"It's none of your business, Malfoy." Harry spat.
"It certainly is if a lion has entered the snake pit." Draco sneered right back. Crabbe and Goyle wandered in, and clueless as ever, decided to fight Harry. It was three on one, and there was no going back.
"Listen, I will get out of your hair as long as you let me go."
"No, I don't think I will. Crabbe, Goyle? Let's teach the Golden Boy a lesson."
They advanced on Harry, who ran off but got blocked at a dead end. It was Dudley's gang all over again and he couldn't run this time. Crabbe threw the first punch, knocking him clean in the nose, which Harry knew to be broken. Goyle kicked his ribs which thankfully didn't crack.
Harry knew what to do - let them beat him up for a bit. Don't cry, don't make a noise, don't fight. Just stay there until they start yelling insults and lock you in a cupboard. He zoned out, allowing for a state of lucidity. He could see the punches, yes, but he couldn't feel them. It was like he was a spectator to his own body, a stranger watching but never interfering.
"Potter! I expected you at 12:30 P.M sharp-" Snape realised that Harry was on the floor, being attacked by Crabbe, Goyle, and his Godson.
"Crabbe! Goyle! Malfoy! Get off him this instant!" Snape shouted furiously, and tugged Crabbe back by his collar. Goyle stared back with a goofy grin splattered upon his face. Malfoy looked proud.
"Oh c'mon, Severus, we were just having a little bit of fun." Draco said slimily, twirling his wan. His lackeys nodded vigorously.
"I do not tolerate bullying from any house, whether it be my own or a Hufflepuff. 50 points from Slytherin from each of you, and you will be serving detention with me on Mondays at 7 P.M."
"Surely you can make an exception, he is a Potter after all."
"I. Do. Not. Tolerate. Bullying." Snape growled dangerously. Draco paled and muttered a rushed 'Yes sir' before scurrying off, his cronies not far behind. Snape looked down at Harry, who had an incredulous look upon his face.
"Cease your gawking."
"When you just took points from Slytherin and gave them detention?" Snape rolled his eyes.
"Potter, are you injured at all?" Snape asked dryly, avoiding the question and offering a hand to help him up. Harry warily accepted it.
"No sir, just a few scrapes and bruises."
"I do not appreciate lies, Mr. Potter. You will go to the infirmary."
"No!" Harry said desperately. "I have already bothered Madam Pomfrey enough for the year. I shouldn't bother her." Snape paused for a moment, seeming to consider alternatives.
"Can you walk?"
"I think so."
"Come." Snape ordered, leaving no room for debate. Harry hobbled as quickly as he could to keep up with the older man's strides. His nose was bloody and cracked, face swollen with various cuts, scrapes and bruises. His ankle was another matter entirely; it felt as though someone had wedged a piece of stone in his leg and jostled it around.
They entered into his quarters and Snape instructed him to sit on the couch. Harry sat there calmly; it wasn't anything he couldn't handle, and head been beaten up worse than this before. A part of him enjoyed the pain, it gave him something to focus on. Snape returned from the basement with his ever-present satchel.
"Sir, I'm fine. Really, you don't have to do all of this."
"Have you seen yourself?" He snapped back, transfiguring a shiny metallic figurine into a mirror. He held it up so that Harry could see himself.
He looked awful. His nose was disfigured, bloody and bruised. His eyes were swollen and a black eye was emerging on pale flesh. His lip was bleeding, and it coated his teeth in the metallic substance. His eyebrow was bleeding as well, and blood trickled down his face. Harry wasn't phased by this in the slightest if the searing pain was anything to go by.
"I look okay." Harry lied.
"You look anything but!"
"I've had worse, I will be fine."
"Having experienced something worse and being fine are two entirely different things! Stay still. Now." Snape threateningly spoke, each word clear as day.
He stared at Harry's face for a moment, using his fingers to lift the boy's chin up. He peered down, onyx eyes boring into emerald. Harry shrunk under the man's gaze. Snape raised his wand to the younger boy's nose, which severely startled him. Snape held him in place firmly despite the struggle he put up.
