Upon entering the kitchen, Harry immediately sat in the chair facing the window

Upon entering the kitchen, Harry immediately sat in the chair facing the window. The moon was out and illuminating the lighthouse and the cliffs just beyond it. It really was quite beautiful here. Too bad he hadn't had a chance to really appreciate it.

Looking up, Harry realized Snape was no longer in the kitchen. Curious, he stood up to look out the doorway and down the hall when the man suddenly reappeared. "Have a seat, Mr. Potter," Snape instructed, handing him a jar containing what appeared to be a healing potion.

"What's this for?" asked Harry.

"Apply it to your cheek. There is a bruise forming there," his Professor informed him, so Harry opened the jar and took a glob out onto his palm.

"Not quite so much. A few dabs will be more than sufficient," Snape corrected him.

Harry wiped the excess on the edge of the jar and watched as it plopped back into the contents of it. Then he rubbed the remainder on his hand onto his cheek. Upon touching the bruised area Harry flinched at the pain. It was odd that he hadn't really felt it until then.

As Harry was closing the jar, he nearly came out of his skin as Snape suddenly reached across the table and undid the top of his robe, revealing his swollen and no doubt much bruised neck. The man's eyes widened remarkably causing Harry to lower his head in shame.

A strong hand gently grasped his chin and tilted his head until his neck was once more visible. Harry couldn't meet the man's eyes, still feeling too low to so much as look at him. He didn't know why he felt so ashamed. It wasn't as if it was his fault. But, he felt as if he should have somehow been able to stop Kirkpatrick. But, the more he thought on it, the more he did know that it was partly his fault, seeing as how he hadn't exactly been cooperative with either of the men. He was honestly surprised Snape hadn't resorted to the same abusive tendencies. He was just happy that he hadn't.

"What happened while I was away?" he asked tentatively. He opened the jar again and motioned for Harry to apply some to his tender neck as well. When he apparently missed a spot, Snape scooped a bit onto his fingers and rubbed it in himself. It was all Harry could do not to flinch from the touch, and it was obvious Snape saw the fearful look in his eyes as well. "You never have to fear me, Potter. Unlike that dastardly man in my employ, I will never strike a child. You have my word on that."

Harry nodded his head after a moment of contemplation. If the man had wanted to hit him, he'd had ample opportunity since Harry had arrived, as he knew he'd been no peach to live with.

"Potter, what happened?" he repeated. "Obviously, Edwin strangled you. I saw that for myself in your bedroom. But, I get the distinct impression those bruises were from more than one incident. You and I both know you weren't sick, either. I assume Edwin made up the lie that you were ill?" asked Snape, hoping to get the floodgates to open.

"Well, yeah…" he started slowly. Staring at his hands for a moment, Harry tried to decide whether he truly wanted to divulge all this information to his professor. It wasn't as if he would care or anything. So what was the point? And in a warped little way, Harry sort of blamed Snape for what had happened to him. If he hadn't left him alone with Kirkpatrick, he wouldn't be the way he was right now. It wasn't exactly enjoyable to feel constantly on edge, afraid all the time, worried about what insanity Kirkpatrick was going to come up with next. It didn't help that Kirkpatrick was gone; he still felt the same way. And Snape had left him alone.

Slowly letting out the breath he had been holding, Harry glanced up to his teacher. And damn it all if the man didn't look at least a little bit concerned. "I…" again he cut himself off. This was proving to be more difficult than he thought it should be.

"If it is too difficult to speak of, and if you're amendable to the idea, I could use legilimency," suggested Snape hesitantly. As if he honestly didn't want to use the ability on him unless Harry absolutely agreed to it.

The concept was actually a bit hard for Harry to grasp. That Snape would even be hesitant in regards to using legilimency, considering he'd shown no compassion at all when he'd previously delved into his head without permission. Harry did in fact realize that Snape had taken it upon himself to restrict his use of the ability due to his own wish for Snape to stop attacking him with it, because that was certainly what it felt like. An attack. And now that he was asking permission…it just showed how much Snape was really trying. And it made Harry feel a teensy bit bad considering his earlier thoughts. But just barely.

