Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

Redemption

Rated M for self-injury, physical abuse and sexual abuse. Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing! It all belongs to JKR.

Chapter 1

Guard duty. Guard duty for Harry Potter. I had never been picked for this particular honor before. However, everyone else was busy and the boy "needed protection." The Dark Lord knew of the protections that existed as long as Potter was at his aunt's house, and because of this I never understood why people (i.e. me), had to give up an evening to watch over Harry Potter. Tonight, I knew, was his birthday. All of the Weasley's had been gushing about it today. Lupin wanted to be here, but it was the full moon. And so here I am. Stupid fuss for a birthday, really. I am sure he will get more gifts tomorrow than I have ever got in my all my birthday's combined.

All of the lights in the house were off, except one, which I assumed was Harry's. It was almost three AM.

"Don't you ever sleep?" I muttered, checking my watch. Suddenly the window opened, and Harry Potter gingerly stepped out on the roof. He threw out what looked like bed sheets tied together to form a rope and shimmied down onto the grass. Damn it, I thought. Obviously I had to follow him. I had not counted on running after Potter all evening.

I followed him down the block, keeping in the shadows. Harry reached a park and sat down on a swing. At the sound of his voice I froze.

"Just three more hours til it's daylight. Three more hours. I don't understand why it's so hard at night, but it is." Harry was talking quietly but I was close enough to hear everything. "Happy birthday to me. Happy fucking birthday. I can only imagine what "gift" Vernon is going to give me." Harry shuddered and was silent for a long time. "Filthy. Weak. That's what I am. I'm supposed to kill the Dark Lord, but I can't even protect myself from my Muggle uncle when he…" Harry's voice trailed off.

Well now I was confused. What he hell was he talking about?

"Dirty. Dirty, dirty, dirty," I heard him whisper. He wound the creaking chain of the swing around and around.

Something in the back of my mind clicked but I did not want to jump to any conclusions. I wasn't sure if I should reveal myself to Potter or not. On one hand I did not want to continue traipsing through Muggle suburbia in the middle of the night. On the other hand--nevermind. There was no other hand.

"You know, wandering around in the middle of the night, by yourself, is not the safest thing you could do. It sort of defeats the point of me being here."

Please read and review! This is the first fanfic I've published and I really need feedback. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"You know, wandering around in the middle of the night, by yourself, is not the safest thing you could do. It sort of defeats the point of me being here."

The look on his face was priceless, I had to admit.

"Um," he stammered.

"Um, indeed. Do you often break out of your house to come to this beautiful," I sneered, "park?"

"I didn't know I was being followed, sir," he spit out. "So has Voldemort sent you here? Or Dumbledore?"

"Shut up, Potter. I have been standing in the bushes all evening "protecting" you. I will not now be insulted by you," I hissed. Why does he always get under my skin? He's just a child. "Besides, I'm sure you need your beauty sleep. I would imagine you need you need all your strength to open your many presents tomorrow."

Potter snorted and gave a humorless laugh. "That's rich. I can't image the Durlsey's would ever celebrate my birth. More like the other way around." Potter stood up and stretched. He looked thin, tired and ill. I was suddenly irritated by his attitude.

"I don't have time for teenage melancholy. Go back to your uncle's house." I knew I was being an ass, but I was tired and wanted only for this evening to end as painlessly as possible.

"What if I said no, huh? What if I stopped following orders from everyone? Stay inside, be calm, stay with your aunt and uncle," he shouted.

"Silence, Potter. We all have to do things we don't want to. You don't see me throwing a temper tantrum right now, do you?" Hysterical Potter was something I was not in the mood for. Suddenly, however, it was over. He looked like all the fight left him, as quickly as it has rose to the surface. In spite of myself I was interested. What is going on with him? "What's the matter, Potter?"

"Like you care," he snapped.

"Fine. By all means continue wallowing in self-pity."

"You have no idea." He turned to face me, illuminated in the orange light of the park. He seemed struggling for control. "None." He pointed a finger at me, and that's when I noticed. Cuts were all over his wrist. I struggled to keep my face as neutral as possible.

"Potter," I said slowly. I wasn't quite sure how to procede from here.

"I'm going to bed." He turned around and headed down the block. Again I realized how thin he looked.

"Potter. Look at me."

