Harry was woken not too long later when a woman approached his bed. He sat up quickly and shrank back from her, curling up by the headboard. The woman just bustled about his bed, ignoring his discomfiture, and brought out a retractable tray from the side of the bed. She placed a plate with a bowl of broth and some bread, then two small vials, onto the tray.

“You can’t fall asleep yet, Mr. Potter. You need to have some dinner first. And your potions. Go on. Potions first.” She gestured to the tray.

Harry watched her carefully as he scooted forward obediently. He picked up one of the vials and tried to pull out the stopper, but he found that he could not grip it well enough. His face reddened as he pulled at it furiously, ignoring the matron’s offers of help as he hunched over the vial. Angry and frustrated, he switched his grip and twisted furiously, causing the vial to crack and a thick white substance to flood down his front.

Startled and frightened of the matron’s response, Harry dropped the glass and scooted back to the headboard. Then he began looking around frantically for a towel, watching the matron warily and hoping that perhaps he could clean up the mess before she got too mad at him.

However, if he could have seen Madam Pomfrey’s expression clearly, he would have seen her face soften as she said, “That’s quite all right, Harry. These things happen. I’ll just get you cleaned up and fetch another.” With that, she waved a stick briskly at him and at the bedsheets, instantly drying them, then wordlessly summoned another vial of the white substance. She pulled out the stopper on this and the second vial herself and set them on the tray, then backed away slightly. “I’ll just watch you finish the potions, then leave you be,” she told him as she waved her stick at the two pieces of glass on the bed, vanishing them.

Harry nervously moved back towards the tray and quickly downed the first vial, grimacing at the taste. He looked uncertainly at the second one, then back at the matron.

“Yes, Mr. Potter, you must drink them both. They will not harm you, even if they do taste nasty. They will help you.”

For a moment, he considered just shaking his head and refusing, but he thought better of it after a moment’s thought. He was not yet sure of what the rules were in this place, or of the punishments. Hesitantly, he picked up the second vial and drank that down as well, trying to keep from pulling a face. The nurse nodded to him and then retreated to her office, leaving Harry to eat in peace. When she returned ten minutes later with a jar in hand, she found the food gone, the bowl looking to have been licked clean, and Harry beginning to curl back up under the covers.

“Oh no, Mr. Potter, not just yet. I still need to put this salve on your neck and ankle.” She approached the head of the bed, reaching out for him, but Harry shrank back, scooting towards the far side of the bed and pressing himself against the headboard.

The matron sighed. “Harry, this needs to be applied. Those are nasty sores that require healing, and we need to clear up the infection on your neck.”

Harry shook his head, his expression defiant even through his fear, and brought his left hand up to cover his neck. No. He’d already taken her yucky potions. Why did she have to touch his neck? It hurt enough already. He knew that when it felt like this, he needed to leave it alone, and just will the pain back out. He didn’t want her messing with it.

Giving up on convincing him by herself after a minute of coaxing, Madam Pomfrey muttered an incantation and something silver shot out of her wand and out of the hospital wing. Surprisingly quickly, hurried steps were audible in the hallway outside, and then the infirmary doors burst open and Severus Snape was striding up the aisle between beds.

xxXxx

Severus took in Harry’s position and the fear and stubbornness in his expression and immediately took the jar from the nurse, gesturing for her to leave. He approached Harry slowly and spoke softly.

“Harry, I am sorry, but this needs to be applied. It may sting a little, it may hurt some, but it will help you in the long run. I am sorry, but it needs to be done. Now, can you move a little closer to me, please?”

Harry shook his head again, but he looked a bit less defiant and more unsure now. Severus sighed.

“Harry, this needs to be done. Do you remember earlier, when I told you that you needed to follow Madam Pomfrey’s instructions very carefully and listen to her?”

He saw Harry’s brow furrow slightly at that, and he looked mildly confused, but after a moment he nodded.

“Listening to Madam Pomfrey is a very important part of getting well again. It may not make sense to you, but it will help you. Do you understand?” At Harry’s nod, he added, “Please move a little closer to me.”

Severus was gratified when Harry hesitantly uncurled and then scooted closer to him. He unscrewed the cap on the jar and scooped out some of the salve, then reached for Harry’s right ankle. Grasping it, he gently pulled it towards him and rolled up the cotton pant leg to mid-way on his calf. Then he carefully rubbed the salve into the angry-looking sores, making sure to apply it all the way around the ankle.

Finished, he looked up to see that Harry’s expression had morphed into one of confusion and wonderment. The boy drew his leg slightly closer to his face and examined his ankle briefly, then looked back up to Severus with wide green eyes.

“Yes, there is a bit of a pain reducer in that salve. Now for your neck. Can you move so you’re sitting on the edge of the bed please, so that I can reach?” Severus asked, gesturing.

