The other boys his age didn't seem to have any misguided notions that they'd be getting adopted either, unlike the younger boys who took great care in washing their clothes and keeping their hair trimmed, and even picking the dirt out from under their fingernails on the day before the open house. Harry hung back in the bedroom with some of the older boys and didn't bother to go out that day, except to use the bathroom. One younger boy, Harry thought his name was Jimmy, was taken by a young couple who oohed and awed over his pudgy six year old cheeks and neatly trimmed brown hair. Some of the other boys seemed happy to see him go, but most only seemed depressed. Harry was indifferent.

That night as he lay in bed trying to go to sleep, the bedroom door creaked open and several boys came in. Harry was aware that they were there, but pretended to be asleep. Maybe they had come in to wake someone to go out that night. Unfortunately for Harry that was not the case.

"Oomph," Harry tried to roll away as someone punched him in the back but he heard Kirk laugh then and his eyes snapped open.

"No one to pick on now that you're here," Kirk said. "No reason to go out and look for you now that you're not eating trash you spit licker. I know you ate it after we spit on it. You like spit?"

He seemed to be waiting for an answer.

"Well?"

"No."

Kirk laughed quietly and turned to look at his friends, the others who had tracked Harry down night after night to torment him.

"Guess he didn't like your spit Jason. Maybe give him another taste til' he does like it?"

He moved and Jason came over and spit at Harry. They're trying to provoke me, he thought. No, don't do anything or you'll get kicked out.

"See, we don't like liars," Kirk said when Jason finally stepped back, laughing. "It's against the rules. I know you lied. I saw you going into that fancy rich house. You even told Jason you go to boarding school."

"It was a lie," Harry said. He was feeling cornered. He didn't dare try to sit up in the darkened room when he was surrounded by guys twice his size.

"See, you are a liar. So you must have lied about liking spit, right? I'm smart see, top of my class."

"What class is that?" Harry finally snapped out. "The class of jackass?" It was a mistake and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do about it now except roll away and try to cover his face as Kirk proceeded to hit him three or four more times.

"Guess what," Kirk said in a whisper next to his ear when he was done punching him. "This is what you can expect every single night. Your only option is to leave." And then he and his friends left.

Harry reached up to his nose to pinch it to stop the bleeding, and when he was sure they had gone out or gone back to their own rooms, he went to the common bathroom and washed the blood from his face and surveyed the new damage to his body. He'd have to figure out a way to stop this, but he was drawing a blank.

By the next night Harry had come up with a meager plan and he could only hope it would work for at least the first night. Instead of sleeping in his bed he waited until the others in his room were asleep, made his bed, and then crawled underneath, though he barely fit. He had left the window unlatched and hoped they would think he had snuck out for the night. It worked. At almost midnight they came into the room and he listened from under the bed as they discussed where Harry had gone. After only a minute, they left, and after another hour Harry finally climbed back into his bed, not to be bothered again that night.

The next night he didn't dare to hope his ruse would work again, but he climbed under the bed anyway. At one in the morning, he was woken abruptly from sleep as a hand grabbed his ankle and yanked him out from under the bed, causing him to scrape his elbow and the side of his face on the metal frame.

"You little sneak," Kirk said. He was alone this time. "Jason watched the outside of the window all night, and you never went out. I'm not stupid."

"That remains to be seen," Harry said, and then braced himself for another thrashing, this time worse than the last.

"That was for two nights," Kirk said when he was finished punching Harry in the side. "Expect the same tomorrow night."

Harry didn't bother going to the bathroom to clean up this time. He sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, ribs hurting worse than ever.

"Where you came from before must have been better than this," Peter said from across the darkened room.

"Maybe."

"Could you go back?"

"Only if I want more of the same."

