Title: Fallen Angel
Author: Annette/Eriador117
Rating: R
Pairing: Harry/Snape pre-slash
Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter related belong to JK Rowling, I'm just borrowing the characters for a while.
Feedback: annette.gisby@which.net
Beta: Patricia
Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm
Challenge: Wave X - Not here, not now. No magic? Harry and Snape meet differently than in canon.
warnings: AU, mentions of child abuse and violence, depression.

Fallen Angel

I took one look and something snapped inside,
I said I love your eyes
You took my heart, you took my breath away,
I felt my temperature rise
You said you've never loved a man this way
That it was heaven you were here to stay
from Fallen Angel by Meat Loaf

September 1997

Harry winced as he swallowed the potions Madam Pomfrey gave him. It was the same routine at the start of every year at Hogwarts. There was a nutrient potion, a pain killer, a potion that helped combat infection and of course the calming potion and Dreamless Sleep. The pain and the panic eased somewhat, but the nausea still hadn't abated and he closed his mouth, trying not to throw up. He wondered if the matron had any other patients like him, people who were so hated, so reviled by their own flesh and blood that Harry was little more than a punching bag in their care.

As he got older, he'd fought back, of course he did, but he was no match for the bulk of his uncle and cousin, when they could catch him. He was fleeter of foot than either of them, but they had an accomplice in his aunt, who caught Harry easily and then they would tie him up before beating him to a pulp with their fists and their feet. Petunia used a belt or the broom handle, she coudn't bear to touch him with her skin. Harry closed his eyes and shuddered as he remembered the few days before his seventeenth birthday, the last few days they would be able to do anything to him and they were determined to get their value out of him.

Harry was so sure they were going to kill him this time, they'd come close on plenty of other occasions after all and he wondered would he still be expelled if he'd used underage magic to stop them. Since Hogwarts was his only respite from the horrors he endured at Privet Drive, he didn't feel he could risk it.

He'd left his uncle's house as soon as he'd turned seventeen, finally, finally free of the abuse he'd endured for the sixteen years he'd spent there. Dumbledore had still never explained to Harry's satisfaction why he had been left with the Dursleys, even after he finally defeated Voldemort at the end of his sixth year, Dumbledore still insisted Harry returned there. Harry found it difficult to explain about his abuse, so he never mentioned it to the headmaster.

Harry had no idea who else knew of his abuse besides Madam Pomfrey and his two best friends, he hoped it wasn't common knowledge. Harry Potter, who they kept calling one of the most powerful wizards alive could not protect himself from his relatives. He was so weak, so useless, letting them do that to him.

After Harry had downed his last vial of potion, Madam Pomfrey got out her wand and began scanning his body. She'd done this plenty of times before too, checking him for bruises and broken bones and healing them. He'd had broken bones before, this time it was mostly only bruises. Nothing on the face, the Dursleys never bruised him where it would show in public. They concentrated on his chest, his back, belly, groin and backside. Once Vernon had kicked him so hard in the kidneys that he'd been pissing blood for days, despite Madam Pomfrey's potions. She always gave him a supply when he left for the summer, but it never lasted long. The abuse was too frequent, too rough.

"Harry, there is something unusal with your scan. I'd like you to see a specialist Healer at St. Mungo's."

"A specialist? What's wrong?" asked Harry.

"I'm not sure, that's why I'd like you to see the specialist. Rest there a moment, I'll fire-call him and make you an appointment with him."

"Okay," said Harry, getting rather worried. Madam Pomfrey had always managed to heal him before, no matter what his relatives had inflicted on him. Had their abuse damaged him internally in some way? Something that wasn't visible?

It seemed an age before the matron returned, her long apron brushing along the floor in front of her. "He can fit you in on Saturday, Harry, so that you don't have to miss class. As you're of age now, you won't need a chaperone, but would you like someone to go with you for moral support?"

"I can ask Ron if he won't mind."

"I'm sure he won't, Harry," smiled Madam Pomfrey. She fished in her pocket and removed a golden card to give to Harry. He glanced down at the details of his appointment.

Patient: Harry Potter, 11. a.m Saturday 7th September
Healer: Professor Severus T. Snape, Senior Consultant.

