Severus was... not sure how he felt about the current situation. As soon as he had told the boy his story he was seized with a deep feeling of regret.
He didnt know this child. He had just spilt a good deal of his life story, and a particularly sensitive bit at that, to a child that he didnt know.
Plus. He had now offered something that he could not easily take back. He, the cold hearted bastard of the dungeons, was now emotionally INVESTED in the child he had been so determined to hate.
So he was a bit uneasy with the position his decision to tell the story had put him in. And very, conflicted.
But, he acknowledged, it so far, had caused less problems than it had started to solve.
The story had led to the boy trusting him enough to agree to come down to his quarters. The boy had trailed behind him as they made the fairly short walk down towards the dungeons.
But even though Severus was walking ahead of Harry, it did not prevent him from noticing several peculiar things about how he carried himself.
His movements just seemed awkward. Like a bunch of individual movements, fighting for dominance, having to share a very limited space- so creating this appearance of- instead of rythmic movement... just a complete and utter mess.
For the most part, the boy kept his head down. He was nodding it actually if one looked closely. Occasionally he would look around, a complete look of panic on his face, only for his face to slacken and return back to drooping.
The way he walked was also very off. Slowly- laboriously, for a few steps, then very quickly- larger steps- back to slower, shorter ones- irregular- clumsy seeming. Disjointed.
Very very confusing.
And. The boy wasnt being quiet. He had hardly spoken a word in the time Severus had known him, but now- it was as if he was finding it hard to keep away from any thought that came to the boys head. And even more particular was that it seemed as if the boy was trying to say quite a lot, but because it was all coming out so quickly- and because like his movements it was all fighting for dominance- none of what he was saying made much sense at all.
Only bits and pieces, swallowing each other before they had fully formed.
He was saying everything, but to the ordinary observer, to a person who didnt care enough to attempt to think differently, he might as well have been saying nothing.
Severus, of course, was not a person to take things lightly. He listened. He had been a spy so long that he knew how to really pay attention, and to do so inconspicuously. His senses had sharpened to the point where he hardly needed to strain to hear what the boy was saying.
"To trust. Trust the man with the black on him. Black like death. Where is the death coming from. The magic castle its watching me. Yesterday it knew. I know. They dont know. The black cats are coming to take me away. I see them when they look at me. The walls are so big they are monsters they are closing in and the cats and the wizards they want to get me. But I have nothing to give them! Leave me alone! Stop! Stop! Stop! They are going to steal me in the night! That doesnt make sense! But I know! I know the truth! They want me because they know Im special. They know Im a monster too. Monster. Monster. Moooooonster."
And that was the most lucid seeming part that Severus had caught. The others. It was hard to pull together any major theme at all.
But one thing that kept filtering in was that the boy kept saying that "He needed to talk to the black cat monster man".
Severus had definitely been called worse, he figured, as he choked down an amused smile.
This was not funny. How just unfunny and just how serious this was getting was becoming more apparent by the second.
He was just chattering. And chattering. Non stop. And it was obvious to Severus it was controlling the child more than the child was controlling it.
It was sad. There was something seriously wrong with the child. He didnt know what yet. But he felt he would need to figure it out fairly quickly.
Eventually they made their way into Severus's quarters. It was when Severus entered his familiar quarters with their familiar smells that he once again noticed that Harry was absolutely filthy.
He wasnt sure whether to take care of this problem right now or to wait until the bot was in a more... coherent state. But, he eventually figured, a shower probably would not be too much to ask. Plus, he couldnt afford to be too afraid of pushing the child. And this was hardly a push, he felt, for anyone.
He asked the boy, softly, clearly, if he would take off his clothes for a shower.
The boy. Well. His chatter became even faster, how that was possible Severus did not know, and became inundated with spurts along the lines of "Hes going to steal me" and "Hes going to take me away from me".
Severus almost backed down from this. Almost. But he figured that if the boy couldnt make the choice for himself, someone would need to help him. Whatever basic tasks the child seemed incapable of doing were near the top of the list priority wise- and this definitely qualified as one of them. Start at the beginning. Start at the basics.