Peter didn't say anything else and Harry lay back on top of his covers. The only good thing about the Dursley's was his own space in the basement and the mysterious food on the neighbor's rubbish bin. Who kept putting it there anyway? He wondered if they were still putting food out and wondered why. Had it been for him? Were they just picky eaters? Was it the neighbors or someone else just dumping their garbage in the neighbor's cans?

Harry didn't have a clue, but as he fell asleep he thought it would be wise to take the opportunity to find out. He could sneak out at night and stake the place out from the Dursley's bushes and thus avoid being thrashed by Kirk, (hopefully).

Rising early enough that the sun hadn't yet come up, Harry left through the bedroom window and headed back to the Dursley's where he kept himself hidden across the street and watched the rubbish bin. The food was already there. Making certain that no one saw him, he darted across the street and sank down beside the bin to see what was inside. A scrambled egg sandwich with ham and cheese. He ate it hungrily, planning on staying away from the orphanage as much as possible that day. Maybe he'd just hang around here or down at the bay until near dinner time and come back up to see who was putting food out. A day on the bay didn't sound terrible after all.

Harry walked up and down the shoreline, picking up rocks and chucking them into the water and occasionally pocketing one that had been worn smooth by the waves. By the time the afternoon had passed he had a pocket full of smooth stones and sea glass. He was dismayed to find that dinner had already been put on the bin however. He'd spent so much time on the beach that he'd missed it.

Not looking forward to going back to the orphanage as he sat and ate another sandwich, Harry thought about the mysterious food giver. It was five am when he'd come this morning. That meant the food had been put out very early. How early? The middle of the night? He might as well stay to find out, if not to stay away from Kirk than to satisfy his own curiosity.

Harry snuck over onto the Dursley's side of the wall and lay down under a bush. There was a missing stone at the bottom and Harry watched the rubbish bin through it. He was going to catch whoever it was.

The sky darkened slowly and Harry grew bored. He tried to imagine what Ron was doing right now. Hedwig was with him for the summer and he imagined her flying high over the Weasley's Quidditch paddock watching his friends play with their old brooms and beat up red Quaffle. He'd nearly fallen asleep when he heard the rubbish bin lid rattle. He squinted through the darkness through the hole in the stone wall, but all he could see were dark feet and legs. Hurrying from under his bush he peered over the wall, and froze as a familiar voice came from the darkness.

"Caldus." He could see the motion of a wand being waved over the takeout container and his heart skipped several beats. It was near four am, and Severus Snape was putting a warming charm on fresh food on top of the rubbish bin. Harry stood up, fully in sight, and stared. It was Snape.

Unaware that he was being watched, Severus turned and startled to find Potter standing there on the other side of the wall.

"It was you."

He remained silent.

"Why are you throwing good food out?"

Harry's question seemed lame in his own ears. It was obvious that the food had been put there for him, but this was Snape. Snape wouldn't do that for him. Maybe for Draco Malfoy, or a Slytherin, but Harry Potter he hated. No, Harry he downright loathed. What was he even doing in Swanage?

"Why are you keeping it warm?" he asked, not giving the man time to answer the first question.

The man seemed to consider his answer, and then said, "For you."

"For me." It was not a question.

Severus narrowed his eyes in the darkness. He hadn't seen Potter for almost a week and a half, and was just about to stop putting food out when the food from the previous morning had suddenly disappeared. The boy certainly did look the worse for wear. A lot worse than the last time he'd seen him. His face was bruised, his nose had a giant scratch and looked as though someone had given a serious go at breaking it, there was a giant scrape up the side of the boy's face, and from the way he held himself he was obviously in pain.

"You needed it." His statement hung there between them.

"You knew... I needed food."

"Yes."

"If you knew I needed food," Harry said, working it over in his mind, "you know a lot more than that. And you didn't do anything."

"I did what was in my power to do," Severus said, voice steady and perhaps a little irritated.

"You did what was easy." Harry couldn't help but let the bitterness seep into his shaky words. Snape could have taken him back to Hogwarts. He could have contacted Dumbledore. But he just let him stay there to rot, knowing what was happening to him.

