Rated R for swearing, violence, and suicide (and/or suicide-related issues). If this offends anyone, don't read. Thought I'd add that I own nadda. All characters, names and related indicia are property of J.K. Rowling. I am merely trying to share some of her goodness in a non-illegal way. :)

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Chapter 4: Lashing Out

Thursday arrived in a frenzy of tiredness and rain. The skies had cleared up earlier that afternoon and the ceiling of the great Hall was a staggering mixture of orange, purple and red; tinged with blue in the center, suggesting an upcoming cloudless night. Professor Sinistra would be delighted.

A large babble of talk had broken out over the students, for Dumbledore had announced not five minutes into dinner that the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be filled by none other than Reumus Lupin once more. Some people had cheered and raised their goblets in a salute, and others had looked quite frightened, but at least Dumbledore would be able to stop filling in like he had been for the past three weeks and get back to his office.

Ron poked uncertainly at his plate of food with his fork as though examining something potentially dangerous.

"What is this...beef? Chicken? Dog?"

Harry snorted into his potatoes.

Hermione, who was reading from her Ancient Runes textbook, looked up hopelessly at Ron and rolled her eyes. "It's pork chop pie, Ron. Didn't you hear Dumbledore in D.A.D.A. telling us all he'd added it to the menu?"

Ron shot her a glare. "I was busy reading the new Zonko's catalog, remember? You should know, you spent the whole class sending me notes telling me that if I didn't behave I'll go nowhere in life because I don't have a proper education..."

Hermione tutted and retreated back behind her book, muttering. Ron raised his eyebrows at her and pushed his plate away, searching for something better.

"What d'you think about it, Harry?" he asked, pulling a platter of steaks towards him.

Harry, who had sunk into a kind of blank trance, came back to reality and stared at Ron. "Huh?"

"Lupin," Ron repeated, biting into a portion of meat and chewing loudly. "Whaa you fink 'bout 'em commim back?"

Harry wished Ron would shut up. He shrugged. "It's really great...I mean, he couldn't get a job anywhere else, could he?"

Ron nodded and continued eating. Harry was glad; he really didn't feel like talking. Dumbledore's news had caught him off-guard. Sure Lupin was the best teacher they'd ever had, but every time Harry laid eyes on the (as far as he considered him), last Marauder, he felt a horrible stab of guilt, loneliness and sadness...he reminded Harry of Sirius. Harry picked at his potatoes, suddenly not hungry anymore. Glancing up at the staff table, the teachers were all talking quietly amongst themselves (with the exception of Snape, who was absent). The weight o the silence around him was threatening to crush him. Things were like this now: every time people near him stopped speaking, Sirius entered Harry's thoughts. Then with Sirius came images of the graveyard...Wormtail's severed, bleeding arm...Bellatrix Lestrange daring to look Neville in the face and gloat over torturing his parents into insanity...Harry's bleeding hands as broken glass cut into his skin while he hurled things around Dumbledore's office, screaming...

"Harry, are you all right? You're all pale and shaky."

Hermione was looking at Harry, her brown eyes filled with concern. Ron was still eating.

Harry hastily folded his trembling hands into his lap and forced a painful smile onto his face. Unfortunately, it came out as more of a grimace. Hermione looked at him in something that looked like pity.

"Will you be OK?"

"I'm fine," Harry lied. "I'm OK, you don't need to worry."

The girl looked unconvinced. She closed her book and took to staring off into space, trailing a finger around the rim of her goblet.

Harry's ears picked up the sound of Draco Malfoy behind him, above the noisy din of the Great Hall. He turned slightly so he could get a view of the boy, not really sure he wanted to see whatever it was that he was going on about. Most likely it wouldn't be something good.

Malfoy was laughing about something and waving his right arm around in a way that might have suggested he was miming being in a duel. Next, he seemed to freeze, then fall gracefully backwards off his seat amidst roars of laughter. Pansy Parkinson's ear-wrenching shriek was the most audible and with a wave of intense anger, Harry realized that Malfoy was miming Sirius' death.

"Oh no Harry, don't!"

