The front door slammed shut, and in the middle of the hallway, Snape jerked Harry, up forcing the boy to balance on his toes.

"Where" Snape bellowed the word into his face, "did you learn that word?"

Harry wanted to scoff - after all the crazy mind games they had played with Snape almost insane, one swear word got him all riled up? But Snape's hold was tight on Harry's still-tender skin, so he blurted out,

"I don't know. On the telly or in London. Somewhere."

"If I ever hear you say that word again, especially at Hogwarts, you will be missing your tongue. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, wincing at his chafing skin.

"Good," Snape let him down. "First thing, we're taking care of this rash."

He dragged Harry into the living room, picking him up so he wouldn't step in the broken glass. Since the front windows had been smashed, the floor was covered with more glass and the rocks that Harry had flung.

Snape sat him down on a chair. A potions vial filled with dark liquid was nearby, and Snape uncorked it and commanded,

"Open your mouth."

Harry did, and Snape poured the potion in.

It tasted awful - big surprise there - but Harry swallowed it. His heart was still hammering from his tantrum, but having Snape near helped to calm him though Harry had no idea why. But he knew the moment Snape carried him inside that everything would be all right.

Making a face at the taste, Harry looked up at Snape, wondering what he had taken.

Another second later, and Harry felt the itchiness disappear from his body. He glanced down at his arms and saw the rash disappear.

"The antidote," Snape explained. "While you were falling apart outside, I Apparated to Diagon Alley and bought this."

Harry wanted to explode and demand why Snape hadn't done that yesterday and saved him all the torment and itchy skin. But Harry also feared that, now Snape had healed him, he would throw him out again. Harry gripped the arms of his chair tightly, watching Snape warily.

"But I see while I was on my errand, you broken my windows," Snape growled.

"You could have told me," Harry protested. "I would have sat here quietly while you went to fetch it. But you threw me out and - and - I don't see why -" Harry's whole face ached horribly and he could barely form the words. "I'm trying so hard - and you're so mean - and I don't understand why you have to be so - so mean and - and - angry at me -"

Harry's chest was tight, and his breath rasped in his throat.

"Just start crying and get it over with," Snape ordered. "I don't have time for your theatrics. I should make you leave now that you're healed."

Harry did the only thing that made sense at the time - he balled his hands into fists and brought them up hard into his forehead. The pain helped, but he felt crazy with rage and fury and loss and hurt and every awful thing he could think of. He wanted it to end - he wanted out, out of his own body and his miserable feelings.

"Stop it, Harry," Snape ordered.

Harry ignored and pounded his forehead again. He would beat himself black and blue and bloody and then he would really feel nothing but . . .

"I said to stop," Snape bellowed. "If you don't stop -"

Harry hit himself so hard his eyes glassed from the pain and he nearly knocked his glasses off.

"You impossible -" Snape snatched him up and fell into the chair, flinging Harry over his left knee.

Harry felt a moment's relief as he fell over Snape's knee - if Snape was spanking him, at least the man wasn't abandoning him. And Harry thought he could endure anything but Snape leaving him.

And then the first swat brought him back to reality. Harry did not try to hold onto anything, physically or mentally. At the second swat, his eyes filled with tears and he started sobbing by the third.

He felt Snape hesitate, but Harry did not even try to stem his tears. If anything, he cried even harder.

"You don't try to hurt yourself," Snape told him sternly.

"No, that - that - that's your -" Harry tried to say that was Snape's job, but he couldn't get the words out.

"You quiet down and stop fighting me," Snape ordered, holding Harry still. "I have never seen such appalling behavior. Screaming at me, breaking my windows, cursing, and then trying to punch your own head."

Snape spanked him again and again and again until he had landed sixteen impressive smacks on Harry's bottom. Then he stood the boy up, holding him by the arms.

Harry was a mess - tears streaking down his cheeks, and his hair disheveled and his lips trembling. Snape stared at him, hard, cold, and unbending.

"I have one thing to say to you," Snape's grip tightened around the boy's thin arms.

Harry waited fearfully.

"I hate you." Snape's voice was stony.

Harry blanched, making a wet gasping noise through his tears.

"I hate you so much," Snape said. "I hate that you look like him. I hate that she died to protect you. I hate that you have her eyes. I hate you so much - I could not hate you more than I do right now."

Harry thought he would be sick.

Snape shook his head in bitter disgust. "I hate you," he ground the words out one last, bitter time.

Harry closed his eyes, praying he would wake up at any moment find it was all a dream because he could not bear it another moment. He waited for Snape to slap him, to strike him across the face.

But the slap never came.

And then Snape pulled Harry to him. Shifting him up to sit on his knee, Snape hugged Harry tight to him, pressing the boy's head against his chest, protective and strong.

Harry had never felt more lost in his life, but he clung to Snape, digging his small hands into the man's shoulders and drawing closer and closer to him. Snape did nothing to push him away; instead, the man lifted his left hand to press on the side of Harry's head, through the unruly dark hair, holding him like a frightened little child who needed protection from the big, scary world.

