[A/N} I was not prepared to get loads of mails from . Imagine my shock, to check my mail and see mail from fanfiction, unread, and totally foreign for me. It was my friend that uploaded this story without my knowledge. I think she was tired of me never finish a story, and now found a way to make me finish what I've started. Very well.

Thank you for reviews, it helped me stop shaking from my shock. After first giving me it, that is. Please do not feel offended when I do not answer. If I feel something is in particular need to answer, I will see that it is. However, if you have any questions, do let me know.

I did not intend to give the rapist a big role, as such things do happen and it can be just a random, desperate person on the street. However, after some thoughts, I got this little witty idea and intend to fulfill it. I do think it will be some eyebrows to the hairline, though. However, this person will not be introduced before later when Harry is back to the school, which I still am rather unsure whether he should attend it after this occurrence.

Disclaimers and warnings are on my profile.. I believe. I do not encourage rape, abuse, self-harm or violence in any kind. Do not expect me to say this in each chapter. I rated this as "M" for a reason.
Do inform me if I have some particular repeating grammar error, so that I can see it will not repeat further on. I speak Swedish usually. I learned to read English rather fluently just during this summer. I have read books in English before, but during this summer I read a whole lots of fanfictions.

I have made this chapter more informing rather than angsty, as it needs to grow on this. Feel free to criticize me and help me improve my writing technique. Now, I usually skip this part of chit-chat, and I believe most of you also did it. If you read it all, you have my heart. Not literally, since should that ever happen, I would be rather dead. Not that I complain death, I just like living.

Art of Suicide
Chapter II: Snowstorm Burning

"Vernon Reginald Dursley!"

The front door slammed shut and in strode a very fuming Petunia. She quickly gave the wished baguette to her son and asked him to stay on his room until she was done with her husband, whom, apparently, had waited for food all in vain.

When she heard the door to Dudley's room shut, she slammed her fist on the dinner table with such force she almost surprised herself. Oh, she was not angry. She was furious. Her fury made her shake in a manner Vernon had never seen before. And it scared him to no end, since he knew he had married a dangerous woman. She only went to this stage of anger when something was wrong; terribly wrong. And in this case, Vernon could swear he was the error.

"He was and still is a kid. A kid! Do you know- can you imagine- Dr Harper's gaze at me. I have never felt such humiliation before. And the boy- I- you- you disgust me to no end, Vernon."

Vernon stared at his stuttering wife. He knew he in some kind of way was doomed. Never before had she spoken to him that way and never before had she stuttered with anger. True fury made her stutter, and it was a quite terrifying experience.

He licked his lips nervously. "Now, Tunes, I see we have a little misconception here-"

"A little misconception? A little tiny, obscure, trivial misconception?", she demanded through clenched teeth. "Did he scream for you to stop it, Vernon? Did he beg you with wet cheeks? Trust me, Vernon, I tolerate much, but this is enough. Wizard or not, magical or not, you will never touch Harry James Potter again. Have I made myself clear?"

Vernon almost choked by hearing the forbidden words, especially from his own wife. The words were forbidden for the simple reason to never remind Petunia of the little inconvenience in her family. And now his wife stood there and uttered them herself. Had the boy brainwashed her?

"I have no idea what you're-"

"Don't - give me - that - shit", Petunia hissed. "No excuses, Vernon. I saw the bruises. I saw his mental state. You hurt him without me knowing! I said clear to the starvation as punishment, for I was blind by hatered when seeing Lily's eyes. I said clear to chores since someone had to do them and he seemed to enjoy it. And that was better for him than lying and do nothing. But to use the belt upon a child, Vernon. That disgusts me. Never again will I allow it within these walls. Do you hear me?"

"I never-"

"Get out, Vernon. Pack your things and leave. I don't want to be married with a- a- a monster like you. I thought you held some kind of common sense, but apparently I was wrong. Obviously, Lily was right when she said you were not to be trusted."

"It is-"

"Not your house", Petunia stated with flashing eyes. "It's my house. You will leave and I will have a divorce. Be glad I've not gone to the police. Whether Harry finds it congenial or not, time will tell.

"Look, Vernon", she started all over with a sigh by seeing her husband's refusal. "I can't find myself married to someone who has abused a child; let alone one within these walls. It's as bad as to abuse anyone else, but Harry's still family. I can't see a future to wake up in the same bed with you, and know your crimes. Either you leave, or I will and then I'll have to go to Dumbledore for protection, and that's final."

Vernon gave her one look, and it was neither hurt or sorrow; regret or remorse. It was fury, and Petunia was wise enough to understand that there never had been pure love between them. Just the need to have something to call family. And then he just walked out the door, slamming it shut. The sound was followed by another slam from the car, and she could hear the car drive away. Probably, the man was going to have a drink or two, come back just to pack his bag and then finally leave.

