Internal Tension
Thursday came swiftly. Harry was on edge all day, but he tried his best not to show it. Today would be the day when Omi would come and see if he recognized the type of magic Neville used during his Earth elemental lesson with Rowena Castle. Neville had no idea he was going to be watched. Harry had almost told him, but thought better of it. He didn't want his brother's hopes to be raised just for Omi to say he didn't know Neville's magic and couldn't help.
"Potter! Will you pay attention!" McGonagall snapped.
Harry jumped and smiled, "Sorry, Professor." He diligently tore his attention and eyes from a pale and empty-eyed Neville and returned to trying to change his guinea fowl into a guinea pig.
"No matter," McGonagall sniffed. Her stern continence and tight silver bun made her looked like some kind of bird of prey. It was hard to believe that her Animagus form was a cat. "Everyone turn in what you have done and return to your seats. Your homework is to describe, with examples, the ways in which Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches."
The class of Gryffindor fourth years rushed to do as she said. All ten of them managed to be in their seats in three minutes, looking up at her expectantly. They knew that whenever McGonagall stopped her class early it was because she had an announcement to make. Her tight-lipped mouth quirked slightly before they thinned into a stern line once again.
"The Yule Ball is approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish. Dress robes will be worn and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall.
"Now then," McGonagall looked around at the class, staring particularly hard at the giggling Lavender and Parvati. "The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to -" she sneered with disapproval "- let our hair down. But that does NOT mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."
The bell rang and immediately the class burst into noisy discussion about the announcement. Harry packed up his things and was about to follow everyone out when he heard McGonagall call him to the front. He frowned. He had come to understand that being asked to stay behind by a professor was never a good thing. He fought against the current of the class and agilely made his way to his teacher's desk.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Potter, the Champions and their partners…"
"What partners?" he interrupted sharply. McGonagall peered at him suspiciously and Harry began to scowl. Why was she looking at him as if he were stupid?
"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partners."
Why does she keep calling us Potter? Silas hissed in irritation. She's our Head of House. You'd think she'd use 'Harry' just for appearance sake.
Harry ignored him, staring at his teacher in disbelief. He had realized that some people would ask their love interest to the ball, but he hadn't thought it would be mandatory. And he had to have a dance partner? He didn't even know how to dance and didn't have anyone he wanted to invite. The ball had sounded like fun, but now he was wondering if it would be worth the trouble.
They just want to make a spectacle of us. Have a good picture of the Boy-Who-Lived and Champion dancing around at some ball. It's all for publicity, Silas growled.
As if to prove Silas right, McGonagall went on saying, "Traditionally, the Champions and their partners open the ball. You are one of Hogwarts Champions, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter."
Harry glared, "I'm not opening the ball. You're right. We do have two Champions, so Cedric can uphold that aspect of the Tournament. I'm in this thing against my will. I will not participate like some trained monkey. You're lucky I'm going at all."
"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall's voice lashed out like a whip. "Do not take that tone with me. It is unfortunate things have progressed the way they have, but you must fulfill your role. Or we cannot have the ball at all."
"Bullocks!" Harry gasped, shocked at the lengths they would go to just to get him to do what they wanted. He knew very well how much everyone was looking forward to the ball. They'd be pissed with him if he got it canceled.
"I am certainly not joking, Potter," McGonagall glared. "Will you open the ball or not?"
"Fine," Harry growled and stormed from the room.
I don't see why you care about everyone else, Silas sighed. Just refuse and let them cancel the stupid thing.
No, Sy.
I hate to point this out, but we don't know how to dance, Silas snapped.
Then I guess I'll just have to get lessons, Harry grinned.
What are you planning?
You'll see.
xXxXxXx
Harry really hated opening his empathy when he was at school. The castle was full of about one thousand hormonal teenagers and when he opened his empathy it was always a bit like walking into a hurricane that has no eye. But he really wanted to monitor his brother while he was practicing. So he crept down the corridor that led to the courtyard that Neville worked in and released his impenetrable Occlumency shields.
He was immediately distracted by the waves of excitement, nervous fear, depression, and other such emotions swirling around his back, below feet, and above his head. Wrinkling his brow in deep concentration, Harry focused solely in front of him. It was strange. He couldn't really sense Neville. All he could feel was a deep awareness, slow and vast and massive. Neville must have tapped into the Earth already.
