With Harry's back to the wall, Severus first noticed the large, fading, hand-shaped bruise on Harry's face, then similar bruises on Harry's upper arms, and finally the one they'd predicted on his chest. Then he remembered Harry's wince and looked at the shoulder he'd grabbed, and noticed a dark, raised patch that extended out of view behind Harry. Severus swallowed, and spoke softly.

“Ha-Potter. I need you to turn around.” Harry looked at him soberly, and, for the first time since Snape had known him, dropped his eyes and obeyed. The potions master swallowed a gasp. The boy's back was covered with infected weals, some simply red, some horribly puffy and angry-looking, weeping and even borderline gangrenous. Why didn't I catch this when the boy first came in? Questioned the potions master, angry with himself. These should never have been allowed to get this bad, glamours or no glamours.

Harry could hardly believe he'd obeyed his manipulative bastard of a Head-of-House. He'd not even glared: it just didn't feel worth it. He told himself that he'd just been waiting for the potions master to ask nicely, but in reality he just felt exhausted. He knew that, whether he was cooperative or not, the marks would be discovered, and harbored the tiniest hope that once they were, the bustling matron could fix them. He also hoped that maybe now that the git's curiosity had been assuaged he'd leave Harry alone. No such luck. Harry turned back around and, after a lengthy silence, the potions master spoke.

“You want to explain how, exactly, you got those marks, Harry?” Harry glared. Are you really that dumb?

“No, actually.” Harry answered innocently. The professor frowned.

“Let me rephrase. Please tell me where you got those marks, Harry.” Huh. Maybe he really is that dumb. Either that or he wants me to “talk” about my experiences. Right. that's likely. To Harry's relief, his anger returned at the professor's prying.

“Well let's see. There's a funny coincidence there, actually. The hand-shaped one on my arm is from a hand, on my arm...the foot-shaped one on my chest is from a foot, on my chest...and the belt marks on my back are from a belt, on my back. You'll also notice a hand-shaped mark on my face. Use your deductive reasoning skills. Where do you think I got it?”

Severus closed his eyes at that. The boy was clearly still trying to make him angry, but, for once, he wasn't succeeding. How could Severus feel anything other than sympathy and horror at the boy's blunt appraisal of his injuries, even if he wanted to? I never did make a good Death Eater. The potions master opened his eyes again and sighed. Life would be so much easier, sometimes, if I did.

“Very well, Potter.” He said, but for once the name held no bitterness. “We'll talk about that later. For now, you're off the hook. You WILL, however, cooperate with Poppy and obey her orders TO THE LETTER or you will have no privacy and no freedom until those weals are COMPLETELY healed.”

Finally Snape managed to muster up some vitriol at the first-year's dangerous stubbornness. “If the infection goes any further it could KILL you. Stupid boy. Why didn't you have the sense to get them fixed in the first place?” His heart wasn't in the insults, though, and he quailed at the look Poppy sent him for it. Severus LIKED Poppy, though it'd be pulling teeth to get him to admit it out loud. Seeking to redeem himself, Severus continued.

“We WILL talk about this. I cannot have you hiding injuries from me, regardless of your motivation. For now, though, let Poppy treat you, then go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning – I have a meeting with the headmaster.”

Snape sounded determined and angry, and suddenly Harry had a horrible thought. “About what, sir?”

“About trusting the supposed savior of the wizarding world to a pair of muggles already known to hate magic without so much as checking to make sure they didn't kill the kid.”

“NO!” Harry shouted, standing up rapidly. Oh, God, he can't. He just can't.

“No, what, Potter? Are you saying he didn't entrust you to those abusive bastards? Surely even you realize that your treatment there was not normal.” Harry just fumed. It was if you are, asshole.

Harry gritted his teeth to keep from yelling his frustration, but he was ready to spit fire and it showed. “No, you're not going to talk to him about it. It's none of his business, just as it was none of yours. Get your bloody ugly beak out of my business.”

