The stone was hard and sharp and it ruthlessly cut into his skin, scraping and hurting. Harry protected his head with his arms as best as he could, wishing for the all world he was anywhere else but here.

 “Oh, look at the snivelling pansy!” Harry clenched his jaw against the grunt of pain that forced its way out when a kick landed on his ribs. “Trying to be brave, I bet, eh, Dud?”

 Dudley guffawed, “yeah, yeah!”

 “Bet you're used to this, pansy, being pressed face first to the ground, eh? I bet your school is just like this, every day?”

 Harry grunted as Piers kicked him again when he didn't answer fast enough. “Yes, yes, Piers.”

 Harry winced and cried out as his face was shoved down on the stone. “Don’t think you're smart, disgusting pansy!”

 “I don't.”

 Harry hated the Dursleys. He hated the Muggles who lived in Privet Drive. He hated them for never helping him, for never seeing him and always looking away, for avoiding him and silently approving of the abuse and bullying that went on right under their noses.

 “Bloody right you're not, you snivelling bastard!”

 Just then, at that moment, there was an instant of terrible silence.

 “What's this?” A quiet voice hissed dangerously, icily.

 “Nothing,” Piers said nonchalantly, patting Harry's head. “Just checking something with Pansy here, right?”

 Harry said nothing until someone tugged so hard at his hair that his eyes watered. “Right,” he whispered. “Nothing…”

 “Oh,” the stranger purred darkly, “I beg to differ.”

 When Harry was gently tugged up from the ground, angry tears of shame staining his face, glasses broken and shattered on the ground, he was surprised and dismayed to find Professor Snape there, staring at him with his dark eyes that seemed to say so much, but still were so empty. “You…” Harry croaked disbelievingly and then he looked away. “I'm sorry,” Harry muttered.

 Professor Snape glared dangerously and he hissed, “What was that, Potter?” He gripped Harry's bruised and aching shoulders with his hands.

 “I'm always bothering you.”

 The Professor stared silently at him for several long, uncomfortable minutes. “You are not,” he finally declared. “You are to come with me, Potter. I cannot allow you to remain here. It is counteractive for your health, mental as well as physical.”

 Harry sobbed, his hands fruitlessly wiping his face.

 “Now what?”

 “H-he said I, I, I couldn't leave! But I hate it here and he said I had to go back!”

 Severus squared his shoulders and knelt down, suddenly on the same level as Harry and it made Harry feel intimidated. “Look at me,” he demanded softly. Hesitantly, Harry raised his head, hands held over his eyes in a protective gesture as his skinny frame shook with the force of his sobs. “Harry—” Harry gasped through his tears. “— you will not return to those Muggles, you hear me?”

 Harry nodded, not really believing the man, but wanting to. Wanting desperately to do nothing more than attach himself to his Professor, bawl his eyes out and be…taken care of. “I…I can't stop!”

 The hands were back on his shoulders, gentle, rubbing slightly. “When was the last time you cried, Harry?”

 It was the ‘Harry, that did it. That felled the last of Harry's defences and he threw himself at Professor Snape, small hands reaching out to clutch fistfuls of coarse black linen.

 -x-

 “Um, sir?”

 “Yes, Harry?”

 “I…you know, you don't have to—”

 “I am aware. However, I find myself wanting to. Now sleep, lad. Tomorrow will come far too soon as it is and I have no doubt that it will be…trying.”