Previously in twenty-one days

"Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, you two please see that such a display is not repeated while I am gone with Mr. Potter. If something happens, then however do not hesitate to get me." He turned back towards Potter who still stood frozen to the spot.

"The office, Mr. Potter!" He commanded and again shoved the teenager forwards now seeing the blood that seeped through the boy's shirt for himself. "Now!"

Chapter six

Day three

Wednesday, fourth of September

Guiding Potter towards the stool in front of his desk, his hand on the boy's shoulder, he pushed the teenager down into the chair, while he at the same time wondered wherefrom Potter had the injuries on his back, the blood seeping through the boy's shirt now visibly not only over his shoulder blades but on his lower back too.

Weasley had shoved him towards the walls while gripping him at the front of his shirt close to his throat. Thus yes, the impact had happened to Potter's shoulder blades the most. Of course the boy's lower back surely had come in contact with the wall as well, but not with enough force to leave bleeding cuts. The walls down here in the dungeons were stony walls, yes, but they were not ragged and irregular enough to really cause bleeding injuries upon a simple impact. A bruise, yes, but not really open wounds.

"Remove your shirt, please, Mr. Potter." He said while turning towards a cupboard in one corner of his office to get a cleaning and a healing potion. He really should have known such a situation might happen at one point, should have known how panicky human beings could get, especially as they all were only children. But honestly, he had not thought that it might happen so soon.

Shaking his head and frowning when he turned back towards the boy he noticed that Potter had not removed his shirt but was fidgeting with the hem of it nervously, his gaze lowered to the floor beneath his feet.

"Your shirt, Mr. Potter." He said, forcing himself to stay calm and to not snap at the teenager in annoyance. Potter was uncomfortable enough as it was.

"But I'm fine, sir." The brat answered. "Really."

"Simply follow my order, Mr. Potter and remove your shirt." Snape said, still trying to keep his annoyance under control and out of his voice. "And I will not ask you a fourth time."

Suddenly Potter leaped to his feet and looked at him angrily, again his chin was shoved forwards in a defiant manner, just as he had done earlier in the morning.

"Why would you care anyway?" The brat asked, his voice louder as it had been before. "You are no better than them! You just hate me as well as they do!"

"Would you mind telling me what exactly you are babbling about, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked with his eyebrow raised, he was annoyed and tired and not in the mood to play games.

"That you don't care! Like everyone!" Potter exclained, breathing heavily and Snape slowly but surely got angry by himself.

"I do care, you silly child!" He hissed angrily at the teen. "Otherwise I would not ..."

"You lie!" Potter answered forcefully, interrupting him, his entire form trembling and Snape was sure that the boy was in some kind of shock. Well, of course he was, if he had been attacked by his best friend just moments ago. "Do you even know how many times I cared for myself and looked after my wounds alone because I knew that there was no one who cared and because I knew that the pain of being rejected would be worse than the physical pain?" Potter asked, his voice becoming angrier with each word he gave away. "No one ever cared and neither do you! But I don't care either, you know? I'm used to care for myself! I don't need someone who cares! I have learned to care for myself! So don't pretend you would care now!"

He was breathing heavily by the time he finished his little speech and he angrily wiped his arm across his eyes and glanced up at Snape. The man seemed to be made of stone, his eyes dark and cold and his harsh face set in dark lines, calm and motionless.

But then it happened so fast that Harry barely had any time to brace himself. Strong hands grabbed his upper arms in an iron grip and while Snape seemed to be slightly out of breath the older wizard snarled angrily, his face only inches from Harry's own. "Do inform me, Mr. Potter, what sort of people you grew up with that you think that nobody is going to take care of you while being in such a situation and injured."

It was in that one moment, while Snape again got deadly silent, watching him with narrowed eyes and his face white, that Harry realized that maybe he had said too much and suddenly he felt ill and suppressing a sob he knew he had to get away before he would sick up right here and now in front of Snape.

He broke free from the firm grip that actually hurt and ran towards the door he knew would lead to the bathroom.

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An angry curse sounded from the doorway and Harry flinched as he steadied himself against the toilet and coughed harshly, pain flaring in his stomach. He painfully had emptied what little he had gotten into it a few minutes ago.

The sound of running water reached his ears and then a cool cloth was laid against his neck and a hand that seemed to be just as cold was placed over his forehead, supporting his tired and hurting head. He flinched away from the unexpected touch but instantly the hand that held the cool cloth on the back of his neck applied pressure and held him in place.

