"You are not afraid of what, Harry?"

Harry huffed in frustration. Why did he need to have this conversation now? Or at all? Why couldn't things be left alone as they always had been?

"Harry, what aren't you afraid of?"

Nothing. Everything. If Professor Snape found out how awful of a boy he was, he probably wouldn't be allowed to stay at Hogwarts. Except Harry had already caused an awful lot of problems and was still here, and not only was he still here, he had made friends.

Harry paused to work through this problem: if he was the same awful boy as he was before he found out about magic, and if he was still here at Hogwarts, then Hogwarts didn't care if he was an awful boy. And if Hogwarts didn't care if he was an awful boy, then the rules of his relatives' didn't apply here.

He hadn't changed, he was still himself. He was the same as when he was at his relatives' and his old school. He was still at Hogwarts, too. In fact, he was getting a lot of help at Hogwarts that he never got at his other school, no matter how nice his teacher was. Hogwarts must not need to fight for 'services for idiots and lazy boys' like his uncle said about his old school. So Hogwarts didn't care that he was an awful boy, which meant that his aunt and uncle were wrong. And if his aunt and uncle were wrong, that meant that he didn't have to be afraid of telling the truth. Plus, he thought that Professor Snape made quite the superhero, like a skinny Batman, and as long as he had Batman on his side, there was no reason for him to be afraid. But did he have Batman? He didn't know.

Harry glanced up at Professor Snape again. Up. Down. Up. Down. His mouth opened a few times, but no sounds came out. His words were stuck in his head. Again. He looked down at the toy in his hands and fiddled with it, contorting it into itself and back out again while he mentally practiced forcing the words out. He tried again. Nothing. He began to get frustrated and slammed the toy down on the ground. Losing the ability to speak didn't happen very often, but when it did, it was disconcerting and terrifying.

Harry rubbed his hands on his face, through his hair, along his neck. Once. Twice. Three times. He took a deep breathe, closed his eyes, and tried to speak again.

"Batman protects people. Batman protects people from bad guys."

Well, that wasn't exactly what he was trying to say, was it, but at least he could get words out. Probably Professor Snape had no idea what he was talking about, but at least he wouldn't make a big deal about it. He looked towards his teacher. Yep, just waiting patiently for Harry to say what he needed. A feeling washed through Harry, like a wave. Relief, that's what that feeling was. Harry thought he rather liked that feeling. No pressure, just take however long he needed. He wasn't used to that sort of treatment from he teachers and other adults, which further confused him. Did this mean that Professor Snape would be different?

Calm now, and more confident, Harry tried again. He could talk all about Batman, and Batman was much easier to explain.

"Batman is a comic book superhero who fights crime in the city of Gotham. He is part of the DC universe of comics, not Marvel. Batman first appeared in 1939 but he got his own comic in 1940 because he was so popular. There have been several iterations of Batman, and the first were really silly. I like the Batman: Shaman series, and Frank Miller's Batman and Alan Moore's The Killing Joke because they are more serious, like real life is serious. Oh, and Batman: Hush is good. I think more people should read Batman comics. If you want to read Batman comics, I can let you use my library card. No one knows I have it, though. Well, except for the library and Miss Tery, my favorite teacher. She got me the card so I didn't have to listen to people call me stupid, I could just read books instead and learn things. I sometimes wish that I could be Batman, even though he isn't real. Batman isn't real, but I wish he were."

He could talk about Batman all day, probably, if Professor Snape would let him. Next to chemistry and drawing, Batman was a favorite subject. It was also a subject that seemed to make him friends at first, before he inadvertently and accidentally talked about it too much, too intensely, and too frequently. Miss Tery never minded when he talked about Batman, and she explained that other kids just didn't like Batman as much, sort of like how he didn't like recess as much as other kids did.

"Why do you wish you were Batman, Harry?"

Surprised, Harry looked up. A grown up wizard knew about Batman? Not even Ron knew about Batman despite being a kid. Hermione at least knew who Batman was even though she didn't like comic books because they weren't 'real books.' Harry had called Hermione an idiot because of course they were real. He even had one in his hands right then, so if it wasn't real, what was it? Harry smiled at the memory of stumping Hermione, the smartest person in school.

