A/N: Hello again! Yikes, has it really been over four months? Please forgive me for taking so long to update. Especially considering where we last left off :) This chapter was really difficult to write. It took a while to get the scene to flow smoothly and to feel natural. Even now, I'm not sure it's quite perfect, but I figure it's time to continue moving forward. Enjoy!

Harry was unable to look at the professor for more than a couple of seconds without closing his eyes in despair. He knew exactly what the potions master was staring at. He knew how bad it looked.

Snape inhaled and exhaled deeply, but was otherwise silent at first. Harry closed his eyes even tighter. In that moment, he just wanted to disappear.

"Tilt your head back, please," the man finally said, his voice gentler than it had ever been before. And that alone sent another shiver down Harry's spine. This was bad. This was really bad.

Harry didn't immediately comply with the man's instruction, but Snape still had a firm grasp on his chin. And with a bit of a gentle nudge, Harry eventually allowed his head to be tilted back so that Snape could get a better view of the bruises around his neck.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Snape released the young boy's chin. And Harry immediately ducked his head.

"Look at me, Harry."

Harry drew another shallow breath. There it was again. Snape was using his first name. It sounded so strange coming from the dour potions master. This was all wrong.

The boy found himself shaking his head at the man's request. He just felt so embarrassed. So ashamed.

The silence dragged on for another long moment. And then Snape finally let out a sigh as he slowly got to his feet. "Come with me, Potter."

Harry's entire body was trembling. But rather than offer a response, he simply shook his head once more.

"That wasn't a request," Snape stated softly, sinking back onto the stool and leaning close to the terrified child. "I simply wish to move this…discussion…to a more comfortable location."

The man's voice lacked its usual bite, but Harry still felt his heart beating faster and faster with every passing second. "The hospital wing?" he finally managed to get out, his voice still little more than a whisper and filled with fear.

Snape considered the boy for a moment, before he finally shook his head. "No. Not yet. I promise."

Harry felt the tiniest twinge of relief at those words. "Then where?"

"You'll see. Now come," Snape responded.

It was another full minute of silence. But at last Harry found it within him to stand up from the stool. The boy continued to avoid looking at Snape, choosing instead to stare down at the hard stone floor. And a moment later, he flinched involuntarily as he felt the professor's hand land gently on his shoulder.

"It will be alright, Mr. Potter," the man attempted to reassure the boy. "Come now."

The potions master then began steering Harry towards the exit, one hand securely gripping the boy's shoulder.

Harry took in another shuddering breath as he attempted to wipe some of the tears from his face with his left hand. His right hand, meanwhile, remained firmly clutched against his chest as he walked across the room with Snape at his side.

But as soon as the classroom door swung open, Harry froze, his head now ducked so that his chin touched his chest.

"Come now," Snape said once again. "We don't have far to walk."

"Please, sir," the boy whispered pitifully, nearly choking on his words. "I don't want anyone to see me like this."

Snape gave the child's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "They won't. I promise."

As the pair ventured out into the hallway, Harry still refused to look anywhere but at the floor. He was so distraught that he barely registered when Snape steered him away from the direction of the entrance hall and instead led him even deeper into the dungeons. But true to the man's word, they did not run into another soul during their journey.

It was just a minute or so before the two came to a stop in front of a smooth stone wall at the end of a long corridor. Placing his hand flat against the stone, Snape muttered a few words under his breath and waited until part of the wall slid aside, revealing a dark wooden door.

Harry barely had the chance to wonder about where it was the professor had taken him before he was being guided inside, the door closing behind them with a click.

"This way, Potter," Snape murmured, gently guiding the boy forward. Harry noticed that the floor was no longer stone, but a soft gray carpet. He allowed himself a quick glance upwards and suddenly realized that he had been led right into somebody's living room, complete with a fireplace and a comfortable-looking couch with matching armchairs.

"Take off your robe and sit down," Snape urged, stopping in front of the couch and turning to face the child.

Harry froze, hugging his robe closer to himself as he slowly shook his head.