Harry wondered what on earth was wrong with him that he needed to see a senior consultant.

***

"Of course I'll go with you, Harry! What do you take me for?" said Ron with a beaming smile when Harry had voiced his request later that night. He'd barely eaten anything at the feast, he just didn't feel hungry and was feeling as if everyone was staring at him, staring at the Boy Who'd Defeated Voldemort Once And For All (At Least We Hope So), as if he'd suddenly grown two heads in the summer months he'd spent away from the castle.

"Madam Pomfrey doesn't know what's wrong?" queried Hermione, already she had a textbook open and was glaring pointedly at their lack. Harry could almost imagine Hermione's thoughts. "It's the NEWTs this year, how will they expect to pass if they don't study?"

"She said she isn't sure, but I think she suspects what it is, but hasn't told me." Harry didn't need to tell his two best friends he was worried, they knew him so well that they knew it already. Hermione set her book aside and looked at him with a frown on her brow, as if he was a very difficult puzzle she was trying to solve, but she didn't say anything.

The thought had occurred to Harry, more than once, that he'd been cursed in that final battle with the Dark Lord, but he hadn't mentioned that to anyone. Everyone seemed to have a strange look on their face every time he brought up Voldemort and he just stopped, rather then endure all the weird looks.

It had seemed too easy, when he finally killed the madman and Harry was worried that the evil wizard wasn't really gone but was just biding his time and coming back even worse than before. He barely slept and when he did, Harry's dreams were full of various versions of that scenario.

He would probably need some more Dreamles Sleep from Madam Pomfrey, but she'd run out of the quality stuff she usually used and was relying on Professor Slughorn to whip her up a new batch. The Potions professor was a disaster, ever since Harry had started at the school. Despite the title of Potions master, the man seemed to know as much about Potions as Harry did about Crumple Horned Snorkacks.

He yawned and after saying good night to Ron and Hermione, he took an early night.

***

Harry's only knowledge of medical care was the Hogwarts infirmary. The Dursleys had never taken him to Muggle doctors, no doubt worried that their abuse of him might be discovered. He may have died, but they wouldn't have cared. Probably buried him in some out of the way place and be pleased that they'd finally got rid of the freak.

He dressed in a blue shirt with white buttons, a pair of Muggle jeans and over this he put this year's Weasley sweater, then took it off again, realising that he would probably have to undress to get examined by the healer. He just put on a light coat instead, it was easier to take off than the sweater. These clothes were brand new, he'd bought them by mail owl and had them delivered to Hogwarts so that he would have new clothes when he arrived. He would never have to wear hand-me-downs from the Dursleys ever again.

Harry waited, sitting on his four poster as he waited for Ron to get ready. Harry had been up all night throwing up, he wasn't sure if it was because of nervousness at the trip to the hospital or because of whatever might be wrong with him.

Finally Ron was ready and the redhead grinned at his friend. "Ready, Harry?"

"I suppose," said Harry as both of them made their way to the infimary and took the Floo directly to St. Mungo's.

***

They waited a few moments before a nurse came out of the consulting room to fetch Harry. Ron stood up too, but she looked a bit worried at this development. "Can my friend come with me?" Harry asked.

"Well, it isn't usual procedure, but if Healer Snape has no objections, he may stay."

The nurse ushered them inside the room and had a quick word with the healer, who was hidden behind a curtain.

She came back out and gave them a beaming smile. "He said it's okay," she nodded to the two chairs sitting before a rosewood desk, the gloss so shiny the surface was almost like a mirror reflecting the ceiling. Harry and Ron both sat down and waited for Healer Snape to emerge from behind the privacy curtain.

A few moments later, he did, dressed from head to foot in long, black robes. The only colour was a small sliver of green trim on both the cuffs and collar, the colour for healing. He was tall, much taller than Harry and the man exuded presence. Dark shoulder length hair was tied back from his face, he was sallow faced, but his lips were strawberry red and the hooked nose seemed rather large, but it was the eyes Harry couldn't seem to tear himself away from. They were so dark it was almost like they were the absence of colour, it was hard to tell whether they were a very dark brown or did some people really have black eyes?

