“I need you to rest some more,” Severus told Harry, not altogether unkindly. “Your body has taken some pretty harsh treatment these past couple of weeks. You need to recuperate.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your cousin will stay with you for a little bit while I go and get you some lunch. You are not to leave your bed. If you do, the consequences will be… unpleasant.”

Harry gave an involuntary shudder. He didn’t know what constituted as ‘unpleasant’ in Snape’s book, but it sure as hell wasn’t anything good. Sighing, he used a sheet to cover himself as he stripped down to his briefs before pushing the blankets aside, his face red in shame. Still, there was no point in dirtying in the sheets with his freakishness. He curled into a ball to stave off the cool air, but it wasn’t so bad… Warmer than the cupboard had ever been, in any case.

“Uh, Harry?” Dudley’s voice was soft and uncertain.

Harry turned to him, a little confused. His memories of the past few weeks were hazy at best, but he did remember that Dudley had at least attempted to tend to him. It didn’t escape Harry that without the food and small comforts Dudley had brought him, he might not still be alive. And yet… This was Dudley, his cousin Dudley, the same boy who had mercilessly tortured and beaten him when they were children. People could change, he knew, but he wondered if it might be too little, too late… That’s when he saw the shadows under Dudley’s eyes, telling the tale of the many restless nights he’d kept careful vigil of Harry, and the mottled bruise of a handprint across his face… Too small to be Snape’s, could only be Vernon’s… Harry found the thought nearly incomprehensible. He realized that Dudley had been a victim, just as he had. Of course he would have tortured Harry, as a child. In truth, they had been struggling for the same thing all those years; love and acceptance. Dudley had gained his at Harry’s detriment, but Harry knew that he couldn’t be angry with him. He hadn’t known better, and now that he did, he was trying to make things better.

“Thanks, Dud,” he said, his voice scratchy. “For the food and stuff. I appreciate it.”

Dudley swallowed, suddenly nervous. Harry noticed then that he was a bit thinner than he had been at the beginning of summer. He wondered, suddenly, how Dudley had gotten the food. His parents had allowed him to indulge himself, food-wise, but they surely would have noticed if he was eating enough for a whole other person. Vernon and Petunia had never even suspected that Harry was getting more food. It could only mean that Dudley was cutting back on what he actually ate, at least this summer. The thought made Harry feel a bit guilty.

“Dad shouldn’t have starved you,” Dudley whispered. “And Mum shouldn’t have allowed him to… I just realized I didn’t want to be like Dad. If I let him treat you like that, and didn’t interfere where I could, then I was as bad as he was.”

Harry nodded. He wasn’t sure if he agreed with that or not. He doubted he’d have had enough courage to stand up to Vernon like that. Then again, neighbors and everyone had always cooed over Dudley, calling him brave and intelligent and decent hearted. Perhaps it wasn’t all as construed as Harry told himself it was. Thinking back, Dudley didn’t seem so bad towards other people. Just towards Harry, and lately, that wasn’t even true.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened again and Snape strode in carrying a tray of food. The man’s face was, for the most part, impassive, but when he saw Harry, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Further proof that even in the wizarding world, there was something wrong with Harry. Snape usually had enough decorum not to let a mere boy break past his defenses.

When the man spoke, though, it was not to ridicule Harry. He said merely, “You’ll catch your cold if you carry on like that, Potter.”

Before Harry could work out what that meant, Snape had set the food on an end table and pulled the sheets and comforter up over Harry’s thin body. Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, and Snape rolled his eyes, brushing the fringe off of Harry’s forehead. Snape almost immediately straightened up, as though embarrassed.

“You needn’t play the martyr all the time, Potter,” he muttered, but his voice was not, Harry thought, as acerbic as it might have been.

The awkwardness was fixed a moment later by Dudley, who, having been forgotten momentarily by both of them, chose that moment to make his presence known. “He won’t be able to eat all that, professor.”

Snape merely raised a brow at the tray Dudley was pointing to, which was laden with food. “Well, he’ll eat what he can and you may have the rest, then.”

