Eight by Lily Elizabeth Snape
Past Featured StorySummary: Harry is eight years old and is sent to live with Snape. Will Snape ever lighten up enough to notice Harry's problems? Abused!Harry, Guardian!Severus, No slash.
Categories: Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Dumbledore, McGonagall, Original Character, Other
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Angst, Drama
Media Type: None
Tags: Child fic, Snape-meets-Dursleys
Takes Place: 0 - Pre Hogwarts (before Harry is 11)
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Alcohol Use, Physical Punishment Spanking, Neglect
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 21 Completed: Yes Word count: 37901 Read: 305311 Published: 20 Aug 2006 Updated: 13 Aug 2009
Chapter Eleven by Lily Elizabeth Snape
Author's Notes:
Disclaimer: I own none of the Harry Potter ideas or characters or plots, or anything else thought up by the amazing author of the series. I’m making no profit of any kind from this story.

I am a wizard? I’m a wizard! Harry Potter, a wizard . . .’

“May I ask a question, sir?” I needed it to be clear. I wanted to believe there was a reason I was always doing everything wrong, being ‘freaky,’ and getting into trouble; other than I was just born horrible.

He had a slight grin on his face as he replied, “You needn’t ask first. In fact, the asking, in itself, is a question.”

Great! Again, I was trying to be good, but it just didn’t work.

“I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t realize . . . I wasn’t . . . I’m sorry.” As usual in such circumstances, my voice first betrayed panic, but by the time I’s done apologizing, it was a bare whisper; I’d braced for what would come. I had hope it wouldn’t be bad . . . My Snape had just shown me how much he would tolerate without beating me. But maybe that was just because the Headmaster had nearly taken me. Maybe he didn’t want the embarrassment of having a child taken from him, being a teacher and all.

“I believe you had another question, child. You may ask it.” He seemed exasperated, but level. ‘He’s working really hard at keeping himself from blowing up.’ I owed him so much already, for the clothes, the food, the . . . home! If I was bad and it frustrated him, he should take it out on me!

“I won’t tell, sir.” Would he know what I meant, or would I have to say those hateful words?

“You won’t get an answer if you do not ask the question, boy,” he growled as I winced.

He definitely did not understand. He watched me squirm for a moment before I pushed out the words, “I meant I won’t tell if you hit me again, sir.”

……………………………………………

Again. Ah, yes. I deserved this suspicion. Blasted temper of mine!

“I will not hit you again, Harry. You have my word on that.” I paused, hoping the declaration would stick in his confused little mind. After a moment of meeting my gaze, he let out a breath it seemed he’d not realized he was holding, and smiled.

“As for questions,” I continued, “I imagine you have a great many. You may ask questions whenever you please without fear of punishment. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

I waited for the all important query, but it was not forthcoming. ‘Patience, Severus.’

“Well?” A sarcastic tone. Was it better than a gruff one? He’d jumped. ‘Guess not.’

I’d have to work on that as well. I needed to start a bloody list!

“Er, um . . .” So quiet I could scarcely hear. ‘Wait for it, breathe you idiot!’

He finally managed, “Is all the bad things I do because I’m a wizard?”

Well, that was quite an important question. The simple statement belied a hearty misconception. ‘Perhaps someone at the castle will watch him whilst I call upon the filthy muggles.’

I surveyed him as he swayed with anticipation; as moved by authority’s whims as a willow whisp in a gale. Yet I also sensed he’d the tenacity to bend in two before breaking.

“Child, the short answer is yes. The bad things you are referring to, apparating, vanishing the wall, shutting the door . . . that is all accidental magic. But I hope you’ll come to understand that it’s not bad. It’s just an accident. Accidents aren’t anyone’s fault.”

He was not convinced.

……………………………………………………

All of a sudden, the fireplace glowed green and the Poppy lady’s face showed up. It was a bit scary, like something you’d see on the telly at Halloween, but it seemed she wasn’t hurt by it. ‘Must be magic.’

“Severus,” she whispered.

“He’s gone, Poppy,” he jeered and sniggered at the same time.

She stepped out of the fireplace all covered with cinder soot. My nose tickled with the raven dust, but I daren’t sneeze. It was my fault the hearth was so untidy. I took a quick look round. Everything needed swept and washed down again. My arms ached just thinking about all the work I’d cut out for me. ‘Bad Harry! Don’t think like that!’

My Snape and the Poppy lady were talking, reading over a thick piece of paper that could have been torn from a paper grocer’s bag. I took the opportunity to fetch a rag and soapy water to rid the floor of ash.

