He'd lost track of time; no longer was he able to count the days since he'd run away. Instead, he lived life minute by minute. His goals were no longer related to schoolwork, but to securing drugs for himself. He'd branched out, too. No longer did he restrict himself to just heroin. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Harry was now well versed in the use of crystal meth, cocaine, and a number of wizard drugs as well. Here, it didn't matter if he was poor. He only needed to perform certain acts to secure his fix. In fact, Harry's emaciated form, green eyes, and unruly hair were something of a legend around the neighborhood. As far as looks went, he was by far the least damaged. Compared to the other boys, he was an Adonis.
Currently, the boy who lived was sitting on a dingy blanket on a street corner. He had intended to do some busking, hoping that his musical skills would earn him some cash. Exhaustion had changed this, though, and instead he was staring off into space, not really noticing the rain that was hitting him, soaking him to the bone. Soon someone would come and find him, use him for something. He didn't care much what they did to him, so long as they did it somewhere warm. The only thing that had ever mattered in his life was gone, had thrown him out like a useless piece of garbage.
He looked up and saw his dealer. Harry had no money, and he knew what he'd have to do to get anything. Nothing bothered him anymore. That's what the drugs were for. If someone wanted it a little rough, then so be it. He could take it, and then he would dull the pain with opiates. The older man motioned for Harry to follow, and obediently, he did. He didn't see the stunned look on the dark haired man standing a few feet away.
Severus wanted to cry. His impatience had caused him to throw the boy out, when love would have sufficed. "We could have worked our way through it," he thought blithely. It had taken him weeks to track down the boy, mostly because everyone kept expecting Harry to just show up and apologize. When that didn't happen, Snape had begun searching the area, beginning with the Forbidden Forest and somehow winding up in Hogsmeade. He was just about to give up and go back to Hogwarts when he saw a scrawny urchin sitting on the sidewalk. There was something eerily familiar about the kid. Curious, Severus had watched him for a few minutes, taking in the sadness that emanated from him. It was as if the kid was sitting there, biding his time until it was time to die. Only when another man approached the boy did Severus recognize the teen as his Harry. For a moment, he was paralyzed as he watched the boy follow the man listlessly. Like a robot, he seemed program to carry out basic functions necessary to survival and nothing more. Suddenly, though, Snape broke into a run, so he could catch Harry before he disappeared again. Surprising both Harry and his dealer, Snape grabbed the boy and then began running to Hogwarts. Harry's dealer figured that the older man was just a pimp, angry that his property had escaped. Harry, in his drug induced stupor, thought that he was still with his dealer.
Snape hurried to his quarters, carrying Harry as if he were a small child who could be broken at any time. Once the pair were safe within his quarters, he eyed the boy carefully. He was obviously disoriented, thin as a rail, and badly beaten up. His clothes were filthy and soaked through, his arms covered in track marks. Snape was hardly put off. Instead, he flicked his wand to clean Harry's clothes and then sat down next to the boy. Gently, he wrapped his arms around Harry and watched as the boy drifted off to sleep.
When Harry woke up, he was struck by the sensation of being warm. There was no noise erupting from the street, no rain falling upon his head, no puddle under his head. He felt soft blankets covering him, cushions underneath his body, and someone warm behind him. Groggily, he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. He sat up with a start when he recognized Snape's apartment. He felt the arms around him tighten and turned his head to see Severus looking at him.
"You're not going to get away this time, Harry," he spoke softly. "I won't let you leave." When the boy continued struggling to get away, Snape used one of his hands to stroke the boy's hair, all the while maintaining his grip around Harry's waist. Instead of calming the boy, as Snape had hoped, Harry instead began to squirm more frantically. "Shh, Harry," it's ok," soothed Snape, "I'm here to help you. We're going to put you back together again. Don't you want to be whole again, to attend school again?" Something Snape said must have struck home with Harry because the boy suddenly stopped trying to escape. He either decided that resistance was futile or that he did want something else in life. Snape hoped it was the latter.
Once Harry had ceased moving, Snape stood up, still holding the boy in his arms. He had decided that it was time for the boy who lived to have a bath. Quickly, he removed Harry's clothes, carried him to the bathroom, and placed him in the tub. Automatically, the basin began to fill with water. He was shocked to see how thin Harry had grown in just a few weeks. As the water rose to cover Harry's body, the boy began to relax slightly. Snape gently washed his body, careful not to disturb any wounds. Severus knew that he should be shocked by how battered Harry was, but he wasn't. Harry would have been low on the proverbial food chain out on the streets. He would have had to put up with all sorts of treatment.
