Chapter 5
Harry sat at the top of the stairs, his head lightly touching the door above him. It was shut tight, and all the kicking and slamming in the world wouldn't open it. After he'd practically exhausted himself trying to open the door, it hit him. The window. The one in the little darkened room directly across from him. It was getting dark outside by this point, and little light was shining through except what meager rays of sunshine still existed.
He started to go into the room, only to realize the light wasn't going to last for much longer and went to retrieve the lantern he'd used earlier. Lighting it, he walked into the room, eyeing the window speculatively. He thought he could fit through it with a little wiggling and squirming. He'd just have to be very quiet and not draw the attention of the prick upstairs.
Setting the lantern down on the floor, Harry looked around for a moment, unable to recall where he'd put the stool he'd used earlier. Shaking his head at his own forgetfulness, Harry went back into the main room and grabbed the stool he'd put back when he'd been finished using it from before. Placing it against the wall, Harry stood on his tip toes on the seat of the stool, hoping he wouldn't fall off of it. That would hurt like a bitch.
The window was nailed shut for whatever reason, but it hadn't been done well. He was able to pull most of the nails out with his own fingers. The ones that were jammed in a little better than the others were still easy to pry out with a little judicious hammering and prying with a piece of hefty wood he'd found in another room.
Once that was accomplished, Harry smiled to himself. The sense of freedom was almost upon him…almost. He just had to climb out. The window opened easily. Harry had been worried it would creak or make some other loud noise to alert Kirkpatrick, but it didn't. He had to jump in order to get his upper body through the window and once that was done, he grabbed hold of a stone, probably a portion of the house, and started to drag himself up.
When he felt the hand on his own, it almost didn't register. But when it cinched his hand painfully tight, Harry glanced up in alarm as his face simultaneously fell. Kirkpatrick was kneeling in front of him with a look on his face that he could only describe as pleased. "Going somewhere?" he asked Harry hatefully, before yanking Harry's grip from the stone as he started pushing the smaller boy backwards. Back into the house.
Harry tried to maintain his grip, but Kirkpatrick nearly broke one of his fingers in order to release his hold. Harry cried out as he suddenly found himself airborne. He hit the ground with a thud, pain exploding up his back and in his head. When he tried to move he started to black out.
When Harry next became aware, his head throbbed and his back felt like he'd been very close to doing some damage to it. It hurt so badly. Hearing loud hammering noises sent even more painful jolts into his already pounding head and he slammed the palms of his hands against his ears in a futile effort to stop the sounds.
Looking up he finally realized where the noise was originating from and groaned. The only hope of escape was being nailed shut…again…and with a lot more force than was originally done. He highly doubted he'd be able to pull out the nails this time, especially without a real tool to use and without his wand.
Kirkpatrick glanced up suddenly from his work, apparently having seen movement from the boy, and grinned at him maliciously. Harry hated him. He hated him more than he thought he'd ever hated anyone before. And considering the people he'd come into contact with, that was definitely saying something, a defining moment as it were. He just couldn't understand why the man was being so mean to him. There didn't seem to be a reason to his hatefulness, and if that were the case, Harry was beginning to consider that the man might be mad. Or just a sick, demented man who got his jollies out of torturing others. Freak.
When the noise suddenly stopped, Harry was pulled from his silent musings and he glanced out the window to see what Kirkpatrick was doing now. Only, he couldn't see him anymore. The lantern's light could only illuminate the area beyond the window so much, and he wondered if the man was just standing there watching him. It was a very creepy notion and a shiver ran up his spine.
Getting up on unsteady feet, his back was really hurting, Harry walked slowly back into the main room and was instantly aware that Kirkpatrick wasn't outside. He could hear the man moving around upstairs. But then what if it was Snape? Briefly, he considered calling out, but wasn't sure if it was the right course of action. What if it wasn't Snape? What if Kirkpatrick was up there just waiting for a reason to get ticked off enough to come back down here. And even if it were Snape, the man would probably consider him an idiot for trying to escape in the first place. Not once, but twice. And he knew Kirkpatrick would shed the entire situation in a light that would make Harry seem like the guilty party.
Deciding against calling out, Harry chose to continue cleaning the basement to Snape's specifications just in case he came back early. Kirkpatrick had said he'd be gone for a while, but who knew if he was lying or not.
