He had Potter settled down onto his sofa, and lit the fire. His dungeons were always cold, but this was something he would have to change as long as Potter was staying with him. Potter had absolutely no body fat so the temperature of the room was going to have to make up for that. He wondered for a moment what the overnight temperature of the Dursleys' house was. Certainly not warm enough for Potter.

Any minute Harry - Potter! - was going to wake up and undoubtedly he would have a full blown panic attack on his hands. He summoned some calming drought to have on hand the minute Harry woke up.

Blast everything! It was Potter, or Mr. Potter, but certainly not Harry! He couldn't afford to get emotionally involved. Every year, he had one or two abused Slytherins to deal with. He was a spy, and even if the public believed the Dark Lord gone for good, he and Albus knew he wasn't. They knew he would have to maintain his ambiguity until the war was finally and truly over. Pluswhich, he didn't care what happened to Potter's spawn. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that the same boy was also Lily's child. Oh, life had a cruel sense of humor! He was a cold, dark man, not the sort who Harry should have to deal with. Alright, alright, it wouldn't hurt anything to call him Harry. He could do that since there didn't seem to be any good in opposing it.

He ran his hands over his face in exasperation and sat down in an armchair near the sofa. He let his eyes run over the sleeping form. Maybe Albus would be able to take Harry's case. No, that wouldn't work. Albus didn't know anything about abuse. Severus was living proof of that. He'd just drown Harry in grandfatherly affection and sweets. Not that Harry didn't need affection - he needed it so much - but Albus would never understand. Harry would truly drown psychologically if Albus looked after him. Harry had been denied affection for so long, could Severus even understand? Was there anyone who could understand? No, Severus doubted there was. But who could understand the most? Who had the most experience with such things? Even a fool would have known that he, Severus, topped the list. It was a rare occurrence that any serious abuse was hidden in the lives of any of the other three houses. Gryffindor did a few, but that was it - a few. The only reason they ended up in Gryffindor was because they chose the route of having no self-preservation in the face of their abuse. Sometimes he still got those in Slytherin, because the hat knew that they would be better off there. But there were still a few who insisted on Gryffindor for their house. He hoped Harry wouldn't do that.

Wait, why would he even care? That would mean he would be Minerva's problem, and not his. Wasn't that what he wanted? Well, Minerva was little better than Albus in terms of abuse. Even though she had her abused lions, she tended to ignore it with them. They didn't want to talk about it, so she didn't push the issue. He did. He always forced his Slytherins to face their abuse and look it in the eye. Otherwise it would haunt them for the rest of their lives.

He didn't know what to think about Harry. Yes, he had dealt with many, many abused Slytherins. Even from Death Eater families. In many ways, especially from Death Eater families. He always did everything he could to help those children, even getting them a foster family. What had been the worst he'd seen with them? Drunkard fathers, who didn't leave much money for good food or clothes, who beat their children occasionally when they were drunk. Perhaps a Death Eater parent who used cruel methods of discipline. Maybe even the crutatious. But always for very clear and blatant violations of reasonable rules.

He sighed again. Somehow he knew that this would be a common occurrence now. He didn't have to speak to Harry or the Dursleys to know that those scars had not been placed there because of a sassy mouth or deliberate disobedience to reasonable rules. How would he ever be able to address this with Harry? When he spoke to his Slytherins about their abuse he could take a number of different approaches. he told those whose fathers were drunks that their fathers only beat them when they were no longer in control of their senses. Not that it made the crime any less, but it was not part of who they were directly. His own father had had a violent temper, and combined with his drinking habits, had made him a very unpleasant man at best and a dangerous one at worst, but his father was not sadistic. With the Death Eater children, their parents were sadistic, by and large. But they were also in full control of themselves, and were predictable. They were reasonable, even if cruel. He usually could convince the children to simply follow any rules put out by their parents and therefore avoid the abuse. While not always the best solution, he could only do so much against fellow Death Eaters before arousing suspicion against himself.

What would he be able to tell Harry? In both cases, often, the parents did love their children. Especially those from Death Eater families. Often the parents really did love their children. They were just wrong about how to handle them. Take Lucius Malfoy. As Draco's godfather, he knew that Lucius had used what he would call abusive punishments for Draco. But never for a moment would he question Lucius' love for Draco. How would he be able to explain the the depth of the hate the Dursleys had felt? Well, he didn't need to explain that. Harry knew. How would he explain that Harry didn't deserve it? It was all Harry knew.

It would be like trying to describe the color red to a person blind from birth. It just couldn't be done. Would he ever be able to show Harry how to live? He hoped - he really hoped - he would. Suddenly he felt very tired. And of course it was at this moment that Harry began to stir. Severus grabbed the calming potion and knelt on one knee beside the sofa. Suddenly his tiredness didn't matter.

Harry began to move ever so slightly as the potion wore off. Then suddenly, all at once, he stiffened, and his eyes snapped open, meeting his own, Severus', eyes. He gasped a bit, but otherwise had no reaction save unusually large eyes. Lily's eyes. Severus caught his breath when he looked into them. He saw the fear and mistrust in them, but what unnerved him even more was the acceptance. It was so startling seeing that. Lily had never had that sort of acceptance. But then, Lily was never abused like Harry had been.

