To all my recent reviewers and all those who have reviewed since my last chapter…indeed, especially to any who are still waiting having read when I originally posted, I am terribly sorry it has been so long. Things came up in my life which took me away from Harry Potter and my writing for a long period of time, and only now have I found the confidence to continue with the story. I hope it is still in the same tone as the rest and hope you enjoy. Thankyou so much for still reading. Kate.
Chapter Ten
Rushing into action whilst keeping a firm grip on the damaged wrist, Severus shouted out to the house elf who was lurking in the doorway, wringing her thin hands anxiously.
"Well don't just stand there, you foolish creature. Go to my stores and bring me a blood replenishing potion and my black box…you know of what I speak"
His voice betrayed one of the rarest emotions to be found in the usually emotionless man…panic. Although he could deal with the blood loss to a degree, there was no possibility of sealing the wound with normal wizarding methods. Those did not work when the damage was self inflicted for reasons unknown even to himself. Not daring to risk moving the boy, he looked down, noting the way the child's face stood out in stark relief against his black trousers. Time was running out and he willed Minky's return, even as the agonising guilt threatened to overwhelm him for a brief time.
Within minutes that seemed like hours, rapid and light footsteps announced the elf's return and he turned his upper torso slightly, reaching out an arm to snatch the lilac coloured potions vial that had been tentatively held out. Uncorking it quickly, he raised Harry's head slightly, forced his mouth open and poured the potion down, rubbing the boy's throat to ensure he didn't choke.
Dropping the empty bottle, he removed a large black lacquered box from Minky, placed it on the floor and flipped the lid open. Within lay an odd assortment of muggle medical instruments, including a scalpel and various unusual looking kits and containers. Taking out one such kit, Snape revealed suturing equipment, consisting of thread and needle and swabs soaked with local anaesthetic.
It was over an hour before Severus' work paid off and the wound was fully closed. The boy had done a good job, almost severing a muscle in his self-destructive tantrum. Having returned everything to its correct place in the box, he ordered Minky to return to her quarters for the night. Placing long, pale fingers at the boys neck, a sharp sense of relief flooded his knotted nerves as he felt a faint, but steady pulse of blood pumping through the vein. Although still unconscious, a slight hint of colour had returned to Harry's face and the blue tinge had retreated. Adjusting his position, the tall Potions Master eased a hand under the knees of his charge and carefully stood, depositing the child on the bed. Dimming the lights, he sat down heavily by the door, preparing himself for a long night.
As the night wore on, Severus' concern rapidly switched to a burning anger. How dare Potter have done something so incredibly mindless, selfish and irrational in his home. How dare he have chosen such a means to elicit attention from those around him. The years he had spent carefully burying such pitiful human emotions, only to be bought to his knees by this imbecilic boy.
Not in over seventeen years had he felt so vulnerable and it was not a feeling he relished. Even as a small part of his subconscious reminded him of the seriousness of the apparent suicide attempt, Snape's conscious mind buried all such rationality along with the accompanying emotions. As far as he was concerned, the brat had made a dramatic and foolhardy attempt at pushing Severus into a guilt trip and he was not prepared to buy into it. As a pale orange tinged the grey, early morning light outside, he formulated a new plan to ensure such an incident never occurred again.
A steady, throbbing pain in his wrist awoke Harry Potter from a mainly dreamless sleep, as he turned onto his back slowly and attempted to open eyes sticky with sleep. His head felt fuzzy and foggy all at once, as if he had been asleep for a week, and he vaguely wondered where he was as he tried to orientate himself. Clumsily feeling for his glasses, he placed them on his nose, gasping in horror as he was flooded with memories of what he had done. He was still alive. He did not know quite how to feel about that at this point in time but he was angry that once again, a choice had been whipped away from him. The irony that he had been capable of taking the lives of others, but not himself, did not escape him. Even as his features twisted in bitterness, he was startled out of his thoughts as the bed dipped down suddenly to his right. Slowly turning his head, he came face to face with Snape, who wore an expression the like of which he had not seen before.
