“What on earth are you doing, Harry, practically hanging from the closet shelf?” Severus asked as he hauled the boy to his feet, checking him over for injuries immediately. “You knocked your head quite good, didn’t you?”

“Did I? It doesn’t hurt. Not too much anyw --- ow!”

“Hurts to touch though. Hmmm.”

“Well you’re not supposed to touch it! You never touch it or else it won’t --”

Snape paused briefly in his ministrations, startled, but tried not to show it. He covered instead by taking out his wand. “Or else it won’t what?”

“It won’t heal as fast.”

“A hard won lesson, I imagine.”

“Yessir.”

“Harry, are you feeling all right?”

“Huh? Yeah. I mean of course.”

“I fear you may have given yourself a slight concussion.”

Harry turned, straightening his glasses. “Well, what does it feel like when you have one?”

“You get dizzy, your vision is blurry, and you may feel like you’re going to be ill.”

“Oh. I’ve had some of them before then and this doesn’t feel nothing like that.”

Was the boy trying to shock him? Severus supposed it wasn’t out of the question. But no, Harry’s methods were generally even less subtle; his actions in class when he had wanted the man’s attention were proof of that.

Oh. Perhaps subtlety was beyond him, as well.

He gestured towards the bed. “Sit down Harry.”

Harry was suddenly nervous. He hated when the man’s voice dropped down deeper that way. He meant serious business when he did that, though he suspected Snape didn’t do it on purpose.

He didn’t think he meant to give him that look, either, but he still did. That long, odd look. He’d seen the man give a similar look to a pile of ingredients on his potions scales. Snape had looked at him that way many times now, and Harry still couldn’t figure what he meant by it.

It made him feel weird. Like Snape could see inside him. Heck, maybe it’d be easier that way. He wouldn’t have to talk then.

With nothing else to do, Harry sat as he was told. Snape, in his way, did not beat around the bush. “Your Uncle left you with concussions?”

“Yessir.”

“Do you wish to tell me more about it?”

“Nosir.” He hadn’t even noticed it when the man had healed him. How...sneaky.

“Well, should you wish to, I will listen.” In spite of himself, Harry began to clench his hands together, a nervous habit so obvious that even he noticed it.

With the apparent end of the conversation Snape stood to leave. Harry felt very suddenly cut adrift. Just as his guardian reached the bedroom doorway, just as he was about to cry out for him to ‘Wait!’, Snape turned back.

Snape turned back and reached out with one hand towards Harry. And as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to take Harry by the hand – Just Like That – he said “The Headmaster must be wondering where we have gotten to. Shall we rejoin him?”

“Ah, my boys!” Dumbledore cried when they returned to the sitting room. “I feared the attic gnomes must have found you!”

Anyway who thinks Albus Dumbledore doesn’t have a sick and twisted sense of humour deserves to spend more time with the man, Severus thought as Harry’s hand tightened around his own.

“Ignore him. There are no gnomes in the attic.”

“But there are gnomes?”

Not liking the rather greyish-green cast to the boy’s skin, he sent Harry a purposefully level look and replied, “Surely the first year who took on a troll wouldn’t be frightened of a mere gnome?”

“I never said I was scared!”

“No, of course not.”

“Are you all right, Harry? It sounded like quite the thump in there.”

“Yes Headmaster, I’m fine.” Harry replied, curling himself into the remaining arm chair. “I fell off a chair.”

“What were you doing up there in the first place, rooting around in the shelves of the cupboard?” Severus asked. He asked it in that way he had, Harry noted, the way many grownups had. Asking even though it sounded like he already knew the answer.

“I was putting my guardianship papers away.”

“You keep them in the cupboard?”

“Yes sir.”

And, as if he could sense Harry’s apprehension regarding the line of questioning, Snape dropped the matter.

Harry was very glad.

HSHSHSHSHSHSHSSHHSHSSHHSHSHSHSHS

It did not take the boy long to fall asleep, curled up in a chair once more, he noted. What was it that prevented Potter from falling asleep – and staying asleep! – in a bed like every other child?

