The shame caused his face to heat and Harry hoped that no one would notice his flushed appearance even as he dug the almost empty tube of toothpaste out of the trash. Dean had thrown it away that morning, only because he was tired of tightly rolling the end to get the mint flavored contents to come oozing out the top. Harry reckoned there was enough toothpaste left inside for several more uses, but Dean's mum had sent him to school with three tubes of the stuff. It was easy to be wasteful when you were so well taken care of.

Harry was very aware of this, in an almost subconscious way, and he didn't harbor any bad feelings for Dean or any of his other roommates when they were unmindfully wasteful.

Also, he knew why his friend's did not shove rolls from the dinner table into their robe pocket's like he did...but he didn't spend too much time thinking about the reasons, even though it was becoming harder to ignore. The longer he spent at Hogwarts with children his own age, and heard about how they lived, the more his mind seemed to whisper that if they knew what his relatives were like, they would stare.

He smiled when Seamus told stories about his crazy cousins that he went on trips with, and listened in awe as Ron mentioned in passing that his Uncle Charlus was one of the few dragon tamers to ever ride a Ridgeback without being thrown off, and all the while, he fought the sickly feeling of jealousy that seemed to make his throat tighten. Harry didn't have what Ron had, or even Neville; no one sent him letters asking how he was getting on or parcels filled with sweets like Malfoy received almost weekly.

Harry never discussed his relatives if he could help it. His fellow Gryffindor's were very curious as to how he had grown up in the Muggle World, but Harry steered them away from stories that actually contained family members and talked about lifts, how he'd once stuck his finger in an electrical socket, and what a telly was.

A more observant person would have noticed that his laugh was a little forced at times during this conversation, and maybe...just maybe, if they had asked why, he would have forced the uncomfortable truth out. The truth was that he hated lifts because Dudley liked to shove him in them, mash all the buttons to all the floors and when Harry found the Dursley's sometime much later, Petunia would grab his ear, twist it harshly and threaten to leave him in his room next time they went away. The truth was that he'd never accidentally stuck his finger in an electrical socket, it had been forced...the truth was that he'd only really gotten glimpses of the telly as he hovered in the doorway, knowing that if he sat down in the room, he'd eventually be made to leave.

Luckily for him, his Gryffindor friends weren't all that observant. However, there was no way they would ignore it if Harry didn't brush his teeth or take showers, and that was when he had to get in touch with what he began to call his 'Slytherin' side; he called it this because he wasn't proud of his actions at all and hated feeling sneaky.

The Dursley's hadn't provided him with anything he would need at school, he'd managed to buy school supplies; quills, ink, parchment and his robes when in Diagon Alley and with his own money...but how was he supposed to ask Hagrid to take him somewhere he could buy soap and a hairbrush?

While the bathroom was still empty, Harry spread out some of the toothpaste on his finger and rubbed the minty stuff over his teeth as quickly as he could, eyes glancing at the door and just waiting for someone to walk in.

Rinsing his mouth out, Harry hid the toothpaste in his robe pocket so he could sneak it back into his dorm and then into his trunk without anyone noticing.

"Harry, hurry, we're going to miss breakfast!" Ron was hopping as he tried to pull his shoes on over his thick woolen socks his mother had made him.

"Sorry, was brushing my teeth," Harry muttered and bent over his trunk as Ron turned away to search for his other shoe. Swiftly, Harry shoved the toothpaste in his trunk and then moved to get his books from off his bedside table and shove his wand into his robe pocket.

The book on top of the pile was Potions, the spiky lettering on the cover was as dark as his mood when he saw it. Harry sighed and moved it to the bottom of the stack just so he wouldn't have to look at it. Even the very sight of the word made him feel like gritting his teeth, the class would have been okay, he guessed, if Professor Snape hadn't taken an instant dislike to him.

Harry was determined not to bring any attention to himself in that class, maybe that way Snape would leave him alone, and they could go on with their lives without too much head-butting.

Much later that same day, Harry remembered how he thought he could just keep his head low and not get in trouble--and tried to bite back a sarcastic snort. He didn't succeed.

"What was that, Potter? I said no talking while in detention."

From halfway inside the giant cauldron he was scrubbing, Harry rolled his eyes. Snape had set into him while he was failing to brew 'a potion so easy, even Longbottom couldn't mess it up too terribly.' and Harry's hand had shook with anger so that a few too many dandelion stems had fallen in--and who would have thought such a massive explosion could be caused by dandelion stems? They were only the least dangerous weed to ever grace anyone's garden ever.

Harry certainly hadn't seen it coming. When the smoke cleared some, he did, however, see Snape's very angry eyes glaring at him, and while his fellow classmates coughed and griped about what he'd done, Snape had growled, "Detention, Mr. Potter, seven o'clock in my office, for purposefully disobeying simple directions."

Then he'd sniffed and narrowed his eyes, as if he smelt something foul in front of him, and Harry had a bad feeling that the 'something' was him.

It was exactly the same face Aunt Petunia made when Harry said something she didn't like, which was nearly every other word that emerged from his mouth.

Clenching his teeth together so that his jaw hurt, Harry scrubbed at the sides of the cauldron with a vigor that was driven by anger alone. He'd taken to getting up early before his roommates even stirred just so he could shower and dry off with an extra shirt without anyone asking him why he didn't have a towel, it was probably around ten now and all he wanted to do was flop into bed and let his throbbing, jelly like arms, rest. At least his scar wasn't hurting like it had done before when Harry looked at Snape, which was interesting.

