No Simple Highway

Chapter 3: Psychology

Curled up in bed, Harry flipped through his journal, reading what he'd written over the past few weeks. He could see progress in his writing from when he'd started, and it seemed to be making a difference in his essays for class. He wished he had a regular muggle-style pen instead of a quill for writing in his journal because it would be much easier for him. He was so surprised about the way detention had gone the night before that he'd written down the whole incident in detail. Snape had been kind to Harry in a way he'd never experienced from the man. He had a funny feeling in his stomach knowing he'd be there with him again that evening, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was odd, and he had no idea what it meant. He'd never had a feeling like that, and no one could ever know because it was unthinkable to want to be in the same room as Snape.

When Ron questioned him about how detention had gone, Harry told him it was rough. Ron started criticizing Snape, calling him a greasy git and a bastard, and for a moment Harry felt like defending the man. It was all so shocking; it was like his world had been turned upside down. But then he'd been feeling that way since the end of last term. He was a completely different person, one who'd been taking refuge in dark feelings and anger. His poetry was rudimentary but it helped him get his feelings out. Often he wrote about hurting himself, and sometimes other people. He worried that Ron might try to read his journal if he left it out, so he kept it with him most of the time or hid it in his trunk under all of his belongings.

"There's a Quidditch match this weekend, Harry," Ron said. "Do you think you might come with us to watch?"

"I might," he answered. "I'll see how I feel on Saturday morning. I've been a bit worn out, and it would be a good chance to have a lie-in. But I'd like to root against Slytherin, that's for sure."

Ron grinned, feeling good that his friend seemed less angry and friendlier. "It's nearly time for dinner," he said. "Do you want to head down to the Great Hall? Hermione's at the library and can meet us down there."

"You know, I'm going to run to the library before dinner," Harry said. "You just reminded me that there's a book I'd like to look for. I'll meet you guys at dinner."

"Okay, mate," Ron snickered. "The library? You've never been one to read for the hell of it. But I'll see you in a bit."

Harry rushed down to the library, and was glad Ron had reminded him it was something he'd wanted to do. He was hoping to find a book on psychology, because it might help him figure out why his moods were so off. He was fairly sure there weren't going to be any Muggle books on the subject, but surely there were wizard psychologists. After all, everyone has problems at times.

Right before time was about to run out and he'd have to leave for dinner he ran into the small section of books about psychology. He quickly looked over the titles and picked out a beginner's book on the topic. The Wizard's Introduction to Psychology sounded perfect. He grabbed it and checked it out of the library. Running down to the Great Hall for dinner he felt pleased with himself for taking the initiative to find such a book. Ron was right, it was a bit out of character for Harry to search out a book to read that wasn't required, but there weren't any people at the school who were experts on it, and he probably wouldn't talk to them about his problems anyway. If he could just fix this on his own everyone might stop looking at him like he was mad.

"Did you find what you were looking for in the library, Harry?" Hermione inquired at dinner. Harry had known she'd be interested in him going to the library.

"Yeah, I did," he answered. Since he didn't want to talk about it he took this opportunity to leave and head for the Potions classroom for detention. Today he was five minutes early instead of late, and he waited to enter until it was time. Snape looked up at him and gestured for him to sit at a table in the front of the room. Harry set his bag down and took a seat. He felt glad to be there, and was so surprised and dismayed at the feeling that he frowned.

"Problem, Potter?" Severus asked.

"No, sir," answered Harry.

Severus took a good look at Harry and wondered about the boy's look of dismay. Had something happened or was he disgusted at the idea of being in the same room with him? It wasn't going to be easy to get Harry talking.

"Mr. Potter, tonight you will scrub down these tables and chairs. Use the bucket and brush next to the table where you're sitting," said Severus as he walked over to his desk and sat down with a pile of essays to grade.

Harry picked up the brush and dipped it into the soapy water. He began scrubbing the first table and his thoughts were racing. Later he'd be able to have a look at the psychology book, once everyone else was asleep. Part of him wanted to say something to Snape, but he was afraid. What would he possibly say? If Snape said something cruel it would be too much to handle. But there was no one else to approach. While he couldn't put his finger on why, he had a feeling that Snape would know how he was feeling, and there was no other person around him that might understand. Harry was either feeling so angry he might burst or so sad he wanted to walk away from his life and disappear. This couldn't wait forever, and if he didn't take some sort of action, something bad might happen. Thoughts sometimes came into his head that he knew were plain crazy, like wanting to smash his head against the wall. He didn't do it, but the urge was there, and it was getting harder to stop it from happening.

"Sir?" Harry stood up straight and looked at Snape.

"Yes, Potter?" Severus responded.

"Um, I don't know." Harry backed off. He was losing his nerve. "Never mind." He bent back over and scrubbed the chair he was working on.

"Ask your question." Was it possible that Potter wanted to discuss his problems? Could it be this simple?

"I don't really know how, sir," replied Harry. His stomach had that odd feeling again. Part of him knew the right thing was to spill his guts, but most of him was terrified.