It would be empty in the house, and she knew it. They would have to deal with weeks-with-Dudley - in which Petunia would allow Vernon as little time as possible - and the money. She would have to get a suitable job somewhere and possibly a car, since it was Vernon's they had on the drive. And she knew Dudley would be disappointed with the fact his hopes to have a whole family now would break.

But perhaps there was a slight hope they, Petunia and Dudley, could invite Harry's second family and friends within the Magical World? Both of them would find it scary, of course, to have strangers - and magical suchlike - within the walls where once it would have been called sin by her and Vernon. Still it would hopefully help Harry recover.

A twing of discomfort attacked her chest. Would Harry recover? And what would he recover to? A scary, lonely boy, or a too soon grown up man without something to laugh at? She knew he wanted the boy to laugh and she wanted to see happiness in the hollow eyes. Lily's eyes.

It made her squirm to see her sister's eyes like that. Harry had always held emotions flashing like Lily herself, and Petunia was used to see those emotions, even though it had been so long ago. But now those emotions were replaced by something so lifesucking and souleating it ate the boy from the very inside out.

And she wanted to take the rule as aunt for once and act accordingly.

So how was she supposed to act, then? She had no idea how to contact Dumbledore, except with an owl, and she was rather afraid of owls. Though the boy's owl, that white beautiful one, seemed friendly and wise enough not to attack a human without warning - or good reasons behind.

She was rather sure, though, that she could not call Dumbledore. Did they even have phones, those wizards? She thought not, since they used owls. But she had no owl, the boy had left the white one with the redheaded family; where a few members were rather familiar from last summer's event.

She sighed, took a seat beside the table and rested her chin on her palms. How would any other aunt act? Send the boy to some kind of psychiatric ward? Would that not be dangerous? According to the last letter she had received from Dumbledore, the man - monster, madman, powerseeking fool, serial killer - who killed Lily and James Potter had resurrected before the holiday and Harry was thus in even more danger than before. The protection that was held over the wards were, apparently, strong enough to hold the man outside, according to Dumbledore's hopes.

The boy had been in fight with that madman since the first year at that school. In some way or another. He had been through so much, so why not give it a break?

But he needed his friends and she knew it. So how to proceed? Hold the boy to stay here until someone comes for him and then explain the situation? Surely they would seek for him here after the school began. And surely he was in no state to attend that school just yet.

"Oh God", she gasped and shut her eyes. "Lily, what am I supposed to do if he turns suicidal?"

{Art of Suicide}

Here I am again. In the place where no one can find me, or even bothers to try. It is the place where you go when nothing else seems safe. But I know that - even though this place is inside my head - it is not safe here. Not because of the fact I have a deranged, perturbed and mad Dark Wizard that access my memories and my actions. Really, I do not really bother that fact, as one grows - well not particulary used to the pain in the scar and the confusion, the terrified feeling you get when waking up after hearing pained screams of torture. One with a sane mind would probably never get used to that. However, it was the fact that here it is my feelings that are in control. I cannot hide when I am here, and that is what bothers me most.

There are not much in here. It is not white as it was before. It is simply dark. But not as dark as it could have been. Not the darkness where you cannot see the hand in front of you. It is as though the air has its light, but a fog of darkness holds it down.

Darkness is scary, but still it isn't. It is not the darkness where the fear lies, but the things hidden within it. Is that true? It seems not, since the darkness itself devours one's skin so tenderly and mercilessly. The darkness reminds me of the days in the cupboard with the ruthless smell of food, reeking through the door's crannies. And yet I was safe there without the belt.

But this is not the same darkness. There are no smells invading my hunger. There are neither heat nor gelidity to crawl over my skin so carefully slowly it hurts like seven hells together. I doubt there are even feelings here. Perhaps I am wrong - are there feelings in here? - but I feel so empty.

Can anyone describe it for me; this emptiness? Is it where you go when everything else hurts so much you feel like there are inner monsters, parasites, eating you from your soul to your organs, to your bones and to your skin?

Oh, look! I see Cedric's face over there, and my heart skips a beat. He smiles at me and waves his hand like he did once during the Yule Ball, to call my attention. We had different dates, of course; He had Cho Chang and I had Parvati Patil, but we danced together from time to time - though it was a problem since we both had learned to dance the male-side, and we talked to one another and just were. And that was what we were; a couple. We were. And we were a couple.

Cedric is alive. I can reach for him, but then I realize I have no arms. Where did my arms go?