Nothing I haven't heard before, brat. Try again. “Yes, I am, because yes, it is. It is always the business of adults to look out for the children in their care. Now, you need your treatment and I have no time for this. I'm going.”

Severus turned and walked to the door of the infirmary, only to have it shut in his face and lock. Startled, he wheeled around to see Potter smirking at him. “No, you're not, because I won't let you.” Snape was seriously impressed – controlled wandless magic from an 11-year-old. I don't think even the Dark Lord... but hid it. He probed with his magic and found the door held shut by Harry's own.

“Need I remind you that you haven't blocked the flue? If you continue to block my way out I will simply bring the headmaster here. It might do him good to see for himself what I'm talking about.”

Harry paled, and Snape read his lips, picking up a word he otherwise would've missed, it had been so quiet. “No.”

“No? Then open the door. Understand that I could just blast through. I only refrain because doing so would cause you pain.”

Harry just stared at him, defiant as ever. This time, though, Severus could clearly see the desperation behind the anger. There wasn't anything he could do about it at the moment though – he had to go see the headmaster! - so he continued to force the issue. Sensing that the door was still locked, he walked briskly over to the flue and picked up some powder from a box on the mantelpiece. He was just about to throw it in when he heard a louder, desperate “no!” and the click of a lock. Good. I really didn't want to have this conversation in front of the boy. Severus nodded at the boy and walked towards the now-opened door. As he crossed the threshold, though, the boy called out to him.

“Please!” The pleading in the boy's voice wrenched Severus to a stop. He'd never heard the boy's voice sound like that, and, now that the boy's defiant attitude was explained, never wanted to. He'd never imagined that the boy could be so very vulnerable and frightened, never even saw him as a child, really. “Please, sir. Please don't tell. I'll do anything, sir. Truly, anything.” Severus sighed heavily. Damnit, Albus, I knew I wasn't up to this. What do I do? I CAN'T grant the child's request, but not doing so may break any semblance of trust the boy may be developing. Severus sighed. Maybe, now that Severus had figured out what was going on, and alienated the boy further in the process, Albus would assign Harry a new guardian; someone he could trust. The thought made the potions master feel quite relieved, then terribly guilty. Lily, please forgive me. I'm trying here.

“Harry I'm sorry. I know that this is not something you want known. But if Albus is kept in the dark about this then he will send you back to that house, and I cannot allow that. I am charged with protecting you, and I will fulfill that responsibility. I am sorry that the only way I can do so, in this case, is to investigate and tell things you would rather keep hidden, but that will not stop me from doing so.” With that, the man left.

But Harry hadn't heard his speech, had barely seen him leave. Responsibility and protection and Albus Dumbledore had little to do with Harry Potter. Harry had fought hard for the control he'd had over his life: he'd kept his secrets through the strain of the glamours, the pain of his wounds and the stress of avoiding his head-of-house. He'd left life at the Dursley's behind: his life had been his own, for the first time. He'd gone to his classes and done his homework and made friends and joined a sports team, like a normal child, for the first time. Then Snape had interfered, stripping his secrets from him and, now, telling them to others. He was a freak again. Next to that, the fact that the man was sorry meant nothing. World War II had begun.

Or, well, would, once the annoyingly sympathetic and attentive Madame Pomfrey got done with him. As soon as Snape had left she'd gone and got her salves and her bandages. Now she was back, and looking at him expectantly.

“Well, Harry.” She said matter-of-factly, “Let's get you cleaned up. Would you rather I deal with your bruises first or your back? For the moment all I need to do is put on some topical salve. Later Professor Snape will come with some potions for you to take, to help deal with the infections.”

Topical salve. She means she's going to touch me. Harry shivered. The last thing he wanted, right now, was for someone to touch his injuries. He already felt far too exposed, with his shirt off and his- glamours, Snape had called them – off. He was also angry at the world in general and didn't want people anywhere near him for the time being. But, again, Madame Pomfrey had been kind, and even if her sympathy grated on Harry's nerves and he really wanted to lash out at her as he did at Snape, he knew she didn't deserve it. She was just doing her job. Maybe if he just asked.

