A/N: Welcome. Feel free to comment or post whenever. I really hope I corrected all mistakes - I act as my own beta here, lol. Also note that I may take a while to post up chapters as I am busy with my education among other things. I will write and publish as quickly as I can, and hope not to leave you all on edge with this story, as I have done with others. I apologise. Hope you like ;)

Warning: There are various graphic scenes of violence, abuse, self-harm and some corporeal punishment throughout this story. If these are in any way sensitive to you, which is completely understandable, please don't read. Otherwise, enjoy :)

PS: Mind the chapter titles, I am still thinking them over, so for now they will be long and random XD

Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own this wonderful fandom along with its characters. No, that all goes to the miraculous J.K. Rowling! I just own the storyline, which I hope enlightens you.

Chapter One

Deep Crimson on Snow-white Feathers

~SS~

Before yet another school year ended, Severus headed to Headmaster Dumbledore's office who requested him for a few last words. All of the staff already had a school meeting earlier in the day, so he didn't know what the old man wanted to discuss. Perhaps it was a private matter.

Before he knocked on the door, he could hear two voices inside. One was soft - Dumbledore's - while the other was rather heated. He knocked twice, and the conversation halted abruptly.

'Come in,' Albus summoned.

Severus walked in and found the Potter brat standing in front of the Headmaster's desk, looking quite irate. Severus glared at him as he walked in, who glared right back. He was obviously annoyed he had been interrupted.

'You called for me, Albus?'

'Ah, yes, Severus, have a seat,' the old wizard in his ornate chair behind the large desk said. Severus bid as offered, waiting for the man to speak. 'Harry, my boy, I apologise again for the inconvenience. I wish there to be another way, but the blood wards are there to protect - '

'Protect me?' Potter shouted, furious. 'It doesn't matter about the stupid blood wards! I-I don't care about them!' He looked down and mumbled, 'They do nothing,' so quietly that Severus didn't think the old man heard.

'Now, Harry, calm down. I must speak with Severus about a private matter. I can discuss this no longer with you. I am sorry, but the answer is no - I cannot do anything else. You must go back -'

'I hate them! I don't want to go! Can't you see that?'

Severus sneered at the boy. 'That is the second time you have interrupted the Headmaster, Mr Potter. I suggest you contain your temper and do as you are told. Perhaps over the summer you can practice following orders. I am positive you need it.'

The Potter boy gritted his teeth and went to say something, but Dumbledore cut in.

'Now, Severus, I am sure Harry here understands what has to be done. He will follow.' Albus looked over his half-moon spectacles at Potter to make sure he followed through, who did not only look angry, but scared.

Why would the brat, the so-called "Golden Boy," be worried about going home? Severus thought, his relatives obviously love him and wish to spoil him with lots of things when he returns. He should be excited, not scared. Severus sneered internally. That boy really needed to learn his manners, too.

What he thought of backfired as Potter said, 'Please, sir. I'll do anything. Just please don't send me back.' His voice had calmed somewhat considerably and he was begging. What could be so dramatic at home that the pampered prince wanted to go somewhere else? Perhaps his relatives spoiled him too much and he wanted a break from it.

Yeah, right, Severus snorted. Not for the attention-seeking brat.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. 'I'm sorry, dear boy. For the last time, I have to send you back. I know you do not like them, but it is the only way to keep you safe from Voldemort.'

Potter opened his mouth to say something but closed it again. He repeated this a few more times, unsure of what to say, looking very much like a fish. With Dumdledore's last words to him, he made a sound akin to a growl, turned and stalked out of the office. Surprisingly, he closed the door behind him gently.

There was a moment of silence after the Gryffindor brat left and Dumbledore sighed, finally seeking the matter with Severus at hand. Firstly he offered him a lemon drop, which Severus blatantly declined, and Albus told him of why he drew the man into his office. Turned out that he just wanted him to make a few more potions for Poppy as she had been low on stock, and to have them ready for when the next school year started. He also mentioned checking on the Gryffindor boy once in a while at the Dursley's, to see how he was coping.

'You want me to do what?' Severus cried.

Albus sighed. 'It is just a couple of times over the holidays, to make sure he is safe from Voldemort and his followers. Now I know he isn't alive, but he could rise at any moment and it's best we proceed with caution.' Severus rolled his eyes and huffed. Albus ignored his reaction and continued. 'However, you may see him after perhaps about a week? Just so you are both settled in at home for the holidays, to have a break from school and work.'

Severus grumbled. 'Do I have to? Why can't you do it?'

'That is the matter I wished to discuss. I am leaving for some time to immerse in some private business. I won't be back until possibly the end of the holidays, close to when school starts back for a new year.'

'Fine. What about Professor McGonagall then? She's the boy's Head of House. Why can't she take the matter into her own hands?'