He smiles at me and encourage me to approach him on the way. He seems so far away but yet so close, and I try to reach but I can't find my arms. I cannot find them and it frustrates me to no end. I want to reach out, I want to stroke his cheek and then place a light kiss on his lips. I want to tell how sorry I am for how things turned out. And I want to explain how much it hurts when he is not here. I want to explain how the nights seem so long when I lie curled upon the bed with my knees drawn to my cheek and the aching pain in my chest.

I killed him. I forced him to take the Cup with me, and even though I could not have known it was a Portkey, I killed him. I did not jump in front of the curse, I did not do anything. Simply... watched. And then screamed when Cedric did not answer my undying pleas.

I do not even cry when his face turns grim and then lifeless. I do not even cry when his body is hit by a green light so equal to my own eyes. I just try to reach out, but I still have no arms.

I try to move then. I try to move my legs, my body and I try to run to my once again dead boyfriend but I find myself drawn backwards through time and space. The memories are playing on each of my sides, as a slideshow but so fast. And yet I can clarify the faces and memories that are passing by me. There Hermione is, lecturing me about homework and there Ron asks me to play a game of chess with the huge, happy grin on his face. All my happy moments are flashing by, while the words are echoing in my ears. I try to cover them, my ears, but I have no arms and thus no hands to cover them with.

Kill the spare.

You want it! You want it! You want it!

And then the hands are covering me. They are all over my body, and Cedric shouts at me. He has never shouted at me before, but now he stands over there, alive yet again, and he shouts at me. I am so unfaithful, I never was a true boyfriend. See; I allow these hands on my body. The very body I was to give Cedric when we both were ready for it. And we were preparing for it. It was going to happen so soon. We were going to explore one another even further, just so soon. But apparently, it was not soon enough.

The hands trail down my spine and I turn around but I have nothing to turn around with. Yet, I can feel the way the fingers are invading the spots I have never allowed to anyone. I own no body, but yet I can feel it.

It is there, but it is not.

It is cold but it is hot.

And I know, I know I am burning up; it is my turn, but as I struggle I realize I have nothing left to burn.

{Art of Suicide}

"Dudley, I have something to-"

"I know you and Dad are gonna divorce."

Petunia stopped in the doorway to her son's room and frowned. Dudley showed no emotions and she did not know how to proceed from there. Would Dudley hate her for her choice? Would he be indifferent or sad? At least, she thought, he did not have to hear them fight every day for this.

"Yes, we are", she confirmed eventually and took place on her son's bed, just beside her own son. "Do you know why?" When Dudley shook his head - he had not heard why as his parents' voices had talked lower at times - Petunia placed her arm around his shoulders. "Vernon abused Harry, and I won't accept the fact he'd be here when Harry needs recovering."

She could feel the slight shock from her son and she hugged him gently with one arm. How would one react when told that his - or her - father has abused someone? Fortunately, Dudley calmed himself soon enough and looked at her with his blue eyes.

"Why did he hate Harry so much? Why did we hate him so much? I think I'll never forget the look in his eyes earlier. It was- it was as though he was dead, but something haunted him to stay. Does that make sense?"

Petunia smiled a little. "Yes, Duddikinns, it does. Some things can't be described better than wish-wash."

Dudley just nodded and leaned towards his mother. "Will he get better, Mum?"

"I don't know", Petunia sighed. "How can we help him when he needs his friends?"

"So we're going to send him away?"

"No, we aren't." She took a calming breath and ran her hand through her hair, trying to figure out the best words. "I don't want him back there. Not yet, at least. He's been in danger since he put his foot outside this house and I won't allow that danger to extend. See, he's in need for help and I want to give him the best help. He's in a bad shape now, and I guess he needs time before he can even continue his studies."

Dudley nodded again. "You know what, Mum?"

Petunia smiled and shook her head. "No, what is it, Dud?"

"You're the best Mum in the world. I really mean it, Mum! See, even if we didn't treat Harry right from the beginnng, we've seen our flaws and now we're going to help and protect him. Isn't it awesome?"

She gave him a kiss on his forehead and a pat on his cheek. "Of course we're going to help him. The worst sin is to see one's own flaws, but not do anything about it. That's what Lily said to me way back."

Dudley frowned. "I can slightly recall the name, but who's Lily?"

{Art of Suicide}

A certain werewolf, though in its human form, was pacing back and forth on a certain Headmaster's circular office. The portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses stared down at him, curiously, as it was rare the man visited the office nowadays; and even more rare he was pacing. This man usually sat down and observed; thought rational without panicking - which a certain animagus did. However, the werewolf was alone with the Headmaster and did not hide his worries.

He was anxious, and anxious werewolves were not to play with.

