The Struggle, Chapter 2

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A/N: Oh my gosh, you guys, thanks for the positive reviews! Please keep it up! I decided to re-write several chapters which set me back, but I'll try to update every 3-5 days. Thanks again!

"Potter," the voice greeted him. Harry's smile vanished and he returned the sneer the Potion's teacher gave him.

Snape stood at the doorway, glaring at one of his least favorite students. Harry glared back, evaluating Snape, before stepping aside and muttering, "Come in".

The Professor, Harry noticed, did not look quite as bad as he usually did. He was wearing Muggle clothes, not boring black robes. His face seemed to have a bit more color to it, and his hair wasn't nearly as greasy. Harry suddenly became embarrassed at his cousin's old attire.

Severus looked around the foyer of the house. He was surprised by the cleanliness of it. It was almost like a dollhouse in a glass cabinet, everything was placed a certain way, and nothing seemed to be touched. He noticed the absence of Harry in any of the photographs on the wall.

Next, he looked down at Potter. The boy was a disaster, he couldn't help but notice. His hair was significantly darker and greasier, lying almost flat against his head with frizzy pieces flying everywhere. He also was wearing clothes several sizes too big that had been lazily patched up. The bottom of his jeans were hacked off, leaving them torn and tattered.

Besides his clothes, he noticed the boy's other features. He was thin, even under the long sleeves and baggy jeans he could tell. His eyes were hallowed and nearly empty, Snape observed. The boy seemed emotionally drained, to which Severus smirked at the thought. He probably is treated like royalty, Severus thought, clearing his throat.

"Potter, I don't want to be here either, trust me. I will only be taking up a mere hour of your precious time, and then you can go back to your luxurious summer," Snape said coolly. Harry flinched slightly at the word 'luxurious', with a strong urge to lunge at Snape, or draw his wand from his back pocket, at least. He resisted.

"Fine, whatever. Dining room is straight down the hall," he snapped back, pointing down the hall into a light room where his relatives were already sitting, whispering under their breath. Snape glided down the hall in the same fashion he would in his dungeon. Harry followed behind, trying his best to conceal a limp.

Snape stepped in and tried his best not to sneer at the pathetic family. Vernon sat at the head of the table, his large thighs falling off the wooden chair. To his left was Petunia, who Snape cast a glance at that could kill. Much had happened between Petunia and Severus, and they hadn't reconciled for decades. To Petunia's left was Dudley, a striking image of his disgusting father. The right of the table was left for Harry and Severus.

Snape walked in and took the seat farthest from Vernon, leaving Harry the pleasure of sitting by his uncle. "Hello Vernon. Petunia. Dudley," Snape said, nodding at each of them. Dudley gasped, surprised the man knew his name.

"Welcome to our house, Severus," Petunia reluctantly said as Harry took his seat nearest his uncle, cradling his injured arm while hiding it from Snape the best he could.

"I promise I will only inconvenience your family for the shortest time possible. I am just here to ask Harry a few questions about his stay at your house, and check to make sure his environment is safe. After wards, I will leave, and the rest of your summer will remained undisturbed," Snape droned in a boring tone. Petunia nodded twice in acknowledgment, and Vernon began to distribute the food.

Several minutes into the meal, Snape had only sipped the tea in front of him, taking one bite out of the chicken and setting his silverware down. It was very overcooked, but the boy beside him didn't seem to mind. His uncle severed him reasonably less than Dudley, which Snape took notice to as well, but didn't really linger over. Harry ate the food much too fast, causing his stomach to flip at the excess of food. He wasn't used to being fed this much.

"Potter, how would you describe your experience at your aunts and uncles house this summer?" Snape asked, watching the boy's disgusting eating habits. Harry cleared his throat and began mumbling something.

"Potter, you will look at me when you speak, understood?" Snape hissed. At the head of the table, Vernon chuckled, helping himself to more chicken. Dudley watched in fear, eating more slowly than he ever had.

"Yes, sir," Harry looked up, his hatred for Snape growing. "Well, it's been quite good. I get fed, I do my chores, I get to watch the telly, it's all fine and well..." his voice carried off. Snape rose an eyebrow.

"And where do you sleep?"

"Oh, well, the guest room. It's quite nice," Harry blabbered a bit more about how it used to be Dudley's room and now he uses it during the summer, but Snape tuned him out. Harry's sleeve had rolled up while he was eating to reveal a purple-blue bruise on his wrist, as though someone grabbed him too hard. He frowned.

"Enough," Snape hissed, silencing the boy. "Roll up your sleeve, Potter." Harry looked up from his empty plate quickly, a look of terror in his eyes. Vernon clutched the table, and Petunia looked away. Harry didn't move. If he were to show Snape, his uncle would probably attack him, whose breathing could be heard loudly in Harry's ear.

"Potter, if you do not roll up your sleeve I will do it for you," Snape threatened, his hand flinching towards Harry, who recoiled backwards, nearly tumbling from his chair. Snape groaned quietly and waited until the boy rebalanced himself.