For three hours, Harry stood there waiting. Eventually the oppressive weight of alien coconsciousness began to peel away. Slowly, the emotions that had the distinct feel of Neville began to surface like bubbles rising in an ocean. Harry was damp with sweat and he scrubbed at his face with both hands, his green eyes still looking past the door standing in front of him.
Panicked confusion and reluctance rose sharply from his brother. Harry could literally feel him groping emotionally for something to hold on to. It was horrible and frightening. Terror ripped and tore, and Harry felt the total lack of understanding and lack of identity crash through him. Slowly, like collecting glass shards in your cupped hands, slowly scooping them up and pulling them toward you, Neville's emotions tipped and stabilized and shrank as awareness and identity slowly settled in. Closterphobia and helplessness rose up and choked both teenagers.
Harry couldn't take anymore and slowly closed his mind. It was harder than ever before, and if it weren't for Silas he would never have made it. He became aware that he was on his knees, sobbing and clinging to the door. He could hardly get his breath and fear was still sending his hear rocketing against his chest. Sweat dripped from his nose and chin, mixed with his tears. He was completely blown away by what he had experienced. He buried his face against his knees as he realized that Neville had endured this torment every week without anyone understanding or knowing.
Silas tugged gently and Harry fell back into comfortable darkness and sleep. He stood and walked quickly down the corridor. He didn't think Neville would appreciate company right now. He slipped into an unused room and called softly for Omi. After a long second, there was a crack and Severus' elf appeared. His blue eyes were filled with tears and he was twisting his ears. It was a common mannerism for a house-elf, but Silas had never seen Omi do so.
"Did you recognize Neville's magic?"
"Oh, yes, sir," Omi nodded tearfully. "I know that type of magic. I think I can be finding a good teacher for young Neville sir. Poor young Neville does not know how to balance his magic, sir. It be drowning him and he be letting it."
"When do you think you can have a teacher here?" Silas asked impatiently.
"Soon, sir. I go now!" Omi disappeared with a crack.
"Did you hear that?" Silas asked the wall.
"I did," Rowena appeared in his line of sight.
"Does that mean we won't be doing the summoning?" Salazar asked. He appeared behind Silas, forcing the teenager to turn to face him.
Silas glared with dislike, "Only if the teacher Omi finds works."
"We'll continue preparing then," Godric said as he formed next to Salazar. His face was as serious as usual. "The spirit summoning will be ready on the Winter Solstice."
Silas nodded and left them. He made his way toward Severus' quarters, knowing he and Lupin would want to know the news. He strode down the hall with a deep frown. He was not pleased by Harry falling apart. Neville's condition was worsening and they would have to move fast now. By the way Harry reacted, Silas wasn't even sure Neville would be around for the Solstice if things continued the way they were.
xXxXxXx
Harry went to CoMC Friday feeling tired, but his shields were up and he was relatively alone in his head. Silas was small and broody, but Harry knew he wasn't asleep. He grinned to himself. He was glad. He didn't want his alter to miss what he was about to do. Neville was withdrawn and pale, so the teen didn't really realize when Harry fell behind the rest of the Gryffindors. Hermione and Ron noticed, but Harry waved them on. They gave him curious looks, but obediently left him.
The Slytherins were just coming up from the dungeon. Harry spotted the white hair of Draco Malfoy toward the front of the group and stepped back into the shadows around the doors. When Draco was only a few feet from him, he cast a spell that snagged the attention of the victim. Gray eyes locked on his and he beckoned the blonde over toward him.
"I left my gloves and there's no way I'm handling those monsters without them," Draco sneered to his group. "Go on. I'll be there shortly."
Crabbe and Goyle frowned, but eventually wandered away with the rest of the fourth year Slytherins. Draco waited until he was certain none of them were coming back and made his way into the shadows where Harry was waiting. The Gryffindor gave him a wide grin and Draco curled his lip in disdain.
"What do you want, Potter?"
Harry. What are you doing? Silas asked in a clipped, cold voice.
Harry's grin got wider, "Morning, Draco!"
Harry!
Draco lifted an eyebrow.
