A/N- Do not own. So here it is, the one year anniversary. Sorry it is late, but life happens. Italics here is memories or thoughts. X's are scene breaks. Cute in places and serious in others. Enjoy. And please, use your words.

~Case

-x-

"Tim?"

He turned, brown eyes finding the small preteen. The boy was hovering near the table, biting into his lip once more. "Yes child?" He responded, absentmindedly stirring the soup.

Harry hesitated, watching the man's movements for a moment. He actually liked to cook, but the men hadn't let him, so far. "Can I help?"He queried carefully, fiddling with his shirt.

He hesitated this time, turning it over quickly. They didn't want the child to feel like he had to do these things but if the child really just wanted to help, he couldn't really deny him. He wasn't going to allow him to use the stove, at least not alone, but perhaps the child could prepare the salad. Tim was sure there was a child-safe knife in one of the drawers. "If you would like to, Harry. Would you like to prepare a salad for us?" He responded finally, frowning slightly when the child jumped at the distant boom of thunder. One storm was moving out and another was moving it. They were in for a few days of this weather, which made Severus quite displeased and pained the younger man greatly.

He nodded quickly, moving toward the counter where the Healer had already set the makings for a simple salad. The lettuce he could hand shred and then chop the tomatoes and carrots. He grabbed the stool that Albus had conjured for him days ago, so that he could wash his hands on his own. He wasn't that small! The men were just very tall and everything was higher up here. Perhaps that wasn't true but it hurt his pride to know that they thought he was too small to do anything substantial. Too small to cook or clean. He liked to cook and if he couldn't do chores, how would he earn his keep?

Tim watched the boy shred lettuce leafs for a minute, shaking his head sadly. No child of barely eleven should be that experienced in cooking. Helping from time to time yes, but not knowing how to shred leafs to be exactly the same size. He turned back to the soup, adding just a bit of spices. It was a simple chicken and rice mixture, hearty enough for a meal and it would add enough protein and calories for both young men. It would also warm all of them up. Hopefully it would stop raining soon, but he doubted it. Weather spells showed that while the worst of the storm would be gone in a few days, it would rain for the rest of the week and perhaps part of the next. He glanced over at the child and froze. The boy was chopping carrots with the skill of an adult and a chopping knife. A chopping knife that he shouldn't be using. He could cut off his fingers with those. "Harry?" He murmured calmly, watching the child's sure movements.

"Yes, sir?"

"I'd prefer if you used a different knife." He replied causally, moving to get the child-safe knife out of the drawer.

"Why?" Harry questioned, resting the blade gently on the cutting board, holding the knife with ease. It wasn't much different than some of the ones he had used at Uncle's, although Aunt Petunia didn't like him to use the really sharp blades. He had to do most of the chopping before she was in the room and she didn't like him using the stove alone, like he was some little kid. He wasn't! He was a man!

"Because no one under twenty uses those knives." Tim replied dryly, setting the smaller, safer blade in front of the child and holding his hand out for the sharper one.

"I'm not a child!" He snapped. He then flinched, drawing back. Uncle would have beaten him for his words alone; the disrespect would have made it so much worse, maybe even several beatings. And although deep down he knew they wouldn't beat him, he just couldn't believe that. If nothing else, they wouldn't want him anymore. How could they? He was a worthless, ungrateful freak. No one should ever want a freak like him. "Sorry." He whispered, letting go of the handle of the knife and shaking slightly. He waited for several moments, eyes clenched tight, but no blow came.

"I will not harm you Harry." He murmured softly, resting a gentle hand on the child's shoulder. The boy flinched but he had expected that. "You are a child and you will be a child for many years. I don't want you using that knife because I don't want you to get hurt, Harry. The knife is almost longer than your forearm, a smaller one would be easier to use." He explained, waving his hand at the stove. The eyelet turned itself down so the soup would not burn and the chopping knife vanished back to where it had came.

He blinked, frowning up at the healer. He wouldn't have got hurt, he used knives like that all the time! But perhaps the man had not known that, had only wanted him to be safe. And he had snapped at him, which he shouldn't have done anyway. And yet the man still said he wouldn't beat him. He just didn't understand. Why were they so nice to him? They didn't treat him correctly at all! "Sorry sir." He whispered again, biting his lip.

"For what, Harry?" Tim asked gently, placing a hand under the child's chin and lifting green eyes up to meet his. Although the outburst was bound to happen eventually, he was actually glad that the child was slowly becoming comfortable enough to argue with them; to act like a child. Besides that, he had been cursed at so many times by teenagers and young adults that a little bit of anger was nothing. It came with his job. He would have been more worried if the child never had a reaction like that, so he wasn't upset by it at all.