Picking up the broom he had discarded earlier, Harry began working on sweeping the floors. He hadn't exactly done an exceptional job when he'd been trying to sweep earlier as Snape had been trying to get him to talk. In fact, the floor looked worse than before. Lovely.
Sweeping required that he bend his frame a little bit…and it wasn't a pleasant feeling. It hurt like hell, really. And to top it off, his head ached like nothing he'd experienced before, after it had bounced off the floor so spectacularly. He hated Kirkpatrick. Damn jerk.
A creaking step was what let Harry know he was no longer alone. Spinning around while simultaneously bringing the broom up as a weapon once more, Harry faced the person he was beginning to consider a real enemy.
Kirkpatrick stopped on the stair his weight had made creak, holding what looked to Harry to be painting supplies.
"What are you doing?" he asked, the broom held tightly in his hands, ready to swing at a moment's notice.
"Change of plans," Kirkpatrick said nonchalantly.
Harry glared. "Snape wants me to clean the basement. Not paint," he stated the obvious, as he was fairly sure the little jerk knew precisely what he was supposed to be doing. He also was fairly certain this was some type of ruse to get Harry in Snape's bad graces. He was worried what Snape might think if he came back to find the basement not finished to his specifications.
Moving the broom up higher when he saw the man come down another step, Harry stood with a defensive stance, at least attempting to be ready for him.
Kirkpatrick sat the cans of paint on the dusty floor with a resounding bang. "You'll do as I say, Mr. Potter. And you will not talk back to me! Have you forgotten your lessons so quickly?" he stated heatedly, his face even as Harry watched turning a deep shade of red. "You will do as you are told!"
This last was screamed at him and Harry inadvertently took a step away from the man.
"You stay away from me," shaking in fear and trepidation, Harry continued to put distance between the two of them. He feared what would happen if Kirkpatrick got his hands on him again. What happened in the lighthouse had been absolutely horrifying. Honestly, he didn't want to go through that kind of pain again. The ache of his back at this precise moment was nothing to the pain he had felt when Kirkpatrick had beaten him that day. Twisting his fists against the grain of the broomstick handle, Harry tried to prepare himself for anything.
Grinning, looking deceptively calm, Kirkpatrick gained another step on Harry's position. "Mr. Potter, I don't believe you understood what I just said. Perhaps we need another lesson in understanding? Perhaps it hasn't sunk into your exceptionally dimwitted brain that you are not the one in charge here."
Bristling at the words spoken against him, Harry couldn't help but glare angrily at the man. Against his better judgment, and quite frankly, he just couldn't quite keep his ire inside, he said, "Perhaps it is you whose stupidity is monumental. It's not you who is in charge. This isn't your house. The lighthouse that stands outside is not your property. Snape is just giving you a place to stay. You're only here on Snape's say so. And wouldn't you know it? That means Snape is the one in charge. And since he's not here…you can kiss my ass."
As soon as he was finished speaking Harry's mouth dropped open of its own accord. He did not just say that to Kirkpatrick, the man who looked at him now as if Harry was a fresh piece of meat and Kirkpatrick was only more than willing to cook him nice and slowly. And painfully. Over an open flame. While poking him with searing hot prongs.
Suddenly knowing his death was upon him, Harry continued down his path of craziness and lashed out with the broom he'd been practically crushing between his clenched fists. And was shocked when the thing actually connected cleanly with the side of Kirkpatrick's head. The man went down quickly, hitting the ground with a muffled thud on the dusty floor.
Standing there, momentarily stunned, Harry dropped the broom. The noise it made was decidedly louder than the noise Kirkpatrick had made. It clattered noisily as it hit the floor, bouncing a few times before coming to rest. The noise was what actually made him come to his senses.
He smacked himself in the head. "Stupid, Potter!" he stood there degrading himself for a few moments before swooping down and retrieving the broom once more. "You're only form of defense and you drop it on the floor, you bloody idiot," he muttered to himself, thinking if this had been one of those stupid scary movies that he had snuck a look at while Dudley and his friends had been watching the telly, he'd have laughed his arse off. It never ceased to amaze him how in every scary movie, the idiots either dropped or happened to lose the weapons that had just saved their lives in the scene prior. Morons. Have some sense.
