Title:
Twenty-one days

Prequel to:
A few days more

Author:
evil minded

Date:
November, 18th 2009

Timeframe:
Fourth year at Hogwarts

Summary:
AU / Death Eaters besiege Hogwarts. A spell from Dumbledore is going astray. A cauldron explodes during potions class. And the old castle enfolds its own magic. Can some students survive for the next twenty-one days?

Disclaimer:
Did you see Severus alive at the end of 'The deathly hallows'? no?
Do you think I would have had him died if I had written those books? no?
Then you know that 'Harry Potter' does not belong to me … nor does Severus … regrettably …

Rating:
M – Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16

Author's Notes:
Uhm … alright … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the – perhaps – sad language, nor for the subject of my writing …
Also, this is a story written for NaNo, a story written within thirty days only and even though I go over the chapters before uploading them – I do apologize if it might not have the same quality at one point or another than those stories of mine you are used to by now … thank you …

Warning:
Story contains bad language and swearing.
Don't ever use such, it's neither good manners nor proper use of language and never mind how 'cool' it might sound, it surely isn't a sign of intelligence. It won't get you anywhere and people will think less of you if you are unable articulating properly.
Story contains references to child neglect.
Child neglect is a really, really serious thing, and there are a lot of children in our world that are neglected, children that lack food, clothing, often love, and perhaps even a roof over their head – and closing our eyes, and pretending it does not exist – is no solution …
Story contains references to child abuse.
Child abuse is one of the most evil things, and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help but have to live without hope – and again, closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … instead show sympathy, and understanding … and handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once having been abused … with understanding and with help …
What does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

Previously in twenty-one days
"No!" He screamed at the man, trying to shake him awake, trying to get him back to life, trying to do anything to have him back! Snape just wasn't allowed to die! Not now! He needed him! He had promised …
He didn't notice the tears that ran down his cheeks, he didn't even notice the cold hand releasing his wrist and neither did he notice the heavy hand on his shoulder, shaking him, a deep voice calling his name, and a moment later he found himself in the arms that were not cold, that smelled of lavender and tangerine and something he couldn't place, that wrapped themselves around his body in a way that made him feel safe and that held him there, telling him that he was not alone.

Chapter eighteen
Day twelve - Friday, thirteenth of September
Cupboards, drawings, and because you cared

When he looked up into Uncle Vernon's face, he kept his mouth shut. Cold, angry, and loveless eyes stared back at him, just like they always looked at him. At five, Harry had been still little enough that he wanted desperately to change his uncle's eyes, to have the man looking at him like he did with Dudley. He wanted so much to be loved.

But he could never have that. He was only the freak. And he knew it.

Unable to stop it, Harry's eyes gave way to tears as small sobs escaped his lips – but when Petunia entered the room, Harry couldn't help but look up with longing at her. He would like to get just a small hug, like Dudley, or maybe a nice word from her, an ice pack for his hurt knees or just a short touch on his cheek.

But he could never have that either. He always would be the freak. And he knew it.

He would have liked to play with Dudley, to laugh with him, and to sit with him on the sofa in the living room to watch the telly. And he would have liked to share sweets with him. But the moment Dudley came to the kitchen, a small bag with candies in his hands, the other boy just laughed at him, while his parents screamed at him, Harry.

And he couldn't have that, too. Because he never would be anything else than the freak. And he knew it.

Growing up with the Dursleys had taught him one lesson over the years – he could never have what he wanted, and good things always got taken away. And now he was fourteen and he had learned to hide his joy over anything that could be used to hurt him later. It was with that reason in mind that he didn't want to admit that Snape made him feel loved – and that he had hurt him. The minute he did, even if it was only in his mind, he would lose it all.

And yet, that had happened - again. Because he was just Potter. And he should have known.

"You have done it, uncle Severus! You have adopted Harry! The son of James Potter after all!"

"Do you really think I care about Potter?"

Those words just had hurt, and he remembered them as clearly as if they had been spoken right now. Not that his father had been mentioned. He had long ago learned that his father couldn't have been the saint everyone always said he had been. He had long ago learned that there had been a deep rivalry between Snape and his father, that his father had bullied Snape, and that his father had married the only woman Snape ever had loved – and that his father had nearly killed Snape once. Lupin had told him so last year.