The black charcoal soap Snape had laid out for him to use was good for getting rid of the crusted on grime of the cauldrons, but even with hot water that turned his hands red, it was taking far too long.

He'd managed to clean eight cauldrons, but there were at least ten left and Harry felt several different emotions when he finished a cauldron just to look up at the stack he still had left to do.

What was the point in being a Wizard if he still had to do manual labor like this? It was worse than a summer out in the Dursley's backyard, pulling weeds as the sun burned him and the only water he was allowed to get was from the hot hose.

When the ninth cauldron was finished, Harry wiped at his face with the back of his arm to rid himself of the sweat and reached for another.

"That's enough," Snape said quietly.

Looking up hopefully across the lowly lit room, Harry met his teacher's dark eyes from where he sat behind his desk, one hand tapping the table, the other under his chin. Essays with red markings across them were stacked in front of him, and Harry wondered how many students would be on the receiving end of scathingly written comments, and if they were as mean as the things the man said to him.

"You don't want me to finish, sir?" Harry asked, not daring to put down the soap and seem too hopeful. Snape would crush that hope like a beetle under his shiny black boot if he saw it.

"Do you feel you've learnt your lesson?"

Harry blinked, and his fingernails made indention's where they were clenched around the soap. All the retorts that entered his head were rude and would only get him into more trouble.

Snape saw the anger in his eyes, and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Perhaps not," he said quietly. "Potter, go back to your Common Room, you can finish the rest of these tomorrow night, same time, and the night after that as well if it takes that long for you to learn how to respect your teachers and the rules they set."

Snape turned back to the essays, and Harry tried to control his breathing and not show how upset he was. Instead of saying anything, Harry looked down at the soap in his hand, it was a third of the size it had been when he'd started, and without too much thought on the matter, Harry pocketed it and moved to gather his bag.

He'd stolen the soap.

Severus looked back up at the door to his office as Potter exited quietly, as if he was purposefully being as quiet as possible to not invoke his teacher's wrath. Why then, he thought in a bemused way, had the damn boy stolen the soap?

He'd seen his grubby little hand drop it almost casually into his robe pocket...as if he'd done it a million times before. Frowning then, Severus leaned forward, steepled his fingers and looked over them at the pile of glittering cauldrons Potter had accomplished in a surprisingly short amount of time. Of course, he hadn't finished them all, but Severus hadn't meant for him to...he wanted the boy to be under his thumb for as long as possible.

Was this perhaps a petty game of payback? Did Potter pocket tiny items that belonged to anyone who he felt had wronged him? A darker idea came to mind and Severus' nostrils flared, did these petty acts of thievery end with tiny items, or was the boy also stealing expensive things from his classmates?

One of his Slytherin's was mentioning just yesterday that he couldn't find the magical watch his father had bought him...was Potter responsible? He deserved to be in detention if this was true, and Severus didn't feel any guilt about it. No, none at all.

He should really steal a hairbrush, Severus thought with a shake of his head as he rose and moved to put the clean cauldrons up and to think more on how he could discover if Potter's little slip was a habit or not.

The next day at breakfast, Severus realized that his previous scorn and slight humor at the thought of Potter nicking soap didn't seem nearly as lighthearted now. In the past thirty minutes, the boy had managed to hide a multitude of various food items that wouldn't stain his clothes in one pocket or another...and Severus was certain that the Gryffindor's that surrounded the boy were oblivious.

His toast lay cold before him right beside his no longer steaming cup of black coffee. They were abandoned shortly after he'd seen Potter's small hand shoving a scone deep into his cloak. The boy's eyes had been intent on Weasley who was waving his hands around as he loudly told a story that was no doubt embellished to the point of gaudiness, his hands were quick and his movements smooth.

It was as if he'd been doing this sort of thing for quite some time.

Uneasiness settled on Severus's shoulders like a heavy, wet blanket, and his mood darkened considerably. Why would Potter feel it necessary to hide food? Part of him felt like this was not a situation for him to get involved with--well, more than just a part of him, his whole body had stiffened at the idea of trying to ask Potter questions that didn't begin with, "Where is the assignment?" or "Is your arm weak, or are you purposefully doing a shoddy job at scrubbing that cauldron?"

The boy wasn't a member of his house. Severus slid his eyes off Potter and over to where Minerva was drinking her third cup of tea while listening in a seemingly interested way to Flitwick as he droned on about his students' progress with some charm.

Yes, he'd mention it to Minerva, the boy was her responsibility after all.

Though she was probably one of the least irritating of his co-workers, Severus was reminded once again of Minerva's her fierce stubbornness, especially when it came to one of her Gryffindor's.

She'd more or less laughed at his questions. "He's a growing boy, Severus. Mr. Potter is better off storing food taken from the Great Hall then sneaking down to the kitchens and bothering the house-elves, like some other students of yours were recently caught doing," she'd said and went back to straightening her desk and smirking. "Honestly, when you came in here I thought it was something serious."

Gritting his teeth, Severus strode off down the hall and tried to ignore the heat he felt rise up his throat and face. In the face of her doubt, he hadn't bothered to mention the soap.

Her reproachful eyes would not cause him to doubt the feeling inside him that something with Potter was off. The first year would be back in the dungeons that night, and perhaps Severus could find the right words to gain some answers from him.