The healer sat down behind his desk and rather than ask Harry to undress, as was Madam Pomfrey's first instruction, he conjured, paper, quill and ink which settled on his desk with a small thud. He stared at Ron and then back to Harry.

"Are you sure you want your friend to stay here for our first session, Mr. Potter? Most patients find it easier to open up if they are on their own."

Session? Open up? Dear Merlin, Harry had a sinking feeling in his gut that he knew exactly what sort of healer Professor Snape was.

"What sort of specialist are you?" asked Harry, feeling so betrayed by Madam Pomfrey.

"I thought you knew, I'm a psychomagical therapist."

No. No. No.

"Sorry to have wasted your time then," said Harry standing up and heading for the door. Ron's binding spell was so unexpected that he didn't have time to block it.

"I am not in the habit of binding my patients if they do not wish to pursue therapy, relase him at once!" roared Snape.

"I can't," said Ron as he handed an envelope to the healer. "Professor Dumbledore wants him committed, he's signed all the papers. Harry has to have treatment whether he wants to or not."

Harry could not believe this. He could not believe that Dumbledore thought he was crazy. What had Madam Pomfrey told him? She'd promised she would tell no one of his abuse. Ron released his binding spell, but if Harry thought escape was going to be that easy, he had another thought coming.

Harry turned the door handle but found it locked. His breath was coming in erratic gasps and he was getting dizzy. He hated being locked in, it reminded him too much of his cupboard and he willed himself not to pass out although he was in a hospital if that did in fact happen.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, the doors will be warded against you now that Professor Dumbledore has signed the papers, you will only be allowed to leave to go to the ward if you are accompanied by one of the staff. You will not be able to leave the hospital at all until either Professor Dumbledore signs your release forms or you are deemed to be of sound mind by a healer."

"Then sign something and let me out of here!" screamed Harry. He knew he was losing it but it couldn't be helped. The old fear was clawing up from his chest, memories of Privet Drive intruding on his conscious mind and he closed his eyes, but that just made the visions worse. "I'm not crazy!" Harry snapped his eyes open and rounded on Ron. "Did you know? Did you know what sort of healer he was?"

"Dumbledore told me, Harry. He thought you'd be calmer if a friend brought you here."

Some friend! "There's nothing wrong with me! I kill Voldemort for them and this is the thanks I get!"

"You killed someone? Who's Voldemort?" queried Snape, his head going from Harry to Ron as if he was a spectator at some strange tennis match.

"You - you don't know who the Dark Lord was?" Harry asked quietly, feeling his stomach lurch.

"He doesn't exist," said Ron. "Harry's delusional, he made him up. That's why he's here. It should be all there in Dumbledore's letter. He's been living in a fantasy world. Harry, none of it happened, the Philosopher's Stone, the Basilisk, the Triwizard Tournament, you trying to rescue Sirius from the Ministry, Death Eaters, it's all in your head."

No. No. No. It happened, it was real. Harry was there, Harry had lived it, Harry had suffered it.

"Death Eaters? What on earth are Death Eaters?"

"They were followers of the Dark Lord," said Harry.

" Fictional followers of the even more fictional Dark Lord," Ron snorted and Harry suddenly went for his former friend, getting in a good punch to Ron's nose before Healer Snape cast another binding spell on him. Harry glared at Ron, hoping his hatred shone through. How could Ron do this to him? Let him be locked up like this? When he knew, he knew what the Dursleys had done to him?

"Nurse Green, please escort Mr. ....?"

"Beasley. Don Beasley." Ron's voice sounded as if he had a very bad cold and Harry hoped he'd broken the red head's nose. He wasn't sorry, not one bit.

"Nurse Green, please escort Mr. Weasley out while Mr. Potter and I have a little chat."

"Dan I dum and bisit him?"

"No visitors for the first few days, Mr. Weasley, but don't worry, your friend is in safe hands."

"Dank you," said Ron as he was ushered out. If it hadn't been for the binding spell, Harry would have tried to make a rush for the door. This was a nightmare and any minute he was going to wake up. Any minute now. Any. Minute.

Nothing happened, except Snape turned from the door and released the binding spell, Harry fell to his knees, thrusting his hands out in front of him to break his fall. His chest hurt, his legs felt like jelly and he had a pounding headache.