Unfortunately, Harry's brief moment of self reflection had cost him. Dearly. Kirkpatrick had managed to regain his feet. And he swung out harshly, the side of his fist connecting with the side of Harry's face, sending him flying to the floor as his face exploded in a fire of agony. Briefly incognizant of the danger around him, Harry lay prone on the floor, dust sifting up from all the movement now settling in his hair and on his clothes.
Distantly, Harry recognized that Kirkpatrick was coming towards him again but he wasn't able to move away like he wanted to. He stared up at the ceiling, eyes rolling attempting to focus on something, wishing his facilities would come back to him. Escaping was foremost on his mind, but he was currently helpless.
When the man straddled his hips and wrapped his hands around his slender neck, Harry knew he really needed to move. As the fingers began to clench around his windpipe, Harry finally found the ability to struggle. He started clawing at the hands at his throat, hitting at the man's face, and kicking out to anything he could reach. Nothing he did, however, seemed to thwart Kirkpatrick's desire to strangle the life out of him.
Suddenly, the man stopped and sat up, staring at his hands and down at the boy beneath him as if confused. Harry immediately took in a gasping breath and just as quickly started coughing so hard he almost threw up. Every intake of breath just made him want to cough even more, so he tried to calm down and take shallow breaths. But with Kirkpatrick still straddling him it wasn't easy. What if he attacked again? And what the hell made him stop?
Harry could tell by looking at the man's face that he was still angry, but apparently trying to squelch anymore abuse. Harry hoped he realized that killing him would leave a lot to be explained once Snape returned. Kirkpatrick suddenly levered himself up and off of Harry and then grabbed Harry's arms to sit him up.
Instinctively, Harry flinched away from him, but the man held firm. "Just sit still and take slow breaths, Potter," he instructed angrily. "Damn it," he muttered, seemingly to himself now. Harry watched him run a hand roughly through his hair, his agitation showing clearly. When the man suddenly took his face and tilted it backwards, Harry slapped the hand away and started peddling his feet against the dusty floor, moving backwards. He wanted to put as much distance between the two of them as possible.
"Potter, calm the hell down," Kirkpatrick grabbed at Harry's ankle, but the boy was quicker, making it to his feet, and backed away from the man. When he hit the wall, however, he felt even more trapped.
"You stay away from me!" he rasped out, and immediately started coughing again…rough, hacking coughs that felt like his throat was tearing apart. It hurt and it even burned. Harry wished for a cold glass of water but didn't presume to get one anytime soon.
Looking down he saw that he was now standing by the painting supplies that Kirkpatrick had brought down earlier. If he had to, Harry was more than willing to dispatch a can of paint at the jerk's head.
"Shut up, Potter, and do as you're told!" his tormentor continued to come closer, his intense eyes practically plastered to his neck, Harry realized. It must be swollen, he thought, because it sure felt swollen. And bruised too, he bet. Kirkpatrick was probably freaking out in that case, because this was something he couldn't hide from Snape. He would definitely see it.
His suspicions were confirmed a moment later. "Can you heal those?" he asked, continuing his slow walk in Harry's direction.
Harry raised his hand to his throat, feeling the heat coming from the swollen area, and realized he couldn't even if he had wanted to. "Snape has my wand," he answered quietly.
"Damn it!" Kirkpatrick slammed his hand down on a nearby table, one Snape planned to use when he turned the basement into his laboratory.
Harry watched as the man began pacing the dirty floor, kicking up the dust, which once he inhaled it made Harry begin to cough again. It hurt so badly now he was surprised he wasn't coughing up a lung.
Kirkpatrick stopped once he realized he wasn't helping the situation. He obviously needed Harry's throat to be better before Snape returned. His eyes lit up as if he suddenly had an idea. "You stay here and paint the basement like I instructed," he said, making his way upstairs. "If I find your wand, you'll be able to heal yourself, right?" he asked when he was half-way up.
Harry honestly wasn't sure if he could or not. It wasn't something he'd learned in any of his classes. But, he had his textbooks here and he remembered seeing a basic healing spell in one of them. "I'll have to look in my books for the spell, but I think I can," he answered hesitantly.
