A/N: Thank you for your comments, I am sorry about the wait. Enjoy~

Disclaimer: Still don't own Harry Potter...

"Blasted Muggle contraption," Severus muttered under his breath as his increasingly-arthritic fingers fiddled with the infuriating multicoloured cube.

Strictly abiding by Dumbledore's orders as she always did, Minerva had banished all traces of magic from their new home, apart from their wands. Severus' one small reprieve from the insufferable boredom came in the form of a 'Rubik's Cube.' If he could complete it, Minerva said she would permit basic experimentation, but at the rate he was going, Severus wouldn't be brewing anything until he was back at Hogwarts. Why Minerva suddenly thought she was in charge of the household was beyond him, but he had regretfully agreed to Dumbledore's no-magic policy, therefore he would keep his word.

Severus could see his colleague wasn't exactly having the time of her life either. She had taken to obsessively studying Muggle newspapers— they couldn't get the Prophet, as the owl post would have attracted unwanted attention— and when there was nothing of interest in their news, she would dully make her way into the kitchen and begin cooking whatever suited her fancy, determined to learn how to manually prepare a decent meal before the end of their summer holiday.

At last, Friday night arrived. The Dursleys and Potter were coming around five, giving Severus and Minerva the entire day to do…absolutely nothing. Again. The monotony was maddening, and they still had four to six weeks of this!

After spending much of his day Transfiguring objects at random, Severus was so startled by the knock at the door ten minutes prior to five that he nearly fell off of his chair. The inactivity was literally mind-numbing; it was only a matter of time before he broke down and started watching Muggle television…

"Severus, can you let them in?" Minerva asked in a strained voice. He glanced into the kitchen: as expected, black smoke was everywhere. Minerva was still trying to cook without using magic. Pathetic.

Pulling out his wand, Severus charged into the blazing inferno— or what felt like one, as Minerva had put the oven on much too high and the new toaster was rapidly overheating. A simple Cooling Charm would soon see to that.

Minerva glared at him when he came in, but he was undeterred. "You fetch our guests. I will clean up your mess."

"My, aren't you the gentleman?" Minerva snapped crossly before pulling out her own wand and siphoning the smoke out of the air. She roughly gestured for him to get the door, but he held his ground, no longer willing to allow her to order him around like some mongrel pup.

Her eyes narrowed at his blatant defiance, but after the umpteenth knock at the door, she stormed off to open it herself.

"Hello Petunia, Vernon," Minerva smiled as kindly as she could manage for the Dursleys. She could see Dudley's huge frame towering behind his mum, but Potter was nowhere in sight. She told Petunia to bring him; had she still refused to bring the boy out in public?

"Hello Dudley," Minerva said as the boy squeezed in between his parents, smelling the air hopefully.

"What do you say Diddy?" Petunia nudged her son, trying to get him to show some basic manners.

"Where's the food?" he mumbled, much to Minerva's amusement.

"Such a silly boy!" Petunia cried affectionately as she threw her arms around her son.

"Please come in."

The three Dursleys eagerly stepped into the hallway, leaving behind a lone, scrawny boy with cheap round glasses and untidy black hair. The Dursleys hadn't even bothered introducing him or mentioning that he was even present, and yet the boy had been standing behind Vernon the entire time, Minerva realized.

"You can come in, too," Minerva said in a constricted voice, trying not to focus on those memories of James and Lily's tragic deaths just ten years ago. Seeing the little baby that Dumbledore had left on the Dursleys' doorstop, now almost eleven years old, made her eyes tear up. His appearance hadn't changed much over the years, aside from the change in height, anyway. He looked a bit underfed under those layers of oversized clothing, but the bright green eyes Minerva had once seen in Lily were as lively as ever, even if his quiet personality didn't reflect that.

When Harry cautiously stepped through the door, Minerva gently placed her hand on his shoulder to lead him in, but pulled away when the boy flinched. Did he think she was going to hurt him…?

"Oh Madeline, this must have taken you hours to prepare!" Petunia gushed as the family entered the dining area. It seemed as though the Dursleys were still completely unaware of Harry's presence.

