ADisclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter... well, I don't think I'd be writing fanfiction for it, seeing as how the book would've went exactly as I would have wanted it to -_-

Harry stared down at the tap, water steadily dripping into a plugged sink. By now, the basin was flooded, but Harry did nothing to shut off the water.

A hand with brutal blue nails dug into the marble counter. The other, gloved, holding a blue bottle.

"You fucking pansy..." he whispered to himself. "Do it."

The hand on the basin squeezed, but raised itself to natural coal black hair. Harry glared at his reflection, so disgustingly mundane, and his eyes flickered for seconds to the blue bottle, and the clear one beside it.

His hand let the blue bottle go and shifted toward the tap, finally turning off the water. He slid a glove on his uncovered hand and picked up the clear bottle.

"Come on..." He murmured, holding the bottle over his head. "Do it."

With a deep breath, he squeezed the bottle onto his bangs, letting it go in random directions. He dropped the now halfway empty bottle and rubbed his hands all over his head, rubbing in the bleach. He let his hands dig into his scalp, spreading the liquid into the layers of his hair. With a teary grin, he looked over to the blue bottle.

Harry sat on his bed, variations of nail polishes spread out before him as he ran the remover over his nails. He looked up for moments and caught his reflection in the cracked mirror accross his room. His hair was alight with black, blue and blonde. His natural black was still visible in smears he'd missed, and only a bit of blonde showed under the light highlighter blue that he'd slammed into it.

Lowering his gaze with a scowl, he cleaned the rest of his old polish from his hand, and selected a neon much like the blue in his hair. He turned his body to face the wall, and began.

Thoughts of where he would be in only three weeks worried him as he carefully ran the brush along his nails. The reactions he anticipated were screaming in his mind, and unbeknownst to himself... he couldn't help but smile.

Blowing on his nails, he slipped on a white V-neck, took a few moments to run his eye pencil across his lids, and ran down the stairs.

"I'll be back later!" He called as he slipped on his red hightops, and didn't wait for an answer as he stumbled into a dead run out the door. Cutting accross the park, he ran as fast as he could down two blocks, turning the corner and slamming to a stop into a door.

"WAKE UP! GET UP! COME ON! UP UP UP!" He screamed, totally uncaring of any other resident on the block. He started pounding on the door. "GARRETT! GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!"

The door opened to reveal a blonde mop of hair, and glaring hazel eyes. "Trying to bother the neighborhood? If so, you're doin' a bang up- What the fuck did you do to your hair?"

Harry laughed nervously, fiddling with a strand that had retained it's lovely black color. "We~ll. I had a whim, and acted on it."

Garret snorted and ran a hand through his own hair, moving aside and gesturing for Harry to come in. "A whim that required you to fuck up your pretty hair? I don't believe a bit of that, Harry."

Harry atleast had the decency to looked embarrassed, and shuffled over to sit on the couch. Garrett soon stumbled over as well, dropping himself halfway into Harry's lap.

"I just... I don't want to spend my last year like the ones before it. I want this year to be different in every possible way. In order to do that, EVERYTHING has to be different."

"Do your fancy boarding school buddies know yet?"

"About?"

Garrett snuggled into Harry's chest, picking at the soft white T-shirt he wore. "About your little breakdowns. About your new pet. About your feelings and dreams and wishes and what you wanna do with your future? Do they know about your-

"No. They don't know yet." He murmured, resting his cheek on Garrett's soft hair. "They won't know until they figure it out. I'm not going to tell them, because I honestly don't think it's their business."

"Oooh, you're bad."

"The baddest."

"But seriously. Do you think it's a good idea? To go back? If it bothers you so much, then stay here with me."

Harry stayed silent for a second, fiddling with Garrett's hair. He let the request settle in his mind, and smiled. "I can't stay here."

"Why not?" His best friend whispered, his grip on Harry's shirt tightening.

"Because there are things bigger than teenage drama that I have to see to. There are people counting on me."

"...Why can't you count on them for a change? They can take care of themselves."

"Quit whining, Gary. It's unbecoming of you." He snorted, slapping his friend's head. Garrett shouted in surprise and glared playfully at Harry. "I'll be back after not too long, and then I won't have to leave again."

"You'd better not be lying, or I swear to christ I'll fucking EAT you." Garrett mumbled in a dead serious tone, leaning up to bite Harry's shoulder.

