A/N: Yes, contrary to popular believe i am still alive! I am so sorry about the delay guys, but what can i say? School sucks and so do exams and massive unmanagable projects. So to make up for it i'm doing a double update. I also apologise for the abruptness of this chapter, but it was very difficult to write. I'd like to say thanx so much to everyone for reading and double thanx for reviewing. All i've had in my inbox this week is alerts saying i'm on people's story alerts grins I feel so special ) Anyway enough rambling, enjoy!

Chapter 11

Severus made his way to the headmaster's office, ordering his thoughts and pulling his mental shields closer. The Headmaster was not above a bit of subtle leglimency if it gained him his purpose, as he had found out long ago.

Once having spoken the ridiculous password and navigated the stairs, Severus walked straight into the office, not bothering to knock. Dumbledore, no doubt, already knew it was him.

Dumbledore glanced up from the paper he was reading as he entered, gesturing silently for his spy to take a seat.

"What can I do for you Severus?" He asked as he replaced the paper on a nearby stack.

"I came to speak to you about Potter."

"Is there a problem?"

"Not as such, I wished to speak to you about the leglimency lessons"

"How is it going?"

"He has learnt the basic skills. But he struggles constantly with his emotions"

"Ah. Well it is to be expected Severus. He is only a teenager." Dumbledore looked at him meaningfully.

"I wonder Headmaster," Severus said, ignoring the look, "if I may be permitted to teach him physical combat together with leglimency."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly "Why together and not separately? I'm sure Remus would not mind teaching him."

"Headmaster I feel Potter would benefit more doing them concurrently rather. It would teach him to hold up his mental shield while in a difficult situation, and to control his emotions while he fights."

"I see," Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully. "Severus, what of the 'incidents' pertaining to Harry. The ones you wished to look into?"

Severus was prepared for this question, having thought the headmaster may want to know. He would not lie, not outright anyway.

"I think the boy is under a great deal of stress at the moment Headmaster. Much is expected from him and he has no outlet for it. It is another reason learning physical combat would benefit him. It would give him a way of releasing stress without accidentally blowing things up."

Dumbledore nodded, he knew Harry's magic tended to become a bit wild when he was emotional.

"Yes, I think it may be a good idea. You will keep me updated in regards to Harry?"

"Of course." Severus stood to leave and walked out the door

/\/\/\/\

Severus sank into his favourite armchair wearily. Teaching all day was such an onerous task, especially when one had such dunderheads for students. Even the few pupils who showed an iota of talent in his art did not have the determination, or inclination for that matter, to put it to use. He stared contemplatively at the fire whiskey in the tumbler he held. The gold liquid swirled gently, smoking ever so slightly. His mind automatically started listing ingredients that produced such effects.

Potions had been one of the few subjects he had managed to excel in at school. Partly because his teacher was one of the minority who didn't discriminate against different houses- well Slytherins- and partly because of his natural ability. When he had taken his Mastery in the subject he had not thought he would have to use it to teach foolish, ungrateful children.

He sighed as he thought of the small inter-house war the school seemed to be waging. Slytherins against the rest of the school community. He'd had to talk to three different sets of students this week alone because of their retaliation tactics.

It didn't help that his house was divided, with a proportion turning to the Dark Lord, another neutral and the last -admittedly few-clinging to the Light. It saddened him to see so many going through what he had had to go through in his own school years.

His thoughts turned to Potter once again. Severus was unsure how he felt towards the boy. Part of him- the part which hated Potter for being his father's image- was angry that the boy had found a way to take up even more of his time. Another admittedly smaller part of him knew that that was rather unfair. He was the one forcing the boy to come back and accept his help. Well not forcing him perhaps, but not leaving him many other options.

But even now Severus was struggling to accept Potter was not who he seemed. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't have allowed his golden boy come to harm? But then the boy had a knack for getting into trouble. Surely one of his many friends would of realise something wasn't right? It seemed not. They had all assumed Potter was alright; perhaps that was something the boy relied on to hide the truth?

Severus decided he would start trying to get the boy to tell him what happened in their next few lessons.

Severus took a last look at the alcohol before downing it in one long pull. It wasn't enough to get him intoxicated but rather enough to dull the ache of a long day. It had been a long time since he's drunk enough to become inebriated. Every bone in his body protested at the mere thought of being incapacitated; in his life one simply couldn't afford it.