Minerva was stunned when she saw the table: Severus had cleaned up everything and set out a fantastic meal in just two minutes flat. Obviously he cheated, but she couldn't help admiring what could have taken a Muggle all day to create. The subtle Slytherin-themed tablecloth did not go unnoticed, of course, but she would allow it just this one time. For someone who had been to less than two formal parties in his entire life, Severus certainly had an eye for décor. If only he would do the same for his office and classroom…

One of the knives Severus had bewitched was pounding steadily on the cutting board in the kitchen, and the glasses refilled themselves when nobody was looking. The effort put into everything must have been amazing from a Muggle's point of view, but this was really just another average meal to anyone who had ever eaten at Hogwarts.

"Tobias," Minerva called out to him as she firmly reminded herself not to slip up and accidentally say 'Severus' in front of Petunia. "The Dursleys are here."

Thank you for informing me, Minerva, I couldn't have figured that out for myself, Severus thought irritably as he pocketed his wand and hurriedly forced down a rather large gulp of Polyjuice Potion. After stowing away the enchanted cooking utensils, he manually carried out a basket of ciabatta rolls and the margarine plate to make it seem as though he had prepared this entirely on his own.

Within three seconds, the basket fell to the floor, spewing out its contents onto the pristine white carpeting. That was when Severus saw him.

The boy was cowering behind Minerva, but Severus could see him much more clearly in this setting than in that musty old cupboard in the Dursleys' home. His vivid green eyes watched him suspiciously, wondering if he, 'Mr. Miller,' was a friend or foe. The explosion of messy black hair was not unexpected, as James' hair had been exactly the same. His clothes were ancient, frayed and greyed, and looked to be at least five sizes too big for him. His second-hand shoes were so worn and beat up that Severus couldn't have guessed what colour they were originally. The specks of blood on his socks were the most disturbing attributes to this fashion-incompetent child; some of the blood was dried, some of it was fresh. Where it had come from was anybody's guess. There were massive purple bruises on what little of the boy's neck Severus could see; much of his bare skin was concealed beneath a scarf, an odd sight during the summertime.

Severus glanced over at Minerva. She was clearly horrified by the boy's appearance, but was currently pretending to be thoroughly interested in Petunia's thoughtful inspection of their home. In front of him, Vernon's lips were moving, words probably directed at Severus, but he didn't hear a word the man was saying.

Overall, Potter was much plainer than he had initially expected. Given the arrogant show-off he had had for a father, Severus had been expecting a bit more from Potter appearance-wise, but was somewhat cheered by the fact that the Boy-Who-Lived really wasn't all that spectacular to look at. The long, lightning-bolt scar stuck out oddly on the boy's otherwise pale and unblemished forehead; that must have been where the Killing Curse had hit and inexplicably failed to murder him. In spite of himself, Severus was intrigued by the strange mark.

Just as Petunia began obnoxiously shuffling through a large pile of their magazines—several issues of Transfiguration Today were at the bottom— Minerva cleared her throat loudly. "This must be Harry, yes?"

The Dursleys turned around and gaped at her and Harry, as though realizing for the first time that he had come along to the Millers' house.

"How'd you know his name?" Dudley grunted as he picked a few rolls off of the ground by Severus' feet and greedily stuffed them into his mouth. Severus desperately wanted to smack the child for being such a gluttonous pig, but reluctantly refrained from doing so once he remembered that he was no longer the strict disciplinarian, Severus Snape, but the child-loving, happily-married Muggle scientist, Tobias Miller.

"Your mother told me, dear," Minerva replied smoothly, knowing that she had seriously slipped up. "Shall we eat before the food spoils?"

At the mention of 'food,' Dudley was all ears. He nearly crushed the chair in excitement as he sat down and began stuffing various forkfuls of each entrée into his mouth; his parents did absolutely nothing to stop their son from eating nearly everything on the table. Harry only sat down when Minerva prodded him to, and he only started eating once his aunt and uncle were too distracted by the neighbours to notice him tentatively reaching out for something to silence the rarely-fed monster in his stomach.

