Draco stood in the expanse of passageway between his and Harry’s bedrooms. He had left his friend’s room to allow some privacy for Severus and his son, but he’d waited outside in the hallway for his godfather. The events that had just transpired a few moments ago kept replaying over and over in his head. What the hell had happened to Harry? And, if what he suspected was true, what were they going to do? He cringed when he thought about the words that had spilled out of Harry’s mouth in his fear induced hallucinations…he didn’t know what else they could have been.

He was growing more and more impatient. He just needed to talk about it, get it off his chest, and find out what Severus planned to do about this. Draco paused in his thinking. Did Severus realize as well? Because if he didn’t realize what Harry’s reaction just now could imply, Draco wasn’t sure how he could enlighten the older man. But, being who Severus was and his extreme intellect, Draco was fairly certain his godfather would already have figured it out. At least, he hoped as much.

The blonde was on the verge of walking back in Harry’s room just to get Severus when the man walked out. Of course, he should have been more patient, considering what the man was dealing with beyond the door-less room, but Draco was just as concerned and scared. How could they help Harry? The more he thought about it, the more adamant Draco became in his thoughts. Harry had been abused in the most horrible manner imaginable, in Draco’s opinion. But now that Severus was standing before him, the younger Slytherin wasn’t sure how to ask what he knew must be going through his godfather’s mind.

“Is he okay?” he settled for asking, hoping it would lead into more difficult subjects.

Severus ran a hand roughly through his hair and motioned for Draco to follow him downstairs. In the short time it took to reach Severus’ study, neither spoke a word. Draco was too nervous to speak and Severus was so entranced in his thoughts he almost forgot Draco was even with him. He didn’t want to leave Harry by himself for long, even if he was under thee influence one of his more powerful dreamless sleeping droughts, he couldn’t bare the thought of staying away from him for long. But, Draco knew, he could see it in his eyes. And he somehow couldn’t have this conversation with Harry in the room.

Draco sat down in the chair across from Severus as the older man settled down in the chair behind his desk. Draco waited impatiently as his godfather shuffled some papers and placed them in a drawer and then proceeded to organize the quill and ink on his desk.

“Severus?” he asked. It was obvious to him that Severus was stalling, and this fact only proved to make him even more anxious about his friend upstairs.

Severus stopped his incessant organizational skills and lowered his eyes to meet his godson’s. “Draco…” he trailed off, trying to gather his thoughts. He suspected the blonde teenager before him knew the truth, but what if he didn’t? He didn’t want to betray Harry in any way and he knew instinctively that Harry wouldn’t want Draco to know until he was ready to tell the Slytherin himself. He also knew Harry wouldn’t want anyone to know, and yet, more people knew than even he was comfortable with. Then Severus had to remind himself that he still had no proof that what he and Fred Weasley suspected was true, but the idea that they were mistaken seemed more and more unlikely as he placed all the pieces together.

Unable to stand the silence a moment longer, Draco decided to broach the subject himself. “From what Harry was saying during his nightmare,” started Draco, nervously plucking at the leather of his chair with his fingers. “I think something happened when he was with his Uncle. Something…different,” he hoped Severus got his meaning.

He knows, thought Severus. How could he not? The older Slytherin sighed and ran his hand through his hair for about the hundredth time that night. “Something different?” he finally asked. He needed to know how much his godson knew before revealing the suspected truth.

Draco momentarily blanched at the question, having not expected it at all. He had hoped Severus would answer for him, but alas, it seemed he would have to propose his thoughts on the matter and hope to Merlin he wasn’t right. Taking in a deep breath he asked the question that had been on his mind since he’d walked into Harry’s bedroom earlier that night. “Did his Uncle…” he paused, realizing it was harder to say that he’d imagined. And the thought that someone had possibly done that to Harry made him angrier than he ever thought he’d be on the emerald-eyed boy’s behalf. It was funny what friendship did to a person, he mused offhandedly before approaching the subject once more. “I think his Uncle may have molested him,” he said it all quickly and in one breath, then he waited nervously for Severus’ reaction.