But it had hurt that he, Harry, was still just Potter, and that still, there was no one who cared, and the horrifying suspicion that he was being played with, that maybe he was tricked, whatever reason for, continued to persist. He shut his eyes, and attempted to still himself, his trembling, his memories, his rocking, his … his everything! He even would have stopped his life, if that had been so easy, just so he wouldn't have to feel the deep pain at those words anymore. Somehow, over the last week and a half he had managed to give in to the dangerous illusion that his Professor cared for him.

But that never could happen.

Because he was just Potter – because he was just the son of James Potter – because he was just the freak.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

The mattress was empty, and Harry was not beside it, neither was he anywhere else in the room. Well, perhaps the boy had just gone to the bathroom, and he sat back at the desk. He had gotten used to writing all the important things down in the late evening hours when the children slept, so he would have time during the day to be there for them if they needed him, and he knew how important that was, especially now. And he would have time during the day to also watch them, just in case, they tried anything stupid and tried to eat some of the remaining potions ingredients – of which only the poisonous ones were left by now.

Fifteen minutes later Snape frowned, and he got up, left the classroom, and went to the bathroom. He wouldn't do so normally, invading the children's privacy, but he knew how dangerously thin Harry was, how dangerously thin he had been in the beginning even, and now they were down here for eleven days, and it meant that the child had barely had anything to eat since then. In fact, he hadn't had anything at all for two days now. Anything could have happened to Harry in the bathroom. He could have simply dropped and hit his head, he could have lost consciousness because the lack of food, he could have …

No, he better did not think of that!

Reaching the bathroom he found it – empty. No Harry, no child at all, and with a frown he went back into the classroom, peering into the kitchen on his way back, into the rest room behind his office …

But then his heart stopped for a moment. What if … throwing dignity out of the window he ran towards his laboratory, sure that he would find the boy in there, trying to find anything edible in there. But he would only find poisonous things in there! He would … and he was in there for more than fifteen minutes already! The child could be – surely would be dead by now!

But the laboratory was empty. It was just empty – and luckily, so!

He couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief. The laboratory was empty. And that meant that the boy was still alive, but where in Merlin's name was he?

Coming back to the classroom, Snape looked around the room again, more closely now and his eyes fell toward the cupboard. He could see that one of the doors was halfway open and the tip of a worn trainer was peering out of it. A second time he breathed a sigh of relief.

The way the worn trainer peered out of the cupboard indicated that the child was not searching the small space for anything to eat, but that the child was sitting in this cupboard. But – why?

"You could be locked in a cupboard, couldn't you?"

Harry's words spoken to Weasley during their first days came back to his mind, and slowly he went over to the piece of furniture – and now he could hear soft sobbing.

"Harry?" He quietly asked, trying to keep the strain out of his voice, not wanting to startle or frighten the boy. And he knew how easily the child could be startled or frightened – and with a reason so. But Harry kept sobbing, not moving, not acknowledging that he had heard him.

"What is the problem, child?" Snape asked upon getting closer to the wardrobe, and he opened the other door to be able to see the dark-haired child. He better did not ask what he was doing in that cupboard. Not yet at least.

Well, he had been correct, and Harry was just sitting in the cupboard, sobbing, his knees drawn to his chest, and his arms placed above them, his face hidden in his arms. Snape knelt beside him, and gently touched his leg to gain his attention, but Harry only flinched, and the Potions Master removed his hand.

"What is it son, are you hurt?" He asked calmly, not sure where he took his calmness from.

Harry had his eyes closed trying to contain the tears, and he could see that he was more than just upset. The teen, however, gave him just a shaking of his head as an answer.

"Did you have a nightmare?" He asked then, but Harry denied it also.

"What is the problem, son?" He asked, frowning when the boy flinched at the word 'son' he had used. "Let's get you out of this cupboard and sit at your bed to talk …"

Again, the boy shook his head at him, cutting him off.

"Do you plan on sleeping in that wardrobe? It's a little bit crowded, don't you think?" He then asked, trying to lighten the mood by making a joke, even though he knew that it wasn't funny.

"My cupboard at number four was smaller."

