry began to regret giving Ron a free reign over his body; while all pain was good pain, he much preferred the sting of a knife or razor to the dull impact of a fist. His mental state took a downturn as well. After the carving of the lightning bolt, something changed. He didn't sleep at all, spending nights tracing the ridges of his scars with long pale fingers, and using concealing charms in the morning to hide the deep shadows underneath his eyes.

When he didn't sleep, he dreamt of hope; of parents, of people who loved it. And his only consolation, when even the snores of the boys around him sounded cold and harsh, was that there must be something left in him alive if he could dare to hope. He just couldn't find the spark of life.

And then it all changed.

***************************************************

"Hey, Potter!"

Harry didn't turn, just kept walking, until two rough hands grabbed his skinny shoulders.

"What do you want, Weasley?"

The rest of the school were having problems adjusting to the strange new relationship between Harry and Ron, and already people were beginning to stare.

"Carry my bag"

"No!" said Harry sharply. "That wasn't in the agreement!"

Hissing fires of whispers broke out throughout the corridor, people talking in hushed voices about what could possibly be the 'agreement'. Harry ignored them, and kept walking towards the Potions room. He felt a huge weight suddenly descend onto his shoulders and winced, dropping Ron's bag to the floor. Then he kept walking. He walked right through the door before Ron caught up with him.

"Potter! What was that for?"

Harry suddenly felt very tired, and slightly dizzy. If he half-closed his eyes it felt like he was floating. Then he was brought back to earth by a fist in his face which made him stagger back, eyes watering. And then, from somewhere, he gained some reserve of strength which enabled him to slap Ron hard around the face. He knew it was fruitless; Ron was bigger and stronger, and had him pinned down. He felt another blow to his face, and then a welcome tone.

"Mister Weasley, fighting in the potions room?"

Ron's red face turned the colour of old porridge, the only pink left the mark on his cheek from Harry's hand.

"Unfortunately, the happy task of setting Gryffindor into negative points doesn't lie with me, as you have not damaged anything. However you will both report to professor McGonagall immediately after the lesson."

Harry nodded, and turned to go back to his seat, missing the look of concern that flashed over Snape's face.

**********************************

Snape couldn't concentrate on his lesson; his mind was whirling with the implications of what he had seen. Harry had been hit hard but his face showed no sign of bruising or swelling, therefore he must have concealing charms on. But he had been eating; what would he be hiding?

You know perfectly well what he would be hiding, Severus

Unbidden, images of Harry's arms, dripping with blood, flashed into Snape's mind.

Don't want to see. Too scared

But that was why Harry's health had got to this stage. Because people were too scared to think about the imperfect life of the Perfect Boy.

He was hiding. His hair had grown and hung over his eyes, slightly lank and greasy. Now he stood quietly behind his bench, making the potion well to avoid rebuke from the teacher, but not perfectly so he didn't attract too much attention. He was inconspicuous with the grace of one who has been practising it for years.

Snape suddenly became aware that he was staring at Harry, and mentally kicked himself. Harry had also noticed, because he flushed, and gazed firmly into his cauldron. And then he paled, and drew back, his mouth open in a silent gasp. Snape swept forwards and looked in over Harry's shoulder. The potion, which had previously been blue, was now like a mirror, smooth and shiny. In the mirror, leering at Harry, was a boy with dark hair, green eyes and a lightning-bolt scar. That was the only resemblance to Harry though; the mirror-Harry was grossly fat, with clammy pink skin.

Snape didn't have time to reflect on this, as Harry gasped and stumbled backwards. Snape looked down at him, and hoped Harry could see the concerned look in his eyes, hidden to the rest of the class by his curtain of black hair.

"Get up, Potter" he ordered curtly, and moved to the front of the class. It was nearly the end of the lesson now. Harry was visibly shaking.

"Everyone bottle your pathetically inadequate potions, and then you may leave. Homework is a 3 foot scroll on why precautions must be taken in the making of the Repasso* potion."

Amid the groans and grumbles he watched Harry, who was packing his bags away silently. He was still trembling.

"Potter, stay behind."

Harry didn't look surprised; his face was expressionless. Though Snape had a strong feeling the boy was biting his lip to prevent himself from crying. Suddenly he felt a feeling of pity stir in him. The rest of the class disappeared quickly, and he beckoned Harry forwards to his desk.

