Chapter 5

The first thing Harry noticed as he awoke was the silence. Ever since first year, Seamus had snored like some sort of wild animal, and he had grown accustomed to it, to the point of almost needing it to sleep. To awake in silence was disconcerting. It wasn't like Seamus to awake before Harry; indeed, Harry tended to awake before everyone else. So either Harry had slept in, or Seamus had woken up early. Either way, Harry was worried.

Eyes still groggy from sleep, Harry reached out to push aside the heavy curtains around the bed, only to discover thin air. Jolting awake in the shock, he forced his eyes to open and examine his surroundings. First Seamus was gone, and now his bed had been changed. Where could he be? For all he knew, he could have been kidnapped by Voldemort.

But as he looked around the unfamiliar room, furnished mostly in Ravenclaw blues and silvers, and allowed himself to feel the soft comfort of the bed in which he lay – much bigger than those in the Gryffindor dorms – he slowly began to relax. Voldemort wouldn't house him like this, would he? Surely he would much rather keep him in some cold, wet dungeon. But if that was the case, then where was he? For he was sure he had never seen this room before in his life.

Continuing his observations, he noticed that the room almost seemed to have been made for him. There, in the walk-in closets, were numerous sets of robes and muggle clothing that looked exactly his size. There, on the bookshelf, a collection of Defence books, with what looked to be a row on quidditch near the top. And on the bedside table, was that a picture of his Godfather?

Rubbing his eyes in shock, he confirmed to himself that it was. This is weird. Then, just as he prepared to examine the photo more closely, he noticed the dark figure on the chair beside his bed. How did I not notice him before? he wondered, noticing how the figure seemed to blend in with the shadows. Then the man – for he somehow knew it was a man – shifted in his sleep, giving Harry the sight of a porcelain mask, seemingly adhered to his face.

Suddenly, memories of the night before came rushing back. This man, this human man, was his angel, and this was the Secret Library, for lack of a better name. He remembered finding out about the founder's rooms, and sitting on the couch in the library, where his angel told him his name. Severus. He must have carried him to this room after he fell asleep, and stayed near to watch him. Surprised, Harry realised that he had slept without nightmares for the first night in months.

Seeing his angel's hair falling in his face, Harry reached out to push it back, when his fingers touched the edge of the white mask. He began to draw them away, remembering how cold Severus had become when he asked him about his secrets… then stopped. His angel was perfect, always so controlled, so graceful, so elegant. What could he be hiding?

Succumbing to his curiosity, Harry reached out once more and pulled the mask from his teacher's face. At that moment, an arm lashed out to grab his wrist, and two black eyes shot open and glared at him in abject fury. "So," his angel hissed in anger, as Harry cowered before him, "You wish to see what the great Severus Snape hides behind his mask, do you? Then look!"

His hand twisted Harry's wrist, dragging him before his visage. Harry's only coherent thought was that the mask must be holding a glamour, for his deformities covered more than just that area. But faced with the horrifically mutilated face, all Harry could do was stare. One eye had been completely destroyed, the remaining socket caved in, while half his ear was bitten off. The nose, so straight and aquiline, was crooked like a hawk's, bent and battered as if it had been broken and never properly reset. Horrific scars marked his face and neck, and his skin was as pale as snow, from too many years underground. His hair, so silky and black, was missing in one place, where horrific bitemarks showed clearly on his forehead. In short, Harry felt he was looking upon a monster.

"So," Severus spat, as he saw Harry's fear and disgust, "Is this what you wanted to see? Are you happy now, planning on returning to your precious Gryffindors and telling them that you've seen a monster?"

"Angel, you're hurting me!" Harry cried, as the grip on his arm grew more fierce.

Ignoring him, Severus continued his rant. "Well, look your fill, for now you can never escape me! This," he beckoned with hatred towards his face, "Is what you'll be cursed with every day for your whole life. Was it worth it? WAS IT WORTH IT?"

Severus flung Harry against the far wall, and the Gryffindor landed in a heap on the floor, sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated continually, as he curled up as if to avoid a beating, looking at the older man with terror in his eyes.

Watching him weep, Severus realised what he'd done, and collapsed back into the armchair. Yes, Harry had been rude, but Severus had always known that he was curious, that this was bound to happen one day. Monsters like him were not meant to have friends.

As a tear trickled down his face, he slowly put the mask back on, hiding his gruesome face so as not to scare his pupil any more. Gently, he placed one hand on the still sobbing forms back, and rubbed gently until the Gryffindor calmed down. "Sh, Harry, I'm sorry. I'm not going to hurt you, I would never hurt you, you know that."

