It was with care that Harry approached the rest of the day. Lunch had arrived, and he had yet to see Stephen. Although Stephen's family was visiting today, so there was that to take into account. Harry thought that perhaps he really had meant to stay away from Harry. It made Harry feel rather forgotten as he stared morosely at the slice of processed meat on his stale bread. He hated to say it, but the sandwiches at lunch here never failed to be terrible. Today he couldn't even make the best of it and feel lucky it wasn't as bad as what the Dursleys used to feed him (or not feed him), because every time he thought of the Dursleys he had the sudden desire to puke.

He had caught Snape observing him from across the room early that morning, knowing very well that his swift departure from the room when he awoke had drawn Snape's attention. He really didn't like to think of what Snape might say in class someday if he knew what Harry's home life was like. Assuming Snape went back to teaching, of course, but Harry supposed it would be just his luck if Snape did. Snape, a few tables over, was glancing every so often again, and Harry could feel the prickling sensation of his eyes on the back of his neck.

Harry was startled out of his thoughts by Stephen sinking down across from him, sandwichless and looking grim.

"Hiya Harry," he said, his face wan and pale, a dark clay pot clenched in his hands, which only succeeded in making them appear more ghost-like. The pot looked to be handmade. Harry didn't remember clay pots being a craft project. He supposed Stephen must have made it before Harry arrived at Oak Tree.

"Parents come yet?" Harry asked, glad for an excuse to distract himself from Snape's unwelcome surveillance.

"This afternoon," said Stephen, setting the pot on the table and staring down at it. The glaze was painted on well, although it did show the slight wobble of a beginner's hands on the pottery wheel. "Thought Dad might like this. He grows his own mint. For tea. Hoped it might mend things between us a little. Y'know."

"I bet he'll like it," Harry said.

"Hope so," muttered Stephen.

"Hey, can I sit with you guys?" asked Kyle, one of the other teens.

"Sure," Harry said, having played ground Quidditch a few times with Kyle. He had been sitting with them on occasion.

"Catch the match between the Tornadoes and the Wasps on the wireless yesterday?" asked Kyle, stuffing a sandwich into his mouth nearly whole.

"Yeah, it was good," Harry said, eager to discuss the match, which he had tuned in for some time in the main room yesterday evening. It had been fun to listen to. He'd been trying to get his mind off of the overheard conversation between Snape and Daisy, and had dropped in to listen to the game with a few people. Somehow listening to Quidditch on the wireless seemed like such a novelty to Harry, despite being used to sports events on television. Summers with the Dursleys made him really appreciate those little things that others from wizarding families shrugged off as no big deal.

Harry and Kyle started to rehash the match. The knot of worry in his chest over the events of the past day or so melted away as Harry talked of Quidditch. It was only when Kyle had gone that Harry noticed the empty seat across from him. Stephen, in his silence, had gone without his notice. The only evidence that he had even been there was the pot, forgotten on the table.

... mends things between us a little ...

"Damn ..." muttered Harry, staring at the pot.

He snatched it off the table, and ran for Stephen's room, hoping that he was still in there before going off to see his parents.

Harry knocked on the door, surprised that the rainbow lettered sign that has Stephen's name on it to mark the door had disappeared.

Right ... gay pride flags ... rainbow. Last thing he'd want his father to see although they'll be in the visiting room so why bother?

Harry felt a sudden dropping of his stomach. Stephen actually felt he had to get rid of a sign with the colours of the rainbow. How terrible would that be, hiding from your own father ... so afraid of him visiting you had to take it down even though he wouldn't even be in your room?

"Oh, thank goodness, Stephen, your pot, you forgot it," Harry said holding up the pot triumphantly as the door began to open.

His smile slipped when he saw a man, lined face, dark curls like Stephens, and a frown upon his features.

Harry froze. Past him, he could see Stephen standing by his bed, evidently finished showing his mother some of the projects he had lining his bedside table.

Oh. Sign ... gone ... shit. He must have had something to show them in his room. Damn - piss - shit -

"Stephen, who is this?" said the man curtly.

"Oh ... er, someone I know," said Stephen, coming over to grab the pot from Harry. He took it, not looking at Harry.

"A ... friend?" said Stephen's father, narrowing his eyes.

"Er, I should go," Harry said, sensing the tension and suddenly feeling sick.

Stephen's father gave a meaningful look at his wife, who looked slightly uncomfortable, although for what reason it was unknown. While Stephen's father was looking away, Stephen stared at Harry.

"I told you to stay away," hissed Stephen icily under his breath so nobody else could hear. "Go."

Harry, trembling suddenly, backed out of the door.