"You can have more, there's plenty left," Minerva encouraged Harry after he only took a tiny spoonful of the exquisite French soup.

"Nonsense," Petunia spat, glaring at Harry as she spoke. "He has enough."

Harry did not question his aunt and shyly refused any further offers of food from Minerva, who was growing more and more concerned with his wellbeing the longer she was around his relatives.

Dudley's tongue was like a conveyor belt at a factory: big and never-slowing. Harry was so hungry that he eventually couldn't help but follow suit; only when Vernon yelled at him to slow down and show some proper manners did he put his fork down and hesitantly proclaim that he was full. Vernon and Petunia said nothing to Dudley, who continued to plough through each course like a high-speed freight train for a solid half hour until there was simply nothing left for him to eat.

Dessert was treacle tart and ice cream. Severus, who hated sugar— and most other foods for that matter— had none, and Harry, whose reflexes were slower than his cousin's when it came to afters, also had none.

A bubble of rage welled up in Minerva that had nothing to do with desserts, but rather the deliberate favouritism the Dursleys displayed toward Dudley. How could they treat a boy, their own nephew, with such indifference and spitefulness? The boy, who had lost what would have been kind and loving parents, was being treated like filth by his own relatives. Minerva was furious.

Severus, on the other hand, was wholly unaffected by Potter's predicament. He himself had been subjected to similar treatment as a boy and nobody had come to his rescue— why should Potter be any different? Life's struggles had taught Severus things James Potter never knew, having been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Perhaps this generation's Potter would know to obey his authorities and respect his peers. If that was the case, Severus saw no reason to help the boy.

"He's quite a bully," Vernon informed Severus after dinner, when he had asked about Potter's bruised neck. "Vicious child, really. If it weren't for him being Petunia's…well, let's just say he would have been thrown in the mad house by now."

"Him being Petunia's…what exactly?" Severus inquired, feigning cluelessness, as he knew fully well that Vernon had been about to say "sister's son."

Vernon mumbled something under his breath that he couldn't hear nor understand, but it didn't matter either way.

"How did you get that interesting scar?" Severus could hear his colleague— erm, wife— asking Potter in the sitting room, followed by several rather pathetic excuses from a very flustered Petunia.

"Car crash," Harry whispered to who he thought was Mrs. Miller under the intense glare of his aunt. As he spoke, he unconsciously rubbed the lightning bolt, wondering why he didn't have more scars if the crash had really been as terrible as his relatives said it was…

"Happened many years ago, that's how he lost his parents," Petunia said hurriedly. Minerva was startled by the lack of any grief or sadness in her voice, but Severus, who was listening closely from the kitchen, knew not to expect much remorse from Petunia regarding her sister's death. Lying to the boy about how they died, though…that almost made him a little angry…

"So, as I was saying about Dudley…" Petunia instantly brought the conversation back to her own precious son, as talking about the boy only made her want to strangle him more. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why the Millers were so interested in Harry; did they actually enjoy speaking with mentally deranged children, or was she not doing a good enough job of showing them what an angel Diddykins was compared to Harry?

Then again, she had to appreciate the obvious distaste Tobias expressed for the boy. Perhaps she was getting through to him, but Madeline was still fascinated by Harry, and quite frankly, it disturbed Petunia.

The Dursleys finally left at ten o'clock. Minerva was immensely relieved by their departure, as was Severus, who was pleased to see that Minerva hadn't detected his usage of the Confundus Charm on Dudley Dursley, who had been the one to convince his parents to leave.

It had been a horrible night full of meaningless conversations about business and drills, flowers and the local Muggle gossip. Minerva couldn't help but compare Petunia with the Daily Prophet's newest reporter, Rita Skeeter, who knew as many dirty details about the happenings in the Wizarding world as Petunia did the Muggle world.

"I told Albus not to send Potter there," Minerva muttered once the Dursleys had gone. "Did you see his neck? The bruises!"

"Since when does Dumbledore listen to anyone but himself?" Severus asked, ignoring her concerns about the boy's neck. Yes, he had noticed it, but discussing the abuses inflicted upon him might make it seem as though Severus actually cared about the boy. He shuddered at the thought.

