Severus stirred in aconite in his healing potion, his mind wandering in thoughts. He had several essays to finish grading, a class on veritaserum to teach first thing the next morning, and more potions to brew to stock not only his lab but the hospital wing as well. Why did he keep this job? Ah, yes, he needed it. He owed it to Albus and to the war. The Dark Lord may be dead to everyone else, but Severus had a feeling that that man would find a way back. And when he did, Severus would be needed to play his role.

Distracted by his thoughts, Severus absently added a pinch of rosemary to the potion, belatedly realizing he added just a pinch too much. It would not ruin the potion – the little extra rosemary would actually increase its potency – however, the potion did bubble aggressively for a few seconds, causing it to splatter on Severus's hand. Any unfinished product was dangerous and this one was no exception. It fizzled on his hand, eating away at his flesh.

Severus hissed, snatching a hand towel and covering his hand. It still hurt when the fizzling stopped. He pulled the towel away and studied the burns on his hand. Nothing a little burn salve wouldn't cure.

Severus searched his stock for the salve, but he could not find any. He was out of that particular potion. Damn it, then that meant . . .

He groaned as he realized he would have to see Poppy for the salve. And she wasn't just going to give him the potion. No, she would want to check his hand and examine him for any more injuries.

Just wonderful.

At least that gave him the opportunity to inquire about Harry's visit – if he had followed his orders and actually went to the infirmary. If Poppy told him she had not seen Harry at all, then Severus would hunt that boy down and drag him to her himself.

Severus set a stasis charm on his potion and left his quarters to see Poppy.

"Severus!" Poppy greeted. "What brings you here?"

"Poppy, I just came for a burn salve, if you could hand . . ."

"A burn!" Poppy pushed Severus to a bed and sat him down. Severus groaned, glad that the infirmary was empty most weekends. "Let me see, let me see. What did you do? A potion accident, perhaps? Splashes from an unfinished concoction can cause severe internal damage you may not see – something a burn salve wouldn't heal. You wouldn't want that – just look at your hand. I'll just perform a quick diagnosis spell and . . ."

Severus rolled his eyes as Poppy fussed dramatically over his hand. He waited while she waved her wand and studied his hand from different angles.

"Huh," Poppy said, finally drawing back. "I recommend a burn salve and you should be good to go."

"Really?" Severus lifted an eyebrow.

"Don't give me that," Poppy said, summoning the salve in question and handing it to Severus. She watched as the man applied it himself. "Potter came by earlier this morning. He told me that you told him to have his eyes examined. What made you realize he didn't have the right prescriptions?"

"Besides his atrocious handwriting and inability to follow the directions I put up for the class? That boy can hardly see a wall three feet in front of him."

"Are you implying that he crashes into walls?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Severus mumbled as he handed the salve back to Poppy, standing up from the bed. "Well? Can he see now?"

"Of course, he can see," Poppy huffed. "Now if I can just get his weight up, he'll be a normal, healthy boy."

"His weight?"

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed how underweight he is."

"He's small. I wouldn't say underweight."

"There's a difference between being small and being underweight. He's an eleven-year-old standing four eight. He should weigh at least six stone."

"And how much does he weigh?"

"I weighed him this morning when he came. He's 5.5 stone. But that's only because I've been sneaking a nutrient potion in his pumpkin juice. He refused it when I recommended it to him his first day here."

"A picky eater, hmm?"

Of course, the brat would be a picky eater. He probably grew up with free reign of whatever he wanted to eat. He probably avoided his vegetables like a mouse avoided the springer on a mouse trap. Spoiled, insolent brat.

"From what I've seen in the Great Hall, he's far from it. He eats his vegetables and fruits and he eats prettily heartily. He was more embarrassed that I would even suggest a nutrient potion. I hesitated to give him the potion after watching him eat during the start-of-term feast; he did eat so well. I figured a couple doses once a week wouldn't hurt. I was right. He's putting good weight on. He's a self-conscious boy. Timid around adults, I've noticed."

Severus frowned at that. Timid? Giving cheek and challenging him was timid?

"Humph, not around me."

"Really? Well, you are definitely not easy to get along with. Though, he did tell me to make sure I told you that he was here this morning. He kept telling me over and over to "tell Professor Snape that I came." To me, that sounds like timidity."

"And what reason does he have to be shy? He's the savior of the wizarding world," Severus sneered.

"He's just a boy, Severus. And I think there's more to him than he lets any of us know."

Severus left the infirmary with Poppy's words repeating in his head. There was nothing Harry had to hide – was there? But of course, there wasn't. It wasn't like Harry was a Slytherin good at keeping secrets or anything. But Harry being underweight still bugged him. If the boy wasn't picky, then what reason did he have for being underweight? Could it be that . . . perhaps the boy was picky at home? Putting on a show? Or was there more to his home life that Severus may have overlooked. It couldn't be that the boy was underfed? Starved? Neglected?

What was he thinking? Of course, the Golden Boy wasn't neglected – what an outrageous idea! He was pampered by his muggle relatives. His behavior thus far in the year proved how spoiled the brat was. Abused? Inconceivable.

Severus headed for his quarters. Contrary to popular belief, stasis charms did not last for long, depending on the strength of the spell. His usually could keep for a half hour, but he wouldn't take any risks. As he neared his office, which had a shortcut to his quarters, he was surprised to see Harry sitting outside the door, leaned up against the wall. The boy stood to his feet as Severus paused in front of him.

"Good morning, sir," Harry greeted.

"By now, I believe the correct term of address is good afternoon, sir," said Severus with a frown.

"Right, sorry, good afternoon, sir," Harry said.

"Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I did see Madam Pomfrey."

"So you have. Lucky you, I just finished speaking with her. She confirmed that you had gone to her for an eye exam."