He grimaced, trying to avoid looking into the Healer's eyes. Uncle had always hated eye contact and had often used tricks like this before he beat him. Often asked pointless questions. Because surely Tim knew what he had done wrong. But he didn't think the healer would beat him, even if he really didn't understand why. "I was rude to you." He muttered finally,digging his nails into his palm.

"Stop it, child. You have nothing to be sorry for." He grabbed the child's hand, smoothing the small fingers out gently. He causally turned the hand over, scrutinizing the red marks from the child's nails. He had just unwrapped the boy's hand this morning, from where he had gotten cut two days prior, and the boy's nails had dug into the recently healed cut. Thankfully, they had not reopened the gash but the child's nails would need to be trimmed. "I understand that you were upset and I am not angry about it, Harry. You have been taught that you are not a child, but you are. You are a child, you have the right to be cared for and treated as a child. You do not have to act like an adult anymore but I know that is hard for you to accept. It will take time, but if you let us, we will help you." Tim added softly, squeezing the small hand gently for a moment before letting go and motioning toward the smaller knife once more.

Harry bit his lip, tilting his head to the side. He didn't understand! He was unlovable, a freak...and yet they were still kind to him. Tim wanted to help him, he just didn't understand what he needed help with. He wasn't a child. Was he? Uncle had always said that only good boys got to be treated well, didn't have to do chore or get beaten. That only they could be loved, only they could be children. And he wasn't good. He knew that. Even if Severus had been right, late last night when he had crawled into bed with the man, and the man had let him! A freak like him! Severus had said that aunt sent him away because she wanted him, because she cared about him. But that didn't make sense either. None of this made sense! In one quick motion, he slammed his head into the counter-top, barely missing the knife and cutting board.

"Harry!"

He was suddenly in the air, an arm wrapped around his waist, being pulled away from the counter. He wriggled, fighting to get down. He was bad! He needed to be punished! It didn't make sense! It didn't!

He had turned toward the stove for one brief second, to turn the soup on a low setting, to keep it warm, and the child was slamming his head into the counter! He didn't even know what had set the squirming child off. He had tried to swing the child onto his hip so that he could carry him easier and assess the damage quickly but the boy was fighting him. He moved quickly toward the sitting room, casting a simple spell at the stove, one arm wrapped around the boy's waist and the other trying to pin his arms. This was not his first rodeo, after all. He sighed as nails scratched at his arms and feet kicked back into his legs. "Enough Harry!" He ordered briskly, though he knew it probably wouldn't help. He needed to get the boy calm before he harmed himself again; he also needed to get those blasted shoes off the boy's feet!

"No! Down! Bad!" Harry shouted, kicking wildly. He needed down. He was bad. He was bad. Bad. Why couldn't they understand? He was bad.

"Harry!" Severus growled, managing to pull himself up from his armchair and leveraged himself toward them, leaning heavily on his cane.

"His shoes, Sev!" Tim hissed, flinching when a particularly hard kick managed to connect with his thigh.

The potions master nodded his understanding, grabbing one of the child's flailing feet and pulling the shoe off quickly. He released that foot, grabbing for the other when it managed to connected with his right leg. He grimaced, biting his lip to squelch the rush of pain. Of course the little brat would kick his bad leg. He caught the other foot, yanking the shoe off before stepping back. The limbs were still flying about every which way, Tim would need some of his bruise salve. He straightened his leg slowly, not bothering to hide the pain this time as nerves sent shock-waves up his body. A hand steadied him from behind, an arm wrapping around his shoulder and pulling him away from the screaming child, back toward his armchair. He noted that the boy's forehead was a deep red before glancing over his shoulder at Albus. He hadn't even heard the floo go off.

"What do you need, Tim?" Albus asked, eyes on the distraught boy even as he pushed his son back into his chair. He conjured a footstool with an absent wave of his hand, knowing that Severus would never admit it but he would need it desperately.

"NO! Bad! FREAK! NO! HURT!" He wailed, pounding his feet into the person still holding him. He tried to hit as well, but his arms were pinned to his chest, a larger arm across them.

"Armchair." Tim growled, adjusting the child so that he wouldn't drop him in his wiggling. He had been trying to get him to his armchair but it was across the room and the child was not making this easy. "Shh, Harry. It's alright. Breathe." He murmured through gritted teeth, ignoring the sting when now sock-covered feet slammed into him again. The child had fought every attempted at calming magic so far; he couldn't even get a drop of it in the boy! If he didn't get him calm soon, his magic was going to start spilling out or someone was going to get seriously hurt.

