Disclaimer for Entire Story: I don't own Harry Potter. That honor belongs to J.K. Rowling, and I tip my hat to her, thanking her for letting us play in her sandbox. This was slightly inspired by lastcrazyhorn, who wrote Freaks Aren't Allowed, and Taint of Taia, who wrote Wishcraft, so I also tip my hat to them, as a thank you for inspiring me.

Warnings for Entire Story: Child abuse, mentions of it

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Numb

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'Smash!'

The glass was shattered in a instant, racing across the tiled kitchen floor. It looked like sharp, clear ice that should be outside along with the snow and sleet of the ongoing snow storm. But was instead resting in a pool of amber liquid that smell strongly of alcohol. Bright green eyes went wide in shock and fear, and the small hands of a child visibly shook.

"I'm sorry!" the young girl - who looked only five or so - forced out, immediately dropping to her knobby knee's and trying to pick up the glass pieces as fast as she could. Holly Potter winced as the sharp edges of the larger pieces nicked her pale skin, her fingers immediately starting to bleed, but she didn't let that stop her, creating a small pile in one shaking hand. "I didn't mean to!"

"You stupid girl!" roared a large man with a slur as he stomped to her, towering over her. Holly shook even more. "You clumsy brat!" His ruddy face was red with rage, and his beady eyes were glassy from drinking too much, and Holly knew what was coming before he even acted. He leaned down and grabbed the girl by her skinny arm, his meaty hand wrapping around it so tightly it looked as if he might break it in an instant. Holly cried out as he roughly pulled her up, the glass pieces in her hand falling to the floor again - sounding like the tinkling like gentle rain.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon!" Holly cried, tears filling her eyes and rapidly rolling down cheeks. "I didn't mean to break the glass! I swear!"

"You'll be sorry, alright," her uncle growled, till tugging Holly up till she was standing on her own two bare feet, just on the tips of her toes. Then he raised his other hand and brought it smartly across her cheek. Her head snapped sharply to the side, short inky black hair flying, and more tears rolled down Holly's red cheek as she cried out. That didn't make him stop though.

"Shaddup!" Vernon shouted, and then suddenly, he pushed her away, as if touching her hand burned him. Holly stumbled, and she cried out again when she hit a nearby wooden chair, both falling to the floor with a clatter.

Vernon looked to his hand, the palm of his hand now a bright red, and his face turned purple in rage. "You little-" He marched to her, and gave the fallen girl a sharp kick to the stomach, causing Holly to yelp like a wounded dog. "You burned me, you freak!"

"I'm sorry!" Holly cried again, tears still flowing freely, and her still bleeding hands held out in front of her as some sort of protection as she tried to curl into a ball. "I'm sorry!"

Even though Holly continued to apologize, that didn't stop her uncle, who continued kicking her, her stomach, her back, her legs, his foot even managed to skim her head. He didn't seem to hear her cries - as if he were deaf to them. Still, she went on, repeating 'I'm sorry" till she finally stopped - so she could scream as her uncle stomped on her wrist, snapping the fragile bones in an instant. Holly clutched her wrist to her chest with her free hand, trembling in pain and fear and whimpering, biting her lip so sharply it bleed. She didn't dare scream again, but it hurt so much. Like it was on fire. Like there was a thousand needles in her wrist.

"Stop it!"

A boy raced into the kitchen, green eyes - the same colour as the girl - firm with determination. He stepped in his uncle's path, his arms held out as he acted like a human shield. "Don't hurt Holly anymore!" he said loudly. "She said she was sorry! She didn't mean it!"

"No..." Holly whispered painfully, still shaking. "Harry, don't..."

"Don't get in my way!" With a large hand, Vernon pushed the boy aside, who stumbled and fell against the nearby wall. His eyes went wide just before his head hit the wall with a loud crack. He cried out, but then his eyelids fell shut as he crumpled to the floor, suddenly quiet.

Holly screamed, then cried out as her uncle kicked her in the stomach again.

