“He is not my problem and this is not my burden!”

Harry’s insides jolt.

It’s only Snape. He can’t hurt you. It’s only Snape. He can’t hurt you, his mind keeps saying, but this isn’t the first time he’s been called a burden and all it does is remind him of the summer; of the loneliness; of his Uncle. He begins to panic, wondering what they know. They must know something, they’re not idiots, they must be suspicious. He feels a lump form in his throat and swallows thickly to try and dislodge it.

When Snape and Dumbledore leave the room, Harry isn’t even curious as to why, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. Harry isn’t stupid. He knows that they must have seen his body...his hurt and damaged body...but Dumbledore hadn’t said anything about it. He skirted around the subject, but otherwise acted as though Harry looked normal and wasn’t a mass of purple bruises. This only served to anger Harry more!

Even when it’s right in front of him, the old man still can’t see it, he thinks, and for the first time in his life, he feels resentment towards the man who has acted like a grandfather to him for years. The resentment is short-lived, however, when his mind starts concocting reasons why Dumbledore might not have mentioned anything.

Maybe he is a coward, he thinks bitterly.

Maybe he doesn’t want to face this just as much as I don’t.

Maybe he was just trying to spare me the awkwardness of explaining.

Maybe he is giving me time to do it on my own.

Maybe it is for my own good...

But truth be told, whatever Dumbledore’s reasoning, it still hurts.

Harry sighs when Dumbledore doesn’t come back into the room. Maybe he just doesn’t care as much as I thought, he thinks, but quickly shakes that notion from his mind. Scooting up the bed, he moves to get comfortable, sitting up straight and leaning his sore back against his pillows. For a long time, his mind clouds and everything is blank. Time skips past, but Harry doesn’t notice. Nor does he notice the dark eyes scrutinising him from the doorway.

Lily.

No matter what happens, it always comes down to Lily.

Watching from the infirmary door, Snape is forced to think of Lily whenever Harry’s green eyes flash and flit around the room. All Snape knows is that he can’t let her sacrifice be in vain.

“Potter,” his voice drawls. Harry barely moves. Despite the situation, Snape can’t help but feel irritated.

“Potter,” he says a little louder. Finally, Harry’s eyes flicker towards him, quickly flitting back to the wall when, for a second, their eyes meet.

Snape walks to Harry’s bedside, but doesn’t sit down. The air was tense to begin with, but now, as neither party speaks and Harry can feel the cold glare of the potions master on him, the silent stillness in the room is almost unbearable.

“What do you want?” Harry snaps, eyes looking blankly ahead.

“What do you want, Sir,” Snape corrects, keeping his temper in check, “and it would serve you well if you didn't speak to me in that tone in future, lest you want multiple detentions when you’re finally permitted to leave this place.”

Silence descends again.

“Potter, you know more than most that my patience is not to be tested. You know why I am here. It’s the same reason Madame Pomfrey was here and the same reason Professor Dumbledore spent his morning talking to you. Explain.”

Snape doesn’t miss the fearful expression that washes over Harry’s face, yet still the boy doesn’t move.

“Explain what?” Harry’s voice trembles and he bites down hard on his lip to stop it.

Snape opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. The reality of the matter is, there’s no starting point. No place to begin. Jumping right into the source of the boy’s suffering is liable to do more harm than good, he thinks. Even with Dumbledore’s abundance of faith in him, Snape isn’t sure he’s up to the job of confronting these particular demons. On what planet would I be the right choice for this?! The thoughts snap through Snape’s mind like fireworks.

Just by being in the infirmary, he has thrown himself into the situation much further than he’d anticipated. For Lily, he thinks, but at this moment in time, her name sounds hollow in his mind. No, this is not for me to do. Just get him to talk, then call the Headmaster and he can take over. Severus Snape would never admit it to himself, but he’s scared. Quelling the feeling of rising guilt, he settles on a plan of action. Avoidance.

“Explain to me why you were out of the castle when you were carelessly hit by the Confundus.”  

That got Harry’s attention. Shaking his head, he looks up for a moment at the Potions Master and Snape falters slightly at the defeat in the boy’s eyes. 

“So this is my fault? Wait,” Harry half heartedly scoffs, “of course it is.”

“You haven’t answered my question, Potter.”

“And I’m not going to either.”

Snape leans in closer, making sure he is blocking Harry’s line of vision. A stray lock of hair falls across Snape’s eye. “Your defiance is not going to get you anywhere, Potter. The sooner you realise this, the better.”

“Go away. I didn’t want to talk to anyone this morning and I sure as hell don’t want to now.”

“And yet you are,” Snape drawls.

“Just get out!” Harry shouts, his voice cracking. Snape retaliates, voice equal in volume and intensity. 

“I, Mr Potter, have taken the time out of my day to be here, to speak to you, though I find your presence insufferable at the best of times, and I certainly do not appreciate my efforts being disparaged! Now, you listen to me! This is not the way I would ideally be spending my time, but I am here nonetheless. I suggest you start recognising the lengths other people go to for you before somebody has to drill it into that ungrateful head of yours!”

Snape straightens up, out of breath after his outburst. Harry didn’t so much as flinch, but Snape is unnerved at the sight of silent tears crawling down the boy’s cheeks.

“Get a hold of yourself, Potter!” Snape says, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

Harry violently wipes at his eyes, frustrated by his own weakness.

“Get a hold of yourself, Potter!”

Only now does Harry become aware of the tears. He wipes at them angrily, feeling ashamed like his sense of pride is escaping with every tear shed.

“Enough with this pathetic display of drama,” Snape sneers, “Believe me; we’ve all had enough of it for one day.”

Each word in Harry’s ear feels like a punch to the gut. All he can think is burden. Burden, burden, burden!

“Please, just go,” he chokes out, turning his body away from the professor.

This time, Snape doesn’t need to be asked again.