"May I call you Harry?" asked Snape as he knelt down beside him on the floor and gave Harry a glass of water. Harry took it, his hands trembling so much that it sloshed onto the carpeted floor. He wondered how may other patients had knelt here as the healer gave them conjured glasses of water and pretended to be their friend. Harry swallowed the water, it stopped him from the necessity of a reply. Maybe he'd make himself sick and throw up on the pristine carpet.

He glanced up as the man knelt down beside him. Terror pounded in his veins and Harry scuttled to the far wall, leaning his back against it, making sure he could see all parts of the room. No one would be able to sneak up on him ever again.

***

Severus stared sadly at the nervous boy on the floor. It was always like this for the few first days a new patient was admitted. First there was the anger, the disbelief that there was anything wrong with them, the fear that what happened in the hospital was going to be worse than their illness. Acceptance took a long time and Severus knew it was going to take a lot of time to build up the trust between himself and his newest patient. This one was not going to be easy.

The boy's delusion was so well formed that it would be difficult to wrench him away from the fantasies and into real life. Harry didn't look like he was going to talk anytime soon, but he had to try. There was no point in letting the boy go and sulk in his room. He was here for therapy and therapy was what he was going to get.

"Harry, Professor Dumbledore signed your commitment papers acting in loco parentis . Can I ask why you don't live with your parents?"

"My parents are dead," spat Harry, his eyes blazing jade fire. "They were murdered by Lord Voldemort. Didn't Dumbledore write that in his little file on me?"

"Harry, your parents can't have been murdered by Lord Voldemort, he doesn't exist. Your mind made him up. While you're here, I hope to discover what has caused your break with reality. It can have various causes. Magic, someone may have cursed you to have these delusions, physical, there could be something wrong with your brain chemistry or it could be a coping mechanism, that your mind has made up these memories as a way to hide the truth from you, something that you don't want to face."

"There's nothing wrong with me!" shrieked Harry.

"Harry, Voldemort did not kill your parents. The sooner you accept that, the sooner we can find a suitable treatment for you."

"How did I get this then?" snapped Harry, pushing his fringe out of his eyes. There was a strange scar on the boy's forehead, a jagged lightning bolt, seeming so much redder than the pale skin around it. The boy was very pale altogether, as if he'd never seen much sun. Only his eyes, lips and scar had any colour to them. "Voldemort tried to kill me the night he murdered my parents, but the Killing Curse rebounded and I was left with this scar."

"Harry, you've been at a wizarding school for the past few years, you know as well as I do that no one can survive that curse, there is no defence against it. No, I'm afraid you will have to come up with a better explanation than that for how you got that scar."

"So, I'm a liar now, is that it?"

"I'm not saying that, Harry. To you, everything you've described, told me about is true, they are very real to you. But, Harry, it's like a dream, the only one who is experiencing them is you. They aren't real, Harry and you are hurting yourself the longer you cling to this fantasy world."

"It's real! I didn't make it up! I didn't!" protested Harry, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Severus knew how far to push and when to pull back, he'd been doing this for almost twenty years after all.

"I think that's enough for today, Harry. I'll get someone to show you to your room and we can talk some more tomorrow."

Harry stood up, wobbling a bit and Severus had to clamp down on the urge that wanted to go over and hug the boy, give him some form of comfort, but he knew it would not be considered appropriate and he had no wish to alienate Harry further.

Nurse Green was nowhere to be found, so Severus found himself leading Harry to the room that had been prepared for him ever since he'd received the letter and case file from Madam Pomfrey. Harry hovered by the doorway, seeming unwilling to go in. Severus noticed the boy staring at the bolt on the outside of the door.

"Please," Harry's voice was barely more than a breathy whisper.

"Please what, Harry?"

"Please don't lock me in."

