Chapter 3: Atychiphobia

A/N: So, again, I don't own ANY of this my broskis. Oh, and bonus points to whoever correctly guesses what the phobias each chapter are. Warning: This chapter does contain somewhat graphic descriptions of self injury. If reading this will be detrimental to your well being, please don't read.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat down behind his desk. In front of him sat all of his sixth year Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. students, who were silently reading the first chapter of their textbooks.

All of his sixth year N.E.W.T. students but one.

'I knew I shouldn't have let Potter go…'

He couldn't believe he had actually trusted Potter to listen to one of his superiors without a reinforcing punishment. The boy always had proved himself to be an arrogant little toerag…

'I don't understand how the Headmaster has not managed to see that the Potter brat is not the golden boy everyone treats him to be.'

Severus leaned back into his chair and rested his head lightly on his hand, observing the students in front of him. Towards the front of the class were the Granger girl and the Weasley boy. He snorted.

'No doubt his little friends are covering for him.'

But yet…

The longer he looked at the other two members of the "Golden Trio," the more he noticed that the two Gryffindors seemed rather distracted. While Severus was not surprised to see the Weasley boy glance up from his book nervously every few seconds, he found it odd that the ever studious Granger girl also did not seem to be reading the material, and often exchanged glances with her fellow Gryffindor.

'Perhaps they know where Potter is at…'

When the class period had ended and the students where packing up their things, Severus swiftly glided down to the students in question, putting on his trademark scowl.

"You two, remain here."

The Weasley boy looked as though he might have protested, but quickly fell silent at the daggers the Granger girl shot his way.

Hermione, unaffected by her professor's intimidating demeanor, spoke in an even tone of voice.

"Is there something you need from us Professor?"

Snape let his facial features relax slightly; He knew that dealing with the girl would be much easier than having to interrogate her red headed counterpart.

"Yes," he began, his voice still stern, "I wish to know if the two of you know of Potter's whereabouts and why, exactly, he found it prudent to skip my class this afternoon."

For just a moment, the bushy haired girl's eyes darted over to uneasily meet those of the boy's. Though it was a quick movement, Severus did not miss it- he never missed anything.

"Well sir, we actually haven't seen him since the first class period this morning." She paused, her eyes revealing her worry. "He just got up and ran out of Potions this morning and didn't come to any of our other classes."

Severus changed directions.

"Have you seen him over the course of the day, Mr. Weasley? In the Gryffindor common room perhaps?"

The red haired boy looked up at him indignantly.

"No, I went up after Potions to see if he was there, but our rooms were empty." He puffed out his skinny chest. "But what's it any of your business where Harry is?"

"Ronald!"

Severus raised an eyebrow at the young man in front of him, but did not grow angry. At least he was able to tell by each of their reactions that neither lied about the information they had given him.

"It is my business, Mr. Weasley, as Mr. Potter's teacher to know why he did not attend my class today. Furthermore, I suggest that you not use such a belligerent tone when speaking to one of your professors- were we in class you would have received a week's worth of detentions for your cheek. However, as I am disrupting your schedule, I will let it pass."

He watched as the boy's face and ears grew redder and redder.

Checking the time on the muggle clock hanging on the wall by his desk, he continued saying, "Now, as I have no further questions for either of you, and I'm sure neither of you wish to spend any more time with me than necessary, I suggest you both get to the Great Hall before the beginning of dinner."

Keeping her eyes cast downward, Hermione muttered a quick "Thank you sir," before steering Ron through the door of the classroom and exiting herself. Severus watched them go evenly, letting the empty of the classroom sink into him. For once, the young teacher did not know exactly what he should think. Something had been peculiar about the entire affair with the two Gryffindors, something that sent an ominous chill down the professor's spine. He couldn't explain what the feeling was, but it was something the senses he had gained as a spy would not let him ignore. And judging from his past experiences with the Potter boy and his annoyingly loyal friends, he hadn't even reached the tip of the iceberg.

Harry knelt down in one of the smallest corridors of the fourth floor and pressed his aching forehead against the cool stone of the castle's walls. He hadn't gone back to the Tower as he had originally planned to, instead wandering around the castle's many halls and floors for hours on end. He didn't quite know what he was doing.

He laughed to himself. What a mundane thing to think. Did he ever know what he was doing? Harry rolled over so that he sat with his back against the wall, leaned into the hard stone and closed his weary eyes with a calming exhale.