Again, Albus let his impolite tone slide and said, 'She will also be dealing with her own matters this summer. She is visiting family and will be busy for quite some time, as well. I can trust no one better than yourself, my dear boy, for you to check on Harry.'

Severus huffed. 'You know I dislike the boy. Why make me do it?'

The old man shot him an accusing eye. 'Now, Severus. You dislike his father, and that is perfectly reasonable. Harry's appearance is just close to that of James. He is quite different on the inside, if you were too closely.'

'His attitude surely isn't,' said Severus, rolling his eyes. 'He needs to learn some manners.'

He chuckled. 'I assure you that he is a bright boy. He has his manners...his temper just gets the better of him sometimes.' Albus assessed him for a moment, eyes doing that irritating twinkling again. 'As I said before, it's only twice this summer. Then you may go back to Prince Manor and enjoy your holidays.'

~OoOoOoO~

It was the seventh day of the holidays when Severus bottled up his final potion for Madam Pomphrey and stored it on the shelf with the others. He was feeling happy with himself to have made some progress. Studying the vials that had recently collected on the shelf, he made a few vials of Dreamless Sleep, Pepper-up and potions that reduced pain. Poppy would be pleased.

Casting a quick tempus, he sighed. It was nearing seven o'clock at night. Grudgingly, Severus packed away his potion ingredients and washed up before heading upstairs to see what his house elves had prepared for dinner that night. It was silent as he ate, for being the only one living at his home other than house elves, but it wasn't peaceful. He had promised Albus he would visit the Potter boy this week, and it was nearing the end. Unwilling as he was about the matter he should check on him sooner than later. Get it over and done with.

Scowling at the thought of having to do it this late, or at all, he finished his dinner and watched as Rhysand, his oldest elf, cleared up the dishes. He trusted Rhys with his life. The three house elves he had were the best, the other two being Folky and Starr, but Rhys had been with him the longest, since he was a child. Although he had to obey his main Master, which was Severus's grandfather on his mother's side, he did everything he could to make sure he and his mother were safe and unharmed. Severus's grandfather wasn't a very nice man, along with his father who, although he could never see house elves or have order over them, Severus's grandfather let his father have permission to order Rhysand around. As soon as both his grandfather and father died, and Severus became Rhysand's master, he set him free. All of his house elves were free, but they all chose to stay with him and help him when he needed it.

He liked them there. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he sometimes felt bursts of loneliness, and so his elves liked to keep him company. The house elves knew Severus wasn't a man who really liked hanging out with people and so they left him alone whenever they sensed he needed it. Silence was something he cherished and the serenity it brought with it. Potions were brewed a lot more carefully with the silence.

As it ticked to fifteen past seven, Severus sighed and apparated to Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. He walked along the street, with its house's interiors exactly identical, even the cars matching. It set the mood of plain and casual, and he guessed that the people living in these houses were a bit of perfectionists. How tedious.

He found number 4 a moment later and saw the flashing lights of the TV playing through the living room window. Casting Muffliato and a glamour spell around him so he wouldn't be heard or seen, he entered through the front door, careful not to make too much noise. He didn't need to bother, though, for his charms were working, and the three Muggles sitting on the couch were engrossed in the television, laughing.

Petunia looked the same as always, only older and with more of a stern edge to her features than Severus remembered. She was tall, slim with a very long neck and had short, curly dark hair. Beside her sat her husband, a large blonde-haired beefy man with little to no neck at all. Severus was immediately reminded of a walrus, only pink. On the chair beside the couch sat their son, looking very much like a copy of his father, only thirteen years of age. But where was the Potter boy?

Probably upstairs, too busy with his possessions than to spend time with his family, he thought. He is ungrateful enough at school, he is probably even worse at home.

Why on earth would the boy be angry at Dumbledore to return home, though? Severus was quite puzzled by that. It was a very neat looking home, but much too proper and original for Severus's liking. It was dull, along with the other houses in the neighbourhood, each one an exact replica. The only difference was the cars. However, number 4 seemed well-looked after, and the family in the lounge room looked to be happy. Why had the spoilt brat argued not to go here?

Grumbling, he trudged up the stairs to find a few rooms. He opened each to find the bathroom, the main bedroom, a guest room, and a room that looked to be owned by the large boy sitting on the couch downstairs - it was covered in all sorts of knick knacks and things. Of course he was also a spoilt brat.

Before he opened what he was certain was Potter's bedroom, he heard a strange whimpering and sobbing. The boy was crying. Why? He had everything he needed here, a home and a family. Probably a hundred toys, too, just like his cousin. What was the brat complaining about?

Severus never would have thought in a million years he would witness what he did when he opened that door that very night. The first emotion that went through him was confusion. Shock followed, then concern and anger was the ending focus. He was livid, and for the first time in forever, it was not at the Potter boy.