Slowly he got up to go to bed, hoping fervently that his Mark would not begin to burn.

Harry dozed fitfully, afraid if he let himself sleep he would dream or have visions. He was unused to sleeping without taking his pain killer although admittedly he had slept through much worse. Eventually, around 5 o'clock in the morning he gave up sleeping as a lost cause and padded softly down to the deserted Common room.

He relit the fire quietly with a flick of his wand and sat staring at the flames. It was Friday. He had a transfiguration test today, a charms quiz and a potions essay to hand in. He had to fetch a healing potion from Snape. Ron would probably want to play quidditch before dinner. Remus or Hagrid would want them to go for tea sometime on the weekend.

Hagrid didn't worry him, he rather enjoyed his company. The man was easy to be with, not constantly worrying him and asking how he was. But Remus would watch him. Watch to see if he was ok, if he was upset, if something was wrong.

And that was the problem. Something was wrong. Harry knew he wasn't coping well with Sirius's death. That was obvious. But how did you cope with killing someone? Especially when it wasn't just a someone. It was the only person you had left. He had screwed up. Again. And again it cost somebody there life. Cedric. Sirius. How many others? He was a murderer. He deserved everything that had come his way.

It all came down to him being weak. That's why there were tears coursing down his cheeks unchecked. That's why they had died. He hadn't been strong enough to save them. That's why he couldn't let Ron and Hermione stay close to him. Because he was afraid they would die too. That's why people couldn't find out about what had happened, what had been happening. Because then they would know. They would see just how weak he was, how scared. And he wasn't allowed to be weak. Or scared. He would not fail everyone else. He would not be responsible for anymore deaths.

He heard movement upstairs. Glancing at his watch he saw it was nearly half six. Everyone would be up soon, preparing for the last day of the week.

Harry got up stiffly and roughly brushed the tears from his eyes. He couldn't go on like this. It was pathetic. Somebody would notice. Well somebody other than Snape he though a little bitterly.

He would do what he had to do because he had to. Life would go on. He had proven that countless times and this was no exception. It didn't matter what had happened, especially since he had deserved it anyway.

But if it didn't matter then why was he falling apart at the seams? Why did the thought of some one touching him give him chills? Why did it haunt his dreams?

Because he was weak, he decided.

But he would not fail anyone else. He wouldn't. No more being weak. No more being afraid. No more.

Severus carefully added the last ingredient to healing potion he was brewing and left it to simmer. It would be ready for Potter to take that evening. He checked his watch and saw it was time to go to breakfast. Why Dumbledore made him eat up there he did not know; the noise and number of students doing their homework on the tables was intolerable. He would have much preferred to take meals in his own rooms.

He changed into his teaching robes and left for the Great Hall, carefully locking his room behind him. He wondered if there was to be a meeting this weekend. Merlin he hoped not. Perhaps there wouldn't be if there had been such a large one the previous weekend. He stalked into the Hall and to his seat at the Head table.

Harry forced himself to smile at one of the lamer jokes Ron was telling them at the breakfast table. He had taken a dose of the various potions Snape had given him to take, as well as his own and was now attempting to eat his way through his small bowl of porridge with rather a lot of difficulty. He knew the other two were watching how much he ate. He got the feeling the Potion Master was also watching him to by the way his hair kept prickling on the back of his neck. He made himself keep up with the conversation as well, concentrating on what was being said instead of the queasy feeling in his stomach.

Eventually they got up to start walking to their first class, as the breakfast rush started. As they walked Harry was testing Hermione, somewhat unnecessarily, for the upcoming charms quiz while Ron was desperately trying to do last minute cramming of all the knowledge he was supposed to have learned.

(That Night)

Harry sighed quietly to himself as he climbed tiredly into bed. He reached for the blue vial on his side table and took a sip. He'd given in when Ron said he wanted to play quidditch after lessons. There had been no way in hell he was going to try fly without a painkiller. Although his bones had healed, the rest of him was not, and Snape's potions didn't work that fast.

He winced as he though about the potions. They made him feel sick, even just thinking about them made his stomach churn. Was that suppose to happen?

Harry crawled under the blankets, and wriggled to get comfortable. He was still getting used to lying in a soft bed again. He started trying to clear his mind, hoping against hope he would have a dreamless night while tucking away his memories and emotions as he slowly drifted into sleep.