Summary: Harry cuts himself, Severus finds out. Snarry ensues.
Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own the characters or original setting of Harry Potter…I just borrow them and stick everything in box, shake it up and see what spills out. Heehee.
WARNINGS: not-so mild slash. Talk of cutting and self harm. Snarry fluff at the end!
Harry looked out upon the lake. It seemed so calm, so peaceful. Unlike his emotions, which were boiling and always threatening to break the dam he had built to stop them coming out.
He looked at his palm. The blood was already drying; the wound was already slowing in its bleeding.
Harry knew what he did to himself was wrong. He knew it, but he did it anyway.
He cleaned his knife in the grass. The numbing feeling was fading now, making way for the turmoil of his emotions.
He placed the knife on his left wrist…but them pulled it back and pocketed it. It was nearing breakfast time; he had to wash the blood off.
He hid his hand as he was walking toward the school.
He was thinking about everyone's reactions to the knowledge that the Chosen One cut himself, when he bumped into a warm body.
He looked up to see Severus Snape there.
"What are you doing out this early, Potter?" Snape asked, sounding condescending.
Harry scowled up at the man. "Nothing." He said, and pushed past his snarky potions teacher. Snape shrugged it off, glared at the boy, and continued walking. He liked to watch the sun rise over the lake.
Harry cleaned his hand in the bathroom, and then looked at the diagonal cut across his palm. It was deep enough that he would need bandages if he was going to use it. He conjured some, and then wrapped his hand in the soft fabric.
At breakfast, Ron pointed out his hand.
"Cut it on a rock when I fell earlier; down by the lake." He said. His friends nodded and believed. Harry inwardly scowled. They were mindless sheep.
Since it was Saturday, and he had no classes, Harry decided to go flying after breakfast. And he did.
Once he made it to the Quidditch pitch, he took off his robes. Underneath he was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. Harry stares at his arms for a moment, looking at and remembering each silver scar. Most were thin and looked like nothing at a glance…but others were deeper, longer, more ragged.
And there, on his wrist, was the small, deep cut he had made nearly a month before, when he had wanted it all to end.
He scowled as he mounted his broom and took off. Of course, it hadn't ended, because he was the Savoir of the Wizarding World. Because he couldn't do himself in before he delivered an entire fucking world from the hands of a madman.
He contemplated his life, and why he cut himself as he flew, the wind making his eyes tear a little.
His life was actually very simple; he had to go to school at Hogwarts, where people fear/worshipped him, or just plain hated him, and then he got to go back to the Dursley's in the summer, when he was beaten and hurt, and nearly starved. And occasionally Voldemort would make an appearance, try to kill him, and shake things up a little bit. And eventually, he would have to kill the old bastard…and then no one would care what happened to him.
Harry also knew why he cut himself, wrong or not. It helped him. The pain numbed his mind, at least for a little bit. And the scars were reminders. They told him of all the days and nights he had wanted to die, had been sad and depressed. Some even told about the people who had died because of him. He had every one of their names etched onto his body.
'Lilly Potter' was etched into his left arm, just inside the bend of his elbow.
'James Potter' was etched in the same place on his other arm.
'Cedric Diggory' was etched onto his left shoulder, and 'Sirius Black' onto the other.
Harry hoped he would never have to add anymore names, but he knew it would happen anyway. More would die, and more of his blood would flow, in tribute to them.
Harry felt the knife in his pocket, like a sudden weight. He landed roughly, and lay there for a while, staring at the darkening sky.
He took out the little silver blade, and opened it. He placed the point in the bend of his right elbow, and slowly pulled it down, making the skin spread beneath the blade. It took a small moment, but then the blood well in the cut, and overflowed.
The cooling night air made it sting fiercely, and all though was lost to Harry. He just had to keep going…had to keep cutting…
He blinked several long minutes later….and looked at the ruined flesh of his right arm. He summoned some bandages, and began wrapping his seeping appendage.
He was light head and dizzy, but his mind was pleasantly numb.