What in the world happened here? was Severus's first thought. Then as he focused on the Gryffindor boy, he was filled with a moment of uncertainty of what to do.

Harry Potter was sitting on the ground by the far wall of his bedroom, which wasn't much. He had a bed with dirty sheets that looked to have not been washed in months, years even. A frame of his parents and a broken lamp sat on his bedside table. A small desk that was chipped and in need of a good paint-job rested against a wall, and a wardrobe with its door partially off its hinges stood beside the bedroom door. There were no toys, and no other possessions in his room beside the picture of his parents, and a snowy white owl in a cage on the boy's desk. It had a Muggle padlock on it, where the owl was trying to peck at it to unlock it, possibly so it could get to the distraught boy.

After a quick glance around the boy's room, he focused on the matter at hand. Potter was crouched down, his knees brought up to his chest, sobbing and rocking back and forth. It wasn't just an emotional crying, it was out of extreme pain and fright. Potter was covered in marks and bruises, some that were shockingly nasty and were dripping blood. The boy was wearing an oversized t-shirt and pants, both which were holey, and far too big for the slim boy. He guessed they were his cousin's old ones.

My, the boy is slim. From the boy's t-shirt being ripped slightly, he could see the boy's ribs. He looked severely malnourished, to have not eaten in days. To have been starved. His ankle looked to be twisted and swollen, suggesting a broken bone.

What in Merlin's name did those filthy Muggles do to this poor child?

Severus was mystified beyond belief. For almost fourteen years, the boy had been suffering. He had begged Dumbledore not to go back, and now Severus knew the reason why. The poor boy didn't just dislike them. He truly hated them, was frightened of them, and for good reason. When he was asking Albus not to go back, he looked scared out of his wits when the old man said no.

Now that Severus knew why, he was angry that the man hadn't seen how truly scared the boy was, and how he had forced the boy to go back to the one place he didn't feel safe, or loved. As he thought about his anger towards the man, he realised it was targeted more so at himself. He had treated this boy terribly over the past three years, and he in no way deserved that animosity he laid on him. Of course, most of the animosity he felt towards him was all an act, so all the children of the Death Eaters didn't pick up that he liked Potter. Otherwise, when the Dark Lord returned, he would either have to hand over the boy or be caught as a spy for the light.

However, the hatred he had geared towards the boy had been somewhat filled by the hostility he felt for James Potter. Severus had mistaken the boy for his father, as he believed that his personality matched that of Potter's, not just his appearance. But here, he could see none of the Potter brat that bullied him all those years ago. He didn't see Lily, either, though there was more Lily in him than James. He saw a small, scared teenage boy. He saw a boy in need of help, comfort and love.

Oh, what have I done? Lily, I have failed you...

Slowly, Severus walked over to the boy and knelt down to his height. He gently laid his hand on the boy's shoulder so the boy would be aware of his presence. The boy snapped his head up, eyes wide and full of tears.

'N-no, please, Uncle, no m-more…' the boy said weakly through his tears, struggling to breathe. His frame visibly shook, matching his voice, and he was cringing away from Severus, as if afraid of him. Probably sees me as that damned Muggle. 'P-Please, I'm sorry, I won't do it ag-again. Please, I-I'm sorry!'

Witnessing how scared the boy was tore at Severus's heart and made him remember when he was in Potter's place as a child. Except, he had never been as horrendously beaten up like Potter was now. To think that a Muggle did this.

'Shh,' Severus calmed him. 'Potter...Harry, it's Professor Snape. I am here to help you.'

The boy calmed down a little at that, blinked and looked up at him in mild confusion, squinting his eyes. 'Snape?'

Now wasn't the time to correct the boy, so he let it slide. It was only vital that he knew who Severus was. 'Yes. Why don't you stand up? I'd like to look over your wounds...to see what I can do to heal them.'

Still in his frightened and vulnerable state, Harry just stared at him, unsure. Of course he would be. If the boy didn't trust the Muggles here, where two were adults, then it was clear he wouldn't trust another adult, at least not in the same setting. At Hogwarts, Severus presumed that was a different matter entirely, seeing as the boy knew he could feel safe in the castle. He must be very confused as to why he was even here in the first place, Severus of all people. Hopefully, Harry knew that Severus could be trusted - he was a teacher who had saved his life countless times after all.

'Harry, you must be in pain. As strange as it may sound, I'd like to help you.' Still, the boy just stared at him. It was abnormal to call the young teenager by his first name, but he put up with it, knowing it would be much easier getting Harry to comply with him if he was at least polite or even mildly friendly in his approach. However, he found that he wanted to ensure he was positive around the boy so as to not frighten him further, appearing much like an injured and frightened animal, and genuinely wanted to help him. 'You need treatment before those wounds get infected. Please. Let me help you.' Severus held out a hand for Harry to take to help him stand. Sniffling, he nodded slightly and took it. Severus helped him up who winced. 'Be careful now, your ankle looks broken.'

