A/N: Hey, it's only been a little over two weeks since the last chapter! Yay for me! I'm getting better. And hopefully I'll start the next chapter today. No promises, though.
Oh, I probably should have mentioned, but you've probably figured it out already… when there's a line of dashes it's either a change of scene or just switching to another point of view.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize I do not own.
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Snape turned the page on the book he'd been reading an hour ago and as he began to read, a ghost of a smile played at his lips. If it worked it would be a temporary solution at best, but at least it was something. He continued on, scouring the pages for every last detail.
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Snape jumped slightly as the boy across the room stirred a few hours later. That was odd; the potion should not wear off until many hours later than this. Slowly Snape stood up, his bones creaking, and went to stand over the boy that had been sleeping peacefully while his professor searched for a way to cure him.
At first, Snape had thought he had found the answer in one of the books, or at least a temporary solution, but as he'd read further he realized that the complications were vast and he was not sure it was a risk he was willing to take—not yet anyways.
As he watched the young boy he saw him tense and knelt beside him; this couldn't be good. When the boy let out a gasp of pain Snape knew what he had to do; he just hoped it would be in time. He shook the boy's shoulders and called to him, "Harry!" The boy immediately opened his eyes and, though he was breathing quickly, he didn't appear to be in a lot of pain.
The boy looked up at him and smiled, "Thank you, Sir." Snape merely nodded in response.
"Apparently you were correct," he said to the boy, but he only got a confused expression in return so Snape elaborated. "You were correct about waking you up before the dream gets too far, it seems to have been effective. Are you in any pain right now?"
"No, not bad anyway. How long was I asleep? I'm still so tired it feels like I just drifted off."
"You did." Snape paused. "You have only been asleep approximately three hours." He waited as that knowledge sunk into the boy's brain.
"Wait, but—but I took the potion. It always lets me sleep much longer than that. Why wouldn't it—oh crap, does this mean the potion won't work for me any longer? But then I'll never get any sleep!" He looked dizzy at the thought of it. He looked pleadingly at his professor. "Can't you do something to make it work again?"
"I somehow doubt that the potion is in any way faulty. Your body has probably built up a resistance to it. I believe I told you at one point that this was a possibility and that—"
"But you said that wouldn't happen for a long time!"
"I said," Snape corrected him, "that hopefully it would not happen for a long time. I did not believe at first that the pain would have escalated as rapidly as it did either, but it obviously did."
"But what now?" He asked desperately.
Snape stared at the boy and considered telling him of what he had read in the past three hours. Surely the boy would agree to it out of sheer desperation, but it was incredibly risky. He decided against it and changed the subject and answered the boy's previous question, even though it was not the answer the boy had hoped for. "Now, you eat. You haven't been eating enough to feed a rabbit, let alone a growing boy." And you look awful. Snape mentally added.
"I can't eat. Nothing will stay down." The boy complained as he closed his eyes and rolled on his side, his back now to Snape.
"You have been throwing up? And you did not think to tell me this?" Snape replied harshly. How long had this been going on? Why had the idiot boy not told him? He softened his tone after seeing the boy jump slightly at his previous one. "How long has this been going on?"
Harry shrugged. "I dunno, a few weeks?"
"So it has been that long since you have had a decent meal?" A nod confirmed this. Shit, Dumbledore would kill him if he came back to find his favorite student starving to death. Besides, it probably was not helping the boy's weakness at all. Idiot boy, why hadn't he told him about this? "Come, sit up. It is time you eat." Snape stood and walked over to his desk and opened a drawer.
The boy rolled over to look at him. "Sir, I told you, I can't—"
"Your inability to sleep I cannot control," Snape interrupted, "but I can control this." He handed Harry, who had joined him by his desk, a small bottle. "It is a stomach relaxer; it should allow you to eat normally for the time being." With a wave of his wand all the books and papers moved away from the side of the desk where the boy now sat and with another wave food appeared on plates in front of him. "Drink the potion then eat. I will return shortly." While Snape did not particularly like the idea of leaving the boy alone in his office (and a few months ago he never would have dreamed of doing such a thing), he didn't want to stand there hovering, watching the boy eat. Besides, it would do him well to stretch his legs.
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Harry looked at the food in front of him, which looked nauseating. Sighing, he drank the potion from the bottle. Ironically the rotten licorice taste mixed with garlic was in itself a little nauseating. However after swallowing it the food on the desk did appear more appetizing. Harry had the suspicion that Snape had only left to give him some privacy, which he appreciated, though he was shocked at being left alone in the professor's office. On the other hand, he was too weak and exhausted to do much of anything, so maybe that's why Snape was trusting him.
He began to eat the meal in front of him, which consisted of salad, soup, and some bread, and it was probably for the best, considering his stomach had grown accustomed to not eating anything, that it was such a light meal.