Severus nodded and cast a spell on the door so that it couldn't be locked from the outside. The psychiatric department was well warded, Harry wouldn't be able to leave it or the hospital, but at least he had some freedom of movement. There was a lock on the inside, Severus pointed it out to let Harry know he could have some privacy. Harry nodded and sank down on the bed like a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

He looked so frail, so lost sitting there that Severus wanted to hurt whoever had made the boy like this. Harry was seventeen years old and barely looked older than twelve, a lack of height and bulk on his frame. Severus knew that some of Harry's delusions could actually be caused by lack of nutrition and he made a mental not to let the catering staff know his menu choices for Harry. Severus always took a whole approach to his patients and he only ever treated one patient at a time. It was a stroke of luck that he could actually fit Harry in.

"Goodnight, Harry," he said, but wasn't surprised when the boy didn't reply.

Severus made his way back to his office and sat down on one of the armchairs to go over Poppy's file on Harry again. He'd read it before, but he wanted to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Merlin, he'd forgotten how bad it was. It was like reading a medical dictionary.

The abuse had started long before Harry had ever started Hogwarts and gained access to any sort of medical care and a lot of damage had already been done. He was so malnourished that when he first arrived he was suffering from rickets and scurvy. Scurvy? In this day and age? Severus read on, the details just getting worse and worse.

There were healed fractures on his cranium as if he'd been hurled against a wall, broken scapula and collarbone, fractured jaw, nose and wrist, his hips were misaligned and had been fractured in the past too, as if someone had twisted them right behind his back and Harry had been walking with a limp until Madam Pomfrey had healed him. Evidence of past bruising, extensive damage to his internal organs, it was a wonder he hadn't died. There was no mention of sexual abuse in the file, but then Poppy did say she hadn't looked for it as Harry was difficult enough to treat for the physical abuse.

He was terrifed of sudden noises and movement, would not venture outside on his own and was paranoid that he was going to be murdered. There were scars on his torso that Harry would never discuss no matter how many times Madam Pomfrey had asked him about them and he was absolutely terrified of water and small spaces, especially of being locked in.

Poor vision, malnutrition an extensive list of phobias, injuries, Harry's file read like a one man walking disaster and Severus' heart raged against the people who had done this to the boy, his so-called family. What Severus didn't understand was how Harry had ended up with the Dursleys in the first place. As a wizard orphan he should have been placed with a wizarding family for adoption and at the first sign of abuse he should have been removed from the Dursleys' house at once. Poppy mentioned in the file that she pushed for that as soon as she saw him at Hogwarts that first night, he'd collapsed at the feast and that's when she discovered the past abuse, but Dumbledore had overruled her. Why? Why would the headmaster send a boy back to that ?

Severus didn't like to make assumptions until he'd had all the facts, he had to do a thorough examination, physical, magical and mental on Harry yet, but he hazarded a guess that Harry's mind had created this fantasy world so that he could escape the horror of his own situation. Harry, like a lot of abuse victims, found it difficult to accept that his relatives had done this to him and so he created a nemesis, this Lord Voldemort, who he could blame instead.

It would be tough to get Harry to open up, but Severus Snape was never one to walk away from a challenge.

***

Harry was still sitting on the bed an hour after Snape had left him there. The door into the hall was open and sometimes healers or patients walked by, but no one bothered him. He wondered if that was because Snape had told them to leave him alone. Harry sighed, he missed Hedwig, he even missed Ron despite it being Ron's fault that he was locked up in St. Mungo's.

The room just seemed like an ordinary bedroom, or what Harry imagined an ordinary bedroom would look like. His bed had a blue and white striped quilt with matching pillowcases and curtains at the window. The window itself was barred from the outside and Harry had to look away quickly. The walls were painted in pale blue, but there were no pictures to break up the blankness. A white wooden cabinet sat beside his bed with a jug of water, charmed to keep it cool.

There was a desk with a glass lantern sitting on top of it and a stool along one wall and on another, a half open doorway led to a bathroom. Harry tried casting spells on the lantern but it must have had an unbreakable charm on it as nothing happened.

Harry had never had his own bathroom before, he shared the boys' bathrooms at school and the Dursleys used to... but no, he wouldn't think of that. He didn't want to think, he wanted his mind to be blank, but it was never blank. Thoughts and memories swirled around inside his head like his own private horror movie and he just wanted it to stop.