This didn't seem to please Kirkpatrick…that he didn't know the spell right off his head, but it was the best Harry could do. "Fine, I'll look for your wand. You get to work!" he yelled, his voice menacing and promising retribution if he didn't do as he was told. As the door slammed shut once his tormentor had climbed out of the basement, Harry sunk slowly to the floor. He'd never felt more miserable in his life. Not even living with the Dursley's was this bad.
He only allowed himself a few moments of wallowing in his depression before he climbed tiredly to his feet and grabbed the broom. He would have to get the dust off of the walls if he wanted the paint job to look even remotely passable. Once that was accomplished, Harry pried the lid off of the first can of paint, a dark green color, and poured a bit of it into a tray. He then looked around and found the paint roller and attached it to a six inch extension pole that he found with the rest of the supplies. The walls were fairly tall down here and he would need it.
Once he was ready he rolled the paint roller through the tray and began to paint the walls, starting at the top and working his way down. Almost immediately he realized this wasn't going to help his throat at all. With the only window currently nailed shut, the fumes would have nowhere to go but to stay in the room. Already he wanted to cough.
Upon finishing the main room, he had to admit it looked pretty good, but all he'd gotten out of it was a splitting headache and an even tenderer throat.
He heard the clicking of the lock snapping out of place as the door was opened. Harry looked up the stairs with just a little bit of trepidation. The anger he normally felt wasn't the predominant feeling anymore, and it was a very odd feeling. He preferred the anger over fright, but anytime he let the anger take over, it caused Kirkpatrick to lose his own temper. He decided it was in his best interest to let the anger dampen down a bit.
As soon as Kirkpatrick started down the stairs Harry heard him let out a little startled cough as he inhaled the fumes.
"Why didn't you open…" he started before he cut himself off. He must have just remembered he had nailed the window shut, Harry thought darkly. If anything, the man looked more annoyed. "Why did you paint if you couldn't open the window, Potter?"
Harry stared at the man incredulously. "You told me to do as I was told," he answered…it came out as more of a sickly rasp, however. And this time he really did cough so hard he caused himself to sick up.
Immediately, Harry grabbed a rag and cleaned up what little he had thrown up. It wasn't as if he'd eaten much lately. There wasn't a trash can down in the basement, so Harry held the wadded up mess carefully in his hands.
"Come on, Potter," Kirkpatrick directed him up the stairs and outside to the back of the house. "Throw that in the pile there," he pointed to the pile of leaves that was to be burned and Harry did as he was told. He was too afraid of the consequences if he didn't do precisely that.
Once that was accomplished, they headed back into the house and into the kitchen. Kirkpatrick filled up a glass with water and handed it to Harry, which actually surprised the boy. He hadn't thought the man would do anything to help him. But, his throat was now worse and if anything, Kirkpatrick seemed more upset at this fact.
"I couldn't find your wand," Kirkpatrick said, answering any questions Harry had been contemplating about Kirkpatrick's sudden niceness. Without his wand, Harry couldn't heal himself and therefore his throat would have to heal the natural way. This would probably take a while, most definitely.
"Severus will be back tonight before dinner," the man was musing to himself, Harry knew, but this was a good thing for him. Kirkpatrick was less inclined to hurt him when Snape was around. Harry never thought he would actually be happy to see the man return, but it was what he was feeling right now. The man may not be the nicest person in the world, but he hadn't hurt Harry. Not like Kirkpatrick was keen on doing.
"This is what we're going to do," Kirkpatrick said suddenly, and then proceeding to breech Harry's personal space, backing him up until his back was pressed against the kitchen wall. "And you're going to do precisely what I say, aren't you Potter?" he asked, actually digging one finger into the bruised flesh of his throat. As soon as he let go Harry started coughing again, doubling over in the man's less than gentle embrace.
When the coughing began to wane, the man pushed him back up against the wall, his fingers digging painfully into the flesh of his upper arms. "You didn't answer my question, Potter," he said menacingly. "You're going to do what you're told, isn't that right?"
Harry was beginning to hate hearing that question. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely. And immediately went into another coughing fit.
Kirkpatrick shook him roughly, which didn't help at all, but the man's impatience was getting the better of him. "Stop coughing!" he yelled.
Harry tried really hard to stop coughing, he really did, but it wasn't exactly something he could control. "Water?" he rasped out, and when he felt the glass slammed into his hand, water splashing over the sides, he drank it greedily. The cool water helped where the shaking most definitely hadn't. As soon as he had his voice, Harry answered the question he didn't want to hear anymore. "I'll do what I'm told."