"This isn't up for debate," Snape said calmly, taking a step closer towards the boy. "Do you need help?" he asked then, eying Harry's wrist critically.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. Then he finally shook his head again and slowly shrugged out of his school robe, easing the fabric carefully past his wrist. Once removed, Snape took the garment and draped it across the back of the couch. And without any further prompting, Harry slowly lowered himself onto the very edge of the cushioned seat, his eyes glued firmly to his knees. He suddenly remembered his mother's picture, resting in the pocket of his robe. He wanted so badly to reach back and grab it, but he refrained from doing so. He didn't want Snape to think he was even weaker than he already appeared to be.

"Do you need anything?" Snape asked then. "Some water? Perhaps a cup of tea?"

Harry just shook his head, unable to find his voice.

Snape sighed heavily once more, sinking down onto the edge of the coffee table directly in front of Harry. He stared at the top of the child's unruly mop of hair for several seconds then before he finally began speaking. "Okay. First of all, Potter, I want you to know that you are safe here. It is just you and me. You are in my own personal quarters. No one else will bother us here."

Harry couldn't help but to glance up in surprise at this bit of news. He'd never been inside a teacher's living quarters before. He was fairly certain it wasn't something that would normally be allowed. But almost as soon as he caught sight of the potions master, he quickly ducked his head again, remembering that Snape could now see what his face really looked like. He took a deep breath and bit down on his lip, waiting for the professor to continue.

"Second," the man stated clearly then. "There is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. I only wish to help you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Harry eventually whispered, though he still made no attempt to meet Snape's gaze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man suddenly raise his wand in the air, and he instinctively flinched away in fear.

The potions master paused in his actions. "I am merely summoning some supplies," he explained. "You are safe, Potter."

Harry didn't respond, his shoulders hunching slightly as he continued to stare down at the floor.

"Let me see your left arm first," Snape said a moment later, as a pile of potions and bandages landed in a neat pile on the table beside him. "I'd like to examine that burn."

Harry frowned for a moment, not quite sure what his professor was referring to. And then he suddenly remembered. A potion had only just splashed onto his arm during class. It seemed so long ago now.

The boy reluctantly held his arm out to Snape. Truth be told, he didn't really feel much of a burning sensation anymore. More than anything, his forearm just itched where the potion had made contact with his skin.

Snape pushed the sleeve of Harry's shirt further up his arm and silently examined the angry red patch of skin before eventually picking up a small jar of salve and unscrewing the lid. "This should only burn for a moment," he stated, dipping two fingers into the concoction.

Harry gave the tiniest of nods as he felt the man hold his arm steady with one hand while the other began rubbing the salve into the burn.

The boy let out a short hiss of pain but remained otherwise silent as Snape worked. True to the man's word, the burning sensation did not last long. And for several long seconds, the only sound in the entire room was the crackling of the flames that had roared to life in the fireplace the moment the pair had sat down.

"We'll deal with these other bruises in a moment," the professor finally spoke again, releasing Harry's arm. "But I think the next order of business should be to take care of your wrist."

"It's fine," Harry answered automatically, not even thinking about the words he was speaking before they tumbled out of his mouth.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps you should allow me to be the judge of that, Potter. Now hold out your hand."

Harry hesitated, his uninjured arm instinctively moving to shield the wrist from view.

"Of course, I could call for Madam Pomfrey if you prefer," Snape stated seriously.

Harry immediately shook his head, fresh tears blurring his vision as he stared resolutely at his knees. "Please don't," he begged, his voice hitching as he spoke. "Please don't let anyone else see me like this."

Snape sighed. "You will need to see a healer at some point, Harry. And soon."

"No," the boy whispered desperately. "Please don't make me."

The professor sighed again. "I won't make you just yet. But you are going to have to allow me to examine your injuries in exchange. Would that be agreeable?"

It was silent for a moment. But eventually, Harry nodded his head in assent. There was simply no other option. He had no choice.

"Hold out your hand," Snape repeated.

Harry reluctantly obeyed, moving slowly to minimize the pain in his wrist. But still, he refused to look up.

Snape cast a quick diagnostic spell before reaching for a small vial next to him. "The wrist is definitely broken," he stated, unsurprised. "You'll need to drink this for me, please."

Harry eyed the tiny vial with suspicion as the professor held it out to him. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"It is for the pain you are undoubtedly feeling right now," Snape answered.

"I'm fine," Harry responded without thinking.

Snape immediately set the vial down on the table next to him and leaned closer towards the young Gryffindor who still refused to look him in the eye.

