"I did not ask for your opinion Potter," Snape snapped.

"It just sort of slipped out," Harry said. "I've always wanted a bedroom."

"So you said before," Severus drawled. He'd been stuck with the annoyingly truthful brat for the last week and he'd had a headache ever since. He wanted to snap out that this was not his bedroom, that he was just stuck there temporarily, but Severus reminded himself that this very well could become the boy's bedroom for the foreseeable future if he couldn't find a cure for his incessant truth telling. The Headmaster had gone so far as to tell him that he would be homeschooling the boy if he couldn't find a remedy, until such a time as Voldemort was defeated.

"There is no need to unpack anything," Snape told Harry instead of screaming at him that this was all his fault.

Harry nodded and sat his bag down on the bed. "Yes sir. This is really all I have anyway." It was the truth. Severus knew it was because of the Veritaserum poisoning, but he still didn't want to believe it. At this point, if he said this was all he had, there was nothing Severus could say against it, even if he wanted to believe the boy had hordes of clothes, books and toys stored away in his trunk in Gryffindor tower.

"There are rules Potter," Severus said, eyeing the small bedroom again. He could have put the boy in the larger spare room in his house, but he didn't want to. He eyed every little nick and scuff and blemish and memorized them so he could chastise Potter for any new damage he caused later on. When his eyes came back around to the messy haired Gryffindor and he realized he was waiting to hear his rules, Severus cleared his throat. "You are to keep yourself well kept at all times. This means a clean body and well trimmed and brushed hair. You will keep the spare room tidy at all times. You will clean up after yourself in the bathroom and any other part of the house. Messes will not be tolerated. You will do as you're told, when you're told, and without argument. When I am in my lab working or in the library studying, you are to leave me alone. The sooner I can find a counter potion the sooner you and I will be able to return to Hogwarts."

"Yes sir," Harry said when it was clear his Professor was waiting for him to say something.

"Come to the kitchen for a haircut."

Snape swept out of the room and Harry jumped off the bed and followed. "Aunt Petunia cut off all my hair one time but it grew back overnight."

"Just because you must speak the truth when you speak, does not mean you have to speak Potter," Snape said, annoyed as he rummaged through a kitchen drawer looking for scissors. Harry thought it over though and decided that he did have to speak. Just having it in his head wasn't good enough. The poisoning made him feel compelled to tell it until it was heard. Harry had had to learn the hard way not to let his mind stray to certain topics or else he'd blurt out things about them now. It was almost like he had that muggle disease that made people say things whether they wanted to or not.

"Yes I do," Harry said. "It's your fault. The poisoning is making me say what comes to mind." He clamped a hand down over his mouth, eyes wide. He hated that he couldn't keep things to himself anymore. Snape spared a glare for him, the kind that he reserved only for him, and then turned back to the drawer, where he pulled out a pair of kitchen scissors.

"Sit on the stool Potter."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir. Please don't cut all my hair off. I don't want you to get mad when it all grows back. It's not my fault really, and I don't want a beating for it."

"I'm not going to beat you," Snape snapped. He wondered for a moment if he should have said that, as it took all his power away but the Headmaster had mentioned that the boy had been blurting out things about his home life and that they weren't pleasant. He was apparently already scared and didn't need to be anymore so to behave. At least, that's what Albus and Minerva had both told him. He didn't know exactly what Potter had revealed to them but he bet he'd told them he'd gotten a spanking and they had overreacted and read more into it than was really there. "Sit still."

Harry stilled and became stiff as a board. Severus wondered at how obedient he was being as he cut off an inch of hair here and two inches there until everything was neat and even. His mother had taught him to trim hair once when he was a boy and he had done almost a decent job of it. The boy at least looked presentable now. "Get up. Go look in the mirror if you must. The bathroom is the first door down the hall."

Harry hurried down the hallway and came back a few minutes later, looking relieved. "It looks good sir," he said. "I've never had a good haircut before. I try to cut it myself but I'm not good at making things even."

Severus narrowed his eyes. Why had the boy's family simply not taken him to a barber? That would have been the simplest thing to do instead of leaving it to the boy to take care of just because his accidental magic had grown his hair back after one bad haircut by his aunt. He decided he didn't want to know enough to ask and have the boy ramble on about it.

"Are there any Christmas decorations?" Harry clamped his hand down over his mouth again. Clearly he didn't enjoy revealing his own private thoughts. Severus sneered anyway.

"No, there are no decorations. This is my home Potter, not a school or hotel."