'Mr. H. Potter

The cupboard under the stairs

# 4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey'

"You do know that you are not back at Privet Drive, don't you, Harry?" Severus asked seriously. The boy had not sounded as if his mind would linger there, in the past, he had not sounded as if he were lost in his memories. He was sure that Harry knew that he was at Hogwarts and in the potions classroom.

"Yes." Was all the teen answered and he drew his knees even more tightly towards his chest, wrapping his arms around them to pull them even closer. It was a protective pose that he knew Harry took unconsciously whenever he felt unsure or frightened, but without knowing what exactly had upset the boy in the first place, he could only guess.

"What happened, child?" He tried again and this time Harry looked up at him, and a third time Severus sighed with relief. Harry acknowledged him at least. But then he nearly hitched a breath at the hurt and the fear in the boy's eyes, and he knew that there was something deeper than simply hiding away in a small and dark space.

Harry looked up at the older wizard, watched the man's face that was set in his usual lines of worries, and he forced himself finally give the man an answer, knowing that he wouldn't do any good if he stayed stubborn.

"But you don't care about me, so it is of no matter, Professor." He choked out, hoping that he didn't sound as pathetic as he thought he sounded. "You don't have to … I mean … I know I am an unwanted and unlovable freak, and that…"

"Stop talking!" Severus hissed angrily. "And please do so right now!"

The harsh hiss startled Harry and he fell silent, shocked, backing further away at the Professor's outburst, staring at Snape, knowing that he was in so much trouble now. That had been Snape's reason after all. He would have his perfect revenge now. He was his father now, he had control over him now, and he knew how to hurt him more than ever, now.

Cursing himself Severus watched Harry who backed further into the corner of the cupboard as if he were expecting something, and Severus knew exactly what the teen expected, that he expected being beaten by him. He knew he had to bring his rage under control before he scared the boy even further away.

"My uncle would beat me and lock me in my cupboard, and aunt Petunia wouldn't let me eat anything for days."

Again, the boy's words came to his mind, and he forced himself to calm down and to keep his temper under control.

"What exactly caused that foolish thought crossing that idiotic mind of yours, Mr. Potter?" He asked, trying to sound stern but not harsh, knowing that nothing that particular child felt or said, was without a reason. Harry had every reason to fear being abandoned as he had been abandoned for all his life. And Harry had every reason to fear being beaten or locked into a cupboard, as he had been beaten and locked away – without any food – for all his life.

The question took Harry off guard, and he closed his eyes, sniffling. He tried to choke back the sob, but it seemed since the dam had broken, he couldn't stop crying, and it was just the more frustrating. Snape would just know how he could hurt him more in future if he showed him his weaknesses.

"So, your third rule is: no hiding of your weakness, exhaustion and pain and no teasing others with their weakness, exhaustion and pain either. Did I make myself clear?"

But Snape didn't care! He had said so!

"Good. Mr. Potter, you are to write this particular rule onto the blackboard."

He knew why Snape had let him write down this rule. And he knew that it was so he would remember it.

If the past few days and the adoption just never would have happened! It wouldn't hurt so much then! He wouldn't know … he wouldn't have had … if just … he wouldn't have hoped …

"Why would you care?" He finally managed to choke out, pressing his eyes as close as tightly as possible. "You said you didn't want anything to do with me, so why are you here, now?"

Furrowing his brow Severus bent his head to one side questioningly, not understanding what exactly the boy meant. He knew that Harry didn't pull at something, that he really thought he had heard him saying such a thing, but he couldn't remember having said those words.

"When did I say that, Harry?" He finally asked. "Where did you hear those words?"

"Earlier, in the office." The teen said miserably, looking away. "You were talking to Draco, and you said that you wouldn't care about me, about Potter. That's what I am after all. Just Potter, just like I have been the freak back with the Dursleys."

"Merlin!" Severus exhaled sharply. He would need to be more careful with what he said in that boy's presence. But honestly, he had found out over the years that most people never focused upon the words spoken around them or forgot about them as soon as one had uttered them. But now he had to rethink, as this child was just like himself.

