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Severus was perplexed. 

He paced the cramped laboratory, back and forth, mind racing. It had been a good ten minutes since he’d threatened to Legilimise Potter, but there hadn’t yet been a knock at his door, a contrite-faced Potter ready to confess, or any sort of resolution to this incident. That was highly unexpected, and Severus wasn’t often wrong about things.

What on earth was going on? Potter obviously didn’t want to be Legilimised - the terror on his face when Severus had threatened it thoroughly proved that - but he still wasn’t revealing the location of the necklace. Why? If he thought Severus was going to find the information anyway, he had no reason to keep hiding it! It was an exercise in futility! 

Severus was at a complete loss. He liked to think he was rather perceptive, and a fairly good judge of honesty. Dealing with the Dark Lord and over a decade of experience as a teacher had given him a great deal of experience in separating truth from lies. Draco’s furious, tear-filled eyes had certainly seemed very sincere when he’d told Severus that Potter had been taunting him about the Malfoys’ arrest, and why on earth would he hide his own mother’s necklace? Severus knew how much Draco loved that thing. He often caught the boy running the golden chain through his fingers, expression pensive. That was what made Severus so utterly furious about this entire situation. That piece of jewellery was all Draco had of Narcissa because of the blasted fire, and Potter had ripped it away from him out of sheer spite.

But once the flames of Severus’ outrage had cooled to a smoulder, he couldn’t help but recognise that Potter’s protests of innocence had also seemed perfectly genuine. It wasn’t like he was a practised liar by any means. The boy could not so thoroughly mislead him…

But two people with contradicting stories couldn’t be telling the truth at once. What was Severus missing?

Severus was abruptly disrupted from his musings by a loud slamming noise. It sounded like the front door. He frowned. Had Draco gone out? He utterly despised the Muggle word, so that certainly wasn’t in character…

Severus swept out of the laboratory to go downstairs and check, but stopped short in the upstairs hallway. The boys’ bedroom door was wide open. Severus had shut it behind him after confronting Potter, and had instructed the boy to stay put…

Severus abruptly connected the lack of Potter in his spare room with the slamming front door and felt his blood run cold. His immediate thought was a break-in. 

But Sirius Black could not have broken into his house in broad daylight and disappeared with Potter. He’d warded Spinner’s End to the gills, it was impossible! Severus took a shuddering breath and shoved the panic behind his Occlumency shields. He needed all of his wits to assess the situation here. The terror could be addressed later.

He scanned the room. The window was shut and locked - no sign of a break-in. His spells showed no sign of magical activity. No sign of Black. He wouldn’t waltz out of the front door with the boy anyway, would he? The psychopathic bastard had a dramatic inclination towards explosions, and would have certainly taken pleasure in reducing Severus’ house to rubble if he’d come within a mile of the place.

Black couldn’t have been here. Severus’ shoulders sagged with relief.

Something odd had certainly happened here, though. From what Severus had seen, Potter wasn’t a particularly disorganised or messy child - in fact, most of his belongings stayed in his Hogwarts trunk, like he was preparing to be retrieved from the house at any moment. A futile, childish hope, especially since Albus had pointedly ignored Severus’ repeated begging for someone to get Potter and take him anywhere else in Wizarding Britain for the past week. 

But Potter’s belongings were now scattered all over the bedroom, like someone had gone through them in a hurry. Perhaps the boy himself…

And in an instant, as Severus connected the rifled-through belongings with the slamming front door, the fury came flooding back, far more potent and blinding than it had ever been. Had Potter genuinely just dared to storm out of Severus’ own house in a fit of pique over a righteous punishment? Not only that, but he’d dared to do so after Severus had specifically warned him against leaving the property just days earlier? That insolent brat! 

He stormed down the stairs, wand clenched in his hand, trembling with outrage. This was a new height of stupidity, even for the spawn of James Potter! The boy was going to be more than sorry when Severus tracked him down and brought him back here. The only silver lining to this horrid arrangement that Albus had cooked up was the ability to finally punish Potter as much as he liked for his misbehaviour. Potter was going to learn how to mind Severus in the next two weeks, of that he was determined…

After a brief glance into the living room to confirm Draco was still around, Severus strode out of the front door without a word. Severus knew the streets of Cokeworth like the back of his hand. He’d find Potter in an instant. He couldn’t have gone that far, after all…

But to Severus’ alarm, the boy had somehow managed to make it quite a distance in the two or so minutes it had taken Severus to come after him. He wasn’t visible in any nearby streets or the local park, even when Severus checked with several localised Scrying Charms. How far had he managed to travel on foot without being seen?

Over ten minutes had passed before Severus remembered that blasted Invisibility Cloak.

After letting loose a string of expletives that Minerva would harshly cuff the back of his head for speaking aloud, Severus regrouped and changed his spellcasting range. It was a pointless endeavour, though. Tracking Spells became less and less accurate when the area to search within was lengthened, and became practically worthless when used outside of a mile radius. They all came up blank.

Potter had vanished.

The panic he’d felt earlier came flooding back, increasing tenfold with every passing second. Why would Potter run off like this, with no warning, no explanation, and no destination? It seemed like a ridiculous overreaction to a threat of Legilimency, even for a boy as badly-behaved and impulsive as Potter.

Was Black somehow involved?

No. If Potter was under the Cloak, as he almost certainly was, then Black wouldn’t be able to see him, either. He wouldn’t have been able to snatch up the boy the instant he left the house. Besides, Severus was checking for that horrid man constantly. He’d surely know if Sirius Black was anywhere within a fifty mile radius of Cokeworth…

But despite his tentative confidence that Potter wasn’t currently being dismembered by a mass murderer, the panic continued to grow in volume. Where had Potter gone? If the precious Boy-Who-Lived had disappeared again - on his watch - then Albus’ reaction would be unbearable!

And, a reluctant part of Severus could admit, the idea of Potter being off somewhere on his own in an emotionally volatile state filled him with nervousness. He could dislike the boy and not want something to happen to him, after all…

After another twenty minutes, where he went through Cokeworth with a fine-tooth comb, Severus at last accepted defeat. Everywhere was coming up blank: the park, the supermarket, the high street, the abandoned factory, the old Evans house, the train station… the boy had clearly used magical means and had left the area. 

Severus heaved a deep sigh and Apparated back to Spinner’s End. He would start checking other locations shortly, but it could take quite some time. He couldn’t leave Draco for that long with no explanation.

Severus rushed into the living room, and Draco looked up at him curiously.

“Potter’s gone missing,” he explained quickly. 

Draco’s slightly smug expression quickly slipped into one of fear. “What?”

“I’m going to go and look for him,” Severus said, summoning a travelling cloak.  He fixed the boy with an urgent look. “Draco, do you know anything that could be related to his disappearance? Anywhere he might have gone?”

Draco stared at him for a moment, expression strangely hesitant. He opened his mouth, shut it again, and then slowly shook his head. “No.”

He’s lying. 

“Tell me what you know immediately,” Severus ordered, injecting his tone with as much gravity as possible, hoping it would cow Draco into honesty. He had no such luck.

“I was just - thinking of places he could have gone,” Draco said quickly, not meeting his eyes. “I know he stayed with the Weasleys last summer, I saw them in Diagon Alley together…”

“You’ve always been a bad liar,” Severus said. He narrowed his eyes. “It’s dangerous for him to be out alone! Tell me what you know, Draco! Immediately!”

Something wasn’t adding up here. Between the strange, conflicting stories, Potter’s refusal to confess even with the threat of Legilimency, and the fact that he’d actually left the house, Severus knew he’d overlooked something, and Draco obviously knew what it was. His face had gone pink and flushed - the look of a guilty conscience.

Draco stared at the floor, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Maybe he left because he didn’t want to get in trouble?”

Severus exhaled sharply through his nose and shut his eyes, using all of the Occlumency techniques at his disposal to try and manage his patience. He knew Draco. He would do whatever he could to try and squirm out of trouble. Severus just didn’t have time to properly interrogate the boy, since he’d surely leave out crucial information in an attempt to defend himself from the consequences of whatever had happened…

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Severus said crisply, staring straight into Draco’s eyes. “Legilimens.”

Despite what he’d told Potter, Legilimency was far more streamlined than randomly digging around in someone’s brain, especially since in untrained minds like those of thirteen-year-old boys, a guilty conscience tended to raise the relevant memories right to the surface. It was rather like not trying to think of pink elephants. 

The snippets began to flash through Severus’ mind, dizzying as usual.

Draco was sitting at a desk, staring at another letter to his parents, returned to sender by the Ministry… he was leaning against the garden fence, jeering “you’re used to muddy things, considering your bloodline,” to a red-faced Potter… the edge of his forearm was pressed against Potter’s throat as he shouted, “I bet your parents were glad they died so they didn’t have to put up with you anymore!” while Potter stared back at him, expression outraged and hurt all at once…

Severus couldn’t help but reel at the venom in Draco’s tone, and the fury and grief rolling through the boy in pulsating waves. It was jagged and potent in his mind, and leached into the edges of every thought and memory. 

Severus couldn’t let himself get lost in the whirlwind. He shook himself and pushed on.

Draco was lounging in the kitchen while Potter scrubbed the tiles, smug and satisfied… Draco was kicking the baseboards in his bedroom, furious tears burning in his eyes… he ran the necklace chain through his fingers, gold glinting in the sunlight, and an idea was forming… Draco was crouched at the cupboard under the stairs, nose wrinkled with disgust at the Muggle paraphernalia, before he hid the necklace in a plastic shopping bag… he was raising his fist to knock on the door to Severus’ laboratory, filled with cruel, furious determination.

Severus wasn’t one to gasp, but he allowed himself the dramatics just this once. So Draco had hidden his own necklace? Just to get Potter in trouble?

Outrage filled Severus, almost entirely destroying his concentration in the spell. He felt like an utter fool! Why had he simply assumed that Potter had taken Narcissa’s necklace without properly asking? No wonder the boy had put up such a fight when Severus had tried to intimidate him into confessing; he had nothing to confess to! 

