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Gone to Madness	By : everwild34 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 14548 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The characters used in this story and any recognizable places or situations belong to JK Rowling. I do not own anything from the Harry Potter universe and am making no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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- 3
I want to thank my kind reviewers for their thoughts and support. Nope, not a oneshot, though it was originally intended that way. I have the first 6 chapters written and am currently working on the 7th. It won't be a huge story, just 9 or so chapters really.
Here's chapter 2:

Secrets

Harry�s hurried footsteps echoed loudly off the dungeon walls as he scrambled to reach the Entrance Hall before his professor came after him, changed his mind, and dragged Harry back again to keep him there and never let him go. Fear spiked adrenaline rushed through his veins, pulse thundering in his ears as he darted through the darkened corridors.

The final heavy door on his path to freedom was torn violently open as Harry rushed into the comparatively blaring bright hall and fell to his knees, panting painfully on the stone floor in an effort to collect himself. His throat hurt from screaming and his following flight through the dungeons, his backside was throbbing horribly in time with his racing heart beat, and every other muscle in his body felt strung out and abused -- thus his half-hearted theory that it had all somehow been in his head, some frightening aftereffect from the Occlumency, was dispelled immediately. There was no way he would feel so horrible if the� events following his disastrous lesson with Snape had never really occurred.

He felt an almost desperate need to start screaming, to kick and tear at anything and everything that crossed his path, while at the same time he felt that anything so loud as that would shatter the illusion of normalcy he was struggling to put into place. He wanted so badly to confide in Ron and Hermione, but something in him knew that he just couldn�t, the same part of his mind that whispered in his ear, �what if they hate you? What if they laugh in your face and mock you for your weakness?� It was all so confusing and frightening; he didn�t know what to do.

If Snape had indeed lost his mind, then that could mean that he wasn�t just a danger to Harry now, was he? What if he hurt someone else because Harry had refused to go to Dumbledore about it the first chance he got? What if Snape had already attacked someone else before now and Harry was just the latest in a string of victims?

Somehow, this didn�t sit well with Harry. Sure, Snape was a complete arse to anyone who wasn�t in Slytherin, especially the Gryffindors, but he never actively antagonized any of the other students like he did Harry. Unlike with everyone else, Snape had a reason to hate Harry, to hurt him, and -- strangely enough -- a dubious reason to do what he had done.

He had repeatedly ordered Harry to look at him�

Harry shuddered involuntarily and lifted his head to look around. The Entrance Hall was still eerily silent and empty but for his own presence there, meaning that neither Snape nor any of the other professors had come looking for him. He stood on shaky legs and stooped down to throw the discarded book bag over his shoulder. A hiss of pain burst from his lips against his will as it came into contact with his raw back.

His baggy jeans clung nauseatingly to his bloody legs. They had probably been stained a dark red by now, but his robes should cover it well enough if he got caught. He desperately needed to get himself cleaned up though; his skin was crawling and itching as an intense feeling of disgust came over him. He felt so dirty.

The Gryffindor boys� washroom was, as expected, completely empty at this time of night and Harry sighed in relief. He had no idea how to deal with his dorm mates right now, or anyone else for that matter. He stepped out of his sticky, blood-caked clothes and into a pristine shower stall beneath the cleansing spray.

Not hot enough, he grumbled with an irritated frown. Harry twisted the tap until the water was near scalding, and then he proceeded to scrub every inch of himself clean, making sure to be more gentle on the sore spots. Dazedly, he watched as the stream of water beneath him turned from a frighteningly thick cherry red to a watery pink before it ran clear, the blood completely gone from him. But still, he felt unclean, tainted, disgusting.

His legs folded beneath him and he sat against the shower wall, knees drawn up to his chest, head bowed as the burning water continued to pound down around him. Why the hell hadn�t he been able to do anything to stop it? Why did it hurt him so much?

The physical pain had been terrible while it had lasted, yes, but now it was just a dull ache, a general fatigue, and still he agonized over what had been done to him. He hadn�t wanted it to happen, he�d never� but Snape had forced himself on him while he was too weak to stop the man -- and Harry had tried so hard to stop him. How could anyone expect someone so pitiful as him to fight off Voldemort, to kill him, when he couldn�t defend himself against a bloody teacher.

Harry gasped and shook while he sat there, resting his forehead against his knobbly knees and not even bothering to rub away the tears, until the water ran icy cold. Shivering, he dried himself off, roughly tousling his hair with a fluffy towel, and pulled on the clean robe that had appeared folded on the closed lid of the toilet seat.

He received quite a shock when he looked into the mirror over the sink and caught sight of his face. It was already bruising a nasty looking purple and black where Snape had struck him, covering a good half of his face. He hadn�t realized that Snape had hit him so hard.

He�d read about glamours in Charms class last year for an essay, but they had sounded extremely difficult to cast and were debilitating to hold up over long periods of time. He obviously couldn�t go to Madam Pomfrey for some bruise salve, nor could he very well go down and ask Snape for some. But then how on earth�

And then it hit him� �Dobby?� he called hesitantly. A moment later, there was a snap as the house-elf appeared, wearing his customary tower of hats and array of scarves and socks.