He focused upon the words and their meaning, what had made him such a gifted spy in the first place, and Severus knew it was a habit learned early in childhood when one had to focus upon the words and how they were spoken, so one would know if it was safe to enter a room, to face an adult, or if it were wiser to retreat and hide.

Sadly, it was a habit they shared, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Merlin!" He repeated, running his hand over his tired face. "Come here, you foolish child!" He said, reaching out and gently taking the teen's both upper arms to pull him out of the small space, to pull him close, and he wrapped his arms around the boy the moment he had him out of the cupboard, careful of the delicate state the boy was in.

"Harry, you did not hear the entire conversation, as it seems." He said, running one hand over the boy's bony shoulder blades. "Draco has felt the change in both of us, and he has asked me if the adoption had gone well. And so, I told him yes. He was so proud that I had adopted you of all people, you, the son of James Potter, the son of a man that had tormented me for years. And he had said so. And I have told him that I do not care about Potter. But I did not mean you, Harry. I did mean your father. I did not mean Harry Potter, but James Potter. And it is true. I do not care about James Potter, and neither do I care about the fact that you are James Potter's biological son. I do not want you to forget your father, he has sired you, he has loved you, and he has in the end given his life for you. Never forget that, child. But that does not diminish the fact that you are my son now, too. And, considering the reaction you showed just now, I think that perhaps it is time to do more and to change your last name from Potter into Snape, if this is amenable to you."

"You really would …" Harry started, looking up at him startled. "But I'm not worth …"

"You are worth just that, you foolish child!" The Potions Master growled darkly. "Listen, son. I do know what your family has tried to tell you over the years, but that is not true. And if you can care for me, a man that has tormented you for years, then there is no way you are evil or bad or a freak. The Dursleys are the freaks here and their verbal abuse of you is just as evil as anything the Death Eaters spout. Their claim was just as evil as what the Dark Lord advocates. No matter how often the Dark Lord espouses his pure blooded nonsense it does not make it true. And no matter how often your relatives preached their evil, it did not make it true either. You are my son, Harry, I do care for you, and I will always want you, if you will have me?"

"Of course, I do." The boy sobbed, hiding his face in his chest. "I just thought that I lost you, and …"

"You did not lose me, you foolish child, and I do hope that you will learn, that – you will absolutely never lose me." Severus said, leaning back against the cupboard, so that he could hold the boy more comfortably in his lap. "I also hope you do not plan on sleeping in this cupboard here frequently, or else I will have to place some cushioning charms on its bottom. I am not a young man anymore."

"I'm sorry." The boy spoke into his chest, nearly clinging to him desperately. "I thought that I was going to lose you, and I was so sad, and I thought that … I mean … the cupboard always … but then it only got worse … and I couldn't … and …"

Frowning at the teenager's words he suddenly wasn't so sure anymore that Harry had really been aware of where exactly he had been a few moments ago.

"You do know that this situation here, in this classroom, is not the same one as being locked in a cupboard?" He carefully asked.

"I don't know." Harry shook his head against his chest, and the Potions Master couldn't help taking a deep breath.

"You are not locked in here for punishment, child, but because of an accident. And you are not locked in here alone either. It is not your fault, and no one has done so intentionally to hurt one of us. It just happened. And we will find a way out of here, I promise you that much. Somehow we will find a way out of here."

They sat there for a while before Severus finally released the boy and turned him on his lap, so he had him sitting in front of him, looking into the pale face.

"What got you so upset in the first place Harry?" He then asked. "And I do know that it has not been my words spoken to Draco only. I am sure that you are far too intelligent for that."

Startled Harry looked up into the dark eyes of the Potions Master, of the man that still wanted to be his father.

"Because you cared." He then murmured, unsurely, averting his eyes again.

Severus was at a loss to Harry's answer, he really hadn't expected that at all. But then again, he didn't know what exactly he had expected. Reaching up, he brushed his thumb over the boy's cheeks, brushing away Harry's tears, but he needed a better answer.

"Explain." He simply said, piercing the teen in front of him with a serious look. He wanted Harry to know that he would take it seriously, that he would not laugh, that he would not sneer, that he would not make a sarcastic comment.

