A/N: So, I reread that last chapter and I have to say that it was complete and utter crap. I'm sorry D': I'll try to make this one better! Anyway, thanks to those that follow all the chapters, regardless of how bad they turn out. Again, I own absolutely nothing.

Chapter 5: Dishabiliophobia

Feeling his arm and back muscles screaming in protest, Severus Snape eased the small student in his grasp onto the battered old loveseat in the living room of his quarters. Although Horace had taken his position as Potion's Master, Severus had kept his living quarters at Dumbledore's request so he would be close to the house of which he was head, and he had to admit- after spending not only 15 years as a teacher in the dungeons but also having called them home as a student, he did not mind staying where he was.

The trek back from the Potions' classroom had been short and to Severus' delight, uneventful. Due to the late hour and the general avoidance of the dungeons by all except for his own students, he had not expected to encounter any others on the short walk back to his quarters. Severus had made sure that his students knew well that if he caught them out of bed after hours they would be figuratively skinned alive, and he was always certain to make an example out of those who chose to violate the rules anyway. He would never, of course, harm one of his students and to a degree he tried to make sure that the punishment was fair to the crime, however Severus was strict, for he was completely aware of how volatile some of his children could be if they were not kept on a short leash.

Standing up straight, he grimaced at his aching back. As much as his muscles hurt, he knew that they did not hurt enough. He had never been a particularly strong man, having spent nearly all of his childhood and teenage years buried in books and although he had grown to be decently tall, he had always been on the thinner side of the spectrum. What bothered Severus more than the pain he was in from carrying Harry was how relatively easy the task had been. Judging by how old the boy was combined with his average height, he should have been heavier in his arms. Much heavier.

Going back to the shivering boy lying in front of him, Severus set to work gathering up medicinal potions appropriate for Potter's symptoms and getting his student in a more comfortable state for the night.

Browsing along his personal shelves of potions, he selected out a few vials containing fever reducers, stomach settlers, and a muscle relaxer. He decided that if he was going to cure Potter of his ills, he might as well take care of everything that might possibly be ailing the boy. Going back over to the side of the small couch, Severus lifted Harry's chin and one by one poured each other carefully into the boy's slightly ajar mouth. After waiting for several minutes, he felt his forehead and, satisfied with the cooler temperature and halt of his shivers, Severus felt confident enough to change Harry out of his uniform before wrapping the boy up and getting ready for sleep himself.

Wordlessly, Severus summoned one of his night shirts from inside his bedroom and began untying the boy's shoes, removing them. Deciding that changing his pants would be far too awkward for both men, Severus instead took the night shirt in his lap and made up his mind that getting Harry out of his sweat-soaked shirt and robe would be enough.

'I can't believe I'm even doing this much…Damned Potter.'

Slipping off the boy's tie and robe, Severus unbuttoned Harry's shirt before halting. He now understood why carrying the child had been so easy.

Harry's exposed chest and stomach were a pitiful sight to behold. The skin across his chest was stretched taut against his rib cage which sloped gracefully into the boy's slightly caved in stomach. Severus' eyebrows quirked as he laid a hand against the skeletal frame before him.

Was the boy starving himself? Considering the actions he had observed at dinner, the notion wouldn't have surprised the young teacher. But what reason would he have for doing such a thing?

'Knowing Potter's arrogance he's probably putting himself through some kind of hunger strike because the Prophet isn't reporting on him every other day…'

As much as he would have liked to have entertained that notion, the reasonable and intelligent side of him would not let that idea stay in his head long. If that had indeed been the case, then the boy probably would not have bothered to hide to from his friends the fact that he was not eating. However, Harry had allowed Weasley and Granger's attempts to feed him, and had eaten roughly half of the portions that had been forced onto his plate.