"You know the Yule Ball? Well, I was just wondering if you could do me a favor?"
"Are you asking me to the ball?" Draco's mouth had fallen open and his eyes were as large as saucers.
Harry laughed, Silas hissed furiously, and Draco flushed with mortification. "No!" Harry reassured. "I just wanted to know if you knew how to dance and if you could teach me. McGonagall said since I was a Champion I had to open the thing, and I don't know what I'm doing."
"That's no surprise," Draco sneered, still flushed with embarrassment. "Of course I know how to dance, Potter. I was not raised without culture, unlike you."
What the hell do you think you're doing? Silas roared.
Look, you're mad if you think I couldn't figure this out. I know Draco is your friend, I know he's Serpentine, and I think he's the best choice to teach us to dance.
No, he's not. You could have asked any Pureblooded Gryffindor or even Severus himself. You're just doing this to piss me off.
That's not true, Harry flushed. Aware that Silas was honestly upset. He had never heard his alter speak like this before. He almost sounded hurt. I admit I could ask someone else, but Draco can teach us and I wanted to prove it to you that I don't mind you two being friends.
"Harry?" Draco waved his hand in front of the Gryffindor's face. "Are you listening to me?"
"What?"
"I said, I'd teach you. Sunday morning. Empty classroom by Potions?"
"Oh, yeah, sure," Harry smiled. "Thanks, Draco."
"If I get a detention because I'm late to class, I'm sicking a skrewt on you," the blonde grumbled and made his way out to Hagrid's hut.
Sy? There was no answer. Silas? I'm sorry. I thought…
I know what you thought. There was a pause and when Silas spoke again his voice was even and emotionless. Forget about it. Let's just go to class.
I can cancel if you want.
No. It's fine.
I'm sorry, Sy.
Harry. Shut up.
Harry didn't say anything else and dragged his feet through the snow and went to class. He apologized to Hagrid for being late, but the half-giant only waved merrily. He worked in silence. Ron and Hermione shot him curious glances, but didn't ask what was wrong. Neville was deep inside himself still and didn't even notice his tension. He hadn't meant to make Silas upset. He didn't even know why his alter was mad.
"How was your interview, Hagrid?" he asked just to think of something else.
"She didn' seem very interested in magical creatures, ter tell yeh the truth. She jus' wanted me ter talk about you, 'arry. Well, I told her we'd been friends since I went ter fetch yeh from the Dursleys. 'Never had to tell him off in four years?' she said. I told her no, an' she didn' seem happy at all. Yeh'd think she wanted me to say yeh were horrible, 'arry."
"Of course she did," Hermione scowled as she threw lumps of dragon liver into a large metal bowl. "She probably blames Harry for getting her kicked out of the castle and she's even madder that he gave his interview to Silverwood."
"She wants to damage Harry, Hagrid," Ron agreed with a glare at the bloody knife he was using. "You're supposed to say Harry's a mad delinquent!"
Hagrid was shocked and angry when he realized the true purpose behind Skeeter's interview. He promised the next time he saw her, he would giver her a piece of his mind. Harry felt warmed by his friend's concern and defense. And he was glad Ron was on his side again, as well as Hermione and Hagrid. If only Neville would be okay and Silas would forgive him, things would be perfect.
xXxXxXx
"Potter."
Harry looked up from his dinner plate and saw that McGonagall was standing behind him. "Yes, Ma'am?"
"The Headmaster would like to see you in his office after you are finished eating."
"Yes, Ma'am," Harry sighed and McGonagall returned to the head table.
"What do you think that's about?" Neville asked with bruised eyes. But at least he was aware and talking now.
"Probably another lesson," Harry scowled at his plate and viciously speared a potato.
"What kind of lesson?" Ron frowned.
"You never did tell us what he wanted after the First Task," Hermione added.
Harry had told Neville and Severus about the Pensieve lessons with Dumbledore after Silas had explained it to him, but had never gotten around to telling his friends. He sighed and ran a hand through his messy dark hair. "I'll tell you tomorrow," he promised.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, but must have been satisfied with what she saw for she nodded and went back to her dinner. Ron looked more worried than ever before. Harry smiled reassuringly at him. The redhead sighed and went back to dinner, too. Neville smiled weakly and Harry returned the gesture before standing. He might as well get this over with.
xXxXxXx
"You wished to see me?" Silas drawled as he climbed passed the gargoyle.