"Good boy," Kirkpatrick released his bruising grip on the boy's arms and took a small step backwards. "Now, when Severus returns we're going to say you came down ill and are too sick to be up and about. You're going to stay in your room and if Severus wants you to come out for meals you're going to tell him you don't feel well enough to eat. Your throat sounding the way it does right now should be sufficient enough evidence that you're sick. Under no circumstances is he to see you up close unless you are wearing your robe to hide the bruises on your throat," he said, suddenly caressing the boy's neck in a parody of affection. "Is that understood?"
Harry nodded, his throat hurt too much at the moment to speak.
"Then to bed with you. Severus will be home shortly and I need to get dinner fixed," he said, pushing Harry towards the hallway and his bedroom. "And remember not to let him see you without your robe on. In fact, put it on right now," he said. "If he asks why you're wearing it, tell him you're cold."
Harry nodded again and very quickly went to his bedroom. Making his way to his trunk, he flung the lid open and searched for one of his school robes. Finding one, he slipped it on over his clothes and climbed into bed. If anything, the extra layer made him feel quite warm, making his condition seem worse. He wished he had brought the glass of water with him instead of leaving it in the kitchen.
After lying in bed for about thirty minutes he actually started to feel tired. The work from the day, the pain he had suffered at Kirkpatrick's hands and his headache conspired against him and finally put him to sleep. He hadn't wanted to go to sleep before his teacher had gotten back home, fearing what Kirkpatrick would do if he decided to do more damage. But, he had doubted the man would try anything with Snape coming back home that night. Glancing at his watch between very tired eyes, he figured Snape would be home within the hour, and with that surprisingly reassuring thought, he let his eyes drift shut for good.
He didn't wake up until he heard two voices coming from the living room about an hour later. He didn't want to eavesdrop, but who was he kidding, he so wanted to hear what Kirkpatrick was telling Professor Snape.
He got up and went to the door, ready to run back and leap into his bed if the voices came closer to his room.
"…come down ill? He seemed to be fine when I left this morning. Are you certain he isn't pulling a ruse and acting ill to get out of his chores?"
This annoyed Harry just a bit, but only for a moment. Kirkpatrick was beginning to weave his web of lies as he listened in.
"Unfortunately, he does seem quite sick. He's come down with something. His throat is especially sore and you can tell when he speaks. He's been sleeping in bed for most of the afternoon. I've been in to check on him and he hasn't even woken up."
Harry rolled his eyes at the obvious lie and found himself wishing that Snape would just figure it out already. Why didn't his teacher ever use that legilimency thing on Kirkpatrick like he did on him?
"Very well, I'll look in on him now and see if he's up for some dinner," at this Harry quickly ran back to his bed and threw the covers up over his head. He knew he sometimes slept like this and wanted to make it seem believable. Even in bed, he could still hear the two speaking as they grew closer to his bedroom door.
"Perhaps we should just let him sleep," he heard Kirkpatrick say, his voice a little bit desperate in Harry's estimation.
"If he's as sick as you claim then the boy needs healing potions and a decent meal in his stomach to counteract the illness."
A healing potion sounded absolutely lovely to Harry, but he doubted it would get rid of his bruises, as it wouldn't be that type of healing potion. He didn't want to walk around in his robes for a week or so until the bruises disappeared.
The door opened and Harry went completely still. "Potter?" he heard Snape ask, his voice low.
Harry slowly rolled onto his side and pretended he was just waking up, which wasn't much of a feat considering he was still tired. He rubbed at his eyes and sat up in bed. "Yeah?" he whispered, his voice sounded horribly raw.
Snape seemed surprised at how horrible his voice sounded. He crossed the room and sat down on the side of Harry's bed. "Open your mouth, Potter," he instructed and Harry did so. "Tilt your head back a bit." Harry did this as well, his eyes widening a bit when he saw Kirkpatrick looking at him with an angry look on his face. He supposed the man thought he was about to get caught. Otherwise, he couldn't understand why the man would look at him like that.
He had his robe wrapped around him in such a way that Snape really shouldn't be able to even get a glimpse at his throat. "Are you cold?" the man asked, as if sensing his thoughts regarding his robe.