When he was done eating, his stomach happy for the first time in what seemed like forever, Harry considered going back to his dormitory to take a shower. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd done so and he could still feel the tearstains on his cheeks from earlier. However he didn't want to just leave the office without letting Snape know, or without thanking him.
As if summoned by his thoughts, Snape walked into the office at that very moment. Harry quickly told him that he was going upstairs to clean up, which Snape agreed was a good idea, and as he was walking out the door he stopped. "Thank you, Sir." He said to his professor. The man merely nodded and went back to reading.
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Harry got out of the shower, feeling better than he had in a while: he was clean, fed, in little pain, and happy with the way he and Snape were getting along.
He put on some warm clothes because, despite it being summer, the castle was often cold. The dungeons were especially cold because there were no windows for sunlight to come in through and Harry figured he would go down there at some point in the near future. He sat down on his bed to put his socks on and felt himself being pulled once again into sleep. He fought against it but it was a losing battle and he was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.
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Harry woke up screaming a short time later. His body felt the familiar grinding/crushing/burning feeling that it felt every time he fell asleep. He felt a hand on his shoulder and automatically jerked away.
A familiar voice made him look up into eyes he knew he could trust. "Hey, Kiddo."
"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed. How good it was to see this man he loved.
"Come here, Harry." The older man held out his arms, but as Harry reached forward to pull his godfather into a hug, he vanished.
Harry lost his balance and nearly fell to the floor. Then he sat there, staring at the place where his godfather had been not a moment before. Had he really just imagined that? Sirius was gone, and he wasn't coming back—Harry knew that. But still… he had seemed so real. I must be going crazy. Harry thought, his mind feeling numb.
To distract himself he went to the end of his bed and started to pull his transfiguration textbook out of his trunk. As he did so his pocketknife, which had been resting on the book, fell and landed on his charms book. Harry picked it up and looked at it.
I wonder where Sirius is now. Harry thought. He's got to be somewhere better than this. I wonder if he misses me. I wish I could see him again.
You can…Another voice drifted into his thoughts, from where, Harry didn't know. But it stuck.
He could. There had to be something after this life, people couldn't just die. But where did they go. When he died, would he see Sirius again? There was no guarantee, but then while he was alive there was a guarantee that he wouldn't see Sirius.
You're thinking crazy, Harry. You have so much to live for; you can't start thinking that way. His brain battled with his emotions.
True, he had all his friends to think about. Ron and Hermione would be heartbroken if he were to leave.
They'll move on.
And he also had Dumbledore to think about, and now Snape. How would they feel after spending so much time on him- Dumbledore training him to defeat Voldemort someday, and Snape trying to keep him sane long enough to do so. He'd let the whole wizarding world down… They were all counting on him.
At that moment, another spasm went through his body, a remnant of his earlier nightmare. As his body jerked, the knife blade he'd been fingering cut a small incision into his finger. Harry thought it would hurt, but compared to the pain he'd been feeling lately, it wasn't actually that bad.
It probably wouldn't hurt that bad to make a deeper cut either. One slash of the wrist and it would all be over. You'd be free. No more pain, no more suffering. No more trying to be everybody's savior. No more… no more… no more…
Harry fingered the blade again. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad to end it. What was the point of living anyway? To live in pain for the rest of his life? There was no way he could even come close to defeating Voldemort in the state he was in. And Snape wasn't getting anywhere with the research; he would have told him if he'd found a cure. There was no hope of that. What was he supposed to do? Just keep living the way he had been for the past couple months, enduring nightly excruciating pain until eventually something killed him.
Harry wondered what would take him first: the pain driving him mad, the lack of food starving him to death, or the lack of sleep sapping out all of his energy until he could do nothing but lie there. At least this way there would be no wondering. He could be in charge of his life for once. He could control his own fate. He could be free. No more…
Harry placed the blade against his wrist and let it rest there. Could he really do this, just end it all right now?
Before he had another moment to think, the door burst open and Snape ran in, breathing heavily as if he had just run here from the dungeons.
Harry jumped back and tried to hide the knife in the folds of his comforter, which of course made him look guiltier. "Sir! I- um…"
"Give me that." Snape said, his voice cool and relatively calm, though there was an underlying anger in his tone. He held out his hand to Harry.
Shit! How the hell did Snape know what he'd been thinking? Harry decided to play innocent. "Give you what?" He asked in the most innocuous voice he could muster. At a glare from the older man Harry continued. "Oh, this?" He held up the knife. He handed it over. "Alright. Why?" Harry tried his hardest to appear genuinely confused.
"You know why, Mr. Potter."
"No, I really don't. I was just—"
"Save it, Mr. Potter!" Snape snapped. "Do not play innocent with me, I know what you were going to do." The man's fury was almost tangible.
"How could you know anything?" Harry snapped back. It wasn't possible. Snape couldn't read minds like that, could he? Shit, what if he told Dumbledore? What would Dumbledore think of him?