"Don't be foolish," Severus said with a sneer.

Harry shook his head and took a step back. His heart felt funny like it was beating erratically. No one in this world cares about me, he thought to himself, and it was a crushing realization. No one will pay me to work, I can't be fed without a price, and there is nowhere safe. Not even a wizard will help me.

"You know what's happening," Harry said, eyes accusing and words shaking worse than ever as he struggled to gain control over his emotions. "You know and you're letting it happen anyway."

Snape couldn't have said anything then to stop Harry from running. Harry heard him shout, "Potter!" but he didn't stop. Breathing and heartbeat still fluttering, Harry finally sank to the ground several blocks away in an alley and hugged his knees as he cried. He felt betrayed and he didn't know why. Snape had never done anything for him and he never expected him to, so he didn't know why it hurt so much that he'd continued to do as little as possible for him. And with that thought, Harry realized that he had similar emotions about the Dursleys, who always acted as if they owed him nothing and were determined to give him just that, despite that they were his only family.

Feeling like he was unable to breath and wondering if his broken ribs had punctured a lung or something, Harry gasped for air. He felt panicked and uncertain. He didn't know what to do or where to go next.

After some time, Harry wasn't certain how long, his breathing finally slowed and he stopped taking in deep, gasping breaths. The panic that had gripped him subsided and he rose to his feet as the sun came up. The front door was unlocked when he made it back to the orphanage and he went inside and lay in his bed. The other boys were all up and eating breakfast. Mrs. Hamilton came in and sat on the bed across from him.

"I wasn't sure if you'd be back," she said.

"Got nowhere else to go," Harry said dully, and then he rolled over and went to sleep.

Kirk came in to beat Harry up for three more nights and he didn't tell Mrs. Hamilton. There was nothing she could do for him until the doctor came anyway, and with nowhere else to go, he knew he couldn't stir up trouble and risk being tossed out, even if he had now added a broken wrist that he hid to his long list of other injuries.

He'd lost track of the days but apparently today there was another open house. Mrs. Hamilton had come into their room and announced that someone was coming who wanted to adopt an older boy today, so the other boys were taking extra care to get ready, as the younger ones usually did.

"I bet it'll be Peter," Sam said as he combed his hair and Peter gave someone else a haircut.

"Why Peter?" someone asked.

"Because he has skills and he's quiet and never causes anyone any trouble," Sam said. "Who wants a teenage boy who causes trouble?" Here he paused to look at Harry and so did the other boys. Harry knew they didn't stare to be mean. They were right, that was all. Harry looked like he'd tried to take on a bull or an octopus with razor sharp claws. Just like everyone else, whoever came today would assume he'd been picking fights.

"I heard someone say they want a boy that looks like them."

"That's typical," Peter said. "No one wants a child who can't pass as theirs with their neighbors and friends."

"Well lets hope they have blond hair then," Sam said, admiring his own blond hair in the mirror. Harry tuned them out until they left the room.

"Come on," Peter said, pausing at the foot of Harry's bed.

Harry looked up. "What?"

"Won't get taken out of here if you don't go out there."

"No one will take me," Harry said, and he knew he couldn't let anyone take him either. No Muggle would believe him if he said he was a wizard and had to get on a train in London to go to wizarding school in the fall.

"Come on anyway," Peter said.

"Why?"

Peter shrugged. "Make the other boys feel better... to have a chance." He smiled and though Harry didn't return it he did get up and follow him out.

There were four couples sitting in the living room talking to younger boys about their interests and likes and dislikes, and a middle aged couple in the kitchen talking to Kirk, who to be fair, looked decent when he was all cleaned up and didn't have a scowl on his face or balled fist at his side. Kirk spied Harry watching him and smirked before going back to the couple who was talking to him about his good grades and the possibility of going to University someday.