"If you can remain in your chair for a few short seconds now, Potter, I will request again for you to pull your sleeve up," Snape said slowly. He heard something like a growl and low gasp emerge from Vernon.

"What are you trying to get at, Sneverit?" Vernon growled. Snape didn't bother to correct his name, Petunia had probably told him it was that, along with many other terrible things about him. Instead, Snape simply reached across the table, held Harry's arm down, pulled out his wand, and flicked it at his forearm.

Harry turned away as he struggled against the man's firm hold, his sleeve sliding up past his elbow. There were several bruises down his arm, nothing quite like the rest of his body, but still, it wasn't a pretty sight. He felt Snape release him and clear his throat.

"Harry, is there something you wish to...tell me?" Snape inquired slowly. His voice seemed to have a hint of concern in it, but still the same level of annoyance.

Harry stood up and pushed his chair in, gathering up his plate and cup. From the corner of his eye, he saw his uncle breathing hard, turning redder by the second. Harry knew he was going to regret this later.

"No, sir, nothing at all," Harry replied, walking quickly over to the sink, limping on the way. He heard a chair screech, undoubtedly Snape's. The man approached him and stood beside him, his eyebrows raised.

"Nothing? Remove your shirt, Potter. No, I have no interest in seeing your weak torso," Snape added at Harry's look of shock, "this is simply...business."

Harry heard a fork slam on the table and saw his uncle stand up. "The boy will not remove his shirt! Are you attempting to accuse me, or my family, of something?" his uncle snarled, stepping towards Snape.

With a flick of his wand, Snape flung Vernon against the wall in an almost lazy manor, and then muttered "Petrificus Totalus," calmly, freezing his uncle in a shocked position against the wall. Snape turned back towards Harry, fire in his eyes. Petunia stood up, shrieking, and rushed to her husband's side.

"Remove your shirt, or I will do it for you," Snape said clearly. Harry, in a stunned fear, managed to reach down and pull his shirt over his head. Snape nearly gasped, but maintained his composure. Harry's entire chest was filled with cuts, bruises, gashes, scabs, and other deep scars. He was bleeding openly in several places, which were obviously new cuts.

Besides that, his collar bone and hip bones stuck out far too much for a boy of his age. His left arm featured many of the same bruises as his right, including finger-shaped purple marks at the wrist. Snape blinked twice and then turned, addressing Petunia who was shrieking curses at him, calling him a 'foul, evil freak' and 'a disgrace' and finally 'no one Lily chose James over you'.

"ENOUGH! You shut up or you will be a replica of your lousy husband, and I will leave you here to rot!" Snape shouted, his hands shaking. Harry slipped his shirt back on and stepped several paces back.

"You have no evidence of anything, Severus," Petunia gasped, pointing at Harry. Snape snorted and lowered his eyes on her.

"As if this," Snape turned sharply, pointing to Harry's chest, "isn't enough!" He tore his eyes from Petunia and looked at Harry, his eyes large and his cheeks slightly red.

"Go to your room, gather your things, bring them downstairs. Meet my by the door, do not lolly-gag, I do not have time for this. Go!" Snape said loudly, turning back towards Petunia with his wand out.

Questions raced through Harry's mind, but he could barely concentrate as he limped from the room towards his cupboard under the stairs. How come Snape seemed to know Petunia so well? Why did she make that comment about his mother and father? How did Snape instantly know about the abuse? Anyone else usually just believed Harry got into fights...Harry opened his cupboard door and began throwing clothes off the floor into an open suitcase.

By the time he was done, the suitcase was still half empty. He only had a couple pairs of oversized pants and a few shirts in it, because everything related to Hogwarts was locked in his uncle's and aunt's room. All his books, robes, his brand new Firebolt, and any sweets he had purchased from Honeydukes were locked away in a trunk at the end of his uncle's bed.

Harry limped out of the cupboard, dragging his suitcase along. He shut the door behind him and turned to find Snape standing inches from him, looking more angry and annoyed than usual.

"Potter, why are your things in that cupboard?" he growled, tapping his foot. Harry could still hear the shrieks of his aunt from down the hall, shouting curses and insults at Snape left and right.

"Oh, uh, well, I didn't really...uh, I wasn't honest about...y'know, my sleeping arrangements. I sleep in, uh...yeah..." his voice trailed off and he looked down at his feet, trying to keep his breathing steady. He simply wanted to leave.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He yanked Harry's suitcase from his hand, surprised at the light-weight of it. He lifted it up and down a few times, and looked at Harry again. "Are these all your things?"

Harry shook his head. "No, all my stuff from Hogwarts is in my uncle's room in a trunk at the end of the bed, he locks it up-" but before Harry could finish, Snape whipped out his wand and said clearly, "Accio trunk!" With a thud, the trunk clobbered down the stairs and landed at Harry's feet.

Snape flicked his wand twice, shrinking both the trunk and suitcase down to briefcase size. He thrust the shrunken trunk into Harry's arm, to which he fell back a few paces before regaining his balance. Snape smirked at how weak he was.