Potter was a horribly misbehaved child, of course. The constant snark, sullenness and inability to follow the simple rules of Severus’ household were infuriating characteristics of the boy, inherited from his damned father, and had been driving Severus spare.

But Potter had never been a gifted liar. Severus knew that, but had still assumed Potter was somehow deceiving him, instead of looking at the obvious answer to the odd situation. He was a complete and utter idiot. 

Severus was just about to pull out of Draco’s mind when one last memory flashed through. Potter, his back to Draco, skin mottled with dark bruises…

What on earth was that? Alarmed, Severus snatched back the memory before it could disappear into the depths of Draco’s mind and prised it open. Had Draco been beating Potter up or something? How could Severus have missed such a thing?

The door to the bedroom swung open, revealing a shirtless Potter. His back was darkened with bruises of all shapes and sizes, colours ranging from deep purples and blues to faded greens and yellows…

Potter spun around, lips sharply jerking into a frown. “Hey, I’m changing here! Haven’t you ever heard of knocking? Get out!” 

Draco didn’t move, too busy staring at the additional bruises on Potter’s chest. He hated the idiotic Gryffindor, but couldn’t help but feel oddly worried about the state he was in. Those looked like they hurt! 

“What happened to you, Potter?” he hissed, horrified. 

Potters’ eyes darted to the shirt in his hand before widening with utter horror. His face drained of all colour and he threw his arms up in front of himself, cowering back.

“It’s nothing!” he said quickly, his voice laced with obvious terror. “I… I got into a biking accident. Yeah.”

Draco frowned to himself. What on earth was a biking accident? Something Muggle, he presumed. Muggles really were brutish, if that sort of injury was what their regular activities resulted in…

“If you tell Snape about it, I will murder you in your sleep,” Potter growled. “Seriously, Malfoy, if one word of this gets out, I will end you.” 

Severus finally dragged himself out of Draco’s mind, his heart beating rapidly. Draco was panting, and had a hand pressed to his forehead.

“What was that?” Severus asked rather shakily, the image of Potter’s bruised body practically burned into his retinas. 

Draco stared at him pleadingly. “I’m sorry I did it, Severus, I really am! I was just so angry with him, and I just wanted him to get in trouble, but I swear I didn’t realise he’d run away -”

“Stop babbling, boy!” Severus snapped. The panic was rolling through him in waves. “That last memory, those injuries! What was that?”

“He wouldn’t say,” Draco whispered, bunching his robes up in his fists. “He said it was some embarrassing Muggle thing - a biking accident, I think? That’s why he did all of my chores for me, and didn’t tell you I was saying those things to him, he didn’t want you to know and I said I’d tell you if he didn’t…”

Draco’s continual rambling about blackmail and apologies fell on deaf ears. Severus was reeling. Those bruises didn’t look like they came from a biking accident… and if they did, why would Potter go to such lengths to hide it? Why would he allow Draco to blackmail him over it? 

Because something else had happened to Potter. Something he’d go to great lengths to keep from Severus.

Dread coiled in his stomach, forcing Severus to fiercely Occlude his panic. Not now. He needed to find Potter, and for that he needed a clear head. 

Severus turned to Draco, giving him the fiercest look he could muster. “Go into your room and stay there. I’ll know if you leave, and it will only worsen the punishment you’re going to receive for all of this. I am extraordinarily disappointed in you, Draco. How dare you!” 

Draco looked utterly miserable. “I’m sorry, Severus -”

“Oh, you will be,” Severus growled. “This sort of behaviour is thoroughly unacceptable, boy! Why is it so impossible for you to simply do as you’re told? To behave with a modicum of human decency? You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Get out of my sight.”

He jabbed a finger into the hallway before sweeping towards the front door, too furious to care about the crumpled look of despair on Draco’s face at his harsh words. Severus made sure to check that the boy was beginning his journey upstairs before he hurried out of the house, warding it thoroughly upon his exit.

Severus ought to be hexed within an inch of his life for his stupidity. How could he have been so utterly blind? Why hadn’t he realised Draco had been blatantly lying about Potter stealing that necklace? Now, Severus had blamed Potter, threatened him with Legilimency, and had driven him out onto the streets. If anything had happened to him, it would be entirely Severus’ fault, and that knowledge sickened him.

But Severus still didn’t fully understand why Potter had fled. The only plausible cause was the Legilimency, of that Severus was quite certain, but that still didn’t answer any of his questions. What scared the boy so much about Legilimency? What could he possibly have to hide that he was he so worried about Severus seeing? 

Severus Apparated across half of Britain, it seemed, checking through every possible location that Potter might have travelled to. Cokeworth to Ottery St Catchpole, to Hogsmeade to Godric’s Hollow, to Diagon Alley, where he paused to vomit. Even Severus, who considered himself to have a rather strong stomach, couldn’t subject himself to that much long-distance, fast-paced travel without making himself sick. He rose to his feet on shaky legs and personally checked Potter hadn’t shown up in the Leaky Cauldron again. He’d been staying here after running away from home last time, after all…

After last time. Potter had run away from his relatives, hadn’t he? Severus knew that because he’d spent quite a while ranting at Albus about it when the boy had been pawned off on him after they refused to take him back. 

Severus had assumed at the time that Potter running away was yet another temper tantrum from a spoiled brat who didn’t want to deal with the well-deserved consequences of a Muggle-baiting incident. His relatives had presumably grown so sick of the constant misbehaviour, and had at last lost the will to carry on with an impossible case like him.

At least, Severus had thought so. He hadn’t bothered to mull over the incident in too much detail; all that mattered was that it had landed him with James Potter’s spawn for a month. 

Things weren’t quite adding up again. Why would Potter run away from people who spoiled and doted on him, even if he had blown up his uncle’s sister? Severus would have expected the boy to whine and moan and beg to be returned into the tender care of his relations; as a matter of fact, Severus had prepared a number of barbed, cutting retorts for when Potter inevitably requested to return home.

But the boy hadn’t said a word about his family. He hadn’t written to them, or asked to speak with them, or generally given any impression that he wanted to go home. It wasn’t like Spinner’s End was a luxury retreat, either. Potter was obviously miserable living with Severus…

But the boy barely acted like he had a family at all.

Severus left the Leaky Cauldron and shook himself. The particulars of the situation could be detangled later, when he’d actually found the blasted boy…

How had Potter gotten so far from Cokeworth, anyway? He hadn’t gone by the Floo; the front door had slammed, and Draco would have seen him leave through the living room fireplace, cloak or no cloak. He couldn’t have travelled by broomstick, either, since he’d left his Nimbus 2000 behind. The train only went through Cokeworth once an hour, and Severus had checked the platform before Potter would have had time to get out.

Aha! Potter had taken the Knight Bus the last time he’d pulled a disappearing act, hadn’t he? Severus stuck his wand arm out, and the thing appeared in an instant. Instinctively, his lip curled with disgust.

Stan Shunpike was an uninspired, dimwitted dunderhead with more pimples than brains. He had earned a Dreadful on his Potions O.W.L. and had destroyed an inordinate number of cauldrons during his time at Hogwarts. Severus was not fond of him, and Shunpike was terrified of Severus. He'd only graduated Hogwarts recently, after all, and anyone who had experienced Severus as a professor still felt the well-enforced terror of the teacher-student dynamic whenever they came across him in the outside world. It was remarkably easy to vaguely threaten Shunpike until he gave up the location Potter had been dropped in. Hampstead.

It was actually rather concerning how easily the Knight Bus conductor revealed Potter's location, as a matter of fact. Severus would have been thoroughly irritated by that if it wasn't so useful to him right now. He didn't bother actually riding the blasted contraption; after Shunpike revealed he'd dropped Potter in Hampstead, Severus Apparated directly there. Granger lived around here, Severus was fairly certain. He'd found out her address while begging the Headmaster to send Potter anywhere else on earth other than his house.

Potter must have run to his other friend. Weasley and his family were abroad, after all. Severus would have been quite happy to leave Potter with the Grangers, but since they were defenceless Muggles Albus would prefer to save them from a messy death via explosion if Black managed to track the boy down, and had ruled them out. It was remarkably inconvenient for Severus.

It was only once Severus arrived at the darkened, deserted house that he remembered Albus also mentioning that the Grangers were not currently in the country. Where could Potter be, then? Did he not know his friend wasn’t here? He certainly didn’t pay proper attention during Potions lessons, so it wouldn’t surprise Severus to learn he didn’t thoroughly read his correspondence from Granger. At any rate, that girl wouldn’t know brevity if it hit her over the head with a Beater’s bat…

Severus held out his wand. “Point me Harry Potter.”

His wand spun around in his palm for a few times before feebly pointing west, and Severus’ shoulders sagged with relief. He had been running out of leads, but this meant Potter was in the general area. He began to walk in the direction where his wand had pointed, occasionally recasting the spell to adjust his exact path. While he did so, Severus had time to think. He finally had time to pay due attention to his instincts, which were practically screaming at him about how truly wrong something had to be with Potter.

But Severus was biased, because Harry Potter could not be… abused. He could not be. This was Potter! Severus’ own miserable childhood was colouring his perceptions. It had done so earlier that week, when Draco had his meltdown after the Tesco trip, after all…

That whole thing had really set Severus’ teeth on edge. He had forgotten Potter was even in the house during the incident, in all honesty. After Draco had thrown the second ornament, Severus had been forced to rush in and restrain Draco so he didn't hurt himself, since he’d so completely lost control. Severus was so single-mindedly focused on dealing with the crisis at hand that he hadn't even realised Draco had hurled a projectile in Potter's direction until he'd started the journey to take Draco upstairs to calm down in his bedroom. The flinching had caught his eye, and what Severus had seen had made his stomach lurch. 

Potter was crouched against the wall, his trembling forearms shielding his face. Broken glass glittered on the floor around him, and several pieces had gotten caught in his messy, tangled hair. He had curled in on himself, and he looked so small.