He watched as the blood soaked through the bandages, and he saw spots. He worried that he had cut too deeply this time…that he was going to die on accident, from blood loss.
He pocketed the knife and stood shakily. He looked around him, and saw a darker shape against the night sky…a person.
Said person was bent of a lower shape, probably a bush. Harry's vision was blurring, but he managed to take a few steps forward.
"Help." He whispered, and then he fell.
Severus Snape had been gathering leaves from a Hawthorne bush. For the qualities he wanted, this could only be down after the sun had set. SO he was out at the edge of the Forbidden Forest after sunset, and was wondering why he hadn't made a House Elf do it instead.
He heard a muffled thud, and spun around, illuminating the area with a spell.
There, not three feet from him, was a student, collapsed on the ground. And not just any student either, but Harry Potter.
He hurried over, and rolled the boy over. Severus's sharp eyes took in the pale skin, and the bloody bandages in one glance. He paused as he noticed all the scars, but pushed it to the back of his mind. Potter needed help.
He shook him slightly, to see if he was awake. His chest was rising and falling slowly and barely at all, but he was breathing.
"Snape?" Harry rasped. His eyes were barely open, and his vision was starting to come back.
"Potter, I need to get you to the infirmary. Can you be moved?" Snape asked.
Harry shook his head sharply, and then groaned as his head pounded in pain.
"No…don't want them to know…" He murmured, his eyes falling shut again.
"Who? What?" Snape asked. He wondered if the boy was referring to the scars.
"Dumbledore…everyone…cut m'self." He said in a broken murmur.
Severus Snape's blood ran cold.
In the Wizarding World, such self harm was nearly unheard of. It took a truly broken soul to commit such acts. That a sixteen year old boy did, and quiet frequently by the looks of it, was terrifying and heart-wrenching to Severus.
Snape took a potion out of his emergency case and looked at it. It would rejuvenate Harry's blood, and give him enough energy to make it back inside, to the infirmary.
He opened the boy's mouth and poured the shimmering orange liquid in. Harry swallowed the nasty brew reflexively, and sat up, sputtering and coughing. Severus supported him.
"Don't hate me…Sev'rus. Don't." Harry murmured. He was still very much out of it, and didn't really know what he was saying. And, he figured that the dark, warm body of Severus Snape, who was holding him, was a figment of his imagination. Too good to be true.
Severus started at the use of his full name. Then he realized the boy was too far out of it to know what was going on. He decided to indulge both he and the boy.
"I don't hate you…Harry." He said softly.
"Okay. Love you, you know?" Harry murmured, nearly asleep now.
Snape sucked in a breath in shock. He loved him? He…Harry Potter…returned his hidden feelings?
Snape shook his head, dismissing the idea before he could get his hopes up. The boy was delirious. He shook him slightly, and Harry opened his eyes fully, feeling much better.
"Where am I?" He asked.
Snape scowled. "You are currently out after hours, Mister Potter." He drawled. Harry stiffened, and Snape released him.
"S-sorry Professor. I'll be going now." Harry said, standing quickly—too quickly actually. He got dizzy and swooned.
Severus caught him before he fell, an oddly gentle hand on the small of his back.
"You most certainly will not be going anywhere, except to the infirmary. You're wounds need to be healed properly, and you have some explaining to do, concerning your scars." Severus said sternly.
Harry shook his head. "No, please sir. I don't want Dumbledore to know…if he knows, then everyone else will to. Please. I'll stop, I swear. Just…just don't make me tell Dumbledore." Harry begged, his green eyes pleading.
Severus sighed, cursing those eyes, so like Lilly's and so different.
"Fine. But give me your blasted knife, and any other…implements you have." Snape said, holding out his hand.
Harry sighed and pulled his shiny silver knife out of his pocket. Then he pulled a wrapped piece of glass out of the other. He pulled a pin out of his jeans and a razor out of his sock.
Severus was shocked. He had expected a knife, maybe a piece of glass. But not so many horrible things.
