No Simple Highway

Chapter Two: Fallout

Harry woke up feeling like total crap, with a pounding head and ferocious thirst. He stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, where he leaned over the sink, cupping his hands and drinking water until he felt a little less parched. Every time he moved his head it hurt. He slowly walked back to his bed, with Seamus, Dean, and Ron all sniggering at Harry's hangover. Neville ignored them.

"Looking good, mate," said Ron. "Enjoy yourself last night?" Ron's sarcasm wasn't welcome. Harry was in no mood for it.

"Well, I have three weeks of detention with Snape starting tonight, so it wasn't the good time I was hoping for," Harry answered curtly. He didn't want to fight with Ron and Hermione, he just wanted space. Interactions like these with Ron hurt him a little.

"Oi, that sucks!" Ron chuckled and left the dorm. It did suck. He'd never had a hangover before, but Harry hoped that by evening it would be a little better. He had no idea what to expect.

He felt terrible all day. The best idea he could think of was to sleep, and skived off his afternoon classes to go back to bed. No one noticed or woke him up, but he managed to get down to the Great Hall in time for dinner. Eating and drinking made him feel stronger, and he knew he'd need his strength for detention.

Knocking on Snape's office door, he frowned at the idea of spending time with the man, especially since Harry could barely control his emotions. Odds were good he'd be in more trouble by the end of the evening, but he didn't care.

The door opened and Snape looked down at Harry, sneering.

"Potter," he said. "Come in and have a seat."

Harry sat in a chair facing Snape's desk and crossed his legs in front of him. He couldn't believe how relaxed he felt, not at all intimidated by the greasy git. Snape raised his eyebrow at Harry as he sat down, but didn't comment on the boy's casual posture.

"The Headmaster and I have discussed your drunken escapade," Snape drawled. "He was quite disappointed. He feels that my punishment for you is appropriate considering your misdeeds."

Harry shrugged. Was the Headmaster supposed to be pleased about it? Harry wasn't an idiot; he knew that he'd screwed up.

"You no longer care what Professor Dumbledore thinks, Potter?" Snape asked, keeping his expression neutral. "After all, you are the boy-who-lived, and he blatantly favors you."

"I really don't care what anyone thinks, Professor." Harry looked him right in the eyes.

"Really," said Snape. "Yes, I've noticed that your fan club has thinned out considerably."

Snape rose quickly from his chair. "Stand up and follow me, I have a thoroughly unpleasant task for you this evening."

Harry followed Snape into the Potions classroom and sat at a table in the front. He was presented with a knife and pile of some foul sea creature. Pickling jars were ready for him to pack full with the chopped bits. The odor was nearly unbearable, and it was obvious this task had been chosen due to Snape's knowledge that Harry would be feeling queasy. He was careful to show no emotion, and began chopping while Snape took a seat at his desk and started grading essays.

He didn't bother to ask what it was that he was chopping, but it appeared to be some sort of octopus. It was rubbery and difficult to cut. After about an hour, Harry's hand began to cramp up, and he started shaking it out. Getting back to work, his mind wandered, and he cut a deep gash into his hand by accident. He glanced up, but Snape hadn't seen his slip. Harry stared at his palm and watched it bleed. It didn't hurt, but he wasn't sure it would be a good idea to get blood all over the chopped octopus. Snape noticed that the steady sound of chopping had ceased.

"Potter!" he snapped. "Have you cut yourself? Why are you just standing there like an idiot? Get over here so I can heal the wound."

Harry shrugged and shuffled his feet as he walked up to the front of the room.

"You will stop shrugging and answer when you are spoken to," said Snape. "I will not tolerate this continued disrespect!"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. It occurred to him that Snape's anger was escalating, but Harry wasn't getting furious the way he normally would. He was numb. He felt a bit smug about it, because it was usually Harry losing his composure. Perhaps tomorrow night, with the hangover gone, he'd push Snape purposely; just to see what sort of reaction he could get from the man.

His hand healed, Harry returned to chopping for another hour or so, until the task was finished. He was dismissed and wordlessly left the room, heading up to the Tower.

Instead of walking directly through the common room toward the boys' dorm as usual, he took a seat in an empty chair next to Ginny, who was reading. She looked up at him and he smiled. He liked Ginny because she was kind and friendly without looking at him like he was a nutter.