Once he was satisfied that Harry was clean, he lifted the boy out of the tub and dried him off. He felt Harry lean into the touch, obviously enjoying feeling cared for. Soon, Harry was dressed in clean clothes, and if it hadn't been for the fact that he'd lost about twenty pounds, no one would've guessed that he'd disappeared.
Gently, Severus took Harry's head into his hands and looked into the scared green eyes. "We're going to work through this, Harry," he said, "just like we did the last time. It's going to be ok, but you're going to have to trust me. You're going to have to believe that I won't leave you because you aren't comfortable with something, because you aren't ready for something." He paused, seeing that Harry was now crying, but trying not to show it. He was still on something, Severus knew, and he was disoriented. "There will be differences, though," he continued. "First off, if you aren't ready to give up something, you must tell me. I'm assuming that you've picked up a few more nasty habits this time around, and it won't do at all to have you quit them all at once." He watched the boy, looking for any reaction.
"If…if I can have cigarettes," he muttered, "and maybe the coke…at least for a while." Harry looked at Snape hopefully. He desperately wanted to please him, and couldn't bear to be thrown out again.
"Cigarettes I think we can do, and cocaine maybe," replied Snape. "We'll see. What else are you currently taking?"
"What am I not taking," asked a sullen Harry.
"Heroin, meth, skillith," asked Snape, rattling off a few intoxicants he knew of. When Harry didn't respond, however, he knew that the boy was a bit worse off than he'd initially thought. He wasn't sure how to deal with someone using meth.
"Do you have any of it with you," asked Snape. Harry shook his head in a negative response, and the potions master's face took on a look of relief.
Contrary to his initial beliefs, Snape found that it was nearly impossible to ease Harry off of meth without the use of another drug. The problem was, though, that getting him off meth resulted in increased use of heroin. Meanwhile, the battered boy was still expected to attend classes. Luckily, prior to his relapse, Harry's grades had been exemplary, so he could afford to be somewhat preoccupied. This was good, because Harry spent a good deal of his time curled up in a ball on the living room rug. He hadn't tried to beg Snape for anything; he knew it wouldn't work. Indeed, it seemed like his spirit was broken for some reason. Snape almost wanted him to do something, just to see some emotion in him.
"I was thinking," began Snape, "that tomorrow we'd begin weaning you off of the rest of the drugs." He looked at Harry, hoping for some response. Not surprisingly, Harry seemed to find the ceiling quite interesting. "You can, of course, continue to smoke cigarettes if you feel the need," continued Snape, "although eventually that too will have to end." Still no response from the boy. Sighing, he moved to the floor and scooped the boy into his arms.
"Why do you shut yourself away from me, Harry," he asked, stroking the boy's back. "Why are you silent all of a sudden?"
If Snape could read Harry's thoughts, he might have figured out why. Harry was afraid, afraid of being thrown out again, afraid to be vulnerable, afraid to feel. He found it was easier to retreat into himself, and just allow his body to exist. Sure, the rest of the world saw him as a shell of his former self, but he was protected. If he didn't do anything, then no one could say that he'd done something wrong. Still, he wanted to respond to Severus, wanted to trust him again. He wanted to feel worthy, but it seemed so impossible.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Severus separated himself from Harry and went to answer it. Before he could properly react, Ron and Hermione burst into the room and made a beeline for Harry. Within seconds, Hermione had wrapped her arms around Harry.
"We've missed you, Harry," she said softly. "When will you come back to us?" When forlorn green eyes looked up to her, Severus felt a pang of jealousy. He brushed it away, telling himself that it didn't matter who got Harry to snap out of it, so long as someone broke through his barrier. "I know it's hard," she continued, "but you can trust us. We love you, and nothing has been the same since you ran off."
"What if it's wrong," asked Harry suddenly. "What if everything I do is wrong?"
"Then we'll work through it," she said. "Harry, what you are doing isn't right. Hiding away from people isn't healthy, and your friends miss you. I know," she added, smoothing his hair out of his face, "that Severus misses you. He doesn't care about your mistakes, he just wants his Harry back."
"But what if," he started, only to be cut off by Hermione.