“Can – can I put it on myself, please?”

Madame Pomfrey paused. She had worked at Hogwarts for many years, and understood the motivation behind Harry's surprisingly polite question. Poor child. How must it feel to have every secret exposed in so little time? If only they weren't on your back I'd be able to say yes. Well, I'll just do my best to make you comfortable, I guess.

“For the ones that you can reach, yes. There's no reason for me to do it and not you. For the others – no. Your back is really messed up right now. It is imperative that we don't miss a spot. If there's someone you'd prefer to do it, I can fetch them, though.”

Damn, damn, damn. Why can't ANYTHING go right today? Harry didn't have anyone else to ask, because nobody else knew. The fact that the matron had given him the option barely helped. He really didn't want anyone touching him right now. He just shook his head.

“All right then. I have to be honest with you – I'll be gentle as I can but doing your back is going to hurt. Would you rather do that first, get it over with, or would you rather I hand you the salve for your bruises?”

Harry closed his eyes and shuddered again, fighting hard to remain polite through his anxiety. This is not her fault. She's trying to help me. She's not trying to scare me. NOT her fault. Save it for Snape. “Bruises, please.”

Poppy handed him a jar, and motioned for him to go ahead and get started. Then she held up a mirror so he could do his face, showing him on the mirror when he missed a spot, and explaining that the salve would help encourage his body to reabsorb the blood that was causing them. “They'll be gone by tomorrow morning, this way.” She said.

Finally the bruises were done and it came time to do Harry's back. Pomfrey moved to walk behind Harry, but he pivoted to keep her in sight and she sighed with exasperation.

“Harry I cannot do this when you keep turning.” Harry blushed, but did not turn around, and Poppy felt a glimmer of understanding. “Would it help if you could watch me while I do it? I can set up a mirror for you.” Harry blushed even further, but nodded slightly, relieved that they could compromise. He didn't like having her behind him at all, but being able to see would help. Poppy handed him a normal-looking mirror, explaining that it would show anything Harry liked within a short distance. Harry thought of his back, and Poppy, and sure enough the mirror captured everything Poppy was doing. Okay one hurdle dealt with. Thought the mediwitch, and opened the jar of salve. Harry stiffened visibly as her hand approached his back with it, arching his back as far as he could to get away without actually moving his whole body away. Poppy sighed and paused.

“Relax, please, Harry. I know this is hard for you but I have to get this salve on you and it will be a lot easier with your cooperation.”

Harry ducked his head briefly in shame, and spoke angrily under his breath. “I'm trying.” Poppy knew she hadn't been meant to hear that, and felt the sympathy and pity well within her once more. How, then, would you react if you weren't trying? You'd probably be off hiding somewhere. Merlin this poor child.

Harry remained wholly silent as Poppy touched the salve to the first weal on his back, fighting to keep still and hold his magic inside. He desperately wanted to protect himself, to pull up his shield and his glamours and fight with his fists and his magic against this thing that was hurting him. Instead he grimly fought to hide his fear and his pain behind a blank expression, as he always did. He tried to remember that this was not Vernon, that the mediwitch did not mean to hurt him, that this would help him and he had to stay still, but his instinct believed differently and being stuck between what his reason knew and what his baser instincts told him added to his strain. If this were Vernon, he could hold everything back because he knew he had to, but he would also try to escape. Remembering that this was the mediwitch, he could hold still, but the longer the pain went on the harder it was to keep from defending himself with magic. Something had to give.

Then Poppy fumbled with the salve, almost dropping it. She moved her hand quickly to catch it and before Harry even knew what was happening the mediwitch was being thrown across the room, his shields and glamours were up, and he was under the bed he'd been sitting on, his back to the wall. When he realized what was happening Harry “caught” the poor mediwitch at the last moment, giving her the gentlest landing he could manage. It was too late for everything else, though. Something was making enormous amounts of noise and he finally realized that it was some sort of alarm. Every bit of glass in the infirmary had broken: the windows, the potions bottles, the lamps, everything - and every bed had surrounded Harry's such that nobody could get to him through them. Harry could see the mediwitch from underneath them, though, and breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that she was already standing up. Miraculously, she hadn't even gotten hit by the breaking glass. Oh thank God.