That familiar position made Severus' vision blur at the edges for a moment as his mind was flooded with memories of himself in a similar stance, frozen in terror as his father threw dishes in one of his drunken rages, his mother sobbing to the side… 

To see Harry Potter crouched in the exact same manner Severus had adopted in his childhood in that very same house had sent him reeling. It had taken all of his skill to Occlude his emotions while he made sure Draco was calm enough to be left in his room before he returned downstairs to deal with Potter.  

It wasn't just right to see him like that. Quiet, defensive, frozen in place as Severus had closed the cut on his arm that he'd lied about for some inexplicable reason. He didn't even have it in him to snipe at the boy like he usually would, because Lily's eyes were staring at Severus, wide with terror, and it felt like he was making those snide remarks to her son, not Potter's spawn, and Severus just couldn't do that. In the end, he'd banished the boy to the garden because he quite honestly didn't know what to make of the situation.

Surely throwing your arms up in front of your face is a normal reaction to something being thrown at your head? Severus tried desperately to convince himself of that fact, as he was still doing at this moment, but it was becoming more and more difficult with each passing day. Potter just wasn’t anything like he had expected. He wasn’t brash, or loud, or generally attention-seeking like his father. Potter kept to himself, and went to great lengths to be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible. Severus wouldn’t even know the boy was in his house most of the time…

Why had he learned to behave like that? 

Severus’ instincts were normally quite good, and they were all telling him that something was wrong with the boy. He just didn’t behave like a normal teenager! 

But Severus had to be biased, because Harry Potter - Potter’s spawn, Lily’s son - he could not be abused. Even contemplating it made Severus shudder, panic twisting in his gut. That could not be what was happening here! 

But a series of unexplained injuries…

A fight. That was it, a fight. Potter had gotten the wrong end of the stick with a bunch of local hooligans, and he’d been beaten up. He was embarrassed about his failure to defend himself, so he hadn’t mentioned it. Gryffindor bravado at its finest. 

But if he’d been in a fight, there’d be evidence of injury on his face or arms, in all likelihood. Potter tended to wear short sleeves, and Severus would have noticed a significant amount of suspicious bruising to his forearms, and especially his face…

And Potter would have received some sort of medical treatment for the injuries back at home, which all looked rather serious. Severus needed to examine himself to make sure at any rate, since the Legilimency only gave him the vague, slightly fuzzy recollections of the contusions that had been pulled from someone else’s mind. He couldn’t judge their severity; all he knew was that there were quite a lot of them.

Had Potter’s relatives done something to treat them? They were Muggles, but surely they’d at least have been seen to -

But more comments of Potter’s started springing to mind. One from earlier. 

“Locking me in my room, that’s nothing! I’ve had far worse!” 

Tobias Snape, whipping a belt through the air while Severus cried. You’re biased. 

Perhaps Potter’s relatives were… strict. Wouldn’t like him getting in fights with local hooligans, especially when those fights were almost certainly Potter’s fault. The idiot boy was always getting himself into trouble at school, after all. He might have hidden the injuries from them to avoid trouble -

But more odd and alarming comments were coming back to Severus, quicker than he could chase them away.

“I don’t know anything about my mum, anything!” 

Severus couldn’t rationalise that one away like he had a few days ago, could he? Obviously, he had no clue when the boy was lying and when he was telling the truth. He’d assumed Potter was being dramatic - he lived with Petunia, for God’s sake! The woman was Lily’s sister! 

But his firm insistence that he truly knew nothing, the absolute outrage that Severus’ omission had stoked in him…

Perhaps Potter really meant it when he said he didn’t know anything. Severus knew Lily and Petunia had had a difficult relationship, but surely she wouldn’t have outright refused to tell the boy about his mother…

The panic was worsening, past even the Occlumency’s aid. Severus was struggling more and more with every passing moment to try and rationalise the situation like he had been doing this past week. He couldn’t help it; he was thoroughly worried about Harry Potter’s home life. 

But just as his swelling terror started becoming unbearable, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Severus froze in place and turned his head. 

Potter was hiding in the alley to his right.

Relief crashed through Severus. Thank Merlin, Potter was alright, even if he looked… strangely exhausted. He was alive. Black hadn’t gotten him, after all.

Severus, who never dealt well with panic, felt it instantly coalesce into anger. The amount of stress that awful boy had just put him through!

“Potter!”

He jumped upwards like a frightened cat. 

“What on earth are you doing out here?” Severus hissed, his nostrils flaring. “Are you mad?! Of all the foolish, impulsive - you could have been dead for all I knew! You didn’t inform a single person that you’d left the house! Do you have any idea how worried -”

Severus cut him off a moment too late, and did his best to get control over his emotions. The idea of admitting to the utter panic coursing through him to Potter was simply unbearable. Occlude. He had to Occlude…

“How did you even find me?” Potter whispered, his voice hoarse and ragged.

“I have my ways,” Severus said cryptically, taking a moment to look the boy over. He didn’t seem hurt - he wasn’t carrying himself like he was gingerly avoiding an injury, and he didn’t appear to have accumulated any new ones during his disappearance. Good. Still, despite himself, Severus found himself staring at the boy closely, like he could see straight through his shirt to the bruises beyond with x-ray vision. The bruises he hadn’t known about, that Potter was hiding…

Potter awkwardly cleared his throat. “Can you just leave?” 

Incredulity flooded through Severus at the hopeful expression on Potter’s face. “I’m not going to allow you to wander Muggle London alone at night! Are you truly deluded? You are coming back with me immediately! What prompted you to engage in such an utterly foolish stunt?”

“I was trying to get away from you and Malfoy, actually,” Potter growled. 

Guilt writhed in Severus’ stomach yet again. How had he not seen it? How had he been misled by a child? Perhaps Minerva was right when she said he was prejudiced against the boy.

Severus bit back a sigh. This could all be dealt with back at Spinner’s End, especially since he really wanted to take a look at those injuries. He was rather concerned that there was something broken he didn’t know about. Severus took a step forward, only to jerk back sharply when Potter plunged a hand into his pocket and aimed his wand directly at Severus’ chest.

“Don’t!” he shouted. “Stay back!”

It was only then that Severus took in the look of abject terror on Potter’s face. How had he not realised before that the boy was obviously scared out of his wits? He was shaking like a leaf! Severus swore under his breath while he held his hands out, hoping he could calm the boy. 

The boy who was so scared that Severus was about to attack him that he felt forced to draw his wand.

“Merlin’s beard, I’m not going to hurt you, Potter!” he said, utterly horrified. Did Potter really think that of him? Why? Severus hated children as a general rule, and made that hatred well-known, but he’d never raise his hand or wand to them! What sort of monster did Potter take him for?

“Put the wand away, now.”

“Oh yeah?” Potter said rather defiantly, keeping the wand aloft. “Forgive me if I’m not so sure about that.”

Severus pinched his nose, thinking hard. He needed Potter to put the wand down before he cast something, because the Ministry of Magic most certainly could not get involved again…

Well, sometimes the stark truth could be the most persuasive argument.

“Let me take a different approach, then. If you cast a single spell, the Ministry will once again swoop down onto you for a violation of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. I’m sure you would rather not risk expulsion for a second time this summer?”

Potter’s breathing was so rapid that it was harsh and audible, echoing through the alleyway. He slowly put the wand away. Severus would have been relieved if he wasn’t so utterly horrified by what he was witnessing at that moment. Potter was still shaking, and he’d gone completely white.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping Potter would relax.

"Oh, fuck you," he spat, his eyes dark with scorn. 

Severus didn’t even have it in himself to feel angry, because Potter was still looking at him with so much fear, green eyes - Lily’s eyes - wide, pupils dilated, and was he bracing himself? Severus felt truly unwell. Something was wrong here. Something was deeply, truly, wrong.

"I'm really not going to hurt you," Severus repeated. "Potter, why do you think -"

“Leave me alone,” Potter muttered. “Please.”

Something in Severus’ chest twinged unpleasantly. “No. That would be dangerous and negligent.”

Potter shrank back against the wall, wrapping his arms around himself. He was shivering quite violently by now. He didn’t even have a jacket, but Severus doubted that was the only reason behind the shaking. 

At this point, the utter alarm was too much for him to handle, so Severus took a few moments to muster up the strongest emotional Occlumency shields he could create. He conjured up the image of Professor Snape, bat of the dungeons, prepared to deal with an errant student. Professor Snape was far more capable of handling this than Severus, who was currently on the verge of completely losing his head, which would just make everything worse…

He surveyed the boy imperiously.

“So, Potter,” he drawled. “What exactly was the plan here, hmm? Did you even have one?”

The boy’s eyes flashed. “Yes, actually. I was going to go to Hermione’s family.”

“Miss Granger, who is currently abroad with her parents?”

Merlin’s beard, did all Gryffindors lack the ability to plan properly? 

“She said they’d be back by now!” Potter said angrily.

“Well, you clearly misunderstood her,” Severus said with a shake of his head. “Her house is empty. It is also, I might add, half an hour by foot in the opposite direction to where you were walking. If this was your plan, you really need to sort out your appalling sense of direction…”

“You were at Hermione’s house? What?” 

Potter’s look of abject horror would have been rather amusing if Severus wasn’t currently too busy suppressing all his emotions to feel much of anything.

“I was looking for you.” He hesitated, then decided to take the plunge. “How about we go back to Spinner’s End so we can talk somewhere a bit more civilised than a dark alleyway?” 

“Oh, we’re going to talk, are we?” Potter asked, his tone biting. “Or are you just going to read my mind?”

Severus exhaled loudly. Anger at himself surged past his shields, sharp and caustic. “I was never actually going to do it, Potter!”

“You sure sounded like you were planning to!” Potter said indignantly.

“It was an empty threat to make you confess!” Severus hissed. This really was his fault, then. Merlin’s beard…

“When you still refused to say anything, I did start to realise I could have misjudged the situation, but by the time I came to speak to you about it you’d vanished!” 

“Well what was I supposed to do?” Potter shouted, hands curling into fists. “You were going to go through my memories, you wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said or did!”

