"You little freak! I'm going to beat the magic out of you if it's the last thing I do! I don't want a freak for a son! It's bad enough that your mother is!"

He felt blows on his rolled up form, and they were coming furiously. He began to choke back sobs. He was sorry for being magical. He really was. He wished his father could see that. How could he make his father understand? There had to be a way. There was always a way.

"I'm sorry," he managed to say, between the blows and the sobs.

"Then you'll stop all this 'accidental magic' and you'll stop hoping to go to that bloody school!" His father was on another of his drunken tirades, and Severus knew the only respite would be his father tiring out.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed again. His father landed a blow on the side of his head, and his skull cracked loudly against the floor as he fell the short remaining way to the floor.

.oO-Oo.

"Please, please, I'm sorry, please stop," he begged. "I'm sorry!"

"I've told you not to whine," his uncle hissed in his ear, and he closed his eyes tighter at the sound, swallowing hard. He knew he wasn't supposed to complain. It just came out of his mouth sometimes anyway. He let out a shuttering breath. He was sorry. He really was. Even if he couldn't quite remember what it was he had done this time.

His uncle continued to beat him. He felt a scream making its way up his throat. It was working its way out even though he tried to suppress it. It started as a moan, and then, an indistinct amount of time later, he cut loose with a full scream. Tears were streaming down his face.

"That'll be fifteen more for your bloody scream," his uncle snarled, and he let his head fall to his chest.

.oO-Oo.

Severus sat up in his bed and drew his wand instinctively. Realizing it was only a dream, and slowly relaxed and fell back into his pillows. He hadn't had a dream like that in months. Well, he hadn't dealt with an abused child in a few months. The abuse cases he dealt with always brought those dreams. Undoubtedly Harry's condition had brought those memories back. Every time he took on an abused child, it made him feel vulnerable. He wasn't quite sure why, but he knew he felt that way. Perhaps it was because he was afraid of making a mistake? One misplaced word, and a child could be lost forever.

He knew that Harry's life made his father look kind and compassionate. Much as he still hated what his father had done to him, he sent up a grateful thought that his father had been no worse than he was.

He looked over at his enchanted clock and it showed him that it was just past 6:30 in the morning. He doubted that after a dream like that, and knowing that Harry was just a room over, he would get back to sleep. He could survive on two or three hours of sleep for one night. It wasn't like he had to teach class today. He would just have to be very careful with his temper to make sure none of it showed in front of Harry.

Speaking of which, or thinking rather, Severus decided to go check on the boy. So he swung his feet out of bed and into a pair of slippers. He walked silently into the living room, where he looked over the back of the couch.

Harry was still there, which was a good thing. But Harry's sleep was restless. He thrashed around and began to whimper. Certainly a nightmare. Severus rounded the sofa and knelt down beside Harry.

"Harry!" he said, not daring to touch him. "Wake up!" But there was no response. At least not to him. Whatever horrors were happening in the nightmare, Harry let out a blood-curdling scream, and his eyes snapped open. The hair on the back of Severus' neck stood up, and he raised his hands in a sign of peace.

"I'm sorry to startle you," he said. "You were having a nightmare, and I tried to wake you up." Harry just sat up and looked at him with wide, scared eyes. His breathing was fast and shallow. Probably a combination of the nightmare and fear of himself, Severus thought.

"You can try to go back to sleep if you want," Severus offered. If he wasn't going back to sleep after a nightmare, then he surely wasn't going to make Harry. Harry just shook his head, griping the blanket till his fingers turned white.

"Then you can come into the kitchen for breakfast," Severus said, standing up. Harry jumped so fast from the sofa, he startled Severus. "Whoa, whoa," Severus said, so off guard that his usual eloquence was disturbed. He reached out to touch Harry's shoulder without thinking. Harry flinched back, but let the touch be. Of course he would, Severus mentally huffed, partially at Harry, but mostly at his own stupidity. As much as the boy probably - well no probably about it, did - hate being touched, he also knew better than to make it hard on someone who did.

"You can take your time," Severus said. "If you're concerned about fixing breakfast, you won't be doing that here." He could only imagine that Harry had to make the meals at the Dursleys. Harry just looked startled and scared.

"Come along," Severus said, for the moment ignoring the fact that Harry trailed some distance behind him.

.oO-Oo.

"You may sit down," Severus said, taking his own seat at the small table in his kitchen. He gestured to the seat across from him. Harry eyed him warily and sat down.