Even though he had heard this once already and had suspected it himself, he felt his breath taken away when he was told once more. He brought his hand to his forehead and learned forward.

Draco took this as an affirmation and actually felt his heart clench as he imagined what that monster had done to Harry. He shivered in dread, thinking of how small Harry was, even compared to Draco himself, but to his big oaf of an Uncle? How could he have possibly defended himself against him? How far had the man gotten with Harry, forcing himself on Harry, before he’d been able to work up enough energy to magically shove him away? How scared must Harry have been? He clenched his fists in rage as the thoughts kept tormenting him.

Severus took in his own deep breath before raising his head to his godson once more. “Yes, that’s what we believe happened.”

“We?” asked Draco, curious as to who else knew about this. And a little bit miffed that no one had told him before.

“Yes, Mr. Weasley was the first to bring it to my attention. I had suspected beforehand, but when he told me he suspected the same and after the nightmare tonight, I realized it was true,” he said sadly.

“Mr. Weasley, as in Fred Weasley?” he asked, knowing Fred had been the only one to see Harry yesterday before Severus had kicked everyone out of the house.

“Yes.”

Draco nodded; it actually made sense that Fred noticed it, as he knew he and Harry had grown very close over the past year or so. But, back to the matter at hand, “What are we going to do?” he asked, clearly at a loss on how to help his friend.

“I’m going to talk to him about it when he wakes up. All we have at this point are suspicions. It’s highly unlikely, but we could all be wrong.”

Draco didn’t believe that for a second and discarded the notion as wishful thinking. “We’re right,” he remarked, his voice rough with emotion.

Severus nodded. “I believe we are as well.”

…………………………………………….

It wasn’t until late the next morning when Harry finally awoke from his Dreamless Sleep induced slumber. He lay there in his bed and stared at the ceiling as the events of last night unfolded in his mind. He cringed as he realized he had acted like an utter idiot last night in front of not only his father, but Draco as well. How could he have done that? He remembered waking up feeling confused and then he’d felt a hand on his back and had just lost it. He shuddered as he recalled what he had done. He had thought Severus was him. A cold feeling of dread swept through him at the mere thought of his Uncle and he curled in on himself in a vain attempt of comfort.

He wanted his father and yet he didn’t want him. He wasn’t completely sure he wouldn’t cringe away from Severus when he reached out to him and that was something he couldn’t handle right now. Severus would want an explanation, as he knew everyone wanted one. They wanted to know what happened with his Uncle when he’d been kidnapped. He felt a lone tear streak down his cheek and angrily wiped it away with his sleeve. He didn’t want to talk about it and feared he’d be made to.

As if his thoughts had called him forth all on their own, Severus knocked gently on the doorframe of Harry’s room and walked inside. “Are you awake?” he asked softly, as he couldn’t see Harry’s face which was buried in his pillow.

“Yes,” he muttered, keeping his face hidden.

This scene in itself was enough to make Severus’ heart skip a beat as he watched his son hide from him. It was a testament of how frightened he really was. Severus was hard pressed not to stalk out of the room and hunt Vernon Dursley down. His anger was quick to leave him though, as Harry finally turned around and gazed at him with sad, haunted eyes.

Unsure of what to say to him, Severus simply walked forth and sat down on the edge of Harry’s bed, far enough away as not to cause Harry any panic, but close enough to be able to touch him if the need were to arise. “We need to talk,” he said slowly, with a hint of determination.

Harry felt his heart rate increase at the serious look on his father’s face and was suddenly worried. “About w-what?” he asked apprehensively.

“About what happened with your Uncle,” he stated, not willing to skirt around the issue any longer.

Harry shook his head emphatically and scooted further away from his father. “You know what happened,” he said quickly. “He kidnapped me and later I escaped,” he said quickly, refusing to meet his father’s eyes.