"Episkey." Harry's nose promptly stitched itself together; the bone was realigned and the blood flow stopped. His split lip also mended immediately upon the spell's command. The pain in his face decreased ten fold. Snape reached into his robes and pulled out a jar of thick paste, and slabbed it delicately onto his battered face. It soothed the aching skin, a cool and tingly sensation permeated through the abrasions. Snape turned his attention suddenly to Harry's ankle.
"Remove your shoe, please, Mr. Potter."
"Really, it's fine sir I-"
"If I hear that phrase one more time I swear that I will not hesitate to send you to the infirmary. Remove your shoe." After a few moments, Harry reluctantly complied. It was swollen and raw, disfigured to the point where Harry had to struggle to find his toes. Was this what Dudley felt like? Was he acting too much like him?
"I cannot ensure it is not broken without first figuring out what the damage is. There is a spell that I can use that will show me what injuries you have. The downside is that it is an extensive list of all injuries you have attained." Harry stared at his lap mutely.
"I suppose I don't have a choice, do I?" Harry responded numbly. He knew if he didn't comply he would be sent to Madame Pomfrey, and he really didn't want to have to explain everything to her.
What Harry didn't know was that the cunning Slytherin had blatantly lied. If there was only one spell for diagnostic charms, then most Healers would be out of business. His true plan was to discover what kind of abuse the boy had suffered. Sure, he knew the gist of it, but this would give him an itemised list from oldest to newest injuries, providing him much needed insight to help the boy heal, both physically and mentally.
"Very well, then. Revelare Omnem Injuriam!" He made a flashy wand movement over the boy in the shape of a circle with an 'R' in the middle. A piece of parchment and matching quill appeared into his hands, the quill beginning to scrawl out the oldest injuries. Snape skipped over standard injuries. He let his eyes wander to the worst of the abuse.
'2nd degree burn on the cheek - 3 years and 16 days old.
Bruised rib cage - 3 years 5 months and 27 days old.
Malnutrition - 4 years 1 month and 2 days old.
Broken wrist - 4 years 1 month and 2 days old.
Concussion - 4 years 1 month and 2 days old.
Dislocated ankle - 4 years 1 month and 2 days old.
Severe abrasions on the back via belt - 4 years 1 month and 2 days old.'
He felt his heart clench from within his chest. He made his promise to Lily, and he failed miserably. Merlin, the boy was four! Barely at that! It was beginning to remind him too much of his own childhood. The parchment grew larger. He skimmed to yet another lengthy part.
'Severe abrasions on the back via belt - 7 years 8 months and 19 days old.
Severe abrasions on the buttocks via belt buckle - 7 years 8 months and 19 days old.
Asphyxiation - 7 years 8 months and 19 days old.
Severe malnutrition - 7 years, 8 months and 26 days old.'
Severus winced at this. He knew first hand how much it hurt to be hit by a belt, let alone the buckle. He did calculations, the malnutrition occurred one week following the injuries. He clearly was starved as a punishment for whatever he did. His eyes glazed over the ever-growing parchment, and he was able to deduce how an injury occurred. Snape grew irate, furious even. How dare they abuse him like that? What gave them the right?
It took the quill about five minutes to finish writing, the parchment almost longer than the summer assignments Snape assigned for potions. Snape didn't say anything for a moment, taking it all in. He forced himself to be calm and hide any and all emotions, smothering them with a thick layer of Occlumency shields.
"It appears as though it is fractured down the growth plate. Drink." He handed Harry a bottle of Skele-Gro. Harry winced as he drank it, the unpleasant aftertaste lingering far too long in his mouth. Snape noticed and summoned a glass of water and gave it to Harry, who greedily lapped from the glass. Cool water cleaned his mouth of the abhorrent taste. Snape's gaze softened for a moment, but quickly returned to its normal neutrality.
"T-hanks." Harry said ashamedly, voice cracking with hoarseness.