"And what's your name?" Harry froze and turned to find Snape standing there in his usual black slacks and black button up shirt.

"This is Harry Weasley," Peter said, coming up behind Harry and putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Weasley?"

Harry didn't say anything and instead just stared at him.

"He's quiet," Peter said, "but he's a pretty good worker. He always does his chores."

Snape turned his attention to Peter then. "Are you trying to sell me a child?"

"It's a possibility." He slapped Harry on the back and Harry winced because he'd gotten his ribs.

"Why do you not try to sell yourself?"

Peter smiled. "I've been here since I was born. Mrs. Hamilton is more my mum than anyone else will ever be. Harry though, he could stand to have a family. Besides, he looks like you, don't you think?"

Harry stared at Peter, incredulous. Did he really think Snape was here to adopt a child? No, the man was there to torment him, or hopefully to pretend he was there to adopt Harry to take him out and get him back to Hogwarts. If Harry was lucky he'd take him to the Weasley's for the last month of summer.

"Indeed," was all Snape said though, and he turned and walked into the kitchen.

Peter raised his hands as if to say ‘I tried' and left Harry there to go and help someone else try to secure a family. Harry went to stand in the kitchen doorway however and watched as Snape spoke to Mrs. Hamilton.

"My, what happened to you young man?" Harry looked up briefly to the middle aged couple who had been talking to Kirk a few moments before, eyes flickering back to Snape and then back to the couple again.

He shrugged.

"Looks like someone's gone at him," the man said. "That happen here son?"

He let his eyes go to the floor and the man cleared his throat. "My eyes are up here," he said.

Harry looked up. He didn't know these people but years of schooling at Hogwarts had taught him to be respectful even if he didn't feel like it.

"It seems to me that if someone is bullying you in here, a stop should be put to it."

Harry didn't mean to do what he did next, but it happened anyway. His eyes darted to Kirk, who was still in the kitchen, and then back down to his feet again. The man took Harry's arm gently and lead him into the hallway, his wife following.

"I'm a police officer son, you can tell me."

"I can't," Harry said.

"Wouldn't you like to leave this place?" the woman asked. "We're looking for honesty in a son."

Harry looked up and felt the panic start to rise in him again. If he ratted out Kirk and they didn't adopt him, and Snape didn't take him out of this place, he would be dead he was certain.

"If you take me," Harry said, trying to be as vague as possible, "whoever did this will just keep doing it to other people."

The man looked at his wife and she gave a nod.

"Mr. Weasley," Mrs. Hamilton said then and Harry's head snapped up to her. Snape was beside her. "Mr. Snape would like to adopt you."

Harry let his head fall back against the wall in relief. Snape was taking him out of here. He was sure he'd be back at Hogwarts by dinner time. Maybe he could even convince the man to break into the Dursley's house to get his school things back as well.

"Excuse me," the other man said. "We'd like to discuss taking Kirk. It seems to me he could use some strong discipline."

The man turned to wink at Harry then and he couldn't help but finally letting a small smile cross his face. He hoped Kirk got a lot of discipline. Maybe they'd send him off to military school... or St. Brutus'. Wouldn't that just be icing on the cake?

Harry sat on the front steps while Snape went into Mrs. Hamilton's office to fill out whatever paperwork she had to release him. He was certain Snape was using fake details and would burn the papers later. There was no way the man would ever adopt him.

Peter came to sit on the steps next to him.

"Two birds with one stone," he said.

"Huh?"

"Got you adopted out and away from Kirk, and then you went and got Kirk adopted out and away from the rest of us. Jason and Bill will stop being such jerks after he's gone."

"You really don't want to be adopted?"

"Nope, I'm good where I'm at."

Harry looked at him. "You're a good guy."

"I hope to be."

Twenty minutes later, Snape came out the door and stared down at Harry. Harry stood up and followed him wordlessly down the street and around the corner. He turned back just in time to see Peter going back inside with a smile on his face.

