Severus sank down heavily into his favorite armchair. It had already been a long day, and it wasn’t even dinner time yet.

The exhaustion of a long day had settled in long ago– possibly after his conversation with Harry’s friends, and if not then, then after he had caught sight of the locks on Harry’s door. Severus had known that Harry was mistreated at home– both from the scars on Harry’s back and from the state of his clothing, but the sight of that door had reiterated the fact like nothing else had.

Harry was a prisoner in the place that was supposed to be home.

And that had been further reinforced by the bars on his window and the spartan state of the room itself. The bed had been covered in a dingy, threadbare blanket and the only pillow on the bed had been so flat as to be nearly useless. The desk had been held stable only by a book wedged under one of the legs. The walls had been unpainted and devoid of decoration and the carpeting had been rough and littered with dark stains.

And as if the condition of his room hadn’t been disturbing enough, Harry himself had been even more so. Severus noted that Harry had been dressed in ill-fitting rags– the same ones that Severus had removed the stains from as Eli. Far more obvious– and concerning– had been the sheer panic Harry had regarded him with.

From the boy’s reaction, Severus would have assumed that he, Severus, was a Death Eater there to take Harry to Voldemort, or even Voldemort himself.

Ignoring his urge to linger on this observation, Severus instead focused on the following conversation. It had been as enlightening as it was saddening, despite its promising start. Harry’s defiance as he told Severus that he didn’t need any help was equal parts relieving and irritating. But that had been the last bout of spirit Harry had displayed since.

All this together had left Severus with no qualms about lying to the boy about the state of the wards. The truth was that the blood wards would protect Harry against all who would harm him until he was an adult– or until he no longer considered that place his home. Unfortunately, the wards failed to protect Harry from the other residents- from his relatives– which was a glaring loophole. At least, obvious to Severus, who understood what it meant to be unsafe at home.

This understanding made Severus more than willing to lie. If telling the boy that the wards had fallen was what it took to remove him from an abusive household, then so be it.

And then there had been Harry’s reaction once Severus had talked him around to leaving the Dursleys. He had begun calling Severus ‘sir’ and had become far more deferential, more obedient– more fearful.

Gone was the defiant boy Severus was used to– the one who stood up to him in class, who lied to his face, even when caught red-handed.

Once, Severus would have thought that he would be delighted to see an obedient and respectful Harry Potter– like the one Severus had just brought into his home. But now he found that he did not care for this Harry at all– that he missed Harry’s spirit.

It was clear that the changes in the boy’s behavior were because he was trying to meet the standards set by those he lived with. And he clearly now saw Severus in the same role that his abusive relatives had.

As upsetting as this was, as angry as Severus wanted to be, he just couldn’t find it in himself. How could he, when he knew all too well what it was like to be in that position? And of course, Severus’s history of interactions with the boy would not be reassuring, either. He was sure that the years of harassment– both in and out of the classroom– could not be easily forgotten.

All the same, Severus was now more determined than ever to earn the boy’s trust and to ensure his holiday was as comfortable as possible.

Severus looked at the clock and saw that it was about time for him to begin preparing dinner. He got to his feet, and after a glance up the stairs towards Harry’s room, made his way into the kitchen.

The ingredients in his cupboards were just enough for him to put together a batch of chili, so Severus got to work, pulling out the things he would need.

In no time at all, he had the chili simmering on the stove. Severus sat down at the kitchen table with the latest Potions Quarterly and did his best to peruse it, but he was unable to muster the concentration necessary to do so.

His thoughts were still entirely too focused on the boy who now resided in his guest room. The boy who must be under the impression that he had gone from one location where he was hated to another– and Severus could hardly begin to think of how to correct him on this. Too much, too fast would just set him more on his guard– thus making Severus’s overtures useless. And of course, Severus could only bring himself to be so solicitous; he was never going to be Molly Weasley or Poppy Pomfrey.

He just had to hope that whatever he could offer Harry would be enough.

Severus sighed and checked the time again. Ten minutes left. He glanced at the open journal sitting on the table in front of him and closed it. He was not going to get anywhere with that- not now, anyways.

He hauled himself to his feet and set about ensuring that everything would be ready for dinner. He adjusted the spices in the chili, set the table, and served the meal, flowing from one task to the other with the efficiency acquired from years of practice.

Once the table was set and the chili was served, there was nothing else left to do. It was time to retrieve Harry from his room; Severus could either call the boy down or go up to retrieve him.

He was still standing by the kitchen table, dithering between the two options, when Harry solved the problem by coming into the kitchen. Severus concealed his mild shock at Harry’s sudden appearance– though he must not have done so soon enough, because a shuttered look came over Harry’s face. He took a step backwards, back into the doorway and nearly out of the kitchen.

“Have a seat, Mr Potter,” Severus said, taking his own seat and gesturing to the one across from it.

Harry still looked unsure, but he did take his seat. For once, Severus was glad that his kitchen table was– by necessity– so small. If given a choice, Severus knew that Harry would have sat much further away.

Severus had already served the meal into bowls, but he now wondered if he ought to have left that for Harry to do himself, if only to give Harry some small measure of control over the situation. At the next meal, Severus would leave Harry to serve himself and see if it set him more at ease.

