"-up there so he can see it when he wakes up!"

"He won't be able to see if it's up there- I'm going to put it on the table so it's close to him."

"What if he knocks it?"

"Will you two keep your voices down?!"

Harry groaned, opening his eyes ever so slightly. His hand instinctually went to his pounding head and he willed the pain that shot through his body away; being quite used to agony this was nothing to Harry. It was still rather annoying, though. He squinted, trying to see where he was. The room around him was completely blurry but he could make out the faint shapes of people with red hair walking around the space he was in.

"He's awake! Dad, he's awake!" A familiar shrill female voice exclaimed.

Red hair…

Harry almost leaped up in excitement. He had no idea where he was but he was 100% certain the Weasley's were around him. He absolutely loved Ron's family since he met them the first time three years previous at King's Cross Station. They were the exact thing he always wanted growing up and they were always so kind to him- Molly and Arthur especially.

"Woah- Harry, lay back down, lad. You're in no shape to be walking about yet."

The concerned voice of Arthur Weasley drifted closer to him, and Harry put his arm out looking for his glasses instinctually.

"Here." Mr. Weasley said softly while pushing him back down on what felt like some sort of cot.

Harry watched as his thin glasses were put against his face; letting him see the older man clearly. He smiled ecstatically and went to ask what he was doing in Little Whinging but then realized… He wasn't in Little Whinging- he was at The Burrow.

Now usually, Harry would feel bubbles of excitement upon entering his best friend's whimsical towering home but he literally had no idea why he was there- let alone how he even got there. He glanced down and saw he had a thick purple and green quilt draped over his lower half and was wearing what looked like Ron's old green striped pj's. His eyes then shot around wildly at the faces of Fred, Bill, Ginny and Mr. Weasley in confusion. A rusted snitch sat in Fred's left hand and Harry got even more perplexed at what was going on.

"Mornin' Harry!" Fred said cheerfully but was quickly shoved by his older brother.

They were all standing looking at him as if he had two heads besides Mr. Weasley, who had sat down beside him on the cot with a solemn expression painted on his slightly weathered face.

"Wha- How- How did I get here?" He asked in bewilderment, and Mr. Weasley looked to his children with slightly raised eyebrows and thin lips, nodding his head towards the kitchen.

They all immediately dispersed, and Harry furrowed his eyebrows in a completely befuddled expression as he watched them scramble away.

'What the bloody hell is going on?' He thought upon trying to recollect what had happened to make him get all the way to The Burrow.

"How are you feeling Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked kindly, giving him what was definitely a forced smile.

Harry titled his head. He looked like he was hiding something.

"I- I-'m fine, sir." He said slowly.

"How did I get here?" He asked again while staring at the older man intently.

Mr. Weasley looked down for a moment. He swallowed thickly as if to collect himself and looked back up at Harry after a few moments; clasping both of his hands together tightly and putting them on his knee.

"A few days ago, Ron came to me distressed about… your living situation." He said slowly, watching Harry's reaction closely.

Harry took a sharp breath in as he realized what he was talking about.

'Oh God, no… no-' He thought with pure panic.

He then winced slightly at the sharp feeling in his chest but ignored it as Mr. Weasley continued.

"We found you dying, son. Of injuries I know your relatives caused you."

Harry's heart began beating rapidly.

'Bloody hell, Ron- you didn't…. You didn't tell him… this… this isn't happening…'

For as long as Harry could remember, Vernon Dursley beat him and touched him in ways that made him sick to his stomach. His aunt hurt him too, but not in the ways his uncle did. It had always been complete torture, but he never dared to tell anyone or ask for help in fear Vernon would act on the threats he so often threw at him. He ended up telling Ron about the abuse only because his friend had witnessed his fresh belt marks while they were showering the first week of second year and basically forced the secret out of him.

Ron was extremely kind about it though, (which honestly surprised Harry- he thought if Ron ever found out he would see him as weak for not protecting himself) and held him tightly while Harry cried out the painful truths about what his home life was really like. He only told him about the physical aspect, though- deciding to leave out the sexual abuse part in fear that he would lose his best friend.

