HP/SS pairing, don't like, don't read. Disclaimer: Own not,
profit not, sue not.
If this bares any resemblance to your or someone else's story, it was not intentional and I'm very sorry it's not very original.
Chapter 2 Overload
Har-.Potter wasn't eating again. He was sure that he'd told the child-boy- teen-whatever that he was supposed to eat something, but naturally he was downright throwing it back in his face. Severus watched with interest as Granger tried to tear Harry's attention away from a torch flickering in a less than spectacular way. For a second Severus wondered if there was something special about this torch that only The-Boy-Who-Extraordinary- Things-Happen-To could see, but on closer inspection he dismissed this, deciding Harry's interest in the torch was something akin to his fascination with the green ink earlier, the fact that it wasn't the face of someone who was trying to talk to him. Belatedly Severus realised he was staring. He didn't care; if Harry felt his gaze he gave no outward signs.
Harry felt the onyx eyes boring in to him. He could do nothing but quail under that look, it seemed to lay him open. All the weakness he had to hide, all the fronts he'd had to put up, all the pain of his weighted conscience he'd had to conceal. The scars on Harry's wrists burned as he felt his carefully placed walls crumbling around him, leaving him exactly as he was, scared, scarred, lonely and guilt ridden. With out a word to anyone Harry stood, fighting to stop himself meeting the stare, because if he did he would surely break and everyone would see the hope of the wizarding-world shatter. He left without once taking his eyes from the floor.
Severus waited a couple of minutes before standing; the boy couldn't have gone far in the state he was in. A master of fronts himself, Severus could see Harry's as it fell around him. His exit unlike Harry's was noted by only two people, a Gryffindor brunette, now flanked by only one of her two constant companions of the last 6 years and a Slytherin his eyes usually an abnormally clear grey now clouded as a moonstone with confusion.
Having exited the hall by that ever-convenient little side door the teachers used, Severus took out a blank sheet of parchment yellowed with age. Lightly tapping it with his wand and muttering quietly "Death to Gryffindor." A map to rival the marauders appeared lacking only the secret passage to the shrieking shack. Severus looked for Harry, he hadn't made it more than twenty meters from the hall.
Hermione was confused; Harry had acted strangely, even for him. Who just walks out of a meal without talking to anyone? This was not normal behaviour even for the now quiet and withdrawn Harry everyone was just starting to get used to. She sighed; if Harry wanted to talk about it, he'd mention it. Hermione was determined not to push, after all, what would happen if she pushed too far? Severus was about to find out.
~~*~~*~~*~~
Harry sat, hugging his legs, head resting on his knees, back shuddering with his empty sobs. He never had been able to cry properly, not for two years. A comforting hand rested at the nape of his neck, ever so softly caressing. In his misery Harry didn't care who it was, it was contact. The skin under those fingers was somehow alive, taunting him with their whisper of sensation. Harry wanted, needed to feel. He lent in to the touch. He hadn't let anyone touch him in so long, he didn't deserve the consolation that hugs from his friends offered, he didn't deserve to have someone who could be bothered quietly sitting with him, trying to soothe nerves so damaged that they barely even reacted to normal stimuli. But there was someone here, silent and reassuring, gently pulling him into a hug. He could feel it coming, and that was just it, he could feel. Everything he had numbed himself to, ignored, put out of mind came flooding through his senses. His heart was thawed and under everything he felt, it started burning. The tears that had never come came, the walls crumbled and Harry started falling into the darkness of his mind.
Severus was not surprised to find Harry as he had. Even the teen's sobbing had hardly been much of a shock considering the state in which he had left the hall. No, what affronted Severus was that Harry no longer seemed to care where he was, or who was there. He didn't even care enough to turn and see who laid their hand on his back. The teen's inattentiveness worried the Slytherin until something even more disturbing occurred, Harry desperately lent into the touch as if it was all there was, all he could feel. Severus rubbed gently trying to convey reassurance, trying to soothe him. It didn't help; he was simply rewarded by more empty sobs.