The man - Snape - had seen his nightmare. And he hadn't beaten him yet for it. When was he going to? Harry's stomach, although quite empty, still felt like he was going to lose something all over the kitchen floor. And then he told him - the freak - to sit down. At the table! With him! It had to be a trick of some sort. He remembered all the tricks his uncle had pulled on him. Letting him do something that he really wanted to do, only to smack him or worse when he did it, asking him if he was really so foolish that he would believe he would be allowed it. Maybe Snape liked playing those sort of tricks too. He felt like crying under the strain of it all.

But no blow came as he gingerly sat down on the edge of the chair, still watching Snape's hands carefully.

.oO-Oo.

Severus suspected that Harry might be fearing being hit at the moment. So he was careful to use slow and guarded movements, always letting Harry see his hands.

"I'll go get some food," Severus said, and got up slowly. "Please use the chair while I am away." It wouldn't do to have Harry sitting on the floor when he got back. He'd learned that much from the couch incident last night.

So Harry sat, rigid, in the chair until Severus came back. Severus concluded that having his house elf pop the food on the table, he would better get it from his elf personally. Such a display of magic would unsettle poor Harry to no end, and an acceptance of magic was not his first priority right now. No, he was doing to start working on the boy's eating habits, which were obviously less than acceptable. He knew this was going to be a particularly difficult battle, so he had better start it early.

His personal house elf left to him from the Prince estate, Nitty, was an old elf. Severus hadn't had the heart to keep Nitty as a slave to him. He'd freed her immediately upon the inheritance, but Nitty had been committed to him, and stayed on. He was happy to have the help, to not have to worry about meals or laundry, but he made sure that Nitty was also comfortable and got whatever she needed or even wanted. He might put on a cruel and indifferent mask, but he wasn't to be cruel to his elf just because he had to play the role of a spy.

Severus set bowls of hot rice cereal down in front of himself and Harry. Rice was easy to digest, and so he was going to feed Harry a lot of rice until he was sure that Harry's stomach would be up to more. He, Severus, wasn't going to eat any differently than Harry, even if he did hate the rice cereal. It was a small price to pay. If Harry needed something specific in his diet, then Harry would also see him eating it. He also brought some milk and glasses. Harry just looked from the cereal to his face, and then back to the cereal. He looked defeated, Severus couldn't help observing.

"Are you waiting for something?" he said, gently. Good! He hadn't snapped the question out like he normally would have. He wanted to find out as much as he could about Harry's background, even though he knew it would turn his stomach to hear it. He needed the information to know how to handle Harry. He saw Harry swallow nervously.

"I don't know what you want me to do," Harry said, and Severus knew that was probably the most truthful thing Harry had told him.

"I would like you to eat something, Harry. You're much too thin. Your relatives starved you, I'm sure, and I will not do the same. I will never, ever withhold food from you. And I will see to it that no one else does either. You will be able to eat as much as you like, whenever you like." Harry just sat there and blinked a bit, but otherwise there was no reaction.

"Are there any other problems?" Severus questioned again. He was still staying very calm, and honestly, he was quite pleased with how even his temper was.

"I should wait until you're finished," Harry blurted out, and pushed the bowl away slightly, getting up and stumbling, all at once. Harry felt hot tears coming to his eyes and wanted to turn away before the man saw them. He darted over to a corner in the kitchen and sat down, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his torso. He put his forehead on his knees and rocked slightly. Severus sighed.

Severus picked up both bowls of rice cereal, and sat down next to Harry.

"Here," he said, causing Harry to pick up his head. "I want you to take the bowl and eat the rice cereal in it. Is it alright if I eat mine with you down here?"

"No, sir," Harry said, quietly. "I - I just can't - " And then he stopped, looking up at Severus with pleading eyes.

"You can't what?" Severus prompted.

"I can't eat at the table," he whispered. "I'm not good enough for that. I know my place." Severus nodded.

"Then we will do it like we did last night. I will sit with you here, until you eat, or until you come to the table. I won't eat until you do. You need to eat, Harry. There's nothing left of you. I want you to eat."

"Can't," Harry muttered.

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't earned it yet," he said, putting his forehead back on his knees, feeling absolutely miserable. "Food is expensive, and I can't let anyone have to pay to keep me. I need to earn my keep."

"This food is free," Severus said. "Remember I said we were at a school? The school provides the food. And even if I bought it, I still want you to eat. You don't have to earn it."

"There's no such this as free." Those weren't Harry's words. Those were words that had been beaten into him over years. What eleven year old would question something that was free? If only they would question it when a man would tell them he had free candy for them if they only got in his car.

"Who told you that?" Severus asked, already knowing the answer.

"My uncle. He said that everything needs to be paid for somehow, even if it's not in money."