"No, I won't have you looking into my mind. It's private!" he shouted.

"I will not be spoken to like that!" I had caught up to him by now. I stood in front of him and put my hands on his shoulders. "Now look at me, Potter. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," he said hesitantly. "Nothing," he repeated, looking down at the ground. I took my hands off his shoulders and sighed.

"Okay," I said. What else was there to say? I wasn't about to perform Occlumency on the boy. We walked silent back to 4 Privet Drive. Harry began to climb up the makeshift rope. As he climbed in the window I called to him. "Good night, Potter."

"Good night, sir," he whispered and shut the window half way. I melted back into the bushes I had previously camped out in and stared into the window. The light was on, still. What a bizarre evening! Who would have thought that Potter would be cutting himself?

Seeing the cuts on his arm brought back a flood of memories; of being sixteen and alone, of self-hatred, of abuse. In the middle of these musings an owl flew out of Harry's window and down to me.

"What?" I asked. The bird was pecking me, and after examining it I realized it had blood on it's wing, but no injuries of its own. "Fuck," I breathed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."


	3. Chapter 3

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Disclaimer: I own nothing! Everything belongs to JKR.

Chapter 3

"What?" I asked. The bird was pecking me, and after examining it I realized it had blood on it's wing, but no injuries of its own. "Fuck," I breathed. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

I had no choice but to Apparate into Potter's bedroom.

The scene before me was unbelievable. Potter was slumped against the bed, sitting on the floor. His left wrist was bleeding profusely, and in his right hand he still clutched the razor.

"Harry," I said as I went over to him.

"I didn't mean to, I just went to deep," he gasped out.

"I know," I said. I muttered a spell to stitch his wrist together. The bleeding stopped immediately. I cleaned up all the blood on the floor and checked his pulse. It was thready, weak, and slow. We had to get out of here. "We have to go, okay Harry? Do you think you can handle a Portkey?"

"You are calling me Harry," he muttered. He swallowed hard and his head rolled ack on his neck, resting on the edge of the bed.

I guess I had, but that was not really the point. "I know, but right now we need to go to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts? No, I can't, not like this, no one can know," he answered frantically. "I'm fine, just go." He made a move to get up but I held him down.

"We'll worry about that later." I grabbed a trainer of the floor and pointed my wand at it, murmuring "Portus." "Time to go." I pried the razor out of his hand and held his other hand up to the shoe. He was ice cold and pale. There was a mighty tug, a rush of color, and suddenly we were in my private quarters in Hogwarts. Potter was unconscious on the floor. I scooped him up and put him on the couch. I crossed over to my desk and found a Blood Replenishing Potion, which I poured down his throat. He would probably need another one in a few hours but he was stable. I sent my Patronus to Dumbledore and stared at Harry on the couch.

He was pale, still. I picked up his arms and examined the scars that covered it. Old ones, new ones, and the one that almost killed him. On a hunch I pulled up his shirt. Bruises littered his stomach. I felt along his ribs that were sticking out; one was definitely broken. I lifted him up into a sitting position to look at his back. Welts, from a belt, covered his back. I had a sinking feeling that the abuse did not end there thought.

I felt nauseous. The level of abuse was horrendous, but I also felt sick because I knew all too well how it felt and I would not wish it on anyone. I laid Harry back on the couch. Out of the closet I took a few blankets and bundled him up in them.

"Severus?" I heard Dumbledore call.

"In here," I replied. I felt suddenly exhausted and wanted nothing more for this night to be over

"What happened?" He stared at Harry, who was unconscious on the couch to myself, who I'm sure looked worse for the wear.


	4. Chapter 4

I know my chapters are short, but the reason for that is I hand write everything when I'm at work or when I'm on the train. It takes some time then, for me to type everything into the computer.

Please continue reviewing! I've had over 1000 hits, over 500 visitors—but only 12 reviews! So please review. I am seriously considering abandoning this story.

Disclaimer: I own nothing! It all belongs to JKR.

Chapter 4

"What happened?" He stared at Harry, who was unconscious on the couch to myself, who I'm sure looked worse for the wear.

"Potter has been—ah—cutting himself, and tonight he cut slightly too deep. His owl alerted me to this fact and I Apparated into his room, made a Portkey and brought him here. From what I can see, someone, his uncle I assume, has beating the hell out of him. And…" I didn't know how to voice the rest of my suspicions.