"Hi, Harry," she said, smiling back at him.

"How's first year going?" he asked.

"It's okay," she answered, "I get a little homesick sometimes, but it never lasts long. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he said. "Things have been a bit strained with Ron and Hermione, but I just need some time, you know?"

"It'll all work out, Harry. If you ever need to talk, I'm here," Ginny said, smiling again. Harry thought that Ginny might actually be someone he could talk to, if he ever felt that need.

They settled into their chairs, and Harry felt okay being around the other students. He looked over at Hermione, who was studying, and she gave him a small smile. For the first time this term he didn't feel angry with her, and he smiled back. Then he took out a book and tried to read. Since he couldn't focus, he thought about doing some writing. He'd begun a small journal, writing out poems and sometimes notes about how he was feeling. It wasn't something he'd ever been interested in doing, but it was surprisingly enjoyable, especially when he went back and read over what he'd written. Although Harry's marks in school were fairly good, he never saw himself as a good student. Somehow writing made him feel a little better about himself, and since he'd been feeling like rubbish for months, he planned to continue the journal since it brought him a touch of peace.

***

A summons to the Headmaster's office didn't take Harry by surprise the next morning. He figured that eventually Dumbledore would want to talk to him about the drinking incident, and it wasn't going to be pleasant. Harry wasn't going to pretend that nothing was wrong, but he also wasn't going to ask for the man's help. He knew better than to put himself in the position of asking for help from an adult. Not one adult had ever followed through for Harry.

Professor Dumbledore motioned for Harry to have a seat in his office, and then sat behind his own large desk.

"Hello, Harry," Dumbledore said, pushing a bowl of sweets forward, his eyes searching Harry's face for answers. "Please, tell me what happened the other evening when Professor Snape found you intoxicated."

"Well, sir, I was drunk," Harry answered. He made no move toward the candy. Instead, he shrugged, a gesture which was quickly become his signature move. "Firewhiskey will do that."

"Did something happen over the summer, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"Sir?" Harry was confused. "I was at the Dursleys' house and then with the Weasleys. I'm not sure what you mean."

"Well, Harry, sometimes when a person feels a need to drink, or find some other way to alter reality, it is because they're in pain. You didn't appear to be in emotional upheaval when you left Hogwarts for the summer holiday, but perhaps I am incorrect in that assumption," said the Headmaster.

Harry leaned back in his chair and gave this some thought. The Headmaster appeared willing to give him a few moments of contemplation. The first thoughts to run through Harry's mind were based in anger - was it a secret that his Muggle family was neglectful and cruel? Did Dumbledore think that it had somehow been a better summer because he'd turned twelve? Should he be celebrating his move from the cupboard to Dudley's second bedroom? Dumbledore knew that Harry had been freed from captivity due to a rescue mission involving the Weasley twins and Ron showing up in Surrey with a flying car. Harry had been writing about those experiences in his journal and knew he was upset on more than one level just from that alone.

As for when he left Hogwarts at the end of the spring term, how could Dumbledore have adequately judged his emotional state? This is something else Harry had written about in his journal. He was nearly killed, along with his two best friends. After a childhood where he was treated like an outcast, as though he were subhuman, he was suddenly involved in the rescue of the Sorcerer's Stone, from a professor taken over by fucking Voldemort, the mass murder responsible for the death of his parents. So, yes, Harry did think it was a little presumptuous for Dumbledore to assume it was all peaches and cream for Harry leaving off for the Dursley home directly after the most terrifying and dangerous experience of his life.

"Harry?" Dumbledore's expression was full of concern.

"Sir, I have no idea how I can talk to you about this right now, truly I don't," Harry said, impassively. "If I even begin to address it I fear I'll need to smash everything in your office. I might need to even strike you, sir, and that doesn't seem like it will solve anything."

Dumbledore took a long, slow breath. "Harry, we will need to talk about this, we must not pretend that there is no issue."

"No offense, Professor, but why bother?" Harry asked, his voice rising in anger. "I think I'll just take my chances and deal with it myself. Thanks for your concern, though."

"I cannot allow you to continue breaking the rules, Harry. Please remember that there will always be consequences for your actions," said the Headmaster.