Harry had yet to make a move towards his food, so to try and take some of the pressure off of him, Severus dug into his own bowl of chili. He couldn’t help his frequent glances at Harry, though he did do his best to be discrete about it. However, he did not like what he saw.

Harry’s shoulders were hunched down, his head bent over his bowl, his posture stiff. Severus had already made a respectable dent in his meal, but Harry had yet to even touch his own. Severus had no idea if Harry had dietary restrictions, but before he could ask if Harry could even eat chili, or even offer to order takeout instead, Harry at last started to eat.

Harry launched into his meal, shoveling his food down in such a way that Severus was concerned he might choke or give himself indigestion. Severus was concerned that a suggestion to slow down would be taken the wrong way, so in lieu of that, Severus decided that the easiest way to get Harry to slow down would be to make conversation.

And if that had the side effect of allowing Severus to begin to bridge the gap between them, then all the better.

Severus cleared his throat. “I hope you are settling in well. I believe I ensured that all the necessities are well-stocked, but I could have missed something.”

The sudden conversation startled Harry into looking up from where he had been hunched over his chili. “It’s all fine, sir,” Harry said, wide eyes meeting Severus’s for only a moment before he returned to staring at his meal.

Severus restrained his irritation with the boy– Harry was already frightened, so it would only make things worse if Severus were to snap at him and demand more verbose answers. Several steadying breaths later, Severus felt calm enough to try again.

“Well, if anything turns out to not be fine , do tell me sooner rather than later,” Severus said.

The fleeting look Harry gave him made it clear that Severus had not succeeded in calming the boy. The task of earning Harry’s trust was looking more and more insurmountable the more Severus interacted with him.

Severus continued to observe Harry as he ate and was pleased to see that the conversation had, at the very least, had a moderating effect on Harry’s pace.

The longer the silence reigned, the more tension seemed to seep out of Harry’s shoulders.

Was Severus truly that frightening? It seemed as though Severus’s continued silence was all it took to relax Harry– suggesting that it was possibly Severus’s words that Harry feared, or even just the reminders of Severus’s presence.

Perhaps Harry had just taken a bit of time to settle down, though. If this were the case, then Severus could attempt a conversation again– this time with an actual chance of success.

“I spoke with Minerva today,” Severus began, thinking that this would at least be a topic that Harry would care about, but also one that would not obligate him to respond. “She intends to begin the ward ritual with the dawn. I do not envy her the task in the slightest– she also had a meeting at the Ministry this evening, so I cannot imagine she will be getting much rest tonight.”

Severus paused then, both to pour himself more water from the pitcher, and also to see how Harry had reacted. Some of the tension had returned to Harry’s shoulders, and the fleeting look Harry gave Severus was still far more timid than he would have liked.

“The Ministry?” Harry asked, uncertain. “What have they got to do with anything?”

Severus had succeeded, then– he must have, because Harry was actually engaging with him. He stored away his satisfaction to savor later. Once he was in private and could take down his neutral mask without concern for how his reactions would affect Harry.

“Yes, the Ministry. I am unsure what the alleged purpose of the meeting is, but I have to assume that the true goal is to attempt to destabilize Minerva’s position, with the ultimate goal of installing one of their people in her place.”

At this, a large amount of anxiety flooded into Harry’s demeanor, so Severus hurried on to reassure him.

“Of course, Minerva is well aware of this, and she is more than prepared to handle anything they attempt. She views the whole exercise as more of a test of her patience than anything else because it is all so very dull.”

Harry nodded, not quite relaxing, but no longer as tense as he had been. His eyes dropped back to his bowl. Severus followed his gaze and saw that Harry’s bowl was empty.

Severus felt a twinge of regret at this, sure that Harry would, at any moment now, use his empty bowl as an excuse to escape to his room. In anticipation of Harry’s departure, Severus allowed the silence to fall between them once more.

The last thing Severus wanted was for Harry to associate mealtimes with feelings of anxiety– the boy was already far too thin– so he hoped the silence would allow dinner to end on a positive note.

But time continued to pass, and Harry failed to get up from his seat.

In fact, Harry failed to do much of anything at all. After he had set his fork down, he had placed his hands in his lap and continued to sit in silence.

Severus couldn’t help but wonder what was bringing the boy to linger at the table– he had nothing in his bowl, and he wasn’t even sipping at his glass of water.

The mystery of Harry’s continued presence was solved when Severus caught the lingering look Harry sent at the pot of chili.

“You may have more,” Severus said, without further thought.

When Harry jumped, a look of guilt on his face, Severus wondered if he had taken the right approach. It may have been better if Severus had waited to offer until he was getting himself food– to make it less obvious that Severus had caught Harry looking.

“There is plenty more,” Severus added, to make up for his thoughtless approach.

With hesitant motions, Harry reached out and took hold of the ladle resting next to the pot of chili.

Severus focused his gaze on his own bowl, to take some of the pressure off of Harry.

He was still able to hear the sound of Harry serving himself. Once Severus heard Harry set his plate back down, he looked up just in time to catch the tail-end of a grateful look that Harry sent his way.