Whatever the reason for the abominable habit, as he rose to get the Headmaster yet another cup of tea he took the opportunity to shake Harry awake and guide him, still bleary eyed, to the sofa where he immediately curled up against the arm rest.

“Stretch out, Harry.”

There was a rather incoherent whimper, and as Severus covered him with an afghan, Harry asked, “’m I in my room?”

“No, you are still in the sitting room. Dumbledore and I are here.”

“Don’t go nowhere while I’m sleepin’.”

“I would not.” Severus caught the look Albus gave him as he took the arm chair position that Harry had left vacant.

“It seems young Mr. Potter is quite forthcoming when not fully awake. Is he always so Severus?”

“I would not know, it is not a time that we usually use to converse, Albus.”

“Hmmm. Well. Just an observation.”

“Nothing is ever just an observation with you.”

“Do you find?”

He did, but he also knew that Dumbledore had a point. Rising, Severus approached the chesterfield where Harry lay, not yet totally asleep.

“Harry, why do you keep your guardianship papers in the cupboard?”

“Hmm? Beg your pardon?”

Severus couldn’t resist a chuckle at that, and leaned over to remove Harry’s glasses. And if he happened to brush his fringe off his face a bit with the edge of his hand, well, that was purely accidental.

“Your guardianship papers, why do you keep them on the shelf in your cupboard?”

“ ‘Cause that’s where I keep all my ‘portant stuff.”

“Did you learn that from your Aunt? Did she keep her important things in the cupboard?”

Harry closed his eyes tightly, as if against a sudden bright light. Snape was sure he wasn’t going to answer when suddenly the boy whispered, “No, Aunt Petunia only kept the bad, freaky things in the cupboard.”

Before he could think to respond, Albus interrupted. Almost as if he felt the need to remind them of his presence.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do, Severus, taking advantage of him like that.”

“Nice? No, it certainly wasn’t. It was smart, but it wasn’t nice. Besides, it was practically your idea.”

The old wizard smiled pleasantly at that, much to Snape’s annoyance. Looking back at Harry, the boy’s words replayed in him mind.

Aunt Petunia only kept the bad, freaky things in the cupboard.

The words, and his tone....it did not bode well.

It did not bode well at all.

HSHSHSHSHSSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

Albus had stayed long into the night, much to his chagrin. The man was impervious to hints, choosing instead to wilfully ignore them and ask for another cup of tea.

And who was he to deny the greatest wizard in a century a cup of tea, after all?

Of course, that’s not to say he didn’t try. If he didn’t think the man would detect it in an instant he would have put a sleeping potion in the tea. Just a drop or two, just enough to make him yawn and head off through the floo, but no. One did not slip anything into Albus Dumbledore’s tea that he did not already want there.

It was unfortunate, and of course he managed to stay just long enough to see Harry wake from a nightmare and reach out to Severus, quite literally, for comfort.

He was grateful that Albus had not stayed around long enough to see him transfigure a pillow from his bed into a cot.

After he had Harry settled, he moved quickly towards the boy’s room. With a flick of his wand he lowered the top shelf to just below eye level. Sure enough, there was the scrolled parchment with the Ministry seal.

But that was not all.

There was a pair of socks and underpants.

A package of tissue.

The sign language book.

A leather-bound photo album filled with pictures of Lily and Potter.

Several packages of crackers that looked like they were bought on the Hogwart’s Express.

And that bloody empty jar of healing balm.

Quietly he raised the shelf back up to its original position and tried very hard not to think of the contents.

He tried not to think about the balm jar as he walked back to his room.

He tried not to think about the crackers as he tucked the blankets more tightly around the sleeping child.

He tried not to think about the socks and underclothes as he, against his instincts, pressed his lips into the boy's hair.

He tried not to think of little boys hiding in wardrobes and closets and what it all might mean as he climbed into bed to go to sleep.

He was not successful.