Harry nodded as he stood, hesitantly putting weight on his swollen left foot and putting most of the weight on his right foot that was in perfect condition.

'Why are you here?' he finally said.

'Dumbledore asked for me to check up on you. I am very glad I did before matters got worse.'

The boy stared into space for a moment and seemed to realise something else.

'You called me Harry.' His voice was raspy, possibly from all that crying and screaming.

'Yes, I did.' Severus looked at him sadly as he took in the rest of his injuries. His entire back was covered in welts and even more bruises than the rest of his body. The blood soaked through the boy's ripped shirt that was barely hanging on him. 'Harry...Merlin, I'm sorry. For three years I have wronged you, and greatly. I don't know what to say to make you understand that how I treated you was unjust. Truthfully, I've never hated you - it was all an act so Voldemort wouldn't find out. But the dislike was evident, I have to admit. I saw you for your father, and for that, I am sorry.' Harry snorted. 'I am serious. I am a man of my words. I just didn't know you or get the time to know you as I was seeing too much of your father in you. But now I can see that you are nothing like him.'

Harry was confused. 'Really?'

Severus nodded and sighed. 'Harry, I must treat your ankle. I am not as good at fixing bones as Poppy, but I have had some practice and the break is small.' He pulled his wand out, pointing it at the boy's left foot and looked up at him. 'This may hurt a little so be prepared. May I?'

Harry only nodded. With a muttered spell and a wave of his wand, Severus quickly healed it, hearing the boy wince and squeeze his eyes tightly shut. Exhaling a breath, he opened them again and looked at Severus. A slight smile reached the corner of his mouth as he tested out his foot, putting more weight on it. 'Thank you.'

'Child, we must get you to safety, where I can treat the rest of those wounds. I am sure you are bound to need rest.' He looked around the room, wondering where all of the boy's things were. 'Harry, where are all of your school supplies?'

Harry looked down and sniffed. 'In the cupboard under the stairs. B-but they've locked it.'

Severus frowned. Did the boy forget they were wizards or something? Those Muggles may have taken Harry's wand, but Severus still had his. 'No worries, Mr Potter. I can spell it unlocked.'

Harry seemed to be aware of what they were, too. 'Oh.' Harry wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school, but that didn't apply to Severus.

'Grab your owl, and anything else you want from here, then follow me downstairs.'

Harry nodded. 'Sir, how did you get here?'

The boy must have been through a great deal to forget quite a lot of the wizarding world. 'By apparating.'

'Oh. Right.' The boy looked down, nibbling on his bottom lip. 'Sir, I don't want to go down.'

'Whyever not?' Severus wondered, noticing how worried Harry looked.

'B-because they'll punish me for being out of my room. I was told to stay here. I-I can't come out.' Harry looked positively frightened in that moment that it clutched at Severus's cold heart.

'Harry, you won't be, not while I am here.' Firm in that regard, he gently placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, shocking both of them, and peered seriously at the boy. 'What those Muggles did to you, child, is in no way acceptable. They have broken the law by physically and emotionally abusing and neglecting a child. Whatever you may think, you have done nothing wrong. I repeat, nothing. I won't let them hurt you, okay? Now, come along.'

Once Harry had collected his things - jacket, owl and the picture and photo album on his bedside table, he walked out. Severus climbed down the stairs but Harry stopped at the top of them. Another tear fell down his face. Evidently, he was afraid.

'Harry, I promise you that they won't hear us. And even if they do, I won't let them hurt you. Never again.'

After a moment, Harry nodded and followed him to the cupboard. Severus pointed his wand at the cupboard door and said, 'Alohomora.' It unlocked and Severus blanched at the sight of the cupboard. Inside was not only a trunk and casual cupboard items but an old mattress as a makeshift bed, as if someone had slept there.

No, surely not…

He glanced at the boy, who was looking down at his feet, his cheeks tinged red in embarrassment. Tears still streamed down his face. He could see the boy was avoiding looking at him straight in the eye and he was having trouble containing his tears. Severus decided that the boy was in too much of an emotional and painful state to answer such questions Severus had on his mind.

Without a word, he pulled out Harry's trunk, with his things inside. The chest made a clunk as it came out of the cupboard and suddenly a beefy man appeared around the corner from the living room, alerted by the noise.

'BOY!' Vernon Dursley bellowed. Harry perceptibly cowered in fear. 'What do you think you're doing? Trying to escape, I see!'

Shit, Severus cursed inwardly. He had put a glamour spell on himself but not on Harry. Cursing his thoughtlessness, it was too late to put one on the boy now, for he had already been seen, so he took off his own to get the boy out of trouble.

Before the man could attack Harry or lay a hand on him, Severus's glamour spell dispersed and Vernon jumped back in surprise. Shock and anger were written on the man's chubby red face.