Severus gritted his teeth. He knew what he had to do here, but the idea of doing it was truly repugnant. 

“That was wrong of me,” he admitted reluctantly, refusing to look at Potter. “I had no reason to believe you a liar outside of my pre-existing prejudices, I spoke to Draco, and he told me that he framed you for stealing the necklace so that you would get in trouble. I have been rather unjust, I fear.”

To Severus’ immense frustration, Potter’s scowl somehow deepened. His apology had had absolutely no effect. What a waste. 

“Potter, come on,” Severus pleaded. He couldn’t believe he was being reduced to begging with an ill-tempered adolescent. The mortification truly rankled. "You obviously can't stay here. You realise that, don't you?"

“Why do you even care?” Potter shouted. “You hate me, I know you do! Stop acting like you give a damn about what happens to me and leave me here! I’ll manage by myself. I always have.”

“No. I am not going to leave,” Severus said, wishing he could pace. What was that supposed to mean? He’d always managed by himself? Why? 

What on earth was wrong with Harry Potter? Why had he run away from his relatives? Why hadn’t Petunia told him about Lily? Why was he covered in mysterious, unexplainable bruises? The questions were really starting to become overwhelming.

Potter was staring at him with a mixture of fear and hatred, and the guilt was crushing into him with more force than the Cruciatus Curse. Severus wished he could turn his eyes to the heavens and apologise, not to Potter, but to her.

I’m sorry, Lily. I’m sorry I treated him the way I have, I’m sorry I drove him away, I’m sorry I can’t figure out what’s wrong with him, and I am so sorry I’ve failed you again. I don’t know how to make it right. Help me, please help me…

Well, maybe there was something Severus could do to make it right. It was only utter desperation to get the boy to come with him that motivated Severus to speak at that moment. The words started tumbling out of his mouth before he could truly think them through, or decide what he was saying.

“Harry, I… I first met Lily in the park one day,” he said softly. Potter’s head jerked up abruptly, and the scowl vanished from his face. An expression that was half shock, half hunger replaced it, and Severus knew he had to continue. This might just work. He drew in a halting breath and ploughed on. “We were both nine years old at the time. I instantly knew she was a witch, because she simply had the most wonderful magic. She used to grow flowers in the palm of her hand, or jump from the highest point off a swing and just float down… you have her eyes, you know.” 

Severus was rambling and he knew it, but he couldn’t focus. His mind was flooded with images of streaming red hair, dancing green eyes, childish laughter, all laced with heart-stopping pain, a knife between his ribs, just as raw and unbearable as the day she’d died.

I miss you, Lily. I miss you every day. Please - help me help him.

“What I mean to say from all this," Severus said when he trusted his voice to remain steady, "is that your mother was one of the only true friends I ever had in my life. She was nothing but kind to me despite my many flaws, and I would be dishonouring her memory if I allowed you to rot on the streets in the cold. In fact, I already have been dishonouring her by treating you so unfairly, and I owe both Lily and you an apology. I’m sorry, Harry.”

I’m sorry, Lily. More sorry than you could ever imagine, wherever you are…

“I’d appreciate it if you came back to Spinner’s End with me so we can talk properly,” he said softly. “Things are not going to continue in the manner they have for the past week, I promise you. Can you please just come with me already?”

Potter’s silence was contemplative. At least he hadn’t outright rejected Severus’ suggestion, as repellant as he might find it. Severus bloody well hoped he was thinking it over, because he had completely run out of options apart from grabbing the boy when he let his guard down and forcibly Apparating him back to the house, which he just knew would go wrong. Locking up a kicking and screaming Potter in his house could only cause more issues. 

It was all going wrong, wasn’t it? If Albus was willing to sack Severus, he’d have certainly done it by now for this whole catastrophe with Potter. Perhaps he still would - it never hurt to hope - but Severus never got that lucky. No, if Albus found out about any of this, Severus’ punishment would be a series of guilt-inducing lectures that left him feeling like utter scum. He’d rather be unemployed and destitute any day.

Severus abruptly realised the boy was staring at him, eyes blown wide with fear, like he knew what Severus was plotting. His lips were a little bloodied. He bit them a lot. Severus had noticed that. Nasty habit, he’d previously thought…

Nervous habit, he thought instead.

“Harry?” he said softly, jolting the boy to attention. He watched Severus hesitantly for several moments, opening and closing his mouth like he was struggling with the decision to speak. Severus was just about to snap at him to bloody well spit it out already when Potter beat him to the punch.

“If I do come back, will you tell me more about my mum?” 

Severus had made the conscious decision many years ago to be a heartless bastard. Whatever remained of his compassion, sympathy and human decency had been frozen into an icy block in his chest cavity the day Lily died. He felt nothing, and quite frankly didn’t give a damn about the shallow woes of others. He was too bitter and jaded to bother caring.

Severus was now coming to the rapid realisation that he did have a heart, seeing as it felt as though the organ had been forcibly ripped out of his chest with the boy’s words.

It felt like a physical blow, the tremulous hope and fear mingling in Potter’s voice. He was really so desperate to hear about Lily that he’d agree to come back to deal with Severus, who he very clearly hated, for the mere possibility of hearing about his deceased mother? 

What the bloody hell had Petunia been doing with him all these years?! Severus had been almost certain the boy was lying to him the other day when he’d claimed ignorance, but here stood the proof of the complete opposite, staring him right in the face with Lily’s pained eyes! Petunia hadn’t told Potter a damn thing! Was she honestly that bitter?

You didn’t tell him a thing, either, a small, nasty voice at the back of his head whispered.

Well that was an utterly ridiculous comparison! Severus didn’t owe the brat a thing, particularly considering the fact that he was Potter’s spawn, while Petunia was the boy’s aunt! She was family! She certainly owed him far more than Severus did -

But Severus had passed along the information that had resulted in this very boy’s family being murdered. He was the reason Potter remembered nothing of his mother. 

His fault. 

Severus sucked in a breath and pressed his lips together, the pain just as dark and agonising as it had been thirteen years ago. He was a monster, one who owed this poor boy anything he could offer up after everything Severus had done. 

Potter was watching him expectantly. Severus Occluded, remembered his priorities - get Potter home. He managed to choke out, “I will endeavour to, yes.” 

The sincerity of his statement was presumably undercut by the mental self-flagellation Severus was currently subjecting him to, as Potter’s face crumpled into a look of abject misery. Severus hadn’t been aware that he could feel worse about himself than he currently was, but was quickly proven wrong when the boy’s green eyes turned dull and hopeless, sending a sharp jolt of contrition through him.

“You have to understand that this is a very difficult matter for me to discuss,” Severus added swiftly, wanting to get that look off Potter’s face as quickly as he could. “That is the reason I reacted in the manner which you witnessed when you confronted me the morning after visiting with Maureen. Lily’s life and death is an area of great pain for me, and I struggle to speak about her.”

Potter’s face fell. “If it’s too painful for you, I don’t want to make you talk about her -”

“No.” Severus interrupted, holding up a hand for silence. “That is not what I meant. I will talk to you about Lily if you return with me now, I am simply asking for a bit of patience in the matter.”

A lot of patience. Severus could not believe he had just agreed to do this… His memories of Lily were locked up in the deepest recesses of his mind, saved for particularly maudlin evenings of self-hatred. To share them with her son? He didn’t know how he would bear it. 

Potter looked at him like he was stupid, an expression Severus was far too familiar with seeing on the face of the brat’s father. “Well yeah, of course.” 

Ah. No, it was just basic human decency. Merlin’s beard, Severus was an awful person. He felt like a complete and utter arse. 

But at least the boy was coming back to the house. He’d achieved one thing in the pathetic farce that was his life. Severus outstretched a hand, palm facing up. “Shall we return, then?”

“Fine,” Harry said reluctantly, rubbing his hands across his arms and looking remarkably anxious. He was worrying his lip between his teeth again.

“Splendid,” Severus said, unable to stop the relief from colouring his features. “I will now take your arm to Apparate us back, then.”

Potter was almost unnaturally still as Severus made his way over to him, taking great care to make his movements slow and predictable so he wouldn’t startle the boy. Even with that consideration, the boy still went tense as Severus’ hand wrapped around his arm.

Potter was quite flinchy. Many children were flinchy around Severus; he tended to have that effect. This meant nothing. 

This meant nothing.

He still had to figure out where those blasted bruises came from when they got home. He was not going to link the jumpiness to the bruises. Not until he was home, anyway. That was a problem for Severus Snape in five minutes. Right now, he was going to Occlude as aggressively as he could and think of nothing but the potential of Sirius Black jumping out like some sort of bogeyman to blow them to bits. Prioritising was of the utmost importance.

Severus Apparated them both to the alleyway near his house and made to start walking along, but Potter immediately lost his footing. He began to dry heave.

“You don’t Apparate often, do you?” Severus remarked.

Potter shook his head between gasps. “No… first time was with… with Dumbledore.”

“Professor Dumbledore,” Severus corrected absently. He was almost impressed that the boy hadn’t lost the contents of his stomach entirely, but then had a nasty realisation - Potter hadn’t eaten anything. Severus had been too furious to sort out dinner on time before he ran off, so he hadn’t eaten since lunch - 

Potter hadn’t eaten lunch either. They’d gotten into an argument and he’d stormed out into the garden without finishing his food. The guilt only grew. Not only had Severus driven the boy to run away, he’d also starved him…

Severus took a shuddering breath. “Come on, let’s go. It's not safe out here.”

He walked them along, scanning the darkened street corners on his journey, and vowed to feed up the boy as soon as he dealt with those bruises. He was rather thin… too thin. Severus’ hand should not have so easily encircled Potter’s bicep.

When Severus had been strong-armed into doing this, one of Albus’ main selling points had been that the brat was largely self-sufficient at his age. Apparently, the barmy old codger did not seem to take on the ability to feed oneself when it came to that definition. He never ate unless Severus prompted him to! It was so odd. The majority of adolescent boys were like bottomless pits whose appetites could never be satisfied in his experience…

When they returned to Spinner’s End, Severus made sure to lock the door and applied every protective ward he could think of. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice…

“Go into the living room and wait for me,” he ordered. “We still have a lot to talk about.”

