Thank you for the continued reviews and I hope you are still enjoying the story, those who are still reading after all this time. Please, if you are enjoying my story, do take the time to leave a few words, even if they are simply to encourage me to continue, or to give ideas as to what else you would like to see. I promise, Severus will not be remaining as harsh as he currently seems but I do not wish him to suddenly become this warm and cuddly character because that, in my opinion, is not someone he would ever entirely be, regardless the circumstances. Anyway, as always, the characters are not mine, but the story idea is.

Having ascertained that Harry was once again, asleep, and not in need of more urgent medical help, Severus carefully lifted the boy's head and deposited the Fever Reducer down his throat, rubbing the teen's throat with careful fingers to ensure he did not choke. That done, he sighed heavily and simply stood observing for long minutes, his thoughts trying to make sense of the child's words and what they could mean. He found he could no longer consider the like as being ploys for more attention and that disturbed him. The implications weighed heavily on his shoulders. How was he to keep the boy safe, let alone offer the help he so clearly needed, when such mutual dislike existed between them? It was true, he was struggling to maintain his habitual hatred of the boy given what he had witnessed when the boy was disrobed, but nevertheless, he would... could never like the boy nor foresee himself capable of offering any measure of comfort. His conflicting emotions sat uneasily with one another and he found himself pacing the room as darkness crept in casting the occupants in shadow.

The boy had clearly been beaten and it did not take much effort to work out just who the perpetator most likely was. Of course, he had noticed a few stray images during the disastrous occlumency lessons of the previous year, but he had paid them little mind, preferring to maintain his view that the boy was as spoilt in his muggle home as he was in the Wizarding world. He had not considered that Petunia might have remained as unpleasant and vindictive as an adult as she had been in childhood and had felt it was none of his concern either way. It had been easy to forget that this child was the only remnant of Lily and he had never thought that to do disservice to him, was to do betray her memory.

Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he sank heavily into the chair by the boy's bed, weighed down with fatigue and an insidious sense of guilt. To fail the boy was to fail Lily. His concern had been for duty alone... a duty to keep the boy alive, to protect him from those affiliated with The Dark Lord. He had paid no heed to anything beyond that. Leaning forwards, he pressed his face into his hands as he remembered the letter Lily had sent. Her words did not bring him any relief but rather acted as a further reminder that had he made different choices, he could have had a family and would not be servant to two sat like this for sometime, before he straightened up in the chair, allowing his usual mask of indifference to shift over his features again. He could not... would not allow his altered perceptions to sway how he treated the boy. The boy might have been poorly treated by his relatives, but that aside, he was still arrogantly foolhardy and he still resembled the elder Potter to such a degree that Severus found he could not look at him without irritation, if not anger. Nevertheless, he found himself uncomfortably conflicted as he remembered the boy's scarred back and his fear on finding the child sprawled on the ground. Shaking his head and rising to his feet, he checked once more that his charge was still sleeping before calling Minky to keep watch as he hastened from the room. It was time to have a talk with Albus.

Albus Dumbledore was seated at his desk, perusing various scrolls of parchment, when green flames flared up in his fireplace revealing the face of his Potions Master. Looking up, slightly surprised the other would willingly make contact following their last meeting, he rose to his feet slowly and came to stand closer, blue eyes searching Severus' face for any sign of emergency, but finding only the usual expressionless mask.

'Headmaster, I request your presence at the Manor', he spoke in a voice that broached no argument before withdrawing from the flames.

Moments later, Albus emerged into the familiar formality of Severus' study to find the younger man pacing by the windows. It was not a rare occurrence to find him engaging in this activity, but in this instance, there was a sense of agitation and urgency about the movement. He made his way over to the man, pale blue robes swishing gently about his feet as he came to a stop nearby.

'What is it, Severus? What has happened?', his voice was quiet, but commanding as it broke the silence of the large room

The Potions Master came to an abrupt stop, and turned sharply to face his employer, anger etched on his features, his eyes blazing black with a rage Albus had not been witness to in many years.