"There is no need to thank me." He paused briefly. "You have a various number of scrapes and bruises amongst your body. You can either allow me to do it, or I will give you a salve and you can apply it yourself. The choice is yours." His voice held no menace, but a twinge of, of…compassion?
"I'll do it myself, Professor."
"Alright, so be it. I expect you to do so immediately upon entering your room. I will not have you moping about injured." Snape commanded, to which Harry nodded vigorously. He handed Harry a jar of salve, and Harry wordlessly thanked him before heading up to his room. Shaky hands unscrewed the lid as he stood in the mirror, robeless. He was banged up, but not overly so. He delicately applied the salve to the bruises.
As he stood, looking at himself, he felt disgusted. He might as well cause himself some pain, even if it was not with a blade. He deserved it, after all. He located a particularly nasty bruise and hit it as hard as he could. At first, he winced, but then the sensation became one of bliss. Experimentally, he dragged long jagged nails across contused flesh. He added more pressure, causing a dull ache and a sudden sharper one. Again, he repeated this action over and over again, sawing into the not-so-pristine flesh. Finally he saw blood, and squeezed the sides of the injury to get it to bleed more. He stared at it in satisfaction.
Then, as if nothing happened, he took the salve and elegantly dipped a finger into it and ran it along the self-inflicted wound. The very same finger that pained him was the one to cure his ailment. A sense of power flooded his mind and satisfaction coursed through his veins. Yes, he was the one in control, and no one else.
"Potter! What's taking so long?"
"Just putting my robes back on, sir!" Harry shouted back, panicking. He quickly slathered the rest of the bruises and tossed on his robes flusteredly. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes betrayed him. Snape stared at him curiously for a moment before directing his attention back to his book, which he promptly closed.
"I just wanted to ensure your safety. I am going to shower, stay here." He got up and swished his robes, walking briskly to his chambers. Truthfully, Harry wasn't entirely sure where Snape's room was, and he sure as hell didn't want to find out.
Sitting on his bed, he wondered what Snape had seen. That parchment has every single injury he had ever had in his entire life! He knew everything now, and he tucked the scroll away to Merlin knows where! He could show it to anyone at all and Harry would be none the wiser until it was too late. Unwillingly, he felt tears start to spill from his eyes, mourning the loss of a childhood he was never given. He grabbed a pillow and held it close to his abdomen, and forced his head into the soft expanse of its fabric. Sobs wracked his body, wailing muffled by the cushion.
—-
"Potter?" Snape asked softly, sleek hair still dripping with water. How long had the boy been crying for?
"Potter?" Snape asked again, getting closer to Harry's bed. Harry curled himself inwards and sobbed harder. With a sigh, Snape hoisted himself onto the bed and sat next to the mess of a boy. He put a comforting hand onto his shoulder, which Harry shrugged away.
"Don't touch me!" He yelled into the pillow, crying harder. Snape quickly removed his arm and laid it upon the headboard. He took a few moments to decide what to do next. He had never been good at comforting people, and messing a child up further was something he didn't want to be responsible for.
"Harry, I told you that you could tell me anything. I am here to listen when you need me." Snape said soothingly, removing as much malice from his voice as humanly possible.
"You hate me."
"I assure you I do not."
"Yes you do." Harry pouted.
"I do not hate you. I never have. I simply misdirected my anger towards you, and it is one of three major regrets I have in my life." Harry looked up at him bleary eyed.
"You mean that?"
"You have my word." Harry flipped himself around so he was sitting against Snape's arm. Snape seemed surprised at first but quickly masked it, refusing to move unless given reason to. Harry took a shuddery breath.
"Lockhart wasn't the only one." Harry cried, pulling himself into Snape's expanse of dark, pooling robes.
Forgive the lateness of this chapter, I found the most amazing fic and I just had to finish it. It did give me some new ideas, though, so be on the lookout for those! I think I'm going to update with longer chapters every other day for now because I have finals coming up.