He felt… dirty… in ways he couldn't explain and really didn't want Ron to think that of him too. It was like he was constantly covered in a grime that he could never scrub off no matter how hard he tried; and in Harry's mind, no one would want someone as disgusting and vile as him for a best friend.

"Th-They… they d-d-didn-" Harry coughed slightly, feeling like he was beginning to hyperventilate.

"We know everything they did to you Harry- you had to go through extensive exams."

Harry looked at him in fear. Did they take him to St. Mungos?! He thought in shock. Mr. Wealsey looked at him cautiously as Harry began to go into a panic attack.

'Everything? How many people saw the cuts?!'

He went to get up- to flee- to go anywhere but where he was. Fear was coursing through his body and he wanted desperately to leave the situation he was in even though he knew he probably wouldn't make it far with how weak his body was feeling. His head felt like it was weightless- like he was on some sort of floating cloud and couldn't get off. Harry couldn't deal with his best friend's dad knowing what his uncle had really done to him; it made him absolutely sick to his stomach.

"Son, stop- calm down, it's alright!"

Arthur pushed him down and Harry let out a cry as he shoved him away with force.

He didn't want to be there anymore; they all hated him and he knew it. Ron was going to leave him, Fred and George wouldn't want to hang out with him anymore and Molly would never hug him again.

He let out a broken cry as he tried to get up again and was pushed back down; his mind snapping to the memories of his uncle's large hand pushing the air out of his chest forcefully. He began fully hyperventilating as his brain zipped quickly to a fragmented memory and he proceeded to hit Mr. Weasley in the chest like a small child would in a fit. He went to try and get up once more.

"None of that now, none of that." Mr. Weasley said softly as he brought Harry into his chest easily.

Harry wanted to fight the embrace but it felt so nice; so… familiar in some sort of way. He sobbed loudly; collapsing into the chest of his best friend's dad.

"I'm s-sorry!" He stammered, feeling so guilty for reasons unbeknownst to him.

Mr. Weasley began rubbing his back as he held him, helping his breath regulate and his panic dwindle ever so slightly.

"For what? What could you be sorry for?" He asked gently.

Harry thought for a moment but couldn't form an explainable reason for his guilt. He just sobbed loudly into the older man's robes in response, his breath hitching every few seconds painfully.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, son. Nothing at all." Mr. Weasley said quietly.

He begun to caress his thumb over his hair as he held his head to his robed chest. Harry just shook his head in response, not agreeing with his statement one bit. He had everything to be sorry for. He was a bad kid- he never did his chores right, he always made his aunt and uncle angry, and worst of all- he was dirty.

"What those muggle's did to you is unforgivable and they will be punished, Harry. You are a child and you did not deserve one ounce of the treatment you received- do you understand?" Mr. Weasley's tone had switched to a very stern one and Harry didn't respond so as to not argue.

He sniffled, hiccupping into the older wizard's maroon robes loudly. It was quiet for a minute before he spoke again.

"I'm so sorry they hurt you Harry. I'm so sorry Molly and I didn't know what was going on." He pulled back and raised Harry's head so his eyes met his.

"No one will ever hurt you again, son. I swear." He said with a determined, loving look.

Harry's bottom lip wobbled and he fell back into Mr. Weasley's chest. Despite all the times he was threatened death if he thought of telling someone- he believed him. His best friend's parents were strong wizards and he knew they could defeat any muggle; so as long as he was with them, he knew he would be safe. A tingling feeling began spreading through his chest and it wasn't guilt, nor was it shame; it was a feeling Harry had only felt when his godparents held him.

Love? Comfort?

Harry didn't really know. He didn't want to question in it either, but instead revel in it for as long as he could.

Both Sirius and Remus used to hug him just like Mr. Weasley was and he missed them terribly. They left a couple months previous to do Auror work and now were deep in Bulgaria or something much to his dismay. Harry had met them at the start of the previous school year when his godfather Sirius Black, was apparently free'd of charges he didn't care to share with him. He became a professor along with his other godfather, Remus Lupin, and taught Quidditch alongside Madam Hooch while Remus taught defense against the dark arts.

