A/N: Good news! Here's an entire chapter of Harry and Severus interaction to make up the complete lack of it last week. Also, I'm on schedule. :)

Less good news: In order to be on schedule and because school is a thing, this chapter has had a lot less editing than the rest so far. I'm happier with it than I thought I was but please let me know about any mistakes.

...

The child was actually eating for once. He was eating, laughing with his friends, caked in mud and… wait what? Severus whipped his head back in an honest to Merlin double-take. Hopefully no one noticed because that was just short of mortifying. But Potter was plastered in muck from head to toe and there was a broomstick propped up against the bench next to him. He was utterly bewildered for several agonizing moments until it clicked – it was the Gryffindor quidditch try outs today – and morphed into disbelief. Surely the boy wasn't so foolish as to take a broom where every member of the Hogwarts teaching staff would see it? Everyone knew first-years weren't allowed brooms and more importantly Severus knew for a fact that Potter didn't own a broom. But the proof couldn't be clearer if the child drank Veritaserum; he had tried out.

Severus observed for a while longer and as the shock wore off, more odd things became evident. Firstly, and most concerningly, he was injured. Potter was right-handed but he had eaten the entire meal rather awkwardly, using just his left. His right completely lay still on the table with his hand clenched in a fist. Secondly, he and his friends were surrounded by the rest of Gryffindor Quidditch Team. They were all joking loudly with wide grins all around. It was undoubtedly a celebration meaning that somehow the boy – looking more at ease among his peers than he had yet appeared to – had succeeded in becoming their new Seeker. Joining the team was a feat even James Potter hadn't pulled off until his third year.

None of the other players were even damp though. A quick glance up at the ceiling confirmed that while the sky was gloomily overcast, yesterday's torrential downpour had yet to resume. So, the child had likely fallen from the broomstick and that would account for the arm as well, rather than a bludger. And thirdly… no he supposed that was it. Still, he needed to speak to Potter.

Appetite chased off by this latest development, Severus flicked his wand. It was a harmless charm that caused an unsettling prickling on the back of one's neck. Sure enough, the child soon looked directly up the Hall to him. He raised an eyebrow and watched with amusement as Potter's eyes widened in realisation before he turned back to stare at the broom in panic. He then looked guiltily at Severus so he jerked his head towards the main entrance and stood up. He shook out his robes so they billowed properly as he prowled between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.

By the time he met the boy at the doors his mood was improved from deducting a total of twenty-seven points for general immature behaviour. Severus regarded Potter with – not that he'd admit it – interest, as he stared determinedly at the puddle collecting at their feet. His shoulders were slumped, resigned and he just knew this conversation would create conflict.

"We're going to my office, Potter."

"Yes, sir."

…

The boy perched on the edge of the uncomfortable wooden chair opposite the desk, his feet didn't even touch the ground. Severus relaxed back into his own high-backed seat which while it appeared equally severe to the students', was actually imbued with several Cushioning Charms. It was a point of honour? Dignity? Stubbornness?... that he didn't have a squishy armchair; he wasn't Pomona (and that was the point of his private quarters after all), nor would he tolerate something more throne-like. He had no desire to indulge in such pretentions as Albus Dumbledore or indeed the Dark Lord. Furniture need only be functional.

Having left the boy stewing in tense silence for longer than intended, he steeled himself and withdrew his wand to set it gently down on his desk in full view of Potter. Then Severus double-checked his Occlumency shields. Judging by the last three weeks, there were more disgusting revelations about to be had.

"With your permission, Mr. Potter, may I clean the mud off and dry your clothes?"

The child looked shocked, "Yes, Professor."

After a couple efficient swishes of his wand, Potter still looked thoroughly unkempt but at least not so filthy or sodden. Severus felt relieved himself now that the child was clean enough to not pose a severe contamination risk to his rarer Potions' ingredients. Although he still eyed his hair critically. A fine film of dirt had crusted itself over the wayward locks, sticking them even more firmly in ridiculous directions. For once, his own hair wasn't the worst in the room.

"Thanks, sir."

"Of course, Mr. Potter. But I shall also take the liberty of suggesting that you still have a shower."

He at least had the decency to look embarrassed and ran an ineffectual hand through the mess which flopped right back over his face again, "Yes, sir."

