"Did you not listen to my instructions on how to apply the balm?" Snape was furious the next morning at breakfast when Harry walked into the room… limping.

"It didn't work," Harry lied as he seated himself at the table. He almost felt guilty for the lie since Snape had been unexpectedly kind in giving him the balm to begin with, but his guilt vanished at the sound of Snape's annoying voice. Why must the man be constantly angry and accusing all the time?

"First rule of you abiding here: Do. Not. Lie. To. Me, Potter."

Well, Snape, your balm didn't work. And anyway, I know you don't care one way or another if I'm hurt, so you can stop pretending to care now. Don't worry, I won't tell Dumbledore."

"That is professor to you, you insufferable brat."

"Well then, you can start by calling me by my name, Snape. Why should I respect you if you don't respect me, or be honest with you if you never tell me anything that I want to know? Let's face it: you hate me and I hate you, so if its honesty you want, stop giving me balms and-and- stuff as if you actually care! I don't need your charity, you greasy dungeon bat!"

Snape stood up abruptly, fury darkening his face. He rounded the table in two steps. Harry cowered down in his chair, bracing himself for a slap across the face. Instead Snape grabbed Harry by the forearm, yanking him out of his chair. "Let go of me you bastard!" Harry yelled as Snape began dragging him out of the room. His heart was beating frantically out of control and his breathing was coming in short gasps but if anything his panic was only making him more reckless. He knew he should stop talking but for some reason his tongue seemed to be out of his control, spouting insults and curses as easy as breathing. He hadn't seen Snape so angry in a long time, and he figured he might as well say as much as he could if he was already going to pay for it. If the cake was baked, he might as well ice it, right? Or something like that…

Snape dragged him down a hall and into a small room that he threw Harry into. Harry stumbled forward, gasping in pain as he placed too much weight on his broken toes. He whirled around in time to see the door shut with a locking charm. Shit. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia overwhelmed him. His eyes darted around the room for a means of escape as Snape drew closer. There wasn't much in the room, just a desk, a few chairs, and a couch. Snape grabbed him again and began dragging him across the floor by his now-bruised arm. He stood him up against the wall in the corner of the room. "Don't move," he hissed in Harry's ear.

Harry stood against the wall, flushed in embarrassment at the childish punishment but too terrified to disobey. He stood very still, skin prickling in anticipation. He heard Snape rustling around the room and he expected any moment for the man to turn on him with a cane or some other beating instrument when he least expected it. He wondered if he could make it go by faster if he cried out, or if he should try to keep his dignity as long as possible? He figured Snape would enjoy seeing him blubber, but he didn't think Snape was the merciful kind that would take pity on him and go short on the beating if he cried.

It wasn't until he heard a chair scrape across the floor and the rustling stop a few minutes later that Harry's panicked breathing finally slowed a bit. He didn't dare turn around and look, but he heard the rustling of paper every few seconds and figured the man was grading papers. Maybe he'd get beaten after this little waiting game. He knew the man was furious with him and he was surprised at the self control that Snape was showing in not taking out some of his anger immediately. The self control scared Harry a bit. Punishments that were methodically dished out were more terrifying than those that were emotionally-driven, weren't they?

Harry's stomach flip-flopped at the thought and he had to steady himself on his good foot from a woozy head-rush. He wondered when Snape would turn on him. He didn't like having to wait.

There was only so long Harry could remain tense, and eventually some of the stress left his muscles. He couldn't wait until the end of the day when he could go back to his room and collapse into his bed. He decided to not fight the punishment Snape had in store for him but to take the beating gracefully. He wanted it over as soon as possible. He hated waiting. It was worse since his back was turned and he was forced to stand on tired legs. He hated not being able to face his fears.

He was suddenly hit with a memory of when he was only seven years old. It was Christmas morning, and Harry had burned breakfast. As punishment he was made to stand in a corner and stare at the wall while the rest of the family opened presents. Harry never got presents, so Christmas morning wasn't that exciting anyways, yet he was surprised at how terrible it was to not be able to even watch. He could hear them laughing, the ripping of wrapping paper, and Dudley's exclamations at the gifts that he had received. He was left staring at a blank wall with them ignoring his very existence while he was in the very room.