"Silas?" Dumbledore frowned.
"I figured you would want to talk to me. Was I wrong?"
"No, no, my boy. Have a seat." The old man gestured at the seat across from him and Silas took it reluctantly. Dumbledore smiled out of his white beard and his blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses. His robes were less offensive than usual. A relatively mild yellow color with white cats and dogs running around on them. "How are you, my boy?"
"Well," Silas answered shortly, his face blank and expressionless.
"Very good." Dumbledore's smile kicked up a notch. "And have you begun to explore the golden egg?"
"Not yet," Silas drawled lazily and stared at his nails. It was a posture he had picked up from Draco.
"Well, you have until the end of February. I wouldn't be concerned."
Silas didn't answer that inane comment and just stared at the headmaster patiently.
The old man chuckled, "Straight to business then. I have a memory I'd like you to view. I'm sorry we haven't met sooner, but I've been a bit busy lately."
Silas bowed his head and lowered his face into the swirling liquid. He was sucked into a memory of Voldemort coming and asking for the DADA job. It was refused him. Silas wondered if he had been allowed employment at Hogwarts, would Voldemort continued on to become a Dark Lord? Sure, he was Dark even then, but he didn't seem like he wanted to rule the world, yet. There was still a chance to turn his inclinations and bitterness to something more cheerful.
"Was he qualified for the position?" Silas asked casually when they returned from the memory.
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore frowned.
"I was just wondering if he became qualified and then asked for the job, or if he didn't bother and instead relied on intimidation," Silas answered smoothly.
Dumbledore relaxed and smiled, "Yes, well, Voldemort was indeed qualified. He wasn't quite up to scare tactics at this point in time. His position wasn't yet strong enough."
"I see." Silas wondered how blind Dumbledore could be. About both him and Tom Riddle. How could the man mistake Silas' hatred, how could the man condemn Tom because of unproven suspicions. Dumbledore still thought himself a hero, though. He saw himself as the ultimate guardian of Light. The second Merlin. Silas wished to hex him dead with all his heart. And he promised himself when his position was strong enough, he would.
"Do you have any further questions?" Dumbledore asked.
"No," Silas shook his head.
"I believe that the reason Voldemort wanted the position was to be closer to the Chamber of Secrets. Now that you have discovered that it was Voldemort who had opened it fifty years ago, it seems likely that was his goal even back then."
"Maybe I should explore and see if there was anything left behind," Silas smiled sweetly.
The look was distinctly chilling on Silas' face and Dumbledore frowned, "I would not recommend it at this time. There could be devastating traps and I do not wish you to get hurt. Besides, you have the Second Task to prepare for."
Silas nodded, smirking inside. If only the old man knew he went down there every week with Draco Malfoy. He bet the fool would have a heart attack. Dangerous, indeed. Dumbledore just didn't want Silas down there until he could find a way in and take out anything valuable first. Good thing Silas didn't give a shit what Dumbledore wanted and was already harvesting the treasures in the Chamber.
xXxXxXx
He walked into the teacher's office, anticipation rising in his blood. Smiling through lowered eye lashes at the man next to him, he swayed his hips as he was led forward and toward the desk. One flick of the man's wand and the surface was wiped clean. He knew his part and jumped up, sitting on it as the man watched with bright hungry eyes. He smiled, thrilling at the power and knowing the best was still to come. He leaned forward suggestively, slowly spreading his legs, his robes parting and pooling around him. The man's breath quickened and he licked his lips, eyes burning now.
"Did you want to play?" he asked huskily, slowly tilting his head back and licking his lips teasingly.
"Merlin, you're beautiful," the man rasped. He stepped closer and with trembling hands slowly slid his robes from his shoulders.
Silas tilted his head back, eyes closed in pleasure as he felt the gentle tugs of his shirt's buttons being undone. The cool air brushed across his collar bone, his shoulders, then his chest and stomach as his shirt was slipped from him. Warm, moist hands pressed against his chest, slid up and over his shoulders, sending warm jolts down his spine. Then there was an even hotter mouth at his neck, sucking and it felt so good. He gasped, a low moan pulling from his lips.