Severus considered him once more, searching for a way to stall – though he'd never admit it – the inevitable battle over the boy's wrist. Unfortunately, that left him with the equally undesirable option of stilted small talk, "I did not think to ask when we were in Hogsmeade, but wouldn't you like a haircut?"

Potter's face instantly paled and he scooted his chair back so viciously that it rendered a horrible shriek against the cool dungeon flagstones. Honestly it was a wonder he didn't tumble onto the floor himself what with the simultaneous whiplash-inducing head shaking that Severus found himself a sudden, startled witness too. He was at a loss as to what he did to cause such a fervent reaction.

Carefully, he placed his wand on the desk in full view once more, and then leaned back into his chair where he sat very still until the child finally calmed enough to look at him again, albeit like a unicorn in the lamp-light. Severus spoke softly and vehemently hoped that this time it wouldn't cause unbridled panic; the complete opposite to the usual affect he went for, "Mr. Potter, I apologise for frightening you. It was not my intention," now he just sounded as if he were under the influence of the Imperius curse, brilliant, "I assure you that whatever consequences you are currently expecting will not occur. You are not in trouble for how you choose to wear your hair nor for your, erm… reaction just now."

Gradually, Potter's shoulders slumped and the hunted gleam faded from his eyes. He nodded warily, "I'm still in trouble though, aren't I?"

Forcing his face not to betray his amusement, he affirmed, "Since you are a first-year in possession of a broomstick, yes you are. However, taking into account that you are obviously not the student who smuggled it in, I believe you will find the consequences quite generous. But we will discuss that further after I have taken a look at your arm."

The relief on the child's face – even wary as it was – immediately faded to poorly concealed dismay. Severus, still trying not to push too quickly, cautiously stood and began gathering various supplies from around his office. He brightened a couple of the lamps to keep the gloom at bay and so he could see the injury in question better. Returning to the desk he set everything down and glanced back at Potter who was now making an admirable yet wildly unsuccessful attempt at an expression of innocence and confusion, "My arm, sir?"

He sighed and slowly pushed his chair round to the front of the desk so he wouldn't tower over the child, "Yes Mr. Potter, I would like to see your right arm."

"But why? My arm is fine," he seemed very unhappy about the new seating arrangement.

"Then why don't you prove that?" Severus asked silkily. He waited and watched Lily's characteristic show of stubbornness play across his face, "No?"

"This is not a negotiation, Potter," he struggled not to speak quite so coldly as he did in class. It wouldn't do to traumatise the child further. Reluctantly, he extended his arm towards Severus from where it had been cradled against his body while turning his face away and down.

He pulled the sleeve of Potter's hoodie back and examined the wrist. It was swollen and slightly bruised. The slightest pressure appeared to make him wince. An odd fluttering in his periphery brought Severus' attention to the hand which he now realised had been tightly clenched the entire time. Then a soft whirring hit his ears and a silvery, feathery wing forced its way out between two fingers. So, the child had actually caught a Snitch.

He handed Potter a Pain-reliever Potion, "Fortunately, this is only sprained."

"Yes, I know," the boy said tightly.

"Oh?"

"I know what sprains feel like. My ankle, remember?"

"Indeed," Severus replied with incredible control and calmness, considering the sudden angry indignation pulsing through him. That the boy was well versed enough in pain that he could self-diagnose such an injury… He wearily wondered why he was even surprised anymore.

"That potion should have numbed the area by now. Please release the Snitch, Mr. Potter."

The boy finally turned back around, albeit with suspicion, seemingly having forgotten his usual aversion and fear to anything that could be construed as disobedience, "Do I have to?"

Severus' head was beginning to hurt from the number of times he'd had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at this child in the last month, "Yes Potter, you do. Since you recklessly saw fit not to seek medical attention from Madam Pomfrey then you must not obstruct my efforts to correct the consequences of such a lapse in judgement. You can be certain that I shall be speaking to your captain for not assuring the health of his players. But right now, we are healing your wrist and for that you must let go of the Snitch… For Merlin's sake, I'm not confiscating it, child! What would I want with it? You can have it back when I'm done."

Potter finally, agonisingly slowly opened his hand and the Snitch instantly started whizzing around above their heads. Severus forcefully stamped down his irritation at momentarily losing his composure as well as the new distracting movement and noise.

"Please, I don't want Wood to be in trouble," the child implored, "he didn't know."