'Who are you?! What are you doing in my house? Get out!'

Severus, however, did nothing of the kind.

Vernon huffed. 'You're one of them, aren't you? His kind.' He jabbed his finger at Harry and then growled at him. 'WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT BRINGING FREAKS LIKE YOU INTO THE HOUSE? TELL ME, BOY!'

Harry whimpered and flattened himself against the wall. Severus saw red. How dare he talk to Harry that way. He whirled on the man and pointed his wand down at him. Severus was taller than the man, so it helped to intimidate him.

'If you lay another finger on Harry, I will use my wand on you,' Severus sneered. 'Unlike Harry, I am not underage, therefore I will not hesitate. You do not want to see me angrier than I already am, so I suggest you step far away from the boy. Or I promise you that you will be in excruciating pain. Move.'

Gulping, the man moved away from Harry, eyes focused on the wand aimed at his face. Just then, Petunia and Dudley came around the corner. The boy screamed in fright and cowered behind his mother and father when he spotted Severus and he grinned internally. Yes, he should be scared of him.

'You!' Petunia snarled.

'You know him?' Vernon asked her, looking taken aback.

She seemed a little intimidated by her husband's gaze, but turned back to glaring at Severus. 'He used to hang around my sister. A freak, he is, just like Lily. Always in everyone's business.'

Severus snorted. 'I am sure you have that the wrong way around, Petunia. Now, I am leaving and I am taking the boy with me. So, if you would kindly step aside, we shall take our leave.'

'You can't take him!' Petunia argued. 'We need him.'

'I will not let you take him!' Vernon shouted at him, appearing to look threatening. 'He will not be going back to that bloody school again! Ever! Your lot is only trouble, and we will have none of it in our house anymore!'

'Need him?' Severus sneered. 'Need him for what? Completing all of the chores you lazy lot can't bother doing? So you can order him around and degrade and punish him even more?' On the embarrassed faces of the couple, he chuckled menacingly. 'If you think so, you are quite mistaken. Harry will never experience that ever again and I shall make sure of it! You Muggles are a nasty bunch, that deserve nothing more than living in a dark cell with no food, water or any kind of luxury until the day you die.'

'The boy deserves everything he gets,' Petunia snarled. 'We gave him everything! A home, food off of our table and even poor Dudley's second bedroom!'

Poor Dudley? These Muggles are mental. That overweight kid is in no way poor. Not one, but two bedrooms, all to himself? While Harry had to live in a tiny cupboard? Get real!

'You have no right to say what a child does and does not deserve. You don't even know what caring for a child is.'

Vernon scoffed. 'Oh yes, we do. Look at Dudley - he turned out marvellous.' He stabbed a stubby finger at Harry and said, 'That boy there deserves nothing because he is a freak! We had no part in that - no, he turned out like that himself and because of his drunken parents.'

A growl escaped him. 'Never speak of him or his parents in that way - they were good people and were not alcoholics! Nor were they freaks.'

Another snort from the pig. 'You have no say in how we treat the boy - we know what we're doing!'

'Like hell, you do!' Severus hissed. 'Letting a child sleep in a cupboard while your son has two bedrooms. Not only that, you have starved the boy! He is practically skin and bones! Might I add that you have punished him much too harshly. No child should have to endure that kind of punishment. Ever! It was more than punishment, it was utter torture. You are despicable, disgusting creatures that deserve nothing more than to be locked up.'

'Get out! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!' Vernon shouted, face even redder than before. He wasn't just angry, but scared as anything of Severus. As he very well should be! Severus had the thought to kill them right then.

Although he wanted so badly to cause these vile creatures endless pain and suffering, he had to get the boy away from them and so he could treat his injuries. They needed attending to as soon as possible. Making sure that everything was in Harry's trunk, he took the photo frame and album from his hands and placed them inside, while encouraging Harry to put on his would be cold outside. Once he had obeyed, Severus shrunk his trunk and popped it into his pocket, then took Harry's owl - Hedwig, was it? - from his hand so he didn't have to worry about carrying anything with all those injuries.

With a glare from Severus that looked as if it could kill, Harry's relatives finally stepped aside to let them past and out the front door. Without a glance back, and trying to rein in his temper so he wouldn't go back, Severus slammed the door shut behind them - more harshly than was necessary - and walked them over to the road. He told the boy to stay still for a moment and grasped his hand before apparating before Hogwarts grounds. At that moment, he wished he was the headmaster and had the ability to apparate on the grounds or inside the castle.

They walked slowly to the castle, Severus matching Harry's pace as he followed him down to the dungeons. Severus didn't get angry or blame him throughout the walk. The boy was obviously sore and tired. Physically and emotionally drained. He had to be mentally-wise as well. What those Muggles did to him… Severus couldn't fathom. The state Harry was in, and the treatment he had experienced in his entire life, was worse than what Severus's father ever did to him and his mother.