"Because no one ever cared." Harry finally answered after a while, and he could see the boy struggling for words. "And it was better that way, because I always knew what to expect. But then you started to care, and it … I never wanted it to end, but … you just cared and that cannot happen, because the moment you stop caring it … you will forget me one day, I know it, because everyone does … and … well, I think it is better to never have loved than to have loved and then to have lost it."

"Not quite." He couldn't help saying, even though somehow deep down he could understand the boy's words, having felt the same way for a very, very long time as well. "It is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all. Tennyson, In Memoriam, 1850. Let me in, please." He then added and Harry looked up at him, startled. At the same time, however, he could see such a fragile trust, contraire to the absolute trust he had seen in the same eyes just hours ago, and gently he pulled the boy close against his chest again.

"Let me into your mind, child, let me see what is bothering you so much." He said, and after a moment he could feel the boy in his arms relaxing, could feel a weak nod coming from the boy's head against his chest, and gently he placed his hand over the damp forehead of the trembling child in his arms. He would not go the regular way of using legillimens, he would not invade while looking into the boy's eyes, he would do so while placing his palm onto the child's forehead, knowing it would be less painful and less frightening as he would be able to comfort the boy at the same time.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"You fucking freak!" He heard a man's booming voice screaming in a room that was ahead of him and slowly he walked along the corridor on the ground floor at what he guessed was number four, Privet Drive. "How dare you draw us as your family! You're not our family! You're nothing than a little freak, a fucking little freak that is stealing our time, our money, our food, and our space! You're not worth the space you're taking and you're not worth the air you're breathing! We should have dumped you in a lake with a stone on your feet when those people dumped you on our doorsteps because they, too, didn't want you! No one could ever want you! No one could ever love you! But we have to put up with you and you are complaining that now I have to try and to beat the freakishness out of you! You ungrateful little thing you!"

The louder the man's voice grew when he came closer to the room ahead of him, the more the man screamed at Harry, and the more trash that came out of his mouth, the louder the other sounds got, sounds of something hitting flesh accompanied by soft sobbing and stifled screams, the sicker Severus felt, and he realized that his son must have lived with these lies for all his life and that this was the reason as to why he so easily believed them. He finally reached the kitchen where he saw a bloody beaten child on the floor and the walrus of a man hitting him with a cane, not letting up. It looked like the boy had been in that position for a while.

A children's picture lay on the kitchen table, drawn with crayons, a large man with a moustache, a thin woman with a long neck and a bulky boy with blond hair. Beside the boy there was another boy, a small and skinny one with black hair, and it was clear who the family in the picture was. Another picture was taped to the fridge, a family of three, the Dursleys, probably the one Harry's cousin had drawn, leaving the black haired boy out as if already knowing that he didn't belong into the family, and as he saw it, they'd had to draw their families in pre-school.

Nothing else Harry had done, than what his teacher had expected him to do, and now he was beaten for it by his uncle, because he had drawn the only family he had known, as vile this family had been.

The boy on the ground had become still, and the fat man grabbed a bloodied arm and simply pulled the boy after him, throwing him into a small cupboard that was built into the wall under the stairs and he could see yes, this cupboard was smaller than the one that was in his potions classroom.

Retreating slowly, he pressed the small and thin body even closer to his chest, wordlessly, since he just didn't know what to say, and he could feel the tremors coursing through the small body, tremors that were not only because of the cold down here but making it clear to the Potions Master how much terror the child felt.

Lifting the small body into his arms easily, his heart clenched at the thought of how afraid this little child was, for even though he was a teenager of fourteen years, emotionally he just was that, a little boy, and Severus' not existing heart hurt for him while he carried him towards the mattresses where the others already slept peacefully, laid him down and just lay behind him, keeping the boy within his arms until he fell asleep.

"I won't forget about you." He whispered. "I won't abandon you. And I won't hurt you." He promised the sleeping child.

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

He hadn't slept much last night. At first, he hadn't been able to fall asleep anytime soon, had been laying on Harry's mattress, his son in his arms, watching him, thinking, not able to take his eyes off the child. And then he had woken early, remembering the night, remembering the horrors this child had been through, and he hadn't been able to go back to sleep, again watching the child, again thinking while running his hand through the boy's messy hair.

