Sin Laced Sweet Infatuation

Sin Laced Sweet Infatuation

In the chest, there’s an emptiness
Heartbeats ring in hollow halls
And the patient says he’s feeling fine
But that’s just the drugs he’s on

And you cry, trying to find a voice
That reminds you of your own
But every word that passes from your lips
Is counterfeit, illegitimate

- Firewater (haha, they’re an awesome band, amazing, amazing songs. If you haven’t heard of them, check them out, they rock my world.)

Chapter 3- Smothered Emotion

Harry was staring dismally into his plate of scrambled eggs, not hungry, and not noticing as Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances over the top of his head. Even if he had noticed, he would have been nothing but exasperated. They were always anxious about him and it seemed they did nothing but exchange worried glances.

“Erm... Harry?” Hermione began in a tight voice.

Harry didn’t bother to look up. “Yes?”

“We uh- I mean, me and Ron that is, we’ve been a bit worried about you lately.”

Harry spoke darkly to his scrambled eggs, “What else is new?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh.”

There was a slightly awkward pause, then Ron decided to try.

“Is there something wrong Harry?”

Harry’s answer was curt. “No.”

Ron hurried on, sounding rather nervous. “You see, because if there was anything wrong Hermione and I’d be glad to help.”

Harry’s patience was growing short and he spoke through clenched teeth. “Really Ron, I’m fine.”

“Well, if you’re sure...”

“Yes,” Harry bit out, “quite sure.”

“Well all right.”

Heavy silence fell upon the small group, and for a moment Harry felt sorry for his two close friends. He’d been nothing short of miserable the past few weeks, and he felt bad about how horrid he’d been to them. You couldn’t blame them for being worried. As the days progressed Harry just got worse and worse and he felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into a quagmire of gloom.

As breakfast ended and the three shuffled silently out of the great hall Harry realized with a spasm of fear that they had first period with the Slytherins. It was becoming harder and harder to remain calm near Draco. Harry was more and more feeling ready to fling himself out the window or worse still, fling himself into Draco’s arms. Harry could no longer trust himself to say and do the right things and his calm composure was seriously beginning to crack. It was all he could do just to stagger through the day without collapsing with exhaustion from trying to keep his emotions in check. His chest often felt so tight he found it difficult to breathe and he often would place a hand to his heart, just to be reassured by the familiar faint throbbing.

It was in fact now, that Harry was stumbling along the hall drowning in misery when suddenly, his foot caught on something. Harry was completely thrown off balance ad he fell forward sharply, his head connecting with the marble floor with a sickening crack. He lay there for a moment, unable to breath, feeling his mouth swell with blood. Somewhere far away he heard laughter and someone shouting.

With an enormous effort Harry raised his head off the floor and tried to look blearily around him. Everything was sort of slanted and beginning to dissolve into blackness, but what Harry saw made his heart shoot into his throat.

There was Draco, and he seemed to be walking very quickly towards Harry, but the thing that nearly sent Harry into cardiac arrest was the fact that the look on Draco’s face appeared to genuinely concerned.

*What’s going on?* Harry wondered frantically as the worried Draco started to spin round. The blackness was beginning to blur the picture round the edges and Harry wondered whether he was hallucinating. The worried Draco was now almost to Harry and Harry held his breath, frightened that if he breathed so much as a sigh this wonderful dream would end.

But just as the worried Draco was about to stoop down to Harry, he was jarred roughly back and spun into the wall by a furious looking Ron. Harry was about to get up to help Draco when somebody grabbed hold of him and pulled him heavily to his feet.

Hermione’s voice sounded distant in Harry’s ear. “Harry please! You’ve got to stand up.”

Harry swayed slightly and tried to steady himself as he kept his eyes glued to Draco. Draco now looked equally furious, as he put his face inches from Ron’s and began to scream. Harry couldn’t understand what they were saying, so instead he watched.

He watched as shadows of rage clouded Draco’s face., then he watched as Ron hit Draco full on across the cheek. Unable to stop himself, Harry gave a horrified cry of indignation and stumbled forward. Hermione caught his arm though and tightened her grip round his wrist as he began to shake.

Draco’s face cleared for a moment as he paused to wipe blood from his cheek but as he looked up at Ron his features contorted with fury and with a cry of rage he shot forward, arms outstretched. But as he swung, Ron easily sidestepped his blow and Draco staggered forward to fall roughly to the ground.