"Because then the bad guys would be afraid of me and I would always win whenever they come after me, plus people would have to be nice to me because I would be Bruce Wayne. Even Uncle Vernon would probably be nice to me because I'd be a Successful Businessman, just like him. And then I wouldn't have to live in the cupboard under the stairs, and I could eat however much I wanted whenever I was hungry, and I could have all the presents on my birthdays. People couldn't get away with hitting me if I was Batman, and Batman is wicked smart."

He paused, realizing something for the first time.

"Besides, I already am more like Batman than most people. Do you know why?"

He saw Professor Snape swallow, then clench his jaw. Probably not a good question to ask then. Harry might not know what faces were saying all that often, but he could see they were saying something.

"No, Harry, I don't know why. Enlighten me."

Harry blinked. No recrimination or correction meant it was something else he had done or said to cause that reaction in his professor. Maybe Professor Snape really hated Batman and was humoring him by listening. Adults liked to do that, and then talk at him in an obnoxious, patronizing voice that hurt his ears, like sucking on helium but not quite. He didn't think Professor Snape was that sort of person, though. After all, he had listened to Harry go on about chemistry during their first meeting. Harry decided to just ask later. He needed to explain Batman to the professor like he'd been asked.

"Because my parents were murdered in front of me, too."

He made his fingers into a gun and pointed them at Professor Snape.

"Bang!" he said, pretending to pull a trigger. "Bang! Bang! Just like that."

"Batman's parents were shot and mine were killed by green light. Except you know what, Professor Snape?"

"What, Harry?"

"Except my relatives said they were in a car crash and that's a lie. Car crashes aren't green, car crashes are metal and fire."

Harry sat there, letting that run through his mind. He wasn't quite sure why he'd never made that connection before, but there it was. He would think more on that later, though. He didn't have time to focus on that now.

"If I were Batman, I could live all by myself and not have to be shouted at for not doing normal things or for not doing things the normal way. If I were Batman, I could afford special services on my own so Aunt Petunia didn't have to meet with the school and waste time on my laziness like she always says. I don't mean to be lazy, but it takes a lot of work to pretend to be normal like everyone wants, and sometimes I just can't do it all the time. Maybe if I were Batman they would love me, too, instead of just Dudley."

Harry trailed off as his words caught up to his ears. He realized everything he had just said. Everything he wasn't supposed to talk about had just come out of his mouth anyway. He was going to be called a liar now, a storyteller, a fibber, an attention-grabbing nasty little boy. He could try to pretend he hadn't said those things, but he would be caught out and then Professor Snape would let into him like Uncle Vernon sometimes did.

Harry laughed out loud. He thought it was funny how when he tried to lie, he was terrible at it, but when he told the truth, people thought he was lying to get attention. He waited for Professor Snape to start, but nothing happened, just silence and breathing.

"I, too, like Batman, although I have neither read a comic book nor seen a film in many years," said Professor Snape after what felt like several minutes.

"Do you know what your head of house often calls me?"

"Um...your first name?" Harry asked. "She calls you by your first name."

How was he supposed to know what his teachers called each other? He called them Professors and they called him Mister, usually. Sometimes they called him Harry, but he never called them anything but Professor. Harry found the ways people addressed each other fascinating because of the power dynamics and level of familiarity they revealed. If you were friends, you used first names. If you were close friends, you could use a nickname. If you tried to use a nickname but weren’t that close of a friend, that was presumptuous and rude. Names and titles acted like an invisible barrier between you and the people who you met.

"Indeed. However, she also calls me a Great Bat sometimes because I tend to swoop out of shadows and interrupt misbehaving students."

Harry stared at his Professor with wide eyes as he processed this new information. He pulled his shoes and socks off to feel the carpet under his feet and between his toes, and started to walk around the room, his fingers directing a symphony against his legs.

"Thank you for trusting me," said Professor Snape.