"--bad grade, all because of Potter," he heard a first year Ravenclaw say in a disgusted way just before he would have rounded the corner and surprised them. At those words though, he stopped to listen and ignored the part of him that said he was being ridiculous now, spying on children.

"Why didn't you tell Sprout?" her friend asked.

"That would have gone real well, 'I'm sorry I dropped your ugly plant, I couldn't hold it and hold my nose so I wouldn't have to smell Potter at the same time."' There was a chorus of laughter and giggles and the girls continued on never noticing their Potion's professor as one was still bitterly complaining about the things Sprout had said to her.

The devious plotting he'd been sure Potter was up to suddenly seemed to vanish from his mind. In it's place, came the feeling that he'd been acting rather idiotic. Potter had bad hygiene, maybe he'd ran out of soap, and when Severus witnessed him taking some, he'd determined the boy was up to no good....

But, still, why had the boy taken that food from the Great Hall? And, he asked himself, why hadn't the boy just asked for the things he needed?

Hours later, staring at Potter's surprisingly ratty shoes as he scrubbed cauldrons without complaint, Severus wondered the same thing again.

The laces were frayed, and there was no telling if the shoes had originally been white or gray due to the amount of stains laden across them. Brand new robes covering over-sized shoes...it didn't make sense.

"Potter, finish with the cauldron and you can leave."

Blinking in surprise, because he had only been in detention for an hour, Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir," he said and quickly finished up and moved the heavy black cauldron to the pile of ones that were air drying. Keeping his eyes firmly on the papers in front of him, Severus listened to the sounds of Potter drying his hands and tidying up the space in which he had been all night. It was only after the Gryffindor had collected his book bag that Severus stopped him.

"Tell me, Potter," he said quietly and watched as his student stopped walking toward the door and turned to look at him blankly. "Do you get some sort of enjoyment from stealing from others, or is there an actual reason for it?"

Severus didn't take chances very often, it was dangerous to assume things, but in this case he felt like it was worth it.

Paling quicker than Severus thought healthy, Potter stared at him momentarily before trying to gain his composure.

"I...sir?" he questioned and swallowed in obvious nervousness.

Standing up, Severus strode around the desk, the boots loud on the stone floor as he came to stand before Potter. The torches flickered as he walked by as the air from his billowing robes reached them, and Potter looked a little more terrified with every step. Severus did not feel at all guilty for scaring him.

"Turn out your pockets," he said smoothly, eyes narrowed and arms crossed, waiting.

"My pockets?" Potter said faintly, his eyes were wide and his face still pale. He looked surprisingly small standing there, smaller than most of his other classmates...maybe he was bending his knees in an attempt to make himself disappear into the smooth stone floor. It wouldn't work.

Severus raised an eyebrow at him and leaned forward slightly, "Do I need to increase the volume of my voice to make you understand? Are you perhaps going deaf? It would be beneficial for you to tell me now if you are so we can go ahead and get you admitted into the Hospital Wing. The order was quite simple, turn out your pockets...now."

Severus appreciated how quiet the dungeon was when he could actually hear Potter swallow the second time he did it. Fortunately, the boy didn't make him repeat himself again, that would have been too much even for him. With shaking hands, Potter placed his school bag on the stone floor, and one by one, emptied his pockets.

His wand came out first, and then, at a much slower pace, he emptied out the other.

Severus abstained from blinking in surprise when it was not the soap that came first out of the boy's robe, but a spool of black thread with a needle through the side of it. It seemed an odd thing to find in the pocket of a young boy. Then emerged a container of dental floss, a marble, a knut, the broken end of a quill and at last, as if he hoped it would disappear the longer he took to take it out, Severus' black soap.

Perplexed at the contents of Potter's pocket, Severus quietly watched as Potter slowly extended his hands to him. Reaching out, Severus turned his own hand over and Potter let the small items drop into his teacher's palm without protest.

In fact, there was nothing rebellious in the way he acted at all and an unfamiliar discomfort came over Severus as he eyed the boy and his bowed head. It was too much like defeat, like something greater than tiny trinkets were being taken away from him.

"Were any of these originally yours?"

Potter shook his head slowly. "Just the wand, sir."

Severus picked up the dental floss and frowned, it was almost empty. The spool of thread was rather sparse too and it seemed to him that if Potter was guilty of thievery, at least he was the worst thief imaginable.

"Explain why you took the soap."

Potter took a breath and responded so quietly that Severus tilted his head in order to hear him clearly.

"I didn't have any, sir...and I didn't think you'd miss it. I'm sorry."

Ignoring the apology, because he wasn't mad, just confused, Severus continued.

"Did you also need dental floss?"

Potter nodded and Severus frowned and resisted the urge to rub his head. Instead of understanding, he was growing more confused, and at the same time a rather dark emotion he couldn't explain was coming over him.

"The thread and needle--"

"I needed to sew a button back on a shirt and mend a hole in a sock."

The boy was repairing his own clothes at eleven. He was fixing his clothes, stealing soap for bathing and floss for tending to his teeth. Most children avoided brushing and dedicating time to their teeth and here was Potter, stealing just so he could do it.

"I fail to understand why you don't have these items already in your possession," Severus said, and his voice had lost its former sharpness somewhere along his line of questioning.

Potter shifted uncomfortably and looked up at him briefly. Tired green eyes and a mouth set firm in stubbornness, it didn't match his defeated frame and Severus wondered why he hadn't noticed how old the boy's eyes looked before.

"I forgot to buy them when I was in Diagon Alley with Hagrid."