'Do you have any idea what you have done?', the other man hissed out sharply, eyes narrowed and burning relentlessly into the infuriatingly calm blue ones of his mentor, 'Did it not once cross your mind to check on that boy's home life while you were busy honing him as a weapon to do your bidding?'

Albus stepped forward and went to place a hand on the irate man's shoulder, but found himself thwarted as Severus sharply stepped away and turned to face the window, his back tight and rigid, his poise tense.

'What is this about, Severus? Why this sudden interest in the boy's home life? Harry was sent to the place where he would be safest. There was no other choice. You, of all people, know the strength of blood protected wards'

Albus stood calmly, belying the slight concern he felt as to what could have bought the stoic man at the window to such a state of anger. Of course, anger was not an emotion that was alien in the younger man, and quite frequently, it was the only emotion one might observe on the usually expressionless mask, but in this instance, there was an entirely different level to it and as little as it showed on the aged Wizard's features, it unnerved him.

Albus moved forward again, coming to stand at the window himself, silently waiting for a response to his question. He vaguely noted that the gardens were almost wild, paths overgrown with tangled weeds and the wooded areas in the distance shrouded in darkness and shadow. Before he could ponder this further, Severus had turned on him with a most unpleasant sneer on his face, his eyes glittering dangerously,

'You think blood always assures protection?', he spat out, 'Have you learned nothing, old man?'

He moved away from the window and swept towards the study door before turning back to Albus, who had turned to watch him silently, realising that there was nothing to be said until he knew what had bought on such an outburst.

Albus Dumbledore was not, of course, as blind as some might have assumed him to be when observing his usually placid and often eccentric demeanour. Certainly, those closest to him were undoubtedly aware of his calculating mind and his subtle manipulations of those he mentally shifted across the giant chessboard in his mind. As a man who strove towards a greater good, he could not afford to focus on the finer details. That he cared deeply about those he had cast as the main playing pieces, could not be denied, but he had learnt long ago that tender emotions were uneasy companions in times of War. He could not lose sight of the larger picture... to do so would be to hand the Wizarding world to the Dark Lord on a gilded plate.

'You wish to know what this is about, Headmaster?', the deceptively soft voice of Severus Snape whispered sharply. Albus inclined his head, his blue eyes unwavering as he replied calmly, 'I do, Severus'.

'Then I suggest you follow me'.

That said, Severus swept from the room, his motions sharp, robes reflecting his mood as they billowed out around him.

Severus led the Headmaster upstairs and along the hallway to the room he had left Potter in. It seemed the most obvious solution to his current inability to speak without the strong desire to curse Albus Dumbledore from here to Kingdom Come. It was not so much that he was irate out of some midplaced concern for the boy, but rather that he now had the added burden of dealing with further damage to the boy's already addled psyche. He never had been and never would be a man who was well placed to deal with a damaged child, no matter what the circumstances of his own past. He had no place for the triviality of emotional sympathy in his composition. In fact, he very much doubted he was even capable of the sort of ministrations Potter would undoubtedly need if he were to have any chance of surviving this War. He had always found it remarkably easy to loathe the teenager who served as a reminder, not only of his schooltime nemesis, but also of the mother who would have survived had she not been protecting the brat. His features darkened as a small voice reminded him that were it not for his own mistakes, Lily might have lived and the boy might even have been his.

Striding into Potter's temporary room, paying no heed as to whether the other man had kept up with his rapid pace, he came to a stop at the foot of the bed and folded his arms across his chest. The Headmaster came to a stop beside him and both men stood for a few moments, simply looking at the pale and sweaty face of the bed's occupant. The boy shifted slightly in his sleep, his features tense and Severus held his breath, hoping that this was not the precursor to a repeat of the teen's earlier nightmare. Moving to the boy's side, Albus reached out a hand and gently brushed the hair away from the famed scar before turning his head slightly towards Severus, 'it seems that even in sleep, Harry cannot escape his burdens', his voice was quiet and tinged with the rough edge of sadness before he continued, 'What is this about, Severus?'