Ron looked down and began to laugh maliciously, and with a ripple effect the throngs of students that had gathered eagerly to watch began to laugh too. The walls were ringing with laughter and all Harry could do was watch in horror as Draco flinched with each cruel cackle. And then, oh god, it was happening again.

Harry’s chest began to feel tight and his breath dragged as it rose up his throat. His heart felt it may spontaneously combust if he didn’t do something soon, and his arms were shaking so hard Harry was frightened. He was frightened he couldn’t take much more of this, couldn’t take it if ...Harry’s thoughts suddenly froze. His eyes had just fallen on Hermione’s face, and she was looking at him, that look she was giving him... she knew.

Everything inside Harry suddenly stopped, everything within him came to a grinding halt.

Except his mind, it flew about in every direction throwing commands at Harry all at once. But he had to *do* something soon, he couldn’t let her find out, he had to- he would cover it up. That’s what he would do.

With a click Harry regained use of his limbs, and felt himself breathing again. He then did the only thing he could think of; he laughed.

He threw back his head and dug up something horrible inside him, that made the laugh come out malevolent and viciously cruel. He was still aware of Hermione’s gaze latched upon him, unwavering. So he continued to laugh with all the rest, and then he was faintly aware of Ron sidling up and slinging an arm across his shoulders.

He was dizzy with viciousness and began to feel faint as he watched Draco, shrinking back against the wall, a slender stream of blood shining on his cheek.

“C’mon Harry.” Ron spoke buoyantly, he was evidently overjoyed that Harry was laughing so openly. In fact, laughing at all for that matter.

Harry wanted to hit Ron more than anything but he found himself smiling affectedly at him while he spoke, “Hold on a minute.”

And with a strange fluency in his legs, he felt them begin to move and he found himself walking up to Draco and pausing as he towered over him. His shadow fell over Draco’s face, but Draco wouldn’t look up. Streaks of blonde hair quivered on his brow, and Harry felt suddenly sad as he noticed one soaked red with blood.

It was now that in Harry, there erupted a terrible eternal struggle. The sensible bit of him, his mind, was telling him to do one thing, while a voice from somewhere else told him to do another. The edges of his vision were once more beginning to turn black and he fought with all his might to catch hold of the right command.

He was confused, his head was pounding, mind reeling. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to do. So blindly, he reached out and grasped hold of one of the commands. And as he began to lean forward, it seemed the sensible bit of him had won after all.

Harry fixed his face with the most bitter look of distaste and hatred he could salvage, and leaning forward he spat onto the top of Draco’s golden head. Ron gave a whoop of laughter and Harry was about to join him, when the laughter died in his throat and the glower melted from his face.

Draco had tipped his head up to stare mournfully into Harry’s eyes and at that moment, Harry knew he’d made the wrong decision.

He’d never seen Draco Malfoy show emotion, not ever. But now, his face was so pained it hurt Harry to look at it. Every line on his face was twisted with agony and every fleck of blue in his silvery eyes had grown dim and faded to a lifeless frigid gray. His mouth was crumpled into a grim knot of sorrow, and with a slouch of his narrow shoulders, he tore his eyes away from Harry’s and gazed dismally at the ground., Harry’s shadow sliding once more into his eyes.

NO! Harry wanted to scream, no wait! But somehow Ron was leading him away, and Harry could only follow, watching as the darkness swam in and out of his vision. Ron dragged him back to Hermione, but before they could even take one step Harry pitched violently forward, no longer able to fight the blackness, no longer able to keep his legs from crumpling beneath him.

And with a final sigh of despair, he collapsed.

***********

“Shh!! Not so loud!”

“Hermione, he’s not a god damn war victim, he’s just-”

“Shhh, just throw this on him.”

“No way! You do it, I... ”

Heavy silence.

“All right, all right. You don’t have to give me one of those looks of yours. Just give me the damn thing.”

“Ron Weasly! You watch your lang-”

“Aww, shut up Hermione.”

Something icy cold was suddenly dumped gracelessly over Harry’s face and with a yelp Harry shot up.

“You see, I told you it would-”

“Hermione, shut up.”

Harry shook damp hair our of his eyes and found himself looking into the concerned faces of his two friends. “What?”

“Harry you passed out.”

“Yeah, don’t give me this ‘what’ crap.”

“You guys, I hit my head on solid marble. I was just a little dizzy that’s all.” Harry reached up to his forehead and grimaced as fingers roamed over a sizable bump. “How’d I fall anyway?”