"No what ifs, Harry. We're your friends. There's nothing you could do to drive us away," she said.
"We know," interjected Ron, "you've tried."
"Hush, Ron," chided Hermione. "Harry, we love you as you are, flaws and all. Please come back to us. Let Severus help you." When Harry nodded slowly, Severus sighed in relief. Somehow, Hermione had fixed him. "Well, not fixed him," he reminded himself, "the boy is still addicted to cocaine and probably heroin, but maybe he'll be receptive to help now."
"We're going to go do homework now, Harry," said Hermione softly. "Come join us when you're ready to." She kissed his head and rose to her feet. She nodded at Severus and then she and Ron exited the room. It was then that it happened.
Severus had just closed the door when he felt arms wrapped around him. He turned around to see Harry frantically trying to bury himself in his arms and chest. Snape could hardly contain his joy at this. It had been quite a while since Harry had hugged him. He stroked the boy's hair and back and felt the boy's body begin to shake, as for the first time, Harry allowed himself to cry.
"I want to be better," he whimpered. "I want to be with my friends, want to be with you, I just…" he trailed off as his voice cracked.
"I know Harry, I know," whispered Severus, "and we're going to get you better."
"It's so fucking hard," yelled the boy who lived, in a rare display of temper. "For the love of god, why can't I just use what I want to use when I want to use it?" He glared at his mate, daring him to say anything, knowing that Severus would fight fire with fire. Angrily, he began to pace back and forth.
"You know, if you don't stop pacing, I'm going to have to replace the bloody carpet," quipped Snape.
"Fuck you, and fuck your carpet," hollered Harry.
"So eloquent today," muttered Snape.
"I could just leave, you know," threatened Harry. "I could just up and disappear, and you'd never find me, and I could do all the things I wanted to."
"Yes, I suppose you could," replied Snape calmly. "But obviously, you aren't going anywhere."
"Then make it fucking go away," howled the boy. "I just can't do it without it."
"You're starting to sound like Lupin, with all the howling. I may have to brew you up some wolfsbane potion, just to be safe." Snape continued to sit on the sofa, sipping his tea. He knew that eventually, Harry would stop ranting and would instead curl up beside him and whimper until the worst of this particular craving past. Until then, though, he had to put up with Harry's mood swings and rants. Poppy was thinking about acquiring some muggle medicines to help him through this time. She said that his mood swings were dangerous, and what's more, he was probably suffering from some sort of chemical imbalance. Snape didn't doubt it. Harry cycled rapidly from elatedly happy to dangerously morose and apathetic.
"I don't see why I need to quit anyway," he continued. "It's not like it's the worst thing in the world. I mean, if I can find happiness through something, then how can it be so bad? You don't see Ron and Hermione trying to take you away from me, do you?" His green eyes bored holes in Snape's skull, daring the man to answer.
"Well, if you'd consider for a moment, the difference between ingesting poison on a regular basis and a consensual, loving relationship, you might gain some insight," commented Snape wryly. He looked at the carpet, noticing that Harry really was wearing a hole in it from his regular pacing. The boy never slept anymore; he couldn't. He hadn't learned how to cope with the thoughts on his own, and Snape had learned the hard way that the boy would become addicted to any sleep aid currently available in the world. As such, Harry hadn't slept in about two weeks. Remarkably, the boy still maintained his high grades. Snape knew it was because he spent all night studying to keep his mind off things.
"You don't even let me smoke inside. How on earth is that supposed to be supportive," muttered Harry.
"Well forgive me if I don't want my quarters to smell of cigarette smoke for the rest of my tenure here." He could see that Harry's patience was wearing thin, and he knew that soon the boy would collapse on the sofa.
"It's just so hard to remember," he said sadly. It hurt Snape, to hear how haunted Harry was. "I just want to forget sometimes." With that, he flopped down on the sofa and leaned into Snape.
"What you need, Harry, is a hobby. Whatever happened to that blasted guitar you used to play," asked Severus.
"Pawned it," said the boy softly.
"Well that was stupid of you," replied Snape. Mentally, he made a note to track down a guitar for Harry.
"Right, insult my intelligence why don't you," snapped Harry.
"I find that leaving that to your professors is insult enough," said Snape in a barely audible voice.
"What'd you say," asked Harry defensively.
"Nothing, why don't we play chess or something?" With that, the pair began to play, Harry scowling at the pieces when they tried to engage him in conversation.