Chapter Seventeen
When Snape knocked sharply on his door the next morning, his head still pounded and his eyes still burned, but his heart beat steady in his chest. He had spent the entire night thinking about Snape's last question about whether he actually wanted help or not, and had finally come to the conclusion that yes, he did.
He knew that existing like this, in a state that was half blind terror and half complete and utter emptiness, was not going to end well for him and possibly those around him. He needed to FEEL. To learn how to get past all the negative emotions and experience the positive ones, even if he wasn't all that familiar with them to begin with.
When he failed to respond to the knock on his door, Snape rapped once more then entered the room. Harry looked at him from where he lay on his back on the bed through red rimmed eyes and Snape gave a heavy sigh at his appearance before pulling a potions vial from his pocket and offering it to him .
"Pepper-up," he explained at Harry's inquisitive gaze, "I had hoped you would manage a small amount of sleep, but it is obvious that you did not."
Harry shrugged, feeling guilty for some unknown reason, and reached a hand out to take the potion. He grimaced at the sight of the bandages on his arm, stark white against his pale skin, and the guilt increased further.
"I'm sorry," he told his professor who raised an eyebrow but did not say anything.
After he had downed the potion and waited for the steam to stop pouring from his ears, Harry reluctantly pulled himself out of bed and stood before Snape.
"You will remain here today, Potter. You're professors have already been informed, and Madame Pomfrey will be down to speak to you at some point." Harry felt his cheeks flush lightly with embarrassment at the thought of the conversation he would have to have with the Medi-witch but remained silent.
"You will come and eat a meal before I leave." Snape finished and then turned on his heel and left the room without bothering to see if Harry would follow. Swallowing deeply, Harry threw a robe over his head for some much needed warmth and then headed out of his room and toward the living area.
Snape indicated the chairs with a nod of his head, and once Hary sat, a lap tray was placed over his knees with a steaming bowl of oats decorated with berries and brown sugar.
"You will eat as much of that as you can stomach," the professor explained to Harry, who wrinkled his nose at the large bowl, but after swallowing the vial of stomach soother on the tray, he picked up the spoon and began.
It was clear less than half way through the meal that he was full and simply forcing more food into his mouth in an effort to please Snape, who sat sipping a cup of tea, a permanent frown on his face which only deepened when it became evident Harry would simply eat until he made himself sick.
"Enough, Potter." he finally snapped and Harry jumped, dropping the spoon into the half-filled bowl and causing several flecks of oats and fruit to splash out onto the tray and his legs.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled and picked the tray up to place it on the table in front of him, where it was soon snapped up by a house elf.
"I told you to eat as much as you could stomach, Mr Potter, not to make yourself ill." Snape snarled out and Harry flinched back into his seat and apologised again.
"I didn't want to disappoint you," he explained hesitantly and Snape pinched his nose between two fingers for several long seconds before looking at Harry through clear, dark eyes.
"Very well," he said shortly, then stood up, "Madame Pomfrey will be by when she can, and I will return between classes to ensure you eat lunch. Until then, you are expected to rest, Mr Potter."
Harry nodded and watched the professor gather a pile of papers and head towards the door. Just as he was about to leave the room Harry called out softly.
"I do want help." He paused for a second, then shrugged his shoulders even though he knew it frustrated his professor. "I think."
Snape eyed him sharply, then nodded his head in understanding before he stepped through the door and it shut it heavily behind him.
Harry breathed a deep sigh, then pushed down the surge of hatred he felt towards himself when his first thought was that he was alone and he could go and hurt himself in the shower without Snape knowing about it until he returned.
He didn't even feel like he needed to hurt, it was just his default thought now and he hated that he had gotten to this point. In an effort to forget the urge, and the subsequent feelings, then thoughts and memories that brought up, he moved off back to his room and sat on his bed with his transfigurations text.