Ron snorted, his face growing dark. “Crabbe decided to have a little fun by tripping you. And then Malfoy was about to do his bit as well, but I grabbed him. Ha, he’ll think twice before going near us again.”

Harry was silent and tried to ignore the fact that Hermione was staring at him again. He could feel her eyes boring into the side of his face and he wanted to shake off her searching gaze.

“And that was great when you spit on him Harry. I never would have thought of that one, he looked almost like he was going to cry.” Ron shook with a little after current of laughter. “What a pansy.”

It took everything inside Harry just to keep from splitting Ron’s lip in two. It was agonizingly tempting but he pushed the urge aside and managed a tight lipped smile.

Then Hermione was staring at him again and when she spoke her voice was edged with concern. “Harry, seriously though. I think we’d better take you to the hospital wing, that bump really doesn’t look good.”

“Hermione! We’ve got potions next. There’s no way we’re going to be late to-”

“Well don’t worry about it, we all ready are. We might as well have an excuse. Come on.” Ron heaved him to his feet, and held him beneath the arms to make sure he didn’t plummet to the floor once more.

Harry spoke through clenched teeth, “Ron I’m fine-”

“No you’re not,” came the rather brusque reply.

So Harry was led through the corridors and managed to trip up a number of staircases until they came to the door of the hospital wing. But before they hauled Harry inside, Ron paused and he and Hermione stepped to the side and began speaking in frantic whispers.

Harry stared very hard at the wall, trying to appear like he wasn’t listening, and strained his ears as hard as he could. He managed to catch some of the main bits.

“...maybe now we can actually find out what’s wrong with him. I mean, what’s *really* wrong with him.”

“I know, it worries me how he’s been. He’s always-” Harry didn’t catch the rest of that bit, but then there was, “...we’ll have to ask Madame Pomfrey if....”

Shit. Harry didn’t want her breathing down his neck. His life was awful enough as it was. If he had her to worry about on top of everything else... he just may not live to see his 17th year of life. All though his friends may have cared a lot, Harry just wished occasionally that they’d lay off. It ended up being one big headache. Now this meant Harry would have to dig around inside himself for some bit of happiness to plaster on his face. He needed to appear cheerful and healthy, in order to withstand Madame Pomfrey’s rigorous prying.

Ron and Hermione seemed to have finished their discussion and were now rapping briskly at the door. There were some muffled thumps then the door swung open to reveal a breathless Madame Pomfrey. Her face fell as she noticed who it was. “Oh dear, not you three again. Can’t you hold off on getting yourself into messes just this once? It’s the height of the cold season and I’ve got flu patients up to my ears, I really-”

“Please,” Hermione began, seizing Madame Pomfrey’s hand and putting on her most responsible face, “Harry needs your help.”

“Yes,” Ron added, trying to look very distressed, “badly.”

Madame Pomfrey was beginning to look cross, “Then why are all the rest of you here? Hmm?” She peered at them skeptically over the rims of her spectacles.

“Well, you see,” Hermione began, taking her by the arm and leading her out of Harry’s range of hearing.

That was it, if Hermione got a word with her Harry was doomed. He had to stop his once and for all. “Actually,” said Harry, stepping forward. “It’s my head.”

“Your head?”

“Yeah, I uh, tripped and I got this nasty bump.” Harry pointed to his forehead, “Banged my head on the marble floor. Just a bit dizzy...”

Madame Pomfrey bustled forward to examine the patient, all frowns and consternating looks. She gazed at it, tight lipped. “How’s your vision?”

“It was a little fuzzy before but now I’m all right.”

“Mmmhmm.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“And does it still hurt?”

“Uh... just a little.”

“I see.” She pursed her lips and stared at him crossly, as if deciding something. “I’ll be right back. Don’t any of you touch anything.”

She hurried away, and the minute she left Ron and Hermione broke once more into urgent whispers. “You were supposed to talk to her!”

“I tried didn’t I?”

“Well next time try harder!”

“I will, it’s just-”

Madame Pomfrey bustled back into the room holding a funny looking box and the two immediately broke apart. She held the box up to Harry’s face and told him sternly to “Close your eyes.”

Harry did so.

She spoke a string of strange words and there was an enormous puff of bright purple smoke. Harry coughed and she hurried out of the room once more. She returned several moments later, “You’re going to be fine Potter. That’s quite a nasty bump, but there’s no permanent damage. You might as well hurry along to class and stop wasting my time.”