"I swear to Merlin something is wrong! Hermione, Ron, Ginny - nothing! Molly, Arthur, Sirius, Alastor - nothing! Not even me! Something is wrong and you have to act now! It is dangerous times now, Albus. If something's happened to my cub, I don't know what I'd do."

Albus sighed and rubbed his eyes behind his spectacles. "I don't know, Remus. Five days - you know he usually keeps quiet-"

"And for what reason?" Remus interrupted rigidly. "His relatives are not treating him correctly. You know this; I know this; we all know this. So why are you hesitating? Doesn't Harry mean something to you? Isn't a boy you'd hate to hurt? You hurt him now, Albus. Each moment in that house-", Remus took an inhaling breath as he drew his hand through his hair. "When I saw him the first time, I- he was so skinny I almost thought James'd come back from his grave. I saw his haunted eyes and... his mental state isn't good after a week with those muggles. He's too shy, too withdrawn and hesitating. However, he adapts himself after the environment. You can't do this to him! I mean it. If you won't accept it and face it as it is, I'll take someone with me to check on him. Sirius would gladly help-"

"Sirius will not be taken outside the headquarters, Remus. It's too dangerous."

Remus slammed his fist on the desk with a remarkable force... had he not been a werewolf. "That's what I mean, Albus! It's too dangerous to take risks upon Harry. Even though he hadn't been a target of Voldemort's, I'd rescued him. Not for being James' son; not for being Lily's. I'd come for him for being Harry."

Another sigh let out of the old headmaster's lips as he closed his eyes. He probably thought of his options which were to either check on the boy himself or let Remus do as he wanted. With a tired look on his paperwork, he shook his head in defeat. "Very well. You may go and check on Harry, and I shall wait for reply."

Remus nodded, obviously happy to win the argument. Albus, however, called him back before Remus had closed the door. With a light tip on his head, he locked eyes with the blue, wise eyes.

"Take Severus with you. And you might consider to use Arabella Figg's Floo Network back to my office, as it's the only one that is tied with outside Floos of the school. For emergencies, but I wish for an early report of the boy. I want you take Severus with you", the elder continued with a higher voice to overpower the werewolf's interruption, "for he would know how to act should anything have happened to the boy."

Another nod was the only thing the elder got. He stared as the door closed silently after his former student and a third sigh let out of his lips. "Harry, what are we supposed to do with you? Troubles seem to like you rather dearly indeed. I only wish nothing happened though; that Mr Dursley merely forbade you to write letters. If that is the case, Harry, I am sorry. I know you must feel isolated, but you're safe there. The Blood Wards are in more need now, as Voldemort has ressurected."

{Art of Suicide}

A very sour Severus Snape and a victorian Remus Lupin walked up to the door on Privet Drive 4. It was a neighborhood that had their greatest interests on how a perfect house should look; just as everything else. Each house looked similar; smelled similar and were cut in the same lenght. It just was scary to see every house look as the one you just passed, as though you walked on the same place.

It was Remus who knocked on the door. Three quick, gentle but firm knocks on the white, wooden door. They heard quick steps from one room to another and they became louder, but they were not obstreperous. The door opened to admit a horse-like woman who looked torn and exhausted, at the same time rather revealed.

"You're the boy's kind?"

"Harry's?" Remus asked and Severus snorted. Who else's? he thought, very irritated to have been ordered to follow the werewolf to Potter's household. When a nod confirmed it, he continued. "Yes. We're wondering where he is? He hasn't responded on our letters and we grew worried." Here, Severus snorted again. He had grown indifferent but annoyed as everyone else in the 'Old Crowd' had grown particular panicked as though the Dark Lord himself had announced control over the boy. Had that happened, however, Severus himself would have panicked.

The woman, Petunia Dursley, looked as though she wanted to cry in their arms. Of course she did not do it; she invited them in and closed the door firmly behind. "Please, have a seat in the kitchen. Harry's asleep at the moment and I've got so much to explain for you."

"Is he okay?" Remus asked protectively. He smelled - a technique all werewolves had - the scent of his cub, but there was something slightly different. Was it horror, his cub felt? Did he not sleep well? Did he dream about Cedric; relived his death time after time again, as he had when he saw the death his first time? "What happened?"

Remus watched around in the passing walls, and noticed the abscene of Harry's life. Severus seemed to notice this as well, but did not show his curiousity. It was not his concern whether the boy were with the rest of the family on pictures or not; he probably held thousands of photos upstairs where he, Severus presumed, were at the moment. Asleep and unaware of the trouble Severus had made for the brat. Again.

They both sat down beside the dinner table and watched Petunia carefully. No; Remus did. Severus glared at her with one of the glares he only gave to those whom he hated. Petunia seemed to notice this particular glare. "I know you", she realized. "You're Severus. Lily's friend."