Awkwardly but with quiet determination he pulled Harry into a hug. Instead of calming him down this merely heightened the young man's agitation. Harry turned unseeing, blinded by tears and threw his arms around his teachers neck, face buried in it's hollow, hands entwined in the long slightly oily strands of Severus's hair. The body Harry was clinging on to as if his very existence depended on it stiffened for a second, Severus had not counted on becoming a pillow/tissue. However resigning him-self to the fact he would need to change his robes and could be squashed uncomfortably up against the wall for some time he sighed, encircling Harry tightly in his arms and gently as a mother, had Harry but known it, rocked the teen back and forth. Harry cried for five minutes more before his emotional out break took its toll and he passed out.
~~*~~*~~*~~
Hermione left lunch early as usual; there was no one to talk to anymore. Ron was always attempting to talk to her about Quidditch and though she thought it was sweet of him to try to keep her mind of Harry it got annoying after a while, besides she had nothing useful to contribute. They both felt Harry's absence keenly, they cared about each other a lot but somehow in normal conversation Harry kept it together changing the subject to include Hermione when it got too Quidditch orientated, or for Ron when Hermione started to get a little too animated about Goblin Rebellions. So what was a girl to do? Go and study for her transfiguration end of topic test, of course (even if it was in two months and they hadn't even covered the requirements yet). She rounded the corner, trying to remember how exactly to ensure that her piece of pasta would turn into a perfect fine bone china plate with authentic Willow Pattern decorations ( Magonnagal had a thing for that design, something to do with two animagi lovers escaping their families as birds) when passing the opening of a side passage she could have sworn she saw movement. Curiosity killed the, well, former cat, so Hermione turned on her heel to see what it was that had caught her eye. At first glance she figured that it must have been a trick of the light, or perhaps an over active portrait but no. Once her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light she saw two figures, one clinging desperately to the other, face turned away, nuzzled into the hollow of the other's neck. She couldn't tell who that was from where she stood and there was no way she was going any closer because the second person, looking some what worse for wear and a little squashed to boot was unmistakably Professor Snape. Hermione quickly turned around and left, mind ticking over.
If this bares any resemblance to your or someone else's story, it was not intentional and I'm very sorry it's not very original.
Chapter 2 Overload
Har-.Potter wasn't eating again. He was sure that he'd told the child-boy- teen-whatever that he was supposed to eat something, but naturally he was downright throwing it back in his face. Severus watched with interest as Granger tried to tear Harry's attention away from a torch flickering in a less than spectacular way. For a second Severus wondered if there was something special about this torch that only The-Boy-Who-Extraordinary- Things-Happen-To could see, but on closer inspection he dismissed this, deciding Harry's interest in the torch was something akin to his fascination with the green ink earlier, the fact that it wasn't the face of someone who was trying to talk to him. Belatedly Severus realised he was staring. He didn't care; if Harry felt his gaze he gave no outward signs.
Harry felt the onyx eyes boring in to him. He could do nothing but quail under that look, it seemed to lay him open. All the weakness he had to hide, all the fronts he'd had to put up, all the pain of his weighted conscience he'd had to conceal. The scars on Harry's wrists burned as he felt his carefully placed walls crumbling around him, leaving him exactly as he was, scared, scarred, lonely and guilt ridden. With out a word to anyone Harry stood, fighting to stop himself meeting the stare, because if he did he would surely break and everyone would see the hope of the wizarding-world shatter. He left without once taking his eyes from the floor.
Severus waited a couple of minutes before standing; the boy couldn't have gone far in the state he was in. A master of fronts himself, Severus could see Harry's as it fell around him. His exit unlike Harry's was noted by only two people, a Gryffindor brunette, now flanked by only one of her two constant companions of the last 6 years and a Slytherin his eyes usually an abnormally clear grey now clouded as a moonstone with confusion.
Having exited the hall by that ever-convenient little side door the teachers used, Severus took out a blank sheet of parchment yellowed with age. Lightly tapping it with his wand and muttering quietly "Death to Gryffindor." A map to rival the marauders appeared lacking only the secret passage to the shrieking shack. Severus looked for Harry, he hadn't made it more than twenty meters from the hall.