Maintaining a stony silence, Severus swept forwards and pulled back the blankets covering the boy then carefully manoeuvred him onto his front before stepping back. He then drew his wand and with a few uttered words and a sharp, swift motion, the pale blue pajamas covering the teenager disappeared, leaving his scarred back and buttocks on full display. The silence in the room was absolute, hovering like a heavy weight upon the men's shoulders. In spite of having seen the marks before, at close hand, the sight still gave rise to tendrils of anger that twisted themselves around Severus' insides like blackened tentacles. Tearing his eyes away from the marred skin, he glanced across the bed to gauge how the other occupant of the room was reacting to the revelation.

A number of expressions crossed the face of Albus Dumbledore with shock morphing into sorrow and then sorrow morphing into an anger that Severus had never before seen on the face of his mentor. It was an anger that spoke of consequences for whoever had deigned to mar the precious skin of the Golden Boy, not that Severus hadn't had his own fantasies of what he would wish upon the loathsome muggles. The idea of those bloated human travesties physically attacking any wizard was abhorrent to him but to attack a child who had little means of defending himself painted them as little more than insects in Severus' mind. The silence in the room continued to stretch until finally, the other man spoke, his voice echoing the regret in his pale eyes

'I knew that Harry would never be treated with kindness when I left him in the care of Petunia Dursley those many years ago. Had I known...if I had any idea that they would cause him physical harm...', his voice broke off and he sat down heavily in the chair that Severus had occupied earlier. After a few more moments of silence, he gazed across at Severus and resumed speaking, 'How did this come to light, Severus?'

Severus gazed back for a few moments, then reaching towards the bed, he carefully turned the sleeping boy so that he was laying on his back and pointed towards his legs, 'I found out, Headmaster, when I found Potter unconscious in a puddle of his own vomit and sporting a rather high fever. Naturally, I had to get his temperature back down to a safer level... evidently, his lack of interest in nourishing himself is the least of our concerns. The foolish boy has been slicing himself up like a joint of meat with no regard for the cleanliness of whatever he used for such a purpose', he snarled the last sentence as he drew his wand once more and spelled the boy back into pajamas. Pulling the blankets back up to cover Harry's shoulders, he stepped back from the bed and folded his arms across his chest, his stance tense and agitated

'What we you thinking, sending him back to that Godforsaken place year after year, without a thought as to other possible dangers? Have you totally lost your mind? The hospital wing has practically become Potter's second home, yet no-one noticed? No-one even suspected...', he broke off then as his thoughts sought to remind him of his own failure to notice what should have been obvious. He had long experience of dealing with abuse, both in his own past and in the lives of some of his own House, yet he had not even considered it a possibility for Potter. He had caught glimpses of the boy's unsavoury home life during their short-lived Occlumency lessons, but he had found it incredibly easy to brush them away as rare occurrences. He had been so certain that Potter experienced the same fawning adoration at home as he seemed to among his friends that it had never crossed his mind to objectively examine the memories. The concept that Potter might not be the boy he had convinced himself that he was sat uneasily in his head and he had to admit, it was stirring up a lot of emotions he had no inclination to deal with. The Headmaster's voice broke into his thoughts and he lifted his head to meet the other's steadfast gaze,

'This is not the time to place blame, Severus. Afterall, did you not also miss the signs?', the elderly Wizard rubbed a hand across his eyes before continuing, his voice burdened with the weight of what he had just seen, 'Of course, I cannot deny that I, more than any other, have failed Harry in this, but we all missed what should have been there to see. Had Poppy seen any evidence of such abuses, I am sure she would have reported such. As it is, I can only imagine that Harry must have found ways to conceal the physical signs of his relatives' treatment.'

'And how do you propose we are to deal with this situation, Headmaster? How do you propose we hone a damaged weapon?', he sneered at the last, ignoring the anger that glanced across the other man's eyes

'Severus, the boy is not a weapon...', albus replied before being cut off sharply.