"How are you feeling?"

Shit! Where did that come from?

"Fine, thank you sir."

His voice was totally devoid of emotion, and his eyes were dull. Again, Snape felt like Harry had just drawn a curtain around himself.

"Why did Weasley attack you?"

"We were just playing, sir."

Snape shook his head, partially at the pathetic lie and partly at the monotone in which it was delivered.

"Harry, I'm worried about you"

Yeah, and I'm only opening my mouth to embarrass myself even further muttered his conscience. Snape ignored it.

"I'm not convinced you are better at all. Hiding is not going to help you in the long term, because you may get so well hidden that you are lost forever."

"And what if that's what I want?"

Harry's eyes had flashed briefly, a small spark of light, but he quickly flushed at his admittance. Then, seeming to accept defeat, his shoulders slumped.

"Why didn't you come and talk to me, Harry? I would have helped you - or tried."

"I. . .I didn't want to be a nuisance. . ."

Snape shook his head and gently guided Harry into a chair. He decided his conscience must have taken him over for him to be being so nice. Some Slytherins, normally first year girls, saw this side of him.

"You are wearing concealing charms" he asked rhetorically. Harry loked slightly surprised.

"Did they slip?"

"No, I'm Head of Slytherin. I'm used to looking past the first few layers."

Harry smiled wryly.

"I hope you're not going to ask me to remove them, professor."

"I'm afraid I am. I need to see."

Harry shook his head, face hardening.

"I don't want that."

"I know you don't, Harry. But I have to know."

"If it's bad you'll just send me back to the hospital."

It was a question and a statement, delivered with almost concealed nervousness.

"Only if it's bad. If you trust me, I will not betray that. I will not tell Dumbledore."

Even as the words left his mouth, Snape knew how much trouble he could get into. From the surprised look on Harry's face, so did he. Apprehensive, the boy waved the wand at himself, and the features merged into a much finer face. However he was not as desperately skeletal as he had been before.

"You lost weight" said Snape, trying to keep the accusing tone out of his voice.

"I know" whispered Harry. He felt very vulnerable without the glamour charm.

"You haven't been sleeping, either, have you?"

Harry shook his head, which was still facing down.

"Would you like something to eat or drink?"

Another shake of the head. Snape summoned a glass of water anyway, and pressed it into Harry's hand.

"Look, Harry. I saw in the potion. You are not fat. I don't know how I can persuade you, but tell me. . .what do you see when you look in the mirror?"

Harry was silent for a moment, and Snape wondered if he was going to respond. Then he murmered in a slightly choked voice,

"I see that boy. . .except a bit skinnier. Not much. I was so scared. . .I look like him, don't I?"

Snape shook his head.

"Not at all. The scar and the eyes are the only resemblance. You look like him, only minus about 5 stone."

Harry took a deep shuddering breath and with a jolt Snape realised that he was crying, trying to act as though he wasn't.

"You are so thin, Harry. You look like you're going to break. Don't break."

Harry gave an unmistakable sob.

"I'm. . .I'm so confused, be-because I believe you, b-but I see him everyday in the mirror, and I don't know w-what they all s-see. . ."

Harry's breathing became more and more erratic, his stuttering more pronounced, until finally he simply whimpered quietly and rested his head in his hands, frail body heaving with sobs that seemed so much too big for him. So much pain in such a small vessel, reflected Snape. It really wasn't surprising he was breaking.

"Harry. . ."

Harry didn't reply, just cried as though his heart was breaking, his arms wrapped around his knees as though he could physically hold the grief in.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I. . ."

Harry was trying to hold his sobs in now, and Snape worried that the boy was going to suffocate himself. He felt totally useless. Wondering if Harry would flinch away, he put a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed gently. To his total amazement, Harry actually leaned into the touch, and he moved in front of the chair.

"It's ok, Harry. You're going to be alright. . ."

Harry latched onto the front of his robes, and Snape was rendered totally speechless. From sheer habit he almost deducted 500 points from Gryffindor. Then he regained his senses and pulled Harry gently forward so his head was resting on Snape's chest, and then wrapped his arms around the boy's thin back.

"It's ok now Harry. It's going to be alright." He murmered.

Maybe it would turn out to be true.

*Repasso means something like 'I suffer again', eg it is the worst fear of the person who looks in the potion, a bit like a Boggart.