As he saw the boy's bruises on arm and back, he winced in pain. Here he was, no better than the Dursleys, hurting an innocent boy. He didn't deserve his friendship. Lifting the boy back to his feet, he resigned himself to an eternity of loneliness. There was no way Harry would want to talk to him again. But it wouldn't be fair to keep him down here in the darkness.

Sighing, he wiped the tears from Harry's eyes and took him by the hand, apparating the two of them back to the passage behind the mirror, and gently pushing him through. Sadly, he said, "Go, Dumbledore will be missing you," and returned to the dungeons before the younger man could reply. He was afraid of what he would hear.

Slowly, lethargically, Harry made his lonely way back up to the Gryffindor dorms. The happiness he had felt the night before seemed but a distant memory, and all he could feel was pain. Why, why had he let his curiosity get the better of him again? He knew he shouldn't have looked behind the mask, knew his angel would have been wearing it for a reason, but he just had to go and look.

He was so stupid!

And then, the way he reacted. Sure, it was shocking to discover how deformed his angel was, even a bit scary. But to feel disgust, even for a split second? Harry was full of shame. He knew he deserved every harsh word, every bruise, every hateful glare. His angel wasn't a monster, despite his horrible face, but a good man, a kind man, a friend. Harry was the monster. He had hurt his only friend, invaded his privacy, and now he had lost him forever. And he couldn't blame anyone but himself.

Tears streaming down his cheeks, he slowly made his way through Gryffindor tower and collapsed in sobs on his bed, so different to the one he had woken in that morning. And as the sun began to dawn, the aching loneliness and regret in his heart gave way into a restless, tormented sleep.

Harry went to breakfast with his dormmates that day, sitting quietly at the Gryffindor table as he nibbled on a piece of dry toast, pretending a hunger he did not feel. He followed them along to class, quietly doing what he was told without complaint. Ron was glad that Harry was no longer trying to overshadow him; indeed, Harry had trouble with some of the simplest charms, which Ron only took as further proof of his superiority. Seeing his distracted and emotionless gaze, the school generally assumed that the Boy-Who-Lived once again considered himself above the rest of them, not even bothering to pay attention. Not like that Ronald Weasley, always performing the practicals so well. By the end of the day, everyone had completely forgotten Harry's masterful showing on the previous day, putting it down to a fluke or someone else's help.

Everyone, that is, except Draco.

When his new friend didn't even look at him during breakfast, he was worried. Hadn't they promised to talk? But no, Harry ignored him just like everyone else, following his routine without any thought, and as Ron and the school grew annoyed, Draco grew concerned. He had watched Harry for almost all of their schooling, and Harry had always shown amazing focus in classes, as if he desperately needed to know everything he could. Harry always participated with the Gryffindors, if only to feel like he belonged even as his friends slowly drifted away. Harry never got himself into situations where he would lose Gryffindor house points without a reason. Even Professor McGonagal had taken points from him today for his distraction!

As Draco watched Harry go about his routine, he realized that Harry looked like the walking dead, or like there was no reason left to try. There was something terribly wrong with his Gryffindor friend.

Thus it was that after the final class of the day, Draco waited outside the room for McGonagal to finish her lecture, rather than following his housemates to the dinner table. Harry needed to talk to someone, and since none of his so-called 'friends' noticed anything wrong, it was up to him. And to be honest, Draco didn't mind the idea of being Harry's confidant.

As Harry walked through the door, eyes blank as always, Draco grabbed his arm and pulled him into an empty classroom. Trying to get a rise out of him, Draco started to taunt him, asking him whether he thought he was too good to pay attention to classes, saying he was destined to lose against Voldemort, but no spark of anger showed in the gryffindor's eyes. All the other boy emotionlessly responded was, "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Malfoy?" Draco asked, surprised. Surely Harry hadn't forgotten yesterday's conversation already? And yet, this Harry was so different from the bright, excited boy he had encountered the other night.

Grabbing Harry by the shoulders, Draco began to shake him, staring into the lifeless green eyes as he asked, "What the hell is wrong with you, Harry! You've been walking around like a zombie all day. What happened to you last night?"

"Nothing," the Gryffindor replied coldly, as he tried to shake Draco's hands from his shoulders. "Just leave me alone."

"Did someone hurt you, Harry? Was it the Gryffindors, is that why you're ignoring them?"