"I'm terrified."

"As well you should be."

"You know, Potter, it'll be that mouth that gets you hurt."

Harry giggled, sitting up and making sure the process included jamming his elbow into Garrett's crotch. "Oh really? I thought it'd be some drunken soul looking for a good shag, and happening upon my wondrous face."

"You're too into yourself." Garrett wheezed, thumping Harry's nose.

The two just layed there for a bit, reveling in one of the last days they had together before Harry left... Until Garrett declared that he'd been sleeping, and wanted to resume so.

With a slap to the face, a few seconds of banter, Harry had bid goodbye to his closest muggle friend and started back to his own house. He fiddled with his ear for a few moments, seemingly lost in thought.

"Maybe I should get a peircing?" He muttered to himself. Thinking it over, he decided he wouldn't get one in his lip. It seemed so overdone, and as much as Harry DIDN'T want to stick out, he'd thought better of it. "Perhaps my nose?"

By the time he'd gotten home from his leisurely strole, the sun had begun to set. He headed upstairs with not one word to his guardians and locked the door. After a few moments of biting his lip, he shut the blinds and pulled a box from underneath his bed.

Inside were all forms of everything you didn't want in your system. Turniquets, needles, sterilizer, plastic bags with various textures of powders and leaves. A small canister filled with marijuana, vials of both white and yellow liquids. There were seven different bottle of vodka, and a few coca-cola cans shoved toward the back, hiding the tequila Garrett said was girly. Down toward the botton there were pills littered everywhere, half of which Harry couldn't identify anymore, them being so roughed up. There were even razors every now and then.

Harry grinned sort of flatly.

The smell of marijuana soaked the air, spinning in every direction and fouling every surface with it's stench. Harry sat on the floor, back against the bed, a joint with a long precarious trail of ashes just waiting to fall from the end of the forgotten drug.

"...Catholic school was as viscious as Roman rule... I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black. I held my tongue as she told me "Son, fear is the heart of love." so I never went back...

If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied... and illuminate the 'No's on their vacancy signs. If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks, then I'll follow you into the dark...

You and me... We've seen everything to see... from Bancock to Calgary... and the soles of your shoes are all worn down... The time for sleep is now... but It's nothing cry about... We'll see each other soon... in the blackest of rooms..."

A tear slipped halfway down his face, and his brow scrunched in confusion. Harry lifted a pale hand to his thusly coloured face and felt wetness on the tips of his fingers. He stared at the salty mark marring his skin and was reminded of the man who'd become like a father to him.

After Snape had been bitten by Nagini, he'd asked Harry to take his tears, which Harry did. Soon, very soon after, he'd sent a patronus to Madame Pomphrey, and instructed the woman to treat the ex-Death Eater. It'd taken some encouragement, and croc tears on Harry's part, but all went well. As well as they could hope for, anyway. They'd soon discovered, after bringing Snape down the the mass of rubble that was once a treatment center, that the large snake had severed the nerves conecting Snape's arm to his spinal chord. The man had no feeling in his left arm, and ended up somewhat retiring after rehabilitation and being an assistant of sorts in the Hospital wing once Hogwarts had been rebuilt. Harry and Severus had... connected, one could say, and had grown very close.

And now Harry sat in his bedroom floor, eyes heavy from the intoxication, clothing black and ragged, the tears revealing pale white skin and ashy fingertips. His hair was in disaray, his neck was lined with scars and his pelvis held itself together with only pins. Pines that hurt his heart when he shifted.

Oblivious to the date and time, Harry stayed in his floor, occasionally lifting the once disgaurded blunt to drag.

"I'm so tired, Hedwig..." He whispered to the long dead bird.

A couple days later found Harry shifting restlessly, holding onto his trunk and waiting for the Weasleys to pick him up. The pins in his pelvis were aching, and somehow he knew it was going to rain. In all honestly, he'd been expecting harsh weather for days.

Harry felt a small tug on the hem of his pants, and looked down to see a small white cat tugging on his jeans. It looked starved and abused, the generic alley cat, and tore at Harry's slowly shriveling heart. The tall black-haired boy reached down, grabbing the small cat by the scruff and heaving it into his arms. The cat mewed unsuredly, but clung to the warmth the wizard exuded.

"You don't have anywhere to go, do you, little kitten?"