"And what, Severus," Albus said. His voice was almost a whisper.

"And I suspect other abuse as well. Sexual abuse." Saying this outloud made the whole situation seem more real and unreal at the same time. The Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived was being beaten and raped. How did none of us know?

"Jesus," Albus said. He sunk into a chair.

"I don't think He had anything to do with this," I said grimly. "What do we do from here?"

"I'm not quite sure. He will have to go somewhere for the remainder of the summer term. I'm not sure if Headquarters is the best place for him though."

"I don't think so either," I said.

"What if he stayed here?" Albus asked.

""What, at Hogwarts? Who would take care of him?"

"Well, I was thinking of you," he replied.

"With me? Are you kidding? I'm pretty sure the boy hates me. And there is certainly no lost love between us," I said with a laugh. The idea of Potter staying with me was ludicrous.

"Harry needs to learn to trust adults again," he started.

"Yes, but he never trusted me in the first place," I interrupted.

"But after tonight he may feel different. After all, you saw him at his worst. You know his darkest secrets. Moreover you understand his pain," Dumbledore said calmly. I had no response to his last comment. "Would it be too difficult for you? To see someone like this?" he asked. The concern in his voice for me was unnerving. For a while the room was silent other than the clock ticking on the mantle.

"That was a long time ago, Dumbledore," I said finally. "A lifetime ago." I wanted this conversation to be over. I crossed to the other side of the room and stared blankly at the bookshelf.

"Lily helped you," Dumbledore stated simply. "And now her son—"

"Stop." I felt a lump rise in my throat. This had been the thought I had tried to ignore all evening.

"Think how she would feel if she saw her son in this much pain," he continued. Damn him! He knew this was the trump card. I couldn't fault him though, it was true.

"If she was here none of this would be happening." My voice cracked against my will. The guilt that was always there was suddenly overpowering. My cool façade that I had perfected was crumbling, as usual, in front of Dumbledore.

"You can't still blame yourself, Severus." Dumbledore had crossed over to me and put his hand on my shoulder. "The guilt is getting you nowhere. But helping Harry through this, no that would be productive. This isn't your fault, Severus. You didn't rape him. You didn't kill Lily," he said softly.'

"It is though, I burst out. "If she was here none of this would be happening! He wouldn't be—,"I stopped. I had not felt this out of control, this emotional in years. I hated it.

"It's alright to be upset Severus. It's normal," Dumbledore said.

"No it's not alright. I would never want anyone to feel the way he does right now." I realized that my face was damp with hot tears. I hurridlely wiped them away. "Who would do this to a child?" I turned to face Albus, who looked back at me steadily.

"I have never understood it. I cannot fathom doing that," a look of disgust passed over his face, "to a child." I walked back to my chair and sat down. Albus did the same. "Let him stay here tonight. As him what he wants to do in the morning. If he wishes to go to Grimmauld Place, that is fine. He will need to be highly supervised and should start some type of counseling with someone, as soon as possible." I nodded in agreement.

Albus stood and gripped my shoulder, glanced at Harry with a look of pain and anxiety that made my heart constrict unhappily.

"Think about it, Sever. I feel it would be good for the both of you." And with that, he left.


	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter 3

I finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep in the chair across from Harry, who seemed comfortable on the couch. I woke up early in the morning feeling sore and also a migraine setting in. Great. Harry was still asleep, which was to be expected. I had given him quite the cocktail last night.

By the time I got out of the shower the house elves had already laid out breakfast and Harry was stirring on the couch. This is I going to be difficult, and I knew it. He built an entire living around secrecy and lies, and I was about to make him face it all. Harry's eyes opened, and he looked around, confused, until he saw me. Then a look of terror crossed his face.

"Good morning, birthday boy," I said dryly. Fuck. I needed to be nice to him. But that would entail changing how I had treated him for the past five years. "How are you feeling?" There. That sounded nice. Forced, but nice.

"What happened," he said lowly.

"Your owl came and got me. I made a Portkey and brought us to Hogwarts. You're in my rooms."

"Oh my God, " was his only response.

"Potter, you know, if Hedwig hadn't been there you would have died. I'm serious," I said. This is where the conversation was going to start getting hard. I decided to stall for time. "Maybe I should give you another blood replenishing potion. You still look pale."

