Harry pounded on the door with his fists and screamed out all the insults and curse words he could think of. Harry felt claustrophobic, even in the large room, and it was making him panicky. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being locked up, it was just that he fucking hated it. How dare Snape do that to him? With his uncle it was normal enough, but he couldn't stand this treatment from Snape! Wasn't he supposed to be a good guy, trusted by Dumbledore? How dare he treat Harry like he was a prisoner?
After a few minutes of using up all the curse words and insults he could think of, he had to resort to more creative measures with his language. His voice felt like it might be going hoarse as well. He just wanted to get Snape angry enough to open up the door again. He didn't think what to do after that. It didn't matter. He just didn't want to be locked up.
He kicked the door with his foot, which was a huge mistake he realized as soon as he had done it. His cry this time was in pain instead of anger. That shit fucking hurt. He knew he probably broke a toe or two. He had enough experience with broken fingers and toes in his life to recognize the sensation.
Tears prickled at the back of his eyelids, but he blinked them back. He would not give Snape the satisfaction of making him cry. Sliding to the ground at the base of the door, he rested his forehead on the hard wood paneling, utterly exhausted. The pain of his toes sapped his panic, and a familiar feeling of numbness settled over him like a cold blanket. He had been in this situation so many times since he was a child, locked away. He never did scream when the Dursleys did it, learning early on that the outcome would only result in being locked back up, this time longer, and this time with injuries to boot.
It suddenly occurred to him that Snape had probably put a silencing charm on his room. There was no way the git would just sit back and hear all those insults and not take the chance to wreak punishments down on him for it.
Maybe the pain put some sense back into him by making him realize how fruitless it was to scream at a door. Maybe you deserved that pain. He pushed that intrusive thought away by thinking of Snape's ugly face, and how much he wanted to strangle him. It took away some of the sense of numbness and made him feel angry again.
Gnashing his teeth together in anger, he picked himself up off the ground and looked around. The room was devoid of decorations of any sort. Other than the bed there was only a dresser and a large stone fireplace. The fireplace was not lit, of course. If it had been, Harry would have lit the bed on fire. That would have gotten Snape's attention. If it didn't, Harry would burn to death, probably. Which would be somewhat satisfactory as long as Snape got in trouble for it with Dumbledore.
There was also a door on the opposite wall. It was cracked open. Harry limped over to it and peered inside.
The bathroom that lay within was huge, with a tub as big as a bed. Seeing it made Harry realize how dirty he felt. He was pleased when, upon turning on the shower, hot water emerged. And there were towels that smelled good too, the expensive soft kind that Petunia had never let him use. Because you're a dirty fucking freak. Because rags were reserved for him.
He stripped out of his dirty clothes and stepped into the hot water. It felt really good. There was even a bar of soap, which Harry began to liberally apply to his body. Nothing so far seemed cursed.
That guy, Jack, he really went all out, Harry decided. There was a ton of hickeys and finger marks scattered all over his skin. The worst was two very painful bite marks on his inner thigh that were a bit red and swollen, but not oozing or anything like that. Still, they fucking hurt, and they looked like he got attacked by a wild animal that hadn't eaten in a considerable amount of time. Who the fuck even leaves marks like that anyway? So much for being a romantic gentleman. Jack was a freak! He was glad the man hadn't given him his number. Harry would have never contacted him again, even if he begged it of him and invited him out on dates and such!
He imaged that, for a while. Jack, begging Harry to go out with him on dates. Jack, apologizing profusely for the bad sex and saying that he would make it up to him in any way he could. Harry would demand a ton of things, like free pizza and beer and maybe even an expensive pair of headphones like the kind Dudley has. And even after all that, Harry would just refuse to ever contact him again. He'd leave him in the dirt, begging.
Harry scrubbed angrily at himself, as if he could make the marks disappear with sheer force and willpower. He let his imagination take him away, not realizing all the time that passed or that the bar of soap that he was scrubbing with was getting smaller and smaller.
There was a knocking on the door, jerking Harry from his daydreams. Startled, he jumped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. It wasn't like Snape would be mad at him for showering, would he? "Wh-what is it?" he asked, trying to sound fierce but only sounding alarmed.
