AN: Sorry for the delay, it was just a matter of my own stressful life. It's good to be back.
That night, Harry went in to tuck in his thoughtful ward. He seemed to be preoccupied since their return from the Burrow, but did not seem anxious or worried.
"I told you she could cook," Harry told Severus as he straightened out the blankets.
"You did," Severus agreed. "I liked it very much. But especially the biscuits."
"Of course the biscuits," Harry laughed. "Though the sticky toffee pudding was nice as well."
"It was nice," Severus agreed. "Did she mean it, Mr. Potter?"
"Mean what?"
"She wants Ron to bring me over on days that I go into the shop with him to see Uncle George, and she wants to teach me how to cook."
"I don't think she offers many things that she doesn't mean," Harry told her honestly. "If she offered, then I think we can make that happen."
"Why does she want to teach me how to cook?" he asked softly.
"It's something she loves," Harry tried to be honest. "And your adult self was very good at potions, cooking should be very similar to that."
Severus sighed, looking away dejectedly.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.
"You all like him," Severus told him quietly. "You like some person who was some sort of amazing superspy. That's not me, I'm just some dumb kid who can't even read."
"Hermione said that you were doing better with that."
"I suppose," Severus shrugged. "But you guys are just nice to me because of him."
"And he isn't who you are anymore," Harry answered, understanding. "Are you worried you're not going to measure up?"
Severus nodded, looking away.
"I felt that way too a bit when I was a child," Harry told him. "Everyone expected me to be this big savior of the wizarding world or something, and it was all for something that happened when I was a baby. I couldn't even remember it. I felt like a fraud, and I felt like they were all expecting far too much. There were wizards with more power and smarter, so I wasn't sure why I was the one."
"And what happened?" Severus asked.
"Well, I did sort of save the world," Harry answered awkwardly. "But it was mostly by accident and I had tons of help. Without Ron and Hermione, well, let's just say it would have been a whole different story. And not just them either, loads of other people. But in the end, yes, it was me against Voldemort. And I won."
"I can't do anything like that," Severus told him.
"Of course you can't," Harry told him. "When I was your age and went to live with Professor Snape I didn't even know I was a wizard. What I'm trying to say, quite badly I guess, is that you don't have to do anything but be you. Yeah, I was fond of my dad and he was a crazy superspy. But I think I'm also going to grow quite fond of you, and excited to see what you can do with your life with a proper upbringing."
"Am I going to be like he was?" Severus asked, trying to ignore the beat his heart skipped when Harry said he could become fond of him.
"No," Harry answered. "Your life will be much different. The Headmistress had warned me about telling me too much about Professor Snape, and I'm wondering if she was right."
"In some ways it is good to know that as an adult I was respected," Severus told him. "I didn't, well, I didn't ever think that as a child."
"Good, we're playing this by ear," Harry told him. "Now I want you to go to sleep because I would like tomorrow to be much calmer than today."
"No guarantees," Severus grumbled as he snuggled under the blanket. He still couldn't believe how good it felt to have a clean, soft bed to lay in to go to sleep. "I'm pretty evil, you know."
"Oh?" Harry asked.
"I am," Severus replied, and then the snarky fun attitude changed. "I actually am. You may not want to be my guardian."
"Why is that?" Harry asked, smiling gently. "Did you off the last ones?"
"I wanted to," Severus replied. "I just realized, well, I just realized that I don't miss them at all. Not my mum nor my Father. My Father, well you know about him, so that's not too surprising. But my mum – she was the safest person I knew. But she, well, she –,"
"She failed you plenty," Harry told him. "It's okay you don't miss her now too much. As you get older you might miss her a bit, or maybe miss who she should have been. But it's okay if you don't miss her now."
"You already know more about me than she did," Severus admitted quietly.
"I know she was in a hard place and that she was unhappy," Harry told him. "But that is still no excuse. She should have taken better care of you."
"Tell me a story," Severus asked him.
"No more where I get in trouble and get smacked," Harry laughed, a bit relieved himself in the change of subject. "You're going to think that was my entire childhood."
"Tell of me of before," Severus urged. "Tell me of where you grew up before Professor Snape came and took you."
