Snape sat with his head in his hands, shaken. Perhaps this hadn’t been a good idea after all. He knew the treatment would hurt, but he hadn’t expected it to re-traumatize the boy. He hadn’t foreseen a flashback.

When Potter had started thrashing and screaming, and became unresponsive to Snape altogether, Snape had brushed the boy’s mind just the slightest bit, not wanting to intrude and cause more damage. He’d seen enough. He’d seen the big blond German bloke. Seen him grinding Harry’s hand into the flagstones. Witnessed the pain and agony that was playing out before him. And done the only thing he could think to do. He’d Stupefied Potter. It wasn’t an elegant solution, but he couldn’t safely use the sedative potion so soon after the last dose and it was the only thing he could think of.

Then, while the boy was out cold, he hurried to rub in the ointment into Potter’s hands and feet. Even knocked out, the boy still trembled, sweat glistened on his skin, and his breathing and pulse were rapid. A moan escaped every now and again—the body’s response to pain. Snape knew it would dull soon, and then disappear entirely. He had thought it would be worth it. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Hadn’t he promised the boy he wouldn’t harm him? And what had he just done if not that?

He wrapped the teen’s hands and feet in charmed bandages that would keep the magic of the healing ointment strong and active. Then he retrieved a warm cloth and wiped the sweat from the boy’s face and neck.

Once Potter’s breathing and pulse had returned to normal, and his face had relaxed, Snape waved his wand.

“Enervate.”

Green eyes opened and looked momentarily into his before darting around the room.  Then he refocused on Snape.

“Is it over?” Potter asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yes,” Snape said with a sigh. “Mr. Po– Harry. I owe you an apology. I misjudged…”

But Harry had lifted his bandaged hands to stare at them. “Wow,” he breathed. “They don’t hurt anymore. At all!” Harry wiggled his fingers.

Snape quickly grabbed Potter’s wrists. “Don’t,” he said. “You need to keep your hands and feet relaxed and still for the next twelve to eighteen hours. After that, they should be healed, but for now, you must rest and let the ointment do its work.” Gently, he laid Harry’s hands back atop the blanket.

“All right,” Harry said. “Thank you, sir.”

Snape frowned. “Do you remember what happened?”

Harry glanced away. “I…” He closed his eyes. “When you… the pain… it took me back there. To where they kept me.” Harry shivered. “I lost track of the present.”

“You had a flashback,” Snape said.

Harry nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Snape asked.

Harry shook his head. “No, not really, sir. I just want to forget it ever happened.”

Snape really looked at the boy. It was disturbing. Having been starved, and with his head having been shaved, he looked like a prisoner of war. Sighing, Snape said, “I know you do, but that really isn’t wise. Things like this, if left untreated, they tend to… fester.” Oh Merlin, if he didn’t sound like Dumbledore. Dumbledore, trying to get him to talk about the Death Eater meetings. Trying to get him to confess his sins in an effort to make him feel better—or so Dumbledore had claimed.

“Part of recovery is talking about what happened. Acknowledging it. Embracing it and then letting it go,” Snape said. Such pretty words, Snape thought derisively. Dumbledore’s words, in fact. And who the hell was Snape to be speaking them? He’d done no such thing. But then, look how he’d turned out. Death Eater, double agent, bitter and full of regrets.

Harry was staring off into the distance again, and Snape began to have some respect for Dumbledore, albeit grudgingly. Snape didn’t much like being on this side of the table, trying to save the sanity of the Boy Who Lived, and having as much luck as Dumbledore had with Snape himself.

Finally, Snape pushed to his feet.

“Rest, Harry. I have a couple of things to brew for you, as there wasn’t time to bring all of the potions that I needed. Is there anything you require before I leave you?”

Snape saw the fear in the teen’s eyes. He hesitated, then sat back down.

“I’ll be just down the hall, Harry. I am not leaving the safe house. More importantly, I am not leaving you.”

Harry swallowed a couple of times. In a timid voice, he asked, “What if I need… something?”