The boy had, after waking, looked at Severus with wide eyes that held such fear that the Potions Master had thought for a moment the Dark Lord must have appeared behind him – or maybe Vernon Dursley.

"I am sorry, sir." The boy finally said, looking at him with large and haunted eyes. "Because of yesterday. I've made a terrible mistake, and I can understand if you don't want to …" It was clear that the boy took all his strength together to get the words out, and the thin face was even paler than it normally was nowadays, a fine film of perspiration covering the forehead, and the little muscles that were left on the bony fingers twitching with nerves. "… I mean, if you don't want to have me anymore."

"Harry." Snape started, sighing, watching the child for a long time. "I would not have adopted you, if I would give up on you so easily. An adoption is nothing that can be held up one day and thrown away the other day. It was a permanent decision we have made yesterday. You are my son now, never mind what and I do want you."

"But I've made a mistake!" The boy said stubbornly.

"What mistake have you made, Harry?" He asked seriously. "You have done nothing wrong. You have not made a mistake."

"I have!" The stubborn child insisted. "I have mistaken your words towards Draco, and I have …"

"Yes, you have mistook my words." Severus said, still seriously. "But only because you have not heard the entire conversation I have had with Draco, and only because Vernon Dursley has destroyed every ounce of trust you once might have had. It was not your fault, and I will not have you blaming yourself for the evilness your relatives have bestowed upon you."

"But I should not have blamed you of … I should not have mistrust you, that was not appropriate and I …"

"Do you really think that in such a situation, such as ours, there are rules for what is appropriate and what is not?" He asked, not knowing how he could make it clear to the boy. "While I do not like it, that you are unßable to trust easily, I do understand it. And I do not blame you for anything, so please, do stop blaming yourself."

"But … but I … I don't want to be so stupid all the times, and so … so …" The boy drifted off, not knowing what to say, how to describe his emotions and Severus sighed.

"How is it that you count a mistake higher than a good thing?" He asked. "You have done a lot of good, you foolish child, yet you do not see it, you do not allow yourself to see anything else than a mistake you might have made."

"Because the good things are over in a flash, a mistake lasts a lifetime." The fourteen year old teenager he still held in his arms finally said and he couldn't deny the truth of the child's word. A truth many adults would not see. But this boy did.

He, however, did not like the fact as to how the boy had come to this conclusion. With beatings, starvation, and being locked away in a cupboard for only Merlin knew how long. With hateful words and growing up in a loveless house, without any physical or mental comfort any child needed and craved for, with relatives that used him as a slave and nothing else.

His anger must be clearly visible on his face, considering the teen's reaction, trying to get away from him, and he tightened the hold he had on the boy, tried to get his composure back under control.

"You will stay right here where you are." He growled before he got serious again. "It is not your fault that you have been abused, Harry." He then said. It is not your fault that you react in this way either. Do not forget that. Do never forget that. None of this is your fault, and you have made no mistake."

Again there were no further words between them for a long time, just like during the night before when he had not known what to say to the brutality he had seen in the boy's mind, speechless at the brutality he had witnessed, bestowed upon a child that couldn't have been older than four or five years old, considering that the boy had attended pre-school for only half a year because his relatives had feared that their abuse on the boy would be discovered.

How could anyone bestow such a brutality upon a child so young? How could anyone deny food to a hungry child? How could anyone ignore a child's pleas for something to eat? Or how much cruelty had someone to bestow upon a child until said child wouldn't beg for something to eat anymore despite the pain hunger caused? How could anyone beat a child until it was an unconscious and bleeding mass? Until deep and long scars were left covering said child's back? How could anyone be deaf to the cries of a child in such pain? Or how long did such brutality take place until said child had learned to suppress his cries despite the pain?

And again, he was speechless, horrified and again his fingers that stroked over the boy's pale face trembled.

"Sir?" Said boy asking got him out of his thoughts and he looked down into the green eyes.

"I wanted to ask you something." Harry said hesitantly.

Still not really trusting his voice Severus nodded encouragingly.

"Yesterday you called me 'son'." Harry began nervously and Severus waited, but the boy just bit his lip and stared at his clasped hands.

"Well, you are my son now, aren't you?" Severus prodded gently when it was clear that the boy would not continue on his own.