Nobody moved. Except for Harry. He was at the door like lightening. “C’mon guys. We’d better go.”

Ron threw Hermione a look and gave her a little shove in the direction of Madame Pomfrey. Hermione cleared her throat, looking anxious. “Erm... Madame Pomfrey? We uh, wondered if we could ask you something.”

There was a long exasperated sigh. “Just make it quick, I haven’t got all day.”

Hermione was at her side in an instant speaking in hushed tones.

“Hermione,” Harry tried to step forward but Ron put a hand on his arm, holding him back.

After several moments, Madame Pomfrey’s brow knitted into (if possible) deeper concern and she began to nod along with what Hermione said.

When Hermione finally ran down, Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips thoughtfully and walked briskly towards Harry her eyes narrowed into two pondering slits. “I’ll take a look at him. So depression, is that right Potter?”

Harry tried to fix his face with a look of utter shock. “What?! That’s not true at all, I-”

“Ah yes, one of the first symptoms is denial.” She was now circling Harry, examining him in that irritating way over the tops of her spectacles. “This one’s always been a bit too thin,” she went on prodding him in the stomach.

“Hey!” Harry gasped, grasping his stomach and taking a step backward. “I’m fine! Would you just-”

“Yes but you see he’s even thinner than ever,” added Hermione stepping forward, “Take a look at his arm.”

Madame Pomfrey seized it, and Harry tried to shove her away but she held fast and pushed up his sleeve to peer at it scrutinizingly.

“See the way the bone sticks out in his wrist,” Hermione pointed anxiously.

“Mmm,” she clucked her tongue in distaste, “Not eating properly is another strong sign...”

“Will you lay off?” Harry cried, snatching his hand away.

Madame Pomfrey ignored him, but straightened up to gaze him piercingly in the eye. “What is it then?” She inquired sharply, “What’s wrong?”

Harry realized quickly that he had to regain his composure, if he was to convince her that he was in fact, normal. He took several calming breaths and pushed back the strong urge to turn and sprint out the door. He swallowed thickly and tried a polite smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong with your face Potter?”

The smile was becoming difficult to hold, but Harry pasted it there, unwavering. “Nothing.”

“You look like you’ve swallowed a skrewt Potter.”

Harry felt his face might crack, “I’m absolutely fine.”

“Smile for me Potter.”

Harry widened the face splitting grin, his patience thinning. He didn’t realize that all he was doing was stretching the corners of his mouth in a sort of sickened grimace.

“You see, he can’t even smile properly anymore.”

“Mmmhmm. I think I have something for him. Stay there Potter.”

She disappeared for a moment and Harry threw Ron and Hermione the absolute coldest look he could manage. The very fires of hell would have frozen over with that look. Hermione smiled weakly as Ron stared at his feet looking guilty.

She returned a moment later with a steaming, frothing cup. It was a warm golden color and it glittered like a cup of liquid sunshine.

She thrust it into Harry’s hand. “Drink this,” she told him pointedly. “It will help you... smile easier.”

Harry put on his most winning smile, “Actually, I’d rather shove it up my-”

“Harry!” Hermione broke him off in a high voice, “I think we’d better run along now. We’ve taken enough of Madame Pomfrey’s time.”

“Keep the cup.” She told them darkly before shooing them out the door. Before she slammed it shut, she a paused to hiss something into Hermione’s ear. Hermione nodded shortly and then she vanished, shutting the door with a resounding bang.

“Well we’d better hurry to potions. Snape’s never happy to see us at all, none of the less-” she paused to look at her watch, “twenty minutes late.”

Ron nodded weakly and Harry said nothing, continuing to glower darkly at his feet.

They walked in silence for several moments and there seemed an awkward tension in the air, before Hermione burst out, “Harry you really should drink your potion.”

Harry abruptly stopped walking and turned to Hermione, once more plastering the rehearsed smile to his face.

He opened his mouth to say something but before he could speak, Hermione drew away with a shudder. “Oh Harry, don’t do that. It’s really quite frightening.”

Harry let the fixed grin fall from his face and scowled bitterly. “Fine.” He snapped, then he began walking so quickly that they had to jog to keep up with him.

“Harry!” Hermione puffed, “Couldn’t we slow down just a little?”

“You said we couldn’t be late.” Then he broke into an almost run so that he reached the potions hallway in moments and had to wait for Hermione and Ron to catch up.

