The parapet was solid at his back, flush from hips to shoulder, one leg stretched to just brush the neighbouring stone block, his other leg hanging off the edge of the tower, the cool September breeze whipped the hair about his face, into and then away from his eyes, sending chills across his skin; winter cloak as of yet unneeded in the heated halls and unthought-of in his heedless trek to the topmost level of the Astronomy tower.

He'd sprinted the entire way from the dungeons to the tower; shifting staircases and empty corridors paid no attention in his distraught escape from the complete humiliation he had just brought upon himself. Baffled, angered and concerned shouts from long dead portraits unheeded by his mortified sensibility; Harry had raced through the halls, unable to face even the thought of speaking to someone about 'the incident' anytime in the near future.

Or ever.

Not paying attention to his route and having no destination in mind Harry had just continued to run until he'd suddenly burst out onto the astronomy tower roof and stopped short an inch from the waist high ledge.

And for an instant, a split second in time, he'd almost continued running, up and off the edge of the tallest tower at Hogwarts.

But he didn't want to fall to his death; he wanted to fly away from everything and everyone and just… be Harry.

And so he sat, on the ledge, back against the wall and refused to think about the shit storm that was no doubt brewing in the halls below.

Lunchtime came and went, and Harry didn't even really contemplate leaving the tower; he knew that Hermione and Ron and no doubt some of the professors were probably getting concerned, but for once in his life, Harry was unable to draw up the courage to face what had to be the most embarrassing experience of his entire life.

In fact, it was beyond just embarrassing…. Embarrassing was being labelled the 'chosen one' or having Ron's little sister moon over him or being awarded the points that won the cup every single year…. Nothing compared to having secrets so secret that you hadn't even admitted them to yourself suddenly revealed to the entire student body and no doubt, the wizarding world at large.

Just thinking about the way the words had escaped his mouth, despite him fighting harder than he'd ever fought anything before; the total lack of control had terrified him. He ran his tongue over his teeth; still able to taste the coppery blood from where he'd bitten into his own hand, desperate to stop the sentence that he knew was trying to escape.

The memory of the truth torn from his throat…things he longed for, desperately sometimes, yet had never even acknowledged as they didn't fit the 'Harry Potter – chosen one' image.

The chosen One was not Pathetic.

Pathetic Potter.

Now that it had been said out loud he was forced to recognise the truth…no one loved him, and he loved no one.

Hermione and Ron were his best friends and he cared for them deeply, and on some level, recognised that they cared for him too, but he knew that there was no one on the planet who loved Harry more than they loved themselves.

What nearly every child had with their parents Harry had lost and never found again with the Dursley's, what every person felt with their first crush, their first love, Harry had never felt.

And honestly never expected to…after all, how can one expect to be loved when one can't honestly say they love themselves?

It was a realization, one that the potion couldn't force out of him because he hadn't even known; Harry had never understood love.

The afternoon passed, Harry intermittently dwelling on the mornings 'incident' until it became too much to cope with, and then steadfastly refusing to do so, turning his mind to Quidditch, Hedwig or some other nonsensical matter.

Any appetite he had was destroyed with each recurrent run through of the potions classroom, bile rising in his throat at just the thought of having to face people who knew every one of his inner most longings.

The thought that Draco Bloody Malfoy had been in the room almost brought him to tears, yet Harry Potter didn't cry… hadn't cried in years, not since he was old enough to understand the words "Crying is for weaklings and women, freak!"

And Harry Potter was no weakling… yet at the moment he was feeling pretty weak.

And wretched.

And Pathetic.

Pathetic Potter.

Several times during the course of the day Harry had sat bolt upright, once almost too suddenly, his seeker reflexes catching him as vertigo hit. His near death was caused by the faint thudding and laughter that wafted from the classrooms below, as students made their way to and from their various lessons.

Every guffaw or bark of laughter sent blood to his face, paranoia making him sure they were talking about him. Twice he had all but stopped breathing when it seemed they were getting closer than the classrooms warranted, perhaps set to invade his sanctuary.

He'd though about moving to a more solitary position, but each idea was discarded as having its own flaws.

Moaning Myrtle's bathroom had, well… Moaning Myrtle.

The chamber of secrets, while not very secret anymore and definitely only accessible by him, had too many memories tied to it…and was really quite disgusting anyway, what with the sixty foot corpse rotting away down there.

He'd contemplated just sitting in one of the secret passage-ways, but the twins, as well as his friends knew of those, and ….well it would be really boring…at least up here he had the sky.

The shrieking shack was a serious contender until he considered that while the professors were willing to allow him to shirk classes in favour of secluding himself on the astronomy tower roof (he had no illusions that the staff didn't know where he was), he didn't think they would react well if he just disappeared off the castle grounds entirely.