"Oh, I know all about consequences, yeah?" he spat in anger. "I hate my life! I hate everything about it, and don't pretend like you care, or that you'll help, because you won't. No, I've heard people make promises to me before and it's always complete bollocks! The social workers in my old primary school? We'll help, Harry, we'll see if we can get you new clothes, or enough food, but NO! Nothing ever changed. I'm here and it's the same." Harry stood up and turned to leave.

"Please, Harry." Dumbledore stood and reached out for Harry to look him in the eyes, but Harry refused, shaking his head violently. Harry left the office as quickly as possible and ran down the hallway.

Harry slipped into an empty classroom and slid down to the floor with his back against the wall. He placed his head in his hands and tried to calm himself. It seemed like he should be crying, but he wasn't. He was even more confused than before he'd seen Dumbledore. Instead of simmering in anger, or punching a wall, he took out his journal in a hasty attempt to piece his feelings together. He began taking notes.

Dumbledore - did something happen over the summer? Why escape from my feelings?

It's so obvious. Is he completely daft? Locked in a bedroom? No access to my friends? Treated like a house elf? Rescued by a flying car?

Last term? Is Dumbledore mad? I was nearly killed! Nearly got Ron and Hermione killed!

What is it like to be a regular person? What is it like to have a parent?

I will eventually come of age with no real parent or family member. I have no one who will always be there for me. No one. And you ask what's wrong? Piss off!

Harry put down the journal and wrapped his arms around his knees with his back against the wall. He would stay curled this way until it was time for dinner.

Dumbledore had asked to see Professor Snape in his office after the meeting with Harry, because things were dire, much more so than he'd originally thought.

"Severus, I must ask for a favor, and I fear you will not be able to look past your history with James Potter," said Dumbledore. "But I will ask anyway. I need you to speak to Harry Potter, to understand what is happening with him emotionally. He is in a dark place -"

Snape cut him off. "Yes, who better to assist Potter than someone else who is familiar with being in dark places? I am not going to hold Potter's hand and allow him to cry on my shoulder for you!"

Dumbledore tightened his facial muscles and his eyes grew darker. "He will not speak to me about the pain he is experiencing, but he might speak to you."

"Are you mad, Albus?" Snape nearly laughed. "The boy hates me, and I can't stand him, either. He's an insolent, arrogant little idiot, who has decided to buck authority and drink in order to solve his problems. I won't be a part of this plan of yours."

"Severus, you have the opportunity to see him every evening in detention. Surely you can see your way to speaking with him in a civilized manner," said Dumbledore.

"Sadly, I was planning to start sending him to Filch for detention after tonight, because I have better things to do than spend each evening with Potter." Severus had never meant to suffer through Potter's detentions alone.

"Please, I am asking you for a personal favor," Dumbledore said slowly.

"I will spend this evening with the boy in detention and make a decision concerning his future detentions by the morning," said Severus. He stood, bowed slightly to the Headmaster, and stalked off to the dungeons. He'd be damned if he was going to play therapist to Potter.

***

Since he wasn't spending as much time around his friends, Harry often walked the halls alone between classes. He wasn't concentrating well or paying attention, and was caught off guard when Draco Malfoy ran into him, literally, with Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

"Watch it, Potter," Malfoy spat. He gave Harry a shove and moved to walk past him.

"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry said with eyes full of anger. "Don't touch me."

"Or what?" Malfoy sneered at him. "You have no friends, Potter. You think you can take me on by yourself? Not bloody likely, runt."

Harry gave Malfoy a shove into the wall and kept advancing on him. Goyle grabbed Harry by the elbow and Harry swung around and punched him in the face.

"I'm not afraid of any of you!" he screamed.

"Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall was suddenly pulling Harry and Goyle apart. "What do you think you're doing? Follow me, all four of you!"

The four boys walked with Professor McGonagall into her office, where she proceeded to lay into them. She assigned detentions to Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle for their part and then dismissed them to speak with Harry alone.

"I realize you're having problems, Mr. Potter, but that does not excuse your behavior. You can't keep this up and you definitely cannot strike another student. I'm not sure what to do with you at this point. I think it's best to discuss this with the Headmaster."

"Why, Professor? Can't you just take points, or give me detention?" Harry didn't think that there was much reason to go to Dumbledore. He already knew that Harry was a nutter.