Harry didn't hear Hermione's terrified warning. Suddenly he was standing and then Malfoy was in front of him. Anger pulsed through Harry with such intensity he wanted to scream. Instead, his fist came into contact with Malfoy's jaw and the blond boy was on the floor. He had his wand out, but Harry was ready.

"P-petrificus Totalus!"

Dodging Malfoy's spell, Harry clambered onto the boy and began to punch every inch of his face with as much strength as he could muster. Screams erupted from all over the Great Hall and he wasn't even half aware of strong arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him off the sobbing, bleeding boy in front of him. Harry was shouting as he was being pulled from the room, still putting up a terrific fight against whomever it was that was holding him.

"Don't you dare make fun of Sirius again! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!"

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Severus Snape had emerged out of a side door and into the Great Hall just in time to see Potter stand up from the Gryffindor table and proceed to attack the stupid Slytherin. His headache was making him as sour as ever and he pinched the bridge of his nose again before striding over to where Potter was beating the living shit out of Malfoy. Whoa. If he had had a classmate that unstable, he'd have been sure to provoke him as seldom as he could. Sometimes he wondered if Malfoy liked getting beaten up, then he wondered if Potter liked the attention of being the one to throw the first punch.

Malfoy had tried to freeze Potter's limbs up - admirable attempt - Snape himself would have personally chosen a hex with two or three syllables...like Stupefy...much quicker to say.

Malfoy was yelling. So was Potter. Snape stooped over - aware of how the students tried to move away from him - and grabbed the black-haired boy around the waist. Holy shit, he must have been angry; he was struggling with what felt like every ounce of strength in his body. Which was a surprising amount.

The teachers were swarming: McGonagall was hoisting the blubbering Malfoy to his feet, Madame Pomphrey was scurrying out of the Great Hall, Dumbledore was following her, and Flitwick was trying to restore order. Hagrid eventually took over for him and his booming voice dominated the noise in the room, bringing it almost down to silence. Snape hated every single person in Hogwarts at that moment for daring to cause such a ruckus when his head hurt so badly. He pulled the screaming boy out into the Entrance Hall and pushed him roughly against a stone pillar. For a moment Harry's eyes were panicked, then they quickly changed to confusion when he saw who it was.

"Shut up!" Snape hissed. "Potter - stop squarming like a goddamn idiot! You are in serious trouble. Twenty points from Gryffindor for making it so hard for me to get you out here! Now, we are going to proceed to the Headmaster's office and you will make sure that I do not have to lay my hands on you again, or I'll take every point in that bloody hourglass!"

Potter's emerald eyes were filled with furious tears, turning them into pools of hate. His hair...well...it was always messy. Snape straightened and shot Potter his best murderous glare, which got the boy moving. None spoke; both were seething.

Something was definitely wrong with Potter. Snape had seen it immediately when Harry had arrived at Hogwarts for his sixth year. He was fighting more times a day with Malfoy than Snape made fun of Longbottom in a month. His grades, from what Dumbledore had told him, were falling steadily. He looked awful: he was paler than usual and there were dark circles under his eyes, which had taken on a sort of...haunted look. He ate less, talked less, laughed less...yes, something was definitely wrong.

The stone gargoyles were in front of them now. The halls were quite silent.

He rolled his eyes irritably. What am I, a bloody councilor? "Puking Pastille." God, those things taste good? He hated Dumbledore's passwords. What did the old coot do, use up all the names for sweets and start over again? The two silently ascended the moving staircase and, without knocking, Snape pushed Potter into the gleaming office.

Dumbledore was stroking Fawkes and looking out a window, and did not look at either of them as they entered.

"Ah, Severus. Please, both of you take a seat. I trust Minerva and young Malfoy will be here shortly."

Potter looked like he'd rather stick his head into a bag of eels than sit down, but he plopped himself moodily into one of the chairs near the Headmaster's desk nonetheless. Snape cleared his throat.

"I have to stay, sir?"

Dumbledore looked at the potion's master. "I think it would be best if you did. I need to speak with you anyway."

Great, another speech. Fucking brilliant.

Snape's onyx eyes narrowed to slits. He turned and focused his attention on Potter instead. Hoping Dumbledore would not interfere, he rounded on the boy.