"How do you feel, Harry?" Severus said, quietly, trying not to startle the boy any more than he was already. Harry shrugged and looked away.

"Can you speak?" he pressed. Harry nodded, meeting his gaze again. "Then I want you to use your voice. We need to talk about a few things, and I need you to speak to me."

"You...you won't beat me for speaking?" he whispered softly.

"No," Severus said, making an effort to keep his voice level. He could tell this was going to be a long, hard road for both of them. "I won't beat you. I won't beat you for anything. I will never beat you. I won't hurt you in any way. And I won't let anyone else hurt you either." Honestly, he was impressed Harry hadn't had a panic attack yet. It would almost have made him more comfortable if he would just have that attack. It would have been the normal thing. Was nothing about this boy going to be normal? "Do you understand?"

"No," Harry whispered slowly. Severus sighed and let his shoulders droop in exasperation. How could he understand? "I mean, yes!" Harry said quickly, judging the disappointment in his posture. "I'm sorry! I understand!" His arms curled over his head and he pulled his knees up into a protective ball. His breathing was coming quickly now, and Severus saw the panic attack coming.

"Here, drink this," Severus said. "You're not in trouble. I'm not angry. This will help you." Harry didn't uncurl, and shook his head. Severus sat on the couch next to where Harry had curled himself. Harry responded by scooting to the end, which was already quite close, and pressing himself into the corner.

"Harry," Severus said, trying to contain emotions he didn't even know the names of. "Everything will be fine. Just try to relax a little bit. Regulate your breathing. Breathe in and count to 3 and then release your breath. Count to 3 again and then inhale. Do that until you feel a bit more relaxed. Then loosen your muscles. Start with your neck and shoulders. Then move on to your arms. Now your back. Now your hips, and finally your legs." Severus could hear the ragged breathing evening out and the muscles loosening. "Now can you look at me again?" Slowly, painfully slowly, Harry uncurled, pulling his arms away from his head.

.oO-Oo.

He didn't want to do so. He didn't want to relax, and he didn't want to uncurl. Yes, sure, the man said he wasn't going to hurt him, but words were easy, and everyone he'd ever known had hurt him. The man obviously lied. Just wanted him to make it easier for him to be hurt. But his words were so calm and gentle. And he explained everything. He didn't just tell him what he wanted done, he told him how to do it. Harry felt himself doing exactly what the man said even though he didn't want to.

Who was this man? A stranger had come to Number Four Private Drive, and carried him out of his cupboard, and then he had fallen asleep. And apparently for a long time because he was not at Private Drive anymore, that much was certain. He just didn't understand. What was going on? Who was the man? Why did he pretend to care? What was his game? If the man wanted him to work, he could do that. He wasn't weak after all. Did he want to hurt him? He could live with that. But wait...

He was almost all unfolded, and he noticed that his wounds were healed. His back didn't hurt like it always did. Sure, it still hurt, but it felt like all the fresh cuts were gone. And his arms. He pushed his sleeves up a bit and saw the cuts on his arms were gone too. The scars were still there, but the cuts were gone. Then he looked at his hands, and the fingers were straight again. His middle felt good, and he could breathe normally again. He sucked in his breath and held it. He wasn't going to cry. He just couldn't cry. That was weakness, and he couldn't let the man see his weakness. He'd already seen too much.

"I see you're finding that I've healed you," the man said softly. Harry released his breath after he couldn't hold it anymore, but it came out as a sob. And after that, there were just more sobs. So he covered his face with his hands. His hands. His hands didn't have straight fingers anymore. They were supposed to be distorted. Oh, what did this man want? He rested his forehead on his knees, and didn't know what to think.

Then he felt something reach across his shoulders, and he flinched back. Or forward rather. Oh, he didn't know what was happening. He just sobbed harder. Then the touch firmed, and the man pulled him close, despite the constant flinches he gave at each move. Finally he rested under the man's arm, and the man just cradled him there.

"Shh," he said, as he began to move his hand over Harry's arm. "You can cry. It's alright to cry. I'll be here." Harry just stayed under the man's arm. There was no point in fighting it, was there? He already knew that there was no way he could ever hope the physically challenge his uncle. His uncle just weighed too much. Sure, this man wasn't nearly as big around as his uncle, but he was taller, darker, and, Harry thought, stronger. He better not fight. Or he'd be worse off than with his uncle.

Why did the man touch him? The only times he was ever touched at the Dursleys was when his uncle or Dudley had hit him. Or done worse to him. He hated being touched. Maybe this was the man's way of hurting him? But no, this was the way Uncle Vernon touched Dudley when Dudley was scared or sick. So obviously not all touching was bad. But it was for him. Why did the man touch him? Aunt Petunia had always made sure she hit him with something other than her hand because she didn't want to touch him at all.

He didn't know what to do. He didn't understand. So he cried into the man's robes. He tried to calm himself like the man had showed him. He tried to control his breathing. He breathed in odors he'd never smelled before. This man was strange. Strange and terrifying. Harry was sure he knew lots of ways to hurt people. And he was sure he had done it too. He shuttered and gave into his crying.