"Head into the house across the street. You will find a woman named Arabella Figg. I will be over shortly, I need to discuss something with your aunt and uncle. We will be traveling to Hogwarts via the Floo network, and taking you to the hospital wing for further evaluation. Go," he said shortly, and Harry limped out of the house.

Harry managed to make it over to the house across the street, although his leg had almost completely given out and his entire body was throbbing. His joints felt as though knives had impacted them multiple times. He knocked weakly on the door and leaned up against the house, panting tiredly. He was so confused, so tired, and so weak. More than anything he wanted to be in his Gryffindor dorm...

Suddenly, the door opened. Ms. Figg stood, eying Harry up and down. It had been nearly two years since he had seen her last. She used to babysit him when he was younger, or the Dursleys would dump him off at her house if they got tired of him being around.

"Snape said...he'll be over...just had to...can I come in?" Harry gasped, clutching his arm. He could now see that a deep gash somewhere near his elbow was bleeding, as the blood soaked through the light-weight cotton shirt.

"Of course, dear," replied Ms. Figg softly. She stepped aside and Harry stumbled in, eventually finding a chair to crash onto. Her house reeked of cabbage, as usual, but he didn't mind now. Merely seconds later, a very angry looking Snape appeared across the room. Harry was shocked as to how he appeared.

"Up, Potter, we'll be leaving," his demanded. Harry pulled himself to his feet, still clutching the shrunk trunk in his arm. He stumbled towards the fire place, feeling very dizzy and weak. He didn't know how he would get across the Floo network without passing out in the fire. Snape seemed to notice as well.

"Thank you, Arabella, for letting us use your fireplace, but it seems as though Mr. Potter is too weak to use it at this moment. We will Apparate instead," said Snape. Ms. Figg only nodded and walked out of the room, muttering something about his aunt and uncle he longed to hear.

"Potter, pay attention. You will simply take my arm and we will be at the castle. Do not let go, and do not pass out on me. This will be intense," Snape warned, thrusting his arm towards Harry.

"But, sir, what is 'apparate'?" Harry asked, hesitant to take the man's arm. Snape let out an irritated sigh. "It's simply a form of wizard transportation. Take my arm, now, we don't have all day," he said, obviously irritated. Harry reached out and grabbed his arm slowly.

Seconds later, after much twisting, turning, and being pulled, they both hit the ground nearly a quarter mile from Hogwarts, due to the lack of being able to Apparate inside school grounds. Snape stood tall, while Harry's knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground. On all fours, he turned his head away from Snape and vomited on the grass beside him.

"Potter, why must you always be such a pain? Evanesco," Snape said without emotion, flicking his wand at the pile of sick beside Harry, who was still on the ground, moaning. Snape waited patiently for a minute before gently poking the boy with his wand. He didn't really know what else to do.

"Potter, I need you to get up and we can take you to the Hospital Wing. You've lost quite a bit of blood, and we need to heal up the cuts and get a full evaluation of the damage done. It's about a quarter mile walk," Snape said, trying to force a bit of sympathy into his voice. With struggle, Harry forced himself to his feet and began walking, stumbling every few steps and gasping for air.

By the time they reached the front doors, Severus walking a few paces behind him, Harry was still limping dramatically. He was dizzy, thirsty, weak, and tired. Overall, though, he was surprisingly embarrassed. Not only had his least favorite professor seen him without a shirt, or vomiting, but he had seen him weak. Harry had spent three years putting on a show of being strong and arrogant around Snape, and it was slowly crumbling.

Snape reached from behind Harry and pulled the door open for him, giving him a slight nudge with his wand to go in. Harry stumbled inside and looked around. The Castle was dark and empty, most of the portraits were sleeping and no ghosts wandered the halls. It was quiet and peaceful.

They walked slowly in silence up the the Hospital wing. When they got there, Harry was immediately seized by Madam Pomfrey who dragged him roughly to the first bed, shoving him down on it and turning to lecture Snape. Someone had obviously informed her that Harry would be arriving. He suspected it was Dumbledore.

"You let him walk up here with no help? Did you think to conjure a wheelchair for the boy? Oh goodness," she sighed loudly and flicked a wand at Harry, who was suddenly without clothes except for his underpants. He scrambled for a blanket, but Madam Pomfrey held him down.

"Harry, I will need to fully examine your body in order to heal you and provide the right Potions. Severus, if you could please bring me some of your strongest potions for pain, I'm afraid Potter will need them..." her voice drifted off as she grabbed a clipboard, scribbling down where different cuts and bruises were across Harry's body.

Snape turned away from the nearly naked moaning boy, feeling a heavy lump in his throat. It was pity, yes, but also it had reminded him of his own childhood, several years ago. "Locomotor trunk. Locomotor suitcase," Snape said, flicking his wand twice, the trunk and suitcase lifting up and floating into the air. He glided away, wondering what would become of the Potter boy over the next several days.

A/N: Hope you guys liked it! Please keep up the reviews! Next chapter will be out in 3-5 days depending on the reviews. Any predictions?