"Uhm … well … yes …" Harry started to stutter, squirming in the Potions Master's arms. "I mean … if you … then … I mean … would you … may I …"

"I would be very honoured." Severus said, knowing what Harry wanted to know and at the same time knowing that Harry just didn't know how to ask such a question. And how should the child know how to form such a question? He had never before had someone whom he could have asked such a question.

Some of Harry's fear and emotional pain, misery, lifted and he found himself smiling a little.

"Really?" He asked, nearly startled.

"Well, I am your father now, am I not?" Severus confirmed seriously. "Me, the evil dungeons bat, the most hated teacher here at Hogwarts, being a father, imagine!" He added jokingly.

"Thank you … dad." The boy said shyly, trying the word on his lips.

Severus' lips quirked upwards, too. "I should be the one thanking you, son. It means a great deal to me, the fact that you – despite everything you have been through – that you are nevertheless ready to trust me, Harry, that you actually want to acknowledge me as your father."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

"Sir!"

"Uncle Severus!"

"Professor!"

"SIR!"

"Professor Snape!"

The shouts of different children came through the open door of the office, and immediately he knew that it wasn't a call for nothing, but that something wasn't as it should be. They sounded as if something had happened, they sounded scared, and he hurried through his office and back into the classroom. Draco already came running towards him, pale and a startled expression on his face, and he just took his hand and started pulling him out of the classroom into the direction of the corridor that led to the bathroom, and he understood, started running by himself after taking Draco on both his shoulders to gently push him out of his way.

Harry!

Harry had gone to the bathroom for a shower after the others had had their shower. He always took his shower either before anyone was awake, or he was the last one to shower, and Severus knew exactly why.

He had taken the key from the bathroom a few days ago, after Theodore had dropped in there. He really had had trouble getting the door open without magic, with muggle methods only to reach the boy and directly after that he had just taken the key and had locked it in his desk in his office. The other children didn't mind, really, but Harry did, afraid of anyone coming in to take a shower, too, and seeing him in there, especially his scars.

For days now he had tried to convince the boy that it wasn't his fault, and that he didn't have to be ashamed of them, that his relatives should feel ashamed, but not he, and still the boy felt that way.

Reaching the bathroom, he didn't even have to open the door, one of the other children – most likely Draco or Theodore – who had found Harry laying on the floor had left it open and he hurried inside, knelt beside the still form of his son, and for a moment he feared that he might be too late, that Harry might be …

Gritting his teeth, he reached out and placed the fingers of his right at the boy's neck, feeling for a pulse, and with a sigh of relief he closed his eyes. There was one. Weak, but present.

"We were in the kitchen, waiting for Harry." Draco quietly said. "He said he would come as soon as he had his shower, but he never came and then we heard the 'thud', and we went in the bathroom."

"We know that he doesn't like it." Theodore quickly added. "But we were worried and …"

"It is alright, Theodore." Severus quietly said while rubbing the fragile body of his son dry with the towel that was anything else than dry itself. It would have to do, it would be better than wrapping the completely wet boy into his cloak. It was just too cold down here and he had to keep them all as dry and as warm as possible. "I am glad that you looked, Theodore, do not worry."

Pulling his cloak from his shoulders he wrapped the boy into the warm fabric and carried him back into the classroom where he laid him onto the mattresses and covered him with his blanket, noticing that again his hands shook, his fingers trembling with fright, and only slowly his own heartbeat slowed down.

He had known that this would happen. Draco had already dropped a few days ago, as had Theodore, and it had been a tiny miracle that Harry had lasted so long, Harry, who was the worst of them.

He took a look at the boy's scars while he was at it, noticing with some satisfaction that at least Harry's injuries had healed without any complication, the scars a soft red now, some of them a soft pink, but none of them had gotten infected. He also checked the boy's other vitals, frowning at the soft rattling that was still audible coming from his lungs, and he didn't quite know what to make out of this one. It hadn't gotten any better, and neither had it gotten worse.

If the lungs were infected, then it would have gotten worse by now, the potions accident had been days ago by now after all, but they hadn't. Yet – neither had they gotten better yet.