"You don't know how to ask a question? Just spit it out, Potter." Severus cringed internally, knowing that it wouldn't take much to alienate the boy and prevent any progress from being made. His tone couldn't be too harsh. "It's no secret that you're having problems. Is that what you wish to discuss?"

"Yes," Harry answered in nearly a whisper. He looked down at his hands and felt his face redden. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Severus sat back in his chair, stunned that Potter wanted to talk to him. Why him? Why not someone who'd be sappy and understanding? Like Dumbledore. The idea of Potter discussing problems with his evil Potions Master was inexplicable.

"Sit down," he said to Harry, taking a quick breath.

Harry sat down in a chair and fixed his eyes on a crack in the table. He regretted his actions already; he wasn't prepared for this conversation.

"What do you think is wrong, Potter?" asked Severus.

Harry wanted to have a look at the psychology book. He should have done that first.

"Sir, is it okay if we talk about this tomorrow instead?" Harry felt desperate. He couldn't talk right now, it wasn't okay.

Snape looked at Harry and noted the boy's breathing had quickened and he had a panicked expression. He wanted to force him to talk, but that wasn't the right move. Waiting until tomorrow night would be acceptable since it had taken quite a bit of courage for the boy to even try to have this exchange.

"We will discuss this tomorrow evening," Severus answered. "I expect you to be prepared for a full conversation. In the meantime, you may return to cleaning the tables and chairs."

Flooded with relief, Harry nodded and stood up, getting back to work. He'd rushed into this tonight and didn't know how to explain what was happening. He'd be ready tomorrow. Writing in his journal would help him piece together what he needed to say to Snape. He felt both terrified and comforted by the plan to talk tomorrow night.

***

Harry sat in the common room long after most other students had gone to bed. He had his Charms book open, but the psychology book was stuck inside of it so that no one could see what he was actually reading. So far the book was frustrating him, because there was a ridiculous amount of history detailed in the first couple chapters. The book discussed the development of psychology in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds, and while it was fairly interesting, it wasn't what he needed to know. He jumped ahead until he found the sections on personality, abnormal psychology, and treatment.

So far it looked like there were tons of things wrong with him. His personality had changed dramatically over the past several months. He'd gone from a boy who tried hard not to rock the boat, to please people, and also to pretend like everything was fine even when it wasn't, to his current personality where he didn't give a shite what anyone else thought. In this respect, he considered how his life had been with the Dursleys. As he read through the book, he made notes in his journal.

Dursleys. They didn't like me, kept me in the cupboard until this past summer. Didn't feed me. Cruel. Mean. Was there ever a time when they were nice to me? Why do they hate me so much? What did I ever do to them?

He found the chapter on attachment very interesting, because he'd gone to live with people that couldn't stand him when he was just over a year old. He assumed that things had been great with his mum and dad, but his attachment probably went all to hell when he moved in with the Durlseys. The theory part of the chapter was complex, and Harry decided he'd go back to that issue another time. He knew there was something to it, because he was afraid to get close to people. He'd gotten close to Ron, and then Hermione, very quickly, but that was unusual. During the summer, while isolated on Privet Drive, he'd felt stupid and naïve for letting himself care about them so much. Surely that would lead to him getting hurt.

When you let people get close, you get hurt. If you keep people away, it's safer.

This is part of what had led him to believe Snape was someone he could talk to, because he didn't have to worry about letting him get close. It would never happen. Harry couldn't be certain, but he'd bet his last galleon that Snape had no real friends or family. The sentimental people around Harry, like Dumbledore, McGonagall, or even his friends, wouldn't understand the need to protect themselves from being hurt.

Am I hurt? Why don't I ever cry?

When he found the section on trauma he scanned it quickly and was taken aback. He knew nothing about trauma. It never, ever occurred to him that things had happened that might cause him emotional pain. But here it was, in black and white. The death of his parents, living with people who treated him like shite, the incident last year with the Sorcerer's Stone - and those weren't nearly all of the traumatic events he'd experienced. According to the book, a person could experience trauma in many ways, and sometimes the effects of trauma didn't show up until later. Harry struggled with what he was reading and feeling, but he needed to know about these things in order to understand.

The book says I need to feel "safe." Safe with people? What does it mean to be safe?

Harry stuck the books in his bag and rested his head on the back of the chair. It all seemed too much. He had no idea where to start, because it was overwhelming. And tomorrow he'd be in detention with Snape expecting him to talk, but where to start? He had no clue. In some ways, the psychology book had made things way more complicated than they'd been before.

What do I say tomorrow? How do you tell someone that you're a nutter?

***

Harry started the day feeling angry and defensive, and his dorm mates took the brunt of it in the early morning. Following a curt discussion with Ron about leaving Harry to get to breakfast on his own, Seamus called him over.

"Have you had anything to drink lately, Harry?" he asked. "A spot of whiskey might make you feel a little better."