If this wasn’t an indication that something was wrong with Harry, Severus didn’t know what was. He was denying it before they’d even spoke of it. And Harry was terrified, the look and feeling was coming off of him in waves.

“Harry, I think both you and I know that isn’t completely true. There’s more that you’re not telling me,” he said gently, not wanting Harry to run from him.

Harry shook his head again and stared intensely at the comforter still surrounding him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know why you’re asking this, you know what happened!” he exclaimed.

“I only know what little you told me and what was obvious upon first sight of you. I know he hurt you, Harry, but did he do more to you?” he asked, not yet ready to say what might have to be said if Harry didn’t answer him honestly.

“More to me?” asked Harry; his face a mask of incredulousness, and Severus knew in that instant Harry was hiding the truth from him. “He did nothing more to me!” he said hotly, standing from the bed and taking his night-robe from the back of the chair, he quickly put it on and pulled it closed tightly against him.

The boy refused to look at his father however, and Severus stood to meet him in the middle of the room. “Do not lie to me,” he said sternly yet gently. He didn’t wish to cause Harry to fear him, and he honestly didn’t want to force an answer out of him if he couldn’t give one to him, but Harry needed to talk about this or it would tear him up inside.

Harry violently shook his head and glared at his father. “I’m not lying!” he yelled, taking a step away from Severus when he made to approach the boy. “There’s nothing more to talk about, so please, just leave me alone!”

Severus sighed, distraught. “Harry, if there was nothing more going on, why are you reacting like something did?” he asked softly.

Harry balked at him. “I’m not acting like something did! I told you, I don’t even know what you’re talking about!” he cried.

“Harry,” he started, slowly walking towards his son. “Can you explain the way you reacted this morning, then?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” asked Harry quietly, taking another step away as his father grew progressively closer to him. Then it hit him. Severus meant what happened when he’d woken up from his nightmare and had acted like such a complete arse in front of his father and Draco. Harry shook his head again. “I was just confused,” he tried.

“You were terrified last night, Harry,” he began gently. “You begged me not to hurt you, and you begged me not to touch you,” he said, watching his son in worry as he still continued to deny the truth.

“Not you,” he started shakily. “I didn’t realize it was you.” He was aghast at himself for believing for one instant that Severus was his Uncle and that he would do to him what Vernon Dursley had done when he was a child.

Severus had to force himself to keep talking instead of rushing over to pull his distraught son into a hug. It wouldn’t help Harry at all, especially not when he was so against being touched. “Who did you think I was?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Harry wrapped his arms around his chest protectively, his eyes pooling with tears as he took yet another step away from Severus. “I don’t remember,” he said quickly, gazing down at his slipper-adorned feet.

“Please, Harry,” asked Severus, his concern now thick in his voice. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m right here; I won’t let him hurt you ever again. Just tell me what he did to you, please!” he begged. Severus would have never thought he’d resort to begging his own son for the truth, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And he was willing to do just about anything if it helped his son. He couldn’t stand to see the anguish he was going through and not do something about it.

As the moisture pooled over in his eyes, a few tears began to make their way down Harry’s pale face. “Please don’t make me,” he pleaded.

Severus felt as his own tears started to collect in his eyes and didn’t know if he could put Harry through this much longer. “Harry, child, I have to know if I’m to help you at all. I asked you this question once before and you told me no. Now, I’m going to ask you again. Please just answer me truthfully and we’ll get through it Harry, I promise you we will. I won’t think less of you and I won’t push you away. I love you, remember that,” he said softly before asking once more the question he had asked so long ago. He condensed his question into a few words for Harry’s sake. “Did your Uncle sexually abuse you?” he asked quickly.

He knew immediately he had by the shattered look on Harry’s face. He had taken another step backwards and had ended up pressed against the wall, looking for all the world like a trapped animal. He shook his head as more and more tears fell unchecked down his face. “No, no, no,” he mumbled, beginning to sob brokenly. “He didn’t, please, he didn’t!” he sunk down on the floor, pulling his robe around him once more in a protective gesture.