"Do I have to leave now that you know I am an awful boy that takes up valuable resources and tells fibs?"

He had to know, and the best way to know something was to ask, even if it meant interrupting a conversation. He settled into the beanbag chair again, waiting.

"You are not an awful boy, Harry."

Harry scrunched his face up in confusion. That statement went against everything he had been told his entire life, and he just didn't believe Professor Snape knew how awful he really was. Right now, everyone was being patient with him, but soon they would realize how weird he was and how hard he was to handle and how big of a drain on society he was, and then he would be out on the street, just like his relatives threatened.

"Yeah, but---" he began.

"No. You are not an awful boy, Harry'" Professor Snape repeated. "You are not taking up anything, and you and I both know that you aren't telling fibs."

Harry's breath caught in his throat at the same moment he felt the rocking chair start to move on its own. He loved magic. He was going to miss it terribly when he was sent back.

"You are not going anywhere, Harry, so calm down."

Harry was pretty sure at this point that his professor was a mind reader because he always knew almost exactly what going on in his head and didn't require words to understand it. One day, he would be good enough at magic to read minds, too. That way, maybe he wouldn't be so confused about faces or why he always seemed to say the wrong thing. If he could read minds, he wouldn't even have to talk, just think, so he wouldn't stumble over words and when words got stuck between his brain and mouth, it wouldn't even matter one bit.

"You are not going anywhere."

"Not going anywhere," Harry repeated. "Not going anywhere."

Harry felt that feeling again, relief. Professor Snape said he wasn't going anywhere, and Professor Snape had never lied to him, not even to get him to do something he didn't want to do, so if Professor Snape said he was staying, then Harry knew he was staying.

"That's right, you are not going anywhere. You don't need to worry about resources, valuable or otherwise. You do not take anything. You are not an awful boy."

"Not 'boy,' either. I am Harry. Harry Potter."

"Precisely."

"And you are Batman," said Harry.

Professor Snape raised his eyebrows.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You said you would keep me safe, and you said you are like a bat, and you are smart and scary just like Batman. I don't have to be Batman because you're Batman. You keep me safe from bad guys."

With that pronouncement, Harry got up and made a beeline for a small climbing gym in the corner. He hung himself upside down and stared at Professor Snape.

"Today, I read about bond line drawings in my chemistry book. Hermione doesn't know about bond lines because she doesn't know about chemistry. Hermione just knows about facts, and chemistry is more than just facts. Hermione also told me comic books weren't real books, so I told her she didn't know what she was talking about. Her face got very red and everyone laughed."

"I imagine she didn't take that very well."

"I know all about chemistry and bond line drawings. Miss Tery said I was very pra--pree--precoshush to be learning organic chemistry."

"Precocious. And yes, she was quite correct. Did you ever tell Miss Tery about why you want to be Batman, Harry?"

Harry did not want to talk about Batman anymore.

"Bond line drawings are beautiful. A bond line drawing shows the skeletal structure of a molecule. It is a shorthand representation of its bonding and some details of its molecular geometry. They are easy to draw. The benzene rings look like honeycombs. You can also call a bond line drawing a skeletal formula."

"Harry, this is very important. I need you to answer my questions," said Professor Snape.

"Single bonds are most common and are represented by a single, solid line between two atoms. Double bonds need two parallel lines, and triple bonds have three parallel lines," said Harry, carrying on his lecture.

"Harry," said Professor Snape. "I need you to focus for just a little while longer, and then you can tell me all about bond lines."

"I can tell you all about bond lines now."

"Did Miss Tery know that you weren't fed at home, Harry?"

Harry paused. When had he said that? He thought backwards through this whole conversation. He never said that.

"I never said that I didn't eat, Professor."

"So when you wished you were Batman so you could eat whenever you were hungry, what did you mean?"

"I got leftovers, Professor."

"Leftovers?"

Harry was astounded. Did wizards not have leftovers? He supposed not. After all, the tables just magicked themselves clear and meals were always new the next day.

"Yeah. Whatever was left over after everyone's plates were filled."