It was odd that he mentioned the Groundskeeper, but not his family. Many Muggleborn's were accompanied to Diagon Alley by a relative and a school representative, at least the first time. Few people would entrust their children to strangers without accompanying them as well. He didn't believe that Petunia Dursley had ever met the half-giant before, and so it confused him that she would willingly send her nephew off with the rather alarming man.

"You did not have these items at home to bring along?"

There was a lengthy pause, and Severus's hands fell to his side and tightened around the objects the boy seemed to consider precious.

"Mr. Potter, answer me...please." It was the word 'please' that caused the boy to look up at him again, his eyes searching his professor's face with caution.

"No, I don't have any of this stuff for my own at home."

Exasperated with his own lack of understanding, Severus raised an eyebrow and drawled a little sarcastically, "Am I to assume from the state of your hair that you truly don't own a hairbrush of your own either?"

Potter noticed his tone of voice and frowned at him, his whole stance going from defeated to on guard in seconds.

"Yes, sir." He said with gritted teeth, and his temper Severus had hoped to see didn't even please him because the words were said truthfully.

The damn boy honestly didn't own a hairbrush, and Severus was beginning to wonder what reality he'd entered.

"Why," he said with precision, "do you not own these things?"

Potter blinked, and his facial features seemed to hint that he thought his professor rather idiotic. "Because I didn't have any money until I realized I was a--"

He stopped suddenly and his mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

"A what, Potter? Tell me what you were going to say."

Shifting again, Potter glanced at the closed door that led back to the hallway in a longing way, and Severus realized he needed to give a little to receive the information he hoped for.

"Here."

Potter turned back sharply and stared in disbelief at the hand Severus held out to him. Slowly he reached out with both small hands and watched the items fall into them.

"I highly doubt anyone will miss them, now please continue with what you were saying."

Still staring, Potter drew his hands closer to his body, not putting anything back in his pockets, as if he still expected them to be taken away again.

"I didn't have any money of my own until I went to Gringotts with Hagrid."

Severus was on the verge of asking why his relatives hadn't provided him with money for shopping, but there was something bigger than even that hidden in what Potter had yet to say, and he was going to be the one to make him say it.

"No, Mister Potter, finish the sentence you were about to speak just a moment ago. I'm older than you but not by such an extent that I've already forgotten my own question. You said, 'Because I didn't have any money until I realized I was a-' now explain."

Taking a long slow breath, as if he was about to do something rather terrifying, Potter looked at him, eyes hard.

"Until I realized I was a wizard...when Hagrid showed up and told me."

It was as if the walls were listening now as well. Everything seemed to grow even quieter as Severus tried to process the words he'd just heard and not let his utter shock show. He was supposed to be directing the conversation and it had completely escaped him and ran in another direction.

"Sit," he ordered, pointing at a bench beside where Potter stood, still looking wary.

As the boy moved to sit down, Severus ran a hand over his face in a rare display of tiredness and turned to face his desk. He was on the edge of a great abyss, and if he gave in and continued his line of questioning and Potter continued to answer, he was sure to fall. His role in the war that was doomed to continue when the Dark Lord returned, would be in danger if he continued. Never could he allow his treatment of Potter to change, there were too many people watching, and hating the young boy, or at least seeming to was the wisest choice.

More than that, Potter had to believe he hated him as well. It was getting harder to find reasons to back up that hatred, the longer this conversation continued.

The safest thing to do would be to firecall the Headmaster and repeat what Potter had told him...and yet, Severus had to know more. His growing suspicion was laced with dread, and more than a small part of him wished he could send Potter back to his rooms and go about his life ignoring when he saw the boy taking extra food from the Gryffindor table.

But the part of him that was determined to keep this boy alive was fiercer and he felt shame for even imagining sending Potter away now. No, there was no turning back, he'd have to fall into that abyss and damn the consequences.

Going to his desk, Severus transfigured two glass cups from paperweights and poured water from his wand into them both. When he set the glass in front of Potter, the boy blinked and seemed uncertain if it was really for him until Severus looked at it pointedly and said, "I assure you, Mister Potter, that if I had any desire to poison you, I would have done so a lot earlier than now."

Hmm, perhaps not the best way to reassure the boy, but no one could say he was trying to make the child feel falsely secure.

"I fail to understand why the rather undeniable fact of your being a wizard wasn't brought to your attention quite a bit sooner than the end of last summer."

Potter drank from his cup slowly and Severus could see he was using it to gain more time and to word his answer carefully.

"It just...never came up, sir."

"Surely you had at least one bought of accidental magic, most magical children do before they turn eleven."

"Er, yes, but...I wasn't allowed to ask questions about it or talk about it at all." His words were short and his shoulders tense.

Knowing he was more out of his league here than he'd ever been, left Severus feeling rather frazzled and irritable.

"Potter," he said, voice tight with derision he could not suppress, "are you trying to tell me that if you had accidentally turned your lollipop into an ice cream cone, you would have shrugged your shoulders and went on your merry little way?"

Potter's fists landed on the desktop in front of him loudly, his eyes were bright with restrained emotion and Severus was surprised at the anger in his voice when he spoke.

"No! I'm saying that when I grew my hair back after an awful haircut, I got punished--and when I magically fixed the homework my cousin had torn to shreds, I got punished. It was fairly obvious in a rather short amount of time, that if I asked about the things they so obviously hated--I would get punished. Do you understand now? You can't talk about magic with the Dursley's...it's a bad word there."