Severus did not respond, so she turned to Remus and eyed him even more carefully. "You were at her wedding. With Black. He's wanted."

Remus merely nodded. "Yes, but more importantly; He is innocent."

Severus let out a snort. "That cur is anything but innocent." With those words, he was received by a pointy glare from Remus.

"Well, that is hardly what we're here to talk about. About Harry?" He led them to the actual subject.

Something in the environment changed and both men felt it. One did not have to be werewolf to feel the auras of humans' feelings. The pleasantries were gone and an uncomfortable silence ran through the room. Severus, the stoic man, raised a brow and Remus blinked surprised. Petunia's hands had started to shake slightly, but noticeable. As she sat down, she tried to make her as little as possible. Which, however, was not needed. She was almost as thin as Harry. She had not the curves Lily once had.

Just as she was going to start, however, painful cries were heard from the upstairs. Remus' eyes widened and Severus frowned visibly. Petunia, however, broke down crying, unable to explain the situation.

"Severus, go check upstairs, please. I'll take care of Petunia", Remus offered. Severus, who gladly chose Potter before Petunia, hurried upstairs. He convinced himself he did it for the sake of his ears and not for the boy. However, he could not really feel happy for the boy whom had lost his boyfriend earlier this year. That fact added that he was murdered suddenly in front of his eyes. It must have hurt, and Severus knew that. Some things simply were painful and Severus did not intend to remind the boy of his loss further. It had broken Severus' own heart when the news of Lily's death received him.

But Severus was not a sentimental person. Sometimes he could just smirk at others' pain. He dismissed the thought he had been hurt himself during his childhood, and he had never got any help with that. Perhaps, he used to think, it was the reason I became attracted to the Dark Arts.

He simply enjoyed to see other people writhe in pain, or try to hide their hurt. That was probably the main reason he did not have loads of friends. When thinking about it, his only friend was dead. And to know it was his own fault, he tried to pay the debt by keeping her only son safe. And alive, which was rather hard with a Dark Lord after him. Severus did not like the boy personally. In fact, he did not like people, let alone children. However, he could carry civil conversations with some people; a collection that was at least more than a rather few selected. Albus Dumbledore was one of them. The fact that he often got annoyed by his old mentor, did not count. "Everyone gets annoyed by their mentors", was his simple excuse. Others were respected people, such as other Potions Masters and Mistresses. The reason he could carry a civil conversation with them was the fact they talked about something interesting. And they did not need to narrow down their use of words or equations of experiments. They all understood and were in the same level of competence. These meetings were held a week or so each summer and perhaps a social gathering here and there during the year.

However, these cryings from a certain room were rather horrifying. It was as though the boy's life was a pain. Severus, who usually enjoyed the sounds of pain, was not as used to this sort of pain. It was not the physical pain he was used to at the Death Eater meetings or raids, nor was it the small hurt one got by hurtful words. This was experience. And as it reminded him about his own childhood, he did not like it. Either he would curse the boy to scream under the Cruciatus Curse, or just make him shut up. He, of course, chose the latter. It would do no good to have a feral werewolf after him, should he ever lay a hand to hurt this particular boy.

As he had located the room whence the cryings came from, he noticed that locks were outside the room, even though not locked. Three locks, and it looked as though there had been more - but those had been removed, given the damages on the wall.

Why would someone want to lock a room so much?

But as they were not really locked, he did not give it a second thought. He opened the door and the screams deafened his thoughts. Behind the door did this particular Harry Potter lie. Or writhe, should that be more descriptive. And not only that; the boy writhed in one of the small room's corner. The boy had stomach to refuse a bed, lie on the floor and writhe.

Not to mention the screamings.

How the Cruciatus Curse seemed so beautiful.

"Potter!", Severus snapped. "You better wake up, boy, or I shall make you regret it!"

The cryings and writhings continued. How rude. How dared the boy continue dream?

Severus walked to the small boy and was about to slap him on the face, when he noticed that it had already been slapped. And that the throat had already been strangled.

"What in the Merlin's name has happened to you, boy?", Severus muttered. Could the boy not just stay out of trouble at least one season of the year? And whomever gave the boy so much bruises? He looked like something these farmers put up on their grounds. What was it called? Oh, yes. Scarecrows.

Deciding to wake up the boy carefully - he could snap at him, detect points and deliver sweet hours of detentions during the upcoming term - he knelt down to shake the boy's shoulder. As he did this, the boy froze and the screamings became sniffles.

"Do you miss your dear little boyfriend so much, Potter?", he muttered, rather annoyed. Whatever gave the boy right to not wake up? He should wake up by his mere presence! "Now, wake up! Potter, you are testing my very low patience", he warned and shook the shoulder unnecessarily violent.

