A/N: Hi guys:). Sorry it took me a while to post. I had to get my tonsils out. Glares. Ah, well. Getting better now! :D I hope you enjoy the next instalment of Shame! Oh, and just a bit of information; I don't live in London… So I make up places and streets and such. Please just bare with me. Enjoy!

Start of Chapter 5: Not Again"What time is it?" Harry whispered hotly into Snapes ear as he helped the intoxicated teenager stumble down the path that lead to the door of Number Four, Whalloy Crescent in St James.

Snape sneered as Harry's strong breath filled his nostrils, "Sweet Merlin, Po…Darcy. Who lets you out drinking like this?"

"They don't care," Harry admonished, waving a hand drunkenly in the air, "Just said, 'Be back by…'" realisation flooded Harry's face, "What time issit?"

"Quarter eleven last I checked," Snape said exasperatedly and sighed loudly as Harry pulled away from him, "What is it now?"

"Man!" Harry pouted dramatically, shoulder slouching in disappointment, "I gotta-hic-gotta go find some-hic-where to sleep."

"That's ridiculous, Darcy." Snape snapped in annoyance, grasping Harry's forearm tightly and dragging him towards the door.

Harry sucked in a breath and tensed automatically, Not. Vernon. Not. Vernon.

"Here," Snape shoved Harry's wallet, complete with school ID he'd used to find where he lived, back into his pocket, "Try and look presentable."

Snape rapped his knuckles on the door, and stood a full sixty seconds before trying again.

"They-hic-They're not gonna let –hic- me in, you do rea-hic-lise?" Harry said, slumping against the wooden doorframe.

Snape growled lowly and knocked again against the generic, cream coloured door.

Harry frowned exaggeratedly, waving his hands around. "You don't listen, do you, Batman?"

Snape sneered. "Do not call me names."

The green-eyed teen's eyes widened behind his rounded spectacles and he babbled on about some possessive nonsense or other.

Snape glowered, "Insolent brat," he spat, more to himself than to Harry. "Just like your—"

"Boy, we told you—" Heavy footsteps thundered their way down the steps inside "—if you weren't back by eleven—" Vernon slammed the door open to reveal his nephew and a man with greasy hair and sallow skin standing in his door way, "What have you down now, boy!" Vernon growled, grabbing a fistful of Harry's hair and pulling him inside by it.

"'M sorry, Uncle—" Harry started, eyes squeezed shut as another, shriller voice cut across him.

"Vernon! Get the boy inside before the neighbours hear!" Petunia appeared on the staircase, wrapping a dressing gown around herself, catching sight of someone at the door she added, "Gosh, thank you so very much for bringing our…" but the words died on her lips as it registered who she was talking to, "Sev—"

"Yes, thank you very much. Good bye." Vernon cut across, completely oblivious to the interaction going on between his wife and the mysterious man at the door, and slamming said door in Snapes face.

Shaking the shock that had been left on Snapes face, he turned down the path and walked out of the white picket fence. Any doubt whatsoever that Harlen wasn't Harry had left his mind immediately after seeing Petunia.

Glancing back at the dimmed house his eyes met with those of Petunia Dursley, peering out the planes of glass after him. He held her gaze as he apparated with a soft pop to Hogsmeade.

"It was him, Albus." Severus sneered spitefully out the closed window, bracing an arm against the frame as droplets of water pounded on the planes and trickles down the cold glass.

Dumbledore paused in the stroking of Fawkes' feathers.

"No, Albus...It was him." Severus ingrained, tearing his eyes from the sky outside and boring them into the side of the Headmasters head.

Sighing, Dumbledore turned and took his seat opposite Severus' across the desk, "I've always known where our Mr Potter was. Lemon Drop?" Dumbledore offered, the twinkle retiring briefly behind his half-moon spectacles.

Fire sparked deep down inside of Severus, "You've known where Lily's son has been all these years and never said a word?"

"I assumed the Dursley had their own reasons for keeping Harry from this world, and with them as his guardians I respected that." A frown pulled slightly at Dumbledore's wrinkled face as he continued, "It seems, however, they haven't been taking as good care of him as I would have liked."

"You 'assumed they had their own reasons and you respected that'?" Snape mimicked, eyes narrowing dangerously, "Albus, I know your eyesight isn't what it use to be but you cannot tell me you failed to see the bruises on that boys face."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, "My, my, Severus. I'd never imagine you as the protective sort."

Snape sneered, "Do not try and distract me." Swooping up from his seat he was soon standing haughtily by the door, "You will repair this."

Turning on his heel before he even got an answer Snape preceded through the archway, the sound of his footsteps echoed down the marble steps before fading into nothingness.

Shuffling around in his desk for a moment Dumbledore soon found parchment and quill. Dipping the nib into the blazing purple ink, Dumbledore brought it to the page and started to write;

Dear Mr Potter…

Harry flicked through his English text, Pride and Predjuice, as his teacher droned on and on about the 'dramatic irony' or some bullshit, unconsciously rubbing his bruised forearm hidden by a mass of black bands. Repressing a groan, he buried his head in his hands. He'd woken that morning with a whopping hangover that had yet to pass, and it was fourth period already!