Snape knelt beside Potter's small and trembling form, trying to comfort the Gryffindor while he still tried to figure out the teen's words and at the same time he knew that the boy had been right. He already had learned that Potter had been neglected by those muggles that were his relatives and thus he knew that each word the boy had said had been right. No one ever had cared.

"Feeling better?" He quietly asked, trying to keep his tiredness, his anger and his worry out of his voice. That was not what the boy right now needed. He watched Potter close and after a weak and tired nod from the dark haired boy he took the cloth away from the slender neck and gently pulled the small form towards him until the teenager leaned with his back against his chest.

Harry knew that it was Snape he was leaning against, but the coolness of the cloth and the man's hand felt so good against his much too warm face that right now he didn't care. He didn't even care when Snape gently wiped the cool cloth over his face.

Snape glanced at the child before him, not really knowing what to do with the obnoxious Gryffindor but knowing that he right now had to give his comfort to the boy. Potter's green eyes were wide and unfocussed and the child's breathing was just much too quick for his liking while the boy was keeping up an almost annoyingly tirade of apologizing words but the Potions Master had long ago started to not listen to them. They were not only not necessary but they were wrong in the first place.

"Hush child." He softly said. "There is no need to apologize for being ill and there surely is no need to apologize for the fact that no one ever had taken care over you." And right then the boy's words hit him full force, the meaning behind those words and hesitantly he placed his arm around the boy's thin shoulder, pulling the child closer.

No one had ever taken care of Potter, of this child. He had lost his parents in the war and he had been placed with relatives that not only had neglected him but that actually had starved him. And no one had ever cared. The boy had learned to care for himself because no one ever had cared. Himself included. He had allowed his hate towards a dead man, towards James Potter, towards this boy's father, to blind him. No one ever cared about the abused and neglected children, about the unwanted children, no one but him. But he had not cared for this neglected and unwanted child.

Harry could feel Snape pulling him closer until his head too came in contact with a firm chest and he could feel the cool fabric of Snape's shirt underneath his cheek while a hand pushed his own hand that had grasped the front of his shirt, pulling at the fabric in order to get the much needed air into his lungs away before coming to rest over his chest.

"Relax, Potter." A soft voice instructed him and for a moment he really wondered if this voice could belong to Snape. It was ways too comforting and gentle for belonging to the Potions Master. "Take calm breathes, child. In … and out … just focus upon my voice … breathe in … and out … you will get through this …"

Snape could feel the blood of Potter's injuries on his back seep through his own shirt, but right now he didn't care and he waited patiently until he felt that Potter actually relaxed within his arms before he got to his feet, gently pulling the boy up with him on his upper arms.

"Feeling better now, Mr. Potter?" He softly asked, patiently waiting for the boy's nod before he led the boy back to his office and again pushed him down into the chair he had been sitting in earlier.

For a moment he pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing that right now the boy didn't need the stern man he normally was. The boy right now needed the head of house he was for his Slytherins. And hadn't Potter said that down here in this situation they weren't Gryffindors and Slytherins? And hadn't he told Potter just last night that he wasn't only the head of Slytherin in this case? That he simply was a teacher to all of them?

He was the head of house to all of them right now and he should begin to act as such.

So kneeling in front of Potter he placed one hand on the boy's knee and the other underneath the boy's chin to pull up the head that was bent, the pale face still troubled.

"Would you please remove your shirt, Harry?" He silently asked. "There is no need to fear anything and surely not your teacher taking care of you. Just remove your shirt and allow me to take care of your injuries. It might not be easy to suddenly trust someone and surely not to trust someone who never had given you any reason to do so. And nevertheless I ask you to trust me now, Harry."

The boy's given name felt strange on his tongue, just like it had felt strange this morning during his conversation with the boy about his neglect at the hands of his relatives. But just like this morning he knew that it wasn't important to keep his distance to the Gryffindors. It wasn't important that he used the student's sure names. It was important that he treated them like he treated his Slytherins.

And it seemed to work. The boy still didn't look at him, but he lifted his hands and started to unbutton his shirt. Slowly, agonizingly slowly and his fingers trembling, but he did.

But the moment the boy had opened the shirt and began fidgeting with the hem of the fabric, the moment Snape could see the boy's chest through the gap in the now open shirt his eyes grew even darker as they normally were and he had to grit his teeth to keep his indifferent mask. Slowly so he wouldn't startle the child that clearly was already frightened enough he took the fabric out of Potter's hands and shoved the shirt off the boy's shoulders.

