His anger had completely taken him over. His heart pounded in time with his footsteps on the dungeon corridor. Snape's office was just ahead.
He almost didn't stop in time when he heard the voices. Another step and he would have betrayed his presence.
He ducked into the dark doorway of a classroom, pressing to the wall, waiting, listening, willing his heart to be still so he could hear.
"He belongs to me. I'm the one he should want. I'm the one who sacrificed. I'm the one who suffered."
Such a cold, cruel voice. It made Harry shiver, dousing the flames of his anger. He leaned forward, craning around the doorframe, trying to catch a glimpse of the voice's owner.
"You are nothing to him! By your own choice, just remember that. He despises you! He has every reason to."
Lower now, and colder.
"It's too late. You've had your chance."
A long silence followed. Harry hardly dared to breathe, waiting to hear more.
"Don't get in my way, or it will be the last thing you ever do."
Harry stifled a gasp.
"Let this be perfectly clear. I will not let you have him. No matter what I have to do to prevent it."
The voice was so cutting, so cold. . .
"If he comes to you, you will tell him what he needs to hear. Hurt him. Like you always have. Leave him with no doubts."
Harry slid down the wall to the floor.
"Do you understand?!"
A deadly silence, save for the pounding inside Harry's head.
Then. . .
"Perfectly," answered another voice, one that Harry recognized without effort.
A door slammed, making him jump. He pressed into the wall, trying to melt into it, to disappear. He was hidden by the shadows. From where he crouched, he could not avoid looking directly into the corridor outside.
Heavy, angry footsteps. Closer. Closer.
He held his breath.
And tasted blood as he bit his lip to stifle a cry when Sirius stomped past him toward the staircase.
He sat, stunned, the back of his head pressing painfully into the uneven stone wall behind him. He could have sat there all night, frozen on the dungeon floor.
"Harry," a voice so soft he thought he was hearing things.
He raised his head, looking through blurring eyes around the dark room.
Like a ghost materializing out of thin air, the shape of Remus Lupin emerged out of the shadows.
He stood there, looking down at Harry on the floor, not speaking, not moving. Finally he held out a hand.
Harry let Lupin pull him off the floor, and they stood, still and silent, together in the darkness.
Minutes -- or maybe hours -- passed before Harry's senses returned to him.
His face was wet. His eyes burned as the tears flowed freely. He reached up to wipe them away, but Lupin was quicker. He dried Harry's face with the sleeve of his robes.
Harry would have collapsed against him, but Lupin held him at arms' length, not letting him find the comfort he needed. Turned him around. Pushed him through the doorway. Held him up as he stumbled down the hall, until they stood in front of the closed door. Held him tighter when Harry struggled, realizing what Lupin was about to do. Shoved the door open, and forced him to step inside.
Snape's office was dark, lit by a single torch. Harry's eyes took a long time adjusting after the brightness of the corridor outside. He heard Snape before he saw him.
"Explain yourself!" Snape growled out of the darkness, his voice containing every ounce of anger and hostility that he was capable of.
Lupin gave Harry another shove forward.
"He heard," he said simply.
"What. . .?!"
Harry could see Snape now, and Snape's eyes blazed in a way he had never seen before.
"He heard everything," Lupin repeated, and with a final push he turned and left Harry standing in the middle of Snape's office. The door closed behind him, softly, but with a thump that echoed in Harry's chest.
Snape was looking at him with those eyes. . . Harry shuddered under the look. It wasn't a glare. It wasn't hatred, or loathing, or malice, but it pierced him and held him bound, rooted to the spot.
"Mr. Potter. . ." Snape breathed out heavily and drew a long breath before continuing. "You seem to have an aptitude for eavesdropping. A terrible habit. Or haven't you figured that out yet?"
"I wasn't eavesdropping," Harry began. He just wanted to get this over with, and get out. The look that was on Snape's face was truly frightening. "I was coming to. . ." he stopped, suddenly recalling why he had come down to the dungeons in the first place.
Snape must have read his mind, with those eyes that seemed to see right through him.
"Yes. . . I can imagine," he smiled coldly. "But Black beat you to it."
Harry stared at him. Snape was right, of course. Sirius had said some of the very things that Harry himself would have said. Things that had sounded so right when it was he who wanted to say them, and had been so wrong when he heard them said out loud just minutes ago.
Snape saw his confusion. He laughed, a harsh, low laugh.
"Black seems to be under the impression that you need some help making your decision," he continued. "Would you like me to give you all the reasons you need to go running to him?"
Harry cringed under the coldness of Snape's voice. He was about to hear all the things he had suspected and feared, all the things that had kept him awake night after night. Once he heard them, who else could he run to but Sirius?
Sirius, whose voice could be every bit as cold as Snape's. Who thought Harry belonged to him, a prize for his years of suffering. Who wouldn't give Harry a chance to make his own choice.
Snape hadn't given him a choice either, before. But Harry thought he heard a choice offered in his question.
"No," he managed to say, though his mouth had gone dry and his throat threatened to close over the words.
Snape stared at him, waiting.
"I want you to give me just one reason not to."