It only took about two minutes for the silence to get to him, and he was soon gathering an armful of work to take out to the living room where it didn't seem as lonely. He was just managing to get into his work when a chime on the door rang, and then it opened to admit Madame Pomfrey, holding a medi-bag.
He could feel her examining him, taking in the dark bruising under his eyes, the paleness of his cheeks and the white bandages poking from beneath the sleeves of the robe he wore, and he grimaced when she pursed her lips, but stood to greet her politely.
"Good morning, Mr Potter," she greeted as she stepped further into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind her.
"Morning," he mumbled and fought the urge to look down at his feet in guilt.
"Sit, Mr Potter, you look as though a stiff breeze could knock you flat," she told him firmly, then took Snape's usual seat as he took his own.
"Professor Snape told me you are still having issues with your meal consumption?" she asked him and he nodded.
"Even with the stomach soother, I don't feel hungry," he told her. "I suppose I don't ever really feel it, anymore."
Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips again and pulled out her wand to cast several spells in his direction.
"You have lost a further two pounds to what you were when I first weighed you, Mr Potter, you are dangerously close to suffering long term, serious effects of malnourishment." she told him, then opened her medi-bag to grab a small vial off nutrient potion and handed it over to him.
Harry grimaced at the sharp taste, but drank the entire vial before handing the empty glass back over.
"You will be on those for a long time to come, Mr Potter, I would suggest you get used to the taste," she told him brusquely and Harry grimaced again but didn't bother protesting.
"Now, tell me a little more about the issue, please, so that I can give you all the aid I can and we can prevent a serious relapse in your health."
Harry felt the protests rising to his lips, but bit his tongue instead of voicing them. He wanted the help, that's what he'd told Snape just this morning and a part of getting help was going to be talking about things he'd rather not.
He consoled himself with the thought that he didn't have to go into extreme detail, and sat back in his chair to regard to Medi-witch solemnly.
"For as long as I can remember, my relatives used food against me." he began, then unable to resist, he pulled his knees up to his chest to cuddle them close before he continued.
"They liked to see how many days I could go without before I passed out, or how much expired food I could eat before I was sick. When they weren't playing those sorts of games with me, I would receive one or two slices of bread and a mouldy piece of fruit and that was it."
"My first night here, when I saw all the food laid out on the tables, I ate like an animal, or like Ron," he managed to joke weakly, earning a snort from the medi-witch.
"I then spent the night curled on the bathroom floor with severe cramps, after I had vomited up all I had eaten. Ron believed the story that I had just stuffed myself stupid, and I knew better from then. I kept my meals small, and snuck bread or fruit from the table to eat between meals. I built my stomach up slowly but surely over the year, and despite everything that happened with Quirrel, by the end of year feast I was able to eat as much as anyone else at the table and I felt fantastic."
"Then I went back to the Dursleys," he finished wryly. "That summer was spent feeling hunger pangs I hadn't felt in a long time, and it only took the weeks back there for all the weight I'd gained to drop off and undo all my efforts with my stomach."
"I decided not to bother when I returned in second year, and no one ever really commented on what I ate except maybe Hermione when she was in a really bossy, nosy mood."
Harry buried his head into his knees, exhausted when he finally finished speaking and was grateful when Madame Pomfrey tapped him gently on the leg then offered him a glass of water.
"Then we will take this as slow as we can, Mr Potter, but you ARE in danger of becoming seriously ill. I would confine you to bed rest as it is, if I thought I could actually keep you there." Harry gave her a small smile at that comment, but was too exhausted to speak.
"Instead, you will have a daily double strength nutrient potion, which I will give to Professor Snape to provide, to ensure you actually take it," Harry frowned at that but she continued as though she didn't; see. "You will also have an appetite stimulant before each meal, as well as the stomach soother. You will not increase your appetite if you do not eat." She explained, and Harry nodded, resigned to having to take a plethora of disgusting potions.
"Now then," Madame Pomfrey said curtly, "would you like to explain the bandages on your arms?"