At the time Harry had begun to sniff silently to himself, which eventually escalated into quiet sobbing. This made Mr Dursley notice him, and he stormed over to the corner where he began raining down blows on Harry. "Self pity is disgusting for a freak like you!" he stormed. "You think you have it bad? We took you in out of the goodness of our hearts and gave you a place to say, and you are crying because you are in a corner? The shame!"

A tickling sensation on his cheek pulled him from the memory, and Harry was shocked to feel something drip from his eye. Fuck it, he was actually crying at the stupid memory and his own feeling of self pity because of it. He was so stupid, crying for no reason and feeling sorry for himself. His breathing hitched with emotion. He went rigid, fearful that Snape had heard him and would turn on him for it like Vernon. Luckily no footsteps approached, and Harry tried very hard to hold back the tears. He wanted to dash the tears away but he let them dry on his cheeks instead. Snape had said not to move and he didn't know how literally the man had meant it, but he didn't want to find out.

The chair behind him scraped lightly and Snape cleared his throat, causing Harry to jump. "Come have a seat, Potter."

Harry turned from the corner and obediently limped over to the couch where he sat across from Snape. He didn't look at the man, just down at his feet. He knew there was probably a tear trail or two down his cheek and he avoided eye contact in case his eyes were also red. His heart was beating kind of hard. He wanted to get his punishment over with as soon as possible.

Snape stood up, and his chair scraped angrily across the floor as he did so, making Harry cringe and sink down a bit, trying to make himself as small as possible. Snape walked around the desk and stood directly over Harry, his presence making Harry feel inadequate and small.

"Why are you crying?" asked Snape. "Do your toes hurt that much?"

Shit. Snape noticed. Of course he noticed. Harry knew he would. He was just embarrassed that Snape had chosen to comment on it. "I just felt sorry for myself." His head snapped up. Oh shit, did those words really just come out of his mouth? Maybe he subconsciously had a death wish or something.

He wasn't expecting Snape's calm exterior. "Do you feel as if your time-out was too harsh of a punishment after your idiotic tantrum and your rudeness? Is that why you feel sorry for yourself?"

Harry snorted. As if. "No, sir, it's just that no one understands me, but everyone wants to control me." He slapped a hand over his mouth, his face heating up. He braced himself for impending judgment as Snape's face darkened. He really needed to learn to school his mouth if he wanted to stay alive, especially if he was living with the greasy git. He never made trouble at the Dursleys or spoke out of turn, so why was it so hard to control himself around Snape?

Snape grunted and knelt down. Harry was startled to see the man on his level.

Snape pulled the sock off of Harry's injured foot.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Harry squeaked, startled. He tried to pull his foot back, but Snape grabbed his ankle in an iron grip.

"Don't move, you fool. Since it is obvious that you cannot take care of yourself in even the most minuscule of ways it is now up to me to do everything, it seems. Tell me, Potter, do you enjoy pain?"

"I-I mean, I'm a bit of a masochist, you know, so yeah, I like it in some circumstances, like as play before sex and stuff. Not in punishments, really, I don't like to get beaten. I don't like that as all. And I don't like breaking toes. That kind of pain really bloody sucks."

Snape's grip tightened drastically around Harry's ankle, eliciting a gasp from the boy. "That was not what I meant, Potter, so please shut up. I do not require this kind of knowledge from you."

Harry colored several shades. "Well you asked!

Snape pulled out the familiar jar of balm and began liberally applying it to Harry's toes. The balm was a bit chilly, but as soon as it was applied some of the pain vanished and Harry's taunt muscles relaxed into Snape's hand.

"Wow!" Harry gasped, thrilled that the pain was gone.

"Indeed," Snape agreed, applying another coating of the balm.

Gratefulness filled Harry. Snape was acting awful damn nice for being such a greasy git.

Snape turned the extra chair into a small table, and summoned breakfast onto it. "Since neither of us ate, we will do so now," he announced. "Another rule for you to remember and heed to: no missing meals. Or else there will be consequences. After breakfast you may start writing lines for your miserable behavior thus far today."

Harry gaped up at Snape in astonishment. That was the only punishment he was getting? And he still got to eat? He couldn't believe his luck. So far this was so much better than the Dursleys. He knew he'd probably screw things up quickly and sap out all of whatever decency Snape was showing, but Harry couldn't be bothered to care too much at the moment.

"Are you trying to suck nutrients out of the air, Potter? Do stop staring with your mouth open and put some food in it, please."

Harry turned to the small table filled with waffles, cream, and fresh fruit, and began serving himself a heaping portion.