Harry did his best to avoid thinking about his ho… The Dursleys. In fact, he spent most of his time at Hogwarts blessedly free of them and preferred to pretend that they didn't exist. When he was little, he'd use to imagine a different family. He didn't even imagine his parents, just… Another family. Perhaps even an orphange. His Pretend Family wouldn't be like his parents would've been (probably, Harry thought) but they'd be… Normal. Not Dursley Normal but average. They'd feed him three times a day. He'd have a room. Someone to give medicine when he was ill. The sorts of things most normal… average… families did.

Harry was so sure he'd find his Pretend Family at Hogwarts, or at least that he would be able to convince the headmaster to let him stay there even during holidays. The Dursleys didn't want him anyway, and he wouldn't be in the way or cause any trouble if he got to stay, really!

Harry'd imagine it, during rare spare moments his first year. How he'd sit in the comfy chairs in the Gryffindor common room and play wizard's chess with himself (maybe he'd even get good enough to beat Ron one day!) That he'd help Hagrid with the school gardens, or tend to Professor Sprout's greenhouses. He imagined that he would have to cook for himself, but if they gave him access to the kitchens, he'd manage that just fine, he really would.

After the debacle with Quirrell and the Philosopher's stone, Harry stopped imaginging his long, lonely, undisturbed holidays at Hogwarts. No matter what he did, he was never ever going to leave the Dursleys.

Things became very clear all at once. There was no need to imagine living somewhere else than with the Dursleys because living with them kept his friends safe. And Harry would do anyhing to keep his friends safe.

Once Harry saw the bigger picture, he could be… not happy…not content… but at peace with the fact that he had to live with the Dursleys. With Aunt Petunia's constant demands, Uncle Vernon's heavy hands and Dudley's Smeltings stick. With hand-me-down clothes several sizes too big, and a limited diet and endless chores.
His friends were safe and that was all that mattered. What was physical discomfort next to that?

---

"It seems there was more of Hufflepuff in you than anyone would've thought," came a voice from behind Harry.

He startled and pivoted, but of course, it was only Snape. He scoffed at his reaction. Honsetly, who else would it be?

"What?" he replied cleverly.

"I've been considering your… situation. How we came to be here. And I was reminded of an incident in my first years of teaching. A Hufflepuff third year was removed from her… unsuitable guardians. And she was angry with us, because she knew her guardians were not up to par, but staying with them allowed her to protect her younger sibling. The Headmaster told me then, that when such things occur in Hufflepuff, it is nearly always a similar story. 'Everyone believes the defining trait of Hufflepuffs to be loyalty,' I believe he said, 'but it's not. It's love and the ability to put a loved one's need above one's own.'"
Snape looked vaguely uncomfortable with the emotional declaration, even though it was only a quote.

"Does that sound familiar?"

Harry shrugged. He still wasn't used to this new Snape, who initiated contact and shared personal details of his life. Who didn't sneer or mock him at every opportunity. The only thing that made it bearable was the fact that Snape seemed almost as uncomfortable with the situation as he did.

Snape was still looking intently at Harry, obviously expecting a verbal answer.

"Eh… I… I never thought about it like that. I mean… It just didn't seem like such a bad thing. My friends would be… safe and it wasn't like the Dursleys were that bad…," he trailed off.

Even a few months with Snape had taught him the Professor did not appreciate Harry's view of his life with his aunt and uncle.

Snape's face had fallen into a familiar pinched expression, teeth clenched and nostrils flared. It had happened very frequently in the first weeks of Harry's removal from the Dursley household, but pewtered off after a while.

"You…eh, alright, Professor?"

Snape visibly composed himself, and said "No, Potter. Harry. I'm angry. "

"Oh. I'm so…"

"Don't apologize. Angry with them, for what they did," the Professor snapped before Harry could even get the word out. He shook his head and seemingly made a decision.

"It burns me up, what they did. And since you are not yet at the point where you feel anger, I'm feeling it for you. You deserve someone who is angry for your sake."

Harry stared. And stared some more. Finally, a shy smile, one that seemed oddly childish, broke out on his face.

"Thanks."