As he waited, he took the cup of dancing golden liquid and raised it cautiously to his lips.

The minute it touched his tongue, Harry’s mouth was flooded with a rich, smooth flavor and Harry’s head was filled with images of lazy summer days and laughter and-

Harry spat it out almost immediately, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand with disgust. He didn’t need some sort of canned happiness to boost his spirits. Sickening really.

He poured the rest into one of the flamed brackets on the wall. The flame sizzled strangely for a moment, before bursting into a dazzling rainbow spectrum and leaping halfway up the wall. It then made a small explosion, spattering the wall in rainbow drops.

“Ugh. Glad I didn’t swallow that.”

It was at that moment that Ron and Hermione came wheezing down the corridor and Snape’s head shot round the door.

“What was that noise?” He spat. His eyes narrowed as his gaze fell on his three least favorite students. His voice dripped with distaste, “And why are you three late to my class?”

Hermione, ever bold, stepped forward and tossed her head haughtily. “We have perfect reason to be late. Harry was in the hospital wing.”

“Well isn’t he always.” Snape snapped. He eyed him maliciously, “What’s wrong with you this time Potter? Another flaw in you because of your parent’s bad breeding?”

His eyes glittered triumphantly as the Slytherins erupted with laughter. All save one, and that was because his chair was empty. Harry’s swell of anger was momentarily forgotten as his eyes fell on Draco’s empty seat.

He gazed at it morosely, feeling sorrow rise in him, inevitable and throbbing passionately. Harry’s eyes grew dark and shadowed as he began to fall into another of his pained trances.

Hermione’s face flickered with worry as she recognized the faraway look seep into Harry’s eyes. He was slipping away from them, every day sinking deeper and deeper into his enigmatic, yet strangely powerful pool of despair.

Snape stepped forward, his stance noticeably menacing. “Didn’t you hear me Potter?” he growled.

Harry stayed silent, he didn’t want to fight. He was too tired.

Snape’s eyes flashed dangerously, “I said, didn’t you hear me Potter?” His voice had gotten very low and each syllable was enunciated with impending deliberance. He circled Harry, eyeing him closely, the way a tiger crouches by his prey before pouncing.

Harry knew he was aching for a fight, but he wouldn’t give it to him, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

It was difficult though. The anger was beginning to boil, beginning to writhe restlessly in the pit of his stomach. After all that had happened today Harry was dying to nail somebody right between the eyes.

Ron and Hermione hung back warily, sensing Harry’s restraint was beginning to wear dangerously thin. There was a ripple of unspoken hostility pulsating from Harry’s direction; it seemed to emanate from him like some shimmering invisible wave of heat. Hermione watched him through large apprehensive eyes fearing his thin facade of equanimity would soon fall away.

While Ron and Hermione watched on edge, the class, on the other hand, was absolutely enthralled. They were all bent eagerly forward in their seats, holding their breath. This was better than the movies or any play they’d seen acted out, *this* was live action.

“Potter you are treading on dangerous ground. I advise you to act carefully. When I ask you a question, you answer. Is that clear?”

A pregnant pause.

“Is it?” His face leered uncomfortably close, eyes drilling into Harry’s with such intensity he felt forced to take a step back.

“Yes.”

A delicate smile curled Snape’s lips. He’d gotten what he wanted. He had heard the edge of agitation in Harry’s voice.

Harry tried to appear calm, unfazed. But the tide of anger was now burning in his throat. He couldn’t stand to have Snape insult his parents, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from opening his mouth.

“Well then I would advise you to take care of your little problems outside my class. The fact that such trash accidentally mixed to create filth like you is irrelevant to me. It isn’t my problem.”

The anger was now coursing swiftly through Harry’s veins. Black and infectious, it swept over him like a disease, poisoning his blood with bitter currents of impetuous fury. He felt it jet through him, and he sank into it with weary relief, absolutely sick to death of clasping his emotions in his chest as they kicked at his ribcage, struggling to break free.

He stepped forward, his eyes burning, ignited with the fiery spark that so often gleamed there when his temper seized control.

Ron recognized it, along with the familiar heaving chest and clenched fists. He dropped his head to his hands, unable to watch. Whenever Harry got like this, disaster inevitably followed.