"A bit," he answered quietly, trying to restrict the use of his voice.
Harry flinched a little when Snape placed his hand against his forehead, presumably to check for a fever. Harry averted his eyes when he saw Snape glancing at him at the movement.
"You don't have a fever," he said. "You're throat is very raw for only having gotten sick this morning," he said, sounding a mite suspicious.
"It must have been building for a while now," Harry quickly came up with, and the cough that ripped through him had him grabbing onto Snape's arm to keep from sliding down into his pillows. Snape in turn had grabbed his arms to hold him up.
"I see that it must have been," Snape answered. "You rest now. I'll retrieve some healing potions for you to take after dinner. You'll need a full stomach in order for them to work affectively. I'll come get you when dinner is ready."
Once Snape had left the room, Kirkpatrick took the man's place and pushed Harry back into a prone position. "Not a word about this, Potter," he said softly.
Harry looked at him for a moment, feeling his rage start to build inside of him again. "Why are you doing this to me?" he asked suddenly, his voice a mere whisper.
"You brought this on yourself, you little brat. You've been nothing but a nuisance since you arrived. Mouthing off to Severus, to me, not doing as you're told. If you had just done as we'd asked you to when you arrived, we wouldn't be in this position right now, would we?"
"If you weren't such a freak, I suppose we wouldn't be, no," said Harry angrily. He blanched as soon as he said it, however. He absolutely had to watch his temper around this man.
"Watch your mouth, Potter, or do you need another lesson already?" the man asked, his face showing Harry that he would be more than happy to teach him said lesson.
"No," Harry looked away, attempting to shuffle to the other side of the bed, but Kirkpatrick wouldn't let him. His arms had once more gripped Harry's as he held him in place. "Stop squirming!"
"Get your hands off of me," he said, a little too roughly, because he immediately started coughing. When he finally caught his breath, he noticed that the man was still holding onto him. "What's with you? Get off."
Kirkpatrick, however, was listening to the door. Probably to see if Snape was still in the kitchen. "Just shut up, Potter," he insisted, shaking Harry by his arms.
Harry couldn't wait for Snape to tell them dinner was ready. Anything to get him away from this jerk.
"Get off of me," Harry spat at him, the man's hands on his arms were really beginning to hurt. And suddenly, Harry didn't know what made him taunt Kirkpatrick, but suddenly he was doing it. "Get off of me or I'm going to tell him. I'll tell him everything," he rasped out dangerously. "He'll never let you stay if he knows what's been going on. Especially if he knows you fancy him!"
Kirkpatrick turned to face him and when their eyes met, Harry knew he had said the wrong thing. Threatening the man hadn't been the answer and he was about to pay for it. "I told you not to speak of that again!" he said heatedly as he placed his hand against Harry's robe covered throat and pushed in such a way that Harry needed to cough, but then Kirkpatrick put the palm of his hand over Harry's mouth.
Harry shoved futilely at the hands on his throat and mouth, but Kirkpatrick wouldn't budge. It was like earlier, when the man had been full out strangling him, only this was worse with him covering his mouth and pressing on his throat. His throat burned like fire as he tried to pull in a breath against the hand suppressing his breathing.
Harry's legs kicked out, as before, trying to make contact with something, anything. He arched off the bed and when Kirkpatrick moved his hand to let him breathe, Harry gasped for breath and coughed desperately. "Stop," he sobbed, as Kirkpatrick made to put his hand over his mouth again.
"You'll never mention it again, will you?" he spat at the boy. "Never!"
"No, I won't, I won't," he said, turning his head this way and that to avoid the hand that was still trying to press against his mouth. "No, no," he begged. "Please stop," he whispered, ashamed to feel tears coursing down his hot cheeks. His throat felt as if it was on fire, his entire body ached and with Kirkpatrick still pressing down slightly on his throat, he just felt agonized.
"Yes, Edwin, do stop," the words were said in such a tone that Harry was certain someone was about to die. It just sounded evil. And when Harry looked up he was never more shocked at what he saw. Snape had come back in the room at some point and had wrapped his arm around Kirkpatrick's throat and had his wand pressed into the side of the man's head so hard that the skin was being pushed inwards at the point of impact. And Harry had never seen the man look more angry than he was at that moment. Honestly, it was the most frightening thing he'd ever seen. The man looked downright homicidal. He wouldn't be surprised if Kirkpatrick died right then and there. And he couldn't even fathom why the man was so mad.
