The next morning, Severus worked on grading the potions Friday’s first year class had created. They were not half bad, really; some a little thick in consistency, but they were all passable. Even Harry’s Forgetfulness potion was near perfect, just a hardly noticeable shade off. Severus’s mind strayed to the strange behavior Harry had displayed during the spill in class. It just seemed too familiar . . .

               But really, his mind was just jumping to the wrong conclusions too quickly. Why would the savior of the wizarding world be anything but the spoiled, adored, praised brat that he was?

               Severus decided to take a break from his grading and head to the owlery. Perhaps his owl, Castiel, had returned. The problem with spending the majority of his time in the dungeons meant that his owl couldn’t come to him with any deliveries. Which was fine, he could just seek the owl out when he felt the need to.

               Entering the owlery, Castiel hooted and flew down to his master, holding out the muggle envelope grasped in his claws. Severus frowned and looked up to where the owl had been perched. Was this honestly it? No package, no box, not even a jumper? Maybe there was money inside the envelope. How spoiled the boy was to be allowed to just go but more clothes to add to his fancy wardrobe. Severus glared at the envelope and accepted it from Castiel, who stayed near just in case and preened.

               Severus opened the envelope and looked for muggle money or even a check before pulling out the folded letter.

               Harry,

               Tell your professor to sod off and do not send your freaky pests to this house again! How dare you demand anything from us, after everything we’ve done for you! If you need clothes, here is some money to buy your own. Do not bother us this year again.

               Aunt Petunia

               Severus stared at what was taped to the bottom of the letter – a twenty pence piece.

               What on earth could anyone but with that? A thread from a mitten? What was this – a joke? Well, it wasn’t a very funny one.

               Severus reread the letter. He could feel the hatred pouring off it. This didn’t see right at all. Severus sent Castiel back to his perch and walked out of the owlery, still looking at the letter. No, this couldn’t be right at all. This had to be a joke. But there were no clothes delivered. No friendly greetings. And certainly, no money to buy even a chocolate frog with.

               “Severus,” Minerva greeted as Severus returned to the main hall of the castle. “I’m surprised you’ve emerged from the dungeons. What is that? Since when do you get letters? Who’s it from?”

               Severus hid the letter against him as Minerva tried to peer over his shoulder at it.

               “Do you mind, Minerva?”

               “I’m just curious,” Minerva shrugged carelessly, walking in step with Severus. “So, who’s it from? Friendly neighbor? Long lost relative? Secret lover?”

               Severus rolled his eyes while Minerva just smirked.

               “Or better yet, a secret admirer?”

               “No, Minerva. Get those impractical thoughts out of your head. It’s just business.”

               “If it’s just business, why can’t I look at it?”

               “Because it’s none of your business,” Severus snapped.

               “Fine, fine,” Minerva said shaking her head. “But if it is a secret admirer, I’ll find out sooner or later.”

               “You infuriating woman. If I ever catch you tampering with my mail . . .”

               “No worries, Severus,” Minerva said slyly, turning down a different hall to head to the Great Hall. “Besides, I have other ways of discovering information.”

               Severus was glad when Minerva disappeared from sight. He looked back at the letter, pulling off the pence tapped on. It was as if the boy was worth no more than that pence to those people. Severus had known Petunia when he was younger. She was always berating Lily and Lily’s magical abilities. Petunia had been a horrid child. He remembered when he first met her . . .

               “Petunia!” A little red-haired girl called to another girl. “Watch this!”

               Eight-year-old Severus watched as the pretty redhead picked a flower and then made it hover in the air. It was a rather well controlled display of magic at her age. The other girl, Petunia it must be, frowned at her.

               “You’re a freak!” Petunia snapped, pushing the redhead, nearly knocking her to the ground. “I’m telling Mum and Dad and everyone about what a freaky girl you are!”

               The redhead’s green eyes watered as she backed away from Petunia. Severus glared at that Petunia girl before standing up from his place by a park tree and approached the two girls.

               “She’s not a freak,” Severus said. He picked a flower himself and sent it flying to the teary-eyed redhead. “She’s just gifted.”

               The redheaded girl gently caught the little flower and smiled at Severus.

               Petunia had at first stared wide-eyed at Severus before glaring at him, too.

               “Great, now there’s two freaky kids in this neighborhood! You’re like an infestation spreading. I’m telling Mum I want to move!”

                Petunia turned and ran out of the park. Severus smirked and approached the redhead.

               “Thank you,” the girl smiled. “You didn’t have to do that. She’s a nice sister when she wants to be.”

               “I’m glad she’s not my sister,” Severus commented. “I’m Severus by the way.”

               “Lily,” the redhead smiled.