Severus swept away to his potions cupboard, where he stored the majority of his healing remedies. Judging by Draco’s hazy memories, it was mainly bruising. Bruise Balm would therefore suit, as well as a general salve to relieve pain and heal other potential wounds…

Severus took a deep, shuddering breath as he considered how to handle this. There were two options here for what had happened in his mind. Option one: Muggle fist fight. Option two…

Abuse.

No, no, no!

Severus Occluded the panic and decided on a plan. He’d get Potter to admit it. This was almost certainly just a horrid misunderstanding. Option Two simply had to be considered because it would be foolish to not at least consider it. It was in all likelihood his paranoia talking…

When Severus walked into the room and Potter practically jumped out of his skin, it became slightly harder to ignore Option Two. Potters simply were not jumpy. 

He placed the potions down on the coffee table and settled into his armchair, cast a Silencing Charm at the door, and examined Potter closely. He was staring at Severus like he was expecting to be poisoned at any moment. Severus took a deep breath and tried to think of the best way to address this. He needed to muster some tact, which never came naturally to him.

Potter had begun to squirm uncomfortably by now, so Severus decided to simply rip the plaster off and get it all over with. If he waited until he found the right wording, they’d be here all night. 

“Before we discuss any of this running away business, I have something quite important that I need you to explain immediately,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “You see, when Draco informed me about the circumstances which forced your departure, I also found out something else. A secret that you’d asked him to keep from me.”

Potter’s face instantly turned milk white. “He’s lying.”

“How can you know that Draco is lying if you haven’t heard what this secret is?”

Potter looked like he wanted to kick himself. The boy wore his emotions on his sleeve; his face was full of pure terror. He certainly wanted to keep this hidden…

“According to Draco,” Severus continued, “he walked into your bedroom a few days ago and saw a series of strange injuries on your back and chest, which you seemed very defensive about.”

Severus was very, very careful not to mention how he’d come across this information. Potter already looked half-prepared to bolt, and if anything would finally make him sprint away, it would be Legilimency. Severus was almost certain of that, considering the evening’s events.

“Can you explain to me how you sustained these contusions?”

“I - I fell out of a tree,” Potter muttered. His eyes darted to the left before returning to meet Severus’ gaze.

He had the same tell for lying as his mother.

“Why would you feel the need to go to such drastic lengths to hide a tree-climbing accident?” Severus asked, doing his best to look stern. "Cease with the lying, Potter."

“I’m not!" Potter said, voice rising in volume. "I’m not lying!”

“You are,” Severus said quietly. “And I would appreciate it if you didn’t. As I said to you earlier, I have no reason to distrust your word or to brand you a liar at the moment, and I would not like for that to change.”

Why wouldn’t he say what the true cause was? Surely he realised that his behaviour was suspicious!

But of course, Potter didn’t behave with any of the subtlety Severus had adapted to expect from the Slytherins he interacted with most often. He behaved like a Gryffindor: brash and brazen. Absolutely no capacity for subtlety or subterfuge. He was an open book. 

“You informed Draco that you were involved in a biking accident, which is where you claimed the injuries came from,” Severus continued, tapping one finger against the arm of his chair. He’d have liked to pace, since the nervous energy fizzling through him could only be alleviated by repetitive movement of some variety, but didn’t want to alarm the boy. “Not that he knew what that was, of course… I doubt that’s what really occurred, however.”

“Malfoy doesn’t know what a bike is?” Potter asked, eyebrows furrowing with confusion.

“No, he does not. Don’t change the subject,” Severus said sternly. “I need you to tell me what actually happened to you.”

“Nothing’s happened!” Potter shouted, temper flaring in an instant. It escalated with the speed of a lightning strike. His face reddened, fists clenched, and shoulders tensed with rage.

He really didn’t want Severus to know, and that just made him all the more curious. 

“These injuries can’t have appeared out of thin air,” he said with a shake of his head. “There has to be some sort of explanation, and I demand to hear it. What happened, Potter?"

“It’s none of your bloody business what happened to me!” Potter bellowed. “I’m fine, he’s exaggerating, so just leave it!”

“It is my business, as a matter of fact,” Severus said coolly, irritation growing by the second. Being shouted at by belligerent children never failed to provoke him. “Your reluctance to explain is only confirming my suspicions. As the person with authority over you currently, I need to ensure you are safe. Tell me what happened to you, and tell me now.”

“I - I got into a fight. Back in Little Whinging.” His eyes flicked to the left, then back to Severus. Lying.

“No, you didn’t!” Severus at last gave into the urge to pace. Option One was out.

And all that left was Option Two.

Abuse.

Occlude, Severus fiercely instructed himself. He could not feel any of this now, it was imprudent. Occlude, Occlude, Occlude -

“I did!” Potter hissed, distracting him from his meditations. “I just didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to get in more trouble!”

“What have I said about falsehoods?” Snape hissed. He put his hands on his hips and loomed over the boy. If he had to intimidate the brat into talking, then so be it. “I know you’re not telling the truth, it’s written all over your face!" 

He took a few steps forward, and crouched down so his face was level with the boy’s. His eyes were terrified, and Severus felt something in the cold recesses of his heart twist. As much as he disliked Potter, he knew this had to be a horrid ordeal for him to go through.

"Your reluctance to explain coupled with your general behaviour over this past week has told me almost everything I need to know, do you realise that? Now are you going to say what we both know happened here, or do I have to come out and say it for you?” 

“You don’t have to say anything because there’s nothing to say!” Potter’s voice was shaking and cracking. Severus knew he couldn’t string it out any longer - it was unfair to the boy. Someone had to speak the words, and apparently, it had to be him.

But what if Severus was wrong? Potter Junior would surely react with an explosion of outrage if Severus falsely accused his relatives of abuse! What if this really was just his own experiences surging back up to haunt him?

But as much as he hated it, Severus was nearly certain he was right. He met Potter’s green gaze and steeled himself to speak the words.

“Harry,” he whispered. “Your relatives were the ones who hurt you, weren’t they?”

It was as though the life went out of him.

Lily’s eyes turned dull and despairing. Glassy, pained, practically dead. Potter - Harry - wrapped his arms around himself, shaking like a leaf. He looked ill.

“I need you to tell me, Harry,” Severus said in a strained voice. “Am I right?”

Please say no, Severus prayed to every deity he could think of. He could still be wrong. There could be another option he was missing -

But the boy nodded.

The weight of confirmation hit Severus with the strength of a lorry, shattering his emotional shields to fragments, forcing him to feel the full torrent of bitter fury that coursed through him like an electric shock. Everything strange about the boy seemed to slot into place all at once. Running away from his relatives, not knowing a thing about Lily, the temper, the cowering in fear as projectiles were thrown in his direction…

Harry Potter was abused. Lily’s son was abused.

Severus wanted to scream. He wanted to grab every single breakable item in this room and smash it to smithereens, he wanted to punch his fists against the walls until his knuckles bled, he wanted to grab Petunia Dursley’s unnaturally long neck and wring it, squeeze until he felt bones and ligaments pop beneath his livid fingers -

He wanted to cry. Severus hadn’t wanted to do that in a very long time. 

All of Severus’ perceptions were ripped to tatters. As he watched Harry, for the first time, Severus did not see James Potter Junior. Nor did he see Lily Evans, as a matter of fact.

Severus saw himself.

An angry, abused boy, with inexplicable injuries, a nasty childhood he didn’t speak of, and relatives he couldn’t stand. He had been in this boy’s shoes two decades ago. 

Severus then registered that Harry was not breathing. His white face had gone taut, his eyes had widened to the size of dinner plates, and his chest was heaving as he hyperventilated. He didn’t have any Calming Draughts on him at the moment, since he’d been meaning to brew a fresh batch that evening for Draco but had been distracted by the necklace incident. At any rate, Severus doubted the boy would drink anything he was given anyway. He needed to handle this the long way.

Severus strode forward and grabbed Harry’s forearms, hoping the contact would ground him. The boy was shaking again, and his hands had locked up into claw-like shapes, rigid fingers digging into his thighs. “Take a deep breath - breathe in and out with me.”

The boy stared at him in a panic-stricken haze, so Severus decided to lead by example and began to take deep, exaggerated breaths. Goodness knew he needed it, at any rate. “Copy me.”

Harry began to copy him, his frenetic breaths gradually lengthening into deeper inhales and exhales, all in time with Severus’ breathing. He felt the boy’s muscles relax beneath his grip and the shaking steadied into a slight tremble. They did this for about five minutes before Harry seemed to realise what was going on. He ripped his arms out of Severus’ grip and shrank in on himself, and stared pointedly at the wall. A red flush crept across his cheeks.

Severus allowed him a moment of silence, as he was occupied with his own thoughts. If someone had told him two weeks ago he’d be sitting in his living room with James Potter’s son, aiding him with a panic attack, he’d have laughed in their face. 

He presumed this was some sort of twisted, karmic justice for everything he’d done. Severus certainly deserved to be punished - of that he was painfully aware - but the boy deserved better than his incompetence. 

“Sorry,” Harry whispered, voice barely audible.

“There is no need to apologise,” Severus said, doing his best to sound brisk and unbothered by the incident. Many of his Slytherins hated a spectacle in these matters, and he was fairly certain Potter - Harry - would be the same. “This sort of discussion would send anyone into a panic attack, I believe. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

Harry didn’t respond. He simply continued to stare at the wall, looking completely and utterly miserable.

Severus winced, abruptly remembering that he still had to deal with those bruises. Good grief, this was not going to go down well…

But Severus knew how to handle this. He was qualified. He had training!

This needed to be done, no matter how much the boy protested. This was nothing new to him. He’d dealt with plenty of abused Slytherins during his tenure as a Head of House. It was always unpleasant, but he knew what he was doing. It was bearable.

But not with Potter’s brat. Not with Lily’s son. The boy he’d sworn to protect from harm. Severus couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed…

He was lost. Utterly lost.

