Chapter fifteen
His afternoon classes passed quickly, and none of his teachers or classmates commented on what he was still doing in the Slytherin classes, so word must have spread fast. When he was finally free of the days lessons, he headed straight down to the dungeons.
He stood outside the entrance to Snape's rooms for several long minutes, listening as groups of students headed down the passage and ducked into their common room. Harry finally sneered at the stones and then turned and made his way back toward the Slytherin common room. It wasn't until he was standing outside this section of blank stone wall that he remembered he didn't have the password for here either.
Frustrated and about to go and sit at the end of the passage on his own again, Blaise turned a corner and spotted him. Harry fought the urge to turn and walk away and instead planted his feet and forced a small smile onto his face.
"Let me in?" he asked as soon as Blaise approached him.
"Of course, Harry," Blaise responded and turned to speak the password, ensuring he was loud enough for Harry to hear it.
"Did you want to have a game of chess?" Blaise asked quietly as they stepped into the room. No one paid attention to their entrance and Harry took a look around the room for any empty tables or seats.
"Sure," he shrugged and moved swiftly across the room for two available seats. Blaise went and got his chess set from his room and then made his own way over to where Harry was.
They sat in silence while he set up the board, giving Harry white, and then remained silent for several moves. Harry was just trying to figure out whether the silence was awkward or welcome, when Blaise sat back in his chair and just looked at him for several moments.
"Do I have something on my face?" Harry asked, knowing he didn't and enjoying the rosy blush that appeared on the Slytherin's cheeks.
"I AM sorry, Harry, but I couldn't NOT say something." Blaise admitted quietly and Harry put down the rook he'd been playing with and sat back in his own chair.
"I know," he responded just as quietly, "I guess I'm just frustrated. I can understand where everyone is coming from, thinking I need help. I think maybe I do need help. But I also just want to be left alone, and so it's like I'm being torn in two different directions and I once again I had no choice in the matter."
Blaise grimaced and stayed silent again for their next few moves, chewing quietly on his bottom lip. Harry felt himself grow jealous at the action that he couldn't do without causing some stupid alarm to go off, and then felt stupid for being jealous for something like that.
"You know I like you, Harry?" Blaise finally asked, and Harry nodded absently as he tried to set up a move on the board that would allow him to win the game.
"I mean, like you, like you," Blaise continued and Harry dropped his chess piece, causing several to be knocked from their places.
When Harry looked up from his frantic grabbing of chess pieces, Blaise's cheeks were burning red, but his eyes stayed steady on Harry's face, causing a blush to rise to his cheeks also.
"Um," he managed weakly, then swallowed hard as a burst of arousal spread throughout his body. He fought it down in seconds and forced his cheeks to stop flushing, while Blaise remained as he was, stiff with apprehension but clearly not planning on taking it back.
"I think you like me too," he almost whispered and when Harry didn't deny it, he finally smiled.
"Look, I'm sorry if that was a little awkward or whatever, I had to get it out there. I needed you know that where I don't expect anything from you, I AM here if you need someone to talk to, or have a hug, or just not be sitting alone somewhere." Blaise told him and Harry felt water prickle at the corners of his eyes before he swallowed deeply once more.
"Thank you," he managed and their chess game continued in silence once more. With his attention shattered though, Harry lost the game, then the three others they played after that one. As conversation picked up between them, they avoided any serious topics and stuck to discussing school work and Quidditch teams.
When the dinner hour was signalled and people began to make their way from the dungeons for the great hall, Harry stood and smiled at Blaise.
"Thank you," he said again simply and pulled the Slytherin into a quick hug before practically running from the common room. He took a seat at the Slytherin table next to Crabbe and across from Goyle, who both greeted him but refrained from asking questions. When Blaise and the sixth year Slytherin girls joined their group several moments later he gave them all a smile and then helped himself to some dinner.
A stomach soother appeared and he drank it quickly, but was unable to do much more than pick at his food. He was happy, but his stomach was still in knots and after a couple of days of quiet solitude at the Hufflepuff table, the small conversations going on around him were almost too much.
Blaise had taken the empty seat to him and about half way through the meal, he bumped Harry's thigh with his own.
"You ok?" he asked quietly and Harry nodded his head and smiled.
"Yeah," he told the Slytherin, "just tired, I guess. You guys are nowhere near as loud as Gryffindor, but I've been eating alone enough that it's exhausting sitting here." he confessed.