Snape paused, thinking. Then he went to his bed, picked up the book he’d finished reading before bed last night, and charmed it. He returned and laid it under Harry’s bandaged hand.

“If you need me, simply tap this lightly three times and I will be alerted.”

Snape knew he’d done the right thing when relief skittered across the boy’s face.

“It doesn’t have to be an emergency, either,” Snape added. “The potions I need to brew are not delicate. It is easy enough to pause them at any point. If you feel anxious or need to talk, or simply do not wish to be alone, do not hesitate to request my presence. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, is there anything you require before I begin brewing?” Snape inquired.

The boy was fidgeting. Clearly something was on his mind but he didn’t want to say it.

“I cannot help you if you do not tell me what you need,” Snape said.

Harry glanced toward the window. “It’s getting dark out. I’m not usually afraid of the dark, but after…”

Snape took pity on the boy and quickly conjured a glowing orange orb. He set it to hang in the corner above the boy’s bed. He also lit a couple of the candles in the room. “Will that be sufficient?”

“Yes, perfect, sir, thanks.”

Snape nodded. “I will return in an hour with dinner.”

Dinner was much the same as lunch—broth, bread, pumpkin juice, and a nutrient potion. Harry ate what he could and drank the potions Snape gave him without complaint.

“Right now, the most important thing is for you to heal,” Snape said.

Snape was staring at him as if he expected an answer, so Harry nodded.

“As I have already told you, I will give you choices and allow you to be as independent as possible given the situation. Thus, to ensure that you are healing properly, I will either need to examine you thoroughly…”

Harry shivered at the implication of Snape’s words.

“Or you must give me your word that you will answer my questions honestly and will alert me immediately if you are in pain or any new issues develop. Which will it be?”

“I will be honest and let you know if anything is bothering me,” Harry quickly said.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “I have your word?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied, feeling he’d just dodged a bullet. He knew Snape meant well, but the thought of Snape, of anyone, touching him, examining him, especially there, made him break out in a cold sweat.

“Very well,” Snape said. “Is anything paining you right now?"

Harry considered this. “I have a slight headache, and…” Harry swallowed. “My, er, bum aches a bit.”

Snape nodded, sorted through the potions on the bedside table, and helped Harry to down two of them. “That should help with the pain. As far as I can tell, you are healing well. There are a few things you need to watch for, and if they occur, you need to let me know immediately. Your word, Harry?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry repeated.

“This is the time when infection may set in, and that can be very dangerous. Thus, if you experience chills or fever, we must increase or vary your antibiotic potion. In addition, if you have any discharge of any sort from your... bum… be it bloody, clear, white, yellow, green, or any other color, or if you notice an increase in pain or pressure, you need to let me know instantly.”

Snape gazed at Harry intently and Harry wanted to look away.

“This is important, Harry. I know it is embarrassing, but you must tell me if you notice any of these things, or if anything feels different in any way.”

Harry nodded. He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t think of a way to do it.

“I can see you have a question,” Snape prompted.

“Er, what about when I have to… go to the toilet,” Harry asked, blushing.

“I have been giving you a stool softening potion along with your antibiotic potion, so you shouldn’t have any problems there. But if you do, you need only let me know.”

Merlin this was humiliating, Harry thought. The last thing he wanted to do was discuss his bodily functions with Snape, of all people! Snape, who didn’t look the least bit fazed by discussing any of this. Well, that did help a little.

“Anything else?” Snape asked.

“No, sir,” Harry said.

Snape pulled out a vial from inside his robes and uncapped the violet liquid. “Dreamless Sleep,” he said. “You need your rest to heal.”

Harry took it without complaint, thankful to have one less thing to worry about.

Potter slept fourteen hours and, for that, Snape was grateful. He needed to get the boy up and moving and on a schedule, but that couldn’t happen until the boy could get around on his own. The last thing he needed was the boy falling into a deep depression. Their resources were limited and Snape could only do so much. He was no therapist, after all, and if Potter spiralled downhill, they’d be in a world of trouble. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that it was only their second day at the safe house. One step at a time.

