Secrets

He’d lost track of time; no longer was he able to count the days since he’d run away. Instead, he lived life minute by minute. His goals were no longer related to schoolwork, but to securing drugs for himself. He’d branched out, too. No longer did he restrict himself to just heroin. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and Harry was now well versed in the use of crystal meth, cocaine, and a number of wizard drugs as well. Here, it didn’t matter if he was poor. He only needed to perform certain acts to secure his fix. In fact, Harry’s emaciated form, green eyes, and unruly hair were something of a legend around the neighborhood. As far as looks went, he was by far the least damaged. Compared to the other boys, he was an Adonis.

Currently, the boy who lived was sitting on a dingy blanket on a street corner. He had intended to do some busking, hoping that his musical skills would earn him some cash. Exhaustion had changed this, though, and instead he was staring off into space, not really noticing the rain that was hitting him, soaking him to the bone. Soon someone would come and find him, use him for something. He didn’t care much what they did to him, so long as they did it somewhere warm. The only thing that had ever mattered in his life was gone, had thrown him out like a useless piece of garbage.

He looked up and saw his dealer. Harry had no money, and he knew what he’d have to do to get anything. Nothing bothered him anymore. That’s what the drugs were for. If someone wanted it a little rough, then so be it. He could take it, and then he would dull the pain with opiates. The older man motioned for Harry to follow, and obediently, he did. He didn’t see the stunned look on the dark haired man standing a few feet away.

Severus wanted to cry. His impatience had caused him to throw the boy out, when love would have sufficed. “We could have worked our way through it,” he thought blithely. It had taken him weeks to track down the boy, mostly because everyone kept expecting Harry to just show up and apologize. When that didn’t happen, Snape had begun searching the area, beginning with the Forbidden Forest and somehow winding up in Hogsmeade. He was just about to give up and go back to Hogwarts when he saw a scrawny urchin sitting on the sidewalk. There was something eerily familiar about the kid. Curious, Severus had watched him for a few minutes, taking in the sadness that emanated from him. It was as if the kid was sitting there, biding his time until it was time to die. Only when another man approached the boy did Severus recognize the teen as his Harry. For a moment, he was paralyzed as he watched the boy follow the man listlessly. Like a robot, he seemed program to carry out basic functions necessary to survival and nothing more. Suddenly, though, Snape broke into a run, so he could catch Harry before he disappeared again. Surprising both Harry and his dealer, Snape grabbed the boy and then began running to Hogwarts. Harry’s dealer figured that the older man was just a pimp, angry that his property had escaped. Harry, in his drug induced stupor, thought that he was still with his dealer.

Snape hurried to his quarters, carrying Harry as if he were a small child who could be broken at any time. Once the pair were safe within his quarters, he eyed the boy carefully. He was obviously disoriented, thin as a rail, and badly beaten up. His clothes were filthy and soaked through, his arms covered in track marks. Snape was hardly put off. Instead, he flicked his wand to clean Harry’s clothes and then sat down next to the boy. Gently, he wrapped his arms around Harry and watched as the boy drifted off to sleep.

When Harry woke up, he was struck by the sensation of being warm. There was no noise erupting from the street, no rain falling upon his head, no puddle under his head. He felt soft blankets covering him, cushions underneath his body, and someone warm behind him. Groggily, he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. He sat up with a start when he recognized Snape’s apartment. He felt the arms around him tighten and turned his head to see Severus looking at him.

“You’re not going to get away this time, Harry,” he spoke softly. “I won’t let you leave.” When the boy continued struggling to get away, Snape used one of his hands to stroke the boy’s hair, all the while maintaining his grip around Harry’s waist. Instead of calming the boy, as Snape had hoped, Harry instead began to squirm more frantically. “Shh, Harry,” it’s ok,” soothed Snape, “I’m here to help you. We’re going to put you back together again. Don’t you want to be whole again, to attend school again?” Something Snape said must have struck home with Harry because the boy suddenly stopped trying to escape. He either decided that resistance was futile or that he did want something else in life. Snape hoped it was the latter.

Once Harry had ceased moving, Snape stood up, still holding the boy in his arms. He had decided that it was time for the boy who lived to have a bath. Quickly, he removed Harry’s clothes, carried him to the bathroom, and placed him in the tub. Automatically, the basin began to fill with water. He was shocked to see how thin Harry had grown in just a few weeks. As the water rose to cover Harry’s body, the boy began to relax slightly. Snape gently washed his body, careful not to disturb any wounds. Severus knew that he should be shocked by how battered Harry was, but he wasn’t. Harry would have been low on the proverbial food chain out on the streets. He would have had to put up with all sorts of treatment.

Once he was satisfied that Harry was clean, he lifted the boy out of the tub and dried him off. He felt Harry lean into the touch, obviously enjoying feeling cared for. Soon, Harry was dressed in clean clothes, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he’d lost about twenty pounds, no one would’ve guessed that he’d disappeared.

Gently, Severus took Harry’s head into his hands and looked into the scared green eyes. “We’re going to work through this, Harry,” he said, “just like we did the last time. It’s going to be ok, but you’re going to have to trust me. You’re going to have to believe that I won’t leave you because you aren’t comfortable with something, because you aren’t ready for something.” He paused, seeing that Harry was now crying, but trying not to show it. He was still on something, Severus knew, and he was disoriented. “There will be differences, though,” he continued. “First off, if you aren’t ready to give up something, you must tell me. I’m assuming that you’ve picked up a few more nasty habits this time around, and it won’t do at all to have you quit them all at once.” He watched the boy, looking for any reaction.

“If…if I can have cigarettes,” he muttered, “and maybe the coke…at least for a while.” Harry looked at Snape hopefully. He desperately wanted to please him, and couldn’t bear to be thrown out again.

“Cigarettes I think we can do, and cocaine maybe,” replied Snape. “We’ll see. What else are you currently taking?”

“What am I not taking,” asked a sullen Harry.

“Heroin, meth, skillith,” asked Snape, rattling off a few intoxicants he knew of. When Harry didn’t respond, however, he knew that the boy was a bit worse off than he’d initially thought. He wasn’t sure how to deal with someone using meth.

“Do you have any of it with you,” asked Snape. Harry shook his head in a negative response, and the potions master’s face took on a look of relief