Blaise just nodded and bumped Harry's leg again, trying to express his sympathy. When Harry had managed to eat half of what he'd dished himself, he stood up.
"Later," he told the Slytherins and strode quickly from the hall. A quick look over at the Gryffindor table showed several people looking at him and snickering with their friends. Ron and Hermione completely ignored their table mates and Harry, and Harry felt his heart constrict before he hardened himself.
When they appeared truly sorry for their actions he'd forgive them. Until then, he maybe had Blaise and the other Slytherins, but he didn't NEED anyone.
After ten minutes of standing outside Snape's quarters, the man finally appeared to speak the password and let him through. After Blaise's revelations and the exhausting meal, Harry wanted nothing more than to head to his bed and go to sleep, but paused by the couch instead.
"You may skip our nightly discussions tonight, Potter," Snape told him as he took in the appearance of the teen. "I would suggest an early night instead."
Harry just nodded without bothering to speak, and after a quick shower he was in bed and asleep.
The room was damp and a little cold, the only light an oddly green-flamed torch shoved roughly into a sconce in the wall.
There were several people in the room, all clothed in black robes and masks, and standing in a circle clearly involved in watching whatever they surrounded. Their jeers and crows of victory, and derision and hilarity echoed off the walls loudly.
He moved closer to get a view for himself, but was only able to make out another robed figure standing over something in the very centre of the group. The figure did something that seemed to really entertain the others watching, and the shouts of laughter echoing off the walls made his ears hurt.
A small bundle of cloth was thrown over the head of the people nearest him and landed with a wet noise on the cold stone floor. Curious, he ignored the group of people for now to move closer to the thrown object. Bending down, he could see it was clothing of some kind, so with a quick glance over at the group of people to ensure he was still unseen, he lifted a part of the wet material up.
It took several long seconds for him to process exactly what he was holding, and when he did he gasped and froze in horror. It was a muggle dress, short and flowy and perfect for a summer evening, but it was mangled almost beyond recognition.
Red stains covered the majority of the material, creating a macabre juxtaposition from the yellow daisies that made up the fabric and with a great gasp, he threw it from him and frantically wiped his hands on his legs, trying to remove the blood that clung to them.
A spot in the circle opened wider and it was with trepidation and a rapidly beating heart that he moved forward to get his first look at what the circle contained.
Lying in the centre, naked and unconscious lay a young woman, no older than twenty. Her body contained numerous cuts and welts and bruises and even as he stood there horrified at the sight, one of the robed figures moved forwards to roughly fondle a breast, to the mocking jeers of the people surrounding him..
Harry couldn't see anyone's faces, but their eyes all glowed maliciously in the glowing green light and as the figure knelt down to carve deeply in the flesh of the woman's stomach he roared loudly and leaped at the man.
His vision grew dark for what felt like eternity and when he opened his eyes once more, he was on the floor in the centre of the circle. The robed figures all laughed mockingly and a new one stepped forward with a knife in his hands. Before he could blink, his clothes had disappeared and he was lying spread eagled and naked.
Any attempts to curl in on himself and hide were met with a resistance he could not understand and he was forced to lay there as the group around him laughed and taunted. The figure above him with the knife knelt at his side and traced the scars on his body with the blade, causing him to flinch and eliciting more laughter.
The knife was laid aside and for long moments the figure simply stared at him through the slits in his mask. Suddenly a hand was around his throat and squeezing hard and breathing became more and more difficult. His blood was pounding in his ears, a loud rushing that brought darkness to the edge of his vision, then just as suddenly the hand was gone.
It traced its way down his collarbone, then his chest, then his stomach and then grabbed him between the legs. The figure removed his mask to reveal the red eyes and nose less face of Voldemort and he screamed.
Harry awoke with a loud shout and tumbled from his bed, crashing into his desk and knocking his chair over with a bang that had Snape barrelling into his room in his nightwear with his wand wielded in front of him.
He couldn't breathe in his panic and he was clawing at his arms and legs in his distress, trying to bring himself back from the nightmare that was even now still bombarding him with images. Snape stood in the doorway, clearly hesitant to approach him just yet and Harry forced himself to push the images from his mind while he drew in deep lung fulls of air.
He'd just gotten himself calm again when he realised he was hard.
Bile rose in his throat and he was barely able to lean forwards before he was violently sick on the floor in front of him. Snape did step forward now, to banish the sick and summon a vial to his hand that he offered to Harry.
His erection was gone now, but not the horror of it, and so he ignored the vial to fall onto the floor and curl himself into a ball, the action reminding him of his dream.