He nodded, waving his wand at the healer's armchair. He sent it flying over to them, landing softly a few metres away from the pair. Albus hesitated for a moment before changing the armchair slightly, so that it was now like a rocker. Hopefully that would help.

He carefully sat down, pulling the child onto his lap and finally pinning the boy's legs with one of his. He pulled Harry back against his chest, murmuring comforting nonsense into the child's ear, keeping his arms pinned as well.

Harry struggled for a few minutes longer before the soft words finally started to get through the haze of his mind. He stopped trying to kick and turned his head, burying his face into the healer's shirt as a trickle of calm started to fill him.

Tim rocked slowly, gently loosening his hold on the child. Now that the boy was no longer fighting his magic he could scan him for damage. He pulled the child back from his chest a bit, resting a gentle hand on his forehead and letting his magic scan the boy. A bit of bruising to the skin, but nothing serious. The child was lucky; a bit harder and he would have given himself a concussion. He turned the boy slowly, so that he could rest more comfortably against his chest. "Sh, that's it Harry. I got you." He murmured soothingly, feeling the tears soak through his shirt. The child responded by crying harder. He sighed softly, rubbing circles into his back, letting just a bit more of his magic flow into the child.

"Sorry." He choked out, letting the tears streak down his face. He made no noise but his shoulders shook and his head hurt a bit. "Was bad."

"It's alright, child. We'll talk about it later." He murmured, adding just a drop more magic. The boy was slowly calming down and he knew it was just a matter of minutes before the boy fell asleep. He had emotionally, and physically, exhausted himself after all. He kept rocked with the child, listening as his breathing evened out and his tears finally stopped. The young face was still buried in his chest and he could feel the child falling asleep.

He blinked rapidly, trying to force himself to keep his eyes open. But he was tired. So tired. And he just wanted to be held. He was being held, gently even, by the healer. It felt...nice.

It took several minutes but Harry was finally fully asleep on his lap. Thankfully, there was no concussion to worry about so the child could safely sleep. He bit back a groan when careful hands lifted the boy off of him and onto the transfigured couch. The boy's fighting had hurt and he could do with a nap himself, to be honest.

Albus gently laid the child onto what was recently a couch, now a bed, and covered him with a brightly coloured blanket. He tucked the child in, summoning the dragon, Aros, that the boy carried around. He placed the dragon in the child's arms, turning to his two young men. He had already tended to Severus' leg, it had a new bruise blooming over the old wounds, while Tim had attempted to calm the child. Now, however, it was time to tend to his oldest, even though Tim had been his healer to begin with, he had become like a child to him. Even if the younger man didn't realize it yet. He gently took the man's wrist, turning his arm to see the long, red scratches. "Harry did this? " He murmured softly, shaking his head. The child had fought like his life had depended on it, and maybe in the past it had. But now, with their help, the child could grow into a healthy, happy lad. They would just have to get through this stage of healing first and it could be a rather long stage.

Tim grimaced, tugging his wrist but the older man wouldn't budge. He could feel the bruises starting to form but it wasn't that bad. He had worst after all; he worked with children and teenagers who often fought any comfort or help because it was foreign. Severus had been that way, although the man had never fought him like this. Perhaps because Severus had been in his early twenties when he took over as his healer; the worst that the younger man ever dealt out were kicks and that had been rare. "One of us will need to clip his nails. I'd hate to think of the damage he could do to himself." He responded finally, knowing that the Potions Master would have already cast a silencing spell.

He nodded solemnly, glancing once more over at the sleeping child before turning back to tend to the scratches and bruises on the young healer. He gently rubbed the healing salve over the scratches, pulling back slightly to wave his wand over the healer. His diagnostic charms were not as strong as Tim's, or even Severus', but they worked well enough for basic day to day encounters with children. Tim had taught him a few more complicated ones, that he had then passed on to his staff, to help detect abuse much earlier, but this basic charm was good enough for this. The man growled at him when he started putting a bruise cream on his legs, jerking slightly. Merlin! Healers made the worst patients! "Let me help you, child." Albus murmured softly, reaching over and squeezing the younger man's shoulder. It took a moment but Tim finally relaxed, exhaustion hitting him, and gave in to his gentle care.