Hand still clamped down over his mouth, Harry nodded to acknowledge that he understood. He had a strange look on his face, but Severus ignored it.

"Go to the spare room and find something to read."

Harry let his hand fall. "I don't have anything to read."

"A schoolbook will suffice."

"I don't have any schoolbooks sir."

"Then it is your own fault for not packing any. I told you to bring everything you would need for two weeks from your dorm."

"I mean sir, I don't have any schoolbooks to pack. I never got to get any. I always borrow from Ron or the Library."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Why pray tell, did you not buy what was on your supply list for the year?"

"I wasn't allowed to go to Diagon Alley this year."

"Why not?"

Harry clamped his hand down over his mouth and tried to turn away. Brat, Severus thought. He was going to find a way to lie even when he couldn't keep the truth to himself.

"Do you have parchment and something to write with?"

Harry turned, hand still on his mouth, and nodded.

"Then write a letter to Madam Pince requesting reading material for two weeks, and use your owl to send it."

Harry nodded and then hurried from the room and down the hallway to the spare room. After the door was closed he could hear Harry speaking but couldn't hear what he was saying. He was probably saying all the things he'd kept himself from saying minutes earlier.

In the room, Harry was relieved to be able to say everything his mind wanted him to say. He tried to whisper it in case Snape was listening, even though his body seemed to want to shout the truth at the top of his lungs. He shook his hand out over and over trying to get the pain to subside from where he'd bitten down hard to keep himself from speaking. Pain seemed to be the only thing that could keep him silent for the few extra moments he needed to escape the situation. Luckily he hadn't drawn any blood this time.

Harry sat down at the desk and pulled out a Muggle pencil and parchment and began a letter to Madam Pince.

‘Professor Snape thinks I'm stupid for not having any reading material with me. He told me to ask you to send me something to read that will keep me busy for two weeks. Can you please send me some books about Quidditch and maybe a novel? Thank you.' He signed it with his name and used Hedwig to send it off. He only hoped she sent him something he would want to read, though he knew she probably would. Madam Pince was strict about her books and how the Library was used, but she knew what every student in school read and checked out. Harry had long suspected there was some kind of magic in place that kept records of books students had pulled off the shelves, probably just so she could know who was responsible for any damage done.

After Hedwig had left with the letter, Harry sat on the bed and fell backwards onto it to stare at the ceiling. What was he supposed to do until Hedwig got back?

Harry let his mind wander for a few minutes back over his last two weeks at school before Christmas break. After Snape had caught him in the dungeons after curfew and forced him to drink Veritaserum, things had gone south rather quickly. Harry couldn't remember all of it. He had fallen to the floor and nearly hit his head on the corridor wall and stayed conscious just long enough to see a surprised look on his Professor's face. After that he'd woken up in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey hovering over him and Ron sitting in a chair beside his bed. Ron wasn't able to believe at first that Harry was willing to spill all of their secrets in front of Pomfrey, Dumbledore, and even Snape. That was when Madam Pomfrey had broken the bad news that Harry was doomed to forever tell the truth. It was a rare side effect of being given Veritaserum when you're allergic to it. It didn't happen to all people who were allergic, but Harry was one of the unlucky few in the last several centuries.

At first they had let Harry go back to classes, but that had only lasted a few days. Once his classmates, (especially the Slytherins), had figured out that he must now tell the truth, they began asking him all sorts of embarrassing questions. Harry had been asked everything from which girl he liked best at school, to if he wore deodorant, to what exactly he thought of Draco Malfoy. Professor McGonagall had sequestered him back in the Hospital Wing after that, and then it was only a few days until Professor Dumbledore sentenced him to spend the rest of the term with Professor Snape in the dungeons. A substitute had taken over Snape's classes for the last week, and Harry had done his last week of schoolwork by himself. Ron and Hermione had been allowed to visit with him briefly once per day to bring him notes and school assignments, but the visits were short and Harry was left feeling all alone. The problem was, he was never alone as Snape was always somewhere nearby.

At first Snape had also asked Harry a variety of questions. They were usually questions about his past wrongdoings and intentions to do wrong in the future. In the first few days Snape had learned who had stolen ingredients from his stores to brew Polyjuice, whose idea it was to go after Quirrell in first year, how many times Harry had snuck out after hours in his entire time at school, and how many pranks Harry had played on the Slytherins, (thankfully the number was zero, which confused Snape for some reason, but Harry didn't care if he was confused, he only cared that he wasn't in trouble for something he didn't do).

At some point Harry must have dozed off, because he was startled awake some time later by Snape telling him off. "Napping is the best thing you could find to do?"