"I want you. Merlin, I want to take you right here. I want to bend you over this desk and make you mine forever. Would you like that, Kitten? Do you want me to fuck you blind?"
"Feels so good." Silas opened green eyes, not caring about the words, focused solely on the sensations trailing over his skin as those hands removed his pants and stroked him, sending fireworks through his nerves. He sighed and lay back, sprawling naked on the desk. Lockhart traced his body and it tickled, making Silas laugh.
"You're so beautiful," Lockhart groaned and brought their mouths together.
Silas lay passive as the man did wonderful things with his tongue. He never knew his mouth could feel like that. Then the man was rutting against him, still fully dressed. Their bodies were pressed together, Silas was pinned to the desk by the man's bulk and weight. The friction was almost painful. He turned his head, breaking the kiss and pouted. "Make it feel good," he ordered.
Lockhart moaned and got off, "Say you want me."
"Want you," Silas tossed his head impatiently, spreading his legs invitingly.
"Say you need me," Lockhart rasped, panting with lust.
"Need you. Want you."
"Merlin, Kitten." Lockhart knelt and licked at the sensitive flesh offered to him, pumping himself desperately.
Silas gasped and cried out, arching with a big grin on his face.
"NO!" Silas sat up in bed, gasping in horror. He rolled and dry heaved, curled over the side of the bed, retching miserably. His heart pounded in horror as the dream-memory lingered in his mind.
He was shaking violently as terror, shame, and hate boiled up from his gut and made the room sway dangerously in his eyes. Demon's chilling laughter trailed into his room and he gasped, fighting for control. Gentle sobs reached his ears, he hadn't heard it over his own desperate noises, but now that he was trying to calm himself, it was unmistakable. And it was coming from within his room. He sat up, covered in sweat and his eyes desperate. He was shocked at what he saw.
Boy crouched at the end of the bed. His naked and heavily scarred body trembled. His matted brown hair was limp with oil and dried blood. His dark eyes, eyes so much like Severus', were looking fearfully at the emerald bedspread as his hands twisted nervously in it. He was weeping. The sound was full of hurt, but it wasn't like his normal crying. He didn't sound as terrified or as if he were in pain. The starved, abused toddler only sounded lost.
Slowly, the sweat dried on Silas' skin and his panic receded as concern for Boy pushed back his memories. He wasn't sure what to do. Touching the tortured alter wasn't the answer, and Silas wasn't so fond of physical contact in any case. But the child was here for something and he had to try to comfort him.
"It's alright," he said gently, warmly.
Boy flinched at the sound of Silas' voice, but he didn't flee or start on his mantra. He lifted his head and his eyes nervously met Silas' blue-gray before skittering away and looking over the Core alter's shoulder. "You hurt," he muttered hoarsely.
Suddenly, Silas understood and he smiled bitterly. His voice remained gentle, however, "This is my pain. It's okay for me to hurt. You don't need to take this pain."
Boy took in a shaky breath and shook his head hard. His thin arms came up and wrapped around his thin burned, cut, and scarred chest. "Boy hurts. Boy always hurts. Boy should hurt, not others."
"Pain… It belongs to everyone," Silas sighed. "Sometimes pain is necessary to warn us or to help us learn. I need this pain. It tells me that I have a wound that needs to heal. Without the pain, I wouldn't know the wound was there and it would never get better. Do you understand?"
"Hurting good?" Boy was rocking.
"Sometimes." Silas lay his head back against his headboard. He wasn't cut out for this. "But only if it serves to make you better. You… You were hurt for no other reason than to break you. You have too much pain; a type of pain that doesn't help. I am going to try and protect you from anymore of that kind of pain. And I hope one day you will be able to feel things other than pain and fear. Things like happiness, contentment, security. Like I do. Do you understand?"
"No," Boy wailed, tensing and expecting punishment for his stupidity.
Silas closed his eyes, "That's all right. I don't think I really do either. It just sounded good."
Boy lifted his head and slowly his cries stopped, "You hurt?"
"Yes, I can hurt, too." Silas lifted his head and smiled at the young child.