He took a minute to collect himself, and cleared his throat. “I need to see these injuries.”

“Oh, hell no!” Harry hissed. He threw himself to the other side of the sofa and put his arms up defensively. It was a sick mirror of the day Draco had thrown that ornament at him, and Severus hated it, he hated that he’d evoked that reaction. He felt like his father.

“Harry…”

“No!” he shouted. “I’m fine, just leave it!”

“I can help,” Severus said, gesturing to the pots on his table. “And I need to look at them so I can properly ascertain their severity. Diagnostic Charms can only take you so far.”

I’ve been here ages, now, they barely hurt anymore!” Harry said, his eyes darting to the left and back up again. 

“I cannot allow you to remain hurt without doing something about it,” Snape said, moving closer. “The injuries could be infected, or something that can’t heal without medical intervention -”

“Why do you even care?” Harry shouted, his face agonised. Severus flinched at that look of pain, for he knew it well. He’d often worn it himself. “You’ve been nothing but awful to me the whole time you’ve known me, what’s changed?! Why do you suddenly care about any of this?”

Because I owe it to Lily. I will help you, even if you hate me for it. I always will.

Severus abruptly took in the expression on Harry’s face and cursed himself. The boy had gone tense and stiff yet again, examining Severus with a look that was part fear and part resignation. The look of someone expecting a sharp strike.

Severus dug his nails into his palms and did his best to exude calm, even though within he was barely resisting the urge to loose a whirlwind of Dark magic. “You won’t be in trouble for getting upset. In fact, if shouting at me makes this process easier for you, feel free to carry on.”

“There isn’t going to be a process because you’re not seeing them!” Harry growled. Severus hugely preferred him angry to terrified, a shocking discovery to make. “It’s not like I’m on death’s door, it’s just a couple of bruises! I’m fine!”

“I need to see them so I can be assured of that and treat the injuries as needed,” he said, lacing his fingers together. “I have a duty of care, you realise? I promise you that I will be as quick as possible.”

“I don’t want to,” the boy said rather petulantly.

Severus sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, resisting the childish urge to hide behind them completely. This was so much more difficult to handle than he’d expected. It was particularly hard to resist the urge to storm out of here and murder the Dursleys.

Severus needed help.

“Do you want me to try and track down Madam Pomfrey so she can do it instead?” Severus prayed the woman wasn’t intoxicated. Poppy was far too fond of Muggle nightclubs for a woman of her age, and Severus needed her help so desperately. “I believe she is currently holidaying in Ibiza, but she would in all likelihood come over here and -”

“I don’t want her seeing anything either!” Harry protested hotly. 

Severus felt some of the hope for a resolution die away. He needed Poppy. He needed her so badly! Her warm yet businesslike disposition was far more suited to dealing with an abused child than his caustic approach. Severus repelled children! He regularly made them cry, for heaven's sake! He was not qualified to stand here and deal with child abuse. He was lying to himself. He should immediately resign as a Head of House and alleviate himself from the responsibilities he was clearly unqualified to handle - 

Occlude, you bumbling fool, and deal with this! He ordered himself. 

“Your choice is either myself or Madam Pomfrey,” Severus said, finally deciding on a course of action. The illusion of choice might help end this stand-off, at the very least. “You get to decide who, but somebody has to look at these injuries and treat them.”

“I hate you!” Harry shouted.

Severus knew the boy meant it, but the statement didn’t rankle. If he was in Harry’s shoes, he’d have despised the person who forced him to confront what his oxygen-wasting excuse for a father had inflicted on him. The boy also wasn’t expressing anything Severus didn’t already feel towards himself, at any rate…

“You can hate me all you like, but it does not change what needs to happen,” Snape said tonelessly, wrapping the Occlumency shields around himself like a protective cloak. 

“You’re a stupid bastard, and you can fuck off!” Harry hissed.

Severus didn’t dignify that with a response. This he was used to - a classic Draco move. Goad Severus into an angry, snide comment, and escalate the situation into a screaming match that would leave both of them feeling terrible while simultaneously managing to not resolve anything. His textbook said it was best to ignore those kinds of outbursts, remain calm, be the adult in the situation, de-escalate…

But if anything, Severus’ silence only served to make the boy completely explode.

“How the hell are you so calm?” he demanded, slamming a palm against the sofa arm. Harry looked enraged. He looked devastated. “You’ve spent all week having a go at me if I so much as look at you funny, and suddenly you’re in complete control of your emotions? How?!”

“Occlumency,” Severus explained.

Harry frowned. “Ocky-what?”

“Occlumency,” Severus repeated. “It’s a form of mental arts I am currently employing which assists me with emotional regulation.”

“Oh." Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "I’ve never heard of that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to have,” Severus said with a shrug. “If you’d like, I can tell you more about it after your injuries have been seen to.”

Harry groaned loudly. “They’re really not that bad! Just drop it already!”

“I am not going to drop it!” Severus said fiercely. He needed to put an end to this ridiculous stand off immediately before he lost the ability to keep his temper at bay. “Harry, I understand this is the last thing you want to happen, but nonetheless, it is happening. This is by no means a pleasant matter for either one of us, and I would also like for this to be done with, but I cannot let this go until I make sure your health is attended to. Dragging this out is not going to make this any easier, so I would highly recommend you stop fighting me and make your decision. Would you like me to deal with your injuries, or would you like me to try and find Madam Pomfrey so she can do it?”

Pick Poppy, Severus thought to himself. I would rather fork out for the International Portkeys if that meant someone bloody qualified could be here to deal with the situation.

Why was no one qualified here to ask for advice?! Minerva was in Norway, Pomona in Brazil, Filius was with his unreachable goblin relations and Poppy was in Ibiza. Worst of all, Albus was in Geneva for a meeting of the International Confederation of Wizards until the last week of August, and couldn’t be reached. Blasted man…

And how much did he know about this, anyway? Had he also completely overlooked Harry’s home life?

Severus was distracted from his thoughts by movement on Harry’s part. He stared at Severus with a look of deep and true loathing, and ground out three words: “Fine. You, then.”

Relief and fear flooded through Severus in equal amounts. As terrified as he was about screwing this up and irreparably damaging the boy’s psyche or something, at least he was no longer paralysed by inaction.

“Alright,” he said softly, doing his best to keep his voice level and devoid of emotion. “I need you to remove your shirt.”

Harry nodded, worrying his lip between his teeth. His arms moved jerkily to the hem of one of those awful, massive shirts he always wore. Severus would never understand fashion…

It took him a minute, but Harry at last wrenched the shirt over his head and bunched it up in his fists. His eyes were practically glued to the ground, which was a great mercy, since Severus couldn’t bear this if Lily’s reproachful eyes were glowering at him out of the boy’s head.

He categorised the injuries clinically, because if he allowed a single emotion past the Occlumency shields, it would all flood through him and incapacitate Severus. The injuries mainly consisted of bruises and one large, scabbed scrape. Just under two dozen in total, he’d say. Quite a few were concentrated on the boy’s upper arms, where the sleeves of his oversized t-shirts tended to hide his skin. It looked like he was frequently grabbed in a bruising grip. 

There were also an assortment of surface-level bruises, varying in colour, on the boy’s back and chest. That indicated that the injuries didn’t come from a one-off beating. No, this treatment had occurred over an extended period. 

The thing that particularly worried Severus were the deep, dark bruises clustered on his ribcage. Was a rib fractured or broken beneath there? Severus muttered the Diagnostic Charm for bone damage, and let out a whooshing breath of relief upon translating the runes. Nothing was broken. Just… very severe bruising.

No emotions allowed. Nothing could be felt.

Finally, Severus took a deep breath in. “Come forward and sit on the ottoman so I can apply this healing salve and some Bruise Balm. It will get rid of these bruises and end any residual pain.”

To his immense relief, Harry didn’t argue. The fight seemed to have gone out of him. He rose unsteadily to his feet and sat in front of Severus, who busied himself with preparing the Bruise Balm. 

He did not think about who the boy sitting in front of him was. He did not think about how he flinched beneath Severus’ touch, tensed and hunched. He did not think about how thin the boy was, the way his spine and shoulder blades poked out of his flesh unhealthily.

Severus did not think. He worked methodically. He healed. Purple bruises vanished beneath the paste, restoring the boy to the state he should have been in.

Severus eyed the boy closely and hesitated. He was almost certain that there would be more bruising beneath the boy’s trousers, but didn’t dare ask him to remove them. He wasn’t limping, so he doubted whatever injuries present were an immediate medical threat to Harry. He could apply the Bruise Balm himself, presumably.

He pressed the pots into the boy’s hands and told him as much. Harry made a beeline for the door, clearly eager to get away.

“Come back when you’re done,” Severus called quickly. “I’ll be up to check on you if you don’t. Our discussion isn’t over.”

Once the door shut behind him, Severus cast a Silencing Charm at the door and indulged himself in an enraged howl. He allowed every ounce of grief and fury and hatred to tear at  his vocal chords until he was starved for oxygen, panting like a crazed animal, and smashed a particularly ugly ornament of his mother’s that he’d been meaning to bin anyway. Once he was done, he removed the Silencing Charm and began to think.

He had to handle this somehow. Harry was living with him for the rest of August, and Severus would not - could not - proceed for the next two weeks and pretend that none of this had happened. He was a pathetic excuse for a human being, but he could scrape up enough common decency to try and help Harry through this. He would get the necessary information out of the boy, remove him from his relatives’ custody, and allow him to get on with his life unhindered.

Severus had failed Harry miserably, allowing his sort of harm to come to him, but he was determined to fix it now. It was like a burning fire inside of him, a mingling mixture of guilt and fury. He needed to fix this, he needed to. Severus hadn’t felt this determined about something in a very long time. 

The various vehement vows and promises he was making to himself were disrupted by Potter’s re-entry into the living room. He looked thoroughly miserable.

Severus took a deep breath and steeled himself. Bite the bullet. Get this done. “This has been going on a while, I presume?” 