The Poppy lady stopped and took notice.

“Harry, dear, what are you doing?” She gave my godfather a reproachful look. ‘Uh, oh. Should I have waited ‘til she left? Am I being impolite?’

Godfather raised his eyebrows at me, and I started to stammer.

“I, er, um . . .”

“He likes playing chimney sweep, don’t you, Harry?” The tilt of his chin boldly insisted upon agreement.

Flustered, I croaked, “Yes, sir.”

“Harry, run along upstairs and freshen up,” he banished.

“Yes, sir.” I was already halfway to my room. I knew what he meant.

……………………………………………………

The information Poppy brought was not unexpected, but to have it all laid out on a flimsy parchment hurtled bile to wash my teeth. Choking, I sank into the nearest arenaceous shay. She recounted the confidences he’d uttered about his treatment, and handed me a list of potions.

“I’ve brought you the necessary balms and tonics, Severus. Before you start ranting - yes, I know you can brew them yourself. I wanted to save you the time. I knew young Harry would be distraught, and . . . Have you heard a word I’ve said?”

Giving me a sort of half smile, the kind where one purses one’s lips and frowns a bit, she took me off guard. Since when did my countenance reveal emotion?

“Yes, thank you, Poppy. I do appreciate the potions.” She was tactful enough not to mention the cost-prohibitive nature of many of them. “I would offer you a cup of tea, but my larder’s empty at the moment.”

“No matter, Severus.” She had more to say. The upward lilt at the last word of the sentence, the intake of breath, the chewing of the left side of her bottom lip. Would she spit it out?

Indeed, she would. “If you’re ever in need of a nanny, a few hours or longer, do not hesitate. Just pop on over to the castle. Young Harry is a precious gift; you realize that, do you not?”

I did.

Being the snarky bastard I am, I only muttered a noncommittal reply before holding out the pot of decades old floo powder.

………………………………………………………

I washed up, like he said, and hurriedly used the loo and drank from the trickling sink. Mister Professor Snape always seemed mad when he found me in the corner, so even though I knew that’s where I should be, I sought out another place in the room to wait for his arrival.

I decided on the windowsill, where I could busy my mind about flying over treetops like Peter Pan. I’d always felt lost, thrown about here and there. I fancied Tink would come and find me, sprinkle me with fairy dust. ‘Wait! I’m a wizard!’ Could wizards fly to Never-Neverland? But then I’d have to be eight forever, and I wanted nothing so desperately as to grow up and be at no-one’s mercy. ‘The other lost boys would probably think I was weird and stupid anyway.’

As my corner of the sky transmuted from steel-blue to blushing, currant-veined flames, I was lost for a moment in the startling beauty of the outside. Would my world always be bleached white and gun-metal grey? Would my view be limited to inky dirt on a ragged flannel and the puce rainbow of fading bruises?

As I heard the whoosh of the floo and click-clack of shoes floating up the rust-colored wooden steps, my perspective held only the licorice mud that glazed the inside of my eyelids.

“Ready, Harry?” I opened my eyes and blinked. He didn’t seem angry, more dismal and sad.

I tripped down from the sill, barely keeping my footing. ‘Thank goodness! He hates it when I fall!’

“Yes, sir,” I admitted hesitantly. I waited. Wondered.

He drew his wand, and I had to keep myself from flinching. I’d have to control myself. I waited for the order. But all he did was change his wizard clothes into regular ones.

“Take off your robe, child.”

Here we go.’ I complied, naturally, and took down my trousers.

“What are you doing?” he crowed.

Time to own up.’

“I should not have cleaned the floor while Madam Poppy was here, sir. I’m sorry, and I’m ready to be punished for, er . . .”

What exactly was wrong with it? I didn’t know.

“ . . . for doing that.”

He set his jaw and cleared his throat. We stood like that for a moment; me half dressed and him in clothes that looked as foreign on him as an iris blooming midwinter.

“Fine,” he bit out. “What do you suppose I’ll do it with?”

After all this time, and all I’d done, there was only one, venomous, unpalatable answer.

“A cane, sir.” My voice never wavered; I refused to allow it.

“Get yourself ready, then,” he ground out through clenched teeth while stalking out of the room.

Lying over the bed, I pinned folded arms under my weighted chest. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him return with the implement. How long had he been hiding it? Why had he waited this long to use it?

He drew up beside me, declaring flatly, “This is the very worst beating you will ever receive from me, Harry Potter. Do you understand?”

The End.
End Notes:
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