There was something in Harry's throat that felt distinctly like panic. One minute he was in the Hospital Wing getting his eyes checked because his glasses didn't seem to be working properly anymore, and the next thing he knew he had been summoned to the Headmaster's office and told he would be going home for Easter Holiday.

Despite his varied protests (and the fact that he now had detention that night for something he'd said that he'd rather not repeat again), he would indeed be going back to the Dursley's for an entire week.

"My apologies dear boy," Dumbledore had said, "but you spent Christmas at the castle and after all that has happened I and the other staff feel that it would perhaps do you some good to see your family again and spend some time with them."

Even now, twenty minutes later as Harry marched down to detention he was still breathing hard. This wasn't right, nor was it fair. He didn't even know if they'd be there when he got there or if they had up and gone just to get away from him for good. They had threatened it after all, hadn't they?

Working hard not to do something stupid because he'd already been assigned his one detention for the week and didn't need another, Harry fought off the urge to kick every single thing he passed by. When the Headmaster had said the ‘other staff' felt it would do him some good, he was sure that translated to: you've stressed everyone out so bad that they need a break from you. McGonagall had in fact said she hated him. He was sure she had lobbied for him to go home so the castle could have a week of peace and quiet. Apparently it wasn't enough that he'd gone from five detentions a week to one.

When questioned on why he'd received detention, Harry told Snape that he'd called the Headmaster a name he was advised not to repeat, and Snape gave him a stern look.

"Well what did he expect forcing me to go home like that?! Maybe I want to stay here for the break!"

Severus handed him a mop and bucket and Harry grumbled as he began mopping Snape's office floor. He was sure the Dungeons had the cleanest floors the school had seen in two hundred years.

"Regardless, it was inappropriate. Quidditch practice has been canceled for the break in any case so you do not have to worry about missing it. We're doing an extra practice Wednesday afternoon after classes and Friday evening to make up for the ones you'll miss Saturday and Sunday."

Harry shot him an irritated look as he mopped in the corner near some wood filing cabinets. He thought this was about Quidditch? What was he, a Chudley Cannons fan? Not everything revolved around Quidditch! Well... at least this didn't. Even as Harry finished up the office and mopped his way out into the hallway he could feel the panic and anxiety creeping up on him again. He thought he'd had an extra few months before he had to worry about going back, or rather, where to go if he wasn't going to go back.

For the next few days Harry struggled through the pages of homework he was continuing to do without turning them in, and fell so deep into his anxiety at times that he forgot completely that his friends from his previous life had now taken to looking at him now and again.

Something else had been going on that Harry barely noticed as well: Decklan and Ethan had been stopping him from getting into trouble. Tuesday Harry had been sitting just outside the library on a bench mindlessly ripping pages out of his Potions book as he tried to finish his homework when Decklan came up and grabbed his hand, bringing him out of his trance. "I wouldn't," he cautioned. "Madam Pince is coming this way because someone told on you." Harry had just grumbled a hurried thanks and moved off to find a more secluded place to sit.

Twice on Wednesday Ethan knocked hard into him just as he was about to curse or put his foot in his mouth in front of a professor, and then on Thursday just before Quidditch practice was scheduled, Decklan dragged him away to go to practice just as Harry had begun to turn red at something one of Avery's old friends had said about Ginny.

"Come on then," Decklan urged. "Professor Snape will be angry if you're late because you're busy ripping somebody's head off."

"Yeah," was all Harry had managed to say, feeling in a daze. He could swear he could feel his blood pressure rising and he wanted to rip his hair out. Nothing was right. He just couldn't go back. Not again. Not ever.

By Friday, when a trip out of Hogsmeade on the train towards London was imminent, and Harry had thought of no viable way to escape, he knew he was at the breaking point.

Somehow Harry made it all the way through practice without having the panic attack that he knew was coming, although he wasn't sure how. He had missed nearly every Bludger that had been sent his way, and his mind was fuzzy through the entire two hours out in the chill breeze.

Feet firmly on the ground, Harry made his way into the shack that served as changing rooms. Most of the other players hadn't brought a change of clothes down today, including Harry, but he needed an excuse to be alone, so he grabbed the school brooms along with his own and made his way inside. Decklan followed but went into the other room to change. When he was out of sight, Harry leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. All he could think was, ‘what am I going to do?'

