Just because he knew something had gone wrong in the boy’s life, it did not mean Severus had any idea how to get him to open up about it.

Severus, himself, knew just how deeply those wounds could be. He had some experience dealing with abuse, but the drunken rages that his father had under gone had been few and far between. His father had struck him – at most – two times in all the years that Severus lived in that home. Both times had been partly because of Severus’ stupidity: poking the ‘bear’ hadn’t been the smartest idea.

No, it had mainly been an outpouring of cruel words. Even tones hadn’t existed in Severus’ home. There had only been one volume: furious, loud, angry shouting.

It was possible Potter had only lived with that…

But Severus knew that didn’t explain the flinching. It didn’t explain the worried, widened expression that had filled the boy’s face when Severus had alluded to such punishment while he stayed in his quarters. It didn’t explain the defensive behavior; it didn’t explain the submissive stance; it didn’t explain the pain that was hidden beneath emerald green.

No, trying to ignore it or wishing otherwise could not escape the bitter truth: Potter had experienced domestic physical violence.

But even with that knowledge, just how could Severus go about it? It wasn’t like they were friends – they barely could keep a civil conversation without beginning it with a fight – and Severus still had his raging temper.

How many more mistakes could he commit before Potter stopped forgiving him? Surely it wouldn’t be long. While it was no excuse, old habits were so difficult to overcome – especially habits that had been ingrained for more than a decade.

The hatred he’d built, the bitterness that had festered, such things couldn’t disappeared instantly. Just as they hadn’t been nurtured overnight, they couldn’t be healed overnight – no matter how much control Severus attempted to maintain.

The fragile truce between them could be shattered in an instant; it was only a matter of when.

Thus, Severus found himself avoiding the boy. He had suggested – with a tone that left no argument – they eat in the Great Hall for meals. If Potter ate at the head of the Gryffindor table, then Severus could eat at the staff table; the distance wouldn’t prove a problem. Potter had slumped, looking even a little crestfallen, before he nodded in agreement.

Somehow, Severus felt he had dodged a bullet, as the Muggle saying went.

And that was how Severus’ attempts at avoiding any type of serious conversation with the boy worked – in fact, in worked excellently.

Oh, he knew he was running away from the problem, but he couldn’t help it. Severus feared – actually feared – having any more conversations that included Lily. While it hadn’t been all that hard, to be honest, to talk to Potter about her, it was more like the mere thought of it terrified Severus.

He also avoided Hagrid and his chickens: he didn’t need to hear another reminder of his fear.

The rumors which circulated through the students didn’t fail to be noticed, though. It had only been a matter of time before the entire student body came up with their own conclusions to what was currently going on.

Some rumors were wild, crazy ones, like Potter was actually his biological son – shudder the thought! – and that was why they were fighting so much. Potter was rejecting him as a father and that only created more issues. Any student found whispering this, Severus gave them a week of detention. No need to let that nonsense run its course.

But other rumors were spot on.

‘Malfoy has two months of detention with Filch and Hagrid.’

‘Snape and Potter are stuck together because of Malfoy, some kind of sticking spell, I hear.’

‘Potter and Snape had a shouting match in class.’

‘Potter survived? They must be related. Snape would’ve murdered him if they weren’t.’

Another fantastic reason – or excuse – to have meals in the Great Hall. At least that was what Severus told himself. Potter could eat with his friends and Severus could avoid awkward questions – from all parties. The excuses kept piling higher, so much so, Severus honestly didn’t know what he was going to do any more.

Oh, well. Better to keep the status quo, than do anything to shaken the truce.

***

He’s avoiding me, isn’t he? thought Harry.

They hadn’t spoken so much as two whole sentences since Monday, after that eventful sixth year class. The most Snape had said to Harry had been to suggest that he only take notes during the sixth and seventh year Potions classes, instead of participating in the class work.

Harry had readily agreed and took a ton of notes.

Thus, the next few days – meaning the rest of Monday and Tuesday – were completely different. While Harry wasn’t in his normal classes, he would attend all fourteen of Snape’s Potions classes, from first years to seventh years with two sets of each of the paired houses. Harry took the classes as if he were part of the year – except sixth and seventh year, obviously.

