Moaning Myrtle peered through the tap, her slightly spotty chin stretching into a grin as she saw her favourite wizard. Harry Potter. He was handsome, if a little dazed looking in those huge glasses he constantly wore. Although, his hair was less of a mess. Must be some new potion. Myrtle thought morosely. She wished it had been invented in her time. Maybe then she wouldn't have been constantly teased, and ridiculed, and teased, and laughed at. . .

She was drawn from her thoughts by the look on Harry's face. Entering the bathroom, he had looked normal, but now there was such look of anguish on his face that the world might have turned upside down for him. He suddenly began firing hexes at the mirror; nasty hexes that Myrtle had seen a certain potions professor using. And she had seen Harry going in there a fair few times, at the dead of night. Surely that didn't mean. . .

Suddenly Harry stopped, and looked into the mirror. Myrtle belatedly noticed that his cheek was bleeding. Maybe he had been in a fight? But surely he would have fought back? And then his eyes unfocussed, and he reached out for a razor. Curiously, Myrtle drifted forwards, looking over his shoulder. She almost gasped aloud when he drew the blade across his skin, causing a few droplets of blood to rise to the surface. He scowled at the blade, and then suddenly rolled up his sleeve and slashed the blade downwards, splitting the delicate skin apart and sending blood rushing this time to the surface. And then he smiled; not a sinister, menacing smile, but the smile of someone who's finally had a burden lifted from their shoulders. Wide eyes, Myrtle backed off, and disappeared down the drain.

Who would have thought it?

So, he was depressed. Obviously. Very depressed, and emotional. He had a bad history, that was obvious from the scars on his arms. Deep scars, purpling slightly in the coolness of the bathroom. He had obviously just been in a fight; he had come from the direction of the Dungeons; he had been spending a lot of time with Professor Snape lately.

The puzzle pieces all fitted together. Harry was seeing Snape. They had just broken up. What a scandal! Myrtle was so caught up in the excitement of her new-found knowledge that she ran straight through the Fat Friar. He smiled benevolently as she drew up, gasping slightly from her exertions.

"Hello my dear. How are you today?"

"Ooh, I'm so shocked. You wouldn't believe what I found out today. . ."

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

Nearly Headless Nick was floating benignly through the dormitories, wishing all the Gryffindors well, when the Bloody Baron approached him, looking even more ferocious than usual.

"Sir Nicholas" he rumbled "A word if you please?"

Nick puffed his chest out, furious at a Slytherin entering the Gryffindor rooms, and preceded the Baron out of the room.

"Yes?"

"I have just been speaking to Charlton on the third floor. He has heard a most interesting rumour, Nicholas. About a certain Gryffindor and a certain teacher. Why did you not inform me?"

Nick was confused.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about" he said.

"Harry Potter and Severus Snape" snarled the Baron, his eyes glowing menacingly. "They are. . .involved."

"Rubbish!" exclaimed Nick. "They are no such thing. Friends; no more."

"That wasn't what I heard from Charlton."

"And where did Charlton hear this from?"

The Bloody Baron was momentarily floored.

"An extremely unreliable source, no doubt" huffed Nick, and headed away. He did however catch the Baron's last words.

"Unreliable, maybe. But gossip travels quickly, whether reliable or not."

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

Harry stared into the mirror. He didn't know how much later it was; he couldn't find the energy to move. Snape despised him. All those times he had trusted him, and the man had just been irritated by him. Annoyed. Fed up. How stupid was Harry? For thinking that someone actually cared?

Suddenly a voice jerked him out of his thoughts.

"Harry Potter?"

He frowned. It sounded like. . .

"Nick?"

The ghost floated through the door.

"Harry, I'm awfully sorry to bother you. . .thought you should know. . ."

"What?"

Harry normally got on well with Nearly Headless Nick, but he had limited patience at the moment.

"There has been a rumour that you and Professor Snape became. . .ah . .rather close, shall we say."

Harry looked up, to see Nick turning slightly red, and the colour drained out of his face.

"WHAT?"

"I'm afraid, my dear boy, that all the ghosts and paintings are talking about it."

Harry felt suddenly sick.

"But I'm not. . .I've never. . .we're friends!"

Nick nodded sympathetically.

"I know, Harry. But the rumours will not stop because of that."

Severus. . .his job. . .his future. . .if people believed this, then he would be arrested, possibly sent to Azkaban. How had this happened?

"I never, Nick!" he shouted, more shrilly than he had intended to. Nick nodded gravely.

"I do believe you, Harry, and I will do what I can to help. But. . .there will be trouble. I thought you should know first."

With that he turned and drifted out of the bathroom, leaving Harry alone and vulnerable.

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

Snape felt like shit, to put it frankly. His head throbbed and pounded and he wished that he could get Harry back. It occurred to him that he had been a little harsh; but surely Harry would understand that he was ill?

Deciding, he summoned his owl to him, and scribbled out a weak note.

"Harry,

I require your presence in the Dungeons immediately.

Professor S. Snape."

He sent the owl off just as the Bloody Baron waltzed through the doorway.