His hands were shaking on top of the desk.

"It's a bad word," Potter said again, in a much softer tone. His laid one small hand on top of the other to still the shaking, and a moment later just hid them from sight in his lap.

This wasn't a discussion that could be held in the course of a single detention, that was becoming blatantly clear.

Not taking his eyes off of the young boy in front of him, Severus waved his wand and summoned a quill and a sheet of paper from his desk which he then laid in front of Potter before standing.

"Before you head back to Gryffindor tower, write down everything you are in need of...a hairbrush, for instance," there was no bite in his tone, and Potter blinked at him and then down at the thick parchment in front of him. "There are some house elves that would be more than happy to provide you with some basic necessities until we can arrange a trip to Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley. When you are finished you can go to bed."

He moved a few steps away, feeling like there was some kind of assurance he needed to tell the boy, but he just couldn't find the words.

"Professor?"

Severus turned immediately, "Yes, Mister Potter?"

The boy didn't shift in his seat, though he still looked wary, "You aren't going to punish me for stealing?"

It seemed an odd thing to be worried over, in light of all that had been said. But, perhaps punishments in Potter's head were truly something to be afraid of. The thought made him feel ill, and Severus shook his head solemnly.

"It seems to me, Mister Potter, that you've taken only things other people no longer wanted, and while I don't condone it, I also don't believe it's worthy of punishing. You haven't taken anything of value, have you?"

Potter shook his head, "Just things I found on the floor, like the marble and the knut...or things people had thrown away."

The mental image of Potter sifting through trash made his gut clench painfully, and the embarrassment on his young face caused Severus to turn his own face away. It wouldn't do for the boy to see his growing anger and think it was directed at him.

"Finish your list and leave it on the desk. Be back here at the same time tomorrow."

He willingly let the boy think he'd be coming back to finish his unfair detention and retreated to the room that adjoined his classroom. Once the door shut behind him, Severus bent at the waist and held his head in his own shaking hands. Even in here, with a thick wooden door between them he could hear the scratching sounds of his own quill in Potter's hands carefully writing down all the things that his relatives had failed to provide him with.

A truly horrible thought occurred to him, if Petunia had failed to give her nephew the most basic necessities, what else had she withheld?

For hours after writing down everything he needed, Harry had felt sick. It was as if a great rock sat in his gut, like something bad was about to happen because he had told someone that he was in need. He tried very hard to take care of himself, and now someone knew how awful he was at it.

Professor Snape hadn't shown himself trustworthy at all in the few months Harry had been at school. To tell him so much, more than even Ron and Hermione knew...oh, God. What if he used it against him in class?

A mental dialogue with Snape's cruel voice ran through Harry's head then, the words twisting his insides, "Mr. Potter, you're looking rather dirty today, should I assign you another detention so you can steal some more soap? You're obviously in great need of it."

The less pessimistic side of Harry reminded him that Snape hadn't sounded very cruel at all during the detention, in fact, near the end, it was like he was a different person. It was still hard to trust that he wouldn't betray Harry, but did he really have a choice?

Turning in bed, Harry buried his face in his pillow and groaned at the misery of his situation. Had he only been a little faster, Snape never would have seen him take anything, then his life could continue as normal. He'd be going back to the Dursley's in just a few months, the school year seemed to be flying by now that Christmas was over and Harry couldn't stand to think about how his relatives would act now that there was no denying his magical heritage.

Harry just hoped that Snape didn't try to ask him more question about the Dursley's...no one else had pressed him for answers like that, the neighbors back on Privet Drive believed he was a pathological liar and never questioned anything Petunia told them. That's what Harry was used to, and even if it wasn't exactly a fun existence, it was safe. Snape poking around in his life didn't feel safe at all, and with a sigh, Harry clutched his pillow and pulled the blankets closer to his face.

Maybe, just maybe, his Professor would leave it be.

Severus couldn't just leave it be, but he felt like more information was needed before he went to the Headmaster. Though he probably would be more willing to listen than Minerva had been, Severus knew how important it was that Potter remained with the Dursley's for his own 'protection' and that the Headmaster would not consider moving the boy with only evidence of neglect.

Only neglect...the words had a bitterness to them in his mind. Surely Albus knew the effect that could have on his little golden child, and yet, Severus was certain he wouldn't move him to a new home. That, if nothing else, proved how desperate he was to keep Potter alive...happiness didn't weigh much in this situation.

For now, he contented himself by preparing for the detention with Potter that night. He hadn't slept much that night, the list of things Potter considered necessary was short and yet he kept glancing at it from where it lay on his bedside table.

A towel. Honestly, what had Potter been using as a replacement for one? The list continued; hairbrush (as if it would help) toothbrush...and that was it. Frustration ran through his veins, was that all the boy needed? What about toothpaste, soap, dental floss--if his shoes were in such a bad condition than his socks must have been worse. Potter hadn't trusted him with everything he needed and Severus ran the scene through his head trying to remember if he'd given the boy any reason to doubt his sincerity. True, he hadn't been the epitome of kind, compassionate teacher in the past, but that could not be helped.

Perhaps it was a matter of pride, the boy didn't want to admit the level of help he needed. Frowning, Severus made up his mind what he would do when morning came, and rolled over with his back to the list, and fell asleep.

Perhaps Potter's bad habits were rubbing off on him, it was an awful thought but unavoidable as Severus looked around carefully before approaching the portrait of the Fat Lady.