The damage that he revealed while he took the shirt and simply laid it over Potter's thighs so the boy had something he could occupy his hands with to get his mind off Snape and what he was doing, shook him to the very core. Even the horrors the Death Eaters had loved to inflict upon their victims had been nothing compared to what had been done to this child.

Bruises and barely healing cuts covered virtually every inch of the thin body and Snape could swear that he could count every single bone under the boy's skin and with a gentle hand on one of the thin shoulders he carefully got Potter to turn so he could have a look at the boy's back – and to hide his shock from the boy too.

The boy's back was even worse, he noticed and even if it was nearly impossible to shock the Potions Master that had seen a lot during his work as a spy, he actually was shocked, really shocked, and he actually had to close his eyes and to press his teeth together even harder to prevent himself from hissing in alarm and fury.

Bruises in every forms and colors, covered the boy's back and he immediately recognized them as marks from beatings, accompanied by abrasions, burns and cuts that were barely healing and partially infected. And here too he could count each backbone that stood out prominently and grotesquely, revealing the boy's true starved state.

Those damn muggles had not just neglected the boy. They had starved him and they had beaten him, seriously so and he had to suppress a groan. This morning he had feared that Potter might be the first one to die. Right now he knew it would be that way. If the situation didn't change soon, if they didn't find a way out of the dungeons soon, if he didn't get something more to eat into the boy than a cataneo root twice a day, then Potter wouldn't make it longer than a few days. He even wondered how the boy still was able to keep himself on his feet if his legs were as thin as were the arms that now were revealed to him as nothing more but thin sticks.

Getting to his feet and taking a painkiller from his desk he reached the potion towards the boy with a nearly shaking hand while he promised himself that he was going to ensure that the monsters responsible for this would pay. If they made it out of here alive.

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Snape didn't say anything while he reached him a potion and Harry wanted nothing else than to get back to hearing the older wizard's voice, the man's sarcastic comments, just to distract him from the fear he felt. Anything, even insults would be better than this silence. It wasn't that he enjoyed being insulted, but this silence from the Slytherin head of house was just annoying. It was annoying, not knowing what Snape thought. The man surely was angry at him, but he didn't dare to look up into the Potions Master's face. If he just would say something, then he would be able to hear how angry Snape was.

Watching Potter drinking the potion without even looking at it, his head still bent and his hands still trembling, Snape shook his head and then set about cleaning the boy's injuries and covering them with a mild healing slave. He of course could heal them with a stronger potion, but he only would push Potter over the edge then and into shock. The boy was in no state to deal with too many magical potions right now, his body would not be able to handle magic at all right now he feared. The boy was too thin and malnourished for that and he now knew why the boy always had been so small for his age, now as the fourth year that he was, he was barely as tall as the first years.

He nearly huffed while he remembered the first potions lesson he'd had the boy in.

He actually had walked over to the boy, had seated himself opposite him, not really to give him the answers to the questions he had known the boy wouldn't know. He never did such, seating himself opposite a student. At least not if it wasn't one of his snakes. No, he had done so because he had not believed that the small boy he'd had sitting in his class back then had been an eleven year old first year. And as he had known that Potter junior had been eleven years old, he had went over to the boy to have a closer look at him, to ensure that it really had been Harry Potter.

Moving over to the boy's front he started covering the bruises and cuts over the child's chest. Potter still didn't look at him and his fingers were tangled in the shirt he held in his lap.

"What exactly happened, Harry?" He gently asked, even if he already knew the answer to this question but he knew he had been silent for long enough. The boy's nervousness clearly showed it.

"Just the usual." Potter answered, seemingly struggling to get even a hoarse whisper out and he could tell that the boy still was in some pain. Well, he hadn't given him the normal pain relieving potion but a weaker one, not daring to give him the stronger version.

"I am sure that my usual is different from your usual, Harry." He quietly said, watching the boy close. It wasn't the first time that he had such a talk, but he just never had thought that he would have such a talk with Potter. The boy shrugged his shoulders.

"I do know that you think it is obvious what happened, Mr. Potter." Snape said, keeping his voice still calm and gentle. "And that my question that for is a stupid question, but I simply hoped that you would be able to tell me."

He took the boy's small wrists into his hand, sighing for a moment when he noticed just how skeletal the thin arms and wrists were, feeling nothing under his fingers than bones, sinews and skin. The infected welts that ran around the small wrists told him enough and again he had to keep himself from closing his eyes for a moment.