That seemed to do, Severus noticed approvingly. "Yes, go on, boy. Wake up!"

The eyes fluttered open and revealed dull, green orbs.

They dared to be dull and emotionless after such screamings and cryings? The boy dared to be arrogant to not show any emotions at all?

"You better not scream that much, next time. Diggory's dead and you better face it by now, Potter."

The dull eyes were not replaced by hurt or sorrow. They remained dull. And Severus hated it, for Lily's eyes should not be dull. There should be emotions floating through the emerald eyes; not be some kind of cold, frozen stones.

"Professor Snape? What are you doing here?"

So the boy recognized him, even though he used a toneless voice. However, that was one detention lesser. "I am here to check on you, since you have worried the whole Weasley clan, a certain Granger and werwolf, your mutt of a godfather and some other people who - surprisingly - seem to care of you."

The expression on his face did not change. "I have?" Even the tone was emotionless. Again. Did the boy not even care for the people that cared for him? Could he be even worse than his father?

Surely not. He did not steal his enemy's own created spells. Not that Potter would use Dark Arts to hurt Draco Malfoy. Severus doubted he would even use them against the Dark Lord, when the time came. He was too noble.

"You arrogant brat! You haven't written at all to confirm your welfare. Your friends are firmly convinced Death Eaters have taken you away and are torturing you this very moment. You better have an excuse to -"

"I asked him not to write, Severus", came a sad voice behind him. As in a reflex, his wand was in his hand and his eyes on the intruder. Petunia Dursley. Again. He put the wand back in his sleeve and raised a brow as an invitation for her to continue. "I didn't know how to contact you. I could've used Harry's owl, but I really didn't want Harry to be... prepared for this conversation we need to have. Severus, why don't you wait downstairs with Remus, and I'll take Harry downstairs?"

Severus snorted, but did as he was told. He blamed it on the simple reason he did not want to be in the same room with the evil sister to his dead friend, and the son of his dead friend and school enemy. Especially when they were there at the same time. With the little boy - who was as skinny as before - in a bad emotional state and a caring aunt.

Had he not been right all the time? Of course Potter was spoiled. Arrogant and spoiled, filled of Gryffindorish foolishness.

He ignored all the facts the boy did not seem to have one single dingus that pointed out someone actually lived in the room. Except from the empty owl cage.

Petunia watched Severus walk out the room and she shook her head. Some people just grew up sour, and some did not. However, she could not blame the man for being angry at her. She had not been nice at the man in their childhood, after all. But everyone was a child as well as they had to grow up sometime. Those who had the chance, at the very least.

She took her nephew into her arms and stroke away the bangs on his forehead. The action revealed the lightening bolt scar that was awfully red against the pale skin. It seemed to be a rather bad time for the boy. She really wanted to be a good aunt and pay eternity for her priceless mistakes.

"Harry", she began and stroke the boy's cheek. He seemed to be used to her touch, even though he was stiff and wary. It hurt her to know this boy had to go through this sort of recovering. Had she been in charge, no one would have to go through this. However, one bad thing brings a good it seemed. Vernon's abuse would probably have gone unnoticed had Harry not ended up on the hospital. "I want to help you, you know that, right?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"I want to explain for Remus and Severus about what has happend. You need help and I think it'd be inappropriate for you to go to Hogwarts for now."

"Okay, Aunt Petunia."

She blinked, though not all too surprised by the short answers. "So you want me to tell them? And perhaps get help for you? You give me a chance?"

Harry did not blink. "Give you a chance to what?"

"To be the aunt I've never been for you."

"Oh, that. That'd be rather nice, I think. We could picknick somewhere. D'you think Dudley wants to come? I would love if he wanted. I always wanted to follow you when you picknicked, you know. I've never been on picknicked, however. I hoped I'd take Cedric out and picknicking later but I guess that doesn't work out well now. See, he hates me, Aunt Petunia. I think he really does. Would you give me something sugary then, if we picknick? I like sugary things. It tastes different to salty things."

She licked her lips inside her mouth before she responded. "I think we could picknick sometime later, Harry. For now, I want to tell Remus and Severus about what's happened, okay?"

"Do you know a funny thing, Aunt Petunia? Severus is the name the professor in Potions. He hates me too. I think everyone hates me. See, people wore these Potter Stinks badgers last year. 'Cept Cedric. He didn't. Not even Ron when he hated me for a while. Hermione didn't hate me. She hated me in third year instead, I think. Everyone seems to hate me, you know. Did I say Cedric didn't? But he does now. What if I started to hate everyone back? Think that'll do some good, do you? I can start now, if you want to test it."

"No, Harry, I don't think it'd do any good", she said carefully. "And I don't hate you."