"Mr Potter," Snape began and Harry flinched and curled his head into his chest to cover it with his arms, whimpering quietly and still struggling to breathe.
"Mr Potter," he tried again, "you need to unfold yourself now and take this damned potion or I will be forced to summon Poppy and you will be removed to the hospital wing."
Something about the hospital wing managed to get through his panic and after several long, deep breaths he was still unable to uncurl himself, but he did hold his arm out to grab the vial from the offered hand.
He drank its contents down, wishing desperately that it could be dreamless sleep and not a calming draught, and waited for its contents to kick in.
The dream was fading a little now, though the feelings it had created, the horror and panic muffled now that he had the potion, but still there. It was almost fifteen minutes later that he was able to pull himself into a sitting position and shuffle his body until his back was leaning against his bed.
"Care to discuss it, Potter?" Snape asked, having stayed patiently standing while he gathered himself.
"No," he managed through his sore throat and Snape narrowed his eyes before summoning another potion and offering it silently. Harry sniffed its contents then downed the pain potion gratefully, wincing as it passed his raw throat, then relaxing minutely as it began to work.
"Very well, for now," Snape responded. "It is almost time to awaken for the day, so I suggest you have a shower and then meet me in the living area so that I may treat your wounds." At that Harry looked down, startled to see red welts forming on the skin of his arms, blood bubbling up through some of the deeper scratches.
He winced at the sight, then sighed and nodded his head before standing and gathering the necessary items to get ready for the day. The water in the shower stings his arms and brings a little more clarity to the fog that surrounded him and he was very tempted to scratch the lines deeper.
The sight of the cuff on his wrist stops him and instead he closed his eyes and allowed the slight sting to continue grounding him in the moment.
When he finally made his way to the living area, Snape was already dressed for the day and was waiting in his chair with a potion vial and some cloths. Harry sat opposite him and laid his arms out wrists up, grimacing at the sight of all his scars surrounded by angry red welts.
Snape said nothing, just used one of the cloths to gently rub the potion into his arms and another to dry them before banishing all of it back to his lab. Harry rolled the sleeves of his robes down and headed back to his room to grab his school bag.
Snape was still sitting in his chair when Harry returned from his room with his school bag thrown over his shoulder.
"We will talk tonight, Mr Potter," he finally spoke up as Harry opened the door. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped into the passage, making his way to the great hall. He wasn't hungry, but he knows if he is not sitting there when Snape comes to have breakfast there will be hell to pay, so he sat at the Hufflepuff table again and put at slice of toast on the plate in front of him.
His stomach soother appeared next to his plate the moment he put food on it, and he was tempted to leave it. Knowing that Snape will be annoyed if he didn't take it, but feeling like he deserved the churning in his guts, he grabbed it up and poured its contents into the mug of pumpkin juice in front of him.
Blaise came in and throws a concerned look his way when he noticed that Harry was back at the Hufflepuff table, so Harry forced a small smile onto his face and just shook his head minutely. Ten minutes later he left the hall with his toast and juice untouched.
Several days later and he had managed to avoid discussion of his violent dream by talking about other dreams he'd had, or about some of the abuse he suffered at the hands of his uncle, during his nightly sessions with Snape.
He had started losing weight again, what little he'd managed to gain when he was eating regularly, and it was starting to show in his face. In the gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes and the way he held himself when he had to stand for long periods of time.
He continued to pretend to drink the stomach soother, and played around with the food on his plate, knowing Snape can't actually see if he is eating or not from where he is seated at the head table. The churning in his stomach is constant now, and he's grown so used to it that he can almost ignore it on occasion.
He sat with Blaise and the other Slytherins once or twice, but mostly sat in his usual spot at the Hufflepuff table. There was an awkward game of cards in the common room with all the sixth years playing, but Harry had felt so dissociated from the game he'd missed his turn several times and received looks of worry from all of them.
Finally, several days after the nightmare, he woke from a surprisingly dreamless sleep feeling well rested and not nauseous for the first time in over a week. The scrapes he'd done in his sleep were fully healed and almost invisible against the backdrop of other scars as he washed in the shower and when he stepped from Snape's rooms to then run into Blaise, he smiled a genuine smile at the Slytherin.
Blaise returned the smile with a wide one of his own and they walked to the great hall for breakfast. Harry took a seat at the Slytherin table, much to Blaise's delight and eyed the food before him. The nausea threatened to return, but he pushed it back and gulped the stomach soother that appeared at his plate rather than surreptitiously emptying it into his glass like he had been doing.