"The Dursleys," Harry nodded. "Are you sure? There are very few happy or funny things that took place there."
"I'm too old to need a fairy tale," Severus countered. "I just want to know I'm not the only one."
"Alright, one story," Harry nodded. "I will tell you about one of the first times I realized that there was something odd about me."
"But don't make it too happy of a story, alright?" Severus asked.
"Don't worry, it won't be," Harry assured him. "Especially when you think that most of the time accidental magic happens with stress. Now let me see, I was just a young child in my first year of school . . ."
. . .
School, which young Harry had hoped would be a good respite from the care of his relatives, found that it granted Dudley Dursley even more opportunities to torment him. Before even the first few weeks of his first year at school had passed, he had organized some of his friends to engage in what he termed "Harry hunting." Essentially, it consisted of Dudley tormenting and beating Harry if Harry did not figure out how to evade it. Harry had been a less than enthusiastic participant in this game, but of course had to participate nonetheless.
Several months into school, it had come to a head. Harry was already sore from the beating Dudley had given him the night before as well as a well-aimed kick Uncle Vernon had doled out as he had pushed the young man into his cupboard the night before. Harry was feeling desperate, scared, and dreading the pounding that was sure to come. He crouched behind a greasy, filthy rubbish collection bin hoping that the smell would put the bullies off.
"We know you're here, mate," Piers glowered at him.
"Is he crying yet?" Dudley asked, his voice sounding almost joyful. "I love it when he cries."
"If he's not now he'll do it soon enough," Piers answered nastily.
"Come out now, ickle little Pottykins," Dudley taunted. "If you come out now it won't be too bad. We'll just hit you a little."
"Just a small hiding for the one hiding," Piers giggled. "Out you come, now, mate. Don't make us fetch you."
Harry closed his eyes and wished with everything he had that they would see him – a small, ratty lump in too-big clothes hiding his face. They were coming closer, though, and Harry started to panic.
"Well, you're definitely upgrading to a decent beating," Dudley told him. "Come out now before we really let you have it . . ."
And suddenly, in a whoosh, Harry was no longer crouching in the smelly, close space behind the rubbish but instead was somewhere much cooler, windier, and fresher. Harry opened his eyes in shock to realize that he was up on the roof of the school, safely out of the reach of the bullies, and that he could see them circling the rubbish can below him. With an incredulous smirk, he saw Piers come around one side while Dudley came in the other, and how they pounced as if to catch him. He was far enough away to hear them yell at each other in disappointment, and make their way away from the cafeteria.
How did that happen? Harry wondered to himself, his body loosening as he realized that he had escaped.
. . .
"How did you get down?" Severus asked, breathless.
"I was an agile kid," Harry answered, shrugging. "I stayed up there until lunch break was nearly over and then I nipped down the gutters. Nobody the wiser. It never happened again, though I did wish it again on occasion."
"Did you kill Dudley when you became a wizard?" Severus asked, his own eyes flashing with revenge.
"No," Harry laughed. "When we were older Dudley had a run in with some death eaters that were trying to use him to get to me, thinking I still lived there. Luckily Professor Snape was able to save Dudley from the attack and then put some protections on the family, despite his "best judgment" as he put it. From then on he was a lot better; we made our peace."
"I would not have been so forgiving."
"I think at some point I realized he was in nearly as bad of a place as me with his parents," Harry told him. "I mean, they doted on him – but it was still really hard on him. He was expected to abuse me, they encouraged him to be a monster to me."
"Why did Professor Snape come and get you?" Severus asked.
"I'll tell you if you promise to go straight to bed after," Harry laughed. "I guess the last story was too short."
. . .
Severus Snape was not a bloody house elf, he thought to himself as he made his way to the perfectly manicured yard of Dudley and Petunia Dursley. Why had Dumbledore insisted on him visiting? Surely McGonagall would have been a better choice, she'd been the boy's parents bloody head of house. He did not need to see the spawn of James Potter living in the lap of luxury.
Grumpy and feeling put-upon, Severus Snape rapped on the door.
"You!" Petunia Dursley gasped as she looked upon the formidable wizard.
"It is indeed I," Snape responded with thick sarcasm. "Greetings. You will allow me to enter now."
