Harry was shaken awake the next morning. He cracked his eyes open to see Jack peering down at him. "Harry!" he called gently. "Sorry to wake you, but it's 1 PM. Snape is here. He said he was coming to fetch you for an… appointment? Said you knew of this before you left."

Harry sat up so fast that he got a head rush. He was on the couch where he had fallen asleep the night before… after… oh god. So much had happened. So much that Snape must never find out about. And his head! It felt woozy… like a high hangover? Geez, he hoped Snape couldn't detect anything. There was no way he could, right?

"Goodmorning, Potter. Or should I say, afternoon?" The man was standing over him, a tall dark tower. "Did you forget about our tea date at my manor?"

Tea date. Right. The man had healed Harry, but had insisted on giving Harry another check-up to remedy any lingering injuries. Tea date. Good one, Snape. Witty. Real witty. He was just glad the man didn't say to heal your lacerated back from injuries bestowed upon it out of the goodness of your uncle's heart. That would be embarrassing.

"I forgot!" Harry muttered lamely.

"I can see that." Snape seemed royally pissed off, which wasn't abnormal for him. Still, why did he have to wake up Harry with his dark cloud of a temper? "I can also see you have made yourself quite comfortable with your new guardian, sleeping well into the day and wherever you please. Is the bed provided not good enough for you?"

"Nothing of the sort," Jack was quick to speak up. "It's just… we were up late last night watching tv, so he fell asleep out here, and I didn't have the heart to wake him. It is Saturday, after all, so sleeping in shouldn't be a problem, right? The couch is quite comfortable."

"You don't have to make excuses to Snape," growled Harry at Jack. "I can't do anything right no matter what I do. I'm a spoiled brat to him, no matter what." He peered under his covers, relieved to see that he was properly dressed. Had he gone to bed that way or had Jack helped him into his clothes? Either way he was in his day clothes from the day before. They were thoroughly wrinkled, and smelled kind of dank, but at least they were on him. "And Snape, you can leave. I would stand you up on tea date any time."

"As your professor, I demand respect," hissed Snape. "Address me appropriately."

"Or what, gonna dock house points? Give me a break, Snape!" Harry snapped. "You got rid of me, remember? I'm not your responsibility anymore, so stop coddling me and fuck off."

Jack looked quite uncomfortable. Snape looked even more furious. He reached down, grabbed Harry by the forearm, and yanked him off the couch and onto his feet as if he weighed nothing at all.

"Let go of me!" cried Harry, yanking his arm back. "I don't have to go anywhere with you! You're not my guardian. I don't have to listen to you. What are you going to do, kidnap me for tea? Stop pretending you don't hate me!"

"You are, as I expected, completely out of control. Will nothing done to you teach you to behave? No where you live teaches you decent respect and thankfulness, it seems. You always end up defying all rules and acting ungrateful."

"I am thankful, but not to you!" Harry cried. "You think you have to control me and protect me and whatever, but you don't. Whatever Dumbledore put you up to, it's over now. You don't have to deal with me until the school year, so bugger off."

Snape's nostrils were flaring like a horse. "You are as insolent as ever, even with so many people catering to you and trying to protect you. Maybe I will have to find somewhere else for you to spend your summer. Maybe somewhere like...a closet? Situated under the stairs, perhaps? Or locked in a room, with a cat flap to give you food? Which one would you prefer? Oh, but go ahead. Pretend you don't need any help or protection!"

Snape's words found their mark. Harry's face went white. His mouth dropped open. "You...you know?" his voice was quiet, hardly above a whisper. "How do you...how did you...find out?"

As if it wasn't enough that the man knew he was physically abused, now he had gone and found out all the ways Harry had been neglected and humiliated? And he had to say this in front of Jack? Harry felt violated, somehow, like he didn't have any secrets anymore. Even in his failed occlumency lessons the man hadn't seen this much. He wasn't supposed to. No one was supposed to know.

Snape's words hurt, but they had the desired effect of subduing Harry. The boy looked like a kicked puppy, small and submissive, without spirit. Snape felt a tad bit of remorse, but decided to take advantage of the situation anyway. He gently took the boy's arm and began steering him towards the fireplace.