It’d been Tuesday, after lunchtime, that Snape had said they were eating in the Great Hall for dinner. After the man had skipped out on dinner the previous night, Harry had been looking forward to dinner together, in the hopes to talk with Snape about Lily. Therefore, he’d been disappointed by this news. But having a meal with his friends wouldn’t be too bad. Surely there would be more meals where it would just be him and Snape.

After all, eating in the Great Hall would be fine.

Harry hadn’t been counting on the stares.

He tried to ignore the open faces as they stopped eating, turned in their seat, and watched him walk down the long row of tables. Snape seemed to not even notice this. Harry couldn’t take it any more and dropped his head, staring down at his trainers as they stepped forward.

The whispers filled his ears.

Harry took a seat at the head of the Gryffindor, away from most of his housemates, and wordlessly grabbed a plate. He filled it with food, uncaring what went on it. He glanced at the billowing robe of Snape as the man strode around the staff table and sat down. Ever so briefly, the man caught him looking and their gazes connected.

Snape was the first to break it.

He must have done something wrong. Yet again, Harry couldn’t understand what he had done to make the man now avoid him. Oh, it was so obvious now. First, the man hated on him and now he couldn’t look at him in the eye. Harry was so confused.

He picked at his mashed potatoes, feeling more and more discouraged by the minute.

That was how Ron and Hermione found him.

“Heya, mate,” said Ron, clapping him on the back. He took a seat next to Harry, immediately grabbing the nearest bowl of food and scooping a healthy amount – really, an unhealthful amount – of sweet potatoes on his plate. Hermione shook her head at the action, but didn’t say anything about it.

“Fine,” said Harry.

“Oh, Harry, are you sure you’re all right?” asked Hermione, looking at him with concerned eyes. “You haven’t been fighting with Professor Snape again… have you?”

The way she lifted her voice at the end of her question made it completely apparent that she had heard some of the rumors.

“When aren’t they fighting?” said Ron, though a mouthful of roast beef. “I think it’d be more scary if they weren’t, you know.”

“Ron,” hissed Hermione. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. That’s disgusting.”

“Whah?”

Even Harry had to look away.

Hermione sighed long-sufferingly. She shook her head at him again, but turned her attention back on Harry.

“There’ve been some…” She trailed off, gazing at him with her worried brown eyes.

“Rumors?” supplied Harry. She nodded. He sighed, before shrugging. “I did have a row with Snape, though. In class.” Both his friends stared at him expectantly. With another sigh, Harry added, “It’s not a big deal, all right? It was just the same thing as usual, but this time I lost my temper.”

“But you should hear some of the things everyone is saying,” said Hermione, her expression turning to pity. “That you said things about being… well, you know.”

She gave him a sad look.

‘About being an orphan…’

Harry gritted his teeth. On any normal day, he would’ve told Hermione that there was no need to talk about it. Then, he would’ve marched out of the Great Hall to avoid any more talk along those lines. Of course, that wasn’t possible now. If he got up in a huff, walked down the row of tables, he would only be able to take a few steps before being slammed together with Snape.

While the man was definitely avoiding him, Harry didn’t want to purposely aggravate him. Being avoided was much better than being screamed at – sometimes. But it meant that Harry had no form of escape: he was trapped.

“Hermione, please don’t,” said Harry, not looking up at her.

“But Harry—”

“Just stop!” snapped Harry, his head now whipping up to glare at her. She flinched, drawing back. Hurt entered her features. Harry didn’t care. “I don’t need you to talk about it or analyze my feelings. I don’t want to talk about it. Please don’t force me, all right?”

Hermione glanced between Harry and Ron, who shrugged and nodded sternly in Harry’s direction. Then, Hermione bit her lip. “Sorry, Harry,” she whispered.

Harry only nodded his head and went back to his food, but his appetite was gone now. If Hermione had heard about what had happened yesterday that meant the entire school was talking about it. He didn’t want to eat anything. He glanced up at the staff table, wondering if Snape was down with his dinner. It didn’t look like it.