Hermione was confused; Harry had acted strangely, even for him. Who just walks out of a meal without talking to anyone? This was not normal behaviour even for the now quiet and withdrawn Harry everyone was just starting to get used to. She sighed; if Harry wanted to talk about it, he'd mention it. Hermione was determined not to push, after all, what would happen if she pushed too far? Severus was about to find out.
~~*~~*~~*~~
Harry sat, hugging his legs, head resting on his knees, back shuddering with his empty sobs. He never had been able to cry properly, not for two years. A comforting hand rested at the nape of his neck, ever so softly caressing. In his misery Harry didn't care who it was, it was contact. The skin under those fingers was somehow alive, taunting him with their whisper of sensation. Harry wanted, needed to feel. He lent in to the touch. He hadn't let anyone touch him in so long, he didn't deserve the consolation that hugs from his friends offered, he didn't deserve to have someone who could be bothered quietly sitting with him, trying to soothe nerves so damaged that they barely even reacted to normal stimuli. But there was someone here, silent and reassuring, gently pulling him into a hug. He could feel it coming, and that was just it, he could feel. Everything he had numbed himself to, ignored, put out of mind came flooding through his senses. His heart was thawed and under everything he felt, it started burning. The tears that had never come came, the walls crumbled and Harry started falling into the darkness of his mind.
Severus was not surprised to find Harry as he had. Even the teen's sobbing had hardly been much of a shock considering the state in which he had left the hall. No, what affronted Severus was that Harry no longer seemed to care where he was, or who was there. He didn't even care enough to turn and see who laid their hand on his back. The teen's inattentiveness worried the Slytherin until something even more disturbing occurred, Harry desperately lent into the touch as if it was all there was, all he could feel. Severus rubbed gently trying to convey reassurance, trying to soothe him. It didn't help; he was simply rewarded by more empty sobs.
Awkwardly but with quiet determination he pulled Harry into a hug. Instead of calming him down this merely heightened the young man's agitation. Harry turned unseeing, blinded by tears and threw his arms around his teachers neck, face buried in it's hollow, hands entwined in the long slightly oily strands of Severus's hair. The body Harry was clinging on to as if his very existence depended on it stiffened for a second, Severus had not counted on becoming a pillow/tissue. However resigning him-self to the fact he would need to change his robes and could be squashed uncomfortably up against the wall for some time he sighed, encircling Harry tightly in his arms and gently as a mother, had Harry but known it, rocked the teen back and forth. Harry cried for five minutes more before his emotional out break took its toll and he passed out.
~~*~~*~~*~~
Hermione left lunch early as usual; there was no one to talk to anymore. Ron was always attempting to talk to her about Quidditch and though she thought it was sweet of him to try to keep her mind of Harry it got annoying after a while, besides she had nothing useful to contribute. They both felt Harry's absence keenly, they cared about each other a lot but somehow in normal conversation Harry kept it together changing the subject to include Hermione when it got too Quidditch orientated, or for Ron when Hermione started to get a little too animated about Goblin Rebellions. So what was a girl to do? Go and study for her transfiguration end of topic test, of course (even if it was in two months and they hadn't even covered the requirements yet). She rounded the corner, trying to remember how exactly to ensure that her piece of pasta would turn into a perfect fine bone china plate with authentic Willow Pattern decorations ( Magonnagal had a thing for that design, something to do with two animagi lovers escaping their families as birds) when passing the opening of a side passage she could have sworn she saw movement. Curiosity killed the, well, former cat, so Hermione turned on her heel to see what it was that had caught her eye. At first glance she figured that it must have been a trick of the light, or perhaps an over active portrait but no. Once her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light she saw two figures, one clinging desperately to the other, face turned away, nuzzled into the hollow of the other's neck. She couldn't tell who that was from where she stood and there was no way she was going any closer because the second person, looking some what worse for wear and a little squashed to boot was unmistakably Professor Snape. Hermione quickly turned around and left, mind ticking over.