Could the boy possibly be suffering from some kind of anorexia? Severus frowned. He had had experience with this kind of thing with a few students from varying houses over the course of his teaching career, though he had to admit, he knew little about the causes of such an affliction. Due to his keen sense of those around him and fluxes in magical abilities which had been honed during his spy years, Severus was usually the first teacher to notice when something was internally wrong with a student. However, if he did happen to discover anything of that nature, the student was handed over to Madame Pomfrey and he heard little more about it. This would definitely be something he would inquire Potter about when the boy woke up.

Carefully leaning the boy forward, Severus tugged Harry's limp arms out from the sleeves of his shirt and removed the article of clothing altogether. For once, his tight control over his features fell and he gasped in shock.

Criss-crossing the boy's back were long, thick scars of varying age, accompanied by other wounds that appeared to be relatively fresh. Slowly moving a hand over the boy's exposed back, Severus gently ran a finger over the one of the more prominent scars he saw. The scar appeared to be one of the older ones, and was hard and knotted to the touch. The older man recoiled at the feel of it, his hand ghosting unconsciously to his own shoulder. So he and Potter had something in common after all.

All of a sudden Severus felt something cold begin to run down the hand that had been holding the boy upright. He wrinkled his nose upon realizing what it was.

Blood.

Shifting the boy around as he had been had resulted in enough stretching in the boy's already taut skin to cause some of the newer gashes to split and bleed openly. Taking out his wand, Severus tapped the tip against Harry's back and muttered Vulnera Sanentur, effectively closing the wounds to leave only faint pink scars. He smirked faintly to himself.

'To think I'm using my own counter-curse on the son of James Potter WITHOUT my being the cause of his injuries…'

Quietly, Severus pulled his own night shirt over his student, laid the boy back down onto the loveseat, and covered him with a thick blanket before settling himself down into a comfortable but rickety rocking chair, which was the only other piece of furniture in the small living room. He sat silently for several minutes before summoning over a bottle of mead and a short glass. Severus was not normally a heavy drinker, but considering the events that had taken place in the past few hours, he felt that he deserved a few drinks to help himself re-gather his non-chalant demeanor.

Sipping on his now full glass of cognac, he watched as Harry began to mutter softly in his sleep. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. This was going to be a long night…

Harry awoke with a shiver. Blearily opening his eyes, he came to the slow realization that he was not in his four post bed. In fact, he was not in Gryffindor Tower at all. He jolted up, his mind flying into full alertness.

Where was he? Where was the last place he could remember being? How had he gotten to wherever he was? Was there anyone else here? What had happened to him while he was unconscious? He shuttered as he thought of all the worst possibilities of his last question. The last thing he could remember was being in his detention with Snape. Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to relax and take in his surroundings. He froze as he spotted the figure beside him.

It was none other than the overgrown bat of the dungeons, Severus Snape himself.

The man was seated deeply in an old rocking chair, his head nestled into his chest. Soft expulsions of air were coming in a steady in and out from his slightly parted lips. It was a sight Harry never thought he would see; Snape was sleeping.

The teenager crept closer to observe the man before freezing; The fabric ruffling against his torso was not the article of clothing that he had had on when he passed out. He looked down at the soft, old night shirt that hung loosely on his depraved frame and realized that, with horror, the shirt could only belong to the Potions Master.

Harry could feel himself reeling.

'How much of me did Snape see? There's no way the git would care enough to actually undress and redress me, I don't have anything to worry about!' Harry bit his lip. 'What if he did?'

Feeling his face heat up in embarrassment, he crawled to the opposite end of the bed and began to stuff his feet into his shoes. He did not want to be around when Snape woke up, despite knowing full well that the man would skin him later for his ungratefulness. He just couldn't face his professor before he had time to think the situation over. He needed time to prepare his excuses. Thankfully, he noticed that Snape had chosen not to change his pants and would therefore not have seen his leg… That at least was a relief.

Gathering up his clothes and his school bag which luckily Snape had left by the couch, Harry crept quietly towards the door to his freedom.

"So, it seems that the Golden Boy is too good to show any appreciation."