The mediwitch bent over and breathed heavily for a bit, looking around her at the mess, and Harry took the time to calm himself down, now that the threat was – err- dealt with. The Poppy stood up straight to stare at Harry, looking a bit shaken but otherwise just exasperated.

“I believe, Mr. Potter, that I asked you to cooperate?” Asked the mediwitch, looking pointedly around at the destruction Harry had wrought. Harry was considerably heartened by the quiet humor in her tone.

He thought she'd be angry. Now that she made it clear that she wasn't, he attempted to match her calm.

“Umm...oops?” Tried Harry.

SSSSSSSSSSSSS

When Severus and Albus rushed in, they could only stand in wonder at the sight before them. The infirmary was almost entirely destroyed, too covered with broken glass for them to even enter safely. Harry was in the corner underneath a hospital bed, smiling hugely, every other bed and table in the infirmary clustered around him, and Poppy Pomfrey was rolling on a spot of floor completely free of glass, laughing as if she'd never stop.

Severus alternated his stare between the apparently insane mediwitch and Albus Dumbledore's own incredulous expression, until Albus noticed his scrutiny and smiled.

“I knew there was a reason I hired that woman.”

HPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHP

Exhausted from the eventful morning, Harry fell asleep under his table while the infirmary was getting cleaned up. The windows were fixed easily with magic, but the potions bottles and the potions in them had mixed into a thick, noxious gel studded with bits of razor sharp broken glass that had to be carefully disposed of. The amount of work to replace them would be astounding, but Severus remained silent after hearing the tale Poppy told of Harry trying, and failing, to cope. He remembered with clarity the almost-perfect circle of “safe” space around Poppy with wonder. How on earth did she survive the destruction? The mediwitch didn't have a mark on her, despite being showered with an entire room's worth of broken glass. Somehow, Harry had kept her safe. Next to that, the potions mattered little. He'd brew them again. Harry still had some detentions to make up, after all...

Poppy figured she'd just let the child sleep. He needed the rest, after all. The morning had to have been terrifying for him, and then to top it off with that unbelievable display of power- Poppy shuddered, clearly remembered flying through the air towards the stone wall. She hadn't told Albus and Severus about that part, only about the glass. The two of them could BOTH use a break. And so she helped the others clean up, watching the child out of the corner of her eye while the beds were moved as quietly as possible back to their proper places. The boy stirred while they were doing it, his face always towards whomever was closest, but didn't fully wake. Poppy finally stopped Severus and Albus when they went to move the five final beds.

“Leave them. He put the beds there for a reason and I don't want him to wake up feeling exposed. In fact I'd be very surprised if he allowed us to move them without waking.”

Severus sounded unconvinced. “Allowed us, Poppy?”

“Well, sure. He's been monitoring us this entire time, I think, and you'll notice his shield is still up. He's not going to let three adults wander about after all this destruction and with him so vulnerable, surely. We'll let him come out when he's ready. In the meantime, the beds stay.”

Snape suddenly realized something. “Poppy...you didn't manage to finish, did you?”

Poppy sighed resignedly, “no. I have about half still to go.”

“I'll help you. Clearly I should not have left you to do this alone.”

“No. You will leave. Your presence will, frankly, only frighten him worse. In fact, I'm afraid I must ask that both of you leave now, so that Harry and I can deal with this.”

“What? No! Are you crazy?”

“You want to bet your life that Harry can catch both of us, Severus?”

Severus stared at her, shocked. “What exactly do you mean by “catch,” Poppy?”

Albus smiled behind his hand, as Poppy attempted to get Severus to realize what the headmaster had already inferred. “Oh, use your blinking BRAIN, Severus! Why on earth would Harry panic with me already 9 meters away?!”