Suddenly, as he glanced back, he realised that Harry was more than a few paces behind him and was walking even slower than before. He was stumbling, too, and suddenly he sank to his knees, then fell on his side, his body giving up. The boy groaned in his effort to stand back up, but his arms quivered and collapsed. Severus raced over to him to notice that he had fallen unconscious. He scanned the boy and cursed when he felt a bump on the boy's head. Blood appeared on his fingers when he pulled away. A possible concussion was imminent. How severe, he couldn't determine, but he hoped it was mild.

Being careful, he picked the boy up in his arms, using a levitating spell on his owl cage, and raced the rest of the way. Once in the dungeons, Severus muttered the password to his private quarters and laid the boy down on a bed in one of the guest rooms. He placed the owl on the dresser in the bedroom and spelled the lock open, so the bird was able to come out. With no further ado, he rushed into his potions lab to gather the potions he needed to heal the boy. He didn't want the boy to go into a coma, either, as he had clearly been hit in the head and it would not help matters if the boy ended up brain dead. For some strange reason, it filled him with dread - he decided not to think about it.

With everything he needed, he came back and placed them on the bedside table. With mild shock, he noticed Harry's owl sitting on the bed, rubbing her face against his cheek gently. She was bleeding slightly and her left wing appeared to be broken. The owl must have endured quite some torture as well. Being locked in a cage without freedom to fly around and hunt for food, and to watch her owner, Harry, nearly being beaten and starved to death was certainly a lot to experience. It looked like the bird really cared for him, as she glanced over at Severus. In her eyes, he could see that she was allowing him permission to do whatever it took to heal the boy. She hopped onto the dresser, watching from her position. Severus was surprised the bird wasn't screeching in pain - she was a tough one.

Wincing, he focused on the boy. He would mend the broken bird's wing later.

Unfortunately, he couldn't very well give the boy potions while he was unconscious, as he could choke on the liquid or it would go into his lungs. He would have to try to wake the boy up as he couldn't risk the boy slipping into a coma. He shook the boy's shoulder gently, but hard enough it would rouse him.

'Harry,' Severus called. 'Harry, wake up. You need to wake up.'

OoOoOoO

~HP~

Slowly, Harry could feel himself rising from the fog of darkness he was dragged into. He was confused by the voice that was calling him, waking him from his perfectly good nap. Oh no, is Uncle Vernon back?

He couldn't take another beating! He was much too sore and weak.

Please, please no.

~Flashback~

Earlier that evening, he was making dinner when Uncle Vernon had ordered him to do something. He couldn't very well leave the dinner unattended without it burning, so he talked back to him. Something he should never do.

His Uncle whacked him on the head with his fist. 'Boy, if I give you an order, you should very well do it! Now, take out the bloody bins!'

Ow… He rubbed his head and said, 'I'm sorry, Uncle, I'll go do it now.'

'Good.'

Harry sadly looked at the dinner that was sure to burn. So it wouldn't, he took it off the heat and took out the rubbish. When he came back in, after he washed his hands, Aunt Petunia glared at him.

'Why isn't the dinner ready, boy?' she snapped. 'We told you to have it ready by six, it is now five past!'

'I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia, but I had to take -'

'Don't you talk back to her like that!' Vernon growled, grasping Harry's hair and yanking it. Harry winced, but didn't let them see he was in pain. He was going to be in a world of it later, so there was no point showing it now. 'Get your arse in your room, freak, and wait for your punishment. No dinner for you tonight, boy.'

Harry's heart sank. He didn't know how much longer he could go without proper food and meal times. He had missed so many. However, it was the least of his concerns right now.

With that, Vernon shoved Harry into the wall by the bottom of the stairs, and left him there, walking away to eat dinner. Shaking in fear for what was to come, Harry raced back up the stairs.

~End of flashback~

In his haze, the memory came back to him in flashes, and he whimpered at the mere pain and fear it brought. He wasn't up for anymore, he just wanted to sleep. Due to his constant nightmares, he hadn't received any good sleep in ages. His entire body was aching and stinging with pain and exhaustion. His head pounded, threatening to blow up with the excruciating pain. If he had to experience another belting, he would surely die.

'Please, Uncle, I'm sorry,' Harry begged. 'I won't do it again, I promise.'

However, the voice that called him was soft, and nothing like his uncle's. 'Harry, shh, it's okay. I am not your uncle, I am Professor Snape. I took you away from them, remember? You're safe, child.'

Suddenly, the rest of the night came rushing back to him. He remembered everything now, despite his hit to the head probably hard enough to cause a concussion. But why would Snape, of all people, save him? And now he was talking to Harry as if he cared. It didn't make any sense.

'Snape? Why...why are you here?' Harry mumbled, opening his eyes and immediately taking in his surroundings.