Harry stared at his unfinished plate. He couldn’t have any time to be alone. Either he was with Snape or he was with someone else. There was no chance to go anywhere by himself, nowhere to think by himself – and while his room back in Snape’s quarters was nice, he wouldn’t truly be alone there. He’d be too reminded by how much Snape was avoiding him now.

His friends tried to get him to talk about other things, but Harry remained unresponsive. Once desert had been eaten, with a few dishes still left on the table, it was obviously that Ron and Hermione were struggling to find reasons to stay at the table, Harry finally said, “Look, I appreciate what you guys are doing, but I kind of want to be alone. So… You don’t have to stick around.”

‘Beat it’ was unsaid, but apparent.

Both of his friends were hesitant. “Come on,” said Harry. “It’s not like I won’t see you tomorrow, all right? We’ve got double Potions. I’ll see you in class.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances again, before they slowly got up. He clapped Harry on the back.

“Well, see ya, mate.”

Harry gave a small wave. “See you.”

As Ron began to walk out of the Great Hall, Hermione hesitated again, before she leaned close to Harry and whispered, “Harry, you’re not mad at me… are you?”

Harry forced a smile. “No, of course, not. See you tomorrow.”

And while he hadn’t felt it, he was glad he had smiled at her. Finally, she looked mollified. She returned his smile, gave him a quick hug, before she followed after Ron. Though Harry was finally alone, he now regretted it. At least he could’ve ignored them, but he couldn’t ignore his own thoughts.

He glanced back at the staff table. Snape was nodding slowly as Flitwick chattered animatedly at him. Their dinner plates had long been cleared, along with their desert plates. Harry had never seen Snape talk with one of the other professors for such a long time. If he was purposely enduring talking with the excitable Flitwick, then the man must really not want to talk to Harry.

Hadn’t they been doing all right? Snape had opened up about Lily and Harry hadn’t been difficult about the whole thing, right? They had a good moment. So, why was Snape acting like this now? Was it really that bad? Was it awkward now? Harry just didn’t understand!

And it was obvious Snape didn’t plan on getting up any time soon. That meant Harry had no choice but to sit there at the Gryffindor table, listening to the whispers – loud whispers – and bear the stares that everyone was giving him. It was enough to make him go stir crazy! If Harry had to sit here for one more minute, he was going to get up and walk out of the Great Hall, regardless of the consequences!

Thirty seconds.

Ten seconds.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Hello, Harry Potter. I hope your evening has been enjoyable.”

Startled out of his determination, Harry glanced up. Luna stood behind him, smiling in her never ending airy way. She pointed to the seat next to him.

“May I sit down?”

Harry nodded, surprised by the girl’s sudden and almost uncanny appearance. Luna smiled brightly and did so. Then, she turned somewhat in her seat, so that she faced Harry better. There, her face lit up again with that soft, yet bright smile. Her silver grey eyes lighted with a hint of concern.

“How are you doing?”

Harry opened his mouth, surprised. It’s like she knows. How could she, though?

“I’m fine.”

“Ah, but the Blibbering Humdingers are saying otherwise.”

Them again?

“Uh… what are they saying?”

More like what are they…

Luna didn’t say anything, a faint light of knowing empathy in her eyes. She settled straight on the table bench, before lifting her left hand. She slipped it beneath Harry’s right hand and squeezed gently; her fingers were soft and cold. With her free hand, she picked up a knife and cut into some leftover treacle tart. Once a piece was cut, she grabbed it with her hand, the syrup getting over all her fingers. Harry’s eyebrows bolted upward, as the girl began to eat it one handed with no utensils.

With golden syrup over her face, she gave him a smile. She motioned with the half eaten treacle tart, some of falling apart to drop onto the table.

“Would you like a piece?”

Harry was overcome with a strong feeling. It was a mixture of incredulity, relief, and calming comfort; it didn’t land on a single one, but it was the blend of them all. Maybe it was the syrup on her face, or maybe it was the treacle tart on her mouth, but Harry couldn’t help but smile in response to this strange, yet soothing girl.