“I’m not telling you anything,” Harry muttered, refusing to meet his gaze. “You’ll just use it against me.”

“I would never use this against you,” he said vehemently.

“Oh, really?” Harry asked snidely, raising an eyebrow. “After the way you’ve treated me? Forgive me if I have a hard time believing that, sir.”

Snape sighed heavily. The honest rebuke was like a knife to the chest. The guilt was truly unbearable. “I deserve that. You have no reason to trust me, of course…” He hesitated, then ploughed on. “I can promise you, however, as someone who has had similar life experiences as you, I would never use this against you. Never.”

He’d hoped Potter would ignore the allusion to Tobias. He had no such luck. The boy jolted up and stared at him, eyes wide. “Similar life experiences?” 

Snape hesitated. Was he really about to admit to Potter’s spawn that his father was abusive?

But as he sat here, in the living room he had been abused in, looking at a boy who reminded Severus so much of himself, he knew he had to say it. If someone had been having this conversation with Severus, he knew he wouldn’t believe them to understand unless he was presented with irrevocable proof to the contrary. 

“My father…” Severus swallowed, his mouth bone dry. “Well, my father was a deeply unpleasant man.”

“Oh.” 

Harry did not look at Severus with pity. He looked at him with understanding, as shocked as he seemed to be feeling it.

“I really do understand what you’re going through, Harry,” he said earnestly. “And I will keep your confidence. I thought you should know that, if it helps you feel more comfortable speaking to me."

“I don’t want to talk at all,” Harry whispered. “It won’t help, it just gets you in more trouble.”

“How would it get you in more trouble?” Snape asked quickly, leaning forward. Tension crept into his shoulder blades, drawing them into a tight knot.

“It did the last time I told someone,” Harry mumbled.

Severus was reeling. Somebody knew? Who?! A Muggle? Merlin forbid, someone from Hogwarts? Severus hoped not, because he didn’t trust himself around a colleague who had been so recklessly ignorant to the obvious suffering this child was experiencing…

“Rest assured, nothing you say here will get you in trouble with your relatives,” Severus said in the most reassuring voice he could muster. As his capacity to be condoling was pathetic at best, it did not come across as soothing in the slightest. “I am simply aware of the fact that these things fester if they aren’t addressed, so talking would be beneficial to your mental health. Additionally, I require some kind of detail about their treatment of you so I can ensure you do not ever have to return to live with them.”

“Are you serious? I might not have to go back?” Harry’s eyes were wide with desperate hope, and Severus felt something in his heart tear. He’d take the Cruciatus Curse over this. How could those blasted people look into those eyes and raise their hand to the boy?!

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Severus growled, struggling to resist the urge to Apparate straight to Privet Drive and do unspeakable things. Harry needed him more than the Dursleys needed to be violently tortured. “I have removed children facing similar circumstances from their homes, Mr Potter, and I should be able to do the same for you if you simply provide me with the necessary evidence. The Dursleys are additionally at a significant disadvantage due to their status as Muggles, which will stack the deck against them in any sort of legal battle.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t fight to keep me,” Harry said with an odd, strangled sort of noise that could have been an attempt at a laugh. “They can’t stand me, I think they’re more likely to throw a party or something…”

Severus felt the muscles in his jaw convulse. “As I said. Simply tell me what you experienced under their appalling rendition of care, and I can start the process.”

Harry seemed to slump in on himself, as though weighed down by a ton of bricks. He heaved a heavy sigh. “Can’t we do all this another time? I’m really tired, sir, I’d just like to go to my room and rest…”

“I think it would be best for you and Draco to remain separate for the time being,” Severus said quickly, abruptly realising he still needed to deal with Draco. He really didn’t think he had it in him. “He’s currently in the bedroom either contemplating his actions or sleeping, as it’s rather late. He will be sufficiently punished for his absolutely abhorrent behaviour today, I can assure you.”

Thoroughly, thoroughly punished. Severus was truly furious - no one played him for a fool and got away with it unscathed. He had been dealing with the acting out of a spoiled and bigoted child for the last month, which was exhausting enough, but if there was one thing Severus couldn’t stand, it was bullies. He’d naturally assumed Potter Junior was the one picking all of the soul-draining, irritating fights he’d been breaking up, but after the evidence in those memories, it was clear Draco was almost always the instigator. 

Draco’s misbehaviour also felt far more personal than it ever had before. When he had the distance of being a teacher, the boy’s acting out didn’t exactly affect him. Who was he to question the parenting methods of Lucius and Narcissa, after all? He had simply ignored it out of convenience. It wouldn’t do to offend the Malfoys with complaints, albeit valid ones. 

But when Draco had come under his guardianship, Severus automatically held more responsibility for the boy’s actions. Any bullying or bigotry reflected badly on him and his child-rearing practices, even if Severus hadn’t been the one to sow the seeds of bad character. He would weed this all out of Draco even if it was the last thing he did…

Harry did not look as vindicated as Severus had expected him to. After all, if Potter Senior’s father had come to Severus as a child and had told him he’d be thoroughly punishing his son for his actions, Severus would have been jumping for joy.

But Potter didn’t look pleased. He just looked even more worried and miserable.

“Something’s wrong,” Severus said.

“No, it’s nothing -”

“What?” Severus interrupted. “Tell me, now.”

“Just - don’t be too hard on him, alright?” Harry mumbled, scrunching up his oversized shirt in his hands. “What he did was bad, but…”

It felt like the bottom had dropped out of Severus’ stomach as he realised exactly what ‘too hard on him’ meant. The boy thought - he thought Severus was going to hurt Draco, didn’t he? Merlin’s beard! Severus knew he wasn’t some bleeding-heart professor, but for Potter to make this assumption?

He felt like Tobias, and Severus strived to never feel that way.

“You seem very convinced I am going to hurt either you or Draco,” he growled, the anger surging through him.

Harry cringed, confirming his worst fears. “I don’t mean it like that, I just -”

“You meant it in exactly the way I interpreted it,” Severus ground out, his jaw tense with outrage. He couldn’t shout at Potter for the accusation, as tempting as it was to do so. Not after what he’d found out that evening. “Do not lie to me. You think I’d treat the two of you in the same manner as those despicable Muggles.”

“It’s just on my mind, obviously!” he hissed, shrinking back slightly. “And you get kind of scary when you’re angry, okay? You can’t blame me for thinking you might do something!”

Severus felt hollow, anger dead in an instant. Potter was practically cowering away from him… the obvious actions of a child in fear. Harry feared him. He thought Severus would - would strike him, or beat him, or whatever other horrid things he had to surely be imagining.

He’s abused, Severus reminded himself. You thought similarly of adults at his age too, didn’t you? This.. this isn’t personal.

 “Considering our history and your upbringing, you’re right - I cannot blame you whatsoever.” Harry grimaced, and Severus knew he had to try harder. "Harry - let me make this clear to you now. I am not going to hit you or cast any sort of spell to hurt you, no matter how angry I am. I haven't done it this week, have I? There has been more than one instance where I was rather furious, too.”

"You put a Silencing Charm on me this morning," Harry muttered, crossing his arms. 

Severus grimaced. "Not my best decision, I will confess. I regretted it rather quickly, which is why I came out into the garden to remove it as soon as you left the kitchen. I apologise, and give you my word I will not cast that on you again."

Harry's jaw actually dropped, and Severus struggled against the urge to roll his eyes. Were the dramatics truly necessary?

Or maybe the boy was genuinely just shocked that Severus didn’t want to hex or hit him. This was far worse than he’d have expected… but Severus couldn’t leave it. The mingled look of irritation and badly-hidden fear needed to be gotten rid of, because it was making Severus feel things, something he absolutely refused to do.

"I understand it will take time to realise that you are safe here," Severus said, "so for now, I will simply give you my word. I will not be violent towards you or Draco, no matter what you do or how angry I am. It completely goes against my principles."

Harry nodded, and swallowed hard. He asked, "If I'm not allowed in the bedroom, where do I sleep?" 

Severus thought for a moment. He absolutely could not have Draco and Harry near each other until he fully worked out what was going on between the two of them. Could the boy sleep on the sofa? No, that was out of the question, too. Severus wouldn’t be able to hear Harry from upstairs if he tried to leave the house again.

"You will use my bedroom for tonight,” he said reluctantly. 

The look of abject horror on the boy’s face was almost amusing. “What?! But where will you sleep?”

“Here,” Severus said, gesturing to the sofa.

“No, you don’t have to do that!” Harry said quickly. “I can sleep on a sofa - I fall asleep anywhere, it’s really fine…”

“I’d rather be downstairs so I can hear if you try to leave again, Potter,” Severus said pointedly, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. The boy flushed with clear embarrassment. “We’ll certainly be talking about that in the morning, and the rest. But for now, you need to eat something, and then have a good night’s rest.”

“I’m not hungry,” Harry muttered, staring at the floor.

Now that was truly ridiculous, Severus thought. How could he not be hungry? He’d barely touched a meal all day! Perhaps he’d eaten while he was out? Severus doubted it, somehow…

“You haven’t eaten all day,” he said, pointing at the door. “This is non-negotiable. Come on, into the kitchen.”

He began to walk out of the living room, listening for the sound of the boy’s footsteps behind, and began to prepare a sandwich for him at the kitchen counter.

The boy was certainly strange when it came to food. Severus could have sworn he’d seen Harry filch a nearly-empty packet of biscuits out of the cupboard two days ago when he thought Severus wasn’t looking, all while going to great lengths to hide the fact that he’d done so. Severus hadn’t mentioned it because it simply hadn’t bothered him - if the boy was hungry, he could get food. He had thought it was weird that Harry had attempted to hide it, but hadn’t cared enough to truly think it through…

And he never ate unless meals were explicitly prepared for him. Severus had at first been annoyed to have to organise lunch for the boy after he’d skipped it the first few days of his stay here. He’d assumed Potter expected meals to be served to him on a silver platter, and was too spoiled to bother serving himself. 

But between the almost systematic avoidance of meals and the unhealthily skinny frame Potter had, Severus wasn’t so sure anymore. Something seemed fishy here… why wouldn’t he eat? Did he have some sort of eating disorder?