When Dumbledore introduced Harry to them after the welcoming feast the young Gryffindor was completely taken aback. No one ever told him that his parents had two best friends that made it through the war, let alone that they were his godparents. They were everything he dreamed parents would be too; inviting him for dinner and asking about his classes and constantly taking him to Hogsmeade on Saturdays. Harry was so sad when May came around and they were called to Auror jobs; he cried himself to sleep for almost a week. They weren't able to write due to how busy they both were which was even worse for the teen.

Mr. Wealsey and him stayed embraced for about ten minutes; with the older wizard sitting on the free space of the cot and Harry almost in his lap as he leaned into him desperately. The teen's cries were beginning to die down and were left to mere hiccups eventually. Even though Mr. Weasley was mumbling soft 'it's okay's and 'your alright's he still felt so stupid for crying. He never really let himself the luxury of letting his emotions out so it was a very weird feeling to be crying in front of his best friend's dad.

"Harry…?" The concerned, almost scared tone of Ronald Wealsley echoed into the quiet living room; bringing Harry out of his thoughts quickly.

The teen separated from the older wizard and immediately blushed upon seeing his best friend. He was leaning against the stone pillar by the fireplace dressed in blue jeans and his favorite Chudley Cannons shirt (which used to be black but is now an ash grey with how old it is) and if Harry was completely honest, he looked like absolute shit.

Heavy bags sat under his bright blue eyes, his red hair wasn't brushed and was sticking out at random places and he wore a look more guilty than Harry's. The young Gryffindor was so mad at his best friend but all in all he was still excited to lay his eyes upon him after the hard month he had.

"How- How you feeling?" Ron asked quietly, edging a few steps closer into the living room.

Harry shrugged.

"Not bad." He responded just as quietly; trying to give Ron a smile.

He blinked in surprise with what came next. Ron immediately ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug that absolutely took the wind out of his chest and knocked him back down into the cot. Harry used his elbows to prop himself up slightly as Ron tightened his embrace.

"Ron, careful! His ribs are still healing!" Arthur exclaimed.

Harry didn't give a damn about his ribs though- he hugged Ron back just as tightly. His heart ached though as a sound he rarely heard came out of his best friend's mouth.

He was crying.

"What-What's wrong?" Harry asked, trying to gather what he could be crying about.

He was alive, wasn't he? Ron didn't even cry when Harry was almost killed by Quirrell during first year; he just sat by his bed and ate his sweets while he recovered.

"You should have let me tell mum and dad!" Ron cried out angrily.

Harry frowned guiltily as Ron pulled back and sat properly on the cot. He glared at him fiercely- his sparkling blue eyes breaking Harry in a way he couldn't pinpoint. Harry sat upright properly.

"You know I wouldn't break a promise, but I should have! You should have let me!" He exclaimed, and hit Harry on his arm lightly.

"Ronald!" Mr. Weasley said aghast.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, rubbing where Ron hit a little bit. It didn't hurt, it was just an instinctual gesture.

"You almost bloody died, Harry! What if you had? What would I do?"

Harry pulled his bottom lip in to refrain from crying again. Guilt was spreading through his chest at an alarming rate and he wanted more than ever just to go back to sleep and pretend none of this was happening. He honestly didn't give a damn if he lived or died, but with a heavy heart, he realized Ron did. Of course he did, Harry thought stupidly. The teen often forgot to leave his own head at times and realize he did have family; Harry knew by watching others in his life that when a family member is sick or dying, it affects them just as much.

"Ron, if you are just going to-" Mr. Weasley stopped as Harry spoke.

"I'm sorry." Harry whispered to his friend, earning another smack to the arm.

"You should be!" Ron yelled angrily.

"Okay that's it." Mr. Weasley said, standing to go and pull his son up off the cot.