When he really thought about it, it seemed as though he never knew exactly what was going on, with anything that he did. After fighting Voldemort four times, Harry still did not know of any way that he could defeat him. Each encounter with the dark wizard had resulted with him scrambling to dodge blows and frantically trying save his own life and the lives of those around him. He never had any sort of plan, and even after each battle Harry felt as if he had missed something in their encounter, something he should have picked up on. It was like trying to grasp at smoke, or completing a puzzle only to find that there was a piece missing that couldn't be found. And while Harry knew that the feeling was irrational, he couldn't help but feel as though it was his own fault. He wasn't smart enough to find Voldemort's fatal flaw, and definitely wasn't strong enough to beat him in an offensive attack against the wizard.

But wasn't he supposed to be?

Wasn't he supposed to be the Wizarding world's only hope? He HAD to be strong enough and smart enough- if he wasn't, his friends would die.

'Like Sirius…'

But how could he save the Wizarding world when he couldn't even manage his own life? Harry knew that he was certainly no physical, emotional, or social super hero. He thought of Cho and the disaster their relationship had turned out to be the previous year. He couldn't even manage to keep her happy, and she had ended up miserable.

'At least you're good at being a depressing spoil sport,' he thought morosely.

With a shift, his thoughts turned to Ginny. He wasn't sure why, but over the last few months he had begun to think of Ginny more and more frequently. He supposed it was because she had played such a large role in helping with Dumbledore's Army and the battle at the Department of Mysteries, added to the fact that she was his best mate's sister. But that didn't explain why he thought of her crisp, cheerful laugh, or the way her long, red hair would swish behind her as she walked. The way his heart seemed to feel lighter whenever she called his name…

No.

He wouldn't allow this for himself. Besides the fact that he knew Ginny was dating Dean, he couldn't bear the thought of making her as miserable as he had made Cho. She was too pure, too much a part of his life already, and he couldn't spoil her happiness. He knew that while she would always be his friend, he couldn't provide for her what she needed in a romantic companion; He just wasn't good enough.

The thought pressed itself into his already pounding forehead.

'Not good enough.'

All his evidence seemed to be pointing to that conclusion, wasn't it?

'Not good enough.

Absentmindedly his hand once again drew out the small knife in his pocket.

'Not good enough.'

And even if that wasn't what all his evidence pointed to, what did it matter? It wasn't as if all of these things could lead to anything good.

'Not good enough.'

He needed this to stop. Everything around him seemed to be moving at break neck speed, and he wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep up. He rolled up his right pants leg. It was already hard to breathe…

'Not good enough.'

His breathing became labored, like something was cutting off his airways. He couldn't do anything, not a damned thing. He was going to die. Voldemort was going to kill him.

'Neither can live while the other survives.'

And even if he did manage to escape alive, what would happen then? Would he live the rest of his life scarred and alone? Once he defeated Voldemort would anyone care about his existence?

'Make it stop...make it stop…please…'

The spinning was unbearable. The knife settled over his skinny shin bone, his hand shaking. Everything was blurry despite the fact that nothing was moving…

'Do it.'

And just like that the colors around him became bright, a rush of oxygen filled his lungs, and the spinning that flew through his mind came to a screeching halt.

Harry watched intently as his long fingers dug the blade deeper and deeper into his flesh with each continuing stroke, and it was with sick satisfaction that he felt his heart slow as he focused on each time the skin on his leg would split open wide, the blood pooling over each angry red line.

Feeling somewhat exhausted, Harry stopped and crumpled into a relaxed slump against the wall. He would be okay. He was back in control. Everything was alright now.

At least, that's what he was determined to convince himself of.

Recomposing himself, Harry sat back up to survey his damaged leg. He grimaced.

In his frenzy he had made about eight cuts on his shin, each of which being about two to three inches long and deep enough that he could see his red and white sinew. While he didn't think that they wounds were deep enough to need stitches (or whatever the magical equivalency was, he didn't know), the blood that quickly covered his leg and dripped on the floor was enough to scare him a little. He needed something to wrap up his leg in.

Remembering the T-shirt he had used to wrap his hand in, Harry plunged into his bag. Not wanting to elicit any questions from either Ron or Hermione, he had taken it off before leaving the Gryffindor common room and stuffed it in amongst his school supplies. But now, for the second time that day, he was going to use it as a bandage.

After casting a quick Tergeo on the shirt and wiping off the blood that had run down his leg with the inside of his robe, Harry ripped the old article of clothing to make one, long strip and wound it around his shin, tying it off in a tight knot. He surveyed his work.