"Why am I here with you? Why didn't you send me to the Burrow?" he asked, looking up at me.

"In the condition you were in, I thought it best to keep an eye on you myself." I needed to tread carefully here. "But if you would like to leave, that can be arranged. Or you can stay here for awhile." I added this last part as nonchalantly as possible.

"What would I tell them? Oh, hey Ron. I may or may not have—" There was a long pause. I sat down in the seat across from him. "I wasn't trying to kill myself, honest." He looked up at me. The look on his face was one of desperation. "I want you to understand that."

"I do understand," I said slowly. I was not sure how much I should reveal.

"Yeah, right," he said softly. "Why are you even bothering to talk to me, anyway? You hate me.

"I don't hate you, Harry," I said. I just hated your father. I just hate the fact that my behavior ruined your life and killed your mother.

"That's a laugh. You've never even treated me with respect," he said derisively.

"I know, and for that I apologize."

"It's a bit late in the game, don't you think? Now that you only have to deal with me for two more years."

"Better late than never," I offered.

"I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "I still don't understand why you are taking this sudden interest in me, but whatever."

Time to cut to the chase. "Harry, who has been hitting you?" Harry flushed a deep red.

"No one. I'm just dead clumsy, that's all," he said quickly.

"Harry, no one is going to think you are weak or less of a man because your uncle beats you."

"But they will, though. And who can blame them! Me, the 'Boy-Who-Lived', unable to stand up to a Muggle," Harry burst out. He was on his feet now, shouting. "I let him, do all those-things-to me," he said, his voice cracking.

"What things, Harry?" I asked quietly. "Please tell me. Nothing will ever get better if you keep it all inside."

Harry made a sound like someone had punched him in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him.

"He touched me!" Harry yelled. Tears were now streaming down his face. "He made me touch-him." His voice was lower now, his tone that of someone who had completely given up. Harry sunk to the floor, his head in his hands. "And he, and he," His voice broke. Harry was sobbing in earnest now. I kneeled down on the floor across from him.

"Did he rape you, Harry?" I asked gently. He looked up at me. His eyes were tortured. It made me nauseous to see Lily's eyes staring back at me in so much pain. For the first time I became acutely aware that this child, this broken child, was half Lily. Harry met my gaze.

"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, oh God, oh God, he did." Harry had buried his face in his hands again and was rocking back and forth. I did not know what else to do except pull the boy toward me and hold him. At first he was hesitant, but then suddenly he latched on to me, like a child would cling to a favorite toy. Eventually he stopped crying and fell silent. He pulled away from me and sat down on the couch. I moved back to the chair I was previously in.

"What do I do now?" he asked.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello! I apologize for the long break. School, teaching and applying to law school kind of zapped my time. I'm on summer break again so I hope to get some of this story written. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed—I have read them all and they are all helpful. It is crazy to think that other people are reading what I am writing.

As always, I own nothing.

Chapter 6

"What do I do now?" he asked.

"Well, that is really up to you," I replied. "Whatever you feel comfortable with can be arranged."

"I want to be alone," he said, looking at the floor.

"Yes, well, you're sixteen and almost died, so I don't think that's really an option at the moment, Potter," I said shortly. "You need to be supervised, that much is quite clear and not up for discussion." Potter glared at me. "What were you expecting?"

"Nothing less, I suppose," he snapped. "I'll tell you what I can't handle, being surrounded by people constantly asking me questions and making me eat. So that nixes The Burrow."

"That's fine. And speaking of eating, it's lunchtime. " I gestured to the tray of sandwiches and plate of fruit that was sitting on the small table in the corner. My real reason for bringing up food was to see what his reaction was to food.

"I'm not hungry," he said quickly. This was, unfortunately, just what I expected. The self-abuse did not just end with the self-injury, but extended into an eating disorder.

"You need to eat. You almost bled to death last night, and while potions are helpful, there is nothing as good for you as real food," I said gently. Frankly, I was beginning to doubt that I had the ability to help him. Physical and sexual abuse combined with self-injury and an eating disorder? I needed a shrink myself, what the hell kind of support could I possibly provide? I got up and brought the food over to the couch. I took a sandwich and started eating it, hoping to take some of the pressure off of the situation. Harry looked anxiously at the food.