"It's okay, sir." Harry said quietly, looking up at the older wizard.

He stopped, frowning at Harry.

"Could… could Ron and I have a few minutes alone?" Harry asked politely.

He needed to settle Ron down and explain why he made him keep such an (apparently) dire secret.

"Of Course-" He looked to his son as he stood.

"-but you hit him one more time Ronald and I will get your mother."

Ron frowned up at him and with that, Mr. Weasley left the room; his maroon robes swishing behind him as he walked.

"Mum and dad are livid with me for keeping what was going on. They spent almost two hours yelling and crying." Ron said thickly, turning his head back to Harry.

"I'm sorry…" Harry said again- this time in a whisper.

"This… This all could have been avoided if I just told them, Harry. Why didn't you let me tell them?!"

Harry pursed his lips, looking down.

"I didn't… I didn't want anyone to know." He replied slowly.

"But why not?!" Ron asked bewildered.

"Because!" Harry cried angrily.

"I didn't want to be seen as weak! I'm the bloody 'boy who lived'-" Harry put up air quotes. "It's embarrassing that I can defeat Voldemort twice but not protect myself against my own family!"

Ron shook his head quickly.

"They're not your family. Family doesn't do that." He said flatly.

Harry wasn't prepared for that. It brought the tears back up to his eyes and he pushed them away angrily.

"Well, how the bloody hell would I know?!" Harry retorted in annoyance.

Ron stared back at him, stunned.

"I didn't really get the memo growing up, Ron! I didn't have a mum and dad to care about me and tell me the difference between right and wrong!" He yelled.

Ron suddenly pulled Harry back into him. Harry wanted to fight the embrace but was too tired and angry to do so. Besides, Ron's hugs always felt nice even if they were in a fight.

"Well you can share mine, then. Merlin knows they won't even notice another kid joining the ranks." He laughed lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

Harry snorted, pushing away leftover tears. Leave it to Ron to make him laugh in such a serious situation.

"You're mostly healed, so I hear." Ron said as he pulled back; looking him over for a second.

"But you should heal a little faster so Snape can get the bloody hell out of my house. Do you know how hard it is to have a wank with our bloody potions professor right above me?"

"What? Why would Sna-" Harry was cut off by a tall figure walking into the living room.

"Glad to see you up, Potter."

Harry blinked in surprise as Severus Snape walked up to where they were sitting. He dawned his usual attire of all black and Harry glanced at Ron as he blushed madly while looking at their professor in complete horror- probably hoping to Merlin that he hadn't heard what he just said.

"Professor?! What are- what are you doing here?" Harry asked in bewilderment, watching as Snape put some sort of black briefcase on the coffee table a few feet away from them.

"I have been the one healing you over these past three days." He said flatly, opening the case with a slight click.

"Why… why didn't I get sent to St. Mungos?" Harry asked curiously as he watched their potions professor pull out multiple hinged levels of potions from the black briefcase.

Snape scoffed.

"Believe me Potter, I am much more skilled than a regular healer at St. Mungos. I think a 'thank you' is in order." He said, turning their back to them as he searched through the case.

Harry nodded quickly.

"No- I-I- Th-Thank you professor!" Harry stammered out quickly.

This was all getting too strange for him. First, he had woken up in the place he always dreamed of being during the summers, next, he had cried like a baby in the arms of his best friend's dad and now- his potions professor was standing in front of him.

"Mr. Potter needs to take his potions, Mr. Weasley. Could you leave us for a moment?"

Ron rolled his eyes towards Harry and Harry refrained from laughing at his defiant expression.

"I can hear gestures, you know." Snape said lowly with his back turned to him.

"I'll go get some comics for you to read." Ron said quietly with a smile as he got up off the cot.

Harry nodded in thanks and Ron took off quickly. Harry's attention now was on Professor Snape, who was rummaging quickly through the many vials in his briefcase.

"How are you feeling?" Snape asked as he turned around with a vial of pink liquid.

Harry nodded up at him.

"Good, sir." He replied quickly.