"But you did", he pointed out. "Before He came. He didn't hate me, by the way. He said I was a beautiful slut. You think I'm a beautiful slut, Aunt Petunia?"

"I most certainly do not, Harry!", she exclaimed. Just to hear him talk like that about himself made her want to tear this man apart. With her own hands. "You're beautiful. Just beautiful."

"I don't think I'm just beautiful, Aunt Petunia. He said he'd come back, because I was good. Then it must mean I'm something else, right? But beautiful?", he snorted and shook his head in disbelief. "You know, picknick would be great. Don't tell Uncle Vernon, though. He'd never allow people see me with you. I think he'd use thirty-five times then. I can barely manage thirty times without crying. See, you just need to be prepared and go into this light place. It isn't light anymore, though. It's dark there. Cedric dies there, over and over again. And those hands scare me. Picknick, Aunt Petunia. When will we go for picknick?"

{Art of Suicide}

Remus watched the Potions Master leave the house. It seemed that now it was proven the boy was safe in his aunt's loving arms, he was not needed anymore. But Remus knew better. He could feel the tension between Severus and Petunia. He did not question it, however, since he knew that they grew up in the same neighborhood. It seemed that Petunia had not liked the boy, which no one could blame. One usually did not like Severus. But Lily and Severus had been friends. Remus knew, after all, they had been friends even before Hogwarts and thus must have lived rather close together.

Lily never talked about Severus when they graduated. It was as though she was ashamed by the fact she had left a friend in need; that she left him alone to the Dark Arts. She had known he took all his pain out on others, and she had tried to help. Remus was the only one who knew about this, since Alice by no means would remember that. Lily never forgave herself when she heard Severus had taken the Dark Mark. She constantly blamed herself and each time someone mentioned him, she would stiffen and blanch out. This, she told Remus, and Alice Longbottom, when she needed someone to find comfort. James and Sirius were good choices too, but they tried to cheer one up instead of going deep within the feelings. It made them uncomfortable to feel, and see other feel sad. It was as though their task in their lives were to cheer others up.

About Lily and Severus though. The two had been very close, after all. Remus had not seen the Potions Master after the fateful night when Voldemort brought Harry his scar. He sometimes wished he had seen the man's reactions when he found out the death of the woman he grew up with.

Such pain it must have been, since his last word to her was - except for his continuously tries to pay for the slip - mudblood. He must have felt so guilty and angry. Remus almost found himself pity the man. However, he himself had left the country when he was convinced that Sirius had betrayed them all and he had no friends left.

The man he had loved was the traitor, everyone had thought that. His world had changed when he had found out Lily and James were dead. It had almost let the werewolf out in complete control. And then Sirius was sent to Azkaban after he killed Peter. It was clear he had needed the break. Albus had, after all, told him little Harry was safe. And he was right, of course. By seeing the woman's care for him. Perhaps it was just the uncle and cousin that was bad?

Which reminded him; where were they?

He had not much time before Petunia came down with a very ill-looking Harry. Protectiveness flooded through the werewolf's veins. Harry looked worse than he did after the death of his boyfriend.

In fact, he looked dead himself.

"Harry?", he heard himself speak. "Harry, are you okay?"

The dead expression on his face did not change. He barely moved his bitten lips at all. "Hullo, Professor. I feel like someone squeezed out my soul. Like a dementor, but I don't even feel. I have no idea if that's what 'okay' feels like."

Remus blinked. Harry seemed to be so indifferent by the words he just uttered, as though it was the most normal thing to say. The boy seemed to be more confused by the fact Remus was there, than his changed behaviour.

One thing was sure, Remus told himself, and that was that he would listen to Petunia's every word. And, of course, observe his cub. That was what he did. Watch out for his cub. Apparently he had failed a little on that task, but how bad could it be?

Idiot! It is bad enough to make Harry totally insane!

Harry'll never turn insane, Lupin.

We'll see, dear self. We'll see. Just look at the lad. Do you see someone who wouldn't turn insane?

Remus shook his head and turned his attention to Petunia. "Well? Care to explain?"

"Harry got raped-"

"I did not, Aunt Petunia! He was very charming, though I didn't really see him. He said I was beautiful and that I deserved to have some pleasantries in my life. Who can't deny such offer?"

Petunia sent a look at Remus, who currently stared at his white knuckles. At the mention of "rape" and "Harry" in the same sentece, Remus almost took Harry into his arms to run away after having Little Whining blown up in the air. And then have it added by Harry's words.

He wanted to strangle someone. Or just tear someone's limbs apart. That would have felt so nice. It would have felt like justice to Harry.

Then Remus came back again, knowing that Harry would never want anyone's limbs splitted from their bodies, even though the crimes.