"What were you doing, Edwin?" Snape asked menacingly. "You were hurting a child under my roof. A child in my care!" he roared and even Kirkpatrick winced.
"Severus, you don't understand!" he cried out. "He's uncontrollable! It had to be done!"
"I highly doubt that, Edwin," said Snape, his wand still making a crevice out of the side of Kirkpatrick's face. "He did nothing to be treated in such a way!" he yelled, his tone deadly. "I trusted you with him! And you know how I feel about the abuse of a child!"
Snape finally released the man but kept his wand trained on his head. "Step away from him," he said.
"Severus, please. You don't know what he's like when you're not around. Please, just take a moment and listen to me. That's all I ask."
"Nothing you say at this point will make me understand why you thought it was necessary to wrap your hand around his throat and keep him from breathing," said Snape, his wand hand steady yet Harry was distinctly worried the man was a moment away from murder.
"He wouldn't do as I asked him to! He tried to run away again, Severus. He hit me in the face with a broom," he yelled, indicating his face and showing the very light mark from the earlier impact.
Harry forced himself not to laugh. After all the man had done to him, he was upset because he'd smacked him with a broom? Idiot.
"He spoke poorly of you Severus. He always does!"
"I do not!" yelled Harry, instantly shuffling backwards as Kirkpatrick made a move towards him.
"Stay where you are, Edwin!" but Snape put a damper on that right away. "These are all very selfish and childish reasons you are giving me. You are the adult here. You should be able to handle a child with minor anger issues!"
"They're hardly minor, Severus!"
Snape was beginning to look more calm, which Harry was grateful for. But he was also worried Kirkpatrick would convince Snape of the lies he was telling. Snape lowered his wand now and this made Harry even more worried. He really shouldn't do that.
"You'd have me believe that Potter's transgressions required you to strangle him?"
"Oh, of course not! I know things got a little out of hand. But, he brought it upon himself!" insisted Kirkpatrick. "If he would just behave like I asked him to, this wouldn't have happened."
"If he doesn't do as you say in the future, what are you going to do? Slam his head into the wall until he begins to behave?" asked Snape sarcastically.
"Well, eventually his poor behavior would end if we weren't so easy on him," said Kirkpatrick in a tone that seemed like this was the most logical outcome to him. "If you would just stop being so careful with him!"
As Harry watched, Snape's eyes grew dark once more. "Get out of my house," he said heatedly.
Kirkpatrick seemed stunned. "What? Why?"
"You really don't realize why?" spat Snape. "Are you dense?"
"Please, Severus! See reason!"
"I can't believe I've known you all these years and never saw this side of you until now. You are not the man I thought I knew. And if you actually think I would ever stoop as low as you have in the treatment of a child, then you are single-handedly the most obtuse man I have ever known," said Snape calmly. "And yet you're still standing here, which shows me just how unintelligent you really are. Get out!"
"Severus, I have no where to go!"
"And shouldn't you have thought of that before you hurt the boy?" he asked. "Did you really think I'd allow you to stay?"
"If you understood how evil the little brat is, you wouldn't be throwing me out!"
Snape cocked his head. "I don't believe he's the evil one…"
Kirkpatrick looked outraged. "How dare you say such a thing to me! After all I've done for you! After I've gone out of my way to help you out with this land after your parents died! And everything I've done to try and straighten out this menace you've brought into your home! And this is the only thanks I get? The boot out the front door?"
"Yes, yes it is. And if you think you've done anything to help out here, you're seriously mistaken. If anything, you've done more harm than good!"
"Severus, please! Doesn't our relationship mean more to you than this?!"
Snape stopped and looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Excuse me?"
Harry couldn't help but snicker a bit. And decided he'd help out a little while he was at it. "Uh, Professor…he fancies you, by the way," he rasped out gently.
Snape looked at Harry incredulously and then glanced back at Kirkpatrick.
"You little shite!"
Harry tried to get out of the way, but Kirkpatrick had launched himself across the bed and grabbed the boy by his hair. He threw Harry back on the bed and punched him in the face. Harry lay gasping on the bed, and listened in silence as he heard Snape very roughly escorting Kirkpatrick out of the house. He thought he heard a little judicial use of some curses that he was fairly certain shouldn't be legal as Snape kicked the man out.