"I can't keep drinking," Harry said. But he was torn. He didn't need to get drunk, and it did make him feel better. "I guess I might like some later, if you're going to have it."

"You're way less of an arsehole when you've had a drink," said Seamus, laughing. "We'll have it around tonight and you're welcome to join us."

"Thanks," Harry muttered, and walked away. Less of an arsehole? Maybe it was true. He hated to think about the way people saw him and felt about him lately. He'd never meant to drive everyone away. He hadn't meant to do anything but live his own life.

***

Severus considered how best to handle the detention with Harry that evening. It wasn't going to be a real detention at all because he wasn't going to assign any punishment. He'd allow the boy the time and space he needed to talk. During dinner, he seethed inside, thinking that his colleagues wouldn't believe him capable of being able to have a decent conversation with Potter, let alone help him. They were quick to assume the boy's relationship and resemblance to James Potter would get in the way, but Severus wasn't a teenager any longer. One shouldn't revisit the sins of the father on the child, and while he'd done that until this past month, he was aware enough to change gears and do what was necessary.

Potter hadn't been as emotionally erratic over the past few days, and he was less explosive and inappropriate in class. He wasn't sure if Potter had talked to Granger and Weasley about the situation, because while they seemed amiable, they didn't have the closeness they'd previously shared. Severus knew that he was more interested in what was going on with Potter than he'd ever admit to anyone. Especially Dumbledore. The old man had never before asked him to deal with a student in this way before, and it irritated him that Potter's own head of house wasn't handling the matter. In his opinion, it spoke volumes that he'd been asked to reach out to the boy instead of another member of the faculty.

As soon as he finished eating he headed to the dungeons. He went into the Potions classroom to wait for Potter, and found himself too distracted by the upcoming discussion to focus on his work.

***

Harry's heart was in his throat as he walked down to the dungeons. He felt more prepared to discuss things, but still hadn't thought of how he would start it off. Maybe Snape would ask him questions to make it easier. But he wasn't sure he'd been clear about what he needed to talk about, either.

Inside the Potions classroom, Snape stood and directed Harry to follow him into his office. Harry settled in a seat across from the man's desk and was dumbfounded when Snape sat in a chair next to him rather than at the desk. He felt like backing up just to get some more distance between them, but reconsidered because it might be perceived as rude. And they weren't so close together that it was uncomfortable. It was just surprising.

Looking intently at the ground, Harry took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. He was nearly shaking with anxiety, as though he were about to be expelled rather than have a simple talk.

"Potter..." Severus struggled to find the right words. "Why don't you give me an idea of what you wanted to discuss with me last night."

"Well, um, I think there's something wrong with me," Harry spoke rapidly; acutely aware of how nervous he sounded. "I think I've gone mad."

"What, specifically, is causing you to believe this?" he asked, enunciating each word clearly.

Harry's heart was beating so fast it might explode. "I can't control myself anymore. I'm too angry."

Severus waited a moment to proceed, as he pondered what Potter had just stated. Yes, he understood what it was like to be so angry it was unbearable. Before he could respond, Potter kept talking.

"I'm tired of everyone treating me like I'm special or something. It's not true. I'm not special at all." Harry's throat was choking up again.

"What brought you to speak to me about this?" Severus had never considered that the boy might not want special treatment. He'd simply assumed Potter was arrogant and insolent.

"You're the only one who knows I'm not special," Harry said, still staring intently at the floor. "The only person who treats me like the loser that I am. And I appreciate that, sir, because it's the truth. No one else would understand. They'd try to convince me it isn't true, I'm sure of it."

Severus was also certain that no one would confirm Potter's feelings of worthlessness. He wasn't going to validate it, either, but he agreed Potter shouldn't be treated with special privilege. He hated to admit it, but he was so shocked by what he was hearing he hardly knew where to go next.

"How long have you been feeling this way, Potter?" He was curious as to when the boy had begun to feel angry and worthless.

"I realized it when I went back to live with my relatives over the summer," Harry said, softly. "I...I wanted to hurt them. To cause them pain. I've never been that angry, but the feeling suits me. I should've been this way a long time ago."

"Did you do anything to hurt them?" Severus couldn't believe what he was hearing. Dumbledore's Golden Boy having the desire to hurt people and cause pain? It would be so rich to report this to Albus, although he had no plans to talk with him about Potter.

"I just stayed to myself," Harry said, picking at a spot on the arm of the chair. "But the feeling didn't go away when I came back to Hogwarts. I'm still angry, and I don't understand why."

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"I'm a nutter," Harry said, in a whisper. "I'm not okay."

"Potter, I do not believe that you're a "loser" as you've put it," said Severus. "Stop staring at the floor and look at me."

Harry's stomach felt like it did a flip as he looked up into his Potion Master's face.

"We will continue to talk about this. It's not madness that's causing you to feel this way, I'm sure of it." Severus noticed Harry visibly relaxing. "In the meantime, you may come to me if you feel overwhelmed by anger. You will not continue on the path of destruction I've witnessed since your return to school."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Thank you, Professor."