There was a strange expression on his face. One like wonder. Silas' smile fell away and he was amazed that Boy was meeting his eyes so steadily without flinching away. Something was going on in the alter's mind, but Silas was at a loss to understand. Suddenly, the child smiled. It was an expression he had never before worn and it looked awkward and strained, but sincere.
"Silas the same as Boy," the child said as tears rolled down his gaunt cheeks. "Silas hurt like Boy."
"I want to make it stop hurting," Silas explained.
"Boy want hurt to stop," the child admitted in a whisper. "But Boy bad. Boy deserve to hurt. Boy always hurt."
"Not anymore," Silas said firmly. "You aren't hurt anymore. And you're not bad."
Boy just stared at him. It was too much for him to understand. It was too much for him to believe. But the fact that he was willingly communicating said a lot about how much he was improving. Padfoot's therapy with him was really making a huge difference. The child curled up at the end of the bed and settled in a tight ball. His black eyes were open and staring, wary. Silas settled back and ignored him. If Boy found comfort from staying with him, he wasn't going to kick him back into the cupboard.
Eventually, the child's eyes closed and he fell into an exhausted sleep. No longer distracted, Silas' attention returned to his nightmare. He had them often now. Ever since he had let Draco in, had accepted the Slytherin as a friend, they had haunted him. He knew it was because he feared intimacy of any kind. He was terrified of being hurt and used again. By accepting Draco, he was opening himself up to pain. But at the same time, knowing Draco understood him the way no other could, not even Severus, was a strange comfort that he had been unable to resist.
Maybe Boy was discovering the same kind of comfort as he realized the others he lived with but had always been isolated from could and would feel pain, too. Still, Silas wasn't happy about his slipping self-control. He was down right angry that the mere idea of friendship sent him reeling into nightmares. He had nothing to be afraid of. Draco was not his equal. If he did make a move to hurt him, Silas would have him dead in seconds. Silas could protect himself now. He was no longer Kitten. He was strong and in control.
Except he wasn't.
Harry was now interacting with Draco. He was taking Silas' control away, involving himself in the only thing that was Silas' alone, and that sent desperate hurt through him. He hadn't expected the pain to come from Harry and had been completely caught off guard. Then he realized he must consider Harry a friend, too, for him to feel betrayed by Harry. And there was no way to defend against the Host. Silas couldn't lash out at him. He was helpless. And that terrified him.
Silas pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face against them. He wondered how this had happened. He felt like he'd snap at any moment, but he couldn't push this onto Boy. He wouldn't. The child had suffered enough. Silas wouldn't add to it. No. He had to keep the pain and fear. He had to figure out a way to live with them. He had to figure out a way to protect himself. Or he'd break, and with him all the other alters since he was their Core.
xXxXxXx
Severus opened his door worriedly, though he'd never show it. Only one person could be knocking for entrance at three thirty in the morning. Sure enough, Harry stood on the other side. He looked exhausted and was hugging himself against the cold dungeon air. Dark circles lay under his eyes and he looked up at Severus with eyes full of strain. Severus gestured him in, muttering warming spells at the boy as he passed. Harry didn't notice and that really worried him. Now that Gabriel was a part of Harry, the teen rarely ever was unaware of the people around him and was never unaware if they were casting spells.
The teen went over to his dark blue couch and stood in front of his preferred seat. Severus watched his tense back. Harry wore only his red pajamas and thick red socks. His messy hair was limp. Severus opened his mouth to say something; he needed to have Harry's attention. He wasn't sure he liked the way the teen just stood there. But before he could speak, Harry spun around and wrapped his arms around his waist.
Severus was shocked. He stood stiff, looking down at the black head of hair a few inches short of his chin. The teen was trembling faintly. Deeply worried now, Severus wrapped one arm around the teen and slowly guided him back toward the couch. He sat, pulling Harry next to him, still with one arm wrapped uncomfortably around Harry's shoulders.
"I just don't know what to do," Harry's muffled voice spoke. Even then Severus could hear the tension and unfallen tears.
"About what, Harry?" Severus asked as gently as he could.
"Everything." Harry pulled away, curling up at the end of the couch, facing Severus with desperate eyes. "It's all too much. I don't think I can handle it anymore. The Tournament, Voldemort, Neville, classes, my friends; It's all too much!"