"No, no one hurt me. Just leave me alone."

"Why won't you talk to me Harry?" Draco pleaded. "I know there's something wrong, people don't naturally turn from excited to emotionless overnight. You have to talk to someone, Harry! Talk to me, I care, I'm worried about you." His voice began to race through the words, full of emotion. "Why won't you let me help you? I want to be your friend, I'm not going to tell anyone or hurt you or use it against you. Why won't you let me in?"

"BECAUSE FRIENDSHIP HURTS!" The Gryffindor eventually shouted, before collapsing to the ground in sobs. As Draco leaned closer, he thought he heard the Gryffindor faintly mutter, "It's all my fault," over and over again.

"What did your friends do, Harry," Draco inquired gently, one hand resting gently on his shaking shoulders. "Did the Gryffindors say something mean to you?"

"NO!" Harry yelled, staring up at Draco through teary eyes. "No," he continued more softly, "It wasn't the Gryffindors. We're hardly friends anymore. It's… someone else…"

Accepting that Harry wouldn't tell him who the person was just yet, Draco inquired, "What did they do? Did he hurt you?" He asked, suddenly noticing the hand-shaped bruise on Harry's arm. "Did he try to… force himself on you?"

"No, no, nothing like that!" Harry replied hurriedly, gazing deep into Draco's eyes in a desperate attempt to show his true feelings. "He would never hurt me, never! He's my best friend… my only friend…"

"Don't say that, Harry! Aren't I your friend too?" Draco asked sadly.

"You're… you're my friend, Draco. He told me not to trust you, that Malfoys always betray you, but I don't have anyone else. Everyone needs friends, right?" The Gryffindor's eyes looked almost pleading as he gazed at Draco, as if he was desperate for someone to care.

"That's right, Harry, and I promise I won't betray you." Draco reassured his new friend. "I'm not like my father, you know that, right?"

"I know that, Draco," Harry replied, offering a watery smile to show his trust.

"But if he didn't hurt you, what happened to your friend? Why are you so depressed?"

"I did something horrible, Draco!" Harry replied, revealing his story through heartfelt sobs. "He trusted me, and… I invaded his privacy, and he was so angry, and he deserved to be, because I never should have done it, but I was only curious, I never meant to hurt him, but now he'll never talk to me again!" He rested his head on his arms, letting his tears soak into the dark material of his robes. "Oh Draco, I've lost my best friend, and it's all my fault! Just like when I got Sir... my godfather killed, and Cedric, and my parents… why do I always hurt the people I love, Draco?"

"Sh, Harry," Draco comforted, holding the distraught boy in his arms as he released all his hurt and anger. "It's not your fault, Harry, none of it's your fault. He'll understand, he'll come back to you. Your friendship's too precious to give up, Harry."

Stifling his sobs, Harry looked up into the slate grey eyes, filled with concern and friendship, and hesitantly asked, "You really think so?"

"I really do. Now come on, Harry," he said, helping the Gryffindor to his feet, "Let's go get some dinner, and then how about a game of exploding snap. What do you think?"

"That… that would be nice, Draco," Harry replied as he stood, wiping away his tears and smiling warmly at the Slytherin. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Harry. What are friends for?"

As the two boys walked down to the kitchens together, a dark figure watched after them longingly, before turning away. Harry had chosen Draco, he didn't need him anymore. Draco would be good to him, would help him have fun, show him the light. Harry deserved that sort of friend, someone with whom he could share picnics and childish games and trips to the pub, not endless days of darkness with nothing to do but read or talk. Soon enough, Harry would forget about his tutor, and everyone would be happier.

But if he was so glad Harry was happy, why was he crying?

Review Responses:

Angel of Immortality, come to think of it, I think Phantom of Paradise is a movie. There are just so many different things to do with Phantom out there, y'know? As for the book, I'll take your word for it.

Kungzoune, if you like my take on the shrieking shack incident, you HAVE to read "Ghosts" by ntamara. It was my inspiration, brilliant fic.

Strega, well, noone ever said Dumbledore wasn't a bit insane ;) And you do have a point. As for the fic, I'm glad you like how the characters are developing, and I hope you enjoyed the interactions in this chapter… poor Harry…

Moondancer, I've heard of Susan Kay's book, and I probably will get around to reading it… one day… more of a fantasy reader, though, so I'm currently devouring David Gemmel.

Lotrox, I'm so jealous. I wanna see phantom! Still, glad you like the fic.