The room he was in he had never seen before, lying on a bed that had dark green mattresses. A bedside table was beside him and next to that, against the wall, was a dresser with Hedwig perched on it. She was looking down at him with a sincere expression. He knew it wasn't pity, for she had suffered almost as much as he had. She was concerned and understanding of him. The only one that Harry knew truly understood and loved him for who he was. Who knew what he had been through, for she had witnessed it with her own eyes, and experienced some of her own pain by the same hands that caused Harry's.

'W-where am I?' He found his throat was very sore, probably from all the screaming, and parched. It caused his voice to be raspy. He felt very dizzy, disoriented and his pounding headache was causing his stomach to turn. He groaned.

'It's okay, Harry,' said Professor Snape. He was holding a glass of water in front of him. "Here, sit up a bit and take a sip. You need it.'

Harry did as he was bid, enjoying the cool refreshness the water brought to his throat.

'Careful now, take small sips,' his professor instructed. 'That's it.'

When he gave the glass back to Snape, he repeated his question again, looking at him warily.

'I am here because I live here,' he replied. 'When I am teaching, anyway. We are at Hogwarts, in my private chambers. I rescued you from the Dursleys.' Harry noted how the man snarled their name, but he was very gentle as he spoke to Harry. Oh, how things had turned.

As he assessed his teacher, he frowned at how...concerned and soft the man seemed, in his actions and his speech. Before, Harry had never seen anything but a scowl or a smug look on his face whenever he encountered the man.

Exactly how hard did I hit my head?

'Harry,' said Snape with a sigh. 'I know how confused you must be. I have explained it once, and I will do so again, however many times it takes for you to trust me again. I am deeply sorry for how I have treated you over the past few years. I have no excuse, - except for the acting part - but I held onto my hatred for your father. Your appearance and demeanor is a lot like his, but that is in no way an excuse for my actions, and for that I am sorry. Furthermore, what those Muggles did to you is in no way, shape or form, acceptable. I wish you did not have to experience that, child.'

Harry wasn't sure what to say. Only that he knew he did deserve all of those punishments handed out by his relatives. He didn't voice his thoughts. He was in too much pain and was far too tired to do so.

'I shall go into more detail later,' said Snape in finality. Perhaps he saw how exhausted Harry was. 'For now, I want you to have this.' He handed Harry a potion and he stared at it for a moment before drinking it. He didn't believe his professor would poison him, especially after going through the effort to save him from his relatives, but even if he was poisoned, he didn't care. He was in so much pain that he didn't care if he died now.

Snape seemed shocked that he would take it straight away without hesitating, or asking what it was, but he didn't ask why. Harry was surprised himself when his pain reduced, everywhere in his body. His head was no longer throbbing so much, and his body's aching decreased. He sighed in relief to find he had drank a potion to reduce his pain.

'Thanks.'

Snape handed him another. 'This will heal some of your wounds, and help to heal the deeper ones, but it won't heal them all. Unfortunately, you will be confined to this bed for a week at most and will not be allowed to move much for your healing to progress. Do you mind if I clean your wounds? I will have to take off your clothing to tend them all, but you may leave your boxers on.'

Harry drank his potion, and although blushing, nodded. Snape got to work, removing him off his attire with a flick of his wand, minus his undergarments and began healing his legs, arms and torso. The cream he rubbed into Harry's wounds and bruises made them feel slightly better already, and relaxed him. On the deeper wounds, Snape bandaged them up.

'Now, time to do your back, child,' said Snape. 'I promise to be gentle.' Harry rolled over and the Potions Master assisted him, being extra mindful of his wounds. He heard his teacher hiss as his eyes travelled over Harry's back, and Harry flushed in shame. Snape seemed to pick up on it, for he said, 'Harry, please do not be ashamed of this. It isn't your fault. You did absolutely nothing wrong. Your relatives punished you too harshly, and you have nothing to be sorry for.'

With that, Snape continued to dab his wounds to soak up the blood and to clean them with some gauze. He ever so softly rubbed healing ointment over each one, taking his time. He paused for a moment whenever Harry hissed or whimpered at a very deep cut.

Suddenly Snape stopped and Harry grew wary. He sighed. 'Harry, I apologise, but I am going to have to lower your undergarments to heal the rest...your flesh is pretty torn there as well. May I?'

Harry flushed. He didn't want his professor to gawk at his arse, was the man crazy? Harry shook his head frantically.

'Harry, please,' Snape coerced. 'I do not intend to do anything other than heal you. I promise. I have done this to other students before, in need of my help. Please let me help you.'

After a time of thinking about it, Harry sighed and pulled his pants down. Better get this over with.

'Thank you, Harry,' said Snape. 'I know that must have been hard.'