He always had too many thougts when he was bored and maybe he'd feel better if he had something to do, but he was strangely listless too, not feeling like doing anything. Harry didn't feel the least bit tired, so he surprised himself by curling up on top ofthe covers and falling asleep as if he hadn't slept in years.

***

It was dark outside when he woke up, but the lantern on his desk was alight. Did it come on automatically or had someone come into his room while he was asleep? Harry shuddered, he didn't want to think of that. On the bedside cabinet was a plate of sandwiches and three chocolate biscuits. He stared at the food wondering if it was dosed with potions or medication. His tummy growled, but he wouldn't touch the food not knowing if it was safe to eat. They hadn't taken his wand, but remembering the lantern, Harry tried a spell on the food to see if it was tampered with. Nothing happened, he cast a few seplls but none of them worked. Obviously the patients couldn't do magic in the hospital.

With his stomach still growling, interested in the food Harry refused to eat, he made his way to the bathroom. It was fully tiled in the same shade of blue that decorated the bedroom walls. Was this hue meant to calm the patients or something? A large claw footed tub rested against one wall with a shower over it and a plastic shower curtain. Harry had never seen anything remotely resembling plastic in the wizarding world before and it seemed very incongrous to him. The toilet and basin were both white as well, with gold taps on the sink.

Harry walked over to the sink and took a good look at himself in the mirror above him. It had been a while since he studied his reflection so carefully, he never liked what he saw. His hair was sticking out almost vertical from his head, his face had a haunted pinched look. There wasn't much spare flesh and he had to admit that he did look rather wild and crazy. He didn't have bags under his eyes, he had a whole set of luggage and he knew that no one his age should have eyes that looked far older than seventeen. His scar was vivid against his pale skin and he scratched and scrubbed at it until his head was bleeding and scarlet dripped plop plop into the sink.

He stared at the blood for a long time and wondered how long it would take someone to bleed to death, if all their blood just drained away. Plop, plop, plop. Harry had nothing except his fingernails, the mirror had an unbreakable charm on it the same as the lantern and he couldn't use magic to transfigure anything into a tool more suited to what he wanted to do, so fingernails it would have to be. He used the sharp edge of his thumbnail to scratch deeply across his face, the only place the Dursleys had never hit him. The only place he'd ever been unmarked. He did it again and again until he drew blood and his cheeks stung, but it made him feel better. Until he thought of seeing the healer again tomorrow for all his tests and realised that without magic there was no way to heal the wounds and Snape would know what he'd done.

He turned on the taps and washed the blood from his scratches away, but the marks were still there and probably wouldn't heal for a few more days. When Harry emerged from the bathroom, Healer Snape was standing silhouetted in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. Harry didn't know where to look, the shame at what he'd been doing making his face heat.

"You didn't eat anything," said Snape, nodding his head in the direction of the plate but making no move to enter Harry's room. He didn't mention the scratches on Harry's face either.

"It might be poisoned," said Harry. "I can't do a spell to check."

"No, patients aren't allowed to do spells while they're here," agreed the healer. "But, Harry, do you really think someone is trying to posion you?"

"I don't know what I'm supposed to think anymore," sighed Harry, sinking down on the edge of his bed. "You can come in if you want."

"Thank you," said Snape and sat down on the stool by the desk. "Did you want to talk about what happened to your face?"

"No, not really. How do I know this is real? Maybe I'm not at St. Mungo's at all, maybe my mind made all this up, how do I know? Everything I think is happening to me right now could be an hallucination."

The healer eyed the plate of food again. "Harry, did you know that some people suffer hallucinations due to starvation? Especially if it has been going on for while?"

Harry felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. He knew, this man knew what the Dursleys had done to him. "She promised she wouldn't tell anyone," said Harry, horrified at how close to tears he sounded.

"Madam Pomfrey didn't do it to betray your trust, Harry. She was very worried about you, you almost died, did you realise that? There was also something unusual in your scan."

"What? What did she find?"

"We'll know some more tomorrow once we can get you examined properly. For now, I'd like you to eat something and get some rest."

"No," said Harry. "I won't give permission to be poked and prodded by anyone. You can't force me."

"Actually we can, Harry since you are an involuntary patient. I'm afraid you will have to submit to the scans and tests whether you want them or not."