"And was there enough on your plate for you to eat until you were no longer hungry?"

No, never. Especially not when dinner was all different foods mixed together in a casserole. Harry never ate foods that touched each other. Ever. And there were almost always weird feeling foods on his plate that he refused to eat. Mostly, the only days he ate breakfast and dinner were mashed potato days and pasta days and cereal days.

"Only on mashed potato days and pasta days and cereal days because I couldn't eat the other days."

"Why couldn't you eat on the other days, Harry?"

"Because beggars can't be choosers, and I was too picky."

Harry loved Hogwarts because he always was able to eat at every meal because his food was exactly how he liked it. It had taken a few days of not eating before anyone realized what the problem was, and instead of sending him to bed hungry, Professor McGonagal had given him a snack while she quizzed him on what foods he liked. Ever since, he had never been hungry.

"And did Miss Tery know that you only ate on 'mashed potato, pasta, and cereal days,' Mr. Potter?"

Harry thought about that for a bit. She hadn't said anything that he could remember, but she always had an extra snack for him when he spent recess in the classroom reading his chemistry books. Maybe she just could tell he was hungry and didn't want to get him in trouble for being too picky to eat at home. That's what a friend would do, and Harry was certain she was his best friend.

"I don't know, maybe," he said. "We had snacks during recess a lot of times."

Harry swung himself down to the ground. His head was all wobbly from being upside down and there were starting to be multiple professors.

"What is the 'cupboard under the stairs'?"

Harry crept up right next to Professor Snape and leaned in close to his ear.

"The closet underneath the stairwell," he whispered.

Professor Snape whispered back, "was it a big closet, Harry?"

Harry shook his head.

"Was there a bed for you to sleep on?" Professor Snape asked, still whispering.

Harry nodded.

"Was it a proper bed with a mattress like you have now?"

Harry shook his head.

"Were you locked in your room very often, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"I saw your cupboard under the stairs when I visited your home last week."

Harry froze. Oh no.

"I needed some information from your school, and I stopped by your relatives' home along the way. It was quite the interesting visit," said Professor Snape, no longer whispering. "Your Aunt Petunia was surprised to see me there."

Harry reckoned his Aunt hated everything about Professor Snape, from how he was a wizard to how he wore all black and buttons, like the vampires she watched sometimes in her daytime dramas. Aunt Petunia loathed anything and anyone that wasn't full normal like her family, but she had a thing for vampires. Harry knew this because he heard her say so to the tv one day when she forgot he was home. It quickly became one of the things he was never to repeat again if he wanted a roof over his head. But if he wasn't going anywhere, then he had Hogwart's roof over his head, which meant he could say whatever he wanted.

"Aunt Petunia has a thing for vampires. She said so to the telly once when I was home suspended from primary school and she forgot I was there because I was so quiet."

Professor Snape made a choking sound, and Harry looked up in alarm.

"I will remember that bit of information for the next time I speak with your aunt, Harry. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I also met your Miss Tery, and I understand why you miss her. She is an excellent educator and mentor. We had a long conversation about you."

Harry stared at his hands and rocked back and forth. He was agitated now and wasn't sure why. He did miss his teacher and how she let him spend time in the safety of her classroom, and how she never made him feel bad about being weird, and how she just always seemed to know what he needed.

"The structural formula of a chemical compound is a graphic representation of the molecular structure, showing how the atoms are arranged. There are several different types of structural formulas. There are Lewis structures. Lewis structures are mostly used for small molecules."

"Harry, just a few more questions, and then I promise you that we can talk about chemistry."

Harry stopped speaking and just stared at the ground. This was the worst conversation.

"You said that no one would ever hit Batman, but did people hit you?"

Yes, of course they did.

"Yeah, but I am used to it. Plus, it was only once with a frying pan. Every other time was with hands."

Harry glanced up. There was a weird look on Professor Snape's face, a scary stay-out-of-my-way face.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, Professor. I am done."

"Alright. Thank you for answering my questions, Harry. Let's talk about chemical bonding then, shall we?"

"Yes!"