A Freak By Any Other Name... by Lillielle

It wasn't until dinner when Severus saw Potter's empty seat again that he realized the boy hadn't come to him to ask for his meal privileges back. A twinge of uneasiness struck him as he took a bite of shepherds pie. If the brat was as spoilt as he believed, he doubted Potter could go two meals without eating. Likely, he had sweets squirreled up in the dormitory, Severus told himself, shoving back the uneasiness. He was probably saving up all of Severus's "insults," ready to blat and whine to his relatives about how "mistreated" he was.

Still...the thought lingered in the Potions professor's mind as he finished his meal and turned his thoughts to preparing for the brat's next detention and meeting. He'd decided to make the boy's detention his first meeting instead. Perhaps then he could find out why Potter refused to eat like a normal human, and see if there was any truth to Albus's fears.

~*~*~*~*~

Harry sat in the middle of his bed, curtains pulled tight around him. All the others were at dinner. A dinner he was not allowed to go to. His stomach hurt, but he was used to not eating for days at a time. It would take quite a bit longer before hunger broke him. And when he was thirsty, he drank from the bathroom sink until his belly sloshed. That helped with the hunger, too.

His blankets had been returned. They were now smoothed neatly over the bed. After all the years with the Dursleys, Harry definitely knew how to make a bed. His pillow was still underneath it, however. He planned on sleeping on the floor from now on. Perhaps the monumental hubris he had expressed in daring to sleep on the bed, under blankets of all things, had led to his meal privileges being revoked. But he knew better. They would have been revoked, anyway. Freaks like him didn't deserve food.

He took out his pen knife again, pushing up the sleeves of his robes. Cuts from earlier still stung wetly, but he paid them no attention, instead focusing on smooth, unmarred skin farther up. A moment later, it was criss-crossed with red lines, and he sighed in relief before winding toilet paper around his arm. It made a fairly effective bandage, he had discovered years ago.

He had detention again, soon, he realized as he curled into a tight ball at the end of the bed. Professor Snape was not likely to go easy on him. He hadn't even wondered this morning why he was sprawled at the bottom of a staicase. A fourth year Hufflepuff had shoved him. Everyone hated him, even in his own House. Even in Hufflepuff, and he'd heard that that was a nice, friendly House. It was like there was a sign blinking above him that read "freak." Like the Dursleys had told everyone here to hurt him as much as they could, as much as he deserved. His cheeks burned in shame. He knew he was a freak. Couldn't that be enough? He'd unfortunately been able to make a spell work that day, and he'd been frightened of his wand ever since. How could that...how could that work? How could he make a match go pointy at the end by itself? It was disgusting. Uncle Vernon would have thrashed him with the belt <i>and</i> the cane for doing that. And he would have welcomed each blow, as each stripe helped him stuff that freakishness further inside.

The clock tolled out and he stiffened, poking his head out of the bed curtains.

It was time for detention.

~*~*~*~*~

The brat was on time again, Severus noticed as the messy-haired boy tentatively pushed the door open and stepped inside. He stared at the ground, looking swallowed up in his robes.

"Sit down," Severus instructed with a scowl. At least the brat could do as he was told.

"Potter," Severus began, attempting at least a slight smile. This would go far better if he could be pleasant to the boy. "Instead of a detention tonight, I thought we would have your first House meeting."

"House meeting, sir?" the boy asked, his voice shaking a bit. Severus's smile grew. At least he hadn't lost his touch.

"Yes, Potter," Severus replied, leaning back a bit in his chair. "Every semester, I arrange a meeting with each of my students, beginning with the first years. Normally, your meeting would be a bit later in the semester, but seeing as how you're already in here for detention, I thought we might as well get it out of the way."

"Oh. Yes, sir," Potter said softly, still staring into his lap.

"How has your first couple days been, Potter?" Severus asked.

Harry froze at the question, his stomach churning. It had to be a trick. How could Professor Snape not know? Was he laughing at him inside? Laughing that a freak like him thought he could find happiness anywhere? Friends? A home?

"All right, sir," he managed to reply. He found himself fidgeting with the sleeve of his robes. He wanted to cut again. Maybe that could help him forget the cruelty inherent in one simple question.

"Finding your classes all right?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said. He couldn't bring himself to look up at the professor. Uncle Vernon said that looking other people in the eyes meant that you were assuming you were equal to them, and that the freak was never to do so. He still had to ask something, though.

"Um, sir?" he managed to look at the desk instead of his lap. He would have thought it to be neatly organized, but instead it was quite cluttered with quills, spare bits of parchment, and potions journals. He wondered if he should offer to clean it.

"Yes, Potter?" Professor Snape said. He didn't sound angry. Just impatient.

"I know I shouldn't ask and I'm terribly impertinent and I'm sorry sir, but um...could I perhaps have just one meal?" Harry finished all in a great rush of breath, his hands tangling in his robes. He felt weak and shivery all over, like he was about to faint. He couldn't believe he had just asked Snape the question.

"What?" Professor Snape actually sounded shocked. Harry's courage deserted him. Oh no. That meant he shouldn't even have asked.

"I'm sorry, sir, I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have asked, it's just that I can do more work you want if I've eaten every day," he tried to explain, but his voice wouldn't work very well, and his ears were buzzing and his vision was going a bit fuzzy around the edges.

He heard a muffled curse dimly and then the professor's hands were on his shoulders, forcing his head down between his knees.

"Deep breaths, Potter," his Head of House ordered him. He tried to obey, but the mantle of panic had settled on him hard, and all he could think of was the upcoming punishment for daring to ask about food, to question Professor Snape's authority.

"Potter," Professor Snape said after an age, squatting before the tiny first-year. "I never intended you to go without food for more than a meal. I was...obviously wrong, but I thought you were spoilt. The food in Hogwarts kitchens is good and nutritious. I thought you were spoilt because you eat so little of it." Harry looked up then, at the Potions Master's face, although not quite daring to look in his eyes. The man looked quite pale and unsettled.

"My stomach isn't used to much, sorry, sir," Harry offered in a shy whisper. The professor nodded and stood back up.

"Potter...I am starting to believe that my thoughts toward you have not only been wrong but quite uncharitable," Severus admitted. "And I believe the rest of this meeting would be best conducted over a snack."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. It felt like his world had tilted onto its side. But--maybe it was a good tilt.