Besides, if classes, companionship and the chilly weather weren't deterrent enough, then the locking charm on the trap door should be an adequate message to any wanderers.

The sun started to sink and Harry knew that the nightly feast would have the great hall filling with ravenous teenager's right about now and knew that anyone who didn't know what had happened in the potions class that morning when they sat down would be completely informed within 5 minutes.

Watching the golden rays peal their way through the bright red sky, Harry, for the first time that day, realistically contemplated his options, discarding suicide, mass murder, a school wide obliviate and other nefarious schemes he had touched on during the day.

He really only had one option, because he couldn't just fortify his position on the tower and live out the remainder of his days up here, too spineless to face the ravenous hordes below.

If he could whether being thought the heir of Slytherin when he was 12 surely he can handle a little gentle ribbing from his fellow students.

About some of the most intimate and personal longings and hopes he harboured.

Simple.

After all; Harry Potter knows no cowardice.

And so, getting to his feet, ignoring the slight sway as they adjusted to his weight after hours of lying idle, Harry returned to the castle proper, retracing the path of his frantic dash.

His feet led him towards the great hall, determined that if he was going to do this he'd rather just jump in eyes closed than draw the torture out.

"I love you Harry!" was suddenly shouted, followed by the tittering laughter of the young hyena…sorry, female species. Harry refused to look as he pushed through the gaggle of third year girls, noting the yellow and black ties.

Sudden dread filled his stomach, weighting heavily; if even the Puffs, the kind, loyal Hufflepuffs were mocking him, then perhaps his most terrified imaginings from the day weren't so farfetched.

The closer he drew the worse it became, as he caught up with the stragglers; the detention crew, the rebellious older students and the studious Ravenclaws.

'Be mine Harry!'

'It's sooo romantic…do you think he's waiting for the right one?'

'Attention seeking prat!'

'…kind of tragic really. I heard Vicky Frobisher telling Latimer Morsley that it was really kind of sad. Yes, it is kind of pathetic as well….-feel sorry for him…'

'I'd like to do more than kiss you Potter! In fact; I'd like to bend you over and-'

Harry couldn't help but wonder whose brilliant idea it had been to face this head on.

By the time he reached the doors that opened up to the great hall he was as humiliated as he had been that morning, his pale skin making the burning blush of his cheeks astoundingly obvious, his head tucked to his chest, eyes hidden behind hanging locks of dark hair, hands tucked in his pockets, hunched in on himself.

The dull roar from the room beyond grating on his nerves, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, lifted his head, pulled his hands from his pockets and Harry pushed the doors open in one fell swoop and walked into the hall.

The roar became deafening silence and several hundred eyes suddenly placed Harry in their spotlight; and it was obvious that the rumour mill had been working well this fine Hogwarts day; naturally the whole school knew that Harry Potter was an uncorrupted blushing virgin, innocent of all carnal delights.

For someone as private and independent as Harry, to have his intimate thoughts and hopes out as general fodder was almost too much too bear, yet to his credit he kept his head held high, as Harry as ever, despite the pink dusting his cheeks and the slight tremble of his hands, he stood tall in the doorway, not meeting, yet not avoiding the many curious and insensitive eyes.

The staff table was also silent, waiting to see how this would play out; many of their number concerned, sympathetic and angry but knowing that it best if Harry handled the situation himself, rather than having the added shame of having a teacher intervene.

Thankfully, Harry had two friends, who always came through for him when he most desperately needed them,

"Oy Harrybub!"

And

"Hey Harrykins!"

Harry met the twin's eyes as they leapt to their feet and had to snort as they gestured dramatically, Fred placing his hands on his hips and glaring sternly, George shaking his head disappointedly.

"We've been hearing some unacceptable things about you today…"

"You've been a very bad boy…keeping such terrible secrets…."

"Misleading us…"

"6 years and we've yet to corrupt you!"

"Terrible!"

"Intolerable!"

"Impossible!"

"We have no choice Fred…."

"I concur George, no choice at all"

"It must be done. For the greater good…"

"We must remedy this situation immediately. Get over here…"

"Like Dad taught Ron….We must teach you of the bugs and the birds!"

Ron visibly cringed and Hermione gasped with laughter as they separated, freeing a spot between them, gentle invitation obvious. Harry accepted it, moving to sit in the gap Ron and Hermione had created, suddenly eternally glad that the twins had taken Dumbledore up on his offer to finish their seventh year after the Umbridge fiasco. Trying to ignore the steady crescendo of hushed murmurs and whispers, filtering out the building laughter and ignoring the growing comments and several dreamy sighs directed towards him, Harry listened to his friend's hilarious tale of poor Ron's misfortune of being the 6th son, whom Molly refused to give 'The Talk', instead leaving it up to her husband.