Harry glowered at the man but really, he shouldn't have been surprised. His wishes had never mattered before, so why start now?

***

Harry lay down on the examing table, paper crinkling beneath him. Nurse Green was here this time, holding his hand and giving him a reassuring smile. Harry wished he could return it, but he couldn't, he was absolutely terrified and his heart was hammering so fast against his ribs he was suprised it didn't burst completely out of his chest.

For the moment he was dressed in his underwear and a thin hospital gown, but what if Snape needed him to be naked? The worry while he was waiting for the exam nearly seemed worse than what would happen in the exam itself.

"Breathe, Harry," said Snape as he came into Harry's field of vision holding his wand aloft as he peered into Harry's eyes with a blurry light, Harry's glasses having been removed for the physical part of the exam. A parchment and quill hovered in the air beside the healer, as if waiting for something.

"Myopia, astigmatisim, slight damage to retinas," said Snape and the quill scratched on the parchment. Snape then waved his wand and ascertained Harry's temperature. "Normal," the quill moved again. Snape felt Harry's neck with his hands. "Lymph nodes normal," he said to his dictating quill. The man had Harry sit up on the edge of the bed before tapping his knee with a small hammer. "Excellent reflexes," he commentated with a smile. "Probably why you were such a great Seeker, eh, Harry?"

Harry didn't reply, his throat was too constricted with terror. It was going to happen, he knew it was, Madam Pomfrey probably already told him how much of a freak Harry was. She must have noticed over the years he'd been in her care. Snape scanned Harry from head to foot with his wand, a soft green glow enveloping Harry and making him feel rather warm and drowsy.

Figures hovered in the air above Snape's wand, but Harry didn't know what they meant and wasn't sure that he wanted to. Snape was looking at him with some concern. "Harry, do you wish Nurse Green to stay while I discuss your results with you?"

Harry looked at the smiling face of the witch and imagined her recoiling in horror when she realised what an abomination Harry was. "No, thank you," he said softly. Nurse Green patted him on the arm before leaving the examing room and Harry was left to face Snape alone.

"You may get dressed now, Harry," said Snape, pulling a privacy curtain around the table. Harry dressed as quickly as he could and emerged from the small cubicle. Snape was sitting at his desk, reading the results of the scans he'd just performed on Harry.

Harry hovered by the chair until Snape waved him into it.

"Harry, some of your scans were unusual, do you know why?"

"No, sir," said Harry, clasping his hands in his lap.

"You seem to have an excess of female hormones in your body, something that Madam Pomfrey only noticed this year, not in any other year. Now normally a male wizard showing an excess of female hormones, we would suspect pregnancy but - "

"I can't be pregnant!" protested Harry. "I haven't - I've never - " He wasn't pregnant. He wasn't. It was a mistake. It had to be a mistake.

"Indeed, Harry, you can't be pregnant as you so rightly pointed out, you are still a virgin so that is not what is causing the excess of female hormones in your body. There is another option, but it is very rare indeed, both in the Magical and Muggle worlds. Harry, do you know what an hermaphrodite is?"

"No, sir," said Harry, feeling sick again. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't felt sick over something.

"True hermaprodites are very rare, Harry. It is a person who has both female and male characteristics, sexually, emotionally, magically, that rare thing, the perfect balance of male and female power. Have you noticed any changes in your body recently, Harry? It sometimes takes a while for everything to settle down during puberty."

"They said I was a freak," Harry whispered as he remembered those last few days at the Dursleys', the night he'd woken up to damp sheets, but only realising in the morning that it had been blood. His blood, emerging from a hole in his body that had never been there before. Behind his cock, he now had a vagina.

"Who, Harry? Who said you were a freak?"

"My - my relatives, the Dursleys. My aunt Petunia found me washing my sheets when I'd bled on them. I - I didn't know what to do, so I just put toilet paper down my underwear, but it wasn't absorbent enough. It soaked through my clothes and she saw, she - she made me pull my jeans and my underwear down and then she screamed at me when she saw that I now had both." Harry couldn't talk anymore, he broke down in sobs, feeling so humiliated.