A piece of toast and some apple slices later, and he was full and trying to ignore the worrying thought that he really shouldn't be feeling so full after such a small meal. Blaise had smiled and talked with him throughout the whole meal and Harry joined in with the small banter.
Class was less lonely and went quicker than it had all week, although there was some panic when he realised the amount of work he had been avoiding had not gone away but instead piled up to create a mountain of due projects and homework, none of which he had done any work on.
Blaise seemed to see the panic in his eyes at their last class of the day and offered to lend his own notes and work so Harry could catch up easily. Feeling overwhelmed, Harry nodded and followed the Slytherin to the common room to take an empty table.
When dinner came around, Harry was still working on an overdue essay in transfiguration and he told Blaise to go on without him. Blaise had looked him over with concern, then simply nodded and left the common room with all the other students heading to dinner.
Snape found him there twenty minutes later, mumbling quietly to himself and chewing the end of his quill while he searched through the pile of notes in front of him.
"Why, pray tell, are you not at dinner, Mr Potter?" he drawled as he entered the room, causing Harry to jump and knock a few of his papers onto the floor. Frowning, he picked them up before he turned to scowl at his professor.
"I was trying to catch up on work," he said grumpily and crossed his arms across his chest in defence.
"You have been instructed to not miss meals, Mr Potter. Did you forget?" Snape responded and Harry scowled deeper.
"No," he said sullenly, "I just had so much to do, and I wasn't hungry. It's just one meal."
"Is it?" Snape asked, eyebrow raised, and Harry fought back the flinch when he saw the knowing gaze of his professor.
"We will be discussing this tonight, Potter. I will expect you in my quarters at seven." With that, Snape turned and strode from the room leaving Harry alone to stare at the work in front of him as his heart rate soared with trepidation.
Blaise found him still there a little while later, finally calmed down from his run in with the professor and feeling happy once more as he put the finishing touches on his last bit of overdue work.
"All finished?" Blaise asked as he noticed Harry's smile.
"Finally," Harry declared dramatically, forcing a laugh from the Slytherin, who took a seat next to Harry and started to help gather all the papers, quills and text books. A minute later and the table was cleared with everything shoved back into his bag.
"Want a game of chess?" Blaise asked and Harry smiled and nodded his head. The game was going well, Harry was close to finally winning, when Blaise gave Harry a shy smile and shifted so his leg rested lightly against Harry's. Harry returned the shy smile and leant forward to reach a chess piece, shifting slightly so his leg leant heavily against the Slytherin's.
Blaise's smile widened a little and when it was his turn, he moved his piece then lightly brushed a finger against Harry's hand. Heat shot through Harry at the flirting, and with it, memories of being held down and groped roughly.
As suddenly as the arousal flared, it disappeared to be replaced with horror and disgust and not wanting to upset the Slytherin, he excused himself quickly and raced from the common room leaving his bag behind.
Terror clouded his vision and for a moment he was back in his dream before he stumbled into a wall and the harsh grating of stone on his cheek jarred him out of his panic. Disgust at himself, at his mind and at his body, had him shivering with intensity and his body burned with the itch to release these feelings.
Hastily he made his way up and out of the dungeons, then headed to Myrtles bathroom and privacy. Technically, he was out of bounds, and his cuff would probably tell Snape that, but since he intended to get this itch out of his skin that would be the least of his concerns.
The toilets were empty, Moaning Myrtle nowhere to be seen and he gratefully moved into a stall and locked the door. He pulled out his wand and pried a loose chunk of stone from the floor, transfiguring it into a dull coloured, but sharp, blade.
His sleeved were rolled up to his arm pits and there were several long gashes sliced into his forearms when he finally came truly back to awareness and he looked at his arms in horror. None of the cuts were overly deep, though they still bled sluggishly, but there were so many of them.
Panicked, but feeling so much more grounded with his arms throbbing to the beat of his heart, he dropped the blade into the toilet, then used his wand to transfigure bandages from the toilet roll. His arms were wrapped as well as he could, and when he decided that Snape was clearly not going to come to him, he unlocked the stall door and left the bathroom.
Feet heavy, but chest and head so much lighter, he made his way down to the dungeons and Snape's rooms. When he entered, Snape was in his chair with several bundles of bandages and a small pile of potions in front of him.
"We need to talk, Mr Potter."