Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story, nor any of the settings. J.K. Rowling does.

A/N: Please review. Also, this is the beginning of the Severitus in this story and with that comes the allusions to child abuse. I'm not sure if it is this chapter or the next, but it will be soon.

Chapter 17

Harry winced as a fist hit him roughly in the face. His glasses skittered away and he fumbled for his wand. His fingers closed around the wood just as he was hit again, harder this time, and was sent to the floor. A foot stepped on his hand, the one holding his wand, and he bit his lip harshly to hold in the scream as his fingers crunched audibly.

Someone kicked him, hard, in the ribs and he gasped for breath. Years of practice with Uncle Vernon had him curling in fetal position, his hands around his head to protect it as more kicks rained down on him.

"Not so golden now, are you, Golden Boy?" Someone snarled. Harry squinted, catching a sight of brown hair, and then shielded himself again as another fist flew, glancing off of his cheekbone.

"You should call him rainbow boy instead," Someone else offered, snickering. Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine that this was not happening, that he was still with Draco somewhere and this was just a bad dream. Sometimes, when Uncle Vernon was whaling on him, he could do that. He could pretend that he was somewhere, anywhere than there. It made the punches hurt less and his soul strengthen.

Someone kicked him, right in the groin, and he groaned, curling closer in on himself. For a second everything went away and all that existed was pain. It was nearly as bad as the Cruiciatus curse, but not quite. His attackers, Harry guessed there to be about three, finally seemed tired of him and the punches stopped.

"The Boy Who Lived, on the ground," Someone whispered. Harry opened his eyes just in time for spit to spray across his face. "And stay there."

Footsteps signaled the boys leaving, but Harry stayed put for a second, trying to regain control of his breathing. Pain ripped jaggedly through his side as he gasped for air, but he knew that he needed to get up. He got to his knees and scrabbled around for his glasses and wand. He finally found his wand and he sat down roughly.

"Accio glasses," He croaked. His glasses flew into his hand and he curled his fingers around them, shoving them on his face. The bruises smarted, but he couldn't stand not being able to see. Sometimes, when he was younger, Uncle Vernon would take away his glasses for days just because he knew it bothered Harry so much to be blind.

Harry got heavily to his feet and swayed for a couple moments before starting on his way. He didn't want to go to the Hospital Wing, but he doubted that Blaise, the only one in his year that had stayed for Christmas break, would let him come in and bleed all over their room. Each step was incredibly painful, but nothing that Harry had never felt before.

The halls were abandoned, entirely empty, which Harry was immensely glad about. He didn't want to know what he would do if he came upon another student.

He passed by the doors to the Great Hall, limping and holding tightly to his side. Suddenly the doors opened and he watched in horror as Snape stepped out of the doors. Harry continued on, hoping the man would leave him alone.

"Mr. Potter," Snape drawled. Harry stopped, stiffening. "Was there a reason you were not at the dinner?"

"I wasn't hungry," Harry said, wincing when his words were slurred because of his fat lip.

"Uh-huh," Snape said. "Turn around when I speak to you, Mr. Potter."

Harry considered making a run for it, but he knew that it would help nothing. He could barely walk, never mind run from someone. He slowly turned around, his ribs aching. He almost enjoyed Snape's look of shock as he looked over him, his dark eyes showing an emotion other than deep hatred.

"Someone attacked me," Harry said, hoping to break the silence. He licked his lips, recognizing the coppery taste of a split lip.

"Who was it?" Snape asked, his voice bristling. Harry shrugged.

"They took my glasses," He said by way of explanation.

"I see," Snape said evenly. "Come with me."

Harry followed after the man as he turned on his heel, not wanting to infuriate anyone else. His ribs ached and he bit back a groan as they went down the stairs. Snape opened the door and Harry limped inside.

"Take a seat," Snape ordered. Harry did as he said, perching on one of the chairs. Snape disappeared into a supply closet and then came back. Harry stayed quiet as Snape worked on his face. Perhaps it was because of the lack of care in his early years, or perhaps because he was just someone who didn't like it when people took care of his injuries, but Harry was always uncomfortable whenever someone was taking care of him. Add that to the fact that it was Snape taking care of him and Harry wished that he was anybody rather than himself at the moment.

"Alright," Snape said, wiping a finger on the rag he had brought over. "Now take off your shirt."

"What?" Harry asked, breaking away from his zone. "Why?"

"Because I can see you favoring your ribs," Snape said. "And I need to make sure that they are not broken and puncturing something. As much as I wish to not have to teach you, it is not because I wish for you to be dead."

"I…no," Harry refused, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"What do you mean, no?" Snape asked, an inkling of his usual fury on his face.

"I mean I do not want to take my shirt off for you," Harry said, battling his panic. He could refuse to take of his shirt. It was within his rights. Snape did not have to see his scars.

"Take off your shirt, now, Potter," Snape demanded. Harry shook his head stubbornly, eyeing a piece of the floor, just by Snape's foot, without looking up. Snape's long fingers touched Harry's shirt, pulling up slightly, and panic flood Harry. He stared at the floor, wishing to be anywhere than where he was.

And then, quite suddenly, he was.

Harry knew he should have been bothered by his suddenly relocation, but he was a bit preoccupied with his panic. It seemed to be growing, making his chest tight and uncomfortable. He took a deep breath, curling in on himself and ignoring the pain. He tried to think rationally. Draco trusted Snape. And Harry trusted Draco.

The door opened and Snape stepped into whatever room he had appeared in.

"Potter," Snape said lowly. Harry kept his eyes on the wall across the room, even as Snape came forward and crouched down next to him. "Harry."

Harry took a deep breath and then peeled off his shirt, doing something he had never done before.

Trusting an adult to take care of him.