.oO-Oo.

Severus didn't know what to do either. He had pulled the boy close, just because it felt right at the moment, but he didn't know what to do now. His only idea was to wait until the boy wore himself out and then try to start again with him. So far, he hadn't used the calming potion. And honestly, crying wasn't the worst thing Harry could do. Alright, his robes would need a good cleaning spell after this. Tears and snot all over his robes wasn't something he intended on keeping on him very long. But it was a small price to pay. The boy needed to cry.

Harry was so thin. Severus could feel every bone under his hands. How could the Dursleys have done this to him? This wasn't feudal Europe. This was post-modern England. People didn't just starve here. There was more than enough food. How could their consciences have let them see the boy day after day, deathly thin, and yet, he was willing to wager, if he were a gambling man, that Harry didn't complain. And that if he did, there were dire consequences.

It disturbed him more than he wanted to admit that the sobs were as quiet as they were. Harry didn't seek attention with his crying. He was just crying because he couldn't hold it in. Severus could only imagine that crying was a forbidden activity for Harry, and so he did it as quietly as possible. He sighed softly, and leaned his chin on the black mop of hair, just holding him.

.oO-Oo.

It seemed like hours later, but finally Harry lifted his head from his chest. His breathing had evened out, and Severus thought that maybe he had finally run out of tears.

"Feeling better?" he asked, trying to make his face non-threatening.

"You - you made me better..." he whispered in awe.

"Of course," Severus said, patiently.

"But I can't pay you. Not with money. I don't have any." His words were coming quickly, trying to explain before the man got angry at him.

"I don't expect any money," Severus said. Well that was the worst thing he could have said. Harry face fell and his breath started coming in soft gasps. He closed his eyes, and Severus could tell he was in acute emotional pain.

"Here, drink this," Harry heard through a bleary haze in his mind. Without question, he took the vial offered to him and threw it down the back of his throat. Why fight? It wasn't worth it. The man would win anyway. He might as well save his energy for something he needed.

Severus blinked when Harry took the calming drought without question and drank it. He had expected more of an argument and was almost disappointed when Harry didn't even ask what it was. It could have been deadly poison that killed him the minute it hit his stomach. There was a little voice that whispered that maybe that was what Harry hoped it was. And he couldn't help but feel saddened and then angry at the Dursleys for doing this to the boy.

Slowly, Harry felt his sanity returning, and although he knew he should be panicking, he just couldn't remember how. The man didn't expect any money. So he expected something else. And he felt fear clawing at his stomach, or what was left of it.

"You don't need to give me any money," Severus assured him, in what he hoped was a comforting tone. He thought he was proven wrong when Harry stiffened, but really, it was only the words. "I don't need the money," he continued, still trying to explain. "I have plenty."

"But then I'll still owe you," Harry said, trying to explain in kind. "You healed me, and I need to pay you somehow."

"No, you don't," Severus said, slightly more forcefully this time. "I don't need any payment. I just wanted to help you. I don't want anything."

"Uncle Vernon always made me pay him if I needed medicine," he whispered softly, barely audibly, as he looked at his dirty sock-covered feet and played with them nervously.

"I'm not your uncle," Severus said simply. "How did your uncle make you pay if you didn't have any money?" Harry just hissed nervously in reply.

"Who are you?" he choked out. Well, Severus let this change of topic go. Now was not the time to push the boy.

"I'm Severus Snape. You are at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry, and I am a Professor at this school. I teach potions. You are in my care, and under my protection, and I will make sure nothing bad happens to you."

"You mean - you teach magic?" Harry's eyes were at the biggest they had been yet.

"Yes," Severus said. "This is a school for magic. You're a wizard, Harry."

"I always knew there was something wrong with me," he muttered. "That's why they called me a freak. I did these strange things," he suddenly admitted, not knowing why. Why should he tell the man about the strange things he did? That would make the man just hurt him like his relatives had done. "And when I did them, they would punish me." Harry shuttered at some memory, and looked like he was expecting to be struck for even speaking of his accidental magic.

Severus didn't need to ask who they were. And he didn't dare ask what had happened. Not yet, anyway. Later, he would make Harry face it, but not now.

"You did what any normal wizard does, Harry," Severus said. "It's called accidental magic, and it's like growing teeth, or saying your first words. You start showing magic as you grow up, and wizard parents are very proud of their children when they first start showing magic. It was wrong of your relatives to punish you for it. It's only natural." Severus touched Harry's chin and brought his gaze to meet his own. "I don't expect you to understand it yet. But it's true. Your relatives were wrong. And I'll say it as much as I have to, until you understand. Someday, you'll understand." He let go of Harry's chin and wrapped both arms around him, pressing him close.

So much for no emotional involvement. That idea was long gone. Well, it never was really there, Severus realized. He had been involved from the beginning, just unwilling to acknowledge it until now. He ran his hands over Harry's back, feeling every vertebrae, touching every rib, horror running through him, and in a few minutes Harry had fallen asleep against him.

Severus gently laid Harry's form on the sofa, and grabbed some floo powder.

"Headmaster's office!" he whispered urgently and threw the power.