Harry really weighed the pros and cons of having the man examine his head the way he wanted to. There were certainly memories he didn't want his teacher to see. Though, he had to wonder if Snape hadn't already seen them. It didn't really matter one way or the other, though, did it? If Snape wanted to find out what happened, he would find a way. Besides, would it be wrong of Harry to sort of want to tell Snape just to make him feel bad? He thought it was mean of him, but in another sense, he still thought his professor should have protected him more than he had.

Only feeling slightly guilty about it, Harry made his decision. "Yeah, go ahead and do the mind reading thing," he whispered, just a little bit apprehensive despite his motives.

Without further ado, it seemed, Snape pulled his chair closer to Harry's until their knees were practically touching. His attention momentarily focused on his professor's pants. They were black, which wasn't much of a shock, and they looked well worn. Were his shirts the same color, he wondered. His robes hid that much and Harry honestly couldn't be certain. For all he knew, the man wore brightly colored undershirts beneath his robes. At the image that came to mind, however, Harry grimaced. It actually wasn't a pleasant thought.

"Potter," said gently but firmly. "Are you prepared? Don't fight the intrusion, difficult as that may be, but merely let me in. I'll attempt to make this as quick as possible. Ready?" he asked. Harry expected the man to jump right in, but he actually waited until the boy nodded his head before proceeding. Once more, Harry felt a smidgeon of guilt for wanting to make his teacher feel guilty.

Any other thoughts were dismissed when he suddenly felt Snape entering his mind, his thoughts, and thereby the memories of what had transpired in the basement. Not a pleasant experience by any stretch of the imagination, but he remembered that Snape had told him not to fight the intrusion. Yeah, easier said than done. It took everything in him not to fight back and try to shove the intrusion from his thoughts. But he didn't. He did actually want the older man to see what had happened to him.

Oddly enough, Harry found himself occasionally feeling a flash of Snape's feelings as he was viewing the scenes from his memories from when he'd been away…and left him alone with Kirkpatrick. A sudden sense of shock that was not his own was the first sign he'd gotten that he wasn't feeling his own feeling's but Snape's. Quite interesting, really. Especially when he knew what memories were causing them. It was the strangulation portion of his memories that caused a shocked and mildly disturbed emotion to filter through to Harry's consciousness, emanating from the Professor. The man honestly hadn't realized he'd been housing a psycho who not only enjoyed abusing children, but also had a crush on his landlord. Gross.

When Snape had perused all of Harry's memories involving Kirkpatrick he pulled out of Harry's memories and sat quietly in his chair. Harry assumed the man was contemplating all that he had witnessed.

"I had not realized, truly, the depth of his depravity," Snape said slowly, as if coming out of a dream. Which, Harry supposed, that was probably what it felt like. "What I witnessed in your bedroom…I assumed it was the worst of it, a one time occurrence…that Edwin had been overcome with some fit of rage. I had no idea…" he trailed off, something Harry noticed the man was doing quite a lot as he tried to come to terms with the entire thing. Simply stated, Harry wasn't sure where Snape was going with this.

"What, did you think I'd set him off or something?" he asked, truly wondering. Honestly, did he think it was Harry's fault? Because, he'd been sort of contemplating the same thing.

"Well, the thought had crossed my mind," said Snape gently. "You haven't exactly been the epitome of a well behaved child while you've been here."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I know that. But, I didn't do anything to really piss him off," he started. "At least, not in the way I normally would. I mean, I'm sure I piss…"

"Potter, stop saying pissed," interrupted Snape.

Taking the rebuke in stride, which surprised the hell out of Snape, Harry kept talking as if he hadn't ever been interrupted, "Sorry. I know I made him angry though, because I told him…" he trailed off this time, knowing it was probably a touchy subject for the man. The part he figured that had really made Kirkpatrick lose his bloody head.

"I know what you told him," assured Snape. "That you meant to tell me what had been transpiring between the two of you. And how he felt about me," Snape summed it up in a nutshell, but with a queasy look on his face.

Harry nodded, a tinge of embarrassment making his face flame lightly. It was very odd talking about this with his professor. More so than he probably realized. Though, considering Snape had been on the receiving end of the man's 'love', Harry figured Snape was pretty well mortified himself.