-x-

An early dinner and a bath later, Harry was sleeping again. His outburst earlier had drained the boy and although Tim did not want to admit it, he was tired as well. It wasn't the first time he had handled such outbursts and struggles but they were always tiring. He bit back a sigh, glancing through the sheets of parchment once more. Harry's medical records and what they had managed to get from his primary school. Which wasn't much. The boy had attended classes regularly, had always been quiet and shy. Did well on tests, read above his level, and stayed out of trouble. There were notes from the nurse about Harry's eyes and a note that the boy was fidgeted and didn't always focus. That was it, that was all the school had on Harry. A child who was taught to never ask or answer questions, who was trying to pay attention to all the perceived threats at once and fidgeted because he knew being still meant getting caught easily. So little about the child and yet it told him so much. The medical records, the ones he had started, painted a vivid picture of abuse and neglect. None of that explained why the child had started slamming himself into the counter, nor why the child thought he needed to be punished. And his conversation with Harry, after the child had woken from his nap, had not gone as well as he hoped.

"Can you tell me what happened, Harry?"

The child merely shook his head, biting his lip. He had been bad, he knew that. He had hurt the healer, even if he hadn't meant to. "Sorry." He whispered.

"For what, child?"

"Hurting you. Was bad." Harry shrugged, staring at his feet. And now the healer would laugh and say he was a freak and should be sorry. Now they'd send him back to Uncle. His chest hurt at the thought, he didn't want to go back to Uncle. He liked it here.

Tim sighed, observing the blank expression and the fear in those young eyes. "I understand that it was an accident Harry. I am more concerned about why you were harming yourself." He replied quietly, clarifying when the boy merely blinked at him. "Hitting your head."

He grimaced, shaking his head slowly. Uncle had always liked to watch him punish himself. Why was it so different here? They didn't like it when he did that, so he would have to do it in private from now on. Because he knew he deserved the pain, Uncle had always said so. "Was bad, sir. Deserved it."

He raised an eyebrow at the child, leaning forward. "You believe you deserved to be punished, Harry? So you harmed yourself?" He questioned briskly, knowing from the way the child looked down that it was true. The child believed he deserved the pain, that he had done something that needed to be punished with pain. But the child had done nothing except for being a child. "You do not deserve to be punished, Harry. If you think you do, that you deserve pain, I want you to tell me, alright?" Hopefully he could break the child of harming himself before it became an ingrained way of life. But the child had not answered him, had not even looked at him.

"Tim? Tim." Albus called for the fourth time, breathing a sigh of relief when the younger man finally looked up at him.

"Mind sharing with the rest of us?" Severus drawled dryly, setting his book on his lap.

He sighed, glancing at the younger man for a moment before turning his attention to the older one. Severus would need a relaxant salve on his leg soon, before it started cramping up again. "Harry seems prone to harming himself when he perceives that he has done something 'bad'." Tim stated finally, running a hand through brown hair.

Albus bit back a groan, observing both of the younger men. The child would not be ready to live in the dorms in three weeks time, not at all. A child who was prone to harming himself...they would have to nip this in the bud, help him change his reactions to situations but he needed to know something first. "Is it possible to change this? Or is he entering a cycle of self harm?" He questioned, glancing at the squirming potions master. If he had been able to catch Severus' before it became a habit and then an automatic response, the last eight or so years would not had been as much of a struggle for the younger man. And he would still have full use of his right leg. But he hadn't caught it in time, hadn't been able to prevent it. This time, however, he would not fail one of his children.

He knew what Albus was asking, of course, but he also knew that it would be a hard task either way. The child would need an outlet, a constructive one, because he did not what Harry to end up like him. Even if he didn't harm himself anymore...alright, well he had a slip-up this week, but it happened. He didn't wish that on the child; hell, he didn't wish that on anyone. It had taken a bit of cajoling for Albus to convince the child to let him clip his nails, but hopefully shorter nails would keep him from scratching himself, at least. Tim would have already warded the child's room and there would be safety spells on all the knives...perhaps a few cushioning charms might help as well. Because even if they couldn't completely prevent Harry from harming himself, they could lessen the amount of harm he could do.

"It is possible, yes. But it will take work and reinforcing good habits. You know how it works, Albus. If we see him harming himself, we stop the behaviour and have him talk about it, and then suggest something else he could have done instead." Tim replied, closing his eyes for a brief moment, There was so much to do to help this child, to teach him.

He nodded once, watching the younger man for a longer moment. There was much to do before school start, but that was alright. It would get done. He had three children to take care of, after all. Three young men who needed love and love was what he would give them.