�Master Harry Potter sir! What can Dobby be doing for --� Dobby�s eyes widened as he took in the damage done to Harry�s face, causing the boy to wince in anticipation.

�Harry Potter is being injured! Is Harry Potter alright, sir? Who is being doing this dreadful thing to kind sir?! Dobby will --�

�Dobby, stop!� Harry whispered urgently, desperately hoping that Dobby�s shrill voice hadn�t alerted anyone to his presence there. �It�s fine! Nobody did this to me, I� I just hit my head is all.� he protested lamely, stumbling over the lie. �I just wanted to ask if you could get me something to heal this.�

�Of course, sir! Dobby will be back momentarily, sir!� Dobby exclaimed, still wide-eyed and upset as he disappeared once again. Harry didn�t doubt for a moment that if he were to tell Dobby that it was Snape who had attacked him, the little house-elf would believe him. Dumbledore though, and many other members of the staff, would most likely be much harder to convince. Nobody had believed him during first year when he, Ron, and Hermione had tried to explain about the stone. Why should they now, especially about something so beyond anyone�s expectations?

Even if he got them to look into it, if Dumbledore used Legilimency on Snape and didn�t get anything, then what evidence was there but for his word. Snape appeared to be unable to recall the entire incident and entirely stumped when he had discovered Harry�s wand in his pocket. There was something wrong with the man, that much was obvious, but after Snape caught him in his quarters he had gone straight back to normal.

A dreadful hopelessness crashed over him as the realization sunk in. Did he even want them to believe him? To see how horribly weak he really was?

But he couldn�t just do nothing� why not? Why not just forget all about it, pretend it never happened? It would save everyone else the trouble of investigating and it would save himself from the humiliation. He would just have to stay away from Snape, or at the very least avoid being alone with the man. Occlumency� it would be better teach himself and request an end to the lessons; they had been dreadful anyway.

Crack! �Here is Harry Potter�s bruise salve, sir.� Dobby interrupted Harry�s musings abruptly, holding out a squat jar of some dark green, sludgy looking substance and beaming up at him. Harry gave a little half smile in return and thanked him, taking the salve carefully in his hands.

�Is Harry Potter needing anything else, sir?�

�No thanks, Dobby. I can take care of it from here.� The little elf gave a deep bow and promptly vanished, leaving Harry once more to his troubled thoughts.

He stood gingerly and placed the bruise salve on the edge of the sink, leaning heavily against the porcelain and studying his sickly reflection. Was he really going to let Snape get away with doing this to him? But there was nothing he could do.

With a sigh, Harry unscrewed the cap and smeared the green goop over the ugly bruise, wincing slightly at the sting of pain. Moments later, both the ache and all visible damage were completely gone and his face looked smooth once again, if a little pale. He was ready to return to Gryffindor tower and get some much needed sleep; he still had all of his classes to attend tomorrow.

　

At half past one in the morning, Harry was more than a little surprised when he entered the common room to find both Ron and Hermione still waiting for him by the dying fire, homework and books sprawled across the round coffee table and in their laps. Admittedly, Ron was fast asleep with his head lolling to the side and a stream of drool dripping steadily onto the shoulder of his wrinkled robes, but Harry appreciated the effort all the same.

�Harry!� Hermione gasped the moment she saw him, �Where have you been? Snape�s never kept you this late before�?�

�I -- Sn-Snape kept me later than usual to, you know, get in some extra practice. He still seems to think I�m not trying hard enough.�

Ron grunted in his sleep so loudly that he woke himself and blinked owlishly up at Harry where he sat in the plush chair beside him. �Harry, you�re back, mate. Wha� timuzzit?� he slurred groggily, lazily cracking his back as he sat up a little straighter.

�It�s late. We really should be going to bed.� sighed Hermione. She tiredly began the process of replacing her books in her rucksack one by one and Ron reluctantly followed suit with much grumbling.

Up in the dormitory a few minutes later with Ron�s guttural snores already drifting throughout the room, Harry lay on his back with the curtains drawn around his four poster, not a wink of light shining through. He had to know, he had to�

Harry listened briefly in case any of the other boys were awake before creeping out of bed towards his trunk and withdrawing the Marauder�s Map. �I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,� he breathed, touching his wand tip to the yellowed parchment. Several minutes later, Harry found what he had been looking for: Snape�s dot was still moving, pacing rapidly around his cramped office. Harry found himself unable to tear his eyes away, imagining what Snape must look like down there in the dank dungeons, unable to sleep as he walked back and forth, back and forth, feeling guilty perhaps or angry.

