Author's Notes: This was a traumatizing chapter. The words just refused to come out! *growls*  I had a most horrible time with it. But, it did, indeed, turn out to be around twice the length of the previous chapter. So, enjoy…

A Fallen Angel

By chibi_tenshi

Harry's POV (3rd person)

It had only been yesterday morning when Harry had moved into his new rooms, and he was already feeling quite at home here, despite the green and silver theme that prevailed throughout the entire area besides his bedroom. Snape had told him that he was to, under no circumstances, enter his (Snape's) private laboratory and bedroom. The first was obviously because of an inane fear that Harry may just blow something up without meaning to – a sentiment that Harry was quite inclined to agree with – and the second, because he wanted to maintain some semblance of privacy – just because he allowed Harry into his quarters does not imply that he was happy about the intrusion…or at least, that's was he had said. To Harry, this further cemented his belief that he was really just a useless burden…

Harry, of course, had followed his instructions without question, and had set about exploring the area when Snape disappeared into the laboratory muttering about some "research work". He had been expecting the place to by dark and dreary, and maybe even a little damp and mossy here and there, like the dungeons he had read about in books (A/N books, because he had never been allowed near the television, let alone the cinema). Oh, it was not all nice, warm and snug – as his rooms were – either, but it had a homey feel to it, as if the place was actually lived in – which it was, come to think of it, but Harry had always thought Snape spent more time prowling around the hallways rather than lounging in his couch.

The design was simple and elegant. The entrance itself was hidden behind a portrait, and though Harry hadn't had the chance to scrutinize it in detail (he dared not risk interrupting Snape with whatever sound the opening of the portrait might make), he was positive that the portrait depicted a majestic golden Griffin with a graceful silver Basilisk wound loosely around its neck and torso. Together, they made a stunning picture…and it probably was one of Dumbledore's attempts to promote inter-house relations.

At the wall directly West of the entrance was a built-in fireplace built out of pale gray cement with a carving of two snakes facing off each other at the top ledge. A fire was crackling merrily, though Harry could tell it was only for show, for he could feel no warmth emanating from it. After all, it was summer, and they would have suffocated in the heat if there were an actual fire kept going. As it was, there were probably quite a few cooling charms set to keep the dungeons cool through the worst of the summer heat (A/N I know exactly how unbearable summer is. It is perpetually summer here in Singapore, and the heat these days is enough for you to fry an egg on your head).

There were two shelves framing the fireplace, stretching from floor to ceiling and from the sides of the fireplace to opposite ends to the room. The one to the left contained what seemed like hundreds upon hundreds of books. Why anyone would what to place such fire hazards next to the fireplace shall remain a mystery…perhaps there were some kind of flame-repellent charms on them. The shelf on the right was covered with a glass screen. It contained potion vials, and as Harry moved in to peer at the labels, he could see that most of them were healing potions, or muscle relaxants. He had a pretty good idea why Snape would want all these kept in the living room. He would not fancy having to go all the way to the stores after a session with Voldemort. Perhaps he could manage to…borrow some of these potions without Snape noticing if he moved the vials around a bit…god knows he certainly needed them for his visions…

There was a leather sofa of deep grass green directly opposite the fireplace. A leather couch was placed at a right angle to it on the left. A coffee table, made entirely out of clear crystal sat on top of a tasteful Persian rug, sandwiched between the fireplace and the sofa. The ellipse dining table, also made of crystal, stood a few lengths behind the sofa, and six wooden chairs – complete with forest green cushions – surrounded it with mathematical precision. The door to the lab was just behind the dining table, just as the doors to the bedrooms were located opposite the couch.

Having finished his exploration, Harry sighed and slid down onto the sofa. He looked longingly at the shelf of books. He dared not touch them…some of them looked as if they would disintegrate as soon as he breathed on them, and the shelf seemed to be dominated by Dark Arts books. He would have to remember to ask Snape for permission to read them. For now, he would just sit and stare into the middle of nowhere until Snape decided reappear for lunch…

***

Snape had commented on his laziness when he found him lying half-asleep on the sofa. His exact words were, "I suppose it would be too much to hope for, to see a Gryffindor, and a Potter at that, actually find something more…educational to occupy their time with."

Harry had just looked down meekly, and asked if he could please make use of his (Snape's) books since all of his had been burnt by the Dursleys. Snape had actually blinked at that statement, having forgotten about that particular incident, and grudgingly agreed Harry's request.

***

Harry's POV (1st person)

After lunch, Snape took me aside to explain the details of the trial.

"The Dursleys' trial will take place a week from now. It would be a public one…"

I could not help but flinch at this. "A public trial?" A public trial, in front of tons of strangers, all listening in on my pathetic existence – all knowing about the abusing, the whipping, the slapping, the beating, the rape? All will be revealed to the public, things that I would rather shove into the back of my sub-conscious; things that I would rather forget; things that I do not want anyone to know! I was hyperventilating, I know, and Snape had to retrieve a calming potion to stuff down my throat.

When the potion took effect, and I had relaxed a little, he continued, "It is a public trial, because child abuse is a very serious offense in the Wizarding world. As Professor Dumbledore had said, our population has been declining, mostly because our magic has affected our ability to reproduce. The magic of the fetus often conflicts with its mother's – as no two auras are exactly alike – which causes the mother's magic to treat it as a foreign substance and try to dispel it. This had led to many miscarriages and abortions."

"But what about the Weasleys?" Curiosity ignited, I could not refrain from interrupting

"The Weasleys are really a special exception. They had a curse put on their ancestors in the early 16th century by a rival house, which made them to procreate at a near exponential rate," Snape sneered. "It may seem to be a perfect solution to our problems, but unfortunately, this curse also has a lot of side effects, the main one being that the curse cannot be undone. You have seen what too many children could do to a family's financial welfare…" Snape scowled at me for my rude disruption.