Harry had no idea what they would do next or where he would go, but he felt safe in Snape's embrace. In a very disturbing way, he thought he needed Snape just as much as Snape needed him. Harry had no idea how he had become so dependent on the man that hated him so much, but he did not care.

"I don't want to leave," Harry sniffed into Snape's shirt.

"I know," Snape said quietly. He used his own sleeve to wipe Harry's face, brushing away the tears. "But why would you want to stay here with me? You've seen the monster I can be. I'm - I'm ruined, Harry. I loved your mother and then I betrayed her. I swore loyalty to Dumbledore, but I hate him for not trusting me. I promised to protect you, but I kidnapped you. I've done my best to see that you were unhappy, and any other child would have cracked long before this. Harry, you need to leave."

"No," Harry shook his head stubbornly, "I won't. Even if you take me home, I'll come find you. Even if I have to search all over Britain - I'll find you."

"It's not safe for you to be here," Snape insisted. "What if I go crazy and hurt you?"

"You won't," Harry protested. "You've tried, and I'm still here. I'm not leaving."

He hugged Snape tighter and pressed his head against the man, determined to show Snape that he was serious.

"You can't -"

"I'll leave when school starts," Harry said stubbornly. "That's in a few weeks, but for now, I'm staying here. I don't hate you anymore, and you're going to learn not to hate me. It's only fair."

Snape paused, then relented, "Fine, but come schooltime, you leave this house forever."

We'll see, Harry thought, but he only said, "All right."

"No more tantrums?" Snape's voice lowered slightly with an edge of sternness.

"No more tantrums," Harry promised. "Are you going to . . . ?"

"Spank you again? Probably."

Harry did look up at that. "Why? I won't be bad."

"When you do something dangerous or something that could hurt you, I have every right to spank you," Snape retorted. "I admit I was cruel to you that first night and later I might have taken things a bit too far -"

"Like dumping me in a dungeon?" Harry pouted.

"In the cellar," Snape corrected. "And I only did it because you were being disrespectful. And then you started swinging from trees by your suspenders."

"I was running away," Harry ducked his head into Snape's shoulder so he didn't have to look at the man. It was completely bizarre, but Harry felt calm and at ease. As long as he and Snape were talking, as long as Snape continued to hold him, nothing could hurt him. "I'm not going to run away again."

"You better not." Snape shifted and glanced over at the living room floor. "Look what you did to my house."

Harry finally lifted his head. "I can clean it up," he offered.

"You'll cut your fingers and drip blood everywhere," Snape sneered, sounding more like himself.

Harry sighed and squirmed off Snape's knee. He was exhausted, but it was still morning, and Harry thought some food might help him more than anything.

Snape pulled out his wand, pointed to the glass, and ordered, "Reparo."

The glass shook on the floor and then began leaping up. Most of the glass flew up to become solid window panes again, but the rest of the glass became empty potion vials, jars, and what looked like a bottle for firewhiskey.

"That was easy," Harry hugged his arms around his torso, wondering what would happen next.

"Indeed," Snape frowned. He stepped in the center of the rocks and made them disappear. "Come," he motioned with two fingers at Harry, "time for breakfast and then you are going to be working chores for the rest of the day."

"I don't want to work," Harry swiped at his face. It felt all dry and crusty, and his eyes ached.

"You will be working," Snape transformed one of the potion vials into a damp cloth. "And when you aren't working, it will be lessons and schoolwork for you. Just because you get to stay doesn't mean you get to have an amusing time. Besides, my garden is still a mess."

"Can't you fix that like you did the windows?" Harry asked as he slowly made his way towards Snape.

"No, because the windows were inanimate objects and the plants were not."

Harry finally reached Snape, and the man grabbed hold of his ear. Harry winced, more for show than actual pain because Snape held onto the side where it didn't hurt quite as much, and waited.

"Did you straighten your room before you left? Bed made, clothes picked up, teeth brushed?" Snape asked as he began wiping Harry's face.

Harry shifted, trying to draw away from the cloth, but Snape wouldn't let him. "I wanted to get something for my rash. I'll go straighten up now."

"You know the rules - no coming downstairs until your room is straight," Snape scolded.

It wasn't a rule, but Harry was used to Snape making up rules on the spur of the moment and lecturing Harry for not following the new rules.

"I'll go up and do it now," Harry volunteered.

"Yes, you will, and I'll be fixing breakfast. Do you like eggs and kippers?"

Harry nodded as Snape let go off his ear.

"Well, you're having plain porridge for breakfast."

Harry knew he should have seen that coming, but he thought quickly. "Then please, please don't put any cream or honey on it. I hate them. Sugar, too."

"Upstairs," Snape ordered.

Harry scampered up the stairs and went to his room. Though he had left it only about twenty minutes ago, the sight of the plain bedroom with his bed and the black figurines and tin soldiers beside the bed was the best thing had ever seen. Vampyr trotted up a moment later, and Harry ran over to him.