"But that doesn't mean that you have to pay for it. All you have to do is eat it." There was no reply for a few seconds. Then Harry let out a heart wrenching sob.

"When will you punish me?" he asked.

"For what?" Severus asked, truly confused. What did Harry think he'd done now?

"I woke you up with my nightmare," he said.

"No, you didn't," Severus contradicted and set the bowls of cereal aside. He reached over and brought Harry into his lap again, just like he had done last night. "I woke up because I had a nightmare." Harry stopped crying and went stiff. "Yes, I have nightmares too. My nightmares are terrible, but I'm sure they're not nearly as bad as yours. It can help to talk about them, Harry. Do you want to tell me about your dream?"

"No, sir," Harry said, decisively, and then he began to cry again. Oh, this boy. He was such a puzzle. He thought with the cold logic of an adult, and cried with the maturity of a toddler. He was such a contradiction sometimes. Severus ran circles over Harry's back, trying to sooth him. He remembered his mother doing just that for him when he was upset, and knew it helped immensely. Or perhaps he was doing it to calm himself. Slowly, Harry calmed down, and his sobs came father apart.

"Harry, I would like to hear about your dream," he said, still being very gentle. "Will you tell me?"

"It was nothing," Harry said. "I have those dreams every night."

"All the more reason why you need to talk about them," Severus said.

"Do you talk to someone about your nightmares?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes and searching Severus' face. Severus was taken aback by the cleverness of the question.

"No," he answered slowly. "But I will, if you will tell me about your dreams. I promise I will. You're very right, it probably would be good for me." He had never thought to talk to someone about his own nightmares. The clarity of this child's thoughts was startling. "Thank you." Perhaps he could finally break free of his nightmares, even if he hated the thought of telling anyone about his dreams. His dreams and what happened in them were very private. Blast it, this boy was turning his life upside down! Harry looked surprised at the thank you. "Now will you please tell me about your dream? I will see someone after breakfast about my own."

"It was just about my uncle," Harry whispered.

"What did your uncle do?"

"He beat me," and Harry's voice dropped to being almost non-audible. Silent tears began to roll down his cheeks.

"I see," Severus said, stroking Harry's head. "Did you know why?"

"No," Harry said. "Not in the dream. There must have been something though."

"Like what?"

"Anything. I do lots of bad things."

"What was the beating like?" He felt like a psychologist right now, asking these questions. He just needed Harry to acknowledge his dream. And talking about it was the fastest way to do that. Harry shuttered violently.

"The usual," Harry shrugged.

"If you want, you can show me your dream. I can go into your mind so that you can just show me. I promise I won't look at anything other than what you should me. You will feel my mind, but it won't hurt. I promise." Well, legillimens worked the same psychologically as talking did. He could understand how it might be hard for Harry to put it into words. "Will you let me?" There was a moment's hesitation, but Harry nodded. Severus couldn't help feeling that Harry nodded because he was afraid of punishment, and he was right. Severus brought Harry close to his chest and silently cast legillimens.

He was unprepared for the onslaught of emotions. Terror, despair, misery, fear, depression threatened to overwhelm him, but also, love. Somehow, Harry's ability to love had survived. And Severus knew this to be good. If Harry could still love, perhaps he could bring Harry around. The only problem was that in Harry's mind, anything he loved he had to push away. Harry believed that anything he loved, he needed to leave alone. So for Harry, love was a very negative part of his will. What had formed his understanding of love to be so negative? Surely, he had seen love, or at least a twisted version of it, because the Dursley boy surely had not been neglected. He would have understood if the boy had held hatred in his feelings which was showing. But there wasn't any hatred, except of self. But no, his love was negative, and Severus hoped that he would still be able to work with this.

Oh, Dumbledore and the Dursleys would pay! He felt his sorrow increase as he waded through the storm of emotions. Finally, they cleared enough that Severus could see Harry's dream, and if he had eaten breakfast already, he knew he would have vomited.

He had been right. His father had been a puppy compared to this. Severus caught his breath several times to keep his emotions under control. Harry's emotions were assaulting his mind with strength rarely seen. He was crying out for someone to love him, even if Harry himself didn't know it. Severus rested his head back against the wall, in his own silent agony, which he was careful to hide behind his occlemency shields. He knew this sort of beating. The Dark Lord had used something similar. Of course there had been magic involved then, but the principle was the same. How could anyone do this to a child? After finishing the dream, Severus retreated from Harry's mind.

"I'm sorry," Severus whispered, wrapping Harry close to him. What could he say? What could he say to a child who had suffered through that? There weren't words to express what he felt, and it was when hell froze over that Severus Snape didn't have words. The silent tears continued to roll down Harry's face.