The pathetic little creature curled further into his Yellow T-shirt, shivering pitifully. Harry smiled and held it tight with his free arm, and at that exact moment, a loud popping noise filled the foggy london air. Harry looked up to see a bold, bearded face creased with lines of happiness, and he himself couldn't contain a small smile. The merry Haf-giant's face faltered for a moment when he set eyes on Harry's new hair, but it might as well have been imagined with the quickness of the good man's recovery.

" 'Ello, 'Arry! The Order sent me ta pick ya'up. 'd Think they'd gone daft with all tha runnin' around they've been doin'." Hagrid belched, rubbing his stomache in a sincere attempt to quell whatever problems it might have been having. Harry took liberty and stepped forward, pulling his trunk and new cat along.

"Whatcha' got there, boy? A cat? What you be needin' a cat for when ya got yerself that-

Harry's eyes darkened momentarily, but lightened up quickly enough. After all... it was just a dead bird. "I figured I'd need a new familiar, now that Hedwig is gone. It's taken me too long to get over her death... I've been acting like a child about it."

"...'Arry-

"Weren't you picking me up, Hagrid? We should quit wasting time and hurry along, before Molly has an anuerism."

Hagrid seemed slightly put out for a moment, but the cheery wrinkles returned before too long, and Harry smiled back and grabbed the large half-giant hand. A small tug behind his gut and he was standing outside the hidden entrance of Number 12 Grimauld place. Harry smiled, not from happiness, but from the excitement that came with anticipating his surrogate family's reactions.

"Go on, Boy. I have'te git back to the grounds, Fang's been right sick, he 'as. I'll see you at the first o' term."

Harry nodded andbid the man goodbye, never completely taking his eyes off of the space his Godfather's home should've been. When the giant apparated- a feat Harry couldn't really understand, seeing as how Hagrid's wand had been snapped, and he'd never really been magically talented- Harry took a smooth breath and started up the appearing steps. He ran a pale hand through his badly dyed hair and opened the loud wooden door to Ten faces.

Hermione, Ron, and Ginny all sat huddled on the couch, still unaware of Harry's presence, the twins hovering and laughing at something only they understood. Remus and Tonks were talking quietly near the adjacent wall, holding hands and allowing themselves the happiness of the moment. Molly and Arthur were the only ones to look up as the door opened, faces shocked and happy. Minerva sat undignified on the edge of the stairs, head in her hands. She looked like the world had tuckered her out completely, but that wasn't where Harry's attentions were. He set the nameless cat on the floor with a thump.

"Where's Severus?"

Seven of the ten faces were immediately on Harry, and five rushed over as quickly as they could.

"Harry!" Hermione cried as she and Ron came in for a hug, Ginny, Fred and George opting for a small pat on the shoulder. They all started talking at once and Harry couldn't really keep up.

"Guys! Where's Severus?" Harry wheezed.

"He's upstairs... Harry, wait!"

Harry ran past his friends and up the stairs, pausing for a moment to offer a comforting hand to Minerva's shoulder. She seemed to appreciate it as he continued up the steps.

"Severus? Where're you hiding?"

"In here, brat."

Harry rounded the corner into a pale room, where a snarky, greasy, crippled potions master was sitting on a cold looking bed, the sheets wrinkled and over used. The man looked worse for wear, the lines surrounding his eyes more prominant now. His arm hung distroph near his side, eyes upcast to Harry, who was completely overjoyed. He ran over to the bed and didn't even hesitate before he hugged his father.

"What in Merlin's name did you do to your head, brat?" He whispered and he wrapped his good arm around the teen's back.

"I got bored... I missed you."

Harry tightened his hold and buried his face in a pale shoulder. Tears started working their way into his eyes and he almost choked. "I didn't know what to do when I was by myself. My hips have been aching, and I've started to lose feeling in my chest. Everything is so dull now, and I... I couldn't do anything without you there."

Severus closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and rubbing his hand up and down Harry's back. He looked down at the teen, now 17, and sighed.

"How is your pet, Harry?"

"Alive."

"...You are positive?"

"Yes. Garrett's been helping me take care of him."

Snape snorted and Harry cocked a questioning eyebrow. "I doubt Garrett could take care of a hamster. What made you think he could take care of a pubescent pureblood?"

At this, Harry just laughed. "Instinct."

OMFGBBQ! What's going to happen? Maybe I'll update if you review :'c