'Don't you dare tell me you haven't been manipulating every aspect of that boy's life since the day he was born, Albus. Do you think me a fool? Have you ever once seen him as the child that he so obviously is?', the words were spat out as he turned and stalked across the room towards the door. Coming to a stop, he turned back to the Headmaster, dark eyes glittering with fury as he spoke his next words,

'For years I have protected Potter, at your bidding, fulfilling the vow I made to keep Lily's child safe; A thankless task, but I still did my utmost to keep the brat alive. Just how, Headmaster, do you propose we keep him safe now, when he is undoubtedly hellbent on his own self destruction? Do you honestly believe that he is not going to be affected by the violence inflicted on him, year after year? You saw the scars. His mind, such as it is, has clearly been affected and if you think for one moment that I am prepared to unravel the damage or even attempt it...', he glanced back over towards the bed where Harry had started to murmer in his sleep. Dumbledore, who had risen to his feet during Severus' outburst reached out a hand brushed his fingers across the boy's forehead before turning back to the dark man across the room,

'There is no safer place for him at this time, Severus', he raised a hand as Severus opened his mouth to protest, 'I am aware of your irrational dislike for the boy, Severus, but this is not the time for childish grudges. I have told you many times before and I will now tell you again... Harry is not his father and your fate rests upon him as much as does the rest of the Wizarding world. Where would you have me send him? Do you honestly believe that he would be safe from prying eyes on the wards of St Mungos? Do you think that any among his friends would know how to deal with him while he is in this state? I know that the thought that you might have anthing in common with Harry is uncomfortable, but even you cannot deny the evidence, Severus. And his way of dealing with it is not so very far from that of another boy I knew so many years ago', he glanced around the room then walked towards the desk, reaching down to pick up the photo album that lay forgotten on the floor. Looking sadly at the open page for a few moments, he placed it gently on the desk then moved to stand in front of Severus. Pale blue eyes stared unwaveringly into black for a long moment before Severus broke the contact, his hands clenching into fists of frustration,

'The boy is not like me. We have nothing remotely in common. He is arrogant and reckless, just as his cursed father was before him', but even as he spat the words, he felt a fragment of doubt as unbidden memories of his own past crept into his mind. Rubbing a hand across his face, he continued, 'You cannot ask this of me, Albus. How can you even consider leaving the boy in my care? He loathes me as much as I loathe him. I am the last person he would wish to know of his wretched muggle home life'.

The Headmaster studied him for a few moments before reaching out to place a hand firmly on his shoulder, 'But you do know of his home life, Severus', he spoke quietly, needing no volume to convey the power of his words, 'and I do not believe my faith in you is misplaced. I do not believe that the faith Lily appears to have had in you was misplaced either', he paused, searching the black eyes and seeing what he had hoped to see, he continued, 'She trusted you, Severus. She trusted you, as I have trusted you, to keep Harry safe. I know I ask much of you, my boy, but it is essential that Harry come to terms with events, both recent and past, so that he may be strong enough to face his future. I will be paying a visit to the Dursleys, of that you can be sure...they will not go unpunished for this and I will take measures to find out more of what went on at that house. I will make contact with Poppy and...', he broke off and turned sharply as a loud cry rent the air.

Shrugging the hand from his shoulder, Severus moved away from the door and brushed past the other Wizard, his eyes fixed on the bed as he quickly strode towards it.

Harry was once again thrashing blindly, his voice hoarse as he cried out desperately, lost in the horror of whatever nightmare he was experiencing. His legs kicked at the blankets as his hands came up to claw viciously at his forehead, drawing blood almost instantly. Albus stepped towards the bed, but stopped when Severus growled, 'Stay where you are' as he grabbed the boy's hands and pulled them roughly away from the bloodied face. 'Minky!', he called to his House Elf, his voice sharp with anger as she appeared beside him with a barely audible pop, 'Show the Headmaster out.'. With a gentle nod and one last glance at the scene before him, Albus turned and left the room, the sounds of Harry Potter's pained cries following him long after he had left the manor.