"I loathe taking points from my own House, but yes, ten points from Gryffindor for fighting does seem appropriate. I will hold back on assigning detention since you already have three weeks of detention with Professor Snape. Professor Dumbledore will hear about this incident, you can count on that." She looked angry and disappointed.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," he said.

"You may go," said McGonagall. "Please try to behave for the rest of the day, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. "I will, Professor."

***

Harry sat with Ron and Hermione at dinner, and things were awkward at first, but improved as the meal went on. He didn't want to lose his friends completely, he just wanted space. They seemed to understand where he was coming from, finally, and he was hopeful that things might work out. He wasn't ready to talk to them about the things he was learning about himself from the journal, but he also didn't feel quite as angry with them anymore. He no longer felt like pushing his luck with Snape tonight, especially after the fighting incident earlier that day. Dreading his detention, Harry could hardly bring himself to walk down to the dungeons that evening. He ended up being nearly five minutes late, which was completely unacceptable to Snape.

"I see that you have finally decided to show up, Potter," he snapped. He couldn't imagine how he and Potter would ever be able to connect and talk about anything in a civil manner. However, as a head of house, he had extensive experience dealing with troubled children.

"Sorry, sir," Harry said, placing his school bag on a table.

Severus was surprised to hear an apology from Potter, especially with "sir" added to it. Harry had been so cheeky lately, causing trouble seemingly for fun, that he was caught off guard by the boy's words.

"Sit, Potter." Harry complied and took a seat at the table and Severus looked at him, thoughtfully. "I heard about your incident with Mr. Malfoy and his friends. Striking Mr. Goyle was ill-advised. You're quite fortunate that Professor McGonagall was able to prevent him from thrashing you."

"I can hold my own, sir," Harry replied evenly. "It's not the first time I've had to defend myself from bullies."

Standing in front of Harry, Severus cocked his head. "Do you fight often when you're at home with your relatives?"

Why was Snape talking to him like he cared? He shook his head. "No sir, not often."

Waving his wand toward the corner, Severus conjured a bucket of soapy water and a brush. "This evening you will scrub the floor of this classroom on your hands and knees. Ensure you are thorough, as you will repeat the job if necessary."

Harry stood heavily and trudged over to the corner to scrub. He started scraping the brush back and forth, and waited for Snape to walk away. Snape was watching him work, and it felt like his eyes were burning into Harry. A sudden wave of anger washed over him and he threw the brush against the wall with all his might.

"What?" Harry snarled at Snape. "Why are you watching me?"

Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry and spoke in a smooth, slow tone. "If you ever throw anything in my classroom, or speak to me in that tone again, you will be a very sorry young man, Potter. Pick up that brush and get back to work. You will have no more chances."

Harry took a deep breath and stared at the floor. He wasn't sure he could stay in the room with Snape. He felt like he was going to explode. In fact, the feeling was so overpowering that he balled up his fist and punched the stone floor, twice. A sharp pain shot through his hand and he clenched his teeth.

"Potter! Get yourself under control, now." Severus was concerned, but gave no visible reaction. Only a few students had ever behaved like this in front of him. It simply didn't happen, and the fact that Potter was this angry led him to believe that Dumbledore was correct. The boy truly was losing control, and pain was causing this behavior.

Harry's breathing was rough, and he had braced himself for Snape to go off on him, but it hadn't happened. Slowly, he got up, walked over to the brush and picked it up. He returned to the spot he'd been cleaning and started again. Relief washed over him as Snape turned and walked over to his desk. As he scrubbed the floor he concentrated on the back and forth motion of the brush and began to calm down. In fact, the work was hypnotic, and Harry found himself lost in thought. Why was Snape giving him a break? He'd yelled at the man and thrown a scrub brush at the wall!

Sitting at his desk, Severus watched Harry get control over his emotions and calm down. It was good to see that the boy was able to do so, as it showed he had some level of awareness that he needed to regain his composure. Severus decided he would make an attempt to help Potter, even though it would no doubt be irritating and time-consuming. At twelve, Potter was young for this type of behavior, especially his angry outbursts. He'd always assumed Potter had enjoyed a good life with his family, as well as at Hogwarts, but something in the way the boy currently carried himself was alarming. Severus had been able to keep his own troubled emotions in check at age twelve, but Potter was a different type of child, hotheaded and foolish. This lack of emotional regulation might actually make it easier to get the boy talking, and the sooner this task was handled, the better.