"I need you to eat though," he said, pressing a bowl to Harry's hands, which accepted it. "Please eat." Harry began to move the spoon from the bowl to his mouth, but there was a glassy look in his eyes, a vacant look, and Severus knew that Harry was operating on impulse. The pain of showing him the dream had been so much that Harry had retreated within himself. Severus hoped he had made the right choice in encouraging the child to show him the dream. Nothing was going to be normal about this whole situation. Any experience he'd had previously with abuse, even his own, looked pitiful compared to this. Halfway through the bowl, Harry stopped, and almost seemed to wake up from whatever had happened to cause that expression. He flushed.

"Have you eaten all you can?" Severus asked. Harry nodded. "Very well. You should go back to sleep. You only had a couple hours sleep. I will give you something that will keep the dreams away," he added when he noticed the panic rise in Harry's eyes. He calmed down a bit.

After laying Harry out on the couch again, Severus gave him a dreamless sleep potion, which Harry drank readily. In a few minutes, he was sleeping peacefully. Severus laid out the blanket over him, tucking him in again. He gazed at Harry, his mind replaying the dream he had seen. It turned his stomach to think of it. He knew it would be burned into his memory for the rest of the day, tormenting him. Yet he would willingly suffer that and worse to help Harry, he knew.

He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. If only he had taken it upon himself to visit the Dursleys earlier! Why had it taken Minerva verbally pinning him in a corner for him to do it? He should have checked on Lily's child despite the unjust hate he felt for a dead man. He felt responsible for every bit of pain Harry had every experienced at the hands of the Dursleys, and that was quite a lot. A lot of pain, and a lot of responsibility. He swore he would make it up to the boy, not matter what. He owed it to Harry.

Severus closed his eyes, and tried to drive Harry's dream away. It was haunting his mind, and he was certain that he would have to talk to someone himself, if not because of the promise he'd made, but because of his own sanity.

.oO-Oo.

After having changed into clean robes, and eating the now cold rice cereal, (yes, he still ate it, even if Harry wasn't there to watch, just out of a sense of justice,) he walked to Minerva's office and knocked, awaiting her response. She opened the door to him, and after meeting her gaze, he looked at the floor, feeling like the little school boy he used to be, coming to her office with his problems like he had done so many years ago. And apparently Minerva saw the resemblance as well.

"Come in, Severus," she said gently.

"Thank you, Minerva," he replied, not in his usual gruff manner, but in the same voice he used when he had sought her help in years past. He stepped into her office, stood in the middle of the room, still finding the carpet very interesting, but in a dignified stance, all the same, with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Have a seat," Minerva said, motioning him to an armchair. "Would you like any tea?" Severus sat down, an unusual thing in itself.

"No, thank you," he said. "I need to speak with someone, and I do not trust Albus anymore with anymore more sensitive than my students' report cards." He tried to laugh a bit. "And I thought that perhaps you would be willing to listen, like you did a long time ago?" He looked up at her, as she came and sat across from him.

"Of course," she said. "It has to do with Harry."

"Only sort of," he said. "I promised him that I would speak to someone about my nightmares." Minerva looked like she was about to choke on something, and Severus smirked at her. Alright, he was going to enjoy this as much as he could.

"Alright?" Minerva replied after a moment of gathering herself.

"Harry had had a nightmare, and for some reason I mentioned that I had them too, and, stupidly, two sentences later said that talking about them was helpful, and the idiot brat turned that on me," he explained, answering Minerva's unasked question. She smiled, almost triumphantly, at him.

"And so you've come to fulfill your promise," she concluded. "I will keep everything you say under the confidentiality that I always kept conversations like this. What are your nightmares about?" She knew it would be easier for Severus if she gave him a place to start.

"My father," he said. "Every time I deal with an abuse case the dreams return. They are all memories of incidents with him. Honestly, they aren't that serious."

"Perhaps they are more telling than you are willing to admit," Minerva said, looking thoughtful and concerned. "You haven't had any closure with your abuse yet. Your father killed himself in a drunken haze, didn't he?" Severus nodded. "You never had a chance to speak to him about it. Whether in an angry rant when you were safe from his anger, or speak with him rationally. Something needs to happen to bring you that closure and then you won't have the nightmares that much anymore." Severus nodded. Minerva already knew too many details of what his abuse had entailed to need to ask detailed questions about the dream. She already knew.

"I don't know how I can ever have that closure," he said, equally thoughtful. "It's not like I can bring him back from the dead to talk to him. Not that I would if I could."

"Perhaps Harry will be that closure," she suggested. "You care about him deeply, and helping him may help you as well. The two of you can help each other."