With much less hesitation, the child obeyed, his eyes trained on Severus’ hands as the man scooped up more salve and began applying it to the sores around his neck. Once he was done, Harry blinked owlishly at him for a moment before pulling his legs back up onto the bed and crawling back under the covers, curling up once again by the head of the bed.

Severus smiled slightly. “Get some rest, Harry. You have had quite the day.”

xxXxx

Harry fell asleep quickly once Severus left, but he woke several times in the night, each time feeling fearful, exposed, and confused, and taking long moments to remember where he was. Each time it took him longer to fall back asleep in the unfamiliar surroundings, until finally he dragged a spare blanket from off the end of the bed he was sleeping on and walked to the bed at the far end of the infirmary. He perched on the edge for a minute, then crawled underneath the bed and lay down, curling up with the blanket.

He woke as the sun began filtering in through the high windows. He crawled back out from under the bed and looked around, seeing that the wing was empty. He folded the blanket back up carefully and put it back on his original bed, then started pacing in the area near it, glancing up at the door every once in a while and wondering if he was allowed to leave or if the door was locked.

A little while later, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office, and Harry stopped pacing and sat back on the bed. As the matron approached him, she said brightly, “Good morning, Harry dear. Would you like some breakfast?”

Hoping that it was not a trick (she had fed him before), Harry nodded eagerly, and soon was tucking into a small bowl of plain oatmeal. He tried to squeeze every morsel into his stomach, but eventually gave up, not wanting to throw the food back up. When he finally stopped eating, Madam Pomfrey handed him another two vials, already open this time, and he downed them without complaint and with only the barest hesitation.

As he was just handing the empty vials back to the matron, the door to the wing opened, and the man in black entered with another, slightly shorter man whom Harry had never seen before. Harry scooted back a bit farther on the bed, bringing his knees up to his chest.

The matron made to leave as the men neared his bed, but the man in black stopped her and whispered something to her. Harry watched them converse out of the corner of his eye, but his focus was on the stranger.

His attention shifted back to the man in black a minute later when he began speaking, the matron having now left. “Good morning, Harry. This is a friend of mine, Pierce Blackburn,” he waved a hand towards the stranger. “We were wondering if we could speak with you about some things today. But first, have you ever worn glasses, Harry, spectacles?”

Unsure of where this was going, Harry nodded hesitantly.

He thought he might have seen the man in black smile as he said, “Good. Well Madam Pomfrey has ordered you a new pair that you can wear for now, until you are able to go to a store to pick out your own frame.” He placed a small object that Harry had not noticed he was holding onto the tray that was still up from breakfast. Harry’s eyes flicked between the object and the man in black a couple of times before he reached forward and picked it up.

It was a pair of glasses. A pair of simple, black glasses. Almost trembling, Harry slipped them on, and nearly gasped as he looked around. Everything was so clear. He looked back at the man in black, an odd lump in his throat, and this time was certain that he was seeing the man smile.

“You like them, Harry?” the man asked, and Harry nodded eagerly, wishing for some way to express his gratitude.

“Good. Well, as I said earlier, my friend Pierce and I would like to speak to you for a little while today, and ask you a few questions.”

Harry looked back at the strange man, and this time he could see that the man had short, dirty blonde hair, a small nose, and a big, grinning mouth. He was a few inches shorter than the tall man in black, and his clothes (which, now that Harry thought about it, did not look very normal, and neither did any of the other clothes he had seen people wearing in this place) were a dark red.

He turned back to the man in black and heard him say “…us know if something makes you uncomfortable. Is that ok?”

Reflexively, Harry nodded, but he noticed that the new man was looking at him with a rather thoughtful expression. He looked back at him, feeling slightly uncomfortable under his scrutiny, and the man spoke.

“Harry, did you actually hear and understand everything that Severus said?”

Well, no, but I’m supposed to be paying attention and listening. I’ll get in trouble if I say I wasn’t, Harry began trembling as his mind churned, but I’ll also get in trouble if I lie, and the new man apparently already knows. Finally, after a long pause, Harry shook his head.

The new man smiled encouragingly at him. “It’s ok if you don’t understand something or your attention wanders, Harry. But I do want you to let us know if you miss something, ok? Because it might be very important for you to know.” The man thought for a minute, and then told him, “Maybe if you just frown really big,” he demonstrated, furrowing his brow comically and eliciting a small smile from Harry, “when you miss something, and then we’ll know. Is that ok?”

Harry nodded. He had been having a hard time following the man in black’s -- Severus, he had said? -- long speeches. This was almost like a code, just between them. And then he wouldn’t have to worry about how he wasn’t supposed to speak or gesture, other than nodding or shaking his head.