So Severus went over to Harry. He grabbed him securely by the arms. Making sure that the child felt the pressure there, was able to get oriented towards it, before telling him that he was going to help him take his shirt off.
The boy started screaming. Screaming as if he were being tortured.
But Severus had hardened himself to the task. With one quick snatch the childs shirt was removed.
And Severus was horrified.
Cuts. Scabs. Bruises. Scratches. Sores. And so many scars.
He was enraged. He could feel his blood pressure rising. He could hear the child next to him hyperventilating. And he could see him. He couldnt help but see him, and see him, and see him. He couldnt help but think of how every wound on that childs body told its own story of pain. There were so many injuries, the boys body told endless tales of abuse. And Severus could tell that a lot of the abuse, the scars, a person doesnt get that many scars from someone else. Those stories, those stories of pain, those announcements of pain, had come straight from the child.
It was too much. And worse, no one had prepared him for this. The headmaster had not even mentioned it. He didnt understand how this could have been overlooked. The child didnt deserve it. For this amount of injuries to have occured, the child had obviously already been overlooked too much already.
So. Severus grabbed some powder and flooed straight over to the hospital wing.
For what he figured would not be a pleasant discussion.
—-
Out of no where Snape popped into her office.
It was very rude in her opinion, but she supposed that with Snape, she should be used to that by now.
She was not particularly fond of the man. Albus and Minerva and even Hagrid would occasionalpy try to convince her of his merits, but in her mind, they just did not- even if they did exist to the degree they were being sold to her, which she doubted- they did not make up for all of his flaws.
They did not make up for all the pain he had caused. She was a medi-witch, she understood pain, and over the years, the more she saw, the more she hated anyone who chose to cause it.
And Snape, maybe he didnt actively 'choose' to participate in some of the more vile death eater activities, he had, at one time, enjoyed it.
And to this day, he chose to be unpleasant. He chose to inflict low key suffering on almost all of those around him.
And that was more than enough for Poppy to hate him.
And it was more than enough to cause her to be furious when that man, that vile cruel man, came in to demand why Harry's pain had not been dealt with.
Because she didn't trust him not to add to it. Because she wanted to know what it WAS before speaking to him, the headmaster, or anyone about it. Because he had basically dragged the child out of there still in dirty underclothes.
Because she couldnt let the boy be hurt worse.
But it was odd. Snape actually sounded concerned. Sure, there was charged anger in his voice, but it also carried a wavering softer quality. One that he was attempting to hold back. A bit of genuine fear.
And this is what made Poppy stop. She couldnt say that she looked at the man and saw his dark stained robes turn angelic white in front of her, but for a second, the glimmer of recognition that, this was a man with facets of his being she was unaware of, came to the front of her mind.
He was more than she could know, and she was treating him, in her mind, as if he was less.
Because it was easier. To put him in a box. Deep down she knew this. If she could categorize him as 'someone evil' instead of 'someone who had done evil things', she would have a target for her hatred. She wouldnt have to be mad at the universe that horrible things happened in the world, she could instead be mad at Severus.
And, though she had glimpses of this realization occasionally, this time- was different.
Because here he was in front of her, and she had to make a choice. There were no hypotheticals. It was, trust that there is some good in him, or dont and shut the door on him forever. Because now that she was aware of why she hated him, she knew she would never get the energy behind the power of this realization again. She would never be able to set aside her pride, her fears, there would not be a strong enough push.
But, as this was not a hypothetical situation, she also had to deal with the practical realities involved. If she told him, and found out that he really couldnt be trusted, he could hurt that already severely pained child.
She was conflicted. There was so much at stake in either direction.
But someone needed to help that boy. And she knew in her heart that the small, yet insistent note in Snapes voice... was real.
So. She wouldnt close the door on him. Not yet.
She would answer his questions. She would inform the headmaster of the situation, and then... well the headmaster would take that into account she knew, she would make sure he knew to watch the pair, and then- she would back off and observe.
Nothing more was going to hurt that child if she could help it.
And if it meant consorting with the enemy, well, she didnt have to like it, but- her enemy or not- Harry needed as many friends as he could get-
And she wasnt going to turn down any offers.
Not when the state of the boy made it obvious that he had been denied too many offers already.
Chapter 10