It was this look, this gratitude for something that was a basic need, that made Severus well and truly regret that he had not done more to exact revenge on the Dursleys.

Then Harry was once again engrossed in his food, though he had not returned to his previous, furious pace, to Severus’s relief.

Unsure what to say, Severus decided to take the easy way out and say nothing at all.

His thoughts were still lingering on the Dursleys, anyways. He couldn’t help but hope that, in the course of permanently removing Harry from their custody, an opportunity to exact proper revenge would arise.

Severus served himself a touch more food, still focused on the dilemma that was Harry’s future. It was clear that Harry’s time with his relatives had had a greater effect on him than he had let on at Hogwarts.

Severus had to wonder if Harry had behaved in this way– timid, fearful– when staying with the Weasley brood or while at headquarters. Severus certainly hoped Harry hadn’t, because if he had, that meant that the Weasleys and the mutt had been far more useless and ignorant than Severus had ever thought they could be.

And that was saying something, since Severus had never held them in very high esteem in the first place.

The sound of Harry setting his spoon down brought Severus’s attention back to the present.

Once again, Harry’s bowl was empty. This time Severus felt less regret about his impending departure. After Harry had left, Severus would hurry through the rest of his meal and cleaning the dishes so he could write up the update that Minerva had asked for.

He certainly had enough insights to put in it.

Except Harry failed to get up. Severus kept a close eye on him, watching to see if he would glance at the remaining chili– an action that would indicate that he was lingering for more food.

But Harry’s eyes remained fixed on the wall for the most part, only occasionally drifting to the kitchen door.

Severus could not fathom why Harry would linger when he wanted to leave.

It wasn’t until Harry glanced at him that Severus realized what Harry was doing. Harry was waiting to be dismissed before he left the table.

This was a behavior outside the scope of Severus’s experience. Growing up, Severus had rarely had sit-down dinners with his parents– and for good reason. His father had often been passed out drunk by the time dinner had come around, and on the occasions where he had been conscious, dinner was a rushed affair. An affair that Severus had been all too eager to escape, and one that nobody had cared to prolong.

Seeing the way Harry was sitting, waiting to be dismissed, made Severus grateful that sit-down dinners had never been routine enough for that particular behavior to be expected of him.

Severus set his spoon down, any lingering appetite of his own now gone.

“You don’t have to wait to be dismissed,” Severus said.

Harry’s head whipped around from where it had been directed at the wall to meet Severus’s eyes.

“Oh, uh, thank you, sir,” Harry said, hesitant.

Harry still did not move. Severus considered his options. If he shooed the boy out of the kitchen, Harry would probably take it the wrong way, so that was out.

After closer scrutiny of the boy, Severus realized that Harry seemed to have something else to say, so Severus held his silence.

“I was waiting for you to finish, sir,” Harry began, deliberate. “But if you would like me to get started on cleaning up now, I can.”

Severus was already shaking his head before the boy had finished speaking. “I will be doing the washing up,” he said, firm enough to discourage dissent.

Severus might not know all that had gone on in Petunia’s house, but he could extrapolate enough to know that there was more behind Harry’s attempt to do the dishes than a simple attempt to be helpful. And until he did know more, he thought it would be best to try and shake Harry out of the habits and behaviors he had learned from Petunia.

Harry frowned, forehead creasing, and shook his head. “But–”

Severus merely quirked his eyebrow up, and Harry cut himself off.

“If you’re sure,” Harry said instead, dubious.

“I am.”

Severus watched as Harry got to his feet and walked out of the kitchen, pausing to send one last doubtful look. Severus remained impassive throughout the brief scrutiny until Harry dropped his gaze and hurried the rest of the way out of the kitchen.

Solitude at last. For the rest of the evening, too, if Severus was at all on the mark.

He quickly finished the rest of his meal and gathered the dishes from the table.

Severus would often wash his dishes by hand– a habit picked up from the necessity of hand-washing cauldrons– but he rather thought the day had already been long enough without the addition of standing at the sink as he washed the dishes.

He felt odd about spelling the dishes clean and sending them into the cabinets with a wave of his wand, but he knew he was justified in hurrying through his routine, especially on a day like today. Therefore, he also shot a few general cleaning spells at the counters and stoves to finish the job.

With the kitchen clean, Severus strode into his study to begin composing his letter to Minerva. He lamented the necessity of writing a letter. He would much prefer to bring his concerns directly to her.

But with the ward ritual looming so near, and her meeting at the Ministry, Minerva would need all the rest she could get tonight.

She did still want an update, however, so Severus set about summarizing his encounter with the Dursleys. Then, for good measure, he continued on to discuss how Harry was settling in and how important Severus now knew it to be that they remove Harry from the Dursley’s custody before he could spend another second with them.

It was cathartic, in a way, to be able to speak of all the things that had been on his mind all afternoon. Things that he could not speak of with just anyone.

Once the letter was completed, he sent it off with his owl, Atari. Then he summoned Potions Quarterly from where he’d left it and settled in for an evening of catching up on the latest innovations from around the world.