"No, Potter- the truth."

Harry blinked.

"Sir?"

"I need you to tell me how your actually feeling, not what you think I want to hear."

"B-But… I feel fine. Honest!" Harry lied, looking up at him innocently.

Snape gave him a tense look and frowned.

In reality, he felt far from fine. His body felt like it had been hit by a truck actually. Harry could feel the pain in his ribs radiate every time he took a breath and for some reason his behind hurt worse than usual. His fear spiked at the thought that one of them had hurt him sexually like his uncle had, but it dwindled as reasoning kicked in.

'They wouldn't do that… their not like him…' He thought.

Snape accio'd one of the armchairs close to Harry's cot and sat down in it.

"Potter, three days ago I brought you back from the brink of death. I know very well you are lying to me so I will ask you again-"

He leaned forward in the chair giving him a stern look he often gave when reprimanding Harry at school. Harry gulped.

"How are you feeling?"

The injured Gryffindor looked away from him.

"My ribs hurt a l-little." He whispered deciding it best not to keep anything from the older man seeing as he could apparently see right through him.

Snape nodded in understanding.

"Anywhere else?" He asked.

Harry shook his head quickly.

"Potter." He warned with a glare.

Harry swallowed. Mr. Weasley had said he knew 'everything' that his uncle had done to him so he was assuming that included the sexual abuse as well; and if he knew, it was obvious Snape knew as well seeing as he was the one who healed him. It was honestly so awkward talking to his professor about all this.

"D-Down th-there hurts a little too." He said almost inaudibly.

It seemed Snape heard him though because he nodded again.

"And by 'down there' you mean your behind?"

Harry blushed madly. He was okay talking about the physical pain but not the sexual. It felt so wrong to mention- like it was a taboo subject only meant for his own head. He nodded slightly, playing with the frayed threads of the quilt that lay over his legs.

"Thank you for telling me that." Snape said in a softer tone.

Harry looked up at him in slight surprise. He never heard him have such a… not angry voice. Was this some sort of trick? he thought hesitantly.

"It should be sore for a few more days- as will your ribs and collarbone."

"Collarbone?" Harry asked in confusion, his hands drifting towards his neck.

He winced, just realizing how sore it was. He then took a swift breath as memories of what had led him to this state came flooding back.

"-any freakish happenings IN. THIS. HOUSE!" Vernon Dursley bellowed lividly.

*CRACK*

Harry screamed, falling to his knees with a loud thud; completely shirtless and bleeding profusely.

"I-" *CRACK*

"WILL-" *CRACK*

"NOT-" *CRACK*"

TOLERATE-" *CRACK*

"IT!" *CRACK*

Harry cried loudly in anguish, choking on bile that was beginning to raise in his throat from the pain his uncle's belt was causing his back. His body felt as if it was on fire. Not literally, but it may as well be. He didn't know if he would survive this lashing. He was currently on the living room carpet panting through the pain, and he wished with all his might that he could take back what he had done. And that his blood would stop dripping onto the carpet.

About twenty minutes previous, Harry had accidentally dropped a plate of his uncle's supper while delivering it to him. To his horror, the plate magically repaired itself on the floor in front of the table where it had smashed. Right then- upon looking up fearfully at his uncle's angry red face- he knew he was done for. He had done accidental magic before but not in a long time; he had gotten good at keeping his abilities at bay.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND BOY?"

His uncle's large hands turned him around with ease and he pushed him on his back. Harry let out a high pitched whimper from the feeling of the rough carpet digging into his fresh wounds and looked up at his uncle fearfully as he quickly knelt on top of his chest. Immediately, his eyes flew open wide as he heard multiple sharp cracks ensue under the large ammount of weight pushing into him.

Pure agony followed.

An excruciating pain shot through his whole body making him lose every ounce of air in him while his mouth hung open in a silent scream; the vision of his uncle's angry face blurring over him.

"ANSWER M-

Harry swiftly lost consciousness.

"-tter! Your safe, look at me!"