"What did you think you were doing, Potter?" he spat, glaring at the young wizard.

Harry cast a filthy look into the fireplace. "Malfoy was making fun of Sirius."

"I don't care if Malfoy was making fun of your sodding mother, acting as you did was totally inappropriate! Nor is your excuse sufficient enough! I am growing quite weary, and so is Professor McGonagall, of your idiocy. Both of us would love to retain some points for our houses by the end pf the year, or have punishments not occurred in that pampered little celebrity brain of yours? Have my detentions all week not been making you even consider the fact that speaking and acting out of turn come with consequences? I daresay --"

The door opened and all heads turned as Professor McGonagall and Draco Malfoy entered, both looking equally as angry.

Dumbledore pointed to a chair across from Harry. "Sit." There was no twinkle in his eyes. Malfoy sat.

"Potter," Professor McGonagall said harshly, her eyes boring holes into the boy. "Firstly, let me take fifty points from Gryffindor and condemn you to a week's worth of detentions starting tomorrow at six o'clock with Argus Filch. Secondly, I am absolutely ashamed at the moment to admit to the fact that you are in my house! What on earth - "

"Thank you, Minerva, Severus has already seen to shouting at Mr. Potter," Dumbledore interrupted. He looked at Snape expectantly.

"Fifty points from Slytherin," Snape said grudgingly. "But twenty points more for that quick attempt at spell work, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry opened his mouth furiously, and then closed it again. He looked at Malfoy with some satisfaction instead: his jaw was bruising, his nose was rather large and showed signs of bleeding, his eyes were puffing up and his lip looked like it might have seen some of Pomphrey's healing salve.

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes at Snape and set her jaw. Dumbledore looked very troubled.

"Boys," he said. "This fighting cannot go on. It simply cannot. We have tried to teach you. We have deducted points, given detentions...but causing a brawl like that in the middle of dinner reflected poorly on yourselves and your houses. It made you two look horrible. It inconvenienced the teachers, the students, and me from my delightful pork chop pie might I add. The light you shed on yourselves was most disturbing. I know both of you are in different houses, have different morals, different thoughts and feelings towards one another, - " And here his eyes flickered to the faces of the two professors in the room. - "But it in no way provides a sound excuse for the poor behavior you displayed."

Harry and Draco were glaring at each other as though wishing desperately that daggers would shoot from their eyes and pierce the other. Harry couldn't look at Dumbledore. As much as he loved seeing Malfoy injured, the Headmaster's words brought shame to him. His cheeks were suddenly tinged with red. His shoulders slumped and his chest heaved with retained anger. Harry was only half aware of the stinging and biting pain of his bruised and badly bleeding knuckles.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, walking behind his desk and sitting down. "We can do this the easy way or the difficult way. The smart and therefore easy path would be to cease fighting on all levels entirely."

Is that possible? Harry thought savagely.

"The hard way, if you boys will be so arrogant as to choose, will be one hundred points each from your houses no exceptions, a month's detention and suspension of privileges. This would include forfeiting your positions on the house Quidditch teams, Hogsmeade visits, and etcetera. Now, have I made myself clear?"

"Yes," Harry and Draco muttered.

"Very well," Dumbledore said. "Minerva, will you show Mr. Malfoy out? Professor Snape, Harry, a further word if you please."

Professor McGonagall shot one last horrible look at Harry before prodding Malfoy out of the room. Dumbledore surveyed Harry through his half-moon glasses.

"Harry, I hate doing this."

Harry found an area just left of Dumbledore's desk very interesting.

"It is quite deserved, however," Snape said smugly. "The both of them would be expelled if they were in my school."

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, look at me."

Look at you. You want me to look at you after you ignored me all last year...

Harry's insides clenched and he ripped his gaze away from the floor and slowly met Dumbledore's eyes. They seemed to be searching him from the inside out. Looking for something. Harry was scared, uncomfortable, furious.

He was everything.

He wanted to cry. To break something. To scream.

"Harry, is there something you need to tell me? Did something happen that's influencing this behavior? You never used to be like this until Sirius passed. Was it Sirius, Harry?"