Severus gave Harry a sharp nod, "You're welcome, Potter. I will see you tomorrow evening. Meet me here in my office rather than the classroom."

Harry stood and left. He felt buoyant as he headed toward Gryffindor Tower. Maybe things would get better, although it hardly seemed possible. Snape had been very understanding and compassionate. Once he was upstairs he'd take out his journal and write about what had just happened, if only to document Snape's moment of kindness. There was also more to read in the psychology book. He planned to return it soon and take out another book that was more advanced.

***

Harry couldn't believe Snape had let him leave detention so early. He ran into the dorm and found Seamus and Dean drinking Firewhiskey.

"Fancy yourself a drink, Harry?" Dean asked.

Harry really did want a drink. He felt drained emotionally and knew it would make him feel warm and pleasant inside. He nodded and took the bottle from Dean. He took a good swig and handed it back.

"You're downing it like a pro, Harry," said Seamus, grinning.

Harry shook his head. "Just one more drink tonight and that's it. I can't get pissed."

"The more often you drink the more it'll take to get drunk. Keep drinking, mate!" Dean said, laughing.

"Thanks, guys, but that's it for tonight." Harry walked over to his bed and rummaged around in his school bag. He wanted a chance to read the psychology book. It might even help to read it after a couple drinks; make it easier to accept that he was mad.

In the common room, the only empty seat was next to Hermione, who was busy reading a book about famous animagi. Harry sat down and pulled out his Charms book as a cover. He opened it and took out the psychology book to quickly set it inside, but in his haste, it dropped loudly to the floor. Hermione glanced down and saw the title before he could recover the book.

"Psychology?" she asked.

"It's nothing," said Harry, his face reddening. "I've always been interested in psychology."

"You've never mentioned it before," said Hermione. "Is it something you started learning about over the summer?"

"You might say that," he answered. He picked it up and opened to the section on abnormal psychology and illnesses. Harry could feel Hermione staring at him. His jaw clenched as he waited for her to say something else.

"Harry, are you reading that book because of your own issues?" she asked, gently.

He hardly knew how to react to that question. Part of him wanted to throw the book in anger, and part wanted to tell her about what he'd learned. He was torn, but decided to try and get her off his back for tonight.

"Look, I'd rather not talk about it, okay?" he said, hoping his tone would convey a lack of interest in talking.

"Okay, but if you'd like to discuss it, that would be great. I love psychology," she said earnestly. "I find it very fascinating, and always enjoyed reading Muggle books on the subject before coming to Hogwarts. It would be interesting to learn about the way psychology is treated in the wizarding world."

"I'll let you know," he answered.

Harry looked back down and started skimming through the chapter. He was stuck on the symptoms of depression. Anger. Feelings of worthlessness. Withdrawal from friends and family. Hopelessness. Sadness. He took a deep breath. This is what was wrong. Depression. He shut the book because he'd seen enough. He'd gotten back from speaking to Snape so early it wasn't even close to curfew yet. He packed up his things and quickly headed to the portrait hole before anyone could stop him to talk. Practically running to the library, Harry kept his head down. His heart was racing and he needed something, but what? Part of him was tempted to see if Snape was still in office to talk about what he'd learned. He shook his head at the thought of volunteering to go to the dungeons to talk to Snape. Harry had changed; he hardly knew who he was anymore.

Setting the psychology book down in the return area, he turned and wondered if he should take out another book. First he set his bag down and considered writing in his journal for a few minutes. He was disappointed to notice that the good feeling from the Firewhiskey had left him, and he was dead sober. Writing seemed like a good idea, and he sat and took out his journal and quill.

There's no doubt that I really am a nutter. The book listed all the things that are wrong with me, and it's depression. I don't know whether I should feel relieved or not. Tonight I talked to Snape and actually told him there's something wrong with me. He already knew there is. It wasn't a surprise. I'm to talk to him again tomorrow night, and I might as well tell him that the problem is depression. That I have all the symptoms. Maybe there's a potion that can make me better?

Before leaving, Harry looked over the psychology books and chose the one that seemed best suited to his needs, Dealing with Depression. The book had a special section on teens, and while Harry wasn't a teenager yet, he was close enough. He felt older than his twelve years, as though he'd been through more than the average kid his age. How many of them had faced death on more than one occasion? Pleased with himself for finding another resource, Harry headed back toward the Tower. He'd have time to work on an essay for Transfiguration and still be able to read through the new book.

When Harry got back to the dorm, Neville was in his bed studying. Harry flopped onto his own bed and sighed.

"Hey, Neville," he said. "How are classes?"

"Okay," Neville answered, shrugging. "Potions is rubbish, but my other classes aren't so bad. How are you doing? You seem to be in a better mood the past couple days."

"Yeah, I am feeling a bit better," said Harry. "Sorry that I've been such a prat. I really didn't mean to be."

"It's okay, Harry," Neville replied. "We all have tough times."