"I'm really not all that hungry, I ate a really big dinner-," he started, but I interrupted him.

"When, six months ago? You're emaciated," I said. Harry flushed, and I regretted my smartass remark. "I'm sorry," I said with a sigh. He looked at me with his eyes, and all I could think of was Lily…

"Just eat a little something, Sev," she said. "Some toast, it doesn't even have butter on it, just jam."

"But how do you know it doesn't have butter on it from whoever made the toast?" I said frantically. Because butter means fat, thick globs of it going in my body, wrapping around everything, plumping me out into greasy abundance. Fat, stupid, disgusting, body. Out of control body, growing and growing.

"I made the toast, Sev, it doesn't have butter," she said patiently. "I promise."

"Sir?" a voice asked me. I shook my head, staring into Lily's eyes. "Sir I said, what kind of sandwiches are these?"

Oh. I was not seventeen. I was…well, old. And Lily was dead. The eyes belonged to her son, not her.

"Sorry. I must have spaced out. I didn't get much sleep last night and have a headache," I said. "And they're turkey or roast beef. " Lily was so patient with me, and I was twice as irritating as Potter was being. He took a sandwich and gingerly took a bite. Just then, there was a knock at the door and Dumbledore walked in. The look of relief on Harry's face at not having to eat was clear. However, the look of relief was soon replaced by one of overwhelming anxiety once Harry realized Dumbledore being here meant that Dumbledore knew what happened last night.

"Don't think this means you're done eating," I said warningly. "Hello Headmaster."

"Hello Severus, Harry," he said, looking at me quizzically. "How are things going?"

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	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

I am so sorry for the lack of updates over the years. I have always thought about this story and where I would like it to go, but I have been busy with my real life, which is unfortunately not conducive to writing fanfic. But here's a new chapter, I hope you guys like it! Thank you for all of the reviews over the years, I truly do appreciate it. Please read and review, it makes me hopeful that someone actually likes this!

For this story to work, obviously there is going to be some OOC, but I've tried to stick to how I think the characters would act as much as possible.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

"Don't think this means you're done eating," I said warningly. "Hello Headmaster."

"Hello Severus, Harry," he said, looking at me quizzically. "How are things going?"

"We were just having lunch," I said. "Care to join us?" I hoped he would say yes. Perhaps if we were all eating Harry would feel less nervous.

"While my favorite sandwich is, of course, Nutella and banana," Dumbledore stated, while I gagged inwardly just thinking of this, "I would be delighted." He sat down at the table and picked up a sandwich. I joined him and started eating as well. Harry seemed to be focusing intently on the grooves in the table.

"Harry and I were just discussing where he would stay for the remainder of the summer," I tried to say lightly. "I mentioned the Burrow, Grimmauld Place or here as plausible options, but obviously the choice is yours, Harry." I had handled many stressful, awkward situations over the years; situations where people's lives were on the line, where the Cruciatus Curse was freely used, but this little lunch was definitely up there in terms of bizarre and uncomfortable meetings.

Harry had finally looked up. I looked pointedly at his sandwich until he took another bite. Good.

"Yes, I think we can all agree that returning to…," Dumbledore was clearly trying to choose his words as tactfully as possible, "returning to your relatives home right now is off the table." Harry looked at him suddenly.

"Do you mean that?" Harry asked. His voice was low. "Do you promise that I don't have to go back there? Because I'm tired of being deluded and lied to." He looked down again. "Sir," he added as an afterthought.

"Harry, I am sorry. I need to tell you how sorry, how unbelievably sorry I am that any harm came your way. And that I am incredibly sorry that I placed you in a place that you were hurt so horribly. Saying I did it for your own protection does not change what happened to you, it certainly does not justify what I did to you over the years," Dumbledore said. He swallowed hard. I knew how fond he was of Harry, I knew how angry he was and how deep his guilt ran. Because we shared the same anger and guilt. Except Dumbledore wanted to save the entire world, and I just wanted to save one woman.

Harry squirmed in his chair, obviously uncomfortable with this conversation. "It's not a big deal, really, nothing happened, I was just being-," Harry started.