"Do not lie to me, Potter. There is no need. I have two perfectly functioning eyes, and I can clearly see that you are anything but fine. There is absolutely no sense in trying to hide from me any longer. Understood?"

Harry quickly wiped away a fresh wave of silent tears before finally nodding reluctantly.

"Drink," the man said again, once more picking up the vial and holding it out to Harry.

The boy accepted the vial this time and downed the contents quickly.

"It shouldn't take but a moment for that to begin to take effect," the professor stated, taking the empty vial back and setting it aside.

Snape was right. Within seconds, Harry began to feel relief as some of the aches and pains in his body slowly began to fade. He hadn't even realized how much pain he had been in until that moment, when his muscles began to relax, and his head suddenly stopped throbbing.

"Better?" Snape asked, after another few seconds had passed.

Harry nodded. His body was definitely still sore, but it was nowhere near as bad as it had been. "Thank you, sir," he whispered.

"There's no need to thank me, Potter," Snape responded, immediately turning his attention back to Harry's wrist. "Unfortunately, what I am about to do will likely cause some discomfort. But it is necessary to ensure the wrist will heal properly. Understood?"

Harry took a deep breath as he nodded, his heart suddenly racing in nervous anticipation of what was to come.

Not giving the child any opportunity to dwell on the matter any longer, Snape flicked his wand at the wrist resting securely in his own grasp, the spell murmured quietly under his breath.

Harry let out a pained gasp and instinctively attempted to pull away. It felt like Snape had just broken his wrist all over again, even though he knew the idea was absurd.

"All done," Snape reassured, keeping a gentle hold on Harry's wrist. "The bone fragments are properly aligned now for healing. We'll just need to bandage the area and keep it immobile for a bit. At least until Madam Pomfrey can work her magic."

Harry immediately stiffened at the mention of the mediwitch. "I don't—" he began quietly, still talking to his knees. But the potions master cut him off.

"I've already told you, Potter," he said, as he began the process of bandaging Harry's wrist. "You will have to see her eventually."

Harry sighed but didn't respond. It would be pointless to get into an argument about this right now. He knew he wouldn't win.

"How did you break your wrist?" Snape asked suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence that had reigned in the room for several long moments.

Harry visibly flinched at the question, as though he had been struck. He had known that this was coming. Of course Snape was going to want to know. But he still had no idea how to respond. All he knew was that he couldn't tell the truth.

"I know this is uncomfortable for you—" Snape began, finishing with the bandages and casting a spell to harden his handywork into a cast.

"I fell," Harry answered quickly, pulling away from Snape and nervously wrapping his arms around his middle.

"You fell?" Snape repeated, his tone of voice completely indiscernible. "Where?"

Harry swallowed as he took a moment to reach a trembling hand up to run anxiously through his unruly hair. Then he sighed and dropped his arm to wrap around himself once more.

And still he refused to look at his professor.

"I fell down the stairs," the boy finally whispered. It wasn't a complete lie anyway.

Snape didn't respond right away. First, he took a few moments to observe the anxious child carefully, drumming his fingers thoughtfully against the surface of the coffee table. And then he finally sighed. "Did you fall down the stairs, Harry? Or were you thrown?"

Harry froze once again, his voice suddenly caught in his throat. He eventually just shook his head no, unable to make himself form the words.

A moment later then, Harry felt the familiar sensation of Snape's fingers gripping his chin, forcing him to look up and meet his gaze.

"A verbal response, please, Mr. Potter," the man said firmly.

Harry knew he looked a complete mess. Not only was his face a patchwork of bruises and cuts, but he could feel the wetness on his cheeks from all of the silent tears that had been spilling freely from his eyes. And after only a moment of staring into his professor's gaze, he instinctively tried to duck his head in shame.

But Snape wouldn't let him. The man kept his hold on the boy's chin, his eyes boring into Harry's. For a moment, the young Gryffindor feared that the professor was about to dive into his mind, and he desperately wished that he wasn't so terrible at occlumency. But the man didn't. He simply stared expectantly at Harry, his normally blank expression now seeming to betray a hint of anger and concern.

"I-I fell," the boy finally managed to get out, his voice quiet and trembling as he forced the lie past his lips.

There was silence for another moment. And then Snape finally released Harry, who immediately dropped his head to stare at the floor.