His first class of the day wasn't until that afternoon, which gave him just enough time....

"Professor Snape," the Fat Lady said in surprise and barely concealed delight, smoothing her skirts as he stopped in front of her. "It's not often that you make your way up here; I've been working on a wonderful aria that is sure to move one to tears--"

Severus raised an eyebrow and she faltered. "Most everyone to tears, I'm willing to give you a glimpse," with that she took a deep breath, and the portraits nearby winced while others ducked out of their frames.

"Perhaps later, Madam. Boggart." She frowned at him, and then let out the air that had filled her chest with a sigh.

"You've missed a great opportunity, sir."

The frame swung open, the Fat Lady determinedly not looking at him as he swept inside. Gaudy swathes of red and gold surrounded him but Severus didn't even bother to sneer at the decorations as he made his way to Harry Potter's dorm room.

His eyes were drawn to the boy's bed automatically. It was the only one without pictures, belongings, or candy on the side table.

Casting a locking charm on the door, Severus levitated Potter's trunk to sit atop the bed and unlocked it just as swiftly. The words 'invasion of privacy' and even 'not his concern' ran through his head, and Severus snorted and lifted the lid of the trunk.

Since Lily's death, Severus had felt a heavy responsibility on his shoulders. He was determined to keep Potter alive and safe from whatever crossed his path. After he'd uncovered some of the neglect the boy had experienced, an even heavier guilt had made his shoulders sag, for what was the point of keeping the boy alive if the life he was living was one full of mistreatment?

It had never crossed his mind that Petunia might be treating the boy with anything other than a sickly amount of smothering, lavishing him in gifts to make up for the parents he had never known. Severus had been quite prepared to hate the boy for his expectant ways, and now he found himself wondering how he had managed to be that blind.

The list of things Potter found 'necessary' was sparse, curiously so, and that caused Severus to wonder just what the boy really needed compared to what he said. Pride wouldn't keep Potter warm if his socks had holes in them.

As the trunk's lid lifted with a creak, the truth was laid bare before his eyes.

Every item Potter owned was laid out in the trunk with great care. There was a rolled up tube of toothpaste, all the small things Severus had discovered in his pocket the night before, a brown paper bag that held scones and biscuits, some of them looking a little worse for wear, and then there were his clothes.

His socks were lined up, and though at one time they had been white, they were closer to gray now. Mouth held firmly in a frown, Severus picked up the shirt from the top of the pile and noticed the sewn patch on the shoulder and the fraying hem. All the clothes were that way, too big and obviously worn thin. The only item of clothing fit for the cold spring air was the jumper that Severus suspected came from Mrs. Weasley, he'd seen every single Weasley wearing a jumper much like this one at one time or another. It was as if the woman was marking her territory. At least Potter had someone being maternal towards him, Severus felt like the boy probably hadn't experienced much of that.

Sighing, Severus placed everything back the way he'd found it and left. It was time he'd had a talk with the Headmaster.

Harry bit his tongue and listened as his two best friends complained rather animatedly about the number of detentions Snape was giving him. Hermione called it 'unjust punishment' and Ron nodded vigorously, they'd been rather upset at the first attention, but now they were past irate.

"Want us to tell McGonagall, Harry? She would tell Snape to lay off-or at least take over the detentions."

"You didn't deserve them in the first place. Everyone knows you're pants at Potions." Harry gave Ron a sour look and he shrugged. "You are, mate."

"It was, however, a simple mistake. If a Slytherin had done it, they would have been yelled at, but not multiple nights of detention. You are backed up on homework, your hands are all dry and cracking-- we should go to Dumbledore!"

"No!" Harry said so quickly that his friends looked at him in surprise. "I mean, that would just make it worse later on, he'd use that in class...just leave it alone, I'll be done soon."

They'd agreed finally, still looking unsure and Harry had hurried out of the common room and made his way to the dungeons. The last thing he needed was for his best friends to learn what had been said in his detention last night, they might not be mad, but they would be concerned, and that could be far worse in Harry's opinion. He didn't want to be treated with concern, as if there was something wrong with him, especially not from Ron and Hermione.

A couple of Slytherin's saw him with his tightly clenched hands and exchanged looks before blocking his path, the taller one began talking with a sympathetic shake of his head.

"Poor Potter, he never saw it coming, did he Emmett?"

"What? Our fists?" Emmett answered, punching his hand while looking menacingly at Harry who grasped his wand and tried to think of a single spell that would help him in this situation.

"No," the other one said rolling his eyes, "Snape's wrath, once it picks a victim it doesn't stop until that person is--"

"Dead!" Emmett cut in again, clearly set on ending the conversation on the note of violence.

"Oh, for heaven's sake--shut up!"

Harry looked at the two of them in bemusement. "Is this leading to anything, or can I go to detention? Snape doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"Ah! The thing is, if we did make him wait, and you told him that it wasn't your fault, he wouldn't believe you. You see, Potter. You're the new whipping boy."

"Pardon?" Harry asked.

"Snape won't whip him though, right Neal?" Emmett said, sounding suddenly alarmed.

Neal ignored Emmett and continued, "You see, he's decided that he dislikes you, rather a lot from what we've heard, and from now on whenever someone's cauldron explodes in his class, it will most assuredly end up being your fault. You will take the blame for everything, and it doesn't matter who the original persecutor is...so, if you're going to get in trouble anyway, you might as well earn it."

"Huh?"