“Any complaints at the moment?” Snape asked. He’d seen Potter to the loo and through lunch.

“Nothing in particular,” Potter said.

At Snape’s raised eyebrow, Harry added, “Just some general discomfort, but nothing new or worse.”

“Are you ready to see how your hands are doing?”

“Yes, please,” Harry said, holding out a bandaged hand to Snape.

Snape unwrapped the proffered hand. “I am going to check your mobility. You should not feel any pain. Please let me know if you do.”

Carefully, Snape moved each finger through its range of motion, then the thumb, then the hand as a whole.

“Clench your fist.” Harry did so. “Does that hurt?”

“No, not at all,” Harry said in awe.

“Good. Let’s have a look at your other hand.”

By the time Snape had unwrapped and checked both hands and feet, Harry was looking distinctly more cheerful.

“So, I can use my hands now? And walk?”

“One step at a time,” Snape said. “First, you can use your hands, but sparingly. You may use utensils and brush your teeth, but no writing just yet and, when you aren’t using them, let them rest.”

“Can I use my wand?”

“You can, and I will teach you some spells to make life easier for you until you are completely healed.” Snape removed Harry’s wand from the drawer and laid it by the teen’s side.

“As for walking, that is another matter.”

Harry’s face fell.

“You shouldn’t be putting your full weight on your feet just yet. I will teach you how to cast a Featherlight Charm on yourself so that you can make short trips—to the water closet, for instance. Each day we will decrease the charm and increase the weight on your feet. I must warn you that it will be a slow process.”

“Great,” Harry said sarcastically. “I hate being in bed all the time. Anything else?”

“You still need to rest. I know it is not what you wish for, but soon you will be well enough to move around the house as you please. In the meantime, I ask that you refrain from leaving the bed any more than you absolutely need to.”

Harry sighed.

“Was there something in particular you wanted to do?” Snape asked.

“I’d really like a shower,” Harry muttered.

“Showers are out of the question for now, but a bath would be acceptable.”

“Like last time?” Harry asked, not meeting Snape’s eyes.

“Let me teach you some charms and then you won’t need my help, with one exception. You are not, under any circumstances, to get out of the tub by yourself.”

“How come?”

“While you can Featherlight yourself to the bathroom and into the tub before filling it, getting out of the tub would require you to put much too strain on your hands and feet. Therefore, I will need to lift you out. Beyond that, you should be able to manage everything else by yourself. Is that acceptable?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.

“Very well. Pick up your wand.”

Snape proceeded to teach Harry the Featherlight Charm incantation and wand motion until Harry was able to use it. It took a little bit for Harry to feel steady and balanced on his feet, but once he got the hang of it, Snape felt reasonably sure he wouldn’t topple over anytime soon.

Once in the bathroom, Snape informed him of dressing and undressing charms that would relieve him from having to use his hands. To save themselves both embarrassment, they didn’t practice them.

“Ready to get in the tub?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “I just need a towel and… Oh! I forgot clean clothes.”

“Wait here, I will get some for you.” Snape exited the bathroom and rummaged through Potter’s trunk. He selected a comfortable set of pajamas that he had secured for the boy over the previous summer.

He returned to find Potter, naked from the waist up, standing rigid, eyes wide, jaw clenched, gazing into the mirror.

“Harry?”

As Snape watched, the boy’s eyes seemed to grow even wider, his pupils dilating in fear. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out on the boy’s skin and his breathing was coming in short, quick gasps.

“Harry!” Snape shouted. He had a feeling the boy was caught in a flashback. He didn’t want to touch him for fear it would make things worse. “Harry, listen to me. You are in a safe house with me, Professor Snape. You are safe here.”

Harry started to tremble. His eyes never left his own reflection.

“Harry,” Snape said again, trying to get the boy’s attention. “No one can hurt you here. You are safe.”

In the next instant, the boy let out a bloodcurdling scream and started clawing at his scalp.