Harry was doing a more than satisfactory job at being engrossed in Fred and George's story, but shifted uneasily and shrunk in his seat a little at a particularly crude jab aimed from the Slytherin table. Ron nudged him in the side and sent a blinding grin which he returned weakly, noticing that when Ron turned back to the table he had angled his 6" framing such a way that it shielded the left side of the halls view of his friend.

Ron himself was scarlet and intermediately thunking his head against the table but was secretly glad that his brothers had managed to take some of the spotlight off his friend, a little guilty that he hadn't found a way himself; after all he half considered it part of his job description to protect and back Harry. It seemed that many of the Gryffindor students had taken the twins, Ron and Hermione's lead, being deliberately more Gryffindor; louder, more exited, more brash…shielding and masking the small group hidden in their midst.

The table had filled with delectable offerings and most students dug in wholeheartedly, the majority of Gryffindor table still ensnared by the Twins embellished tale as it finished and then morphed into another. Harry however, still unsettled by the constant stares, whispering and catcalls picked at his dinner, not comfortable despite his best efforts to appear normal. He really appreciated his friends and housemates attempts to shelter him but could feel himself reaching his burn point.

A soon as the first students began to retire to their rooms for the night Harry pushed his plate away and got to his feet, "I'm going to head to bed. I'll see you in the morning…."

Hermione reached out and grasped his arm, "Are you sure Harry, do you want one of us to come with you?"

Harry smiled softly at the witch, answering, "No thanks –'Mione, I'm fine." he spread his gaze over his closest friends; the twins, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny, and then the rest of his house and added a soft "Thank you", before he turned on his heel and headed towards the door, several worried gazes following in his wake.

Halfway to the exit Harry stopped and nodding his head as if coming to a decision he turned and headed towards the Slytherin table on the far side of the room. The hall fell silent as the students noticed him, and by the time he reached the green and silver cohort a pin drop could have been heard.

Harry saw out the corner of his eye several teachers tense as he stopped at the head of the Slytherin table; and wandered if they really thought he'd attack someone in the full great hall. He looked down the table of sneering, yet confused faces, lingering on those he knew by name and passing those he didn't. He met the silver grey eyes of Draco Malfoy and was hardly surprised to have the blonde stare back challengingly, but for once it wasn't Malfoy he was here to confront.

Obviously ousted from his position at the head of the table with the older students, Higgs huge frame was squashed in among the fourth years, and from the surly looks he was receiving, about half his house was less than impressed with him; or at least the result of his actions. From the corner of his eye Harry could see the hourglasses that recorded the house points against the far right wall; the red was ludicrously full in comparison to the other colours whereas the green was completely and utterly empty. Higgs had obviously lost them a lot of points.

Many of the students didn't really care about the house cup, having decided that humiliating Harry Potter to this extent was worth the last place ranking, others – particularly the younger years who were less involved in the upper years tense opposition were surly at the loss of points but not brave or suicidal enough to protest too loudly.

Terrence Higg's face was bruised below his left eye and his lip was split, he'd obviously refused to go to the infirmary, but looked to be paying the cost, hunched over his ribs and sitting awkwardly. He still managed to sneer maliciously when Harry turned to him.

"Higgs…"

The whole hall was listening in on this conversation, something that both Harry and Terrence were aware of; the seventh year took control of the conversation before Harry had a chance to continue.

"What the hell do you want Pathetic?" he spoke loudly, for the entertainment of his house, thinking that his deliberate interchanging of Harry's surname was incredibly clever.

Sniggers died down as Harry didn't react other than to just tilt his head to the side and wait for silence, which was granted him a moment later, "Nothing you'd be competent enough to provide. I just wanted to inform you that you're potion had too much Camphor…." the ease with which the flippant comment was delivered startled Draco Malfoy into a surprised huff of laughter, inciting many of the others at the table to also laugh at the seventh years expense.

Higgs was speechless; he'd thoroughly humiliated the younger boy, taken Potter's self-worth and crushed it under his size 12 boots – he should have been the champion of Slytherin right now, and instead his own friends and fellows were laughing at him.

Because of Potter, who even now had turned his back and was wondering out of the hall like he wasn't the laughing stock of the school.

Higgs verbally lashed out at Harry's retreating form, "Potter! You should fix your problem…before someone else does. I'd enjoy making you scream."

"Mr Higgs!", Professor McGonagall's furious voice cut through the hall like a whip, all tittering and whispering falling silent. The deputy headmistress was on her feet at the head table, seemingly near vibrating with fury. She turned to where Professor Snape was seated beside her, her voice pure steel as she spoke, "Mr Higgs's behaviour is beyond inappropriate, deal with your student- or I will!"

Severus raised an eyebrow at her, slowly setting his cutlery down. Then he turned to the slytheryn table and said, voice icy as glacial water, "Mr Higgs- with me." He slid his chair back and got to his feet, cloak billowing behind him as he started to leave the great hall, not having to look to see if his student was following.