Suspicious and concerned, Severus picked up the plate and turned around to question him about the unusual behaviour. What he came across made him stop short.

The boy was crying.

Those tormenting green eyes of his were shining with pooled tears that Harry was trying and failing to blink away, a few falling over and trickling down his cheeks, shining in the yellow light of the kitchen. Severus felt that horrid ripping sensation in his chest again. 

He stared at Harry, horrified, as the boy ducked his head in obvious embarrassment. What in Merlin’s name was he supposed to do about this particular boy crying in his kitchen? Severus couldn’t even deal with snivelling children who he didn’t have complex and strained relations with! Whenever his Slytherins came to him in tears, he tended to just… wait until it was over. He was a horrid, sharp-tongued man, and only made things worse. What the hell was he meant to do?

Feeling utterly hopeless, Severus simply placed the food down and conjured up a box of tissues so the boy could wipe his eyes. He didn’t dare speak while Harry took in deep, shuddering breaths, clearly struggling against a building sob, because absolutely anything he said to this boy would make things a million times worse.

But even if he wasn’t Severus Snape, what was there to say? ‘There there’? ‘It’ll be alright’? 

Severus had had a similar upbringing to the boy, and he knew there wasn’t a single thing in the world that would have made him feel better if someone had discovered how his father treated him. No one had found out, because that was simply unacceptable. No one knew about Tobias until Severus was old enough to be rid of the wretched man, and even then that knowledge was exclusive to those who had Legilimised him at some point, so just Albus, Narcissa and the Dark Lord. Even Lily, as much as he’d cared for her, hadn’t known the true scope of Tobias’ abuse. She’d asked, certainly, but Severus was icy and sharp until she let the matter drop. She and the Evanses had simply provided him with a refuge, a house to hide in on the days Severus couldn’t bear to be around his father during a particularly bad stint of binge-drinking. 

Was it Potter’s uncle who had manhandled him? His aunt? Severus had never been fond of Petunia, but did that make her an abuser? Or did she simply stand to one side, much like his mother had, and allowed the violent man in her house to have his way? So many questions, all making the seizing pain in his chest even more painful and potent.

He felt absolutely worthless. He wished someone else was here… Minerva would know how to comfort the boy, surely. Molly Weasley. Poppy. Even Albus, with his damned lemon drops and vague words, had a way of soothing upset students. 

But none of them were here to help him. Severus was alone.

Once again, he was experiencing the feeling of absolute powerlessness, a sensation that had been growing more and more familiar to him ever since he’d become Draco’s guardian. Severus couldn’t even assist untroubled children, but traumatised ones? Children who had witnessed arson, and imprisonment, and abuse and their parents’ murder? Who was he to help them?

But here Severus was, attempting it anyhow. Since no one else was willing to suck it up and actually help these children, he was once again found facing up to the jobs no one else was able to take on, unqualified as he was.

The boy rose to his feet unsteadily to throw his tissue away, and spent a time staring out of the window into the dark garden. Not for the first time, Severus wondered what on earth he could possibly be thinking.

“Are you ready to go upstairs?” he asked softly.

Harry nodded wordlessly. The two of them began to walk up the stairs together, past the darkened landing and into Severus’ bedroom.

For the first time, Severus was thankful for how much he despised this room. It had been his parents’ previously and held bad memories, as the rest of the house did. He intentionally kept it bare and unpersonalised, and tried to avoid being inside as much as possible. It could easily pass for a spare room in a pinch.

He found himself glancing at the boy, scanning his face for any signs of disgust or surprise that could stoke the flames of hatred he found so much easier to feel when compared to the horrid pain in his chest he currently experienced when watching Harry. He seemed to have no reaction to the room, however. Harry just looked thoroughly miserable, like he had since Severus had brought him back here. 

Severus frowned in concentration and conjured up a spare set of Draco’s pyjamas. He didn’t know where Potter’s were stored in the room, and the boys were close enough in size that they should fit…

Severus was thoroughly relieved that Draco was apparently asleep, judging by his darkened bedroom. He didn’t have it in him to deal with the other boy quite yet, especially since he didn’t have a damn clue how to handle the boy’s bullying of Potter.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything,” he said, watching Harry closely. Had he forgotten something? Did he require anything else? Severus felt completely lost here. He somehow thought he ought to be doing more.

“You don’t have to hover,” Harry snapped. “I’m not an invalid.”

Severus nodded quickly. “Of course not. Well - goodbye, then.”

He hesitated for a moment, a million words hovering on the tip of his tongue, the majority of them apologies. Severus absolutely hated saying sorry, and found it particularly repellant when it came to Potter’s spawn, but they were the only words that came to mind that seemed appropriate. He wanted to apologise for everything - for being so cold and callous, for killing the boy’s parents, for the boy’s horrid relatives, for the tears and the failure to say anything proper -

But he couldn’t say a word. Severus just shook his head and withdrew from the room. He closed the door and leaned his head against the adjacent wall, finally allowing his Occlumency shields to fully drop. Despair pounded into him with the force of a stormy sea, buffeting him from side to side.

Lily would be so ashamed of him.

How had he not noticed? How had Severus taught Harry for two years without picking up on his horrid childhood? It wasn’t like there weren’t signs - the boy stayed for Christmas every year. He never received mail - Minerva frequently commented on that to him, while he pretended not to listen. She’d been shocked that the Dursleys hadn’t written to Potter after he’d crashed that car into a tree with Weasley, but Severus had just assumed it was because they spoiled the boy and allowed him to get away with whatever he wanted… 

The boy had run away from home. He didn’t eat. He didn’t know anything about his mother. He flinched, he feared violence from Severus, and he was all in all everything but the boy Severus had thought he knew. Severus felt as though someone had taken all of his perceptions of Potter and smashed them finely into dust, leaving nothing but the stark, naked, horrid truth.

The boy was crying again. Severus could hear the sniffling through the wall. His heart clenched, and ached, and pained him terribly. Lily’s son. The only part of Lily left on this earth, which Severus had somehow forgotten in his efforts to despise the boy’s father. 

And he was suffering.

Someone ought to help him, but all Severus would do was embarrass Harry if he went in there now, he knew that. All he knew to do was to conjure up a new box of tissues into the room before retreating downstairs to wallow in his own misery.

Severus didn’t drink, but he still had his vices. After the night he’d had, he couldn’t be faulted for a cigarette or two. He sat on the edge of the patio and smoked, trying his best to take the edge off the nervous, frantic energy filling him. It didn’t help all that much, especially since he knew he’d need to thoroughly dispel the smell of smoke from his clothing and person. He doubted the boys would notice - Severus was too subtle for that - but Minerva was returning from Norway in a few days, and she would kill him if she smelled it on him. Her sense of smell was rather powerful because of her Animagus powers, particularly when she transformed. 

At Minerva’s request, Severus had quit smoking ten years ago, but had slipped back into the habit on and off over the last decade and particularly in the last month, which had been horribly stressful between Draco and Potter. Of course, she wouldn’t give a damn. Severus rolled his eyes. He could practically hear Minerva’s voice in the back of his head, chiding him. “It’s a nasty habit, Severus! You’ll be brewing yourself emphysema potions by fourty at this rate!”

He sighed to himself. Nasty scold that she was, Severus would have killed to have Minerva here right now. At the very least, she knew far more about Harry than he did, since she was his Head of House…

And she hadn’t spent the last two years taking out an ancient grudge against the boy’s father on him, of course.

Severus groaned and pressed his fingers against his temples. He had been so, so wrong about Harry. As much as he wanted to, his expectations for James Potter in miniature had been absolutely crushed. He didn’t know what to make of the boy now, especially since Severus felt that horrid pain in his chest every time he thought of the boy and his tear-filled green eyes, so much like his mother’s…

I’m so sorry, Lily. Severus stared into the unforgiving black sky above him and sighed, his very bones aching with the weight of his grief. I will help him. I promise you, things are going to be different. I’m going to change. I owe you that boy’s happiness, and I will protect him from harm. 

Severus shook off the last dregs of self-pity and got to his feet. Feeling sorry for himself wasn’t helping anyone, particularly Harry. He was going to get that boy out from the custody of his relatives and set him up somewhere better. Severus was not going to stand by and be complicit in his continual abuse. He owed the boy help, and once Severus set his mind on a course of action, he remained determined to see it through to the bitter end.

He stubbed out the cigarette, banished the remains, and returned to the house. Once inside, he went straight over to the bookshelf and picked up a particular tome: A CAREGIVER’S GUIDE TO ADOLESCENT TRAUMA. 

When Draco had been particularly badly-behaved after his parents’ arrest, Severus had bought the book out of sheer desperation. He had been completely out of his depth, and needed something to assist him in his struggle to bring the boy up. The book had been the first one on the shelf in the bookshop that seemed applicable, and had actually helped, as reluctant as Severus was to admit it. He would have been lost without that book back in July.

The book would almost certainly have something that applied to what Harry had been through. Severus sighed and cracked it open to the index.

I will help you, he promised, looking through the open doorway and towards the darkened staircase. He wondered if Harry was still crying, or if he had at last exhausted himself and dropped off to sleep.

Severus didn’t know if there was any course of action that he could take to rectify what he’d done to Potter. As a matter of fact, every single snide insult and comment he’d ever made towards the boy was now ringing in his brain, reminding him of how utterly horrid he was.

But the hatred had died the minute Harry had confirmed Severus’ worst fears around his background. Severus couldn’t hate a child that reminded him so starkly of himself at that age. He wouldn’t say he knew Harry Potter by any means, but he knew the mind of an abused child intimately, and every misbehaviour or sullen glare now held new meaning. Being angry with Harry was far more difficult than it had been just a few hours ago, oddly enough.

But Severus had it in him to be determined, and he was certainly determined to at last do right by Harry. The paradigm shift he had just undergone could not be ignored. He had made up his mind to help that boy, and Severus Snape did not fail.

He opened the book to chapter one and began to read.