"Stop. It is a big deal, and things did happen, and you weren't 'being' anything," Dumbledore said. "I understand if you aren't willing to talk about everything right now, or if you never want to talk to me about it. But I want you to be able to talk to someone. I can't fix what happened, but I can try to help you now." Harry continued staring at the table.

"With all due respect, sir," Harry said, "you haven't really answered my question. Do I have to go back there?" The hint of panic in his voice was audible.

"Not this summer. I can't honestly answer what will happen for the summers to come, but I promise you Harry," at this Harry looked Dumbledore straight in the eye, "I promise you that I will never let that man lay a finger on you again." Harry held his gaze before nodding and dropping his eyes back down.

Alright. Harry looked ready to collapse, from nerves and exhaustion, and I knew the conversation needed to wrap up. "Over the next few days," I offered, "Potter could stay here until he figures out what he would like to do and where he would like to go." This was the offer Dumbledore wanted me to make. I couldn't not. It didn't matter if I wanted to or not. If I even could or not.

Harry nodded. "Thanks," he whispered.

"Great," Dumbledore said with more gusto. "The sandwich was wonderful, Severus. Harry, I recommend the roast beef next time." He stood to leave, and I rose with him.

"I'll see you out, sir." I said. Harry didn't say anything. I stepped out into the hallway with Dumbledore. "He told me his uncle raped him," I said quietly.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sighed before opening them. "It is as we suspected, then." I gave a curt nod in response. "Thank you, Severus. For letting him stay with you, and for being so kind to him." I offered no reaction.

"I will keep you posted on what he decides and also if he comes forward with anything else." I hesitated a moment before continuing. "Have you contacted Lupin? Harry hasn't asked for him specifically."

"Let's let him decide if he wants to tell him. I'd like to wait for him to feel better before he finds out anyway," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. I nodded. "If you ever need me, you know how to reach me," Dumbledore said before walking towards his office. "Especially if either of you suddenly desire a Nutella sandwich."

Yeah right, I thought. And then I closed the door to face Harry.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Harry stared at me from his seat at the table. Sunlight streamed in through the window panes, highlighting how pale and thin he was.

"We're going to need to go to hospital wing to have Madame Pomfrey get a look at you," I said. I knew quite a bit about magical healing, but nowhere near as much as Pomfrey. Harry glared at me and opened his mouth to answer, but I cut him off. "Look, I'm a proficient battlefield healer, that's about it. In an emergency I can patch things up until a real healer is on the scene. That's where we are. I patched you up, and now we need a real healer."

"But why Pomfrey," he yelled. "If I go to Pomfrey, then she will know everything and then soon enough the whole school will know. You know there's no such thing as confidential here!"

The boy had a point. But he couldn't not see a healer, and I wanted to make sure his physical injuries weren't worse than they appeared. "What about St. Mungo's then," I offered. "You don't know anyone there, it might be easier to be examined by a stranger right now." Pomfrey was a professional, but Harry would be hyper-alert, looking for any signs of pity or sadness that he could internalize as weakness. A stranger might be better equipped at keeping a straight face.

He snorted. "Are you kidding, that's just about as good as going to The Daily Prophet. I can already see the headlines." His faced flushed with shame.

"Okay, well that leaves us back at Pomfrey. We have to get a medical healer to look at you, Potter, and pronto. You'll feel better. One of your ribs is definitely broken, and that can't be comfortable." A shadow of something passed over his face, but I didn't press it. Right now the most important thing was making getting his body physically set.

"No!" Harry shouted. "Do you know what will happen when the whole school finds out? Malfoy and that lot will call me a faggot and a pussy and try to jump me more than they already do. And one of them will try to do what my uncle's done to me. They always do. Bullies in the neighborhood, bullies at school, they can smell the fear on you, tell that you've been ruined. So no. I'm not going to Pomfrey or St. Mungo's. You fix the rib, or no one does." Harry had stood up from the table and was facing me, his arms crossed defiantly across his chest.

"We'll make up a lie about the ribs," I suggested, but Harry snorted.

"This isn't my first broken fucking rib. I don't give a SHIT about the broken ribs. I've been getting beaten to a pulp since I can remember and never seen a doctor about any of it and I've made it this far. If you don't fix the rib then no one is," he snapped. "I'm not having the whole world find out how disgusting I am because of one stupid fucking mistake, because my owl thought I was dying and you were outside."