This was Lily's child, damn, and to see Lily's child being mistreated like that, being tortured like that, suffering like that …

"When did this abuse start, Harry?" He asked, already knowing the answer to this question too. The barely healed cuts, bruises and burns were covering most of the boy's skin, were covering older scars, scars that were years old. "And don't tell me you don't know, Harry. You are far too intelligent to not knowing how long this went on."

There was a long pause during which Potter didn't answer him, still didn't even look at him, but he refused to snap at the boy impatiently. He knew how hard it was for those children to admit everything. And for Potter to admit it to him, Snape, it must seem to be an impossible task.

"Since always." Came the small whisper finally and he nodded.

"And how often did they beat you?" He asked, again knowing the answer. It wasn't a once during a month occurrence. The boy's body simply was too damaged for such. And from what he had learned this morning, the fact that the boy had to – sneak out bread so he had something to eat at least twice a week, it was proof enough that the Dursleys were ready to do everything to get the boy killed.

"Three or four times a week. Normally." The teenager finally whispered, nearly sobbing now and Snape had to prevent himself from giving a dark growl away, had to force himself to keep his distance for now, knowing that Potter wouldn't want to be physically comforted just yet. Knowing that the boy wouldn't continue then.

"If you only would have said something, child!" Snape finally sighed, while covering the boy's wrist with the healing salve too. "To Albus, to Minerva, and yes, even to me. We would have been able to do something."

Well, from the way Potter looked aside he knew that the boy didn't believe him. Maybe he would believe him that he would have tried to help him, that he would have healed him as soon as he was back at Hogwarts, but he didn't believe him that he would have been able – or even tried – to get him out of this household.

"Are you injured anywhere else?" He finally asked

Harry still watched Snape's long fingers surrounding his wrist and he was surprised at how soft Snape's touch was, it was almost careful, even when he had covered them with the healing balm and it was strange. Really strange. He would have bet that Snape couldn't be so gentle and still not looking at the man he shook his head.

"Are you in pain anywhere else?" He heard Snape asking and for a moment he considered to shake his head again but then he nodded, knowing that it wouldn't do any good if he lied to the man right now. Snape would find out anyway and he only would get angry, what he better did not risk right now. Snape already was angry enough.

"Where?" The Potions Master asked, already fearing the worst.

"Everywhere." Potter's voice was nothing more than a frightened and pain filled small whisper, terrified as the first years he had answer him when they first came to his class. But Potter shouldn't be terrified of him, least of all now.

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He had hated Potter for years, had been so sure that he was arrogant and selfish, just as his father had been. And he had shown his feelings towards the boy quite clearly and with all passion he owned. And he was indeed a quite passionate man. He had loved with passion once and he hated with passion.

"What kind of pain is it?" He asked, his voice too barely above a whisper.

Never mind how much he had hated the boy, during the past days he had learned that the brat wasn't arrogant and that he wasn't selfish either. What he had been mistaking for arrogance had been the last remnants of dignity the boy had kept together somehow to show in form of a mask towards the people, and what he had been mistaking for being selfish had been nothing else than pure survival instinct. It had been nothing else than his Slytherins did.

"I don't know." Potter answered, still in a rough whisper. "Kind of cramps in my limbs. Sort of."

Nodding Snape sighed again in frustration. The boy's muscles cramped because of the lack of nourishment. The boy's metabolism had shut down and his body had started to take energy from the muscle mass in order to survive. So it indeed was as bad as he had feared.

"Those cramps are the result of lack of food." He softly said, running his thumb over the bony hand he still held in his own without even recognizing what he did. "I cannot do anything against that."

The boy had not bent the rules just to go and stroll through the castle as he so often had accused him of doing. He had done so to simply be of help, just as he now tried to simply be of help. He had left his dorm after curfew because he had tried to help Hagrid getting rid of a dragon. He had left his dorm after curfew because he had to try and safe the philosopher's stone, and he had left his dorm after curfew to get rid of the basilisk that had threatened the entire school, not to mention that the boy had left his dorm after curfew to find a person that had been a mass murderer, that had gotten away while hiding as a rat and blaming Black.

Sighing again he took the shirt that still lay over Potter's lap and placed it into the boy's hands.

"Get dressed, child." He gently said.

The brat had not tried to gain even more fame while acting like a hero. With the knowledge he now had, and he was sure that he right now judged the boy correctly, he guessed that Potter had even hated this fame. No, he only had tried to help.

The really sad part in this all was, that the boy always had tried to help others while he had not dared to address an adult with his own problems and ask for help for himself.