"You have surely excelled yourself this time, Potter. Not content to fill my home with your inadequate self, you now have to resort to pure witlessness to gain attention"
Grabbing Harry's injured wrist in a vice like grip, Severus squeezed as he continued speaking, ignoring the pained whimper that escaped the boy's lips
"I assure you, this will not happen again. If you are going to act like an irresponsible, deranged idiot, you will be treated like one. All glass objects will be spelled unbreakable, all sharp items will be spelled against your touch and this will not be returned to you"
Harry sat up sharply, ignoring a wave of dizziness, as Snape held aloft the knife that had helped him through the pains of the last weeks. Without it, he would be helpless, carried along in the tide that was his emotions. Without that, he had no security remaining, nothing to turn to when the darkness once more shadowed his soul. Rolling sideways, he flung out a hand, grabbing at the weapon, even as Snape stood and stepped out of his reach.
"You bastard!", screamed Harry, as he kicked at the covers that held him in place and struggled to stand in spite of his trembling limbs. Grabbing at the chair Snape had vacated, he swung himself forwards and viciously swiped at the man, hand briefly making contact with a solid arm.
"Give it back! How dare you take everything from me! How dare you do this to me, you stinking Deatheater!"
Letting go of the chair, he stepped forwards, attempting to strike his professor, even as the man's eyes glazed over with rank fury. His wrist throbbed horribly, but the pain meant nothing beside the further control that had been taken from him. He screamed in rage as as he found his arms gripped tightly, even as a sharp, stinging slap sent his glasses a few feet across the room. Then he went silent as his anger quickly receded and the shutters came down.
Minutes passed as Severus battled to rein in his anger, lest he do something he regretted, not that he hadn't already acted in an unacceptable manner. Feeling his fingers hitting the bone of the boy's arms, he loosened his grip and stared with disgust at the totally blank face the boy now displayed. The changes in the boy's moods were becoming dangerously volatile and if the truth were told, he was unnerved. Through all his years of teaching, no experience had prepared him for this degree of dysfunction. The boy was totally out of his mind!
"Are you quite finished, Potter, or do I need to call in the men in white coats? You must be so proud of yourself. I am sure your wretched father would be so proud to see his son behaving like a raving lunatic. You have got away with your infantile behaviour for too long and it stops here"
Dragging him by an arm, Severus threw Harry back onto the bed and watched as the boy remained unmoving and rigid where he landed. Grabbing the sutured wrist, he checked the recent antics hadn't undone any of his hard work, before dropping the limb in revulsion and glaring at the boy's face. The green eyes gazed straight ahead, almost unblinking and a muscle twitched nervously in his cheek.
"I will be informing Professor Dumbledore of this incident, naturally. I am sure you will take great pleasure in his disappointment. The boy who lived is too much of a coward to face the consequences of his actions."
Harry blinded himself to the man in front of him, even as the words joined the myriad others twisting themselves through his mind, darkening the already pitch blackness that seemed to surround him like a dense cloud. He wasn't sure if it was shock or if he was maybe now truly insane, but the air around him seemed to buzz at a high pitch and his skin prickled uncomfortable. He felt almost outside of himself as Snape's voice droned on mercilessly.
"…and you will not be leaving this room until your foolishly inflicted wounds have fully healed. You are not to touch them, I will be alerted immediately if you attempt any further harm on yourself. Minky will be checking you at regular intervals as I can assure you, I have more important things to do than babysit a selfish, arrogant little boy."
Biting back the urge to add further insults, Severus turned about and strode from the room, slamming the door loudly. The heavy sound reverberated through the corridor, reminiscent of the sound one might hear in a heavily guarded prison.
Biting his lip viciously to prevent the fluid threatening to leak from his eyes, Harry pulled his legs up to his chest and rolled onto his side, tightly curled up against the world he seemed unable to escape. He hadn't expected any comfort from Snape. He didn't want comfort from anyone. He just wanted to be left alone to do as he wished but he now knew that was not to happen.
Closing his eyes, he clenched his fists as a half-repressed image came to his mind's eye. Sirius was pointing at Hogwarts, his eyes alight with barely suppressed excitement, his hand resting on Harry's shoulder warmly. Biting his lip harder, Harry chased away the memory, reminding himself that comfort was no longer a thing he deserved. As sleep overtook him, he invited the demons back in, embracing the pain he now considered his only solace.