Higgs slunk away from the table, face puce and eyes narrowed as he stalked after his teacher.

Harry's voice stopped both teacher and student, as well as the rest of the hall.

Despite the colour rising in his cheeks at the vulgar suggestion, Harry kept his cool, a look of smouldering disgust accompanying a cold dangerous voice that reminded people that this boy, this man, was feared by the most feared wizard in the recent history, "No Higgs, you really wouldn't….." and Harry turned and strode from the hall; seeking his room and the solitary privacy found behind the curtains of his four poster bed.

The complete and utter disregard that he was dismissed with shocked the seventh year silent and he didn't recover until well after Harry had left the hall. Finally he shook himself from his stupor and realised that Severus was gone, he hurried to follow. He skulked down along the length of the Slytherin table; the centre of attention; the majority of it disgusted, disapproving and condemning.

He turned to Draco; the unmitigated king of the Snake house and foremost Harry hater, and would have been dead twice times over had looks been able to kill.

The halls were empty as he headed for the common room, most students and staff still at dinner, and Harry was thankful. He ran the conversations he'd had with both his friends and then later with Higgs through his head, unhappy and upset with the situation but feeling a little better at having stood up to the seventh year who had so easily destroyed his semi-peacful life in 30 seconds.

His friends were trying to help, wanting to shelter and protect him, and to an extent Harry appreciated it, but he was the type to do his own fighting, to stand up for himself, and hoped that his friends would understand when he pushed them away a little.

Not yet though.

Entering the common room, he smiling tiredly at the fat lady's jovial greeting and made his way up to the sixth year dorms, shutting the door behind him and flopping onto his bed with an audible sigh, "Welcome to the life of Harry Potter. What a bloody day!"

A moment later and he pulled himself to his feet and hurried through his nightly routine, showering and brushing his teeth; he wouldn't have bothered but he could still feel the faintly sticky remnants of his impromptu potion bath that morning.

After discarding his glasses on the bedside table, Harry sat on his four poster bed and drew the curtains, hoping to ward off the no-doubt sympathetic interest once his house mates returned. Shutting aching and tired eyes he settled back against his pillow and was rudely awakened by the sound of rustling paper and flat coolness against his cheek.

An envelope, plain white, no name or label, rested on his pillow and Harry starred at it, baffled, before shrugging and reaching for his glasses, replacing them on his nose.

He opened the letter and began to read the neat black script.

Potter,

It has come to my attention that your potions lesson this morning was rather…unpleasant.

As Mr Higg's potion was not tested, nor completely accurate and although I can find no adverse side effects from the portion I tested, please report to the hospital wing at the first sign of discomfort or illness.

Let it be known, while I would not stoop to disparage a colleague in his manner of dealing with you tiring little horrors; this would never have happened had you been under my watch.

The potion – Intimate Truth, is not something I would ever wish one to experience; and certainly never in a situation such as you found yourself this morning.

The intimacy potion was originally derived as a method of ease during arranged marriages, allowing couples to speak candidly, but by choice, about what they wished from a relationship. Mixing it with weakened Vertiserum however, takes away freedom of choice.

A despicable and unacceptable action.

Rest assured Terrence Higgs has been soundly punished – he would have been expelled, however as it is his seventh year, and he is, and I tell you this in the strictest of confidences and on the knowledge of what he forced from you -Terrence Higgs is one of my 'at risk' students,due to the state of his home life, I could not bring myself to recommend explosion.

Instead, he shall be joining me for detention every other night for the rest of the year.

He also succeeded in losing his house 1000 points. The disparity between Slytherin and Gryffindor house hourglasses at this point in the year sickens me with homicidal rage. Be warned.

Although I trust your ever expanding need for attention and trouble will no doubt shrink this gap in short order.

Finally, I spent this afternoon testing a rather inspired brewing of Intimate Truth and have come to the conclusion that if indeed the work truly belongs to a certain potion-dead, incapable dunderhead Gryffindor, whom I refuse to name– then the 1000 points awarded are not without merit.

If I believed.

SS.

Harry read the letter twice, unsure what to make of it, several areas were insulting, as he would expect had Dumbledore ordered it written, and while the majority of the rest was just factual and emotionless, there were a couple of phrases where almost…kind.

And knowing who the sender had to be…

Well, Severus Snape didn't do 'kind', and certainly not to Harry Potter; the bane of his existence.

Finally Harry placed the letter in his trunk, still unsure but not having the energy to contemplate it any longer, deciding just to take it at face value. He returned to bed and was asleep within two minutes, despite, or perhaps knowing what the rest of his week would no doubt be like.

Mayhem…mortifying, embarrassing, and humiliating mayhem.