"You really do think that there is no one who cares, child. Am I right?"

The boy didn't answer and with another sigh and only a moment of hesitation he extended his hand and gently stroke the boy's hair away from his forehead, his dark eyes peering down at the child.

"You are wrong, if you really think so." He gently whispered.

This simple action made the boy actually hitch a breath and he had to struggle keeping his tears hidden from him. the words surely must have been balm on a wounded soul that was too deeply wounded to be healed.

"Feeling better a bit?" Snape asked and after seeing Potter's nod a slight smile graced the side of his mouth briefly as he simply nodded by himself. He knelt down again so he could look directly into those worried green eyes and lightly he placed his hands upon the much too thin shoulders.

"Listen, Mr. Potter, and listen close." He finally said, his voice serious. "I promise you, you will never go back to this household again, do you understand?"

Harry watched the Potions Master unsurely, fearfully, not ready to believe him yet. But there was no smirk on the harsh face of the older man and all that he could see in those dark eyes was seriousness, that his teacher spoke the truth.

"You cannot promise that." The boy finally whispered. "You won't be able to keep me out of there. The headmaster said I have to go back there each summer to strengthen the wards that keep my relatives and me safe."

Furrowing his brows in anger Snape had to keep himself from growling darkly. Albus had what? Albus actually had told Potter that those damn, bloody and blasted wards would keep his relatives safe? To get the boy on his damn need to help others? Even if those relatives he kept safe were beating, abusing, mistreating, neglecting and starving him in a way that now would cost the boy's life?

"Let me assure you, Mr. Potter." He said, leaning closer to the boy. "I can, and I will. You will not go back there, even if I have to take you in by myself! Is that understood, Mr. Potter?"

Startled, shocked, the boy nodded, the green eyes that watched him much too large and expressive and Snape nearly growled darkly.

"But … why …?" Potter finally managed to ask, his voice still a scared and rough whisper. The boy simply had been through too much since he had left Hogwarts over two month ago for his summer break.

"Because no child deserves to be in such pain, Mr. Potter." He answered. "And now go and try to sleep for at least a few hours as I am sure you will avoid sleep tonight. We will talk about this later, when you are not that damn weak and miserable." It was meant to sound harsh but even he could hear that he only sounded worried and he shook his head over his own display of emotions before he simply pulled the damn brat closer, knowing that that it was what the boy right now needed.

Potter stiffened when he pulled him close and ran his arm around the boy's shoulder, placed his other hand onto the back of the boy's head before he relaxed and he slightly shifted giving in to the comfort that was offered to him and leaning his head onto his shoulder.

It had felt easy, pulling Potter against him, easier than it shouldhave felt , and feeling the damn brat relaxing against him didn't make it any better, the thin and smaller body of the wizarding child easily fitting in between his longer limbs as one arm came around the boy's shoulders and the other hand rested on the back of the child's head until Potter rested his forehead against his chest. It didn't make it any better at all.

The boy again kept murmuring annoyingly afraid and fearful words in a terrifyingly young voice that sounded strangely like apologies again and Snape sighed once more. This indeed had not been what he had been asking for just a few days earlier. Not even a few hours earlier.

Yawning and closing his eyes, Harry wondered how this came about, Snape being so nice all of a sudden, but then – well, he had known that there was more to Snape than met the eye and while a part of him was filled with dread at really trusting the older wizard, the other part was strangely at ease while he could feel the rough but comfortingly cool fabric of the man's shirt. Snape had been friendly this morning too. And yesterday. So, he already had learned that the man had another side beside of the dark and cold one he always had shown them during the past three years.

He allowed himself to fall asleep within the professor's arms with a small sigh of ease, knowing that tomorrow Snape might be nasty towards him again, that tomorrow he might ridicule him for the weakness he right now displayed, but for the moment there only was peace, Snape had taken care of him. For the first time there had been someone that had taken care of him. And for the moment, as he had healed his body, it was all that mattered. Even if it was Snape.

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Potter seemed to shiver when he placed the small body onto the sofa in the small rest room that was attached to the laboratory and a small whimper escaped the boy's lips while lines of worry and fear appeared on the pale face that was too young for such lines. The boy was no adult. The boy was a child. A fourteen year old child and he should feel free of such worries and fears, of such pain and terrors.

"Hush, Potter." He sighed, trying to sound harsh while at the same time he knew he wouldn't manage. If he wouldn't know that none of them were able to use magic down here and right now since they were imprisoned, then he would say that this damn brat was waving a strange spell over him.