It was, to let a teacher, specifically your least favourite, to check your arse out, even if he was only healing it. It was so strange how Snape was acting. It baffled him to no end. As Snape continued, Harry winced in pain and wriggled, trying to move away from the stinging.

'Hang in there, Harry, I'm almost done,' Snape said in a gentle tone. It sounded strange to Harry's ears. He was so used to him yelling or snarling at him. 'You're doing really well.'

Harry's heart jolted at the praise and he flinched. He had never heard anyone say that before. Not even his friends and teachers at Hogwarts. It was ironic for Snape, who hated him, to be the one to say it first. Perhaps he was lying?

'What's the matter, child?' Snape asked. He had halted his ministrations when Harry had jumped. 'Did I hurt you?'

'N-no, sir.' Harry was shocked to find a tear roll down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, hoping to hide his emotion, but it was in his voice.

'Oh, Harry, are you still in pain? Did I do something wrong?'

'No, Professor,' he said, sniffing. 'I've just never had anyone say that to me before. That...that I'm doing well. In anything.'

'Dear child.' Snape sounded as if what Harry said affected him. He finished placing the last bandage on Harry's back and buttocks, covering his lashes and pulled up his boxers. He then turned Harry back around, getting him to rest against the pillows propped up against the bedhead. 'I wish you had people say it all the time, when you do something good. Because you deserve it.'

Harry shook his head and looked down. 'No. I don't deserve it.'

'Harry, yes, you do - '

'You don't understand!' Harry nearly shouted. The tears that had filled in his eyes brimmed over. 'I don't deserve anything good. I deserve to be hurt because I am nothing but a freak.'

Snape frowned. 'No, Harry, no.' He reached out a tentative hand and wiped away his tears. 'Dear child, you do not deserve to be hurt, not at all. You have been terribly brainwashed by your relatives into thinking that you have to, but I repeat, you do not deserve to be hurt. Despite what you may think, I do understand. I knew of a child your age who experienced the same upbringing.'

Harry blinked in shock. 'You did? So...I'm not the only one?'

'Oh, child, of course not. However, no child should ever have to go through that. You were very young when this started, correct?'

Harry didn't want to say anything. He couldn't bring himself to. It seemed his silence was answer enough, for his teacher nodded in understanding. Strangely, his Potions Professor looked at him not in pity as his friends and other people did, but as if he really did understand and cared. Maybe he did understand, but Harry doubted he cared. He hated him.

'Harry, please do not think you deserve one second of that. You are not a freak. If anything, those wretched Muggles are,' he said, sneering on the words "wretched Muggles."

'I am a freak. And freaks deserve punishment.'

'No, you are not a freak, Harry!' Snape snapped. 'You are a child that deserves to be treated with respect, not with abuse or neglect.'

Harry was crying again, and was now a little angry. 'Why do you care? Why are you being so nice to me? You hate me!' he shouted through his tears. He was embarrassed to be crying in front of his teacher, his most hated one, no less, but he couldn't stop the torrent that flowed endlessly from his eyes. 'Everyone does,' he added, looking down.

His teacher sighed. 'Harry. Look at me, Harry.' Harry looked up. 'I do not hate you. I have never hated you, but I understand why you would think so. I only ever disliked you because I saw you as a spitting image of your father, not only for your appearance but for your attitude. I was blinded by my strong dislike of your father, and for that, I am sorry.'

'Why do you dislike my father so much, anyway?'

Snape hesitated for a moment before saying, 'We were in the same year at Hogwarts together, and didn't get along well. I will not share any more information at this time, as it isn't something I wish to remember, but I will leave it to say that he wasn't on first-name basis with me.'

Harry nodded in understanding, although still deeply curious as to what happened between them. He doubted it, but perhaps he would get to find out one day, if his teacher was ever willing to share.

'And Harry,' Snape continued, placing a hand on his shoulder. 'No one hates you. There are people that dislike you, I would say, but never hate. The only people who I think would hate you are Voldemort and his followers, but they hate everyone.' He smiled slightly at that and Harry couldn't help but be shocked by it. He never saw his teacher smile. At least, not in a genuine way. 'What about your friends and other teachers? They adore you.'

'Yeah, but most like me for Harry Potter, "The Boy-Who-lived" or "The Chosen One." Nobody likes me for me, for just Harry.'

Snape sighed and glanced over at Harry's owl. 'Hedwig loves you for you. And I am positive Mr Weasley and Miss Granger do as well.'

Harry sighed and winced when he moved.

Snape stood at that. 'You should get some rest, Harry. You are in great need for it. Your body will heal a lot quicker if you do.'

'Okay, sir.' He watched as his teacher went to walk out the door. 'Sir?' Snape turned around. 'Thank you. For everything. You didn't have to, but you did.'

Snape smiled at him. 'I wouldn't have left you like that. Sleep, Harry.' He closed the door as Harry lay his head down, thinking over the bizarre evening, and falling into a deep sleep.