"Language, Potter, I will not be spoken to in that tone in my rooms," I said icily. Potter was fast becoming hysterical. "Now sit down and we can talk about this like civilized wizards and not two drunks in a pub." If the abuse had been going on for years, that was all the more reason to see Pomfrey, or someone equally skilled, but this was probably a battle I would not win today.

Harry sunk into the chair, and covered his face with a shaking hand. "I think I'm cracking up," he said lowly.

"You're not cracking up," I lied. Frankly, Harry seemed like he was having some sort of nervous breakdown but I didn't want to send him round the twist with that news. "And you're not disgusting. "

Harry moaned. "I can't STOP. I can't stop remembering and feeling and seeing everything over and over again in my mind. I used to be able to put it away, put everything in its own section so it was like it wasn't even happening to me. So at Hogwarts I could be one person and with the Dursley's I could be another and with my friends another. Someone else was an orphan, someone else was beaten and raped and starved. Someone else was responsible for a kid dying. Someone else saw their godfather die. Now it's me. It's all I can think about, over and over again." Harry was crying again. "I can't stop crying,and I never cried before. Never. And the only thing that makes me stop crying is cutting." He gave a humorless chuckle. "I mean, it's ridiculous. Everyone who has died for me, and here I am. I should be dead. I should never have been born. Think about all of the people who would be alive if I was dead." Harry was stopping crying which was scarier than the tears. "How should I do it?" he whispered. "I could hang myself. Poison. Drowning. Slit my wrists." He looked up at me and met my eyes. "I wish I was dead," he said.

"I know you do," I said. This wasn't the first suicidal teen in my rooms, and it wouldn't be the last. "Well I'm guessing we're done with lunch." I pitched our half eaten sandwiches and saved the rest. Harry stared at me with tired eyes. I washed my hands and said "I have a list from the scan I performed last night which detailed all of your physical injuries. I'll fix what I can." I turned and faced him. He swallowed and nodded.

"Thank you," he said thickly.

I sat back down at the table and mentally thought of potions and salves I already had, and which spells would work the best. Harry simply stared out the window. "I need to go to my supply room," I said. Harry looked at me but was silent. "You're coming with." Silently we walked out of my rooms and into the potions lab. I took what we would need, giving some vials to Harry.

Once back in my rooms, I spread out all of the items that would be necessary. "I'm going to need you to take off your shirt and probably your pants," I said gently. I knew this would upset him. Harry silently stripped down to his underwear. All of the fight seemed to have gone out of him.

In the daylight, the damage looked even worse than it had the night before. Bruises covered his back, stomach, arms and legs, and self-inflicted cuts extended up his arms and down his legs. He looked emaciated. Glancing at the list of injuries, I started first by repairing the ribs, and putting a healing cream on all of the bruises and cuts.

"Don't take away my cuts," Harry said suddenly. "I don't want those to go away."

"How can you do that to yourself Sev? How can you hurt yourself? Don't you know how much I care about you?" I remembered Lily's voice in such detail. I remembered hiding my face in the shadow of hallway.

"This way the outside matches the inside. This way it feels as bad as it does on the inside," I had whispered. I remembered crying, I remembered how her care and love for me felt like it actually going to break my heart, because how could anyone love me.

I shook my head, trying to clear it of the memories. "Alright Harry," I said with a curt nod. "Thanks to your little suicidal outburst earlier this afternoon, I'm going to have to watch you round the clock," I said as I applied the cream to his back, which looked particularly nasty. "Also I think your kidneys are a little bruised from I'm guessing repeated kicks to your back, and I've tried to fix that as best as possible, but you'll need to take a potion for a few days."

"What do you mean watched," Harry asked.

"I mean I will be watching you. I mean your living quarters will be stripped of anything you could possibly use to harm yourself, and believe me, I've thought of everything you could use. I mean you will be eating three meals every day, and I will be watching to make sure you don't purge after eating. I mean you will not be doing anything without supervision. That," I said as I finished up applying the cream, "is what I mean, Potter."

"Whatever," he said sullenly. "I want Lupin."

"After the full moon," I said. "You can put your clothes back on. And drink this," I said and handed him a potion. He drank it without complaint. "It's time for dinner," I said, and we sat down at the table newly laden with food from the house elves and silently picked at our food.


End file.

Harry Potter, Angst