Severus blanched, looking back and forth between where Harry was and where Pomfrey had been laughing on the ground. “You don't mean to say...”

“DUH! YES, Severus. I was at Harry's bedside. Then I flew 9 meters before stopping net about four centimeters from the wall, and dropping slowly to the floor. This while the whole BLOODY ROOM was getting destroyed and the air was full of shards of broken glass. And yet here I stand, perfectly intact.” Finally her composure cracked. “I don't BLOODY want to take the BLOODY chance that he can do it again, okay? So you leave. NOW.”

“But how are you – what if!?”

“The boy trusts me. Sort of. He doesn't trust you, unfortunately. We'll be okay. What you can do for us, right now, is leave.”

Severus nodded stiffly and left. Albus paused to talk briefly with the mediwitch.

“You don't think he'll throw you again?”

“What I think is that he didn't mean to in the first place, so whether he will or not depends on the environment he wakes up in. I don't want him thinking he's in trouble.”

In the Infirmary Poppy was God. The headmaster took the hint and left.

PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

Poppy stood in front of the cluster of beds where Harry was hidden, then crouched down so she could see him eye to eye, or at least could once he woke up. To her surprise, he opened his eyes when she looked at him, and sat up. How long has he been awake? Ignoring the fact that Harry was currently hiding under a table, and had destroyed her infirmary only two hours before, Poppy called to him in a normal tone of voice.

“Harry? Come out here please, will you? I'm sorry but we've got to get the rest of your back treated.”

Harry just grimaced.

“Yeah, I know. You're already half-done, though.” She coaxed. Then she smiled teasingly. “I'll give you a lollipop!” Harry stuck out his tongue, finally smiling a bit, and came out on the opposite side from where Poppy was standing. He blushed as he stood up and looked around at the newly repaired windows.

“Umm...sorry I – err – destroyed your infirmary.” And threw you across the room. Poppy looked at him seriously.

“Do you think you can avoid it this time?” It was an honest question, not a request, and Harry considered it.

“Umm...it would help if you gave me some breaks. I just feel this – pressure- that builds when I'm hurt. I was trying not to move, so my magic came out instead.” Poppy nodded, pleasantly surprised that he'd shared as much as he had.

“We can do that. How's every five minutes? You should also tell me if you need a break before that.”

Harry just nodded and sat back on the bed. Poppy repaired the mirrors discreetly and set them up as before. “Just tell me when you need a break, all right?” Poppy reiterated. “Flying was – interesting – but I prefer a broomstick.”

Harry blushed again and nodded, and they began again.

By the time Poppy finished, the sky was darkening, and Harry felt stressed and exhausted once more. She had left soon after finishing her ministrations, realizing that Harry wanted his privacy, so Harry was finally alone. He wanted badly to sleep, and looked at the room around him in disgust. It was far too big to sleep in. Poppy had moved the beds back into a semblance of order, destroying the safe cubby hole Harry had slept in before. Someone could come at him from any direction, and there was just too much – well – space. How could somebody feel secure enough to sleep in a room like this? The beds here didn't have curtains, either. The emergency supply cabinet looked inviting, if Harry was honest with himself, but he really didn't want anyone to find him there. I just want to feel safe, again. Damn you, Snape! Why couldn't you leave well enough alone? I felt so strong, before. Now I'm all skittish.

Finally Harry got out of bed and headed for his dorm, feeling like he was sneaking out but unwilling to stay. I was mobile before, no reason they should complain now. He didn't have his map, though, and so hadn't even gotten halfway to the common room when he encountered his head-of-house in the hallway.

Can SOMETHING, PLEASE, go right today? ONE LITTLE BLOODY THING???

“So, Harry. Poppy released you?” Aaand I'm in trouble again. Not that I'm ever NOT in trouble. What does he care, anyway?

“None of your business.” Severus closed his eyes, wishing for once that he were a more patient man. Why does everything have to be an argument with this kid?