Running his hand over the layers, he thought, 'That looks like it'll hold.' And with that, he rolled his pant leg back down and cast Evanesco on the floor, effectively cleaning the stone of the violent red that had pooled there only minutes before.

"Thank Merlin for cleaning charms," Harry muttered half-heartedly. As in response, Harry heard the great clock that sat in the middle of the castle chime through the halls, signaling both the hour and the beginning of dinner. He sighed. He knew that his actions in Potions that morning would be the cause of many uncomfortable questions from his friends at dinner, but he also knew that skipping the meal would cause many more questions.

But as Harry rose to stand, a searing pain shot through his injured leg, causing his knees to buckle under him. He hissed, reeling at the pain, and roughly sat back down in his former position. Pulling his wand back out from his bag, Harry tapped his leg, casting an Episkey over his injured shin. Just like when Tonks had healed his broken nose on the train only the day before, he felt a cool sensation run up his skin before being replaced with a dull heat.

He pulled up the leg of his pants. A far as he could tell, the bleeding that had already soaked through his makeshift bandage began to slow considerably.

'That ought to do it.'

And with that, Harry stood shakily and began his trek to the Great Hall.

"Harry! Where on earth have you been?"

Severus looked up evenly from over the top of his steaming cup of tea towards the shriek that came from Gryffindor table.

Dinner had passed with no sign of his least favorite Gryffindor, and Severus had begun to wonder if he should go and find the boy himself. And oh, would he love to be the one to find Potter after the boy had skipped all of his afternoon classes and two meals.

But just as he was about to clear away his empty and untouched plate and finish draining his tea, what he recognized as Granger's shrill voice floated over the other various conversations that were going on in the vast dining hall.

"Harry! Where on earth have you been?"

Scanning up the table rows, Severus' eyes eventually landed upon an untidy mop of black hair that was being tackled by an even untidier bush of brown hair. So it seemed that the Potter brat had decided to show up after all. Setting down his tea, the Potions Master remained still in his seat at the staff table, blankly observing the three friends' movements to see if he could possibly follow their conversation.

He watched as the girl let go of her hold on Potter and replaced her arms to her hips, taking on an accosting stance.

For a moment, the action reminded Severus of the same stance Lily had taken in front of him so many years ago…

But that was the past.

The trio sat back down at their table, and something caught Severus' eye as he watched the Granger girl piling food unto Potter's plate and the Weasley boy pouring generous amounts of pumpkin juice into his goblet. Perhaps it was just the distance and dim lighting of the Hall, but it almost looked to Severus like Potter was grimacing with each spoonful of food that was heaped onto his plate. But yet, the closer he scrutinized the boy's face, the more it seemed like he was staring longingly at the quantities that had been placed before him.

'So why isn't he eating? He's certainly thin enough to be hungry…'

And then something most peculiar happened.

Potter was stuffing intermittent forkfuls of food into a napkin beneath the table. In fact, he did it so often when his friends were distracted talking to one another that more than half of the food on his plate had been shoved into several napkins.

With another chime of the clock signaling dinner to be at its end, the students of Hogwarts rose from their seats and dispersed amongst themselves to their various nighttime activities.

All of the students with the exception of Potter.

From what he could see, the boy, who remained sitting at his house table, was smiling and waving off his two friends, who gave him uneasy looks as they eventually consented and left at the tail end of the wave of students leaving the hall.

Severus stood up, falling back into the shadowed arcs near the side walls. He was going to find out exactly why Potter was acting so strangely.

Harry got up from his seat, exhaling slowly.

He had felt guilty about sending Ron and Hermione away from him, especially after their reactions when he had finally shown up at dinner. But as much as he had wanted to accompany his friends back to the common room, he felt that it would be best to make the trip back by himself- his stomach felt swollen and tumultuous, and Harry had the unpleasant feeling that he might have to make an emergency stop on the way up to the tower.

Exiting the Great Hall, Harry was happy to find that the corridors seemed to be, for the most part, void of other students. If he needed to run to the nearest bathroom, he would most certainly be able to make it without any blockages or people staring at him. Harry approached the first set of staircases.

"And where, Mr. Potter, do you think you are going?"

Harry froze and felt his stomach muscles give a violent lurch as the hand of his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor clamped onto his shoulder.

Under the guidance of the older man's sturdy grasp, Harry turned around to face him.

Wherein he promptly vomited all over the front of Severus Snape.

A/N: Please review and tell me what sucked and what you liked! :3