He was Severus Snape, for Merlin's sake.

Shivering again the boy flinched away from him, feeling his anger as it seemed and reaching out he placed his hand onto the boy's shoulder, again murmuring words of comfort to the child.

"No don't!" The boy pitifully whispered while he tried to struggle against his hand and the only thing Snape could think of right now was to sit there and to simply card his hand through the mop of black hair, placing a cool hand to the child's cheek and forehead to stop whatever nightmare may have been trying to raise itself in the child's mind, to settle him back down until the boy was back to sleep.

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Knowing that right now Potter would sleep for hopefully at least an hour Snape went back to his classroom. He was angry. Angry at himself. Angry at Dumbledore. Angry at Minerva, who always seemed to have known something, but never had done anything. And he was angry with Petunia Dursley he knew as Petunia Evans, Lily's sister.

Entering the classroom he cast a quick and severe glance over the students, noticing that everything was fine. Weasley silently was sitting at one of the desks, writing, just as he had been ordered to. Granger and … closing his eyes and gritting his teeth he shook his head. He really should start to think of them differently. So – Miss Granger and Draco were sitting together with the other Slytherins and Gryffindors near the fire, casting nearly shocked gazes at Weasley from time to time.

"Miss Granger, Draco, you gained yourself two points each for having an eye on the situation." Snape finally said, taking the chalk and adding two points to Draco's name and writing Miss Granger's name underneath Potter's and adding two points as well. "Mr. Weasley. Get one of the desks over here to the fireplace. There is no need to be colder than necessary during your detention."

Gazing over the students once again he took in pale faces that showed the first signs of hunger, of tiredness, of fear and of panic, and he knew that it only would get worse. And soon. And Potter was the one who already was worse.

"Theodore." He addressed his Slytherin.

His Slytherin!

He huffed.

Right now Potter was as much his student as was Theodore. Theodore might be his Slytherin, yes, but if that was so, then Potter simply was his Gryffindor. They all were the same right now.

"Yes, sir?" Theodore asked, looking at him curiously.

Potter!

He huffed once more.

Mr. Potter!

The boy had earned himself the respect to be called Mr. Potter instead of Potter. And to be honest, then he had to admit that Mr. Potter had even earned himself the respect to be called Harry by him just as he called his Slytherins by their given names. If the Gryffindors were as much his Gryffindors as the Slytherins were his Slytherins, then he should think a few things over.

"Mr. Potter - Harry, is sleeping in the rest room behind my office right now, Theodore." He said. "Would you please be so kind and sit with him? And to inform me as soon as he wakes?"

"Of course, sir." Theodore said, getting to his feet.

"Take your blanket with you, Theodore." He said. "There is no fire burning in the rest room."

Blushing for a moment over the fact that he had not thought of this by himself he nodded and took the blanket before he left the classroom to watch over Potter. Over Mr. Potter, damn!

Over Harry. Harry was Potter's son, yes, but Harry was Lily's child too. Harry was the child of his best friend, for Merlin's sake! And he had mistaken the boy deeply, by the way. How could he have not once wondered what had become of Lily's child throughout all those years? Had Lupin or Minerva or Albus – or any other one of those who once had counted Lily and James Potter as their friends ever checked up on their son?

Apparently no one had. Or if someone had, then this one had ignored the boy's abuse and neglect.

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Draco watched his godfather closely the moment he came back and he lifted his eyebrow before he cast a quick glance towards Granger and then Weasley, trying to judge their thoughts. Weasley still seemed to be angry while Granger seemed to be ashamed of Weasley's behavior earlier.

Uncle Severus himself looked more tired than when he had left with Potter. And Potter was nowhere to be seen. Narrowing his eyes at his godfather he took a second glance and recognized that he not only looked tired, but that he looked frustrated, defeated somehow, and worried. Really worried.

So, Potter's injuries had been rather severe, he thought. He knew his godfather, and he knew that the man always felt worried about his Slytherins being injured, coming back to school from their summer holidays injured. But Potter was a Gryffindor and Potter was none of the abused children in the Slytherin house.

And nevertheless uncle Severus seemed to be worried deeply. And uncle Severus had used Potter's given name, Harry.

Well, he had to admit the situation was not the most ideal.

Potter had been attacked by his own friend, by Weasley. They were down here in the dungeons, locked in the potions classroom since three days now with barely anything to eat. No one knew when they would be freed nor how long they would have something to eat. At least they would have another night they had to spend down here as it seemed.