Harry's mind snapped back out of his thoughts and he loudly choked out in relief as the view of his potions professor's deeply concerned face registered in his consciousness as it sat mere metres away from him. He looked around wildly, not understanding what just happened. He felt like he was there- felt like he was back on the hard scratchy carpet of number four Privet drive but he wasn't; he was still in The Burrow's eccentric living room. His eyes gazed from the various pictures on the wall to the orange and yellow drapes hanging over the window as he panted breathlessly.

"I-I don't know what happened- I'm s-sorry… I'm sorry Professor…" Harry scrubbed his face with his palms and shook his head.

It was then he felt the tears staining his cheeks.

'Bloody hell!'

"You had a flashback- there is nothing to be sorry for." Snape said thickly while holding an expression of what looked like… sadness? But Harry knew better- and he was certain Snape hated his guts; so why would he care how he was feeling?

'Why did he even agree to heal me?' Harry thought suddenly.

"A flashback?" He asked, not understanding what he meant.

"It is evident you have the symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Potter." Snape said as he sat back down in the armchair.

"Post… wait what?" Harry cocked his head ever so slightly.

Snape huffed in annoyance; as if Harry was just supposed to know these things.

"It comes on after a traumatizing experience. Flashbacks and panic attacks are incredibly common after such events and are nothing to be ashamed of. So please do not apologize." Snape said quickly as he uncorked the vial in his hands.

"Oh…" Harry replied, watching him shake the vial of pink liquid slightly.

"What's that?"

"It will help your malnutrition. For now, you are not able to take solid foods and can only have this as nutrients."

Harry scoffed.

"I'm not malnourished!" He replied in annoyance.

Snape glowered at him as he bent towards him and raised the vial.

"Drink." He stated sternly.

Harry glared back at him but obliged. Thank God it didn't taste bad- Harry was used to the potions they gave him after Quidditch matches but still hated the bitter taste magical remedies usually gave. He gulped the thick pink liquid down and wiped his mouth. He hated that word- malnourished. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It made him sound even more weaker than he already felt. He didn't receive the nourishment he usually did at Hogwarts but he did eat bread and vegetables every couple days. Now that Harry thought of it though, he honestly couldn't remember the last time his relatives had let him eat something.

"Now-" Snape put his hands together and rested his elbows in his lap.

"You have a long healing process ahead of you, Potter. I've healed your bones, spleen and…" He swallowed, looking away from Harry momentarily. "-your internal injuries- but you are still completely malnourished and need to get back on a regular diet which will be a rather difficult process if not done properly."

Harry frowned irritably. Why was everyone acting like this was such a big deal? So he almost died; so what? He could count a thousand other times he was on the brink of death due to his aunt and uncle and he came through just fine.

"And the mental factor of your healing process is a concern as well." He said seriously, gazing into Harry with his deep black eyes that made Harry feel exposed as hell.

The teen huffed, shaking his head.

"I'm fine, professor."

"Nobody can be fine after they've endured what you have; that is completely impossible and you know it." Snape spat, making Harry recoil a bit from him.

He really didn't like angry tones. Hence why he was always so wary around the older man at school; he always seemed angry at him in some way. The professor then let out a long sigh, rubbing his palm against his forehead and slumped back in the armchair. Harry stared in surprise. Snape looked so… defeated. It was a huge contrast to his usually stoic and distant manner that the young Gryffindor so frequently saw while at school.

"I'm sorry for being cross, Potter." He said with a sigh, putting his hand down and looking at him with a grave expression.

"Those muggles… what they did to you- It angers me very much." He announced in a bitter tone, sitting forward again.

Harry cocked his head to the side slightly.

"Wh-Why? No offense, professor, but I uh… I was always under the assumption you hated me?"

Snape's expression turned to dismay immediately.

"I don't hate you, Potter- I hate how unruly you and your friends are, yes, but I do not hate you. I could never hate one of my own students."

Harry blushed. That was probably the nicest thing Snape had ever said to him.

"Oh…" He replied.