Snape turned for a moment to rummage through his pile of medical supplies. "And the rest of your injuries? Where did they come from?" he prompted.

Harry shrugged, not even attempting to offer a response.

"Potter—"

"I fell," Harry interrupted then, his voice sounding almost frustrated. "I'm always falling. I'm just clumsy, okay?" he reached up then to swipe viciously at another tear.

"We both know that's not true," Snape answered calmly.

"It is true," Harry insisted, his tone practically begging Snape to believe him.

"It isn't," Snape countered. "Potter, the bruises around your neck are in the shape of a hand. Somebody did this to you."

Harry shrank back, his arms tightening around himself protectively.

"I would very much like to know the truth, Harry," the professor said quietly, leaning closer to the child.

At the sound of his name, Harry let out a whimper. He found himself suddenly thinking back on the Christmas holidays. About how he had messed everything up with Aunt Marge and ruined any chance he had had of the Dursleys finally accepting him. It was ultimately his fault Uncle Vernon had been so angry with him. And then there was his conversation with Dobby. Somehow, his inflation charm had gone undetected by the Ministry. But if they were to find out about it now—

"Please sir, I don't want to be expelled," Harry choked out in a whisper.

Had the child been looking at the potions master in that moment, he would have seen the man's face morph into one of complete confusion.

"What are you talking about, Potter?" Snape asked. And then, thinking he understood, he continued, "We will discuss your illicit potion-brewing activities at a later time. But for now—"

But Harry was shaking his head. "No. It's not that."

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Then what is it?"

Harry opened his mouth. Part of him just wanted to let everything spill out, just so he wouldn't have to carry it inside him anymore. But the words got caught in his throat, and he found himself snapping his mouth closed and shaking his head yet again.

Instead of pushing the child further, Snape stood, a jar of bruise balm in his hand. He unscrewed the lid and let out a soft sigh. "Look up, please," he said.

Knowing that the man would only force him to look up if he refused, Harry reluctantly complied, watching as the man dipped his fingers into the balm.

The boy couldn't help but to flinch a little bit at the cold sensation on his skin as the potions professor began carefully dabbing at the bruise around his eye. The man paused at his reaction, one eyebrow raised.

"Do you need another pain potion?" he asked in concern.

Harry shook his head. "No," he whispered. "It's just cold."

Snape seemed to consider the boy for a moment before finally giving a nod and resuming his work.

But as the man continued applying the bruise balm to his face, Harry could feel even more tears welling up inside him. This was all so familiar. He had seen this before. Only last time, it had been Malfoy receiving such care from Snape. Right after Harry had punched him on the Hogwarts Express. And Harry had watched on, knowing he could never hope to receive such gentle treatment from the man himself. Even when Snape had discovered the bruises on his arms that night, the professor had not taken the time to apply the balm. He had simply given the jar to Harry and sent him on his way. And now—

Without warning, a sob escaped Harry's lips. He immediately looked away, trying to compose himself as more sobs threatened to spill out of him.

"Deep breaths, Potter. That's it," came the calm voice of the potions master, one of the man's hands resting firmly on the child's shoulder. "Here. Drink this."

Harry felt the cup being pressed to his lips, and decided not to resist it. In fact, he almost welcomed the calming draught at that moment. Perhaps it would help him keep his emotions in check.

But as the liquid slid down his throat, Harry quickly realized that it wasn't a calming draught that Snape had given him. In fact, it wasn't a potion at all.

"Water?" he asked quietly, slightly confused. "Where's the calming draught?"

Snape lowered himself onto the couch next to Harry, his hand never leaving the boy's shoulder.

The man sighed. "Not today, Harry. Sometimes, it's best to allow ourselves to feel our emotions."

And just like that, Harry could hold it in no longer. Another sob escaped him. And another. And soon he was openly weeping in Snape's living room, no longer even attempting to wipe the tears from his face. Without thinking, he leaned slightly towards the man, who wrapped a strong arm around the child's small shoulders as he cried.

"Everything will be alright," Snape murmured then, not for the first time that night. "I promise."

A/N: As always, any and all feedback is welcome! Next time, we're going to pick up with Snape's POV, so we can better explore what's going on in his head right about now.

Thanks for reading!

-Ailee17

January 27, 2020