"Is that all Mister Potter?" Severus asked, his mouth dry and his voice soft.
Harry nodded his head. He met Severus's eyes for a moment, blushed, and then looked away.
"Did I…did I say anything, while I was out of it?" He asked hesitantly.
Severus hesitated, wondering what to tell him. He didn't want to lie to Harry…not fully, anyway.
"You asked me not to hate you, and not to tell." Severus said. Well, it was mostly true.
Harry looked relived, and was. He was terrified he had told Snape his feelings for him. He started walking away then, hoping he could find his cloak later on, and his broom as well, and a warm, pale hand gripped his arm.
He was spun around quickly, and pulled against a hard chest. Strong arms embraced him, held him closer. Harry felt his own arms wind around the person in response.
"If you ever need to tell someone something like this, come to me. I won't tell Albus. Just promise me you won't hurt yourself anymore." Severus whispered softly into Harry's ear.
Harry wanted nothing more than to kiss those soft looking lips…but didn't. Instead, he nodded. "I promise." He said slowly. He meant it to, with every fiber of his being. And he hoped desperately, that he would not break that promise.
Snape nodded, and then He let Harry go, and he was gone. Harry stumbled back into the castle a few minutes later, cold, confused, and very, very tired.
Sunday morning, Severus sat at the staff table eating the eggs on his plate. His eyes scanned the hall for his favorite Gryffindor. But he didn't see him. He could see the Granger chit, and the Weasley brat. But he could see no head of raven hair.
He waited, thinking the boy had just slept in, as was likely. But as students started leaving after finishing their meals, he knew this was most likely not the case.
He frowned suddenly, catching himself worrying about Harry.
"It's just because of what I saw last night." He thought to himself as he got up, his breakfast finished.
He walked out of the Great Hall, and then started heading to the dungeons. He stopped though, when he noticed the afore mentioned Gryffindor sitting in a shadowed alcove.
He went up to him, and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Harry jumped, and relaxed only slightly when he recognized Snape.
"What are you doing here, Mister Potter?" Snape asked, raising one eyebrow.
Harry sighed and looked away. "I…I was writing poetry and fell asleep." He murmured, so low Snape could barely hear him.
"What was that?" He asked, hoping to get a rise out of the boy.
"I said I was writing poetry, and fell asleep." He said louder, his cheeks stained a brilliant red.
The other eyebrow shot up. "You? Writing poetry? I didn't even think the Gryffindors understood it." Severus said, sniffing haughtily.
Harry stood up and stepped out of the alcove, and start4ed walking away.
"Where are you going? I didn't dismiss you." Severus said.
Harry stopped, and whirled around. "Leave me the fuck alone. You were so understanding, even nice last night. Now you're a bastard again! Stop playing mind games with me and just leave me the hell alone!" He said, not shouting, not even raising his voice.
Severus looked around, and then said softly, "Follow me to my office. I'll explain there." Harry nodded, clutching a notebook tightly. Severus just noticed it, but brushed it aside as not important.
He led Harry to the Potions classroom, through it, and into his office. He then whispered a password to a portrait of a pretty young woman in black, surrounded by snakes, and it swung open, revealing a door. This he opened, and stepped through.
Harry paused, unsure if he should continue. He had fantasized, many times actually, about Severus's personal chambers. He took a deep breath, pushed the dreams and fantasies away, and followed his professor.
"Please sit, Mister Potter." Severus said.
"Harry. Call me Harry. 'Mister Potter' makes me feel like I'm in trouble." Harry said softly as he sat on the black velvet couch. He looked around the room. It was mostly done in earth tones, much to his surprise.
The couch was actually a very dark brown, while the carpet covering the stone floor was done in varying shades of brown and green. The walls were paneled with oak wood, and there were actually many paintings with trees and forest scenes in them.
"Fine. Harry, I want to explain my recent behavior." Severus said, sitting on the opposite end o the couch from Harry.