"As I was saying, the rate of successful births is very low, so wizards, especially purebloods, tend to cherish their young."

"The punishments involved range from being sent to Azkaban to being thrown into the magical forests to fend for themselves. It would depend on what was done to the child," he arched a single, elegant eyebrow, "and who was the child involved. With you being the notorious Boy-Who-Lived, the Dursleys' punishment would undoubtedly be harsh…"

I think I saw Snape's eyes glitter brightly at this, as if he would love to sit back and watch the Dursleys' suffer their fate, complete with popcorn and a bottle of pumpkin juice. I could not imagine why though. It was not as if he had anything against them. Could it be because they had abused the precious Boy-Who-Lived? But I deserved it, didn't I? The Dursleys weren't wrong for doing what they did…were they?

I watched him carefully, trying to figure out what he was thinking. His face was practically a blank mask, with only slight concern and not a little anger gracing his aristocratic features. Was he concerned for me? Was he mad at the Dursleys for treating me the way they did? I could not even begin to phantom how anyone could actually care about me, just as I could not imagine how it would be like to feel cared for. Oh, there were the Weasleys and Hermione, but I had learnt to fend for myself ever since I could remember, and could never bring myself to totally depend on others, especially people not even related to me. There was Sirius and Remus too, but they were never with me long enough for me to feel safe and protected.

How would I know whom to trust? How would I know that it would not be thrown back at my face? After all, it had happened to me before…

But Snape…Snape was…different…from others. He knew what I've been through. He understands. He was a Death Eater. He, of all people, would know how it was like to be hurt, to be shunned, to be belittled, to be betrayed

I shook myself mentally. 'Stupid fool! You should never allow yourself to hope! All your dreams had been crushed brutally into a million different pieces! What makes you think that anything would change now? Idiot! You don't deserve anything good to happen to you!'

Snape was looking at me strangely. I must have zoned out for a while. I smiled slightly at him to indicate that I was fine. He was unconvinced, but continued anyway, deciding not to pursue the matter, "Dumbledore had already recorded what you had told us at the Infirmary, but you still have to turn up for the trial, in case further questioning is needed. You would be able to invite some of your friends to the trial, to give you moral support. You could tell Dumbledore about your choices come tomorrow. We have already hired a prosecutor for you. Since the Dursleys are muggles, a wizard would act as their defendant, and as Dumbledore already had one of his supporters put in place," Snape smirked, "their chances for acquittal are near zero."

"Isn't that too harsh?" I asked worriedly.

Snape had an odd look on his face. I could not decipher what it was, but it looked vaguely like a cross between shock and disbelief. "Harsh?" he snapped. "After all they had done to you? You think that might be too harsh?"

I unwittingly cowered away at his sharp tone. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

At this, he sighed and pulled me towards him. I tried to struggle away, the memories of what being pulled towards someone when I was at the Dursleys had entailed to were overwhelming me. He merely responded by holding me loosely against his chest, petting my back lightly until I had calmed down. I thought I heard him apologize, but that might have been a delusion on my part. Snape never apologizes.

I buried my head in his chest, savoring the bit of warmth and security it brings. I should be worried that I had come to see Snape as a comforting entity. Ron would be horrified, but I was suddenly too exhausted to care.

He began speaking again. "Potter, regardless of what you may think, the Dursleys deserve every bit of torture they would suffer in the hands of our world. You may think that you deserved every bit of cruelty they had heaped on you, but no child ever should have gone through what you did, regardless of what they may have done. People were born good, Potter, just as they were born innocent. To destroy something that sacred is blasphemy. The Dursleys had committed a crime, and they would have to sow what they reap."

I frowned in his chest. It's not true, and I knew it. I had been told often enough that everything was my fault. It could not be wrong, could it? Could Snape be correct? He had never lied to me before. In fact, he was one of the few people that had ever been completely truthful with me. He might have hid things from me – things that I had never asked, or never needed to know. But all that he had told me had been true so far; could I bring myself to trust him?

God knows I want to. I want to be able to trust somebody, to completely rely on someone else for once. But did he really mean what he said? Was he helping me because he wanted to? Or was it because Dumbledore had somehow forced it upon him? Should I really allow myself to hope?

No…no, I shouldn't…not yet. I could not take yet another betrayal. I know I would shatter if I had to endure another blow. Not yet. Perhaps, in the future, when I had recovered enough. 'No, best not think about it. Remember, you never get what you wish for. All that you wanted had been taken from you. No, just don't dwell on it. Close yourself to the world. Keep up your façade. It had worked before, and it will continue to work in the future. It would hurt less that way…so much less…'

***

TBC

(2103 words)

A/N I realized I never mentioned what happened to Harry's stuff…at least, I think I didn't…can anyone please point it out to me if I did? Anyway, for the time being, they are burnt…I'll change the earlier chapters later, once I finish this fic…

Me – Sorry, but I love yaoi fics…the only non-yaoi one I'd written was for a school competition, and that was only because slash was forbidden. :P (irritating homphobes *mutters angrily*) Anyway, there are plenty of nice Snape-Harry mentor fics out there…read those! This shall remain as it was…I had made up my mind about the pairing since before I had written this fic, and I am not about to change it…(did I really make him sound like Harry's father? Well damn, bugger and darn it. I shall see what I can do about that…)

Xikum – Interesting idea…I might just use it…you don't mind, do you? *sheepish grin*

To all other reviewers…thank you for the reviews! And I'm glad you all seem to like that room! I love it too. (Mummy! Can I have that room please?) Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter too! REVIEW please!