“Well it isn’t my problem that you lead such a miserable wretched existence that you have to go around picking fights with somebody half your age, and that you’re so low you have to attempt to put dirt on the names of people you know were better than you’ll ever be and who saved your pathetic ass when you were in trouble. It isn’t my fault that *you* are so fucked up mentally that you spend half your wasted life messing with mine!” Harry finished his little torrent of rage by twisting his face into a scowl so bitter, even some of the Slytherins backed cautiously into their seats.

Then as Harry’s rage died away, the room fell silent. Flickers of emotion were strung tensely through the air, as the room sank into painfully ominous silence. Nobody even dared breathe as they watched Snape’s face go form a horrible slate gray to a sort of bright mahogany, then back to absolutely no color whatsoever. Even his lips were drained of all complexion as they took on the sallow tinge of dolls in a wax museum.

The only thing moving in the entire room was Harry as he had begun to shake rather violently, his face still screwed up in fury, but his shoulders trembling like mad.

Snape stood frozen for several long minutes, his eyes shadowing slowly to two bottomless chasms of darkness, as different parts of his face began to twitch compulsively. It was like watching a bomb that was about to go off, the oppressive apprehension of just waiting draining the life from every person in the room, knowing that when the time came the explosion would be more horrible than one could imagine.

He stayed like that, absolutely motionless, for several unbearable seconds, and then in one fluid motion, like a cat, he leapt forward and caught hold of Harry’s arm.

The whole class was so startled, they jumped all at once, together, as if it had been rehearsed.

Snape’s eyes burned with such hatred that the very emotions seemed to be bleeding into the space around him, igniting the air with a sort of maniacal, incandescent fire. His lips split into an insane sneer, and he began to hiss vehemently into Harry’s ear.

“How *dare* you? You are the most disgusting piece of filth I’ve ever laid eyes on. You insolence is a disgrace to anything I’ve ever done to help you. And yet, you dare insult me? You are so low, so vile that every time you take a step you infect the ground you walk on, every time you utter a word your breath has tainted the air around you, anyone you touch is now in danger of becoming a walking disease like you. You infest this world like some sort of horrible plague and yet you create for yourself a glittering facade. You have grown so bigheaded from you own ridiculous fame, that you make yourself believe you are better than you really are. You are worthless, you are nothing. Nothing but a big head, a sharp tongue, and a horrible temper that you’ve inherited from your miserable excuse for a father and if you’re not careful you’ll end up with the same fate as him.”

As he spoke, he had clasped his hand round Harry’s wrist and raised him by it, almost off the ground so that he could breathe malevolently in his ear. And as words poured faster and faster from his venomous lips, his grip round Harry’s wrist had grown tighter and tighter, till Harry’s face broke with pain.

His eyes began to dance wickedly and he snarled viciously in Harry’s ear. “Apologize! Apologize at once!”

Harry said nothing, face twisted with pain, but jaw clamped defiantly shut. Snape grew livid, and he gave Harry’s arm an almighty wrench, twisting his wrist almost all the way around. Harry came crashing to his knees with a hollow cry and Snape barked at him, “That’s right Potter, on your knees. Now apologize! Apologize for what you’ve done!”

Harry’s eyes were screwed up to two narrow slits and his breath was coming fast, as it clawed it’s way up his throat. He was struggling, his face crumpled in concentration. And then, he swallowed, and bit his lip so hard that his skin split and a glistening ruby drop, shone there for a moment before sliding down his jaw. He gave a sort of ragged gasp, but riding on that current of air came a word, and though it was barely more than a cough it rang with embittered defiance, and was glorious in it’s simplicity.

“No.”

With a screech of rage, Snape crushed Harry’s wrist in his grasp. There was a horrible crunching sound as bone gave way and Harry fell forward violently, his eyes flooding with pain.

“OUT!” Snape shrieked, pointing to the door, his entire arm trembling with fury, “Out of my sight! I never want to lay eyes on you again, you vermin!” He gave Harry a fierce kick, but stumbled back, shocked as Harry heaved himself off the floor.

Harry managed to climb shakily to his feet, his crushed arm dangling limply by his side. With his last bit of energy he dug around inside himself to find his voice and though it sounded he had a throat stuck with knives, he turned to Snape and stared at him, undaunted, his eyes glinting savagely. “Never, ever talk about my parents that way.”

And with that, he raised his fist and sent it smashing into Snape’s nose in a fabulous roundhouse punch.

Before Snape could wipe the blood from his face and rush forward to bash the living daylights out of Harry (or exceedingly, exceedingly worse) Harry turned, and ran.