When Harry next woke up, he was in an unknown place. He groaned and sat up, grabbing for his glasses and flinching hard, when he realized he wasn't alone. Snape strode in and frowned at him.

'Good, you're awake.' He said in a voice Harry had never heard before 'There are things we need to discuss.'

Harry nodded and then rushed 'I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have left like that… I just…'

Snape raised a hand, then sat down on the bed. Harry found that quite odd but didn't comment.

'Your little stunt has been dealt with. It is forgiven and forgotten. There are other matters we need to talk about.' What else was there, really? 'As I healed your injuries I…'

Harry stared at him. It wasn't like Snape to be speechless, but as he reached out and grabbed Harry's wrist, he suddenly knew with certainty what his teacher was talking about. His breathing quickened, when Snape rolled up his pyjama sleeves to reveal his bandaged forearms.

'Did you know that you were developing an infection, you foolish child?'

Harry stared down at his arm. No one was supposed to know. He had hidden it so well. He had even healed most of the cuts with the salve from the apothecary. It was in control. Snape tipped his chin up.

'When I realized that you had been harming yourself, I could no longer restrain myself. I needed to know what had caused it. I watched your memory.'

Harry paled as he thought about the memory in Dumbledore's desk. He shoved those horrible moments away again and they slid back into the background.

'Why didn't you tell anyone, Harry?' Snape inquired, squeezing his wrist 'We would have never sent you back.'

'You sent me back even though you knew how they treated me for almost all my life.' Harry whispered, pulling his hand back and freeing his chin 'Why would this be any different? It's more of the same.'

Snape stared at him, trying to figure out what to say. He finally opted for facts 'When I found you, your arm was infected and you were running a fever. I was able to heal you completely, especially your arms, but you need to understand that this cannot go on. At some point you would lose control. Had I not found you, I shudder to think where this infection may have led you, especially as you were alone in a place like Knockturn Alley… After watching your pensieved memories the headmaster and I have decided to put you under constant supervision.' When Harry wanted to interrupt, Snape spoke over him 'I know you are probably not suicidal but you need to understand that this is not healthy behavior and find a different way to deal with your… problems.'

'What does that mean? I'm going back to the Dursleys or are you sending me to a hospital?'

'You will be staying with me.' Snape said 'This was my room, when I was a child.'

Harry's mouth fell open. The room seemed to have been stripped of all Snape's belongings, it looked bare, with only old furniture in it.

'I am not staying here!' Harry said indignantly

'Where are you going then?' Snape asked sharply 'You are not going back to that pub and most certainly not to the Dursleys.'

Harry scowled at him 'And I'm not staying here either! How do I know you won't be worse than them?'

'How dare you?' Snape hissed angrily, his eyes narrowing 'I have saved your sorry behind time and again! Have you ever come to any harm in my presence? Did I beat you or neglect you? Did I let anyone touch you, while you were in my care?'

'No, but that wasn't too hard at Hogwarts was it?' Harry spat back 'Instead you have taken every opportunity to make me feel unwanted and like a freak – just like the Dursleys!'

'Have I done that recently? When you were learning to occlude, did I mistreat you in any way?'

Harry thought back to that time and realized that, indeed, Snape had been decent to him. Even during potions class he had refrained from belittling him. But that was hardly the point, so Harry gave a derisive snort 'Oh yeah, a few weeks of neutrality mean that years of abuse are forgotten then?'

'Years!' Snape gasped

'Yeah, two years.' Harry said triumphantly and gave an ugly grin

Snape's temper flared – it was already scratched open by finding the little runt in a pub in one of the notoriously dangerous places in Wizarding Britian, learning that he was self-harming and why and now getting attitude for opening his home to him.

'You will stay here and make no mistake, if you misbehave I will personally drag you back to the Dursleys and dump you without looking back. You seem to be so keen on going there at any rate!'

Harry stared open mouthed at that threat. How could Snape say that to him? How could he endanger him like that? Harry would rather die than go back to the Dursleys. Julian. No, he wouldn't!

'Now, it will be better for you to rest. Dreamless Sleep is still in your system. If you close your eyes, you should drift to sleep easily.' With that Snape stood up and left the room. Harry stared at his retreating back and already began to formulate a plan.

Harry stared at the ceiling. He hated this, he hated all of it. He had been fine back in the pub, John and the landlady were relatively nice and he was earning himself good money. So what if he had started to cut himself? He had begun that back in Hogwarts, when the memory had surfaced and no one had even realized it.

It had all become too much to handle on his own – loosing his memories, regaining them only to realize what a miserable life he'd had and that Ginny had died because he hadn't been good enough, that Voldemort was back and to top it all of: Julian.

At first he had done nothing more than scratching his arms whenever the memory would assault him. Because even though it was dulled through being pensieved, it wasn't gone. At some point he had scratched his skin open and reveled at the feeling. The outside pain drove away the pain inside, the warm trickle of blood on his cold skin felt paralyzing and he had emulated that feeling by scratching again. The relief hadn't dulled and whenever it felt too much, he had found a loo and repeated the process. It worked wonders. It helped him stay rooted and function through the end of year. Leaning against the cool wall of the toilet stall, feeling the warm blood on his arm, it was like a dream, like escaping. But now he wouldn't be able to do that here, would he?

Harry felt angry and humiliated. Snape had had no right to pry into his business like that. What was it to him if he cut his whole arm open? Why did he care if Julian hurt him or the Dursleys slaved him? He was no better than any of them! Yes, he may not have beaten him or worked him like a house elf. Yeah, he was never abused while on Snape's watch – but what did all of that matter, when it was Snape himself, who would cut his already minimal ego to shreds every time he walked into his classroom. And a few weeks of refraining from being a total git didn't do much good either did they? Not when Snape had known what was waiting for Harry back at Privet Drive – at least partially – and had done nothing to help him. Who really was he, to be talking!

And furthermore: Why would Harry need to stay with this man? Yes, he had not beaten or hurt him in any way – recently – but that didn't mean Harry was going to give him a chance to! He was better off alone than with Snape, who was a complete mystery to him. And who would come safe him from an adult wizard? Dumbledore? Harry snorted at that and then sneered. Yeah, right, like he had with Dursleys? No, Harry would escape as long as Snape thought him too weak to and this time, he would not be found out.

As he had done for the Dursleys, Harry waited for the right time to make his escape. The same night found Harry at Snape's grate, taking floo powder and throwing it in, shouting 'The Burrow!'

In a whirlwind of flames he arrived at the sleeping house. Harry coughed and stumbled out. He should have come here from the beginning but he still felt so guilty about Ginny, he couldn't face the Weasleys. Still, this was a hundred times better than Snape! Even if the Weasleys couldn't take him, he could make his escape from here again. They wouldn't give him up to Snape, he just knew!

As Harry righted his glasses and put his bag down, he looked around in the familiar cozy living room. It would be great if he could stay here and maybe come back for the holidays as well. Ah, Christmas at the Burrow would be great. It may even fulfill his wish for a Christmas present: to get a family. A smile lit up his face until a cold voice rang through the room.

'Ah, you look so much like your father, Harry.'

Harry spun around and found himself faced by a fat, balding man, who had an uncanny resemblance to a rat. Peter Pettigrew had found the prize to pay for returning safely into the Dark Lord's circle.