               Severus just stared into her green eyes. He didn’t think eyes could be so green, but he knew he had a new favorite color now.

               Severus shook his head, snapping out of his reverie. Damn, but he seemed to be doing that more and more lately. And all over this stupid case with Harry Potter. Severus glared at the letter as he entered his office and then his quarters. Clearly, Petunia never grew up.

               The phrase “your freaky pests” was something Petunia would say. So very like that woman, Severus sneered. Did this mean that she treated Harry the way she treated Lily? Severus hoped that wasn’t the case. While Petunia and Lily had been children together, Petunia was an adult now and Harry was an innocent child in all of this. And knowing how cruel Petunia could be . . . but would she really deny a child warm clothes? The sentence “How dare you demand anything from us,” struck Severus as – yes, she would deny a child warm clothes. Specifically, Lily’s child. This entire letter was just . . .

               Damn it! How could this be happening? Harry was supposed to be a spoiled prince! And while that was certainly no better child rearing, Severus would have preferred it to this potential – no, not potential – this obvious case of neglect and emotional abuse. And where there was that much abuse, physical abuse tended to be nearby. That would explain Harry’s reactions to simple things.

               Severus wanted nothing more than to deny it. He wanted nothing more than to forget he had ever gotten involved in Harry’s life. Nothing more than to hold on to those fantasies of a spoiled brat being slaved upon by his overindulging relatives. He just had to write that letter.

               In all honesty, he had been hoping to just help the boy get some of his winter clothes. Severus closed his eyes and tried to remember the details of last night . . .

               “I said no. I won’t write a letter. I . . . I can’t. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon don’t really . . . they don’t like owls or stuff like that. Owls . . . freak them out and all and . . .”

               “They’ll have to get over it,” Severus said. “You need your winter attire. It is not healthy to be without it.”

               “No, sir, you don’t understand! They really hate owls! They won’t like one having to go to them and they’ll be mad at me and . . . they probably wouldn’t send anything anyway.”

               “And why wouldn’t they,” Severus was trying hard not to yell at the boy’s foolishness. Harry did seem really desperate to not have a letter sent out. He was on the edge of a panic attack really.

               Harry hesitated to answer, then said, “To teach me a lesson for forgetting.”

               How could he have been so blind?

               All the details, the hints, the evidence – it was all there. Why would anyone hate owls? Owls were as common as any other bird that flew through the sky. But Severus could guess why Petunia would hate owls – they had a connection to the wizarding world. Of course, it all made so much sense. And to think that all this time he had believe Petunia had grown up and matured a little. How wrong he was.

               Frustrated, Severus ripped up the letter and through it into the fireplace, wordlessly igniting a flame as he did so. He stared at the pence in his hand angrily before he threw it across the room. He’d find it later if the house elves didn’t dispose of it. He hoped they did or he might blast it into the earth, taking out a portion of the dungeons with it.

               Severus made a quick decision. He grabbed a cloak and left the castle. He walked past the apparition wards and continued his way to Hogsmeade. He knew what he had to do.

               Later that evening, Severus finally returned to Hogwarts. He hated shopping – especially when he didn’t even know the boy’s size. He had managed to buy six jumpers, five trousers, a winter cloak, a thick winter robe, trainers, boots, gloves, woolen socks, a scarf and a hat. These should last the boy for winter. For now.

               He managed to use a packing spell to fit everything in a single package and then used a spell to make the package feather light. He wrote a quick note for the package.

               Since you are too stubborn to write home and ask for your clothes, I have personally seen to it that you have appropriate winter wear so you do not catch hypothermia. Do not ruin these as I will not be so gracious again. – SS

               Severus went to the owlery and called to his owl, handing the package to him to deliver.

               “Take this to Harry Potter,” Severus demanded. “Make it quick.”

               After Castiel flew away, Severus decided he could use a drink before heading to his quarters. He had already missed dinner, but what was one missed meal? Severus arrived at the teachers’ common area and, ignoring everyone else inside, he just went directly to the bar area and pulled out a beer. Sitting at the high countertop, Severus sipped at the beer slowly.

               What a revealing day.

               And he hated every second of it. At least the other professors knew to just leave him be.

               After a couple minutes, Minerva entered the common room. She looked at Severus and smiled.

               “There you are,” she greeted, joining him in the bar and pouring herself a wine. “Did you write back to your secret admirer?”

               “Drop it, Minerva.”

               “Oh, come on,” Minerva smirked, sitting at the high-top across from Severus. “Let me in on this. I can give you advice I’m sure you’ll need.”

               “As I said before, it was just business.”