“It is my business because I am responsible for your health and well-being. From your response, I'm guessing that Poppy didn't give you permission to leave. You should be resting: your back needs time to heal.”

“But I'm going to rest. I'm tired! I'm going back to the dorm so I can sleep.”

“You can't sleep in the infirmary?”

“No.”

Helpful. No information, no explanation, just “no.” Always “no.”

“Well you cannot return to your dorm. Injuries like yours are the reason the infirmary is kept as clean as it is. A boy's dorm is not the place to nurse an infection.”

And an infirmary is not a place to sleep. Harry's glare was fierce, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to escape the potions master, so, frustrated, Harry let the man lead him back to the infirmary. Harry glared and muttered the entire way back, furious at his bullying control-freak bastard of a head-of-house, but stopped, flushing, in front of the woman waiting for them at the door, hands on hips. Severus noted this change of demeanor with interest.

“WELL?” Poppy demanded.

“Err...” Harry felt sheepish. Well she never SAID I couldn't leave...

“And DON'T tell me that you thought that leaving was okay because your own face is telling me differently as we speak.” Harry nibbled a bit at his lower lip. He didn't like Poppy's tone right now. It was something new to him: it didn't scare him, he didn't think she was going to hit him, he just didn't like it. It reminded him of when he was in second grade and his favorite teacher caught him fighting. Finally he realized what it was. He liked Poppy, even though she was an adult. He didn't want her to be mad at him. He wasn't sure quite how to fix it, though.

“Sorry?” What Harry didn't know was that Poppy was really starting to like him, too. He did, though, notice that his sincere response to her ire softened her reaction considerably.

“Hmmph. Come on, get in. Why'd you leave in the first place, hmm?”

Harry felt even more foolish as he admitted to his quest. “I just wanted to sleep in my dorm.” It sounded so stupid. Why can't I just sleep in the stupid infirmary? Everybody else does!

Poppy was still annoyed. “Sleep in your- honestly child, sleep in a boy's dorm with an infection like yours?”

Harry shrugged, wanting to look down but unwilling with Snape standing behind him.

“And why didn't you ask?”

Well I can't exactly tell her that I didn't ask because I knew she'd forbid it, can I? But I just want to SLEEP!

Unsure how to react, Harry fell back on what he was used to, and glared, effectively undoing the leeway that he had gained with Poppy from his quick apology.

“Don't you look at me that way, young man! You know perfectly well that you were in the wrong. If you didn't know, you should have asked. Now march back over to that bed and stay PUT!”

Harry obeyed with a haste that almost made Severus' jaw drop. How is it that I do or say anything to the boy and he either glares or cringes, while SHE talks to him like that and he promptly acts like a normal, chastened 11-year-old?

Suddenly Severus realized, to his great frustration and embarrassment, that he wanted Harry to relate to him the way he seemed to be starting to with Poppy; to be looked on with respect and deference, but not fear. Harry even joked with Poppy, something he'd have never thought possible from his own interactions with the boy. Where had THIS child come from? He'd seen angry teenager Harry, vulnerable, terrified child Harry, and massively powerful wizard Harry. Where did normal 11-year-old Harry come from? What had made him so comfortable with Poppy?

Then Severus felt stupid, remembering Poppy laughing on the floor in the midst of incredible destruction and comparing it to his own first encounter with the boy. Of course. I flipped out at the boy for nothing, exactly as an abuser might, while she laughed and instantly forgave him for throwing her across the room and destroying her infirmary. No wonder Albus was so angry with me. My first act as the boy's mentor was to ensure that he didn't trust me, might never trust me. Severus felt the blood rise to his cheeks with his shame. The boy hated him, and the day had not improved anything. What could? I'll just have to channel Poppy, and be patient...hmm. I don't 'do' patient. Severus shook his head, frustrated and cursing himself for a fool. Why had Albus chosen him for this? He was apparently singularly inept at it. He wasn't going to let himself off the hook this time, though. I'll just have to try harder; do better.