"Shaddup!" Vernon said as he stood over her, sway back and forth, his eyes unfocused. "That's what he gets for gettin' in my way!"

"Vernon!" A thin woman raced into the kitchen. "What are you doing?" She glanced around, her dim green eyes taking everything in. "Damn it, Vernon, they might be watching us!" she screeched.

"So what?" Vernon said drunkenly. "Let 'em! I'm sick of taking care of these freaks, Petunia!"

Petunia and Vernon went back and forth, but Holly didn't listen. Instead, she crawled over to her brother, biting back any cries of pain she had. "Harry?" she whispered. Finally reaching him, she let go her wrist, ignoring the pain as she placed her good hand on his shoulder, shaking it. His black hair moved as she shook him, falling across his forehead and hiding his lighting bolt scar. "Harry, please wake up." Holly pleaded, more tears rolling down her cheeks. "Please, wake up." Her body shook. "Please, don't leave me."

But Harry didn't answer her.

Sobbing now, Holly pressed her forehead against his thin shoulder, still shaking him. "Harry, please wake up. Harry..." She was suppose to protect her brother. And now he was hurt. He wouldn't wake up. "Please Harry, wake up, for me."

"Come here, you."

Holly cried in pain as Vernon grabbed her again, this time by the back of her jumper, yanking her up and forcing her to stand on her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Petunia slip out of the kitchen, leaving Holly to her husband. "I'm not done with you yet," he snarled, and he threw her against the same wall Harry had hit only a minute ago. She crumpled again, but wasn't given any time to recover before her started to kick her again.

Crying with each kick and blow, Holly tried to focus on something, anything but the blinding pain. It overwhelmed her though, every nerve of her body was on fire and sending wave after of pain to her. It became so bad that she didn't even notice when Vernon finally stop, lifting up by her arm, dragging her to the cupboard under the stairs and throwing her in. Holly only noticed he'd stopped when she was surrounded in a familiar darkness.

Hot tears steadily rolling down her cheeks, Holly let herself lie there, her now dull eyes staring up at the wooden ceiling. 'I wish we were never left here,' she thought faintly. 'I wish that I was someplace safe, with someone who would want take care of us.' The pain rolled over her again, burning her, but Holly shook as if she was cold. 'I wish that I could leave all this behind,' she thought. 'I wish it would all disappear.'

It was almost instantaneous. Very suddenly, Holly felt much warmer then should have felt on the cold wood floor, as if there was a large fire burning inside her stomach, filling her veins with liquid fire but at the same time, numbing her pain. And then she felt as she were being forced through a tight tube, someone pulling her through by a hook behind her navel. Not knowing what was happening, Holly tried to scream, in pain and shock, but it didn't even leave her throat. Holly's vision seemed to swirl, and a wind came from no where, surrounding her while she was still being squeezed.

"No!" she tried to scream again, but nothing came out.

A small pop filled the cupboard before Holly disappeared, the only trace of her left was the blood from her bleeding hands on the floor. When her uncle came back less then a minute later, dragging an unconscious Harry, he blinked in confusion before swearing under his breath, muttering about how he had to much too drink before throwing Harry in the cupboard, locking the door, and stumbling up the stairs to bed.

It wasn't until the next morning that the Dursleys finally realized that Holly was gone, had disappeared in the middle of the night. Uncle Vernon, besides a pounding headache, had no recollection of what happened the night before, but quickly came to the conclusion that Holly had run off, which his wife and son agreed with. They didn't even bother looking for her.

Harry protested that she wouldn't leave - she wouldn't leave him behind - but his relatives didn't care what happened to his sister, or where she was. Or even if she was dead.

To them, it was one less freak to take care of.

~o0o~

When Holly appeared again, it was a few feet of the ground, and she hit the ground a second later. Falling onto her side, she cried out as another pain was added to what she already had, being surrounded by a biting cold. Quickly, she scrambled up, but her bleeding hands sunk into inches of snow and her wrist screaming in pure pain. She quickly lifted her hands out and tried to kneel so she could wipe off the melted snow, but that's when she finally realized that she was kneeling in it.