"You know, if you are going to get in trouble no matter what happens, it should be for something you've actually done. Don't you agree, Emmett?"

"Er, yes?" Neal gave him a glare and Harry watched as Emmett's eyes grew wider. "Yes!" he said loudly.

"Well, we'll leave you to it. Enjoy your detention, this is the third one this week, right?"

Harry watched them go, the torches on the walls flickered as they walked past, already talking about another subject.

Blinking, Harry turned sharply and determinedly finished the short walk to Professor Snape's office. It was true that his punishment had been a bit much, and he also agreed that Snape didn't hold any love for him...but yesterday he hadn't been cold, or cruel. It was a bit of a desperate leap, but part of Harry truly hoped that he would find the same person waiting for him today.

After knocking reluctantly, Harry waited on legs that wanted to shake and tried to find some small amount of Gryffindor courage. It was just a few moments after he'd knocked that the heavy door unlocked and opened slowly. Swallowing, Harry peered into the office and frowned when he didn't see his Professor.

"Sir?" He called out uncertainly.

"In here, Potter."

Harry bit his lip and walked inside the room, the door shut behind him with a thud that caused him to jump. It was such a final sound, as if he wouldn't be leaving again.

Taking a breath, Harry told himself to stop being so dramatic even as the words 'whipping boy' ran through his head. With heavy feet, he walked to the open doorway from where his professor's voice had come from.

It seemed odd that Harry had never noticed this particular doorway before, but that thought was banished rather quickly as his eyes widened.

The fireplace nearly took up half the wall, the logs were as big as Aunt Marge's viscous dog, and the flames even higher. Their heat chased away the chill of the dungeons, and subconsciously Harry relaxed as he stared at them transfixed.

"Potter?"

Jumping, Harry turned to stare at the man. Snape was standing at the opposite side of the room, a frown on his face and a teapot in his hand. The oddness of it all made Harry flounder for words, and Snape didn't mock him as he opened his mouth and then shut it just as quickly, instead the Potion's Professor turned and poured the tea in two cups.

"I went over your list last night and found it sadly lacking, sugar?"

"What, sir?"

Snape turned to raise an eyebrow at Harry, "Do you want sugar? Honestly, Potter, is there something wrong with you tonight? You seem a bit dazed."

Moving his weight from one foot to another, Harry decided to be honest. "I just don't know what to expect from you, sir. It makes me uncomfortable. You've never been so...."

"Accommodating?" Snape suggested in an amused tone that made Harry stare.

When Harry didn't reply and in fact looked more nervous at his teacher showing humor, Snape sighed and moved the tea tray over to a small table. He sat in a rather worn dark green chair, and gestured for Harry to sit on the sofa across from him.

Perching on the edge, Harry glanced at the door longingly and then turned his eyes to his teacher waiting.

"You can fix your tea how you like it, and then look over this list and make sure there is nothing else you need. I can't be sure when we can arrange a trip to Diagon Alley."

Ignoring the tea, Harry glanced at the list Professor Snape had turned toward him in one quick movement and slid across the table.

"Yes, sir."

There was a second in which Snape just looked at him, seeming to balance between curiosity and annoyance.

"Potter, I asked a house elf to go up to your dorm today, can you imagine why? No? I wanted to see the contents of your trunk after reading that pathetic list you gave me."

Harry gasped in surprise when the tea tray disappeared and his trunk reappeared in it's place with a bang that shook the table.

"That--you had no right!" Harry snapped and stood up to face his Professor. "It's my property!"

Opened his trunk hastily, Harry started flipping through the mediocre contents of his trunk making sure his most treasured items were still in there. Across from him, Snape stood up and watched him with arms folded over his chest.

A moment later, Harry stood surveying his Invisibility Cloak in his hands and then looked at the other things that had fallen out of his trunk in his haste. Faded clothes with holes, tears or badly sewn spots littered the area around him. Placing his invisibility cloak down, Harry went through and laid out his toothpaste, two pitiful blocks of soap, and the other various things he expected to find in his trunk. Then, he blinked and looked up at Snape.

"You didn't take anything."

Snape's hands dropped to his sides. "Why would I?"

That left Harry at a loss, he suddenly felt rather stupid. Dudley was the one that liked to take things from Harry that he though he liked, to try and make him even more miserable.

"There is something I need for you to understand, Potter. Sit down, I'll only say this once."

Harry sat, feeling odd as his things were still scattered around Snape's lounge.

"I am not your friend. For a multitude of reasons, I can not be seen acting sociable toward you. I'm sure that you want to know why that is, and maybe, one day, I'll be able to tell you. Today is not that day. You must not repeat the conversations we've had."

Eyes wide, Harry nodded form his spot on the couch.

Snape looked at him fiercely for a long moment and then sat across from him, elbows on knees and hand folded together.

"You have been neglected. It is the responsibility of your guardians to supply you with everything you should need to remain healthy and content. They have not done this."

A wind seemed to be rushing through his ears. Snape was talking about the Dursley's.

"Potter, do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

Harry swallowed, his throat was dry and he suddenly wished he had that teacup so he could wrap his hands around it and steady them. Snape wanted to make sure he understood that the Dursley's were treating him unfairly. He could deny it, it would be feign ignorance. Harry had become quite good at it, he knew that he wasn't treated in the way he should have been...but he didn't see how anyone, including Snape, could change that.

But, a small voice of hope seemed to whisper, he had noticed, and that was more than anyone else had done.