Harry nodded in agreement. He wondered if Neville felt depressed sometimes, he always seemed so serious. In fact, he began to wonder about many of his classmates and things they might be dealing with. Maybe Harry wasn't the only one, and the thought made him feel better. He hated feeling like no one else could possibly understand what he was going through, but that was slowly changing. He was looking forward to his talk with Snape tomorrow night.

***

"Have you thought about what we discussed last night, Potter?" Severus asked. His chair was pulled next to Harry's the way it had been the night before. "Any strong feelings of anger today?"

"No, sir, I haven't felt very angry today, and I didn't last night, either," replied Harry. He didn't know where to look, or what to do with his hands. He cracked his knuckles and the sound seemed to echo through the room. "I want you to know...I've been trying to figure out what's wrong with me, and I think I have an idea of what it is."

"Oh?" Severus was pleased to hear that Potter had been giving this a decent amount of thought. "What have you discovered?"

"Well, you see, back at the beginning of term I started to write, because I was so angry all the time. And I did some drawing, but I'm pants at it, so I just doodle. Anyway, like I said last night the anger made me want to hurt someone, or me, and I wrote poems instead. Poems about hurting people. And, well, suicide. But I started writing other things, too, about what I was thinking. So it turned into a journal. I've been writing in it every day, and it's helped. The writing helped me figure out that I should look into psychology to see what happened to make me a nutter." The words were flying out of Harry's mouth. He'd gone from struggling to speak, to being unable to shut up.

While it was annoying, Severus felt Potter's rambling might be a good sign. He seemed far more at ease tonight than he'd ever seen him, and it was clear the boy was sharing openly.

"You aren't a nutter, Potter, stop saying that," said Severus, although he certainly had no proof that Potter was sane. "Writing down your thoughts is very wise, and it's something you should keep doing. Tell me, have you thought about harming yourself? You didn't mention last night that you have been having thoughts of suicide."

"Yeah, I guess I didn't tell you that. But there's so much to tell, I hardly knew where to start." Harry couldn't believe how much he was revealing, and yet he kept going. He felt compelled to speak. "It wasn't so much that I was thinking about actually killing myself, it's more that I wish I were dead. I don't know that there's much point to me staying alive."

Severus kept his composure, but he was alarmed at what he was hearing. He had to stop himself from taking in a sharp breath. Could it be that he felt concerned about the boy? Instead of being irritated at having to spend his time in a mock therapy session, he was genuinely interested in why Potter was struggling so much.

"And why do you feel there's no point in being alive?" asked Severus.

Harry looked away from Snape and stared at the wall. He balled his right hand into a fist and clutched the arm of the chair with his left hand. Emotions were welling up inside of him and it was like a wave of pain. The source was unknown to him, and he struggled to articulate his feelings.

"I honestly don't know," Harry said. He couldn't pull his gaze away from the wall, and certainly couldn't bear to look at Snape. If he did look, or continue to talk about this, he might cry. The idea of crying, especially in front of Snape, nauseated him. Harry hadn't cried in a very long time, and he certainly didn't do it publicly. "Can we talk about something else, sir?"

Severus would normally never allow a student to avert their eyes from him like Potter was doing, because he considered it extremely disrespectful. Yet there was a part of him that was afraid to see the boy's face at the moment. It wouldn't do to have Potter start crying - Severus wasn't prepared for it, and Potter probably wasn't, either. He'd assumed that Potter was angry for a specific reason, one that could be identified, and yet there was clearly much more going on than anger alone.

"You said that writing led you to investigate psychology," said Severus. "How did you go about that? What have you learned?"

"Well, I took out a book about psychology from the library and read over it. There were some parts that kind of explained the way I've been feeling, and things I've been doing," explained Harry. "Last night I read about depression, and it was spot on. I'm almost positive that depression is what's happening to me."

"Tell me why it was 'spot on,'" he asked. Yes, depression might make sense, and there must be more things Potter wasn't mentioning. He noticed the boy's right hand was still balled up in a fist. Somehow he had to help him relax.

"There was a whole list of things, symptoms, and I had a ton of them. Like anger, feeling worthless, hopeless, um...withdrawing from people, and there's more." Harry felt like an idiot for not remembering more of the symptoms. "Wanting to die....there are more."

Severus flashed back to several incidents he'd witnessed during the term that were indicative of depression. The inappropriate laughter in class, angry outbursts, physical altercations, getting dead drunk and passing out in a hallway - these behaviors could all be explained by depression. He wondered if the boy was still indulging in alcohol. Just because he hadn't been caught didn't mean it wasn't happening.

"Potter, have you continued drinking alcohol since the incident in the hallway?" Severus asked. He could tell immediately by the boy's body language that he had continued drinking. "Do not lie to me."

"Sometimes," mumbled Harry. He put his head in his hands. "I'm sorry."

"Look at me," said Severus, slowly. Harry hesitated. "Now, Potter."

Harry looked at Snape's face quickly and then brought his eyes down and stared at the man's chest.