"Breathe, Harry," Severus ordered and rose to get the teen something to drink. He spoke as he moved. "I know you are facing a great many challenges this year. You have held up remarkably well. In fact, you have faced these problems steadily before now. What is really causing you trouble?"
He handed the teen the glass of water and also offered a calming potion should Harry decide to take it. Harry didn't, but he sipped at the water. His eyes were shadowed by his hair and glasses, so Severus couldn't read them. But he had known Harry intimately for almost one and a half years. He could read the tilt of Harry's head, the set of his shoulders, the movement of his hands. Something was bothering Harry besides the list he had given. Granted the list of problems he had recited was grievous indeed and did not help, but Severus was certain he had guessed right and something more was bothering his charge. And it was something Harry did not want to tell him.
Harry was Gabriel now, however, so the teen found the strength to look up and the courage to ask for help. "It's Neville and Silas. I've been… so…" the teen stumbled awkwardly, searching for words, "afraid for my brother. And… I used my empathy to watch his last session with Rowena and the emotions… It was horrific and my brother has been enduring that without me knowing and I'm afraid we're too late and I don't want to lose him. I love him, Severus. And I'm afraid he's going to die, but I'm more upset that he's hurting. He hurts so much and it's not fair."
"I know," Severus nodded, absorbing and watching. "It is very hard to see a loved one suffer. But I have come to believe that Longbottom is stronger than we know, stronger than he knows. I believe we are not too late, Harry. Omi is searching for a teacher and even should that fail, come December 21st, Hogwarts will summon a teacher. We will not let Longbottom fall."
"I hope not. I'll do everything I can to help him. And I know you and Remus will, too. The waiting is unbearable, though." Harry smiled at that, but it was tight and didn't reach his eyes.
"Longbottom will survive." Severus suspected that his charge needed help getting to the topic he most needed to speak about, so he decided to fish a little. "What troubles you about Silas? He is a survivor, as well."
Harry crossed his arms defensively, but the anxiety spiked in his body language and through the tightening of his face. Distantly, Severus was aware of his stomach coiling in dread. Harry was keeping something from him. But he kept all this from his face. He waited patiently and was rewarded by Harry slumping with defeat, his arms coming uncrossed and instead gripping at his knees.
"I… I don't know what…" He shook his head helplessly, his green eyes begging for guidance. "I can't tell you."
"Harry…" Severus said the name carefully, his mind racing. He needed to know what Harry was hiding, but he couldn't push the teen. "Do you remember promising not to tell us Neville was suffering?"
Harry closed his eyes against something horrible. He breathed out in a thready whisper, "Yes."
"Do you remember why you broke the promise?"
"To help him." Harry was shaking now.
"Is this more of the same? Or should this secret be kept?" Severus asked evenly. He hated to see his charge suffering and the dread was building as he watched Harry's reactions.
"Before me and Gabriel merged," Harry began, "I use to talk to my alters by writing to them. I'd write something and then one of them would use my arm to write back. I have it all in my journal if you want." He looked away and fidgeted with the material at his knees. "I didn't tell you because I know you would disapprove. I'm not suppose to treat them like real people, but… But I needed them. I needed to know them. Then there came the time where I could actually hear them talking to me in my head. But that went away again when I merged with Rose…"
Severus held himself still as Harry paused. He was obviously struggling with something.
"I remember being Gabriel, just as I remember being Rose. I remember having a small space of my own in here," he said as he touched his temple. "I remember sitting in the sitting room and watching what I was doing. But mostly, I remember being able to see Silas. We worked together and… he was even opening up to me a little more. He was beginning to trust me. He allowed me to see when he was hurting and needed support, and that happened more than you'd think. I was there to watch out for him, make sure he was getting rest." Harry smiled fondly. "I love him like a brother, like I love Neville."
He sighed and buried his face against his knees. "After the merge, I could hear Silas in my head when I wanted. I know I have the power to block him, but I haven't yet. I don't want to. We talk to each other a lot, but it's not the same. When I go In, I'm sleeping. I no longer see the sitting room or Silas. I can't be there for him the way I was before. He's alone in there. I feel like I've abandoned him. I worry about him because it's not the same. He doesn't trust me to take care of him. I know he doesn't. He feels like he has to be the big brother to Harry. He has to protect the Host. But I'm Gabriel as well as Harry and I want to take care of him, but I can't. Does any of this make sense?"