The dog leaped up, probably to put his front paws on Harry's shoulders, but he was too big, and Harry bumped backwards onto the floor with the dog on top of him. It hurt a little, but Harry reached up to wrap his arms around huge black dog. He gave a playful growl and started wrestling with the dog. Vampyr just pushed him down to the floor at first, but then the dog began to get into the spirit of the game.

Vampyr was a little too strong to really play with as he kept nearly crushing Harry, but it was fun all the same. But then Vampyr put his paws on Harry's shoulders and began to nuzzle his snout around Harry's throat.

"Oh, stop!" Harry tried keep from squealing. "That tickles. Eee, don't!"

The dog stopped and began licking Harry's face; Harry reached up to scratch the back of the dog's neck. He hoped that no matter what Snape did Vampyr would always be his friend.

"You better finish up and come down," Snape called from the stairs, "or your breakfast will be thrown out the window."

"No, I want it," Harry called. "Let me get the dog off me. Oh, come on, Vampyr. I'm hungry, and I still haven't made the bed."

Snape turned from the bottom of the stairs and went back into the kitchen. A bowl of steaming porridge sat in front of Harry's seat along with a glass of milk. Snape stared at it for a second, and then he added a dash of cream and a spoonful of honey to the porridge. Snape stirred them in and tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl before putting it in the washbasin.

I hate you.

What an awful thing to say to a child.

Snape's words kept echoing through his head. Why had he said them - why had he told the boy he hated him? When Harry had told him the same thing, Snape had been livid. Hearing those words from the boy, Snape had felt the same helpless anger he had experienced when James and his friends bullied him. Of course, it was stupid to let a child make him feel that way, but still . . .

What was wrong with the boy? Any other child would have been an emotional mess, but Harry -

"I'm here," Harry ran into the kitchen, Vampyr right behind him. "Can I eat?"

Snape turned to look at him. "Stop running and wash your hands." He got some meat to feed the dog while Harry plunged his hands in the soapy water and then wiped them on a dishtowel.

Harry sat down at the table and began shoveling up the porridge as fast he could. So hot and creamy and sweet and thick.

Snape sat down with a cup of hot tea as he watched the boy eat. There was something annoying about the way Harry crammed food into his mouth, an eagerness to satisfy his hunger while pretending like he had some manners. Snape had the feeling that if he wasn't there the brat would have put his face into the bowl and eaten like an animal.

Snape opened his mouth to tell Harry to get on the floor and eat his food like a dog, but for some reason he didn't. He did, however, throw a napkin at Harry and snap at him to sit up and slow down and stop being such a pig.

Harry finished the bowl and looked up for seconds, and Snape gave him more, but without any extras. Harry made a face at the plain taste, but Snape got up to get some more tea.

When he turned around, he caught Harry with his hand in the sugar bowl, trying to steal a large sugar cube.

"What do you think you're doing?" Snape roared.

"Come on," Harry protested, "you made me all upset this morning. You could at least let me have one sugar cube."

"No sugar," Snape pried the cube out of Harry's hand, marched over to the rubbish bin, and threw it in.

"I live here now," Harry protested. "This isn't my relatives where I have to steal food at night - I should be able to get food when I'm hungry."

"You have plenty of food," Snape stalked over to the table and took the sugar bowl off. "You don't need any sugar."

"You can't watch me all the time," Harry muttered.

Snape whirled around, but Harry was eating the porridge hastily.

Snape got another cup of tea and sat down. Though he would never admit, he was running out of ideas of things to do to the boy.

"You're not calling me Father," Snape said suddenly.

Harry froze with the spoon halfway to his mouth. "Are we still playing that?"

"We weren't playing anything," Snape insisted.

"We were pretending," Harry argued.

"We were not pretending!"

"You said we were going to pretend one thing until it became real for me," Harry stood his ground. "It's not real for me yet if you have to keep reminding me, so we're still pretending, so there!"

"Do you want to stand in the corner?" Snape demanded.

"No," Harry sighed over his empty bowl, "I'll keep pretending."

"We are not pretending!" Snape bellowed.

"Fine, but fathers don't throw their sons out the door," Harry shot back.

"Yes, they do."

"Your - your father kicked you?" Harry blinked. "Like you just did?"

"No, he turned me out the moment I came of age," Snape clenched his teeth together. "He - he - just forget it. Are you done? Why don't you go outside?"

"To get started on the garden?"

"No, just go play," Snape waved towards the door.

"All right," Harry got off his chair and headed for the door.

"What do you say for breakfast?" Snape prompted.

"Thank you, Father," Harry said calmly. He looked right at Snape. "And I mean that."

A moment later, Snape stood by the window, watching one dark-haired boy romping in the back yard with a dog as big as he was. Harry was careful not to step in the mud from the plants. Vampyr seemed to be a little on the rough side, and as much Snape liked to see the boy suffer, he wanted to make sure the dog did not hurt him.

Where would they go from there? Would it be easier to pretend that it had never happened, the whole awful morning?

Yet Snape could not forget the way Harry had felt in his arms, a scared little boy needing comfort and protection, desperately looking for a father figure.

And that thought scared Snape to death.