Harry blushed a deep red and drew his arms closer, protectively.
"No," he told her stubbornly, then sighed deeply when she only sat quietly and watched.
"Professor Snape dealt with them," he finally told her and she frowned at that before nodding stiffly.
"Very well," she allowed, then pulled two vials from her bag and placed them on the table before closing it and standing up.
"Your stomach soother and appetite stimulant," she explained as she moved over towards the door.
"Mr Potter," she started before she opened the door, and Harry turned in his chair to look at her. "I am here if you need someone to listen," she told him, then left the room leaving Harry alone once more.
Snape found him sitting in the same spot a little over an hour later, and after taking in the protective curling in of his body and the slight tremble in his arms, he stepped into his bedroom and returned with a half dose of calming draught.
"Madame Pomfrey sought me out to explain what steps we will be taking regarding your food issues and how well you did today in opening up," he explained when Harry looked at the offered potion with a questioning expression.
After several minutes he was able to uncurl, and he shook his head at the calming potion.
"I need to drink too many as it is," he spoke quietly, "I'll be fine." Snape eyed him for several long minutes before nodding his head. "Very well." He summoned his house elf and ordered a plate of mixed sandwiches and a bowl of fruit salad and then plated up some food before passing it across to Harry.
"Potions first, then eat what you can, not what you think I want you to." he told Harry who nodded and did as he was told.
Lunch was quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of chewing and swallowing and with the two potions in his stomach, Harry was able to complete an entire sandwich and a small bowl of fruit salad before he started to feel uncomfortable. When Snape seemed satisfied his efforts, he was unable to supress the small amount of pride that welled up in him and he offered a small smile to the professor.
"Thank you," he told Snape.
"We are a long way off yet, Mr Potter, but if you continue to retain this new found acceptance then we will see you well."
The next couple of days passed much the same. Madame Pomfrey had decided that bed rest was unlikely to be achieved, but keeping him confined to Snape's quarters was attainable and so he was kept from class and Snape brought his schoolwork to him at the end of the day.
His nightmares continued, but they were mild in comparison to what they had been and each night Snape would come into his room and sit with him until he had calmed down. Then Harry did his best to talk about the dreams; the basilisk fang piercing his arm, Riddles wrinkled tiny body as it was placed into the cauldron in the graveyard, his vision of Mr Weasley getting attacked by Nagini, the maniacal laughter from his uncle as he whipped him bloody.
Each time he would share a piece of himself, Harry would feel simultaneously lighter and heavier and it confused him until he realised why. Talking about the event solidified it. It wasn't just a bad dream or a story he'd heard, but something real, an experience he'd had and memorised and a burden he would always carry. But sharing it lightened that load, gave little of it over for Snape to carry for him.
Things weren't perfect, as evidenced by the scratches on his thighs, and the bruises on the inside of his cheeks, but they were slowly improving and for the first time in a very long time Harry was finally feeling optimistic about his future.
When he'd told Snape that the night before, he'd paused and eyed Harry for a moment before he'd asked how Harry had felt about his future before this.
"I don't know," he'd confessed and shrugged his shoulders eliciting a growl from his professor.
"Truly, I don't." he continued. "I guess I figured that Voldemort would eventually kill me, if my uncle didn't get there first."
"Did you ever consider 'getting there first?'" Snape had asked and Harry had needed to pause for a very long time before he answered.
"Sometimes," he finally confessed. "When I was lying in my room in pain from a beating, or the visions from Voldemort were so fierce I'd wake up covered in sick and sweat. I never could do it, though."
"For which many are grateful," Snape replied evenly and Harry had blushed bright red and refused to talk any more.
Now, Madame Pomfrey had finally declared him fit enough to get back to class and he was equally eager to go and extremely nervous to see his classmates. He had not seen or spoken to Blaise since running out on him and he cringed every time he thought about it.