As if to get them on another subject, Snape started prodding him with his wand. "Are you injured anywhere else?" he asked, waving his wand around Harry's body.

"N-no, why?" asked Harry, watching as the tip of the wand glowed as it passed over certain parts of his body.

"You took quite a few severe hits from the man, that's why," said Snape angrily, though Harry could somehow tell that his professor wasn't angry at him. "And I'm surprised you're not complaining more about your back. It's rather bruised from the fall you took."

Harry knew when the man stood up and walked around him what he had in mind, but he still flinched slightly as he felt his t-shirt pulled up.

"All right, Potter?" his shirt was mid-way up his back and he could tell that Snape wouldn't go any further until he had his permission, like before with the legilimency. It didn't really matter if he even gave his permission, though, because Harry was beginning to realize that he was having some issues letting people near him. He knew it was Kirkpatrick's fault. The ruddy bastard. He wasn't like this…well, he wasn't like this as much…before Kirkpatrick's stupid arse came in the picture.

"Did I hurt you?" Snape prodded when an answer wasn't forthcoming.

"No, no, I'm fine," he said, pulling himself from his thoughts. He really had to quit doing that. He thought too damn much.

"You're certain?" Snape said it like he didn't believe him, and Harry couldn't really summon the energy to care.

"Yeah, sure, I'm good." Yeah, that didn't sound as if he were lying…no, not at all. Hearing a noise from Snape that clearly showed he didn't believe him for a second made Harry fidget just a bit, wondering when the other shoe would drop. But, to Harry's relief, he didn't question him further. At least, not about the flinching.

"Potter, you have a mass of bruises on your back," he said dryly. "Is there a reason you would not tell me about them when I had the healing potion out earlier?"

Harry shrugged. He was used to not complaining. It just came as second nature to him. Why complain when nothing would be done about it? He'd fallen and scraped the holy hell out of his hands, knees, and even his chin when he had been the wee age of five. It was probably the most pronounced memory he had because it was the first time he'd seriously injured himself…for one…and for two, he'd realized just how much his family didn't give a damn about him. He'd been bleeding pretty profusely at the time and he'd gone straight to his aunt, hoping that the woman would actually show some emotion towards him considering he was seriously hurt. At least, to his five year old mind he was seriously hurt. She always doubled her emotional outbursts whenever Dudley was injured, so he had figured that since she didn't show him any love and affection when he was his normal self, he should at least get some sort of positive attention out of her if he was injured.

Yeah, not so much. It was the exact opposite, really. She'd gotten royally flaming pissed at him was what happened. Quite the opposite of what young little Harry had been expecting, he thought wryly. Instead of compassion or any kind of care due to his wounds, his aunt had grabbed his wrists and wrapped them in her apron of all things, screaming at him all the while for getting blood all over the kitchen floor. She continued with her less than caring behavior by smacking him upside the head, calling him a worthless brat of a child, apparently because he couldn't stop the bleeding before he'd come inside, and proceeded to drag him up to the bathroom where she finally tended to his wounds. However, gentle wasn't the word Harry would use for how she cleaned them. He still cringed even now as he thought about the cold alcohol as she poured it over his hands, knees, and tilting his head back so hard his neck had hurt, his chin. All this while he stood bawling in the bath tub.

It wasn't a pleasant memory and even then, at that young age, he'd realized he would never be loved or cared for. He learned no one would be there for him when he needed them. He found out he would have to take care of himself because no one else ever would. So Snape wondered why he hadn't told him he was in pain and that he had more than one set of bruises on his body. That was the answer.

"Potter?" Snape was standing in front of him now, holding both his shoulders in his hands, and looking so much like a concerned parent that Harry almost laughed. Like that would ever happen. "Are you quite all right?" he asked, apparently for the tenth time, because he certainly looked on the cusp of shaking him. "Potter!"

That broke Harry out of his temporary trance into his crummy past. "What?!" he yelled in return, and while he was at it, he shook his shoulders until the man released him.

Snape took a step away and brushed down the front of his shirt and pants as he stood up straight, almost as if he were composing himself. "You were not responding," he said shortly. "And refrain from using that tone with me," he added a moment later.