Harry felt his stomach leap into his throat as his hand landed on the doorknob. The silky voice was much closer than it should have been…

Whipping around, Harry smacked directly into the broad chest of his professor before falling back into the still closed door. Snape wrinkled his nose and hoisted the boy back up by the scruff of his neck.

"Pr-professor," Harry sputtered, "I was just going back t-"

"No, Mr. Potter, I daresay you aren't going anywhere."

Not letting go of Harry's neck, Snape drug the boy back over to the loveseat in the center of the room.

"Sit," he commanded sternly.

Knowing better than to argue at this point, Harry dejectedly sat down on the center of the couch and stared at own battered trainers. What exactly did Snape plan to do to him? Was he going to ask about his back? Would he punish him further for trying to run away?

'Pfft, some brave Gryffindor I am…'

Snape was still standing directly in front of him, but the boy didn't have the nerve to look up at his professor's face, and again he felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He just couldn't, even when Snape spoke again.

"Explain yourself."

"Am I in some kind of trouble professor?" Harry muttered, still looking at his sneakers.

"Look at me when you speak Potter," hissed Severus, holding back the anxiety that was held within his chest. Potter knew that he had found out, so why was he acting like nothing had happened?

"Am I in trouble professor," Harry said looking up, a little more boldly this time. Severus could see the fire sparked behind the boy's hungry eyes. There was the arrogance he was used to. The knot he had felt forming eased a little at this return of Potter obnoxious spunk.

"Better," he sniffed.

Sitting back down on the rocking chair, Severus crossed his legs and pulled out his wand, resting it lazily against his knee.

"Since you seem insistent on being insufferably obstinate, I will give you two choices regarding this situation."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by Snape's raised hand and a piercing glare.

"Do not interrupt me Potter. I am sure that you are well aware of what I speak and the seriousness that accompanies it."

At this Harry blushed even deeper. So Snape had seen. 'I'm pathetic,' he thought furiously. 'How many times have I almost died, yet I can't even stand up to my muggle family?' His mind shifted onto the wounds on his legs and the shame ran even further into him. 'I can't even stand up to myself…'

"Now, I am willing to give you two choices Potter," Snape continued, "and be lucky that I am giving you that many. Your first option is to report to Headmaster Dumbledore accompanied by Madame Pomfrey and tell him all of your injuries, how you came by them, and how long this abuse has been going on."

Harry panicked. There was no way that Dumbledore could know about what went on during his summers. He knew the man depended on him to be the strong "Chosen One", and he had already disappointed him so much already.

"But sir," Harry interjected, trying to quickly think up a story his teacher would accept. "All of that happened during the Tri-Wizard tournament, there's nothing wrong at home!"

Suddenly Snape was inches away from Harry's face, his black eyes spewing venom at the boy.

"Do. Not. Lie. To me. Do not think I am so foolish to not know the age of wounds or be able to recognized forced injuries when I see them." His voice was quiet and deadly, and Harry knew that he had gone too far this time.

"Yes sir," he all but whispered.

Sitting back on his chair, Snape continued. "Your second option is to be fully examined by me. You will tell me everything that you have experienced and you will. Not. Leave anything out," he sneered. "If you do, I shall know, and you will be taken straight to the Headmaster," he said tapping his wand against his temple.

Clearly, Snape was not above using occlumency to find out what he wanted to know, Harry realized with a sigh. Damn.

Taking a second to weigh his options, Harry decided on the latter, no matter how awkward and embarrassing it would be to reveal the most private parts of his life to his professor. Snape already knew to an extent what had happened to him, and though he feared the man might just use it as an opportunity to ridicule him even further, there was not undoing what he had seen. At least this way no one else would have to get involved.

"I guess the second," Harry said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Snape sighed and uncrossed his legs, standing up. "Alright," he said, going to his own shelves of potions and ointments. "If we are to do this before classes begin, and I assure you it WILL be done before class, it needs to be done now."

He crossed the room to stand in front of Harry once again.

"Please remove your clothing except for your undergarments. Believe me, I have no desire to see all of you Potter…"

Harry felt his face blanch. There was something Snape had yet to see…