Sighing and still frowning he checked the rest of the boy's body, just to be sure, but he found nothing aside from the frightening seriously underweight. Well, he at least now knew that there wasn't anything wrong with Harry aside from the lack of nutrition. The problem, however, was that – he couldn't change that. If there had been something else wrong with the boy, he – perhaps at least – could have done something, he perhaps could have given Harry a potion, but he had nothing to give the boy for his lack of nutrition.

Even the nutrient potions he gave them didn't work as they should, as there was just nothing those potions could work with. Those potions only delayed the inevitable, nothing else.

"Sir?" Came Harry's small and frightened voice, getting him out of his thoughts and he looked down at the child, slowly reaching out to place his hand on the boy's chest, preventing him from even trying to sit up and hoping he would not frighten the boy any further with the movement. He had seen the boy losing consciousness due to a beating from his uncle and he could only guess how often the boy had woken in this blasted cupboard after being beaten to a bloody pulp by the man. "What happened?"

"Hush, child." He said, trying to sound calm. "Don't sit up yet. You have lost consciousness in the shower. Did you hit your head or anything else? Does anything hurt?"

"No." The boy stubbornly claimed, and Severus knew that it was a lie the moment Harry shook his head to convince his words, wincing at the movement and he lifted his eyebrow at the brat. "My head." The boy had the courtesy to add at the disbelieving look he sent him. "A bit."

"Do you feel dizzy?" Severus asked, running his hand over the boy's forehead, shoving strands of black hair out of the pale face. "And do not lie to me. Do not hide your physical state from me, Harry. This is far too serious."

"A bit." The boy admitted reluctantly, averting his eyes.

"Look at me." Severus commanded, grabbing the boy's chin, and turning his head so he had to look at him. "Follow my finger with your eyes."

He moved his forefinger from one side to the other in front of the boy's eyes and watched them following the movement. Satisfied, he held up four fingers in front of the boy's face.

"How many fingers do you see?" He then asked.

"I'm fine, sir, please." Harry groaned embarrassed.

"Harry, please." Severus said. "I might be a Potions Master and therefore I also might be a healer, but only to some extent. I am not a healer completely and neither am I a specialist. I only can do so much. So please, do try to cooperate."

"Four." Harry finally said, giving a sigh. "I'm fine, really."

"You are far from fine." Severus growled darkly. "And I am not ready to take any risks. You do not have a concussion, I believe. Did you hit your head or anything else when you fell?"

"Uhm … I don't think so." Harry answered.

"Alright." The Potions Master finally said, leaning back and sighing. "I want you to stay in this position for at least an hour or two more before you get up. And I won't allow you to take a shower alone from now on."

"What?" Harry asked startled. "But …"

"There are no buts, Harry, this is final." Severus growled darkly. "And it is not up for discussion. You won't take a shower alone from now on and neither will the rest of you. You will choose a partner for taking a shower. You boys can ask for my assistance if you are not comfortable with it, but you won't go alone. I have to apologize to the girls that we have no female teacher down here right now. You will have to pair with another girl. I don't want to see one of you taking a shower alone. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Came the answers from the children, and he looked at Harry who bit his lower lip at his words.

"Harry?" He asked, his black eyes piercing the boy.

"Yes, sir." The boy answered and he gave a satisfied nod.

"Good." He said. "Whomever I find disobeying this particular rule, will find him- or herself writing a three parchment essay about responsibility."

Breåk· … ·~†~*~*~*~*~*~†~· … ·Łine

To be continued

Next time in "twenty-one days"
poison and history

Added author's note
thank you for reading - and yes, I would be glad if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you
also, like in the past, I have installed the house cup – with each review, please state your house, so that your house can get points. There won't be loss of points, only gains … may the best house with the most reviews win …
Please also note that I have done a 'go over' concerning the house points as I have lost track over the years. I have them now saved in a chart where I can keep them easily updated – I have also installed a new category: Hogwarts, as one reader or another (Jostanos, just for example) prefers to review for Hogwarts itself instead of one of her houses … and who knows, perhaps one day a reader might come from another wizarding school to add their review … thanks to all of you for reading and reviewing …

House Cup:
At the present time it looks like this:

Slytherin 68
Gryffindor 36
Ravenclaw 25
Hufflepuff 08
Hogwarts 20