Clenching his slightly shaking hands into fists, Harry looked up, a brave new determination in his eyes.

"They don't like me very much, sir."

"Yes, that became blatantly clear when I visited Privet Drive this morning."

Swaying back from shock, Harry had to remind himself to breathe and gasped out, "You went to see the Dursley's?"

"Your aunt was the only one home."

"Oh," Harry said, "And...what did you say to her?"

Snape was watching him very carefully, as if he was expecting Harry to be upset.

"I told her about how it has come to the attention of the staff, that her nephew is in great need of common toiletry items along with other miscellaneous, and we had wondered how that had escaped her notice when she sent you off to school several months ago."

"She's going to be really mad at me," Harry whispered.

"No, Mr. Potter," Snape said, leaning forward. "The only person she has any right to be angry with is herself, for denying her own flesh and blood the smallest amount of compassion one human being should expect from another. We had a talk, your aunt and I, it wasn't a very long one, but I feel she understood what I was trying to say."

Snape stood up and moved Harry's trunk off the table and onto the floor. Then, he flicked his wand and without saying a word, several parcels and bags appeared on the table in front of Harry's wide-eyed face.

"These are for you, you can open them now or I can move them to your dorm room."

Unable to think of any lie that would explain to his roommates why he was suddenly receiving so many things at once, Harry stood and reached for the nearest parcel. Once his hands were laid upon the brown paper wrapping, he looked up, as if to make sure it wasn't a joke.

"We haven't all day, Potter."

Carefully unwrapping the box, Harry opened it to find several new shirts carefully folded inside.

A tag stuck out from the collar of the one on top and Harry's fingers touched the soft fabric almost reverently.

"Aunt Petunia bought these...for me?"

Snape didn't respond and Harry looked up. The man was looking at his hands where they touched the clothes, his fingernails needed a good scrubbing and with embarrassment Harry tucked them in his robe pockets.

"She did, after we went over her finances, she discovered that there was enough money to provide you with everything you could possibly want."

Harry felt like there was definitely more to the story than that, but looking at everything on the table, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the whole story. Pretending that his aunt actually cared about him was a lot nicer.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince Albus to give him the morning off. Severus had spun a tale about some potion ingredient recently discovered in great masses near Cork, and how it would only be accessible to the public for a few more hours before the PPRMP (People for the Protection of Rare Medicinal Plants) flooded the area.

Knowing that there were very few things his Potion's Professor enjoyed in his spare time, Albus had let him go with a smile and a wave. The classes would be overlooked by Bins, they could start the essay he had planned to assign them on Friday, and no one would be any wiser.

He'd focused a tracking spell on one Petunia Dursley early that morning based on an old memory he had of her, snooty tight-lipped face and all. It told him that she currently resided on Privet Drive in Surrey along with her husband and son. Severus wondered how big a mistake he was making, and then, he'd grabbed the portkey and went to have a very strongly-worded conversation about how people should be treated.

There was a slight risk involved, a number of curious people could ask him more about his sudden venture, but watching Potter now as he gazed about in awe at the material possessions most children took for granted, Severus felt like the risk had been worth it.

Once Petunia saw the error of her ways, which was to say she grudgingly thrust several large bills in Severus's hands, he had gone to the shops under the disguise of a fair-haired young man and bought the things Potter had listed and more.

It would probably be necessary to 'remind' Petunia of her nephews needs come next school year, but Severus pushed the annoyed thought away.

How had he managed to think the boy spoiled? Even now Potter seemed in awe of the new scarf he pulled out from one bag. It wasn't Gryffindor colors, Severus wouldn't have been able to live with himself; instead, it was a dark hunter green.

"You're not to go about neglecting to wear that, Potter. There are some other items to keep the cold wind at bay--your aunt would be unhappy if you didn't wear them."

Potter turned eyes on him that seemed to hold a lot more maturity than Severus was comfortable with.

"I'll be sure to wear them. Sir...I really appreciate what you've done--"

"It was your aunt's money--"

"Aunt Petunia wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't gone to see her."

Severus was torn between exasperation and sadness. "Potter, remember what I said. You must not repeat what goes on down here. I'll have everything sent up to your room while your classmates are gone to classes, the house elves can put your things away for you. Should you have any...issues with your relatives, I highly suggest you go to the Headmaster, or your Head of House. This is the end to your detentions. Do try not to blow up anymore cauldrons."

Potter seemed to realize he was being excused, but still he lingered even after the many packages were vanished.

The urge to say something harsh just to make the boy scamper was growing, but Severus forced it back down. This would probably be the last moment he could be civil with the boy, after tonight everything would have to go back to normal. He'd taken care of the aunt for now, surely she would treat Potter better now.

"One day, when you don't have to keep secrets that force you to act mean, I'll tell my friends that you aren't nasty at all."

Severus snorted slightly. He recognized that this was supposed to be Potter's way of expressing his gratitude, and though it needed work, he couldn't deny that it was honest.

"I look forward to that day, Mr. Potter," he said in slight amusement, imagining Minerva's face as Potter defended his honor in the Great Hall.

"Goodnight, Professor," Potter said with a small smile, the first true one Severus had seen in the dungeon, and left to go back to his common room.

It was only when he was alone that Severus allowed himself to feel pleased. The true appreciation Potter showed wasn't something he'd seen recently from anyone, and for things that most everyone else didn't even think about.

And honestly, if he was true with himself, Severus wouldn't have minded seeing that smile again.