Severus couldn’t help but go to him in the face of his son’s emotional torture. “Harry,” he said softly, fearing his son’s reaction if he put so much as a hand on him. “I’m here, I’m right here. I’m so sorry, Harry,” he said softly. Any doubt he had kept carefully locked inside his soul had shriveled and died as he watched Harry fall apart in front of him.

When Harry collapsed into his arms, sobs wracking his small frame, Severus held onto him for all he was worth. No words were spoken as Severus gently stroked the boy’s hair and rocked him in his arms, letting him cry himself out. Snape had no idea how long they had sat there on the carpeted floor. After what seemed an eternity Harry began to pull away from his father, looking ashamed.

“Harry?”

“He did,” muttered Harry, looking down at his lap.

Severus was confused for all of a second before he realized what the boy was saying. “He did?” confirmed Severus. He could see more tears had started to fall from Harry’s emerald eyes and felt his heart break all over again.

“Yes,” he replied brokenly. He suddenly stood from his position on the drafty floor and keeping as much distance as he could from his father, he walked towards the bed. “Can I get dressed now?” he whispered.

Severus was torn between talking to his son and doing as the boy wished. “Harry, we need to talk about this,” he started carefully.

Harry shook his head, looking at Severus desperately. “No, please. Not now, I need time,” he said, his eyes pooling with tears once more.

Severus couldn’t stand to see him this way. He’d made the boy cry at least three times in the past hour, he didn’t think he could do it a forth time. But, he realized, sometimes you had to do things that were unpleasant in order to help. He approached the boy from behind and stilled when he saw Harry stiffen.

“Harry, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but you’ve kept it to yourself long enough, wouldn’t you agree?” he asked softly.

Harry’s shoulders slumped in defeat before him and Snape had to resist the need to reach out and touch those shoulders to comfort his son. “We’re going to discuss what happened Harry, you can’t go on like you have. You’re falling apart. Please, let me help you,” he whispered, and dared to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

As anticipated, Harry tensed at his touch but didn’t move away. “I don’t know if I can,” he whispered.

Severus rubbed the shoulder under his palm encouragingly. “I could give you a calming drought,” he said. “It would calm you enough to be able to talk about what happened, but would still leave you in control of what you want to say,” he added when he felt Harry’s muscles tense once more beneath his hand.

“O-okay,” he managed to get out, feeling as if there really wasn’t any choice in the matter. But, the calming drought would hopefully make the things he was about to say easier.

Severus gave Harry’s shoulder one more supportive pat before calling Cella to him.

“Yes, Master Severus?” she asked once she’d popped into the room.

“Cella, please retrieve a calming draught from the laboratory,” he asked.

Harry was glad for the short reprieve and sat down on his bed while he waited for Cella to return with his potion. He grew more and more anxious, however, as he waited, and wished for nothing more than the floor to open up and swallow him whole. The thought of telling his father what his Uncle had done to him in the car, and even before when he was a small child, left him feeling nauseous. He didn’t know if he could do this. But once more, he realized there wasn’t much choice. As Cella reappeared, he was actually thankful for it. He wanted this over and done with as soon as possible.

Cella immediately brought the vial to Harry, who downed it as soon as he had it in his hands. Almost instantly he felt so much calmer, like a slight weight had been lifted, but he still felt slightly anxious about what was about to proceed. Harry had a seat on his bed and instinctively pulled the blankets around him, almost like a shield.

Severus sent Cella back to the kitchen and grabbed the chair closest to the bed to sit in. He faced Harry and took in a deep breath. Where to begin? The beginning, he supposed.

“Can you tell me what happened after your Uncle took you in his car?” he asked, straight forward and to the point.

Harry nodded, feeling the potion even stronger now that it had had the chance to take full affect. “He took me to a side street that was abandoned and stopped the car,” he said quietly. “He blamed me for Aunt Petunia and Dudley’s deaths.”