Lifting her head, Holly could barely see through the snow as the wind whipped it around, it was thick and icy cold. It wasn't even pure white snow, like in films, but dark gray and ugly. Where was she? How had did she... she wasn't even sure what a good word was to describe what just happen. Maybe she teleported, like in films she'd heard on the telly? Holly didn't ponder on it much, because the wind hit her again, threatening to knock her over it was so strong, and she shivered. She had to get out of the cold, or she knew - just instinctively knew - she'd freeze to death. She had to get back to Harry. Make sure he was alright.

Thankful, the fire inside Holly's stomach was still burning, and although it seemed to have gone down a bit, it was still keeping her moderately warm, heat radiating off her skin and slowly melting the snow underneath her. She stood, her bare feet warm but cold at the same time, and glanced around. She still couldn't see, but something inside her told Holly to move forward.

She had to keep moving if she wanted to stay alive.

So with another shiver as the wind howled at her again, Holly moved forward.

What seemed like hours - or maybe days - went by slowly. Holly had to forced herself to trudge through the snow, which meet her knobby knee's. She left a trail behind, but it started to disappear as the snow filled up her tracks. Her short inky black hair whipped around her face, her skin turning pale while while her cheeks and nose turned a dark pink, now starting to look feverish. Holly couldn't even wrap her arms around herself, her wrist twinging with pain every minute or so, so she let her free hand hold it. And adding to the pain was every place her uncle had kicked her, the pain and marks he left still very fresh. Even though the fire was still burning inside her, she was still cold, only wearing one of her cousin's large jumper's as a makeshift dress when she had... left.

Holly squinted against the harsh wind as she took another step forward. Maybe this was all just a dream. It wasn't impossible. She'd had weird dreams before. Like the motorcycle one. And suddenly disappearing from the cupboard under the stairs and appearing in the middle of no where was something like a dream. But the warmth that filled her...

She pushed that thought away. It could be just a dream that she was having after possibly blacking out from the pain, and maybe she had a fever that made her feel warm like this. Holly nodded to herself. Yes, that could be it, or at least it was the best explanation. But why would she dream of this?

A howl filled the air, and Holly jumped, visibly shocked. Was that a wolf? Dream or not, her cousin Dudley use to force her to watch horror movies, and the monster she feared the most was a werewolf. The nightmares she had about them... And wolves were close enough to frighten her. Her eyes wide, she forced to herself to move faster, but it felt like she was trudging through thick syrup, her breathing harsh and coming out in white clouds.

But she had to get away, get to safety.

That was when the black gates appeared suddenly, looming over her and reminding her of a prison.

Shaking still, Holly let her uninjured hand brush against the ice-covered iron, almost instantly touching the lock on it. It appeared to be locked tightly. She moved slowly and carefully, and found it connected with a brick wall that was definitely higher then her. And who knew how long it went. She was stuck, unable to go forward or backwards.

"Hello?" Holly called out wearily. "Anyone there?"

A long silence.

"Please, open the gates, please!" Holly called out again, trying to be louder then the roaring wind. With her free hand, she even tried to shake the bars, though she was so weak at the moment she barely moved them. "Please, let me in!" she screamed.

Nothing. Not even the howl of another wolf.

Blinking back her hot tears, Holly let her back hit the brick wall, ignoring the pain as she slid to the ground, the snow around her starting to melt, she could even feel the frozen grass scratch at her legs. She pulled up her knee's and rested her broken wrist in her lap. She was so tired, she was sure that she was awake. But it had to be a dream. The pain was ebbing away, and the fire inside her was getting dimmer, but at the same time, the cold was going with it, so that meant the dream was ending, right? Her green eyes fluttered, and she so wanted to close them and sleep - or wake up?

Awake or asleep. Which was it?

... Why was she worrying about that again? She couldn't remember. And when she tried, it just seemed to move farther out of her reach. And Holly was too tired to try any harder then that.