"Stephen," said the father. "How do you know this boy? I thought we agreed to no funny business -"

"Dad, he's just a friend, I swear -"

The door snapped shut, and the argument in its alarming beginnings ceased to be heard by Harry.

I've done it now I've done it I really messed this up all my fault Stephen said not to now he hates me he hates me

I hate me look what I did to him now his dad's mad and what kind of dad says that - but it's my fault I started it -

What did I do what did I ... how could I ... nobody wants you not loved not wanted not loved hated hated screw-up screw-up just like Sirius (you let him down too didn't you) screw-up screw-up!

Harry ran, and he didn't care that he was breaking the rules by running. He fell down on his bed and his heart pounded and he knew he'd really done it this time because the look on Stephen's face had been one of pure loathing and Harry hadn't known his parents would be there seeing Stephen's room (I swear I swear I didn't know) and how could he possibly fix this? Stephen's words had been pure venom (and I thought you were my friend, Stephen, that's not what friends do).

I told you to stay away stay away I told you I told you. GO

He'd tried so hard today. He'd done so well. He'd called Hermione, hadn't he? He'd called Hermione and then he'd been better but now he was a screw-up and Snape knew all about the Dursleys and he probably agreed with them and what was he going to do?

***

The clock ticked slowly on the wall, one thirty-two slowly bleeding into one thirty-three.

"I think ... Potter's home life is ... undesirable," Severus said.

"And what has brought this idea on?" asked Joseph, unwrapping a stick of bubble-gum and putting it in his mouth. Severus had seen him do this often. He wondered if he was trying to quit something, but he thought better than to ask.

"I was in the process of making that list for our Hogwarts Abuse Action Plan, of signs seen in children who have been abused," Severus said with a frown. "Potter, not long ago, had a bad day ... and he had a sort of relapse. Black had been in the paper, and I followed Potter back to our room and found him hurting himself. It was not new to me, exactly. I have seen children do that before."

Severus stared off at nothing for some time, feeling that strange, twisting sensation in his gut that he usually got upon thinking of the students he had seen over the years ... starving themselves, cutting themselves, abusing substances. He hated seeing that. Hated it. Contrary to popular belief he did care about his students. He did want them to have what he hadn't. Safety, stability. And have the coping skills he had lacked. Still lacked.

Joseph waited, sensing Severus would continue. He was right again in his silence, as he usually happened to be. Severus liked that he didn't talk much, or ask too many questions. He let Severus bounce his thoughts around.

"Potter looked so alone. And he was so shocked that I helped him. I think ... he thought I would be mad ... or that he was not deserving of help. It was not the normal kind of low self-esteem I have seen in students, however. This was more ... fearful. Like he expected harm versus help. I know that look. I know it ... I understand that feeling. It is obvious when you see it on the face of another.

"And Black - Potter was so incredibly attached to the man. Yet he has hardly seen him in the past two years, as Black was on the run. They have mostly just written letters. Despite how little they really knew each other, Potter worshipped the man. He ran into the bloody Ministry of Magic to save him, the Dark Lord be damned. Potter is a rash Gryffindor, but he was so frightened of losing Black that he was willing - albeit with some convincing I am told - to let his friends walk into such a dangerous situation. I have never much liked Potter, but I know that he will do anything to protect his friends. He went alone in his first year to face the Dark Lord then. Why not this time?

"No. I think that - although he probably does not believe this - I think that whether he wants to admit it or not he had to make a choice. He chose Black at that moment, willing to gamble both his own life and the lives of his friends in that split second because he couldn't handle losing Black. And they hardly had gotten time to really get to know each other.

"That is the mark of desperation. Of starvation for care ... love. To go to such lengths to save Black knowing that he himself would probably die, Potter showed his hand.

"His relatives are not invested in his life. That is what I believe, and it has obviously taken its toll on Potter."

Joseph was quiet a moment. "Interesting. You have obviously been thinking deeply about this. So, you are worried for him?"

Severus let out a weighty breath, but nodded slightly, however grudgingly. They were silent a moment.

"You know what bothers me most, about all of this?" Severus said suddenly, the thought that had been eating at him for some time now coming to the surface.

"What?"

"I ... I am almost ... glad to find out Potter's home life is not the best. No. Not glad ... relieved, maybe?"

"Why?" Joseph asked, placing his elbows on his knees and leaning forward.

Severus suddenly felt shaky, and he clenched his hands together tightly, his heart beating faster. "Because ... that means I have purpose."

"Purpose in helping Potter?"

Severus nodded.

"Tell me about that."