"Yes," Severus inclined his head. His heart was racing and so were his thoughts.
"I feel guilty," Harry continued, still not lifting his head from his knees. "And I'm worried. I'm trying to show Sy that I care about him. That I can help him if he lets me, but… But I'm only making things worse. I can feel that he's tense. That he's drawn close to the breaking point and I… I don't know what to do to help him. I've been waking up at night, out of breathe and afraid, but it's not me having the nightmares. It's Sy. He won't talk about them. If I ask how he is, he says he's fine. He won't open up to me anymore. And I can't go in there and get in his face about it like before. And…" Harry lifted his head, tears filling his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. "And I don't know what to do to help him. I left him, Severus! I just left him in there to deal with everything alone. Now I'm Out here and I can't… I just… It's not fair! I don't care if I'm Host. I want to be able to go Inside and see him!"
Severus grieved. He had allowed himself to see only the phenomenal progress Harry had made with his mental illness. He was merging with his alters and was coming to terms with what they stood for. But Harry's mental state was still fragile. Worse, Harry was completely caught up in Silas being a different person now. And Severus had allowed that to happen.
The gulf between Harry and Silas had slowly gotten bigger and bigger as they formed a relationship like they were two different people. It was true Harry was worried about Silas, and it was likely true that Harry really did consider Silas a friend, but the foundation of his distress was based on the unconscious realization that he was alienating himself from key aspects of who he was. The farther Silas went out of reach, the less whole Harry felt. They were the same person, torn apart. Harry thought befriending the alter was going to bring them back together, but it was only making the separation more apparent.
And now they were breaking. Silas was breaking because he had no access, not even unconscious access anymore to Harry's courage and love. Harry was breaking because he no longer had Silas' knowledge, adeptness, and ingenuity to draw on. It had been okay when Silas and Gabriel had been communicating as fellow alters. They had been united as their purpose was to serve Harry. No matter how it looked or felt, they were working as a unit. Now that Gabriel was Host with Harry, they were no longer working as a unit. Their purpose had shifted.
Silas' purpose was still to serve Harry, but Harry's purpose was to live. And living meant lots of complications. He had many goals, many relationships, many purposes now, as the list of problems he had recited indicated. Living was more complex than not living, and Silas wasn't living. He had retreated and his world was wholly internal now. As complicated as that seemed, it was relatively simple compared to dealing with real life. They had no common ground any longer.
"Harry, there is a reason I asked you not to communicate in this way with your alters. As much as you think it brings you closer, you are really pushing Silas away from you."
"What do you mean?" Harry looked up at him with tired, guilty eyes.
Severus sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "Silas is you. You are Silas. He is not your brother. He is not your friend. He is the other half of your soul, so to speak. And by setting him up as someone else, you are denying him. You are denying who he is."
"I didn't mean to."
Harry was wringing his hands. His face pale and tight, and he was shaking again. This was too much for him right now. Severus reached over and insisted he drink the potion. Harry took it obediently.
"I know you didn't. Silas is at fault, as well. We can fix this. Do not worry, Harry."
"But I can't just ignore him!" Harry protested. "I can't!"
"I realize that," Severus drawled and waited for the potion to take effect before continuing. Slowly his charge's face relaxed and exhaustion set in. "I will think on this and we will find a solution. Rest, Harry."
"But Sy's hurting. I want to help him."
"I know. We will," Severus promised.
Harry's eyes went dull, still staring at him. Severus suspected that he needed the comfort of knowing he was with him. He sat still and leant his presence as Harry needed. He wished Lupin was here. He'd coddle the teen and be done with it. But Harry had come to him and he had to do his best. Harry's eyes fluttered and then closed, but even then not all his muscles relaxed. Severus watched him for a moment more. Then he summoned a blanket and draped it over the sleeping teen. He was uncertain as to what would be best, but he was confident that they would get through this. They had come too far to fall now. Determined and grim, Severus stood and strode over to his office. He had research to do.
Chapter end.
A/N: Thanks for the idea to have Silas and Boy interact, you know who you are! That was a great idea and I had a lot of fun with it!