"Because, Mr. Potter, I am not—as you obviously believe—ignorant and stupid. I placed a charm on you (A/N: see, I didn't forget about it!) a while ago that would let me know incase you started to seriously consider that being dead would be a better alternative to living."
Shit! He did know! "But Sir, how could you have known—"
Snap sighed and when he spoke Harry noticed that his tone had softened. "You are not the only one who has felt unbearable pain before, Harry. Granted, not many, if any, have felt it to the same degree you have." He sighed again and studied Harry's face, as if deciding whether or not to continue. After a pause, he did. "I have seen many kill themselves rather than face being tortured by the Dark Lord—his victims as well as his followers. Many Death Eaters have ended their life before the Dark Lord gets to them, knowing that even if He does keep them alive, the pain they will suffer first will not be worth it. I have seen parents kill their children when He enters their home so that they may go in peace rather than being tortured to death. They know what their children would go through at His hands." The calm way in which Snape said all this creeped Harry out.
"But how could they kill their own kids?" Harry asked, unable to fathom it.
Snape sighed and at first Harry didn't think he would answer, but then the man sat down on Harry's bed, met Harry's eye and spoke again. "Are you telling me that if the Dark Lord had Miss Granger or Mr. Weasley, or even young Miss Weasley, and you knew he would torture them to death and there was nothing you could do to rescue them, you would not want to at least save them from the pain, even if that meant killing them?"
"I- well, I—" He broke the eye contact. How could he answer that? What kind of question was that? What was Snape getting at anyway?
"I believe the original point I was trying to make was that I have seen people kill themselves to avoid pain before and, while you are undoubtedly much stronger than most of the Dark Lord's victims or any of his followers," He paused and waited until Harry looked up to meet his eye again, "you are still human, Harry."
"I just—" Harry tried to explain himself. "I wanted—" Harry suddenly felt ashamed at what he'd been thinking about doing and dropped his gaze again, unable to meet the man's knowing eyes.
"Harry, killing yourself is not the answer. For many of the Dark Lord's victims it may be, but not for you. They have no hope and—"
"And I do?" Harry almost yelled back at him. Was this man crazy? "I have no hope. This isn't going away and you're no closer to finding anything to help me. What's the point of living like this? I know I am supposed to defeat Voldemort someday, but I really don't think I can in this condition so I'm sorry, but I think the whole light side of the wizarding world is screwed."
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Snape sighed. He had to tell him what he had figured out. At least then the boy might think there was some hope. He had wanted to speak with Dumbledore about this idea first, but he had not yet returned and Snape didn't think they could wait any longer. The school year would begin in a matter of weeks. "There might be something I can do." He told the boy.
The boy just stared at him for a few moments. "What? What is it? Why didn't you tell me earlier?" The boy looked excited, yet angry.
"It is very risky, and there's a great chance that it will not work at all. Also, it will not fix your problem, it will merely allow your body to rejuvenate itself." The boy looked confused, so Snape continued. "Essentially I would put you into a coma-like state. During that time your body would be close to death. Your heartbeat would be minimal, as would your breathing. However during this time you would have no dreams and therefore feel no pain. It would be like a long sleep. When you would wake up you would be rested and have your energy back."
"Then let's do it!" The boy exclaimed. "How long would I be in the coma?"
Silly boy, he shouldn't agree to do anything before knowing all the facts. "It depends on your body. It would take however long until your body is rested enough to function normally. But you must understand the seriousness of this spell, Mr. Potter. It is not as simple as taking a dreamless sleep potion. There could be any number of complications. There is the chance that you would not wake up."
"What, you mean not wake up for a long time? That's okay, Hermione can take notes for me to catch up in classes." The boy's eagerness irked the professor.
"No, Mr. Potter. I mean that you might not wake up—ever. In addition to that, there's the chance that the spell could put you so close to death that you accidentally slip too far and actually die." Snape waited so the seriousness of the spell could sink in to the boy.
"I want to do it." Harry said determinedly after a brief pause.
"Harry, you must understand—"
"I know, Sir. I know it may kill me, but I can't live like this. There's only 22 days until school starts—"
"19." The man corrected him.
"Whatever. There's 19 days left. How am I supposed to pretend that everything is all right when even standing up is a draining activity? I know the dreams won't go away, but at least I'll be stronger to fight them. Sir, I want to do this." He emphasized the last sentence and Snape knew there was no talking him out of this.
"All right. Meet me in my office this evening. The sooner, the better."
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A/N: So there it is. I had most of it written a couple days after finishing the previous chapter, but then there was school and work. But I didn't work at all this weekend, which is really weird, so I decided to write and bake. Hope you all like this chapter. Now I am starting to get to the part of the story I really want to write.
Oh, and thank you to everybody who has reviewed, it really makes my day. And special thanks FrequencyQueen. She suggested hallucinations, which is why Harry saw Sirius. If anybody else has any good ideas, I would love to try to include them!
Please review!
-PenguinLuvr