Dudley seemed content with that, but Harry paled. No. No way in hell he was going to allow Snape to force him to do that. For years he had grown up eating nothing but Dudley’s leftovers. He wasn’t going to do the same thing to Dudley. When Snape put the food in front of him, he shook his head and pushed it away. He wouldn’t have anything to do with it.

Snape frowned at him. “Eat up, Potter. You need the nourishment.”

Harry shook his head again, mutely.

“Don’t tell me you’re picky about food,” Snape snarled.

Harry spoke this time, though his voice was quiet. “No, sir. Not picky.”

He couldn’t afford to be. He had to eat whatever was available, whether or not it tasted good. It was a survival skill, and one Harry had learned very early on. This wasn’t about the food, though. It was the principal of the whole thing that had Harry’s stomach churning. He cast a pleading look at Dudley.

Dudley frowned a little, unable to interpret his cousin’s expression. He stepped forward, looking at the food. It was all fairly bland, he thought. Nothing that should hurt Harry’s stomach, nothing more solid than what he had given Harry these past couple of weeks. He doubted Harry would be able to eat everything on the tray, but he didn’t see why Harry was refusing it altogether with.

“Look, Harry, peanut butter and jelly,” he said, holding out a little triangle of a sandwich. “When we were younger, I’d always make you one on your birthday… It was the only thing I knew how to prepare, really. I always told you Mum made me bring it out, but that wasn’t really true. I just didn’t want you to know I was being nice.”

He smiled lightly at the memory. Harry looked a bit uncertain, but held a hand out and took the peanut butter and jelly into his hand. He frowned at it, his eyes darting nervously from Dudley to Snape.

“I’ll eat half if you eat half, Dud,” Harry said.

“Oh for heaven’s sakes, Potter!” Snape growled. “I haven’t poisoned it… And if you thought I had, you shouldn’t be asking your cousin to sample it with you. What would that accomplish? Some thanks!”

Harry looked stricken at the words, and dropped the sandwich back onto the tray, almost without noticing. “I didn’t think of you poisoning it!” His voice was quiet and shaky.

Snape groaned. Merlin’s beard! He hadn’t mean to put ideas in the boys head. Frowning, he reached forward and snagged an apple of the tray, biting into it, chewing, and swallowing so the boy could see. “See? Not poisoned. Now why on earth won’t you eat your food?”

Harry backed up a little bit, curling up in a defensive position, but his eyes were determined and his voice solid for the first time all morning. “I don’t think it’s right that Dudley eats my leftovers. They… Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia… They never gave me anything but leftovers, and if Dudley was really hungry, I didn’t get hardly anything. Sometimes… I’d blame him for it, even though it wasn’t really his fault. If he was hungry, he should be able to eat without worrying about me. They should have fed me my own food. That’s the same here. If I’m going to eat, I won’t be worried about Dudley all the time. If he’s not getting his own food, I won’t either.”

Snape groaned. Merlin save him from self righteous Gryffindors. The boy would be the death of him. As though he had intended the leftovers to be Dursley’s only food. It was a despicable thought, even if the boy could afford to lose a few pounds… Telling, too, if Harry could feel so adamantly about it. He couldn’t believe that the boy’s “guardians” had been starving him for that long.

“Your cousin is getting his own food,” Snape said. “I had thought he might like to go down there on his own. The comment on what you didn’t eat was merely so it would not go to waste; there’s not point in him getting the same food downstairs that you’re going to waste up here. Had I known of the reaction it would cause, I would not have suggested it.”

Harry still looked uncertain. This time Dudley chimed in. “He hasn’t kept any meals from me so far, Harry. He’s loads nicer to me than Dad was to you, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

At that, Harry once more took the peanut butter into his hand and bit into it. It was quite possibly the best thing he had eaten since Hogwarts, for he knew that it was freshly made and he wouldn’t get in trouble if he was caught eating it. He savored every bite, and managed to eat more in that meal than he had in weeks; half a sandwich, a cup of soup, and a little bit of salad, as well as a glass of milk. Wonderful.