Severus spoke in an even tone, hoping to impress upon Harry the importance of his words. "It is crucial you realize that alcohol is not the answer, and that it will not make you feel better. When one feels there is no hope, or that they are alone, it is...tempting to escape through alcohol. However, this is unacceptable. Alcohol is a depressant and will only serve to worsen your mood. Not to mention that you are underage and a student at a school where possession and use of such a substance is forbidden."

"I...I didn't know that alcohol would make things worse." Harry had never heard of a depressant, but it made sense in a way. "Like you said, I just wanted to get away from everything. To escape my life."

"Let me be clear," said Severus. "It's obvious that someone in Gryffindor has been providing you with alcohol since you are not old enough to go to Hogsmeade. This cannot go on. I won't ask you to tell me which student is foolishly risking expulsion by bringing alcohol into the school, and giving it to other students, but I will be alerting your head of house to the fact that there is contraband in Gryffindor Tower. If she would like, I will personally help her conduct a search."

Harry blanched at the prospect of Seamus and Dean being caught. It would be all Harry's fault. "Sir, I'll never do it again, I swear."

"I hope that's true, but regardless, Professor McGonagall will be made aware of the situation." Severus wasn't trying to be menacing, but the boy was terrified at the idea of a fellow Gryffindor being caught and punished because of him. He needn't worry, because Severus had no intention of speaking to McGonagall before the morning. There was still time to warn his little friends.

"Sir, I'm really tired," Harry said. He was tired, and now he needed to rush to Seamus and Dean and warn them.

"We can continue tomorrow, but you will stay and complete your detention tonight. You will alphabetize the files on the front table in the Potions classroom. Tomorrow you may file them away after we have our talk," said Severus.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, standing up. "Thank you, sir. For talking to me."

"You are quite welcome, Potter."

Harry worked on the files in the Potions classroom and his heart was light. Even though he was afraid of his friends being caught with liquor, it had been a good evening. He had someone to talk to, an actual adult who took the time to sit and listen to Harry. It gave him that funny feeling in his stomach again, like it was doing a flip. He still didn't understand it, but he guessed it came from Snape's help. He had never, ever, imagined he'd have an adult in his life that cared and wanted to help. And he sure as hell never thought it would be Snape. It felt like everything in his life had tilted on its head.

***

As soon as he'd reached the common room following detention, Harry rushed over to Seamus and Dean who were sitting with Fred and George, laughing. He knew the twins often joined in and drank Firewhiskey, as well. Everyone was going to be bloody angry when they found out that Harry had blown it by getting caught drunk. Because of him, there'd be a search for alcohol, and probably not just once. Harry was shocked that Snape had given him notice that he'd be telling McGonagall. He could have done it without saying anything to Harry, and his friends would have been caught for sure.

"Listen." Harry got their attention in a hushed and serious tone. "McGonagall knows that there's alcohol here in the Tower. She'll almost certainly do a search."

"What?" Seamus blew up. "Shite Harry, what the hell happened?"

Seamus and Dean both rushed up into the dormitory and Harry followed right behind. He watched as they rummaged through their belongings, removing so many bottles of Firewhiskey that Harry was stunned.

"I'm sorry..." Harry began an apology.

"Shut up, Potter!" said Seamus. "This is your bloody fault! Just leave us alone!"

"But she doesn't know it's you and Dean," Harry said, feeling guilty.

"Just go," said Dean. "We need to get rid of this before she shows up. Thanks for letting us know, Harry, but if you hadn't been caught by Snape this wouldn't be happening."

Harry turned and walked away from them. He felt like such an arsehole. But he also felt like it could've been much worse and they shouldn't be so angry with him. His mood plummeted and he went into the bathroom to be alone for a moment. Part of him wanted to grab one of those bottles of Firewhiskey and get pissed, and the rest of him wanted to fight Seamus and Dean. Splashing some water on his face he decided the best thing to do would be to get in his bed and do some writing.

It's funny how things can go to hell and be decent at the same time. One good thing is that I have a tiny bit of hope that life might get better. It's really up to me I think. And that means I might just bollocks it all up. But I don't feel like I need to die anymore, and it's a relief.

***

"Albus, I have no intention of betraying Potter's trust by telling you what we discuss." Severus said to Dumbledore. He'd been invited to tea in the Headmaster's office, knowing that he'd be grilled about the talks with Potter.

"Surely you can give me an idea of what's going on with the boy, Severus," replied Dumbledore.

"I think it's best if you trust me to handle it," said Severus. Secretly, he was delighted to have this advantage, a budding trust with Potter that Dumbledore had yet to achieve.

"I hope that if there is a serious issue or that harm may come to Harry, you will inform me." Dumbledore had no twinkle in his eyes. He was clearly disappointed to be left out of the loop.

"Don't worry, Albus," Severus said. "If there is something you need to know, I will not keep it from you."