When they were almost back to Snape's house, Harry said, "Thank you."

"For what Mr. Potter?"

"For taking me back to Hogwarts."

"School doesn't start for 35 more days."

"Where am I going then? The Weasley's?"

"You no longer bear the Weasley last name. You are going to take a shower and then go straight to bed so I can heal your injuries."

Harry stopped walking, heart feeling funny again. Snape stopped as well and turned around.

"I'm staying with you for the night sir?"

"I have just adopted you Mr. Potter. You will be staying with me for a lot longer than one night."

Harry shook his head. "You fake adopted me, to get me out of there... you adopted Harry Weasley, not Harry Potter."

"I explained to Mrs. Hamilton that I am your professor from school and that your real last name is Potter. I assure you, the documentation is legal."

He shook his head harder, panic overtaking him. No, Snape wouldn't adopt him, he didn't care at all for him. He was just pulling his chain. He'd send him right back to the Dursley's tomorrow morning he was sure of it, and then he'd really get thrashed.

"The Headmaster, he'll make you send me back."

Snape put his hand on Harry's shoulder and nudged him gently to get him moving again so the Dursley's didn't spot them as they were standing almost directly in front of their house. "Muggle contracts are also legal and binding in the magical world Potter. I assure you, the Headmaster will not be able to refute it."

Harry couldn't breath, just like days before when he'd run from Snape in the middle of the night. No, this wasn't right. No one wanted to adopt him. No one cared that much for him. Snape was lying. He had to be, or else he had only done it out of guilt. That was the last thing he wanted, someone who pretended to care out of guilt or pity.

Before he knew what was happening he began gasping for breath and his legs buckled. Fortunately they were already at the steps leading up onto Snape's porch and as he fell, Snape caught him and helped him to sit on a step.

"What is wrong?" Snape asked him thinking it was one of his injuries causing this. Harry couldn't speak though. He could barely move because panic was gripping him so hard he couldn't think straight. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong, was all he could think. It's a lie, I'm not adopted, I'm still just me.

"Potter, look at me," Snape commanded and Harry's eyes focused and snapped up to Snape's black ones.

"I cannot help you if you do not tell me what is wrong."

He shook his head and closed his eyes. His throat was closing off and he couldn't tell him. Even if he could speak he wouldn't know how to tell him what was wrong, he didn't know himself, and it scared him.

"Potter," Snape warned, and Harry reached up and gripped Snape's arm hard.

"Is this from an injury?"

Eyes still closed Harry shook his head.

Snape pulled Harry into a standing position and guided him into the house where he deposited him onto the couch. If Harry had opened his eyes he might have seen that the living room was fairly modern and very nice.

"You need to focus on breathing or you will pass out," Snape said. "You are having a panic attack."

Panic attack. Panic. Yes I feel panicked. I don't know what to do. He clenched his eyes shut tighter.

"Listen to the sound of my voice and focus on the tone. Hear the words and how they flow evenly. Hear the calmness." Harry's grip on his arm slackened slightly as Harry focused on his words instead of the tight feeling in his chest and his inability to breathe.

Snape talked for a few more minutes, though what he said Harry couldn't remember later. He supposed it was nonsense just to get him to calm down. Whenever he thought back to that moment, he was always surprised the man hadn't just poured a calming draught down his throat.

Finally Harry let go of Snape's arm and opened his eyes. His nerves felt frayed and his thoughts still felt erratic. He also felt embarrassed and his cheeks tinged red as Snape stared at him.

"I know I am not the ideal parent Potter, but I did not expect you to panic over the news that I had adopted you."

Harry looked away. "I'm sorry," his voice scratched. It wasn't that it was Snape who had adopted him, it was that he had been adopted at all that had set him off. No one could want him. The Dursley's had said it so many times, and it had proved to be true time and again.

"Potter."

Harry's eyes came up to meet Snape's.