"Severus, we have a problem."

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

Harry cautiously poked his head around the door. A hand immediately grabbed him and slammed him against the wall.

"What have you done?" Snarled Snape, spit flying at Harry who had to make a conscious effort not to flinch.

"I. . .I'm sorry."

As it turned out, it was the worst thing Harry could have said.

"Foolish boy! Imbecile! You spread a rumour like this. . .one that could get me thrown into Azkaban. . .on the strength of some petty little argument?"

"I. . .I didn't. . ."

"Stop your foolish stuttering" he snapped, aware that he was hurting harry by pushing him back against the wall. "You apologised. Forget it. Get out, and never come back. And this time I mean it! That you could repay me for all I've done for you in such a way; I credited you with some further sense than your father, but the same stupidity runs in your veins; the same weakness. Get out of my sight, and never, ever presume to expect my care again."

Harry didn't even try to hide his feelings at the words delivered in such an icy unfeeling tone. His eyes welled up with tears.

"I trusted you, Potter, and you have decided to throw that trust away. Cease your snivelling and go away."" Harry shivered suddenly, feeling both the cold of the dungeons and the chill of Snape's words.

"You mean it" he murmered. His only response was to be thrown out of the portrait hole by the scruff of his neck and hear the slam of the door behind him.

Oh Harry he thought to himself, You've really buggered it up this time, haven't you.

And then he rested against the portrait and closed his eyes in the silent pain that can only be understood by those who have had salvation snatched from their hands at their final breath.

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

On the other side of the portrait hole, the Bloody Baron regarded Snape inscrutably.

"You care for the boy" he said, slowly.

"That is not true" aid Snape; possibly there was a snarl trying to accompany the words, but he just sounded old and weary. "I care nothing for anyone."

"You do care for him, Severus. Even if you cannot see it, I do. Why? How is it that a Slytherin should feel so deeply about a Gryffindor? Although, of course, he is not strictly a Gryffindor."

Snape's head rose, and he squinted at the Baron through watering eyes.

"What?"

"He is no true Gryffindor. He has the qualities, yes - bravery, loyalty, stupidity" - the ghost's mouth twisted into a sneer - "But he also has many Slytherin traits. His cunning; his thirst for victory; his manipulation."

Seeing the look of confusion on Snape's face, the spectre continued.

"At the sorting, the Hat wanted him in Slytherin. He fought it; overpowered it. Became a Gryffindor. And maybe things would have been vastly different if he had allowed his fate to be shaped for him."

Snape's head hurt to much for him to want to figure out the cryptic statements of the Baron. He pulled a blanket over his head and waved the ghost towards the door, not even bothering to see if he was gone. The Baron stared for a few seconds, as though considering, and then left.

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

Harry felt a ghost pass through him, but didn't care. The icy sensation was slightly odd, but he was used to it now. The voice surprised him, though.

"Young Gryffindor" said a deep, dull voice. "What are you doing here? This is no place for the shining and courageous folk."

He wasn't really surprised to see Harry wince.

"I am dull. I don't like it up there."

"Hmm" said the Baron, and floated in front of Harry, looking at him carefully.

"It is as I thought. You would have done far better in Slytherin. Your desires clouded your vision, and you chose the safest option. Life is not safe, young snake. Tom Riddle, hmm, he was so much like you. So much pain, so much anger. It all festered away in him, and he turned away from the light. I cannot see that being your fate; no, you will make yourself suffer rather than others."

Harry looked up at the melancholy tone of the ghost in front of him.

"Well, isn't it better for me to suffer?" he asked, slightly defiantly. The Baron, to his surprise, chuckled.

"I thought you would say that, young snake. It is better for some, yes. But you must make sure that you can mete out suffering to those who deserve it, or else you will take the punishments of an unfair world of your skinny little shoulders."

"Why do you call me snake?" asked Harry suddenly, mind flicking over the slightly surreal conversation.

"You are a parselmouth" said the Baron, with a touch of wry humour. "But no, not only that. At heart, you are a snake. Not evil; no, not at all. But you will hide, curl up in the shadows. Tom Riddle, when he hurt, would turn around and savage those closest to him. You would prefer to hide and wait until the last minute before delivering a silent but deadly attack. So in effect, you are like the symbol of Slytherin, while Tom Riddle was the symbol of Gryffindor. Confusing, is it not? You have much of him in you, but the key parts are different. Tom Riddle's fate will not be your, young snake."

"Do I have any fate at all? I thought they had mapped it all out for me" replied Harry, softly yet with a certain amount of bitterness. The Baron looked at him sharply.

"Yes, I know that maybe they have burdened you too much in the past. In the future, perhaps they will leave you be too much. Humans are fallible, young snake. I am afraid that you have been forced to se that more than most."

Harry nodded, his eyes dull.

"I'm tired" he said frankly, and the Baron looked at him with something which might have been close to sympathy.

"Go to bed, snakelet. I will talk to Severus. He does not truly understand. But falling over you in the morning will help neither of you."

Harry smiled, slightly, and acquiesced.