Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, no matter how much I wish I did.

Chapter Twenty: Therapy

Snape took the long way to his office, past Quirril's classroom. Caddagon had seen Harry leaving, and in a hurry, so it was probable that he had been frightened away by the two-faced coward. That would make Snape's job of keeping the two separated easier.

He didn't see Harry through the upper levels of the Castle, and rushed off to the Dungeons. He spotted Draco and Theodor leaving the Great Hall and stopped them.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Nott, have you seen Mr. Potter?" he asked them. Something like fear must have registered on his face, because the boys looked taken aback and fearful themselves. He composed himself better, and tried his best to look expectant.

"No, sir, not since he said he was going to see what you needed," answered a frightened looking Nott. "Did he not show up?"

"No, but it's of no concern," said Snape calmly. "I was just wondering. Enjoy your day."

He about faced and strode away, cloak billowing out behind him. Draco and Theodor shared a quick look.

Harry sat in the Common Room, staring at the fire. Despite the very rare warm day they had experienced, especially this close to Halloween, it was still freezing cold in the Dungeons. Harry's breath rose out of his mouth in great foggy clouds that dissipated into the air.

He was the only one there, everyone else abandoning the freezing dungeon for the warmed grounds.

You could be great, you know.

The words bounced around his skull like a church bell's chime, deep and resonating, echoing the empty spaces and leaving him a little dazed.

"I don't want to be great," he said aloud

"That's all well and good, but could you please not run off like that."

Harry jumped out of his seat as though stuck with a poker. He expected...well, he didn't really expect it to be anyone. Quirril, maybe, but he didn't know the password to the Common Room. Instead he found Snape standing behind the chair.

"Sorry, sir," said Harry, putting his hand over his chest to make sure his heart was still there and not where he thought it was; somewhere in his throat.

"Don't bother," said Snape. "I believe you were looking for me?"

Harry nodded. "I went to your office, but you weren't there."

"Well, then I think now would be a good time to go, don't you?" asked Snape, quirking a brow and motioning that Harry start walking. Harry got up and walked to the door.

"Sir," he started, turning back to Snape, who stopped short behind him.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" asked Snape.

"I, um, I ran into Professor Quirrill. He seemed kind of... odd," said Harry, bowing his head to hide his blush. He didn't like speaking ill of anyone.

"I wanted to talk to you about that, as well," said Snape, giving Harry a gentle push on the back, out the door.

Once in Snape's office, both comfortably seated, Snape steepled his fingers and examined Harry over them. Harry looked away, trying to loose his Head of House's gaze.

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Potter?" asked Snape, and Harry nodded.

Snape flicked his wand, and tea began brewing itself, before pouring itself into two cups. Harry, sickeningly reminded of his brief yet unsettling time with Quirrill, let his sit.

"I'm not sure how to broach the subject, Mr. Potter," began Snape, looking highly out of his element and very awkward. "The Headmaster has asked that you and sit down every so often, and talk. He thinks it will help you to get over the... trauma of past events."

Harry chewed on his lip for a moment, and resisted pulling his knees up to his chest. It was a habit which he knew Snape despised, though he did not know why. "Sir, don't the potions... I mean, you've done so much already... Why do we," he tried to speak, but instead went back to chewing his lip.

"The potions will not help forever, Mr. Potter. They are only temporary. You will grow immune to their effects, and you will begin to speak Parsle Tongue again unless we work out some of your issues. Furthermore, I believe it would be best to hold these little meetings to help you adjust. You're obviously not fitting in very well, and I-" Snape trailed off as Harry blushed deeply.

"I-I don't mean to not fit in, sir," said Harry, looking determinedly away again.

"I didn't mean that," said Snape, trying to keep the aggravation out of his voice. The boy could be rather sensitive at times to the slightest things. Snape had lived too long as a stoic to register much empathy, though he tried. "I mean that you will find it much harder to fit in with this crowd, and I will try to help. If you let me."

Harry nodded, and for the first time, looked Snape in the eye. "How can you, though?" he asked. "You can't make them like me."

"I know, but if you ever need to talk about bullying or something of the like, I am here to listen. Now, we've spent much too much time already talking about why we should be talking. What is on your mind, Harry?"

Harry blushed again at the sound of his first name, and chewed his lip some more. He thought about what to say for a few minutes, which passed by in total silence. Snape was about to prompt him, when he opened his mouth.

"I asked the sorting hat to put me where I could to the best. Do the most good. Why did I come here, if everyone is against me?"

Snape was a bit taken aback by the rational thought, and realized that this would be far closer to the heart than he had expected. He nearly found himself feeling in over his head before remembering that he'd spied on the most dangerous man of the later half of the century for the better part of a year.

"Sometimes," said Snape with all the caution of walking on egg shells, "Adversity can bring out the best in us." He hated to paraphrase the old man, but it was true.

For a long time, Harry sat motionless and silent. His bottle green eyes steadied and counting the knot-marks in Snape's desk. When he spoke, his voice was apprehensive.

"What do you do?"

Snape studied the boy in front of him, not understanding. "What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his head forward.

"You're always so calm, nothing ever gets to you." His voice raised slightly, and he hunched over, clenching his fists on his knees. "Why can't I be like you?" his asked, nearly shouting.

Snape calmly stood up and walked around his desk. He knelled in front of Harry and set his hands on his shoulders. "Harry, please calm down." His voice was gentle, but there was no room for argument.

Harry relaxed, but he didn't look up. "I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't be," said Snape, shaking his head. "I see a lot of your father in you, Harry," he said like swallowing a pickling potion. "A need to be important." He didn't want to say what he thought, which was a need to show off. "For everyone, that's a different need."

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked, finally looking up. His cheeks were wet with tears.

"I mean that saving people makes Healers feel important. Making people smarter makes professors feel important. What makes you feel important?"

Harry shrugged. "When I was at Cole's, I guess I felt important when I was helping out. You know, cooking and taking care of the younger kids."

"Helping the adults," surmised Snape, and Harry nodded. "Then you feel important when you feel grown up, right?" Harry shrugged and nodded again.

"Yeah, I guess."

Snape stood up, and motioned for Harry to stand as well. "I think we should go see the headmaster."

AN: So very very sorry about the late update. I know it's been months, but real life has been hellish lately. Updates should come sooner after this, and again, I apologize for being so late. Keep on livin' la vida loca folks.