The two men seemed to be happy with his response, because they both smiled at him. Then Severus explained to him that Pierce was going to ask him some questions, and that he wanted him to answer as honestly as he could, but that if he felt uncomfortable he could just shake his head. He gestured to the notebook and pen that were still sitting on the little table, and Harry obediently picked them up and nervously opened to a new page. He saw Severus glancing at his drawings as he flipped past them, but the man did not say anything about them.

“Can you tell me, or show me, what your favorite thing to do is, Harry? I know that your throat is not healed enough yet to talk, but you can write it out, or draw it if you like, or even act it out. I have some toys you can use as props if you’d like, too.”

The new man’s hazel eyes were kind, and this eased a little bit of the tension that Harry felt. It seemed like a simple enough question, but he couldn’t think of what the answer should be. What did he like to do? Well, he liked talking to the snakes, but did that really count? Besides, it was probably kind of freakish. Eventually, he started drawing himself in the yard with footprints behind him to show that he was pacing.

The man smiled at him again. “Very good Harry. Are you walking in this?”

Harry nodded. He wasn’t sure he would exactly call it walking, but it was close enough.

“Good. Can you tell me what your favorite thing to eat is?”

Harry thought about this for a while. A favorite thing to eat? What did that even mean? Was he supposed to have a favorite food? Finally, he gave in and shook his head, too confused to come up with an answer.

“That’s just fine, Harry, you don’t have to answer every question,” Pierce reassured him. “I would very much like it if you could answer this question for me, though, ok? Can you show me where you live?”

Harry felt inexplicably nervous as he drew his answer to this question. The man -- Severus -- had already seen where he lived, and had taken him away, but for some reason he was afraid they would decide his relatives were right and that he was a freak, and maybe take him back.

When he finished, he got another smile and a ‘good job’ from the new man, and he relaxed a bit.

xxXxx

Severus was working very hard to keep his face neutral and encouraging as he watched Harry draw his responses to Pierce’s answers. He was impressed with the child’s resilience and with how quickly he had begun opening up and trusting these strangers to whom he had been brought, especially considering the state in which he had been found.

He watched as Harry drew where he lived. The child shakily traced a large house with what looked like the Dursleys sitting around a TV, with possibly sound blaring from it, and then drew a small corner of the yard hidden from view with a tiny doghouse in it. Severus noted that the garage with the cars inside was even much bigger than the picture of Harry’s corner of the yard.

After Pierce had told Harry that he did a good job, Severus told Harry, “I am very glad to see that you used your notebook yesterday. It was given to you for you to use as you like, so I am so happy to see that you used it.” He smiled encouragingly when Harry’s lips turned tentatively upward. “Would you mind showing me what you drew?”

Harry hesitated for a moment, and Severus considered telling him it was ok and he did not have to show him, but then Harry handed over the notebook. In the first few pages, Severus found messy drawings of what could only be Harry himself, drawn without a mouth, first tied up by the doghouse with his large aunt and uncle (who appeared to be shouting) on the other side of a fence, then apparently tied to a small bed with Severus himself standing largely between Harry and two other adults. Severus hoped that he was protecting Harry rather than threatening him. A third picture showed Harry, this time with a small mouth, tied up in his doghouse with a few snakes outside. Severus was not sure what to make of that picture, but he smiled at Harry and nodded, thanking him for showing him the pictures and praising him once again for using the notebook.

The child soaked up the praise like a flower in the sun, and Severus felt simultaneously glad to have so easily encouraged Harry and angry at his relatives for denying him so many things.

“Harry,” Severus began, hoping that he would not spook the child by broaching this subject, “how would you like to live with me, at least for now? I live here, in this castle, at Hogwarts. You cannot return to your relatives, we will not be letting them take you back, and I would like you to live with me, at least for the foreseeable future.” He felt slightly nervous as he said this, though he could not think why.

Harry’s eyes grew as round as saucers behind his glasses, and they flicked back and forth between Pierce and Severus a few times before resting back on Severus. Then his expression clouded somewhat and he looked back at his legs without responding.

Severus shared a look with Pierce. “It is ok, Harry. You do have options. I do not want to take away your choices. Do you understand why you cannot return to the Dursleys?”

Harry looked up and nodded vigorously, and Severus got the impression that he definitely did not want to return there. That was good. He had not really expected Harry to want to return there, given the level of neglect he had experienced, but it was all too common for abused children to feel a sense of loyalty to their abusers and not want to betray them by leaving, or to genuinely love their families despite the pain. At least Harry recognized that what the Dursleys had done was wrong, on some level.

“I want to give you a safe home, Harry. I want to help you feel safe and cared for. Are you willing to let me try?”

Harry’s expression turned almost wistful, and eventually he gave a small nod, then blushed, ducking his head.