After it was all said and done, Harry lay on the bed, his entire body sore and hurting, and his mind in shock at the fact that Snape had not only defended him, but had even protected him in the end. It wasn't something he thought the man would do for him; especially against a man he had considered a friend once upon a time. But no longer, apparently.
When Snape came back in, he was carrying a few vials of a light green and light purple potion. He helped Harry sit up and then instructed him to drink the vials. Harry hesitated for a moment. The way the purple vial bubbled made him concerned about how it would feel against his very sore and tender throat.
"It won't hurt, Potter," Snape informed him when he'd stared at it with disdain for a little too long. He had apparently figured out what he'd been afraid of.
Harry downed both vials quickly and was pleasantly surprised to discover Snape hadn't lied to him. Neither potion had hurt his throat, and actually, the inside of his throat was beginning to feel much better now.
"Thanks," he whispered, still worried to use a much louder voice.
"You're welcome," returned his Professor.
The two sat in an awkward silence for a moment before Snape broke it.
"Are you all right?" he asked gently. "I can request the Headmaster's attendance if that would make you feel safer," he offered.
Harry shook his head. "I don't want him coming here," he said softly. He was still a little angry at the man for not coming to visit sooner. When he'd needed him.
"Has this been going on the entire time?" asked Snape.
Harry glanced up and noticed the man looked like he was bracing himself for something. Harry frowned at him for a moment, not understanding what the look was for.
"Yeah, sorta," he answered slowly, and watched in growing trepidation as the man clenched his fists tightly against his thighs.
"You were speaking the truth the entire time and I didn't believe you."
Ah, so that's why he was so angry. He was upset at himself. And as he should be, though Harry, just a trifle condescendingly. Snape should have realized.
"Yeah."
"I apologize, Mr. Potter. Had I known what was happening, I would have put a stop to it immediately. May I inquire as to why you didn't tell me?" asked Snape, simply curious as to what the reason had been. As it was obvious the boy hadn't felt he could tell him what was transpiring in his home.
Harry frowned. He didn't really want to make the man feel bad by giving him his answer, but he supposed he asked for it. "He threatened to hurt me more, for one…" he said shortly. "And he told me you wouldn't believe me if I told you…and I did believe that. Because you didn't believe me the first time I told you."
Snape nodded. "I thought Edwin was speaking the truth," he said softly. "That was my mistake. Something you won't have to worry about any longer."
Harry nodded too. "Okay," he said softly. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Certainly."
"Couldn't you tell with legilimency what was going on with him and me?" he asked determinedly.
Snape took in a deep breath. "Actually, I was attempting to not use it on you after you got so upset when I did it previously. I wanted to gain your trust, not destroy it."
Harry pursed his lips, nodding. "I noticed you weren't using it as often. But, didn't you ever use it on Kirkpatrick?"
"No, I never did. I didn't have any reason to see into his mind. And, unless he makes eye contact, it's rather difficult to see into his thoughts."
"Oh," said Harry, storing that little tidbit of information away for future reference.
"Where did Kirkpatrick go?" he suddenly asked, needing to know.
"He's in the village obtaining lodgings," said Snape.
Harry's eyes widened. "But…"
"He won't be coming back, Potter. The wards won't permit it as I've changed them just a moment ago. And, I've alerted the village's constable. He won't be staying for long, I'd ascertain. At least, not in comfortable lodgings. I'm certain the jail house will be slightly more uncomfortable."
"But, won't they need my testimony or something?" asked Harry.
"No. Because Edwin won't be able to help but tell the truth and with his own testimony, he'll be going to jail without yours," Snape replied with a small smirk.
"Oh, good then," said Harry softly.
"Do you believe you can come out for dinner now?"
"Yeah, I am a little hungry," Harry stood up from the bed and followed Snape into the kitchen, feeling as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders. He couldn't help but be curious as to how things would go between the two of them from now on, but hoped it wouldn't be as bad as before. He wanted to have a peaceful time now considering he was sick of being hurt and just wanted to rest. Harry was even willing to try to be less of a pain in the arse if things could just calm down.
He was ready to try.