Severus felt inclined to point out that that was most certainly not true. Harry nodded. “I know, but he still blamed me. He hit me,” he said, feeling distanced from the entire thing and was extremely glad he wasn’t feeling all of those horrible emotions that coincided with thoughts of his Uncle. “He hit me a lot. He told me I was going to regret ever being left on his doorstep. He hit me again and then he was on top of me,” his voice wavered slightly, but the calming potion seemed to become stronger in that instant and he no longer felt the fear. “Then, I remembered. I remembered everything he used to do to me,” he whispered, shocked he was telling Severus this much.

Severus was also shocked. “What do you mean, everything he used to do to you?” he asked quietly, not wanting Harry to go closed lipped on him again.

Harry shook his head as if trying to clear the cobwebs. “He used to touch me when I was little,” he whispered, looking at the comforter once more.

Severus felt himself grow nauseous as he realized what Harry was saying. That monster had been molesting his son since he was a small child. He felt his heart clench tightly and had to forcibly grab the arms of the chair he was sitting in if he planned on staying there. The desire to maim and kill Dursley was almost too great to resist. Then Harry started talking again.

“I think I must have forgotten,” he continued. “When he realized I remembered, he wanted to do it…to do it again,” he whispered. It seemed the potion couldn’t damper everything Harry was feeling, for tears started to roll down his pale face once more. He looked up at his father and cried. “Why did he do that to me?”

Severus swept Harry into his arms and was thankful the potion still in Harry’s system allowed him to feel content in his father’s arms. Once more, he rocked Harry gently and positioned himself on the bed so his back was supported. “I don’t know, Harry. I don’t know why people do the things they do,” he said, shaking his head in dismay. “Did he molest you then?” he asked, referring to the sexual abuse.

Harry flinched at the term and shook his head. “He tried. He put his hand down my p-pants, and I snapped. I’d been shocked before that. My magic built up at that point, and I blasted him straight out of the car. I thought I’d killed him,” he whispered.

Severus knew a moment of wishing he had. But, he wouldn’t wish the guilt of Vernon Dursley’s death on his son for anything.

“Then I ran away to find you. He almost caught me again, but you know what happened after that,” he said softly, clinging to his father’s shoulders as he remembered all that had happened that horrible day.

Severus was silent for a while before asking Harry a question. “How long had he been abusing you?” he asked, avoiding the term molest as he’d noticed how it affected his son.

Harry shrugged tiredly. “I think it started when I was 5 or 6. He stopped when I got the letter from Hogwarts, though. They were probably afraid of getting caught by a fully trained wizard or witch,” he stated. “After the letters, he beat me so badly to make sure I’d keep my mouth shut about it, but afterwards, I forgot completely.”

It was so hard to listen to Harry talk about his past. And he was appalled that Harry’s Uncle had beaten him so badly that the trauma led him to forget all that had been done to him. He had to suppress a shudder as he realized just how horrible his son’s life had been, and how cruelly life continued to treat him. He vowed to do anything within his power to protect his son. He’d thought the same thing before, but this time, he meant to keep his word, no matter what he had to do to keep it.

Harry was growing more and more exhausted as he talked of his past to his father and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep for the next hundred years. Maybe then he’d be able to forget all of this and never remember it ever again. It was a nice thought; one he knew would never come true, but nice nonetheless. He gently extracted himself from his father’s arms, the feel of them making him nervous, and he went to sit on the bed again.

The silence between them was deafening, and Harry didn’t think he could stand it with Severus just sitting there watching him for much longer. “What?” he finally asked. He could tell the man was thinking about something, and the look on his face wasn’t comforting at all. What could he possibly be thinking about?

Severus took in a deep breath and leaned forward from his seated position. “You said he’d been doing this since you were 5 or 6?” he asked suddenly.

Harry’s entire frame stiffened in worried anticipation. “Yes,” he said softly, carefully.