"Yes, sir. She fixed the lenses of my glasses. I can see much better now!" Harry smiled.

"Then I expect you to apply your new gained sight to your homework that is due Friday."

"Oh," Harry lost his smile and looked down at his feet for a second before frowning and looking back up. "But it's due Friday."

"And?"

"Well if it's . . . nothing, sir. I'll get it done."

Severus inclined his head. "Is that all?"

"Umm . . . I think so. I just wanted to make sure you knew I had gone to Madam Pomfrey. I wasn't sure when you would go see her to ask, but I thought maybe I could just tell you and save you the trip, but I guess it wasn't necessary."

"As if I would take your word for it, Potter."

"Oh," Harry said, looking at his feet once more. "I guess . . . I just thought . . ."

"Whatever you thought, I'm sure made some logical sense in your eleven-year-old brain. But even if I had not gone to see Madam Pomfrey yet, I still would, despite you telling me what you've done. Now, are you quite finished wasting my time?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Harry turned to leave.

"Wait," instructed Severus.

Harry swung on his feet and stared up at Severus expectantly. Severus was quiet for a moment, simply staring at Harry with an impassive face. Harry squirmed slightly as he waited for Severus to speak.

Severus tilted his head slightly at Harry, his eyes unfocused as he lost himself in his thoughts.

They were fighting again.

Severus covered his ears as he huddled in his corner, waiting for his parents' yelling to die down. Almost every night they would find something to argue over. Something to fight about. It was always scary; he never knew when the hitting would start. His father, Tobias Snape, could become very physical and the marks he left on his mother, Eileen . . . the marks he left on Severus.

The small boy, eight years old, absently traced a large bruise on his arm as a loud smack sounded through the house. He earned that bruise when he had been too slow in moving out of Tobias's way and the man had grabbed him and tossed him aside. The bruise was just starting to fade, but it still hurt to touch it. The yelling had stopped. Severus waited an extra few minutes. He could never be sure if the fighting was definitely over.

A door slammed shut. Someone left the house. Another door slammed closed. His father's office door.

Severus crawled out of his corner and tiptoed to the kitchen. His parents were definitely out of sight. His mother must have gone out to London again, apparating to Diagon Alley where she worked long hours at the apothecary. His father always retreated to his study after fights, with a couple beers and the paper to read. But that meant his mother would not be making dinner and his father would not give him money to run to the store.

But he was used to this.

Severus sighed as his stomach growled angrily. This would be the fourth night his mother had not made dinner. And the third morning he had gone without a breakfast. Luckily, he went to a muggle school and lunch was served. But the fridge at home . . .

Severus opened the fridge. Like the last few nights, it was nearly empty. A glass bottle of milk, some cheese, and random condiments with no use. And several packs of beer. The pantry was no better. A moldy loaf of bread, peanut butter, and an old box of cereal.

Perhaps he could use that milk and cereal. He should save it for the morning so he wasn't starving during morning classes at school. Severus sighed and closed the pantry, ignoring his growling stomach. He would save the food for the next day, where it would better serve him. At least he would get lunch one last time before the weekend . . .

"Sir?"

Severus blinked and his eyes focused on Harry. The boy was giving him an odd look. Severus mentally shook away the reverie and frowned at Harry.

"Madam Pomfrey informed me that you are underweight, bordering on malnourishment," Severus finally said. Why was he bringing this up? Curiosity, he decided. He was just curious. "Why is that?"

"Why am I underweight?"

"That was my question, yes, Potter," Severus rolled his eyes.

"Why do you care?"

Severus frowned at Harry. "It was a simple question, Potter. Just answer it."

Harry frowned back but then sighed and shrugged his shoulders, staring down at his feet.

"I guess . . . I just don't eat a lot."

"A poor excuse for an answer. Why are you really so scrawny? You are not a picky eater, are you?"

"No, sir. And I'm not scrawny."

Severus lifted an eyebrow expectantly.

"I'm . . . I'm just small for my age and all. That's what Madam Pomfrey said. And I . . . I don't eat a lot of food at every meal and . . . I get full quickly because I'm not used to eating so much and the food here is really rich and . . ."

"That," Severus raised a hand to stop the boy, "will do for an answer."

Harry fell silent immediately and gave a quick nod.

"You are dismissed."

"Yes, sir."

Harry turned away and Severus entered his office. He leaned against the door for a moment, thinking about what the boy had said. There was hesitation to answer his question, but the boy did supply a reasonable answer. But what did it mean? Why would the boy not be used to eating so much rich food? He was probably served all the best food the UK could offer. He thought back to what Madam Pomfrey had said.

There more to him than he lets anyone know.

Could it be possible that . . . no, how imprudent to think such a thing could be happening. The brat was alive and healthy – well, healthy was debatable, but alive. That was all that mattered. There was no abuse. There couldn't be.

Potter – the spoiled prince, hero of the wizarding world, the Boy-Who-Lived – was not an abused child. Just spoiled enough to avoid eating the healthy foods.

Severus used the door that took him to his quarters. He realized he had been gone much later than he intended to be. Damn flashback. The stasis charm had worn off and the potion had bubbled over in a mess all over the table and the potion had hardened on the inside and outside of the cauldron. The cauldron would have to soak in a strong cleaner for the night before being washed. More work.

Severus sighed. He just had to let his past get the best of him. He couldn't honestly be comparing his own story to Harry's. They were nothing alike. He had lived a horrible childhood. Harry was spoiled. The weight could not be attributed to neglect. Nor could the nonprescription glasses. It was not illegal to refuse an eye exam.

Unless the boy was lying. But what reason would the boy have to lie? Although . . .

No! Severus shook all his thoughts away. Harry was not an abused child.

He was not in denial. He was just reasoning.