Holly knew she was truly sleeping when she felt a hand brush against her cold cheek, because no one had touched her like that before, not even in her dreams. "Hold on, little one," she heard a woman's voice say, soft and filled with concern. There was a flash of red, and for a moment, Holly thought of blood, and tried to move away from.

"Don't move, Holly, dear. He'll be here soon, and he'll take care of you."

"Who?" Holly said in a mummer. "Who's coming?" At first, she feared that her uncle was coming for her again, but that fear was quickly dismissed, her uncle wouldn't bother to come for her, not even if she was dead in the street... Her uncle? Who was that again?

"He's coming for you, Holly," said a male voice, but it was just as soft and concerned as the other voice, and she felt a gently weight on her head. She wished she could lean into the touch, but Holly didn't want to move, she feared it might go away if she did. "Just hold on a little longer..."

"But I can't..." she forced out. Closing her eyes, Holly felt the cold completely disappear. "I just wanna wake up..."

"Holly, don't..."

"Stay awake..." The voices faded away, overpowered by the roaring wind.

"Harry..." Snuggling against the brick wall, Holly felt strangely numb. "I can't..." She wanted to wake up and see her... who did she want to see...

What was happening to her? All her memories seemed so far away now. She couldn't even remember who she had just wanted to see. It was in the back of her mind, like a bad itch, on the tip of her tongue. After a moment, Holly almost shrugged. Maybe she would remember when she woke up from this horrible dream.

And then the world went black, just as she heard a bird sing mournfully.

~o0o~

Christmas break was not something Severus Snape enjoyed.

Eating his food quietly, the Potions Master took a moment to glance around the Great Hall. Not many students had stayed that year - and why would they? There was no longer a threat of Voldemort, he had been gone for years not, and they had families to visit. The Gryffindor table was practically empty, with fourth year Bill Weasley and his second year brother, Charlie - who couldn't go home because one of their brothers had caught a magical flu, and their mother didn't want them to get infected - and a sixth year, Robin McGonagall, Minerva's niece, who decided to stay with her aunt for the holidays.

The Ravenclaw table was also almost empty, with two students staying, third year Mary Whitfield, who reasons for staying were unknown to Severus, and seventh year, Johnathan Hunt. His nose was currently stuck in a book, preparing for his upcoming N.E.W.T.'s, which was the reason he'd stayed. Severus almost rolled his eyes at that reason, since the N.E.W.T.'s were still five months away.

Only one student stayed at the Hufflepuff table, sixth year Gwenog Jones. Severus almost curled his lip at her. She had been one of Slughorn's favorites when he was still here, a part of his "Slug Club", and simply because she was a good Quidditch player, a Beater he believe. He almost scoffed. He didn't understand how people could even watch the game, let alone play or, or want to make it a career. He, of course, only got on a broom when it was necessary. And that, thankfully, didn't happen often.

And finally, there was the Slytherin table, which had the most students staying - a total of five. Emmaline Black, a first year who's parents were off on vacation in Sweden, and, thankful, not a relation of Sirius Black since she was Muggleborn. The Taylor siblings, fourth year Sara and fifth year Samuel, who simply did not want to go home. Alice Hammond, a fifth year Prefect who parents were separating and preferred not to get in the way. And sixth year Alexander Fleming, who's father, though a Pureblood with a important family name and lots of money, was a drunk, and Alexander tried to spend as little time with him as possible since his mother died two years ago.

Closing his coal eyes briefly, Severus took a sip from his goblet, letting the cool taste of pumpkin juice coat his throat for a moment. Even during the holidays, he was still expected to take care of students. Yes, it seemed that everyone else got a break except him. At least his Slytherins were well behaved enough, he didn't have to worry them like McGonagall would about her Gryffindors.

"Severus, are you well?"

Taking a moment to relax, Severus turned to the twinkling blue eyes. "I'm fine, Professor Dumbledore. Simply wishing for a student-free holiday, that's all."

Smiling, Dumbledore nodded. "I understand, my boy." Severus resisted the urge to shoot him a dark look, he hated when he was called that, which Albus knew and ignored. "But I remember a particular student that hated going home," he said knowingly. "I'm sure a few students feel the same way, and are glad to stay here for the holidays."