Are you purposely trying to get me going? Why are you talking about Sirius? Why?

Harry groaned inwardly. His eyes grew cloudy, unwilling to let anyone see into his soul. His stomach felt like it needed to expel its contents.

"No, sir."

Snape tutted from beside him. "Of course not. He's being valiant and sparing us further misery, how Gryffindor of him."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, his eyes still locked on Harry's.

He's trying to get to me. To break me. No, I won't let it happen.

"I'm fine, sir."

"You are not fine, Harry."

"His beloved godfather just died, what do you expect?"

"Thank you, Severus."

Harry was on his feet. "I'm fine! I'm OK! Nothing happened! Can I go now, sir?"

Dumbledore sighed and looked sadly at the boy. "Very well. Straight to your dormitory, Harry."

Harry almost sprinted the length of the office. He wrenched the door open and was gone, blinded by his furious tears.

As soon as the door closed Dumbledore ran his hands over his tired face. "Severus...what am I going to do?"

Snape's eyes widened in surprise. Dumbledore asking his advice? This wasn't in the job description, taking care of insolent little wankers and playing the councilor...he would have to be sure to send Dumbledore an anonymous hate letter later...wow, Albus asking him?

"I would suggest writing to the families," Snape said icily. "But the Dursley's wouldn't give two shits if Potter died let alone if he's behaving in school, and the Malfoy's...well...I don't think any owl knows where to find a large group of Death Eaters evading the Ministry."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "True."

"The idiot's need to be watched at all times," Snape went on. "At least, Potter does; he's the one doing the physical things more often than not..."

The old wizard nodded. "I think," he said, apparently coming out of a deep thought. "That Harry is keeping something from us."

"Albus, the boy could fill volumes with the schemes and things he's keeping from us. Spare me a further headache and elaborate, please."

"His past," Dumbledore said, a small twinkle betraying his amusement at the man before him. "How we was treated. What these past six years have done to him."

"He'll be fine."

"There are danger signs, Severus."

"He's a bloody Gryffindor! He can take care of himself!"

"He has had to endure things that fully grown wizards have not had to!"

"He doesn't want help. In other words, he wants us to fuck off."

"I cannot let him - "

"And who do you think will help?" Severus was on his feet now too. "Me? Minerva? Sybil, for god's sake? Have you ever gotten past your unfortunate love for this child to see how pompous, bigheaded and moronic this boy is? I would rather drink Stinskap than even consider wasting my precious free time with that...that..."

Dumbledore looked crestfallen. Snape fell silent, hating Potter with every fibre in his body. He stared defiantly at the Headmaster.

"You can think what you like of Harry," Albus said quietly.

"I am very much obliged to," Snape hissed.

"I think, however," the old man said, his eyes turning cold. "That you need to get over this childish hate of him."

Snape gawked.

"Any disagreement you had with James Potter was in the past. The fact that Harry is James' son shouldn't prejudice you against this boy. He did nothing to you. If I am not mistaken, it was you who insinuated the hate and arguments between the two of you. I do not mean to point fingers, Severus, but this feud is almost as silly as Potter's feud with Malfoy."

Snape glared mutinously at the Headmaster, at loss for words.

"You will keep tabs on Harry and report any disturbing behavior to me. Talk to him if you can, in a nice way please...you're fairly observant, you'll be perfect." Dumbledore sat back in his chair and put his fingertips together below his chin.

Snape suddenly felt like crying. His free time...what little he had left...would be swallowed by that goddamn child. His walls buckled even more and he would have liked to do nothing better than to run to the comfort of his office and summon a bottle of Firewhisky from his liquor cabinet... The pain in his head gave a particularly nasty lurch and he closed his eyes, once more pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Severus?"

"Mmmmm?"

"You aren't saying anything."

"I am aware of that."

The potions master opened his eyes and studied Dumbledore wearily. "Fine. Whatever. I am going to go down to my office now and get horribly drunk...perhaps that will help me forget the pain. May I leave? Sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled slightly. "Certainly. I would ask to join you but I fear I might do something in a drunken state that I might regret later."

Snape shook his head and Flooed himself out of the old git's office.

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