"Last night I was…terrified and appalled by what I saw you had done to yourself. So I comforted you. Earlier, I could not, for there are many sons and daughters of your enemies here, and they watch me to report to their parents my behavior. You see now why I could not act the same way?" Severus asked, looking at Harry sternly.
Harry sighed and nodded, and then a question sprung to mind. "Why did you act like that anyway? Last night, I mean. It was unlike you." Harry said.
Severus looked away, and was silent for so long Harry thought he wasn't going to answer. But he did. "I do not know." He said softly.
Harry blinked a few times in shock. Snape was admitting to not knowing something?
"Why does my cutting myself appall and frighten you so much?" Harry asked gently.
Severus sighed and looked into Harry's eyes.
"Because, in the Wizarding World, self harm is rare. And it takes a very…broken soul to do it. To purposely hurt oneself takes a lack of lust for life. A like of…wanting to live." Severus said, still gazing into Harry's eyes.
"Really? That's not why I do it. I do it because it's the only thing that stops my mind from thinking about the deaths I have caused, the madman that is trying to kill me, the family I never had. It numbs my mind, just for a few minutes. It's a way to hide." Harry said.
Severus found himself leaning closer to Harry, and Harry to him. Yet he didn't pull away.
"You want to stop thinking of all the bad things?" Severus asked summing up what Harry had said.
Harry nodded his eyes fixed to Severus's own.
"I'll show you a different way." Severus said softly, his breath ghosting over Harry's face.
Harry leaned forward more, and then he felt Severus's lips on top of his own. He kissed back eagerly, and did not resist when he was pulled onto a warm lap.
Severus was right; it did get Harry to stop thinking.
The kiss heated, and Severus ran his hands over Harry's back, and lifted the shirt off of him. Harry just continued kissing him.
Severus stopped when he saw the lithe young body in his lap.
"I'm sorry Harry. Potter. I shouldn't have done that. Leave." Snape said.
Harry shook his head.
"No. Honestly Severus, if I hadn't wanted you to kiss me, or touch me, do you think I would have let you?" He asked, pressing up against Severus.
Severus knew he was right. Harry was a more powerful wizard than Severus could ever hope to be.
Harry leaned back a little, and Snape glimpsed his chest. It was tan and lithe, from Quidditch. But it was also crises-crossed with scars.
He ran a finger of one, and Harry shivered.
"Why? Why so many?" Severus asked, finger still tracing the scars.
Harry replied softly, "They each tell of a time when I wanted to give up. I remember what each one is for, you know." He watched Severus tracing his scars, and his heart quickened.
"What was this one for?" Severus asked softly, tracing a long curving scar that ran from Harry's collarbone to just about his left nipple.
"That one was because I couldn't stop Cedric from dying. I had a crush on him, you know. Most of those are for Cedric, actually." Harry said his voice sad.
"And this one?" Severus asked, tracing one that ran just above the line of Harry's jeans.
Harry shivered. "That one was because I let Bellatrix get away; because I wasn't strong enough to kill her." He said.
Severus noticed one on Harry's wrist, and traced it. "And this?" He asked huskily.
Harry looked away.
"That was when I realized I…loved someone who would never love me back. I wanted to die because of it…" He said slowly, his voice shamed.
"Who?" Severus asked, kissing each fingertip.
"You." Harry murmured.
"Well, then I guess you were wrong on that account Harry. It couldn't be further form the truth." Severus said, kissing his way up Harry's arm now. He stopped part way up, and began kissing Harry's neck.
"I guess so." Harry said.
Severus kissed him then, and Harry knew that as long as he and Severus were together, he would never hurt himself.
He mentally shuddered to think about what he would do if Severus ever ended it, but he pushed it away as Severus kissed him again, and all his thoughts numbed out. Except one.
"Mm. Much better than cutting myself." He thought. And then his brain was too fuzzy to think any further.
Yeah! Happy ending! Oh, its been much too long since I've written a good Snarry fic! Please review!