"And I understand that," Severus shot back. "But, while the last Slytherin Head enjoyed children to a degree - I do not, as you very well know."

Dumbledore just chuckled, and looked as if he were to respond, but Severus never learned the answer. For the moment the Headmaster opened his mouth, a sad song filled the Great Hall, almost immediately ceasing all talk as everyone glanced around, looking for the source. Strangely, Dumbledore didn't, only pausing as he listened to the song, even tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes.

"Headmaster, isn't that-" started McGonagall.

Suddenly, there was a red and orange flash above them, and a feather the same colour appeared, hovering over their heads for a long moment before gently floating its way down to the table, landing right in front of Dumbledore, who finally opened his eyes and took notice of it a few moments later. Reaching out, he gently picked up, holding it up carefully. And after a few seconds, his eyes suddenly grew cold - reminding Severus of the frost that covered the large windows- before he stood, and, without a word, march away from the table, heading for the main entrance to the Great Hall.

There was a moment of silence among the Professors before three of them stood to follow him - McGonagall, Flitwick, and Snape. McGonagall quickly asked Pomona to watch the remain students before the three rushed after him. Severus took only a brief moment to ask McGonagall a question.

"That was Fawkes, wasn't it?" He'd recognize a phoenix song and feather after visiting Dumbledore's office so many different times. But this song was different from any other song's he heard. It almost sounded ... painful.

Nodding, McGonagall quickened her steps, so she could catch up with the Headmaster. "Yes. But Fawkes has rarely sang his song like that. Something's wrong."

He could feel her fear radiating off her, and he nodded absentmindedly. Minerva feared an attack on the school while they had been so relaxed, thinking that nothing could happen now that the Dark Lord was gone. But at the same time, he had to wonder. Who would attack the school during the holiday's, when there were so few students here? What was the gain?

By the time they had gone past the Great Hall doors, they could see Dumbledore turn a corner, heading for the front doors. The three professors glanced at one another before quickening their steps, Flitwick practically running, and whipping their wands out, wanting to be prepared for any possibility.

'For an old man, Dumbledore can move rather fast.' thought Severus before moving even faster.

They could feel the chilling wind before they had even reached the front doors. Dumbledore had left them partly open, letting snow and wind enter the castle, before going on. Filch was near by, mumbling about how he would have to clean this up, with Mrs. Norris near his feet, her eyes narrowed and her fur puffed up, hissing at the invading snow.

"What is Albus doing?" McGonagall asked aloud, though it sounded as if she were asking herself more then anyone else. "And who would be attacking Hogwarts in this terrible weather?"

That was certainly a good question. While the ceiling in the Great Hall had showed snow gently falling from the sky, the real sky was dark, a snow storm surrounding the castle, whistling and attacking any windows. It certainly wasn't leaving anytime soon.

"We'll find out, won't we?" said Severus shortly before going through the door and into the storm.

The snow surrounded him like a curtain, and the snow was deep enough that it went past his ankles. But thankfully, Dumbledore had used magic to create a path, melting the snow in front of him with heat, so Severus simply had to follow the path, occasionally using his own wand to re-carve the path or cast a Warming Charm on himself, which was often. He could hear the other two professors follow him after a few moments, but Severus didn't look back. He wanted to be ready for any danger.

It didn't take long to catch up with the elderly wizard, just as he was reaching the entrance to the gates that surrounded Hogwarts. "Albus," Severus tried to call over the wind. "What is going on?"

Even though he didn't answer, Dumbledore glanced to him, his eyes having lost their twinkle and he looked his true age. He lifted his own wand and preform a silent spell over the gates, letting them swing towards him as they opened, groaning with the effort of pushing through the snow. Not even waiting for the gates to open fully, Dumbledore went through, but strangely enough, paused only a few feet outside the gate, looking off to the side briefly before moving again, disappearing.

'This old man in going to be the death of me.' Warming himself once again, he followed Dumbledore steps, moving past the gates and to the side. And froze in shock. 'What...'