The voice that greeted him through the door was squeaky and high pitched. "Master Snape would demand Harry Potter's presence at the dinner table in fifteen minutes, and Essie is to help escort you as soon as you are finished."
Harry cracked the door enough so that he could look down and see the small elf. He wanted to say, "You tell Snape that there is no way I am going," or something like that, but he wasn't sure what the house elf would do to herself if he declined. Also, this meant that he could leave his room. And aside from all that, he hadn't eaten all day and was really hungry. So he smiled down at her and said, "let me just get changed," and she disappeared with a crack and a look of happiness on her face.
Harry threw on some clothes from his trunk. He wasn't surprised to see that his wand and his invisibility cloak were both gone. It didn't make him any less angry through.
He followed Essie down the staircase and a hallway. Everything in Snape's manor looked very old and victorian, with dark mahogany wood and red carpeting. Harry decided right away that it was creepy and that he did not like it at all.
Harry had had a million things that he wanted to shout and demand and scream at Snape, but as soon as he saw him sitting at the table all the anger fled him, leaving him with anxiety and a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.
"I see that you are limping, Potter," Snape sneered at him as he sat down.
Harry shrugged his shoulders and looked down hungrily at a large plate filled with turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy before him. He hadn't had such a good meal since leaving Hogwarts!
Snape, sighing, flicked his wand at Harry's foot. His toes lit up with a yellow glow before a slip of paper appeared in midair in front of Snape's face. Snape snatched the paper with nimble fingers, glared at the words on it as if they personally offended him, and then slammed the paper down on the table with a bang.
"And how, pray tell, did you manage to break three of your toes between now and when I last saw you three hours ago?"
Harry looked startled? "Three toes?" I thought it was only two. "Did you, um, did you hear me?"
"Hear your tantrum, you mean? No, I was in the dungeons, though Essie made me aware that you had quite the party going up there."
"Oh." Harry would have said more, but he wasn't angry so much as hungry. "Do I still, can I, you know, do I get dinner?"
"I called you down for dinner, didn't I?" Snape growled.
Harry fell silent as they both began to eat. No words were spoken between either of them until after dinner. Then Snape slid a small jar across the table. The jar was hardly bigger than a coin. "This is for your bruising," Snape offered as an explanation.
"Bruising?" Harry choked on the word. Did Snape somehow know about Jack? But how-?
"For where I grabbed your shoulder. I know it must have left a mark. And also for your toes, to ease the swelling."
"Oh." Harry hadn't even noticed any bruises on his shoulder. He was too busy noticing them elsewhere.
"Literate as always. Were you not so angry before, shouting many things? How then are you so silent now? Do you not have questions?"
Harry swallowed and looked up. Would Snape actually answer questions if he asked any? "Is it true that, you know, no one wanted me? Even, even- you know, Lupin, or Mrs. Weasley?" He asked hesitantly, worried for the answer.
"Well, Potter," oh how he had not missed the way Snape spat his last name like an insult, "if you had taken the time to read that parchment I gave you instead of ripping it and crumbling it in rage, you would have noticed that I am the guardian immediately placed over your care 'until such a time as a more suitable guardian is needed for welfare.' This means, that if you had not been so out of control, maybe professor Dumbledore would not have sought to remove you from your family's house. As is, I am the only one he trusts to effectively discipline you and to see that you abandon all foolishness such as has been increasing in the past few years and resulted in your summerly escapades. After that, you may return to being the Dursley's beloved brat."
Harry's mind tripped over the words, but caught on one in particular. "Discipline?"
"Yes, Potter. That is something I do not expect your spoiled self to know anything about, though I can assure you that you will soon know exactly what that word means."
Harry swallowed and clenched his hands in his lap over the jar of healing salve. He didn't dare ask anymore questions in that area. Indeed, his mind was rather hung up on that, and he didn't know what else to ask, accept, "May I please go back to my room? Sir." He wanted to apply that salve.
"So eager to leave, when you were just so eager to escape? You may, though if you do you will not be allowed out until breakfast tomorrow morning."
Harry nodded and exited as quickly as he could.
In the bathroom he rubbed the balm onto the two bite marks on his inner thigh, satisfied to see them disappear almost immediately after a few coatings of it.