               “Fine,” Minerva took a sip of her wine. “You know, I just came from Gryffindor Tower. A little homesick first year girl needed some reassurance. But before I left, Harry received a package – full of brand new clothes and was he excited! He, Ron, and Hermione looked over everything – though I think Ron may have been a little jealous.”

               “Wonderful,” Severus commented sarcastically.

               “I wonder if that boy’s relatives sent him an early gift,” Minerva pondered, tapping her chin. “I had my doubts about that muggle family, but it seems I was wrong. They really have blown my mind in ways –”

               Unable to hear much more praise for that atrocious family, Severus wordlessly conjured a projection of the letter from Petunia from a memory. Minerva frowned and leaned forward to read the nearly transparent hologram-like letter. Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened.

               “I knew it!” Minerva snapped. “I knew it all along. I told Albus those people wouldn’t care for Harry one bit! When did that come? Did Harry show that to you? Why didn’t he bring it to me? I mean I am his Head of House and all –”

               “I received it,” Severus interrupted, cancelling the spell. “When Potter came to me for detention one night, he was not in suitable clothing. I told him to write a letter to his relatives, he refused, so I wrote it. This is what I got back in return.”

               “But . . .” Minerva frowned. “But he got something from someone.”

               “Me. He got them from me.”

               Minerva was silent for a moment before asking, “Why the sudden investment in Harry’s life? Why did you do it?”

               Severus sighed. Why had he done it? Why had he bothered to waste his money on the brat? Was it personal? Was it because he had suffered a similar situation in his own life? Severus shook his head.

               “I don’t know. He needed clothes and if his horrid relatives weren’t going to send him any, someone had to make sure the boy survived the winter. This castle gets dreadfully cold as you well know.”

               “Yes, I’m aware. But why not bring the matter to me? I mean, after all, I am his –”

               “Head of House, yes, you’ve said.”

               Minerva was silent again, sipping her wine.

               “Well,” she began. “Thank you for doing so. He’s very happy, showing his clothes to his friends and smiling for once with pure joy.”

               “He’s clearly bragging about his new, stylish clothes.”

               “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Minerva chastised. “He’s just happy and –”

               “Self-centered,” Severus snapped. “Just like his father.”

               “Don’t do it, Severus.”

               “Don’t do what?”

               “Shut down. Push people away. What you always do when you don’t know how to fix a problem, especially one involving family matters similar to your own.”

               “I do not push people away,” Severus told Minerva plainly as he finished his beer. “Simply because there is no one for me to push away.”

               “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

               Severus glared at Minerva before standing and leaving her at the bar. He left his can near the sink and left the common area. It was nearly curfew and he figured he should finish his grading. As he neared his quarters, who should be waiting outside his office but Harry Potter himself. Just wonderful – exactly who he wanted to see right now.

               “What are you doing here?” Severus snapped down at the boy.

               “I just wanted to thank you, sir,” Harry smiled up at Severus. “For the clothes. They’re really nice and I hope you didn’t have to go through so much trouble. You didn’t have to spend so much money on me. If you want, you can take them back to save you some –”

               “I will not hear of it,” Severus held up a hand to stop Harry’s blabbering. “I bought you the clothes because you were too foolish to have clothes sent to you from home. You’re just like your arrogant father – spoiled, selfish, and reckless about your own health. Someone has to make sure you are in good health at this school, and if you won’t see to it, then that falls on a responsible adult. I could not let your negligence to care for yourself cost you hypothermia or pneumonia.”

               “Wait a second,” Harry frowned up at Severus. “I told you, my relatives wouldn’t have –”

               “Nonsense! I will not listen to any more lies from you. Your relatives should know how to take proper care of you – why wouldn’t they not? They have a kid of their own, you are clearly no different.”

               “It’s not like that . . .”

               “Do not interrupt me! You may believe yourself privileged because you are the Boy-Who-Lived . . .”

               “I don’t think that at all!”

               “I am not finished! But you will not brag about the clothes I sent you and you will tell no one else about where you got them.”

               “I didn’t even tell Ron or Hermione, I just showed them the clothes . . .”

               “Interrupting again,” Severus snarled. “This conversation is over. The bell will ring for curfew soon and you better be on your way because I will take points if you are still out in the halls when that bell does sound. Now go back to your tower.”

               Severus did not miss the tears in the boy’s eyes as he slowly backed away.

               “Is it so hard,” the boy began, “to just say you’re welcome?”

               “Trust me,” Severus spat out, “when it comes to you, it’s impossible and undeserved.”

               Even with teary eyes, Harry glared at Severus before turning and running back to his tower. Severus entered his office, slamming the door behind him. He was done helping children for a long time. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t stomach it. He was a professor and that was all.