"Really? You caught the Snitch and fell Merlin knows how far. Do you honestly expect me to believe that he didn't notice or had no time at the end of try outs?" he failed to contain his derisive snort.

He shrank back, "I fell in the middle of try outs at the same time as someone else. I waved him away to them and started flying again. It took ages until the Snitch appeared."

Severus all but gaped as he reeled in the disbelief that Potter had fallen, sprained his wrist, started flying again but surely with only one hand and then caught the Snitch. No one in their right mind… "Of all the foolhardy…" he floundered, "You caught a Snitch with a sprained wrist and then just went off to lunch?"

"Yeah, so?"

"But why?"

Potter scoffed, "Why not? It's not that bad and I really wanted to make the team. Not like I've never sprained my wrist before. Really, Madam Pomfrey… this, I don't need it. I've managed without my whole life. And why would I assume an adult would help, when no one's ever cared before?"

Severus stared at his own hands. Couldn't the child see that Hogwarts was not his Aunt and Uncle's house? Surely, after that first night he should know that healing would never be denied to him. How could he not think to ask? There was nothing he was thinking right now that would be helpful to say so he kept his mouth shut and busied himself with the task at hand. Bruise Balm, bandages, ice, a potion to help heal and strengthen the muscle tissue faster. The child stayed silent also and he observed the stiffness gradually melting from his shoulders. If not relaxed, Potter was at least not flinching away at the slightest touch as he healed him.

Once he settled a façade of calmness and indifference within his mind again, he felt it safe to speak, "Mr. Potter, due to your worrying actions today regarding your hair and complete lack of regard for your well-being, I am compelled to ask that you explain these reactions."

Merlin, the imperiused voice again. As Lily often teased, he sounded like a robot. And he knew it was hardly encouraging to sound so emotionless about such a sensitive matter. Severus bit back a groan, "Please. I know you don't want to talk about it but at the very least I need to know about the injuries you arrived at Hogwarts with. I was serious about you getting new guardians before. You don't, shouldn't have to go without healing now or ever again."

Potter had pulled his arm back and was hugging himself rounded the middle, leaning forward, shoulders curled. His eyes once more fixated on the floor. Severus hoped fervently that he wouldn't throw up, neither of them were in a state to deal with that as well. But the child didn't appear to be having a panic attack so he sat still and waited. Although, his face was pale, his breathing remained even. He waited.

An eternity later, the child drew in a deep breath and straightened. Potter's face was tipped up to stare just past Severus' left ear although his eyes were unfocused. In an equally dull voice he began to speak, "My hair wasn't always so long but Aunt Petunia always hated how wild it was. She used to shave it all off apart from the fringe to hide my scar. And then it would just grow back overnight. The moment Hagrid left everything got so much worse than ever before. Three days before Hogwarts I got angry and figured that if my hair grows back in my sleep and I could probably will it to grow longer if I wanted it enough. It worked but I didn't duck the frying pan fast enough. That was the lump you found on my head."

Severus sat stock still in shock. He absorbed everything and fought to keep his face impassive. The words kept coming.

"The more faded bruises on my face were Dudley and his gang. To get away in one round of 'Harry-hunting' I climbed a tree to get over the tall chain metal fence around the park. I sprained my ankle jumping down. The black eye and split lip and bruises on my ribs and the marks on my back were all Uncle Vernon. Dudley just used his fists but Uncle Vernon liked to get in a few kicks or lashes with his belt too. Just for stuff I was always doing wrong, general being an ungrateful burden stuff. You know like not finishing my chores fast enough, doing something freaky, not being quiet enough or my tummy growling…"

He trailed off and Severus desperately sought for something to say or do but there was nothing that could ever make this right. In the end, all he could do was hand Potter a handkerchief for the silently streaming tears and occasional sniff. Clearing his throat roughly, he found that he could express the most inadequate of sentiments, "Thank you for telling me. That was very brave."

Potter refused to acknowledge him, which for once Severus couldn't fault him for. That had sounded just as empty as Dumbledore's apology in the Hospital Wing. Resigned to the reigning silence, he went back to his desk and retrieved a tin of Minerva's blasted Ginger Newts that she'd forced on him last Christmas. He prised off the lid and set it down next to the boy, another worthless gesture, "Help yourself."