Without warning memories of the past summer came flooding back to him, and he felt panic grip his chest and refuse to let go. Harry's body was in the locker room, but his mind was on the side of the road in an unfamiliar place in Northern England watching cars drive by. The Dursleys had taken him on vacation, and as soon as they'd pulled into the parking lot of the motel, they'd told Harry to get out and get them some food. They'd only given him a few pounds, but Uncle Vernon had insisted that there was a small fast food restaurant that he loved that was very cheap just around the corner. Harry had looked for almost an hour, but could find no place like his uncle had described, and when he'd gotten back to the motel, they were gone. The clerk said that no one matching their description had checked in. What was worse was that his uncle had insisted his wand stay at home in his trunk, locked in the closet under the stairs. With three pounds to his name, no wand, and shame in his heart that he had been totally abandoned, Harry hadn't the courage to summon the knight bus or try to contact anyone in the wizarding world... even if he knew how.

The sound of brooms clattering on the floor brought Harry back to the present, where he found himself on his knees in the darkened shack, brooms scattered around him. He was breathing hard and his head was pounding like his heart.

The noise caused by Harry and the brooms brought Decklan out of the other room, where he found Harry on his hands and knees shaking.

"Hey, hey what's wrong?" Decklan fell to his knees beside him, and Harry reached a hand up to cover his eyes.

"Harry, what happened?"

Shaking his head, Harry still couldn't say anything because his throat felt too tight to speak without letting out a sob.

"I'm- I'm going to go get Professor Snape. Just hold on." Decklan moved to get off the floor, unsure what was wrong with Harry, but Harry's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

"Please- don't." His voice was harsh.

"What? Why? Tell me what's wrong."

Trying to calm his breathing, Harry pushed himself up and sat back on his knees. He hadn't cried but the temptation hadn't passed either.

"I uh... they're making me go home for the break."

Decklan frowned. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Harry looked him square in the eyes, and his impression was enough to make Decklan flinch. It was full of fear and certainty.

"Is it that bad?"

Harry nodded and then sat all the way on his hind end against the wall.

"Well... wouldn't it be better to tell Professor Snape? Then you wouldn't have to go back, right?"

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Harry said dryly, "It doesn't matter what I say. They still say I have to go back. I always have to go back."

Decklan thought hard for a few minutes as Harry continued to gain composure of himself, and when Decklan finally spoke, Harry was still shaky but seemed a far sight better than when Decklan had first run in.

"I'm going to tell Professor Snape. If it's really that bad then he should know."

Meeting his eyes again, Harry said, "No. Don't say a word. They'll think I'm just making it up to cause trouble. I don't-" he trailed off. He had caused a lot of trouble, but this one was not a lie, and in any case, he couldn't stand for them to know about his home life. Couldn't stand the shame of being known as the poor little neglected and abused Harry Potter.

"But-"

"Please?"

Giving him a hard stare, Decklan made up his mind.

"Fine. I won't tell. For now."

"It's only a week," he told Decklan, although he was also trying to reassure himself. Only one week. I can make it through that, can't I?

"One week," said Decklan. He pushed himself up and left the room, though he didn't look happy about the promise he'd made. Harry had a feeling Decklan was a man of his word however, and knew he had at least a week before Decklan told anybody. Hopefully by then he'd be back to the castle in one piece, and who would believe Decklan because how could he know about Harry's life? Harry would just deny it, and so would the Dursleys. Yes, that was a plan. Deny it all.

* * *

"Oh, there you are Severus. I was just looking for you. Oh dear, what's happened to your hand?"

Severus held up his hand to show the mediwitch the minor chemical burn he'd incurred that morning while brewing. He just couldn't get his mind on the potion he'd been making after seeing how distracted his team Captain had been after practice Friday. It had been four days, and Decklan still appeared to be as deep in thought and dazed as Potter usually was these days.

"Just a minor burn, and I am out of salve."

"Well sit down there and it will be healed in a jiffy." She summoned a tin from her office and began to rub it onto the back of his hand.

"You were saying?" Severus prompted as she finished up.