Sighing he returned to the book, picking a page at random and hoping to find the answer to whatever question they we're meant to be researching;

"When you have killed all your own birds, Mr. Bingley," said her mother, "I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please on Mr. Bennet's manor. I am sure he will be vastly happy to oblige you, and will save all the best of the covies for you."

Elizabeth's misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officious attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise—

A loud squawk was heard outside and a large bird swooped in through the open window, dropped something onto Harry's head, and swooped out so fast they couldn't even tell what species it was.

Hissing about 'Stupid fucking birds, throwing shit at me,' the green-eyed-teenager reached down and picked up what it was that had bounced off his head and onto the floor.

Harry waited until the classes attention had gone back to what the teacher was saying before he looked properly at what laid in his hands. What he saw made him freeze.

"No…" Harry whispered disbelievingly, his eyes widening behind his spectacles.

"Mr Potter, if you wouldn't mind—" Miss said, turning impatiently from the blackboard she was writing notes on.

"No!" Harry interrupted, pushing his seat back from the desk, running a hand through his hair. His eyes darted around the room hurriedly, before resting on the envelope again.

Letting out a frustrated growl he scrunched the paper into a ball in his hand and stormed from the room. Harry passed his professor in the hallways, and ignoring their questions he soon found himself stumbling blindly down the steps of St James High School.

Within minutes Harry was passing Catherine's Park. Sprinting down a side alley he turned sharply into Whalloy Crescent, only to be very nearly missed by his Uncle's car that was turning around the corner.

"BOY!" Vernon yelled, putting on the park break and sticking his beefy head out the car window, "WHY AREN'T YOU AT SCHOOL?"

"I-I, er…" Harry gulped nervously, looking around at the small crowd that had gathered around them and clutching the letter tightly in his hand.

Apparently Vernon had noticed them too, for he beckoned Harry over to him and said in a pained voice, "Jus-just go home, son," he said with what seemed to be Herculean effort, grasping Harry's shoulder in what was intended to be a fatherly manner. Leaning in he snarled, "I'll deal with you later."

Without a second glance, Harry turned was already half way across the lawn, making his way toward the front door of number four.

Heart still racing, Harry pushed open the door and walked up the carpeted steps, --tripping only twice-- and didn't even bother to answer his Aunt's call of, "Dudders? Is that you?"

Once Harry had made his way halfway down the hall, he turned abruptly and went through the thin piece of ply-board that created his door too his room. He searched frantically, throwing the stiff crumpled mass that the owl had left him onto his rickety cot. Underneath a loose floorboard, he found what he was looking for.

Although the gold and red paint had started to peel off, the biscuit tin was still the same one Harry had lifted from the garbage eight years previously.He let out a shaky breath and sat down on the bed, taking the tin with him. Forcing himself to remain calm as he opened the latch, Harry allowed the biscuit tin lid to fall open.

Inside was an assortment of Harry's most prized possessions. There was a photograph of the woman he guessed to be his mother; there was a polished rock he had found at a creek back in Surrey; there was even a tarnished bell he'd swiped off one of Mrs Fig's cats'collar. There were other things too, things he had acquired since he and his relatives had moved to London. There was a half-filled bottle of whisky; a small pocketknife; and a wad of cash adding up to a hundred and seventy four pounds.

Harry's fingers shook as he took out the last item, a yellowing envelope with blazing purple writing;

Mr Harry James Potter,

Cupboard Under The Stairs,

4. Private Drive ,

Little Whinging,

Surrey.

Blindly he grabbed at the envelope lying crinkled on his bed, feeing his skin heat up. Bar the obvious differences in the addresses, they were identical. Right down to the emerald 'H' seal on the back.

"FUCK!" Harry raked his fingers through his hair, exposing his lightening scar. "Shit, shit, shit! No!"

"Be quiet, boy!" Petunia screeched from her diligent post in the downstairs kitchen.

Panting, Harry stalked across the room as he pulled at the tightening collar of his shirt, and slammed his door shut. He spun around and realised; he had trapped himself in there. Harry gulped and rubbed furiously at his angrily prickling eyes. He cursed at them. Man, he was heating up.

What the fuck? Harry thought he'd be rid of these fucking letters after he'd left Surrey! Five bloody year of nothing, and then this. What the hell kind of sadistic fuck did shit like that?

Harry screamed through gritted teeth, hitting his head hard against the doorframe. He let out a muffled groan.

He was suffocating. Harry was sure he was suffocating as he pulled off his hoodie and dropped it hurriedly to the floor. Something fell out of its pocket. Something that caught his eye, even in his fit of panic; a clear, plastic bag of white powder…

And then he saw black.

End of Chapter 5: Not Again

A/N: There you have it! I hope you enjoyed it. And I hope you know how psyched I have been too write the next chapter! I've been planning it for aggggeeeesss! :D Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, as well as those who have added me to Favourites/Alerts. It makes me smile. Until next time… :D