�Mischief managed,� Harry whispered. Silently, he folded the parchment and stored it away deep inside his trunk. This was getting him nowhere, he needed some rest. With some trepidation, Harry returned to his bed and tugged the curtains shut around him, trying to quiet his whirling thoughts. He knew, without a doubt in his mind, that the nightmares would follow soon after he fell asleep, but the utter exhaustion throbbing in his limbs quickly forced him into unconsciousness� Look at me�

*****

�Harry, are you sure you�re alright?� Hermione asked once again. She, Harry, and Ron were sharing a table at the back of the Transfiguration classroom, attempting to change a wooden plank into a small garden snake. Hermione had already succeeded and was watching as the little serpent weaved itself between her fingers, but Ron was struggling; Harry was simply trying to avoid falling asleep where he sat. Wearily, he opened his mouth to respond but Hermione interrupted him with a roll of her eyes.

�And don�t try and tell me you�re �fine� either. You look all peaky and as if you�re about to fall over. Snape shouldn�t have kept you so late, but Ron and I went to bed round the same time you did and you don�t see us near falling asleep in every class.�

Harry grunted a noncommittal response and waved his wand with a mumbled �Serpentus Animo�. The piece of wood gave a little twitch and rolled over, smoking slightly.

�I�m just tired is all, Hermione. Nothing�s wrong with me.�

�If you�re having those dreams still --� Hermione started gearing up into lecture mode.

�Just LEAVE IT, Hermione, will you?�

Harry unclenched his tightly curled fingers one by one, breathing deeply through his nose in an effort to calm himself. It wasn�t Hermione�s fault.

�Mr. Potter, please refrain from shouting when in my class. I will not tolerate it.� McGonagall strode towards their table, lips thinned into a severe line and eyes narrowed piercingly. �If you two would demonstrate the proper transfiguration, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley.�

Ron looked up fearfully, Harry resigned.

�Serpentus Animo� they both said simultaneously, wands pointed at the planks sitting on their desks. Ron�s made several loud popping noises, jumping and flipping over in the air before it burst spectacularly into flame. Harry�s shriveled into what resembled a brittle, porous stump and fell to the floor where it shattered. McGonagall wasn�t pleased.

�Practice. And Miss Granger, make sure they do.� The bell rang a moment later and the students immediately started packing up and exiting the room. Harry hesitated before stiffly doing the same. Potions was next.

As much as Harry wanted to delay the inevitable, the last thing he needed was to receive a detention for lateness and incur Snape�s wrath. As a result, he switched back and forth between lagging behind his friends and hurrying ahead of them, nervously checking in his bag for Snape�s essay as he did so.

�What�s gotten into you, mate?� Ron called as he and Hermione were once again forced to catch up with him. �Hold still for a minute, won�t you?�

What seemed both an eternity later and yet no time at all, the trio were standing outside Snape�s door with the Slytherins and their fellow Gryffindors, all of whom fell silent the moment Snape swept past them and into the room. As they settled into their seats, Snape unnecessarily called, �Silence!� and waved his wand at the board. The directions for today�s potion appeared there, Prox�s Death, a dangerous poison.

�You all know what to do. Begin!�

As per usual, Snape strode around the dungeons peering into students cauldrons, making scathing remarks about the Gryffindors� efforts and nodding approvingly at the Slytherins. It would appear that nothing had changed.

�Potter!� Snape barked half an hour later from over Harry�s shoulder. Harry jumped about a foot in the air and accidentally knocked several ounces of a chopped leafy ingredient into his cauldron which hissed and started bubbling menacingly. �Watch what you�re doing, boy! The instructions clearly stated that the belladonna wasn�t supposed to be added until after the knotgrass, or can you even --�

�I didn�t do it on purpose, I know what the instructions said!� Harry�s jaw nearly dropped at his own daring.

�Insolent little brat! How dare you interrupt a professor!� Snape raised his wand to vanish Harry�s now useless potion, but Harry flinched so violently that he paused. �I�m not going to curse you, boy.� And with a wave of his wand, the contents of Harry�s cauldron disappeared. �Another zero, then, and five points from Gryffindor.�

It wasn�t until Snape had stalked to the other side of the room that Harry unfroze and started to put his ingredients away. He couldn�t even muster enough indignation to be properly angry at Snape now.

�Harry, you�re shaking and you look pale as a sheet.� Hermione whispered, �Are you sure --�

�Yes, Hermione, I�m perfectly alright! Now will you stop bothering me?� he hissed through clenched teeth. Hermione gave him an injured look and turned back to her own cauldron unhappily, obviously still worried and a little hurt. A wave of guilt washed over him, but Harry couldn�t bring himself to apologize. If she would just leave him alone, that�s all he wanted.

The bell signaling the end of class rang out through the dungeons, and Harry tore out of the classroom as quickly as his feet would carry him, ignoring the yelled, �Mr. Potter!� that Snape sent his way. He couldn�t stay there any longer.

When the rest of the class had filed out at a more reasonable pace, Snape remained standing in the middle of the room with a furrowed brow and a couple of angry questions still on his lips. Why would Potter seem so� tightly wound? It was almost as if the boy was afraid of him or some such nonsense. What could he and his little friends be up to now?

With a scowl on his face, Snape turned on his heel and marched deeper into the dungeons in the direction of his office, black cloak whipping about his ankles. It had been too long since he�d had a good glass of brandy.
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Gone to Madness