"I will return Mister Potter to you in a few hour's time," he assured Jack before flooing out with Harry.

They came out in Harry's old room in Snape's manor.

Snape steered Harry to the bed.

"Take off your clothes and lay on your stomach," he commanded, voice cold and commanding. He began to accio potions' ingredients.

Harry stared down at the bed, his arms wrapped around his torso, and began to tremble. "I won't do it," he choked. "I don't need this."

"You will do as I say," demanded Snape. "Or I will relocate you to a new guardian, someone much more strict than Jack." He really had no power of the sort, but Harry didn't need to know that. Best to keep the upper hand. It was for his own good anyway. He only needed to heal the stupid boy.

Harry was rubbing his forearms fiercely, as if trying to rub warmth into them. "N-no, Snape, I can't," he choked. "I'm not unconscious this time. It's different. I don't want you to see."

"Would you want me to make you unconscious?" asked Snape sternly, like a threat.

Harry shook his head violently, gasping a bit. "How did you find out, anyway?" he croaked.

Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry went on.

"About-about the- the cat flap. The closet." His trembling increased, and Snape realized the boy was on the edge of a panic attack. "Does it make you happy to know everything about me? About how I lived? And to say it in front of Jack too? What if he gets rid of me now as well, thinks I'm all freakish and stuff, just like you did?" Harry was gasping.

Instead of answering, Snape pressed a calming draught to Harry's lips. Harry drank the bubbling liquid without protest. The tension left his muscles as he did so, and he sank down on the floor, his head lagging a bit to one side.

"I won't speak to you when you are in such an unreasonable frame of mind," said Snape quietly. He grabbed Harry's shirt and gently tugged it off.

He expected Harry to protest, but the boy was acting very subdued once again. Scarily so, in fact. He whimpered a bit when Snape gently pulled down his pants and placed him stomach-down on the mattress. He squeezed his eyes firmly together and lay perfectly still, but for a light trembling that did not abate no matter how warm Snape spelled the room.

It made Snape uncomfortable. He wondered if the boy took beatings from his uncle this way, with this kind of resolved helplessness. It made him feel a bit guilty. He crushed the guilt by going to work on the boy's injuries, telling himself that this was the only way.

Luckily Harry had mostly healed from his last treatment. Some of his soft tissue injuries and open sores needed a few balms, but Snape was pleased to notice that he was healing quickly. On the outside, at least. Snape didn't want to admit that the boy seemed more broken than ever mentally.

When he was done he wrapped Harry in a blanket and called for some hot chocolate. Harry still looked pale and was avoiding all eye contact. Snape was tempted to push into the boy's mind, but avoided it. He already knew what the boy was feeling. Ashamed and humiliated. You didn't need to be a mind-reader to know that. It was radiating off of the child.

"Harry, you are in good health and healing quickly," Snape said.

"I know. I could have told you that," Harry rasped. His voice held a bit of resentment to it, Snape was grateful to note. The boy hadn't had his spirit broken completely, at least. "I didn't need any more of your potions."

"Where did you get the bruise on your neck?"

Harry's hand flew to a sensitive spot above his collarbone, his eyes growing wide, a rush of horror flooding through him. It must have been from the night before, from Frank. Or maybe Jack? He hadn't looked in a mirror that day, so he had no idea he even had a bruise.

"I know you snuck off to see Draco again," pressed Snape. "Jack's apartment has been heavily warded to not allow any guests in, so I know you ran off. There is no use lying about it."

Harry's eyes flashed briefly to Snape's, than dropped again. Snape took this as an admission of guilt.

"I won't do it again."

"See that you don't," Snape admonished stiffly. "Jack has taken you in, and you don't want to repay his kindness by running amiss when everyone is trying so hard to protect you."

Harry wasn't listening. Inside, his head was racing. Jack's apartment had been warded against any visitors? Than how had Frank gotten in? It would take a lot of magic to break the wards to allow visitors to enter, but Jack was a muggle so he couldn't do it. Maybe Snape was mistaken? He couldn't ask Snape, because then Snape might find out about last night. And if he found out about last night he'd definitely take him away from Jack. He didn't want that at all.