“How far…” Severus had to force the words out of his mouth. “How far did he go with you? Did he ever rape you?” he asked bluntly but softly, hoping he wouldn’t startle Harry into not speaking, but needing to know the truth. Severus was instantly aware as a violent shudder racked his son’s body. He watched as Harry pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

He didn’t speak for a long time and Severus began to grow worried that he would never answer, but the silence seemed to be an answer all in itself. If he thought his heart was breaking, how must Harry feel? When he’d begun to lose all hope that Harry would even answer his question, the boy fidgeted with the blankets and finally looked Severus in the face, but avoided eye contact all together.

“I, I think so,” he mumbled, clearly uncomfortable and scared.

“You think so?” rasped Severus.

Harry nodded his head. “The memories, they aren’t all there yet,” he said, pointing distractedly to his head. “I didn’t even realize he’d been doing this until that day in the car, but I’d been dreaming about it ever since the attack at King’s Cross, when he had grabbed me and shook me, remember?”

Severus didn’t think it was likely he’d ever forget. “Yes, I do,” he said slowly as a light bulb seemed to blaze to life within him. “All those nightmares and restless nights, they were your memories coming back?” he asked gently.

Harry nodded again. “Yes. But, I didn’t think they were true because I couldn’t remember it ever happening. The nightmares were so horrible I just couldn’t sleep anymore. And now, I realize they were all true and he’d really done that…” he trailed off as tears started glistening in his eyes. He wiped them away frantically, ashamed at himself for losing control in front of his father so often that day. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled tiredly. “They just won’t stop.”

Severus sighed. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, Harry. This is a very difficult time that you’re discussing with me. And you’ve only just remembered. I’m sure you’re going to be a little emotional for a while, it’s only natural, please don’t feel ashamed,” he coaxed in his soothing rumble of a voice.

Harry nodded but didn’t look too convinced. Nothing was going to be the same again; he was still in a slight state of shock over the entire situation. Everything had been fine, and then one day everything changed, everything was horrible. He wished he’d never remembered what happened when he was a child, what disgusting things his Uncle had done to him. He shivered again at the mere thought. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to deal with this. Drawing his hands up to his face he allowed the tears to fall. And fall. And fall. He didn’t think they’d ever stop. He didn’t think he’d ever feel better ever again.

………………………………..

Severus wanted so badly to hold his son and comfort him and make everything that he was feeling just disappear. But, he couldn’t do that; he could only do what was in his ability to do to make him feel better, which at this point seemed like nothing. He couldn’t hold him without causing him to tense in fear. There was only so much they could talk about before Harry shut down. And now, Harry wanted to go back to sleep, but only with the aid of a sleeping draught. Severus was concerned by Harry’s incessant desire to sleep that he’d developed since he’d remembered his past. It wasn’t healthy and he couldn’t allow it. Convincing Harry of this had almost turned into an argument between them. Sadly though, Harry had backed down the instant Severus had raised his voice. He’d cringed even.

“You know you needn’t fear me, Harry,” he said softly, carefully approaching Harry from the side.

Harry nodded and gazed down at his feet. “I know. I didn’t mean to. It was just an instinctive reaction. I’m really sorry,” he said quickly, looking more miserable than before.

“I told you already and I’ll tell you again. There’s no need to be sorry, you did nothing wrong. If anyone should be sorry it should be me. I never meant to scare you and I don’t intend to in the future, if I can at all manage it,” he said apologetically.

After another attempt to apologize from Harry, Severus shut him down and switched topics. “Why don’t we try and get some food in you?” he encouraged. Harry seemed to eat less and less lately, and now Snape knew why. He tried to ignore the sudden image that flashed into his mind of Vernon Dursley hurting his son. If Harry had to deal with the real life memories every day, he could only imagine how hard it must be to simply get through a day, let alone function as he normally did, which included eating. And he would probably feel that way for a long time to come. He doubted Harry would have an appetite but he tried just the same.