"Go away!" she snapped at him. "Vernon is due home soon!"
"This visit will be as brief as possible," Snape informed her. "Now let me in before I make a scene for your neighbors."
Petunia complied reluctantly, seeming worried. Snape ignored her and looked around the suffocatingly neat house to eye the plump boy sitting on the couch and watching the telly, a large bowl of crisps balanced on his lap.
"Where is the Potter boy?" Snape asked sharply.
"He's not here . . ." she started.
"Don't lie to me," Severus snapped. "I can find him easily if I have to."
"In the cupboard," she motioned, her eyes wide and frightened. "He's being p . . . punished. He gets quite out of control, really, and the cupboard seems to calm him . . ."
"Show me," Severus replied severely.
Petunia quickly pulled back the bolt and opened the cupboard door to reveal a small, skinny and spectacled boy sitting on a small, stained cot. The air of the small cupboard did not have the air of a space where a child had a time-out, but rather the air of having been lived in. Snape's sharp eyes took in the details quickly – a crayoned picture, a few broken toys, and ratty, stained clothes that were obviously the other boy's oversized castoffs.
"Come here, Potter," Snape ordered him brusquely.
Too scared not to obey, Harry instantly obeyed, coming out of the cupboard and stood before the glowering Potions Master.
"I will ask you some questions and you will answer honestly," Snape ordered him firmly. "Even one thought of deception and I will know. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you, Mrs. Dursley, will be silent or I will compel you," he threated. She nodded in response, not wanting to risk it.
"My name is Professor Snape," he told him, realizing the boy might have little idea and realizing he could get better answers if the boy wasn't quite so scared. And though the seemed to shake with fear, he had yet to look him in the eye. "The nurse at your school has called in a complaint to the authorities that she believes you might not be well looked after and that you seem to have a lot of injuries. I have been sent to check on you, and lying to me would be a very serious mistake. Now tell me, where do you sleep at night?"
"In my cupboard," Harry answered in a voice little above a whisper. "Sir."
"Is it true that you are not fed adequately?" he persisted.
"I don't know, sir," Harry answered.
"Is your food limited or can you eat the quantity you desire?"
"Limited," Harry answered quietly, slipping his eyes sideways at his Aunt. He wanted to lie, but this stranger scared him with the threat that he would know a lie. Harry knew instinctively that he told the truth. "Especially when I'm bad."
"I see," Snape nodded. "And how are you punished?"
"Sir?" Harry asked, unsure.
"How do they punish you?" Snape persisted. "Do they hit you with something? Take away food? Restrict you to your cupboard?"
"Yes, sir," Harry answered, squirming. Uncle Vernon would give him the strap for sure for telling, but there was some desperate hope in his chest that this man could actually do something about his miserable life. He certainly had Aunt Petunia intimidated.
"Which one?" Snape snapped, losing patience.
"All of them, sir," Harry answered, near tears. "Mostly the strap, but the cane too if I'm really bad from Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia has gotten me a few times with the frying pan as well."
"Take of your shirt," he demanded, glaring at Aunt Petunia. She responded with a frightened squeak as Harry took off his shirt with no further protest. The beating from the night before stood in livid contrast on the pallid, skinny frame. The strap had obviously been uncontrolled and had wrapped around the bony ribcage to snap painfully as well as patterning his back. Snape could count every rib.
"Grab anything you want to keep," Snape told him firmly. "And you can replace your shirt. I am taking you with me."
Harry looked up in a mixture of hope and alarm, and Snape felt his heart wrench when he saw the vulnerable emerald of Lily's own eyes meet his. How could this be?
"We were just trying to raise him properly!" Petunia protested. "He's a horrible . . ."
"Enough!" Snape growled, casting a silencing charm and regaining iron-clad control of his emotions. "You can discuss it with the police. This boy will never be under your power again. You will rue the day you did this, Petunia Dursley."
With that and a flurry of his cloak, Snape grasped the shoulder of the boy. "We are going to apparate," Snape informed him. "We are going to disappear here and go somewhere else, somewhere safe. Have you done this before?"
"I have, sir," Harry answered simply, nodding. "By accident."
And with that, they apparated away.