"I suggest you do not continue thinking about whatever it was that led you to anxiety in the first place."

Harry gave a nod.

"Are you able to stand to take a shower?"

Another nod.

"I will show you to the upstairs bathroom then. I need all of your wounds to be clean so I can heal them."

He followed the Potions Master upstairs, feeling confused, and let himself be lead into the bathroom. There was a blue folded towel waiting for him on the counter with a folded washcloth.

"Am I to assume the rest of your things are still with your relatives?"

Harry gave a hurried nod and Snape left the bathroom to give him privacy. Harry looked around. It was a nice bathroom, and it would be nice to have it to himself without someone else in there brushing their teeth or using the toilet, which was always the case at the orphanage.

Harry showered and was careful not to touch his scrapes and bruises too much, and also avoided looking at them. Snape said he was going to heal him. It was bad enough thinking about Snape seeing all of his injuries. He definitely didn't want to look at them himself and know what Snape would be seeing.

When he was done he stepped out and gently toweled off, having difficulty because of his ribs and wrist, and put his clothes from the orphanage back on. They were clean, after all he'd just washed them last night.

He stepped out of the bathroom with the towel in his good hand, uncertain of what to do with it. At the orphanage the boys all kept their towels with their other belongings, even if they were dirty.

"In here," Snape said, stepping into the hallway at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Harry walked barefoot down the carpeted hall and into the room on the right at the end. It had large windows going nearly from floor to ceiling overlooking the backyard and the bay. There was a twin bed with a soft dark blue blanket and light blue sheets, and a closet. Other than that the room was bare.

"Sit on the bed Mr. Potter."

Harry obeyed, still holding his wet towel.

"I will be able to heal you faster if you inform me of all of your injuries." The man gave him a hard look and waited. Harry wished he didn't have to talk though. He felt numb and just wanted to go to sleep. Maybe he'd wake up tomorrow and be back at Hogwarts. Maybe this was all just a bad nightmare from jitters before the last task of the triwizard tournament. Wouldn't that be nice, he thought, feeling a little like Luna Lovegood just then.

He cleared his throat. "My ribs and my wrist. And a lot of scrapes and bruises."

"How did you get the scrape on the side of your face?"

He swallowed. "Kirk dragged me out from under the bed. My face scraped the metal frame."

"And you were under the bed because?"

He looked away. When Snape didn't move or ask him another question however, he felt uncomfortable with the silence and said, "Because I didn't want to get thrashed."

"Didn't you fight back?"

Harry's eyes dulled and glazed over then and instead of waiting for an answer, it was Severus' turn to feel uncomfortable and he left the room to gather healing potions.

"I am unskilled with spells to mend broken bones," he said as he opened a phial of clear potion and handed it to Harry. "St. Mungos is out of the question given that several death eaters work there, and Madam Pomfrey is out of the country at the moment. Potions will have to suffice. They will take several days and several doses to work."

Harry downed it and was handed three more of varying colors before he was done. Snape pulled out a tin of bruise balm and practically coated Harry in it.

"How do you feel?"

"Dizzy," Harry said.

"That is the bone mending potion. It is drawing on your strength to pull the bones back together. You will need to stay in bed until the potions are out of your system." Harry lay back and was surprised when Snape helped to pull the covers out from underneath him so he could cover up.

"Thank you," Harry said as the man made for the door.

"For?"

"For coming to take me back to Hogwarts," Harry said sleepily.

"I stand by what I said earlier Potter. You live here now. Hogwarts is still more than a month away." He waited, perhaps for Harry to respond, but when Harry didn't say anything else or go into another panic attack, he left, leaving the door open.

Harry stared at the ceiling. I live here. In this room. No, I live at Hogwarts where I have a few good friends, a Headmaster that doesn't care, and a Potions Master who hates me. And then he closed his eyes to guard himself against the spinning room, and drifted into a confused sleep.