"I know you and I do not see eye to eye, but I… care for you Potter. I knew your mother when I was young and I know how much it would kill her if she saw you like this."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You knew my mum?!" He asked in bewilderment.

Snape nodded, a thin smile ghosting his lips as he looked away in thought.

"Yes I did. We… weren't as close anymore when she passed but I still held her in my thoughts."

"What was she like?" Harry asked suddenly.

He had heard stories about his mother and father from Dumbledore, McGonagall and his godfathers but it was mainly just repeated phrases; as if it was too painful for them to delve any farther into the memory of their existence.

"Kind." Severus stated, taking a heavy breath as he stared at Harry.

"Yeah, so I've heard." He mumbled in disappointment while looking down to his lap; wishing he had said anything else.

"She would always lend a hand to anyone who needed it. Strangers, other students, teachers- even the house elves in the kitchen who she attempted to lead in a coup during her second year." Severus added quickly as he noticed Harry's despondency.

Harry's head raised quickly and he let out a surprised laugh as he imagined his mother all of twelve years old leading the house elves out of the kitchens to go and take over Hogwarts.

"She tried to free the elves in the kitchen?!" He asked with a large grin playing on his lips.

Snape nodded, attempting to meet Harry's smile.

"She certainly did."

"How can you be surprised that I always cause trouble then?" He quipped.

Snape raised his eyebrows for a moment but nodded with a shake of his head and a rare smile.

"You right, Potter. You seem to match her delinquency pretty fairly." He let out a rare chuckle.

Harry looked down, his heart filling with joy. Small memories that people shared with him about his parents made him so happy but this was by far the best. It was quiet for a few moments before Snape filled the silence.

"I'm sure you are going to be cross with me but-"

Harry looked up quickly.

"I have sent an owl to reach your godfather's Head Auror in America where they are posted asking them to return."

"America..? I thought they were pos-" He stopped upon realizing what Snape had just said.

"Wait you what? Why?!" He said in an angry tone, already knowing the answer.

Snape gave Harry a warning look likely due to his tone he was using with the older wizard.

"As I said before your mental state after such an ordeal is a high concern and I feel it would be best for you to have your family by your side- as much as Molly and Arthur have agreed to house you."

Harry swallowed thickly. His eyes flickered away from his professor and to the coffee table quickly. Just the very idea of all his loved ones knowing the truth about him set him on edge; but having them all actually know made him positively ill. They were never supposed to know how weak he was- none of them were; not even Ron. Harry put his face in his hands in embarrassment and rested his elbows on his raised knees.

"Don't be dramatic about it, Potter. They're your godparents, after all. I'm sure they would want to be the first to know about this." Snape said as he stood and began closing his potions case.

"No one was." Harry mumbled behind his hands.

"What was that?" Snape asked and Harry heard him turn to face him.

"No one was ever supposed to know." He said louder, putting his hands down and looking up at Snape with fresh tears in his eyes.

Snape stared at him for a moment; his hardened expression softening considerably into what looked like remorse. Harry looked away, not really knowing how to process his professor looking at him in such way. Seeing Snape be kind to him was rather new and he was still trying to get used to it. Snape suddenly kneeled beside the cot Harry was on and put his cold hand on his. Harry stared at him in surprise.

"I know how guilty your feeling, Harry. I know that you feel shameful and you feel embarrassed-"

He paused, his dark black eyes beginning to somewhat gloss as his eyebrows furrowed. Harry was floored by the use of his first name and the vulnerability in his professor's eyes.

"But you needn't feel any of that. They are the ones that should feel the shame and guilt. Your aunt and uncle are disgusting, wretched individuals and I swear on my life that they will pay for what they've done to you."

Harry felt his hand be squeezed tightly. His lip wobbled and he scooted closer to the edge of the cot; slowly lowering his head onto Snape's shoulder. He had the overwhelming urge to be held again and attempted to see if his professor could fill that gap.

And Snape?

He quickly wrapped his cloaked arms around him with a fierce protectiveness that Harry felt to his very soul.