Then he conjured a sling and sat back down. Potter eyed him suspiciously again even as he nibbled on the head of a biscuit, "I don't need that."

"Yes, you do. You'll heal faster. It's only necessary for three days," he folded the fabric methodically, slowly, trying not to rush the boy or frighten him by coming too close to just fasten the sling around his bony shoulders. And also, because Severus could barely keep up with his wild swings between scared and meek to wilful stubbornness.

"But I can't do stuff with only my left hand."

"You seemed to manage perfectly fine at lunch and I'm sure Miss Granger would be thrilled to take notes for you."

"No, I can write with my left hand too. But how will I hide this?" Potter turned his right-hand palm up, so the awful burn scar was on full display. Severus regretted that he was entirely obvious in his haste to avert his eyes to the shadowy recesses of his bookshelves. Of course, this would be the moment the child finally pursued prolonged eye-contact; his stare burning through the curtain of eternally lank hair that had dislodged from his ear.

Severus choked, "You mean to say that you've hidden that from your friends for a month?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty good at keeping it facing down all the time and the sleeves of my robes help a lot. But I can't do everything with only one hand and they'll be awful about questions," he shrugged.

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter but this sling is part of the aforementioned non-negotiable healing."

The boy sighed but didn't protest further while he cautiously arranged the sling. Severus didn't acknowledge that his shoulders were up by his ears again or the rigidity of his posture. Potter suddenly seemed especially fragile. He blinked and reminded himself that it wasn't personal. Then he blinked again at the realisation he wished he could be an exception to that instinct. As soon as the ordeal was through, they both shuffled their chairs away and breathed in relief.

So, they could each have a few more moments to recover their composure, Severus then retrieved the broomstick that had been abandoned; propped against his desk. Although immediately obvious it was better quality than any broom in the school sheds, he was sure this particular model wasn't top of the line anymore. The polished handle and neat twigs belied its continued good condition though. He briefly wondered where Potter had gotten it from until his fingers brushed across an out of place indentation. Upon turning it over, the engraved initials made everything clear; D.L.B.

Suddenly feeling able to choose his words less carefully, he was about to explain his plan when he spotted Potter side-eyeing him in his periphery again, "I haven't changed my mind, you're still not in trouble."

He leaned back and waited somewhat more impatiently than before until the child eventually relaxed by a fraction, "I believe I am correct in saying that this broomstick is the property of Mr. Malfoy?" – he nodded nervously – "In that case you have neither stolen a school broom nor are in possession of a private one as is prohibited. Furthermore, since there is no rule against first-years actually playing Quidditch, I can see no rules that you have broken. You merely borrowed another student's illicit item which I also highly doubt was your own idea," – he ignored the boy's mouth falling open in protest – "And as Mr. Malfoy's Head of House I think an appropriate punishment for him will be to confiscate this for the rest of the school year. You may inform him of this arrangement."

"Yes Professor, thank you," he nodded fervently although the confused expression was still most prominent.

Severus paused and considered. The child would still need a broom and his current options were unacceptable. Using a school broomstick during a match would result in inevitable disaster or Minerva might suddenly lose all her usual unwavering common sense and indulge in an act of irreversible favouritism. He supposed that Slytherin could use a challenge after so long; seven years without really working for it encouraged complacency and rather made winning the championship less shiny with every season.

"I am also aware, Mr. Potter, that you need a broomstick for your team practises and the Quidditch matches. If you are agreeable, you will come here at those times to retrieve this broomstick from me to use and then immediately return it afterwards?"

"Really?" Potter's quivering seemed to finally originate in excitement and even his voice found a few extra decibels.

"I wouldn't have said so if I wasn't serious," Severus said firmly.

The child was so completely astonished that for the first time he appeared not to register the slight rebuke, "Thank you, sir!"

"You're welcome Mr. Potter. And you are dismissed so long as you take that infernal Snitch with you," he batted it away from his ear in a most undignified way.

He jumped up and balanced on his toes in the middle of the office for a moment before the Snitch zoomed back across the room. In a single leap, Potter had it clutched tightly in his left hand whereupon the whirring sounded louder and frustrated.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter…" he added as the boy was heaving the door open. When he looked back, Severus cleared his throat, "I want you to know that you can always come to me for help and I will be here for you."

"Yes, sir," the boy mumbled before he sped away and the dense oak door slammed shut with a resounding boom.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review!