“Why not?” said Harry, grinning. He used his left hand, finding comfort in her gentle hand, and sliced a big piece for himself. Then, after a similar fashion, Harry took Luna’s example and grabbed his piece of treacle tart with his hand. It broke in half before he could reach his mouth.

Harry laughed and Luna laughed with him. He shoved the rest of the treacle tart in his mouth before he could lose it. And just from that the pressure which had built up in his chest was now gone. The pair of them enjoyed the silence as they finished up their tarts, not before, of course, getting syrup all over their fronts. All the while, Luna never removed her hand from hold his and Harry couldn’t find the heart to pull his hand away. After licking his sticky fingers, Harry spoke first.

“Snape’s avoiding me now.”

Luna licked her fingers, a pensive look on her face. She nodded.

“I know.”

“We fought in the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class.”

“I heard.”

“He said some… really hurtful things.”

This time Luna remained silent. She watched him, listening attentively. Harry found it so much easier to talk with her. Maybe it was because he felt like he didn’t have to tell her. Or maybe it was because she listened more than she commented. Or maybe… he knew she wouldn’t judge him.

“I said some things back… Things I wouldn’t normally say to anyone, let alone in front of a whole classroom.”

The more she listened, the more she gazed at him with those attentive, understanding eyes, the more Harry wanted to tell her.

“It always feels like Snape is picking on me. He says a lot of stuff, you know, and in class yesterday. It… stung. A lot. So I said that I hated him.”

“Oh, you don’t hate him,” said Luna, her voice softer than normal. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said it. Saying you hate someone usually is done in the effort to hurt that person. If you want to hurt someone in that way, it’s probably because you care about what that person thinks.”

Harry bit his lip; he nodded slowly, unable to refute her statements.

“He… apologized.”

“Oh.” Luna beamed at him. “That’s nice.”

“Yeah, but even after that he’s avoiding me now,” said Harry, huffing in annoyance. “It’s not like I bite, you know. Why can’t he stand being around me?

“I think he’s very lonely,” said Luna, taking a look at the staff table. “He has no family. So, I think it must be very strange to have someone in his home all the time. It will take some time for him to get used to it, but it will do him good. You’re good for him.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “I doubt that.”

“I don’t. You shouldn’t doubt yourself.”

“But I don’t know how to act around him,” whispered Harry, revealing a deeper part of his heart. It seemed so easy to do with her. “I don’t know… What I am supposed to do? I’m… I’m an orphan. I’ve never known either of my parents and my relatives aren’t what I’d call family.” Harry took a deep breath. “Sometimes it’s hard.”

Luna nodded slowly. “Yes, I understand. It’s hard losing a parent.”

“You, too?” asked Harry, looking at her. Luna continued to nod; her lips pursed slightly.

“Yes. My mother. She was an extraordinary woman and just as amazing as a witch. She liked to experiment and create new spells, potions, and other things. But one day, something went wrong. I was nine.”

“I’m sorry,” whispered Harry. The soft hand holding his own squeezed gently.

“It’s all right. It was very horrible, though. I still feel sad about it. But it’s not like I won’t see her again.”

Harry sucked in his breath, startled at these words. “What?” he whispered, disbelief in his tone. Did he mishear her? Hadn’t she meant that her mother had died? But Luna looked at him, her eyes widening in gentle surprise.

“Did you think otherwise?” asked Luna, genuine curiosity in her voice. “Just because you never met your parents doesn’t mean you never will. What a horrible world this would be if we couldn’t be reunited with our loved ones. I’d feel much worse if I knew I could never see her again.”

Harry blinked.

“I’m sure things will look up for you, Harry,” said Luna, her gentle smiling lighting her features. Her mouth was still covered in syrup. She sighed contently. “Well, I must be going now. I enjoyed our talk.”

And as Luna turned and withdrew from the table, giving his hand a final squeeze, Harry could only nod, his mind dwelling heavily on what she had said. He watched her blithely skip down the row of tables. He felt a small smile lift his mouth. There was something about her… What, Harry really didn’t know. But there was one thing he knew.

He felt much better after talking with her.