"What tone?" asked Harry in the same tone he'd been using previously. After having to relive his memories of Kirkpatrick's abuse and then remembering what his aunt had done to him, Harry suddenly found he was reverting back to his angry self again. He didn't really know why, but he found it was the easiest way to cope with a situation. Especially considering the person he was yelling at usually sent him away sooner rather than later.

And in this case, it looked like it was going to be later.

"Sit down," said Snape.

"No," returned Harry, making his way for the door. If he wasn't going to be sent to his room, he'd send himself there. It'd be quicker any ways.

However, the locked door was kind of hindering this idea. "Let me out," he hissed, turning slowly around to face his sudden nemesis. "I want out!"

"I honestly don't care what you want right now, Mr. Potter. We're going to discuss your destructive behavior whether you wish it or not." And apparently Snape was reverting back to his 'I'm a bad ass' self. Harry hadn't realized how nice the man had been until just now.

"And I don't care what you want!" he spat back. "Let me out!"

"Sit down," Snape repeated, his face conveying that he was trying to remain calm, but his clenched fists showed that he was rather on the opposite spectrum from that.

"I don't want to!"

"Potter, you have more issues than you know how to handle. If you don't discuss them, you won't deal with them, thereby becoming an even larger pain in my arse than you already are! Now, sit down so that we might confer!"

Harry stopped, so shocked by the words that had come out of Snape's mouth that he actually didn't have a scathing reply at the ready. He obviously knew that he was a pain in the arse, but to actually hear Snape say it. That was interesting. He must be pushing a bit harder than he realized he was. In which case, he figured he was that much closer to Snape giving up and letting him leave.

Turning around, he pulled on the door knob again, expecting results but once more not receiving them. "Just let me out!" he yelled, still pulling on the door and therefore not noticing that Snape had come up right behind him. A hand was placed on his shoulder, but unfortunately, it was placed too close to his neck and with a little more force than Harry could currently handle. And he'd been strangled once too many times to even be close to handling it. A scream pierced the room; one he wouldn't realize was his until later, as he suddenly flung his arm up and knocked the offending hand away. His footsteps stuttered backwards until he hit the wall, and even then he kept moving, trying to put as much distance between himself and his attacker as possible.

Once he finally reached a suitably safe corner, Harry slid down the wall and into the crevice, holding his legs tight to his chest. It took nearly five minutes before Harry finally stopped trembling. He noticed because the plates in the cupboard beside him had stopped rattling. It took another few minutes of Snape's calm assurances before he could even manage to bring himself out from his seemingly safe place. And even after that he'd have strange moments when he was just certain that Kirkpatrick was somewhere in the house with them. His anger resurfaced, but just for a moment, and presented itself by Harry kicking out at the chair that was in front of him. It faded after that, and he realized he was more upset at himself for completely losing it than anything else.

After having the life thoroughly scared right on out of him, Harry was more than willing to sit down. But not so willing to talk.

He ran a trembling hand through his hair and glanced up long enough to see that Snape was sitting in the chair he'd kicked just a moment before, staring at him. Harry quickly looked down, feeling a teensy bit embarrassed now that he was calmer. "I'm still not going to talk," he said petulantly. Or he tried to sound petulant, but his cracking voice made him sound a lot more vulnerable than he had intended.

"Very well," he responded and Harry looked up suspiciously. He'd given that up a hell of a lot easier than Harry thought was possible given the whole 'We're going to discuss your destructive behavior whether you wish it or not' attitude he'd had going on earlier.

"Very well?" returned Harry curiously. His voice still sounded too shaky for comfort, but it wasn't as if that had been a comforting experience he'd just had. In fact, he had probably more than earned the shaky voice.

"Yes, you're obviously not ready and I apologize. Your encounter with Edwin…"

"Would you stop calling him Edwin!" Harry suddenly shrieked. "It's like you're still friends with him or something! Like what he did to me doesn't even matter! Once I'm gone you'll probably let him come right back, won't you?" he asked, before being hit with an even more disturbing idea. "Or is he even gone?!" his voice rising as his paranoia increased. "He's been your friend for what, forever? Why would you send him away? I bet you didn't even tell the constable…"

Snape grabbed his arms, but having seen him coming, Harry didn't react quite the way he did before. But just the same…flinching, he tried to pull away but his professor was surprisingly strong, and surprisingly gentle given the circumstances.