He bit his lips and stared at Harry. The boy looked wary, as though he expected an attack in the very moment. Then he noticed those small changes that teenagers went through during their years. His cheekbones stood out a little more - more than usual, that is - and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. How much sleep did the boy get, anyway? His nose looked more like Lily's, when Remus really looked at it. In fact, many appearances in Harry's face were Lily's more than James'. He figured that when just giving Harry a glance, he looked like James as the shape of his face was James, and the untamable hair just added it. But when looking closer his nose, forehead and cheeks were more Lily's.

Something twisted in his stomach. How much he wanted them back. It hurt every time he looked into Harry's eyes. But then, he would never let his cub in the hands of evil.

Which he had let more than once.

Oh Merlin, did she say rape?

"Harry? Is this true?" Of course it is, you stupid idiot! Petunia wouldn't lie about this, now would she?

"That I got raped? No. No, no, no; For whatever reason? Rape is a brutal crime, Professor. Very brutal. It wasn't brutal for me. See, I think he loves me. He said I was beautiful. Why would he say that, if it was rape?" Harry shook his head, obvious found it amusing that his aunt and ex-professor thought he had been raped. "Sometimes you are overprotective, sir. But I don't know with you, Aunt Petunia. Why d'you suddenly care about me? And where's Uncle Vernon and Dudley? D'you think they got angry at me when I didn't make their breakfast? I hope they aren't. You promised me I didn't have to!"

Remus noticed that Harry's face darkened. Whether it was because of pain or betrayal, he did not know. The words that left Harry's lips - in that particular tone - was enough.

"You promised me safety, Professor Lupin. Where were you? Where were you when I needed you? I begged and I pleaded. He took my soul when you promised me safety. I'm very disappointed in myself, for now I'm neither here nor there. It's confusing when it doesn't make sense. I can't think straight. I really want to do this picknick. I really do. You may come with us, Professor. Sirius can come as a dog, can't he?" His bitten lips twitched as though he could not decide whether that was good or bad. "You both promised me safety. See where it lead me? I'm nowhere to be found. But that's to be expected. That's fine. D'you think Cedric would like to follow us on picknick?"

Remus stared blankly at his cub. This was not his cub! And yet it was. All evidence were laid on the table. He had failed to protect his cub, even though he had begged him to stay with them this summer. He had begged, but they all had dismissed it, thinking a few weeks were nothing to worry about.

"You promised me protection! You all did! Give it back to me; I demand it! I don't want to live without my life. Never safe. Kill the spare, he said, and I watched him die. He's mad at me, for you did not keep your promise. I want him back. He's the only one that made me stay sane. The only one. And now I'm no one, nowhere to be found."

Now, he knew why Petunia wanted to call attention to Harry by not letting him write back. It would, for once, not have been understandable letters. And it would not have done anything good, had Harry asked for someone to come and check his mental state. Albus would simply tell that later would be fine. The others would have exhaled in relief; The boy was safe and not in the hands of the Death Eaters.

Petunia had wanted them to send the best protective wizards to Harry, to ensure he would get a good treatment. Remus had to admit it was a clever move by her. She could not have sent the boy to a Muggle ward, since he would probably be taken even more insane if he talked about evil dark wizards.

And the Wizarding World would have been aware of the boy's state in the upcoming paper.

Remus frowned. What move was he supposed to take? Probably aware Albus and the Order. But had they not enough to do, just to recruit members? Surely the boy was more important.

A glance on the boy said everything. He was rocking back and forth, not aware of his surroundings. The Dark Lord himself could probably appear and Harry would not have seen any difference.

{Art of Suicide}

Oh, they think I'm mad. I can sing all day, and they would not have looked at me any different. I'm mad in their opinions. Perhaps it is time for some madness? I'm tired of being their happy little pawn. I want to be Harry. Just Harry. And now it is my chance, yes?

But I see the wall and I feel the urge. I want to throw my whole body against the wall and feel my ribs break. It would feel so horribly nice, to feel pain again. It's like, well, it's like I've finally found home.

Balmy, to think that I'd find a home in pain. Perhaps, if one felt too much pain, you become safe there.

What was it now again? Oh, yes. Best safety lies in fear.

[A/N} Much schoolwork now, again. I sigh and I sigh and I sigh. However, it will probably be a little delay. A couple of weeks, I believe. I need to build up the next chapter, as well. I think we will see a little view of the rapist. No promises though, just the mere warning it will take longer for next chapter.

And I am aware this was a long chapter. Please review your thoughts! It is interesting to read them, although I probably will not answer all. I do not find it necessary to show gratitude to individual person, when I can simply say it here. Thanks for reviews in last chapter.

Why does it feel like I've already said that?