SEVEN
Harry Hunting began at eight thirty sharp the next morning, around the same time Severus woke up with a slight hangover back at Spinner's End. By ten o'clock, a bruised and breathless Potter found himself drowning in the campground swimming pool, as Dudley held him under water to show off to his newfound friends, muggle versions of Crabbe and Goyle. They had long since confiscated his wand, and the two louts were making a mockery of wizardry on the pool deck, taking turns squealing nonsensical and nonexistent spells.
"Wretched squibs," Snape muttered to himself as he gained access to the premises, just before he realized the danger that Harry was in. The feeling that overcame him was at once instantaneous and portentous when he heard Potter scream. At first, he couldn't see from where the boy had cried. In short order, he saw that Harry was floundering anew under the aquamarine water of the wading pool, being held down by his corpulent cousin.
Drawing his wand instinctively, Snape wasted no time in casting a body-bind curse on the portly perpetrator. While the Dursley boy summarily fell to the ground, he noticed Potter had stopped struggling and had failed to surface. Without another thought, Severus leapt into the pool to the drowning boy's aid. Roughly pulling Harry into his arms, Snape brought him to the side of the pool and rushed to unblock his airways with the anapneo spell.
"Breathe, Potter, breathe!" Severus implored him afterwards, his large hands gripping the boy's thin shoulders. Drenched and battered, the young man lying before him seemed abnormally small for this age – his baggy clothing now flush with his pale skin. Snape was quick to turn him on his side when the pitiful boy began to spit up chlorinated water. Harry could not yet see who was holding him as he finally caught his breath, his cheek pressed to the concrete.
"Snape?" Harry acknowledged him as he sat up slowly, blinking his green eyes under the hot summer sun.
Severus said nothing as he reached out and touched the boy's bruised face, uttering a healing spell. Seething with anger, he turned to the recumbent figure of Dudley Dursley. Terror was evident in the boy's glazed-over eyes as the black-haired wizard hovered over him.
"If you ever –" he began dangerously, his hand to the muggle boy's thick neck, "Lay a finger on your cousin again – I…will...kill…you. Make no mistake."
Rennervating the chubby boy, Snape was not surprised to see him scamper off to join his idiotic sidekicks, who were currently making themselves dizzy on the playground roundabout.
"My wand!" Harry cried, remembering his disarmament, "Professor, they took my wand!"
"Accio Harry Potter's wand," Snape remedied the situation, recalling the wand from the other side of the pool, where the wayward scoundrels had left it.
"Thank you, sir," Harry said quietly, accepting the wand from his professor, "You had to save me again. I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" Snape snorted, "Whatever for, you foolish boy? Are you sorry to be alive?"
"No, no…not really. I mean, of course not! I'm just sorry I needed saving, is all," Harry scrambled to explain what he had meant by his queer apology, "I know what you really wanted was to spend your summer in peace, and instead you're having to come check on me all the time."
"While your concern for my lack of free time is touching, Potter, it is not necessary," Severus rolled his eyes, "Believe it or not, I am simply grateful that I am having this bothersome conversation with you, rather than having to explain to Professor Dumbledore why it is you're in the morgue."
"Really?" Harry could not help but to give his professor a shy smile after this admission.
"Contrary to what you may think Potter, I have a vested interest in your wellbeing. I do happen to care whether you live or die, however strange that might seem to you," Snape's withering tone masked the import of this statement, "I may be labouring under a misapprehension here, but it would appear to me, Potter, that this is not the first time you have been bullied in such a manner. Am I correct?"
Humiliated, Harry blushed and hugged his knees to his chest.
"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a seat next to Harry on the concrete, "Is it because they don't like that you're a wizard?"
Harry nodded, "And because…" he began softly, "Because…because I'm gay."
"I thought as much," Snape growled, startling the boy next to him.
"You're the only one…" Harry whispered almost inaudibly.
"The only one – what?" Snape snapped, misplaced ire still boiling over from the pool incident.
"You don't care that…." the boy tried to explain, but Severus caught his meaning.
"Well, why should I? Your cousin and Weasley both have another thing coming if they think they'll find an ally in me on that count. I must say though, your father would be turning over in this grave."
"My dad hated gay people?" Harry looked at Snape with frightened eyes, as if he were in danger of being haunted by his homophobic father. Severus had regretted it, as soon as he said it. Damn, did the boy ever look crestfallen! It took all his strength not to temper the child's suffering with something other than hollow words.
"No," Snape said softly, "He wouldn't hate you, Harry."