Severus took a deep breath, then began shakily, "I ... I have come to see that I live not for myself ... but for the fight. Purpose, I suppose, whatever you like to call it. As a child I lived to prove my father wrong ... prove that I was better than he was ... that I would succeed in school and show him I was smarter. The n in school I lived to spite James Potter and his little gang. I fought to keep going every day to show them they couldn't beat me. Then ... then ... I joined the Death Eaters. Stupid ... but I needed a cause. A purpose. Somehow I convinced myself that being a Death Eater would give me one. But it did not, and I made the worst mistake of my life and then Lily died. She had been my best friend once upon a time, and I loved her. More than anyone. And she was dead.

"You know, I thought about it then. Killing myself. I was close."

"What stopped you?" said Joseph.

"Another fight," Severus said, shaking his head slightly. "Another battle for me to win. Dumbledore asked me to turn spy. To avenge Lily and pay for my wrongs. Protect her son. And then ... that fight ended when I was discovered as a spy. The rest of the Order was watching out for Potter. I became obsolete. Useless. Purposeless. My war was done."

"And so without a fight, you felt like you had nothing," said Joseph.

"Yes," muttered Severus. "And I've been trying to find purpose again, and it's been ... it's been ... really hard. But, now that I think Potter might not be what I thought, that Potter's family might be mistreating him ... I feel ... better. Sort of. It is horrible. But I now that I have someone to fight for, I feel better." Severus took a shuddering breath, looking up from his feet to meet Joseph's eyes, wanting to know the truth. "Does that ... make me a bad person?"

"Severus," said Joseph, "feeling relief that there is some way you can find purpose does not make you a bad person. Do you wish you could fix Potter's situation?"

"Well, yes, of course, he is Lily's son, and no child deserves to be hated by their family, not even James Potter -"

"So you do not want him to be abused."

"No, if I could fix it I would, in a heartbeat."

"I think, Severus, you are experiencing relief that you have found a reason to keep going. Motivation of any kind at this point is good. That small bit of purpose you see may not be a happy fight to lead, but it is still a reason to keep going. I believe this is a big step for you. You have identified a goal. You wish to help your student, and protect him as you were once asked to. There is no shame in feeling relieved about having found a reason to stay. I think this is good."

Severus nodded, feeling the tension in his spine melt away.

***

Harry lay on his bed, holding his arms tightly around his chest. He'd kicked his shoes off and he was lying as still as possible. The guilt was starting to subside now, his arms tucked safely around him as he stared out the window. He couldn't stop the tears, but he didn't try. He let them come, and the scratch on his cheek stung as they ran over it. He rolled over to his other side, hoping the cut on his cheek wouldn't sting as bad if it was facing up. He stared at Snape's empty bed. What does he know what did he find out why does he suspect ...

Harry his shut his eyes tightly, even more aware of the cut on his cheek.

I was doing so well doing so well I called Hermione this morning I did and I felt better for a while

Now look

Failure

Screw-up

You knew you were shaky today so why did you have to mess up and make Stephen hate you?

Just had to mess it up didn't you? Freak.

He shut his heavy eyes, the room spinning slightly as exhaustion washed over him. He shut his eyes.

***

The minutes ticked by quicker now, and they finished the session with Joseph agreeing to go talk to Richard, Harry's healer, to ask if he had any suspicions of abuse. And as Severus walked down the halls of the ward, he felt his feet on the ground properly for the first time in a long time. He had agreed to help Potter. He was going to find a way to get Potter to speak of what was going on. Something was going on. It was just a matter of getting Potter to be willing to admit to it and take action with those who could help.

It was three-o-clock when he stopped back at his room to grab his notebook. He was hoping to keep working on the workshop curriculum to be taught to Professors for the Hogwarts Abuse Action Plan.

He found Potter, eyes closed and breathing deep. Severus froze in the doorway, staring. He closed the door as silently as he could, and the boy didn't stir. Grateful, Severus went into the narrow space between his and Potter's beds to get to the bedside table with his notebook.

He glanced at Potter.

Tears.

Wait. Tears?

Potter's face was streaked with tear stains. Severus sighed slightly. There was a new cut on Potter's cheek. What happened? The boy did not stir, but continued to breathe deep, rolling breaths. Severus glanced around the room. The blanket had fallen off the bed, probably kicked off by Potter. It was cooler today.

Severus hesitated, studying Potter. After a moment he picked up the blanket, unfolded it, and carefully lay it over Potter.

The boy did not move an inch, and Severus left the room, notebook under his arm.

Once he was out in the sitting room, he pulled out his self-inking quill and scribbled a few lines in his notebook, just for thinking purposes.

Step one - gain Potter's trust.

He smirked slightly.

And Potter will be thinking right now that I believed he was a sleep.

He hated getting caught being nice, but sacrifices had to be made if he was to get Potter to spill his secrets.

Besides. Harry Potter would have had to spend a lot more time faking sleep to fool Severus Snape.