He'd always felt different and now he knew he was. He was a freak, there was no denying it now. Harry just could not stop crying, he never realised he had so many tears in him. It was difficult to breathe, snot was running down the back of his throat and his chest ached as if it had been run over by a car or something.

"Please," sobbed Harry. "Please help me."

***

The words were spoken much sooner than Severus would have expected. He thought for sure Harry was going to need a lot longer before he admitted that there was anything wrong with him.

"I don't want to feel like this," continued Harry, his breath hitching as he tried to speak and cry at the same time.

Severus wanted to hug the boy on the chair, this boy who had been through so much but he knew at the very least it would be considered inappropriate at best and at worst gross misconduct from a healer. At that moment he didn't particularly care. From what Madam Pomfrey had told him both in person and in her files, the boy in question had never received any sort of comfort, in fact had avoided close contact at all costs. Not surprising considering what his relatives had done to him.

Severus stood up from his desk and knelt on the floor in front of Harry, placing his hands on Harry's knees. Harry glanced down at him, the tear tracks on his cheeks drying to silver, but he didn't move away from the touch. A few moments of silent staring at each other, then Harry flung himself from the chair and wrapped his arms around Severus' neck, which engendered a fresh bout of weeping. Severus could feel the tears dripping on the collar of his robes, but it didn't matter. Robes could be washed and Harry needed to do this.

Severus rubbed Harry's back, speaking in a soothing tone. "It's all right, Harry. No one is going to hurt you here. I will help you, I promise."

"Thank you," said Harry, his voice muffled against Severus' neck. "I'm sorry for being such a cry baby."

"Hush, Harry. Cry all you want if that's what you need to do."

"Do you really think I can get better, Professor? That I won't keep having these hallucinations? These nightmares?"

"We won't know till we try, will we?" asked Severus smiling down at him.

***

June 1998

"Harry Potter," called Professor Dumbledore, holding out the scroll containing Harry's NEWT results. The cheers from the rest of the student body were deafening. They were as pleased as he was that after three months in St. Mungo's, he was finally allowed out and he worked so hard to catch up with all his friends and take his NEWTs at the same time as everyone else. Professor Snape had worked miracles with him and Harry was now a confident young man, rather than one who jumped at shadows.

He still had the odd nightmare, but they were getting fewer now especially since he knew he would never have to see the Dursleys ever again. They couldn't hurt him anymore. He was free of that terrible house, those awful people. Harry grinned at Professor Dumbledore as the headmaster offered Harry his scroll.

"Thank you, sir," said Harry. "You don't know how much this means to me."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I think we all have an inkling, Harry. Congratulations again."

"Thanks," said Harry as he left the dais and headed back to his friends. Hermione was talking with her parents and Ron was trying to squeeze out from a his mother's arms. Harry felt a pang of regret at the sight. He had no family here to see him finally leave school. Would his parents have been proud of him? During his sessions with Professor Snape, he'd discovered that his parents had indeed died in a car crash, the Dursleys hadn't lied about that.

"Mr. Potter," someone tapped him on the shoulder. Harry turned round.

"Professor Snape! You came! I wasn't sure you could make it." For the healer was the only person Harry had sent an invitation to, he had no one else.

"Neither was I, but I wanted to see you."

"I'm not your patient anymore," said Harry with a smile.

"Indeed not, I wanted to see you in a more social capacity."

"You did?" Harry's heart beat frantically against his chest. He hadn't told Professor Snape about his crush on the man who made him better, but maybe he had guessed.

"Yes, as you so rightly pointed out, you are no longer my patient and I was just wondering if you would perhaps care to join me for dinner one evening?" Professor Snape was blushing, the man was actually blushing and Harry felt his heart soar to somewhere in the region of his throat.

"How about tonight?" asked Harry, for he hadn't made any plans.

"So soon?"

"Why not?" asked Harry, standing on tiptoes and kissing the man full on the mouth in full view of everyone in the Great Hall. He pulled away, both of them were panting for breath and Harry could feel the beginnings of an erection in his trousers. Now it was his turn to blush. Was he being too forward? The man had his arms around Harry's waist and didn't seem in any hurry to remove them.

"Why not, indeed?" he smiled down at Harry and leant in for another kiss.

THE END