Laying near the gates was a small body, curled next to the wall in some futile attempt to hid from the winter storm, skin pale as the snow that covered the child. Next to it was Fawkes, the phoenix, who was pressed against the child side, trying to protect the child from the wind and cooing sadly. Kneeling next to the child, Albus was quickly wiping the snow with his old hands. He didn't glance up at Severus, but spoke instead. "Severus, clear her off while I transfigure something into a blanket." He said this in his normal tone, but somehow sounded like a roar in the wind.

Nodding, Severus knelt as Dumbledore stood. He brought his hands out of his cloak - where he had briefly been protecting them from the harsh wind - and started to brush off the snow that had piled on her. As he did that, Fawkes made a noise that sounded like a pleased hum before hopping out of the way, backing away a few feet before spreading open its wings and taking flight, probably heading back to the castle.

Ignoring the mystical bird, Severus reached towards the girl again. He had expected the girl's skin - once cleared off - to be ice, but as his fingertips brushed the pale skin, he was startled to find out that her skin was still a bit warm. No, it wasn't her skin. It was residues of something... Severus eyes widen a little. Magic. Magic had covered her, like armor, and had protected her from the worse of the cold. It hadn't been strong magic, but it seemed to do enough, the snow around her not as deep as anywhere else indicating that she had melted the snow - possibly without even realizing she'd done it. But that magic was starting to disappear, and the girl was shivering violently, ice forming in her hair and eyelashes.

"Hold on," he muttered, brushing the larger piles of snow off her. "We'll get you warm soon." He looked her over carefully. With skin as white as snow, short hair as black as fresh ink, and delicate features, she almost looked like the child of an elf. The only reason he knew she wasn't was because she missed the shimmer that most elves had - even when unconscious.

The girl - who he thought was unconscious - whimpered when his fingers brushed the snow off her lap. Frowning, Severus looked to her lap, where her hands were laying. The arm laying on top was pale as the rest of her body, but her wrist was a multitude of colours - red, purple, black and blue. Severus hissed. her right wrist was broken, probably in multiple places. And now he could see other red and purple bruises forming over her legs, layering over old green and yellow ones, and he was sure their was even more hidden underneath her large jumper.

Was that why she had run into a snow storm, to get away from her attacker? But the closest residents was at Hogsmeade. And it almost seemed impossible that she could come at this way injured, and without being killed by the dangers of the forest nearby.

"Severus."

Looking up, Severus nodded as Dumbledore handed him a large blanket, he could feel the warmth running through it as he carefully wrapped it around her. The girl shivered again, but then sighed at the heat, trying to bury herself in it. As he carefully gathered her up, he was shocked by how light she felt, almost like a feather, and when he held her against his chest, he could feel almost every bone through the thick blanket. He didn't even need to use a Feather Weight Charm on her.

To his horror, she nuzzled up against him, probably seeking his warmth, and whimpered again before burying her face in his chest, hiding from the storm around them. Severus almost froze - it'd been a very long time since anyone was this close, even a child, and it made him uncomfortable. Still, he lifted his hand up - she was still so light he could hold her with one hand - and covered her face with the corners of the blanket, to protect it from the wind. It made his own cheeks burn a dark, red.

At least that's what he told himself.

"By the Goddess!"

McGonagall finally caught up with the two, and her shock was obvious. Flitwick gave something like a squeak, but it wasn't even heard. "What - what happened to her, Albus?" the Head of Gryffindor asked, looking between the Headmaster and Severus and the frozen girl. "Is she -"

"She's alive," Dumbledore answered. "But barely. We need to get her inside. Minerva, would you please head back and warn Poppy that we are in need of her services?"

Minerva nodded. "Of course." She turned on her heel and marched back to the castle, quickly disappearing within in the snow.

"Filius, will you please make sure that the children get back to their Houses?"

"Yes, Albus." With that, Flitwick turned back to Hogwarts, moving quicker then Severus had ever seen him move.

"Let's getting moving, Severus. We shouldn't keep her out here any longer."