Back in his office, Severus pondered the situation with Harry. He'd told Minerva about the alcohol problem with her house and she had immediately set off for Gryffindor Tower, no doubt to take them all to task. Her hands-off approach with the Gryffindors was the opposite from his own style. He preferred to be involved with his Slytherins' activities, and by being available to them and keeping them in check, there weren't many serious infractions.

Potter could not continue drinking alcohol. He hoped that the point had been made clear to the boy. Frankly, he was shocked by Potter's willingness to confide in him, as he'd expected angry defiance and deflection of the issues. Instead, they were making progress, and Severus felt obliged to investigate ways to help the boy deal with his depression. While he had a basic knowledge of psychological theories and disorders, someone with more experience and expertise should no doubt be consulted. It wouldn't be difficult to take a quick trip to St. Mungo's to meet with a healer about what to do next.

***

Harry was getting back on track with Ron and Hermione and didn't feel such a need to distance himself. But he still went off on his own at times to be alone. He'd never needed solitude the way he did now, and was grateful that they weren't giving him a hard time anymore. He decided to spend time after classes in the library, and sat on the floor in the area near the psychology books, which was quiet and out of the way.

Lost in thought, he barely noticed when a Ravenclaw first year walked up and stood next to him.

"Hello," Harry said.

"Hello, Harry Potter. I'm Luna Lovegood," she said, smiling.

"It's nice to meet you, Luna," he said, smiling back. "Would you like to sit down?"

"No, thank you." She had a faraway look on her face. Harry thought that Luna seemed content. She had a quality of calmness that he couldn't imagine possessing. "I just wanted to say hello. I'll let you go back to your psychology books."

As she walked away, Harry's jaw dropped. Had she been watching him? How did she know what he was reading? She seemed nice enough, but it was disconcerting to know she was paying such close attention to his habits. He shrugged to himself and kept reading. He'd have to go to dinner soon and then straight to detention, so he wanted to make the most of the time he had to himself.

***

Anger mounted in Harry throughout dinner that evening. Seamus and Dean were angry and kept talking loudly about what a wanker Harry was. He'd had enough of them by dessert. Ron grabbed his arm when he saw Harry about to blow it, and tried to calm him down.

"Take it easy, mate," said Ron. "Ignore them."

"I need them to shut the fuck up, Ron," Harry said, teeth clenched. "Or I'm going to beat the hell out of them."

Ron couldn't hide his look of shock. "Harry! You have detention with Snape in ten minutes. Ignore them, finish your tart, and walk away."

Harry took a couple deep breaths and realized that Ron was right. He had to walk away and go to his detention before he made a terrible decision. Plus, he could always punch them later on if they didn't quit it.

"You're a good friend, Ron," said Harry. "Thanks for getting me through this. I'm going to take off before things all go to hell."

Ron smiled and slapped Harry on the back. Harry gathered his things, ignored Seamus and Dean, and headed down to the dungeons.

***

Severus scowled a bit as he sat in the healer's office at St. Mungo's. He'd never gone to a healer for therapy, but he nearly chuckled to himself thinking of his own mental demons. The difference was that he'd been able to handle it without drawing attention to himself. Potter was running off the rails and it was obvious to nearly everyone around him since he wore his heart on his sleeve most of the time.

The healer was a fairly young woman, perhaps in her early thirties, with short dark hair and blue eyes. She took a seat at her desk and smiled.

"Professor Snape, it's good to see you," she said. "My name is Amanda Keller. I was a first year when you were a sixth year at Hogwarts, I believe. How can I help you today?"

"I have a student who is showing signs of depression and I thought it wise to consult you about his issues," Severus explained. "I'm unsure of how to proceed with the boy."

"Have you thought of having him speak with a therapist?" she asked. "An evaluation would help us determine how to treat him. I could make an appointment to see him at Hogwarts if that would be convenient."

"I'm very interested in hearing more about the treatment for depression, if that is truly his issue," said Severus, slowly. "As you know, discussing mental illness is discouraged in the wizarding world, and I don't have much knowledge beyond basic theories."

"Absolutely," said Dr. Keller. "Stigma concerning mental illness in our world is even more of a problem than it is in the Muggle world. How old is the child?"

"He's twelve," Snape answered. "As a Potions Master, I'm aware of the medicinal treatment options for adults, but I assume he is too young for such measures."

"Yes, if he needs treatment, therapy is a good option. I specialize in child psychology and normally would assess the child's needs and proceed accordingly. For example, an hour long therapy session once per week is somewhat standard. A more specific treatment plan would be conjecture at this point since I haven't met him." Dr. Keller seemed competent to Severus.

"I will speak to him about meeting with you when I see him this evening," said Severus. "I believe he'll be agreeable to talking with you. Would it be acceptable to contact you tomorrow to make an appointment?"

"That sounds perfect. I could meet with him in the evening any weeknight except Wednesdays," she said.

They agreed to speak the following night and Severus traveled by Floo back to Hogwarts in time for Potter's detention.