Minerva sighed resignedly. She watched his hair go from light sandy brown back to black, and his stomach bulge disappeared, giving him the appearance of a decaying skeleton.

"Deny it all you want Severus, but I think you are worried about him," she said quietly. He didn't look up from the Muggle publication he was supposedly reading: Healthy Living for Active Women. She knew he could hear her, but he didn't respond. He didn't want to care. If he showed any compassion toward the boy, Minerva would think he was softening, and he would not allow her to think that. Not of him.

Dumbledore said to spy on their neighbours, nothing more. And Severus would do just that.

xXxXxXxXx

Just ignore him…he'll stop crying soon…it's probably not even him, just leave it be…he'll stop soon…

But Potter's muffled sobs did not stop.

Severus was growing rather tired of his neighbours disrupting his sleep with the boy's nightly beatings, and if they didn't end soon, he swore he would go to extreme measures for a good night's rest. Minerva's Silencing Charms were obviously working for her, but for some unknown reason, Potter's persistent whimpering was able to penetrate every Silencio Severus cast on his room.

Why the boy was outside in their yard while the rest of his family snored away peacefully within the confines of their darkened home, Severus didn't know. Had someone forgot to let Potter in at night, or was he thrown out? He wondered if the other neighbours could hear him. If they did, they weren't doing anything about it. Were they simply accustomed to this by now, or did they really not care at all?

Grabbing his wand from underneath his pillow, Severus quietly crept out of bed and peered out the window.

Potter was lying on his back on the dewy grass in a painfully contorted position. One of his legs was bending the wrong way and swelling up like a balloon, and Severus could see shiny crimson blood trickling down either sides of his face. A child's suffering was a familiar sight to him, but at least there was always Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts. Here, Potter had no one. His relatives didn't even notice how badly injured the boy was, let alone take him to a hospital, though Severus suspected this was because they were the reason he had ended up like this. Why didn't anyone alert the authorities?!

Knowing this would be breaching his vow not to help Potter in any way, shape or form, but desperately craving sleep, Severus pulled on the one robe Minerva hadn't Transfigured into Muggle clothes and with a crack, he was gone. The next second, he was hiding in the bushes near the Dursleys' back fence, watching the boy writhe on the ground in agony, as though hit by a Cruciatus Curse that would have made even Bellatrix Lestrange proud.

Although he was fully aware that he had forgotten his Polyjuice Potion, Severus continued on toward the boy. Potter's cries had finally quieted, but he had come this far; healing the boy would only take a minute or two of his precious time…

Potter's eyes widened when he finally noticed Severus. He didn't say anything, he merely stared up at his saviour, the dark knight in billowing black robes, face obscured by curtains of long black hair, and a thin stick in his hand. Severus knew the boy was probably puzzled as to where he had come from, but if the boy wouldn't speak, then neither would he.

He immediately set to work on the worst injury, the boy's badly mangled and horrendously swollen leg. He did not say the incantations aloud, and he found himself rather enjoying Potter's astonishment. The boy had clearly never seen anyone performing actual magic before, and Severus was free to do so, as the boy was not a Muggle and Dumbledore's only request had been not to use magic around Muggles. He had said nothing about Potter, except that he and Minerva weren't allowed to tell him about Hogwarts until the thirty-first of July, Potter's eleventh birthday.

Severus finished in three minutes. Potter did not sit up, he seemed too shocked to do anything but stare up at Severus.

Unlocking the back door with just a mere flick of the wand, Severus pointed at it, silently telling the boy to go inside. He couldn't possibly bring Potter back with him, as his 'Mr. Miller' identity would be destroyed. No, the boy must return home.

Severus expected the boy to rebel, to tell him he was never going back to those wretched people ever again, but to Severus' mild surprise, Potter shakily got to his feet did as he was told. The boy glanced over his shoulder every step or two, having a million questions for this mysterious man but unable to find the voice to ask them. Once inside, he shut the door behind him, but continued watching as the man returned to the shadows.

Only five more weeks, Potter, Severus thought grimly as he Apparated back into his room. He could only hope that this would be the last time Potter needed his help.

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