"Potter, for the love of Merlin, calm yourself!"

"I am calm!" he said back, however hysterical he might have been.

Snape rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Potter," he said very gently, which actually garnered Harry's attention more fully than had he yelled it like previously.

"What?"

"Kirkpatrick," he began, really emphasizing the term he had used, "will not be returning here, even long after you've gone. Furthermore, though he was my friend once, he is no longer. What he did to you is unforgivable and he will never be permitted on my land again," he said adamantly. "Whether you believe that or not is up to you, but you have my word."

Harry stared at him for a few moments and was rather surprised at himself when he believed the man.

"You're being a lot nicer about this whole thing than I thought you would be," said Harry suddenly.

Snape just stared at him. "I hardly think my usual dour self would be sufficient in your healing, Mr. Potter."

"Healing?" asked Harry dubiously.

"Certainly. You're suffering from survivor's guilt, depression, disassociation, and most recently, child abuse."

Harry shifted in his seat. "You make me sound like some kind of head case," he said uncertainly. "Survivor's guilt?" he asked, thinking the name sounded about dead on to what he was feeling. "Because of Cedric?" he continued softly.

"Yes," Snape stood up from the seat he had reclaimed after Harry's impromptu panic attack and moved closer to the boy. "I also think that is part of why you're so angry all the time."

Harry nodded. "I don't think I'm depressed though," he added a moment later.

"You don't? There's more to depression than just melancholy. I think you're mainly expressing it through your anger, however. And, perhaps I'm wrong. I'm not a certified therapist or any such thing, however, some of your behavior hinted at it. Pushing away your friends when classes were still in session for example."

At the mention of his friends Harry suddenly felt ten times worse. He actually hadn't thought about them at all the entire time he'd been here. He'd either been too angry, irritated, or afraid to even give them a moment's notice. It made him feel awful. Harry sighed. "I'm not sure why I did that," he said a moment later. "I guess I just wanted to distance myself from them."

"Yes, I noticed," said Snape dryly.

Harry glared at him. "What else was I supposed to do? They were too pushy! I wasn't ready to talk to them. Kind of like I'm not ready to talk to you," he said, but he wasn't exactly angry. He wasn't sure how he felt, honestly.

Snape finally seemed to take the hint. It was about damn time, too.

"Then we won't discuss anything more this evening. It's getting rather late, besides. Perhaps you should turn in for the evening given the more than stressful day you've had."

Harry agreed with that whole-heartedly. He felt beyond tired, actually. Like he could pass out as soon as his head hit the pillow…so long as there were no nightmares, that was a given. He thought about asking Snape for some Dreamless Sleep, but didn't want to start another drawn out conversation on why he needed it.

Taking the opportunity given to him, Harry said goodnight to the man and quickly walked down the hallway to his bedroom. His door was ajar, though he normally kept it shut. Though, he couldn't remember shutting it when he and Snape had left his room. He wondered why his tired brain even cared and slipped into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

Changing out of his clothes and into his pajamas, Harry climbed into his bed and found himself staring at the ceiling. He noticed a moment later that his back didn't hurt, though he thought it should considering his back was bruised like crazy. Sitting up, he walked over to the closet and pulled open the door to reveal the mirror that was dangling on the inside of it. Turning around, he gently raised his shirt and stared at his completely flawless back. It finally occurred to Harry that while he had been in his own little world thinking about his stupid aunt, Snape must have applied the healing potion and he just hadn't noticed.

He dropped his shirt at a knock on the door. "Come in," he said, knowing it could be only one person and it wasn't as if he could honestly keep him out. And, after he saw that Snape had healed him, he was feeling just a little bit generous any ways.

"I thought you might need this," Snape came the rest of the way into his room and sat a bottle on his nightstand. Dreamless Sleep. As the door shut lightly behind the man Harry found a small smile finally working its way across his face. The first one in a long time.

Apparently Professor Snape was feeling a little generous himself.

………………………………………………….