***

Harry trudged through the halls on his way to Snape's office. Spending so much time trying to figure out answers was wearing on him. He wasn't in the mood to talk tonight but he had no choice. He was feeling angry and tense. As he turned a corner and saw Draco Malfoy walking in his direction with Crabbe and Goyle, he prepared himself for a confrontation.

"What are you doing down here, Potter?" Malfoy asked. "Have another detention?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," he snarled.

The three Slytherin boys laughed. Malfoy walked up to Harry and shoved him. Harry had balanced himself and was able to push him right back. He dropped his school books and advanced on Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle sprang into action and grabbed Harry, throwing him against the stone wall. Harry lashed out wildly, swinging at Malfoy but not connecting. Malfoy threw a punch that landed squarely on Harry's jaw, snapping his head back. Pain coursed through Harry's face and he recovered from the blow. All four boys froze in place when they noticed Snape striding toward them, furious.

"Stop it!" Severus spat. He couldn't believe Potter was scuffling in the hallway like a common thug. Malfoy and his idiot friends should have known better than to start a fight here, around the corner from his office, as if they wouldn't be caught.

"Ten points from Slytherin and ten points from Gryffindor." He was furious with Malfoy, who was no doubt the instigator. "Detention for you three with Filch, tomorrow night. Potter, come with me."

He allowed Harry time to gather his belongings before grabbing him by the arm and practically dragging him into his office. Once inside, he thrust Harry toward a chair and stood over him.

"Explain yourself," demanded Severus. His voice hard and menacing. Harry was struggling to keep his rage in check.

"That arsehole started it!" Harry yelled. "He pushed me, and I was already too angry. I wanted to kill him!"

"Language, Potter," Severus warned. "You must learn to control yourself. Taking on three larger students in a fight is just stupid."

Harry couldn't calm down. The anger was too intense. His face hurt, and he put his hand up to gingerly touch his jaw. Snape pointed his wand at Harry and the pain diminished.

"Thank you, sir," he said, quietly.

Severus sat down in the chair beside Harry, as he had done during their other talks. The boy was clearly furious, and berating him would not help the situation, no matter how annoyed he was with Potter.

"Look at me," said Severus. Harry looked over and met his eyes. As usual, he was unable to hold eye contact, but kept facing him, which was good enough. "I spoke to a healer at St. Mungo's about your situation. She is willing to meet with you to evaluate your symptoms."

Harry was distressed. He didn't want to see a shrink. It was embarrassing, and he didn't know of any other kid who had to do it.

"Sir, I don't think I'm that bad," Harry said. "Can't we just talk? I think things are getting better."

"Are they?" Severus drawled. "Fighting in a blind rage certainly seems to be an improvement."

Harry winced. Why did that have to happen tonight? Why couldn't Malfoy just leave him alone?

"I don't want to do it," Harry said. He was certain what he wanted wouldn't matter to Snape.

"Yes, well, we all have to do things we don't want to do," said Severus. "But I'm surprised, Potter. With all your research and willingness to speak about depression, I felt certain you'd be willing to speak with the therapist."

Harry was silent. It had actually been nice of Snape to go to St. Mungo's and talk to someone about this situation. And it was true that Harry had been spending all of his free time attempting to understand his feelings. He looked at Snape and saw that the man was giving him time to make a decision. Resigned to his fate, Harry knew that there was only one correct answer.

"I'll talk to her," said Harry, reluctantly. "But not alone. I want you to be there, too."

Harry couldn't believe he'd just said that to Snape. Still, it was true. He was afraid to talk to the therapist alone.

Severus was astounded. The boy was full of surprises.

"If Dr. Keller agrees, I am willing to be there with you," he said. Potter wanted him to be in the therapy session. Would wonders never cease?

"Thank you, sir," said Harry. "When will we go to St. Mungo's?"

"I will make an appointment with her and she will come here to see you. It would make sense to have the initial meeting during this detention time. She may Floo here to my office for privacy." Severus was pleased that the boy wasn't going to fight this. "Have you continued to write in your journal?"

"Yes, sir," answered Harry. "I write in it a few times a day, at least."

"It might be helpful for you to write about a specific topic related to your mental health," said Severus. He'd been thinking about this earlier in the day. "I would like you to describe exactly what you're feeling when you get so angry that you need to fight."

"Okay," Harry said. "But, um, are you going to read my journal?"

"Not all of it, Potter. Only the entries that I request from you," Severus answered. As much as he'd love to get his hands on that journal, he would respect the boy's privacy.

Harry put his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He nearly flinched when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Was Snape comforting him?

"Things will get better, Harry," Severus said after patting the boy's shoulder. "I'm certain of it."

Harry fought the tears that were filling his eyes. He blinked them back before they had a chance to run down his cheeks. How could his emotions betray him like this? He wouldn't cry. He felt pathetic to be so moved by Snape's gesture and words, and yet it had truly comforted him. He'd even called him 'Harry' instead of 'Potter.' But in time, Snape would remember that he was worthless and not deserving of any help. His emotions were tearing Harry apart, and he knew he could not lift his head until he had composed himself. It seemed to be taking forever.