"Hm? Oh yes. Mr. Potter's glasses have just come in. He's been wearing a bad prescription all year and I just tested him last week. They've finally come in and I thought I might ask you to deliver them to him."

Severus gave her a look and she scoffed. "Yes Severus, I know you're not an owl, but you've been handling him all year." She didn't have legilimency powers, but it was something Severus had insisted several times in staff meetings when the Headmaster had asked him to deliver something or other to somebody... I am not an owl. Minerva had hooted at him one day and since then the staff would not let it drop.

"He has gone all year with a bad prescription you say?"

"Yes, can you imagine?"

"Then why can it not wait three more days until he returns on the train?"

Poppy crossed her arms now, glasses in one hand, and said, "Does his health mean so little to you? It's dangerous to walk around with poor eye sight! I'm ashamed that you would even-"

Severus held his hand up to forestall the lecture and held out his hand for the glasses.

"Thank you for the salve he said," and walked out before he said something rude that he might regret. Emphasis on the ‘might'. It was rare that he regretted anything, but when he did, it was something good to be regretful about.

Twenty minutes later, Severus was at the edge of the Hogwarts wards and ready to apparate, glasses tucked safely in his pants pocket. He'd had to make a trip back to his quarters to rid himself of the robe, because he didn't want any rude looks or questions about the way he looked as he ventured out into the Muggle world. It would be a quick trip, only as long as it took to knock on Potter's door and deliver the glasses, but still, better safe than hexing some Muggle and ending up in front of the Wizengamot.

In five seconds, Severus was strolling down the distinctly Muggle street in the suburbs in the waning evening light. He could see various families through living room windows just sitting down to dinner, and decided to make the delivery as fast as possible so that he too could get some dinner.

As Severus approached four Privet Drive, he was just considering going to a Muggle restaurant when the door to Potter's house was thrown open, and Potter was flung out of it and down the stairs by a bulky figure still standing in the doorway.

"Disgusting! You have no right to eat at our table! We thought we'd made it clear when we left you on vacation that you weren't wanted here, and you dare come back! We'll you'll see boy. The next time you come back, we'll be gone! We'll move to another country if we have to!" The seething man slammed the door, leaving Harry on the ground nursing several injuries. Severus was too much in shock (which was unusual) to move forward to help, and also curious as to what the child would do next.

Back to Severus, Harry pushed himself up as best he could, but his injured ankle gave way and he went back down to the ground. After another attempt he managed to half crawl half hop across the driveway and around the side of the house, where he knelt down and lifted his hand up to the gash over his right eye, only to retract it in pain.

Acting as if he'd done this a thousand times already, he calmly turned on the hose faucet and gingerly washed the dirt off his face and the several other scratches he had up his arms and through the hole in his ripped shirt. When he was done he pulled himself up on one leg and peered in through the window at the family calmly having dinner at the dinner table as if nothing had happened. They ate as if there had never even been another boy in their house.

Severus could see from Harry's slumped shoulders and the way he shook that he was on the verge of tears, and it occurred to him then that perhaps there was good cause after all for the teen's behavior at school. Regardless of anything the boy may have done just before Severus had arrived, there was no cause for this kind of treatment.

Harry turned then as the sky darkened and saw his Professor standing there on the sidewalk, glasses held limply in one hand. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Harry limped over to him, eyes down and shoulders shaking.

"Can I please go home now sir?" He lifted his eyes just long enough for Severus to see the unbidden tears pooled there, and then dropped them again and ran his arm across his face.

Noting the days old bruises, Severus stared down into the eyes of the boy he had never properly seen before, and said, "Yes Potter. Let's get you home." He turned to walk down the street to Arabella's house, where he knew they could apparate safely, but Harry hadn't moved, and he turned to find the boy staring at the sidewalk and struggling to gain control over his emotions as the streetlights finally flickered on.

Not knowing where the desire had come from, Severus put his arm around Harry's shaking shoulders and was surprised when the teen leaned into him and gave a sob, one hand over his eyes trying to keep the tears from spilling out. Severus put the other arm around him and allowed Harry the comfort he needed for a moment more before he said, "Come along Harry." Breaking free of his Professor's gentle hug, Harry allowed himself to be steered down the street in the darkness.