As predicted, Harry turned down the idea of a light lunch. His father, however, pushed the issue.

“Harry, you haven’t eaten well in the past few days. Please, just humor me and at least have a small bowl of soup,” he said, having called Cella while the boy went to clean up for the day in his bathroom.

Harry looked towards the steaming bowl of soup that the house-elf was holding at her side and felt a small rumble in his stomach. Apparently he was hungrier than he’d thought, or his stomach was just betraying him. He thought the second option was fact based, as even though he felt hungry, he also felt slightly nauseous. But, soup was better than something more filling, like the steak and roasted potatoes he could smell coming from downstairs in the kitchen. Obviously Draco and Severus planned on a heavier meal than he did. Not that he minded.

Nodding hesitantly, Harry took the tray from Cella and placed it on his desk after shoving away some schoolbooks to make room. One book fell to the floor and Harry cringed at the sound it made as it hit the wooden floor. “Sorry, sir,” he muttered hesitantly as he sat down at his desk.

Sighing, Severus went over and stood beside Harry’s seated form. “Again with this issue?” he asked, trying to ignore the way his son kept flinching when he so much as said something to him.

Harry shrugged. He wasn’t sure anymore what was going on with him, how he should react, what would be considered an offense in his father’s eyes, and what he could possibly do to become a better son. He had somehow started to feel in the past few weeks that he wasn’t doing enough around the manor and that Severus would start to find him an annoyance and a burden. It was an irrational fear, probably brought on by the horrible nightmares and memories from his past, but Harry didn’t exactly realize that yet.

His father wouldn’t allow another apology, so Harry just sat forlornly in his chair and sipped some broth off of his spoon. It wasn’t so bad, a little salty, but it was warm and it felt good on his sore throat. Crying so much had left it aching and painful. He noticed his father was still standing beside him and wondered why he didn’t just go downstairs and let him be. In one sense, he wanted his father to stay, but in another way, he just wanted to be left alone. He didn’t like the feeling of someone hovering over him, like Severus was doing now, and the thought of a presence standing behind him had started to make him extremely nervous. He placed his spoon back in the bowl carefully so he didn’t spill any of the soup from within and turned to face his father. The man had been looking at him critically, leaving Harry wondering what the man had been thinking.

“I can eat on my own,” stated Harry unnecessarily.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I’m well aware of your eating habits, Harry. I was just wondering if perhaps you’d like to join Draco and I downstairs in the dining room?” he asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head. He had been glad when Cella had brought his meal up to him, as he didn’t like the idea of facing anyone else, and especially not Draco. The blonde had seen his hysterics from last night and he couldn’t bring himself to face him just yet. He still felt too embarrassed and basically unworthy to be in either of their presence. They’d have a better meal without his dismal existence sitting with them. He shook off his melancholy thoughts as his father tried once more to get him to have dinner with them. He refused, stating he’d rather stay up in his room.

“I just need some time by myself. Please, dad?” he nearly begged when Severus had seemed more or less intent on making him go downstairs to sit with them.

The look on his son’s face was all it took to make Severus cave and he allowed his child to stay upstairs for some time alone. He knew how difficult this all must be on Harry. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what it must be like to have been abused in such a terrifying manner and then forget about it, only to remember it years later. He worried so much about his son, wondering what must be going on in his head. He wasn’t sure if it was such a brilliant idea to leave him upstairs on his own without anyone to watch him, but he hoped Harry would know he could talk to him whenever he needed to.

He briefly touched his son’s shoulder before leaving the room, wanting to give one last fleeting touch of comfort, but wasn’t sure if any touch would be construed as comforting any longer. Or something his son would now fear even more than before. He flinched himself at the thought of his son never allowing contact again, but was only slightly reassured when his son accepted the touch slightly better than he had previously. He only tensed.

……………………………………….

Severus only made it to the second floor of his Manor before his frame doubled over in emotional agony.