Asking Snape when he could go back to Gryffindor and the tower only ever elicited a growl from the man and so Harry had given up asking, impatient but accepting that he would have to wait a while before he could be trusted again.
He ate his breakfast in Snape's quarters, despite the professors urging to go to the great hall, and was eternally thankful for all the potions he took. He was sure without the stimulant and soother, there was no way he could have eaten past the butterflies in his stomach and he'd have both Madame Pomfrey and Snape on his back again.
He timed it so he stepped out of the rooms after the initial stampede of kids making their way to breakfast and classes, so the passage was clear. By the time all the other Slytherins were nearing their first class of the day, Harry was already seated on the floor by the door with a textbook in hand.
Whispers greeted him as people noticed him sitting there, and he did his best to ignore them all until Flitwick opened his classroom and invited them in, welcoming Harry warmly back to class.
"Where have you been then?" Goyle took the empty seat next to Harry and waited for him to answer.
"I was sick," he said simply and when it looked like Goyle was going to push, Harry sighed deeply and put his book down to turn and face the boy. He could see Blaise out of the corner of his eye, and turned briefly to give him a small smile before turning back to Goyle.
"I'd lost a lot of weight, due to being sick and I was on bed rest. Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let me go anywhere." he explained as truthfully as he could and fought down the blush that wanted to warm his cheeks as he felt both Goyle and Blaise looking him over.
"You look okay, now," Goyle told him and he nodded in response.
"I'm on a whole lot of potions that I'll be on for a while, but I'm fine"
"Good," Goyle said simply, then turned back to his own text book.
At the end of class, Harry was packing up his books and papers when he heard someone call his name softly. He looked up find Blaise approaching him hesitantly.
"I'm sorry," they both blurted out.
"Why are you sorry?" Harry asked and Blaise ran his hand through his hair in a nervous gesture.
"I'm sorry for pushing you," he admitted and Harry frowned for a second before he realised what Blaise was talking about.
"You didn't push," he explained, "I just have a bunch of issues to deal with." It was Harry's turn to run his hand over the back of his neck in his own gesture of embarrassment. "Something had happened the night before, and I guess it affected me more than I had realised," he admitted with pink stained cheeks.
"Please don't feel like you did anything wrong. I'M sorry, for running away and then staying away for a long time without offering you an explanation. I could have sent a note or asked Professor Snape if you could visit and instead I left you feeling guilty this whole time." Harry felt horrible for doing that to his friend and could feel the guilt building up in his chest, so he bit his cheek until blood flooded his mouth but that just made more guilt.
"It's fine, Harry, I'm just glad you're alright," Blaise told him, then stepped closer to examine Harry's face.
"You are alright?" he pushed.
"No," Harry confessed, "but I think I will be." Surprised at his honesty, he blushed and rubbed the back of his neck once more. He'd fully come back to class expecting Blaise to be angry with him but he knew he should have expected more from the kind-hearted Slytherin.
"Would you like to have a game of chess this afternoon?" Blaise asked and Harry paused causing Blaise to continue.
"Just a game of chess, as friends," he explained and Harry smiled at his attempts to make it feel more casual even though Harry could practically feel the attraction and determination coming off the boy in front of him.
"I don't think I'm ready for it, just yet," he finally admitted and felt his heart sink as an unidentifiable expression flickered over Blaise's face before he took two steps back.
"Oh, okay," the boy stammered out and Harry reached his hand out for a second before drawing it back in.
"Look," he said, scrubbing his face with his hands, "I know it's cliché and all, but it's not you, it's me." Blaise managed a small smile but it fell quickly and Harry could feel the friendship slipping through his fingers.
"Please," he croaked out through a suddenly dry throat, "Please. Ask me again a month from now."
Blaise nodded his head and after giving Harry one last smile, grabbed his bag from his table and left Harry standing alone in the room. He was drawn from his head a few moments later when several first years tumbled into the room and he blushed then swore as he realised he was going to be late for his next class.