Harry sat bolt upright and tried to ignore the racing of his heart. "Sleeping's not allowed!" he said, voice panicked. "I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again, I swear."

Snape sneered. "I never said you were not allowed to sleep Potter." He shook his head and disappeared back into the hall. Harry listened for the sound of his receding footsteps and heard a door open and close a moment later. He let out a relieved breath. He hadn't said sleeping wasn't allowed, but the Dursleys had. Naps were strictly forbidden, even when he was being locked in his cupboard for punishment and had nothing to do. If someone opened his cupboard door and found him sleeping during the day, his time in the cupboard was extended by a day or two.

Rubbing his hand through his now short hair, Harry sighed. It was too difficult trying to live with Snape. The man was strict like the Dursleys but he had completely different rules and expectations. The week in the dungeons was difficult as it was, and then Harry had been staying in a guest room and had barely seen Snape except when the man came to draw some blood or give Harry a potion to see if it would cure him. Now he was living in the man's house for the holiday. Or at least Harry hoped it would only be for the holiday. For the first time, Harry suddenly wished he knew a lot about Potions. Then he could cure himself instead of being held hostage here by Snape.

* * *

Piles of books had been pulled out and organized in stacks on the desk in the library where Severus sat studying. Occasionally he muttered to himself and wrote an ingredient down or made a notation in the margins of one of his books. He had to figure out a solution to his problem, or else Potter would be his problem for the foreseeable future... perhaps even forever.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Severus closed the red book he was finished with and set it on the appropriate stack, and then picked up a book with gray binding. He startled when he heard Harry shout from somewhere upstairs, "I'm hungry!"

"Brat," he growled. Let him go hungry for all the trouble he had caused.

It was only a moment more before Harry shouted louder, "I'm really hungry!"

Severus stood abruptly and stomped out of the room and up the stairs. The guest bedroom door was closed, but he threw it open.

"Potter!"

Harry flattened himself against the opposite wall, hands clamped firmly over his mouth and eyes wide.

"Cease your incessant racket! I have never met such a rude person in my life. You are a guest in this house and you will act like one, not like a spoilt brat."

Harry clamped his eyes closed and nodded, hands still over his mouth. Severus left and went downstairs, but came back a few minutes later with a bag of crisps and an apple.

"Here Potter. Eat and be silent!" He stormed out of the room and Harry waited until he heard the library door slam closed downstairs before he pulled his hands away from his mouth. He was dismayed to find they were bleeding. He'd bitten them too hard to keep himself from shouting about his hunger, and from contradicting his Professor to say he was a prisoner here, not a guest.

Harry generally never told a soul when he was hungry, not even Ron or Hermione. No one had ever cared if he was hungry before or not, so he'd learned early on to keep it to himself. His stomach had been grumbling for hours though, and eventually he'd run out of things to think about and his mind had drifted to dinner. It was seven o'clock and the Professor hadn't come out of the library to fix anything yet. Harry had been told explicitly to leave Snape alone when he was in his library studying, so he'd spent his time in his room trying to think of anything but food.

With a sigh, Harry sat down and opened the bag of crisps. It wasn't dinner, but it was better than he usually got at the Dursleys, and he said as much out loud, trying to be as quiet as he could.

"Damn my hands hurt," Harry said to himself, thinking out loud. "MY- umna wumpf hurmf." Harry huffed in irritation as he covered his mouth to keep from shouting loudly about his hands hurting so the house's only other occupant could hear. His hands stung from the contact and he pulled them away to look at them. "This isn't gonna work," Harry said. Maybe he could bite a pillow or his arm or something else to keep from shouting.

When the apple was gone, Harry decided to get into his pajamas and go to bed. He hoped Hedwig would be back by the morning with something interesting to read.

"No nightmares, no nightmares," Harry pleaded with himself as he climbed into bed. He didn't want Snape to come upstairs angrily again if he was shouting in his sleep. Pulling the covers up over his head in an attempt to muffle any sounds he might make, Harry fell into an uneasy sleep, the stinging of his hands following him into his dreams.

* * *

Instead of waiting until he was so hungry he had to shout it at the top of his lungs, Harry made his way downstairs the next morning and into the kitchen. Was he allowed to get himself something to eat here? That sort of thing was never allowed at the Dursleys, but Harry found a clean bowl, spoon, and box of flavorless cereal sitting on the kitchen table and decided to take a chance. He'd rather risk getting yelled at for stealing Snape's food than biting his tender hands again. Giving his red and swollen fingers a look of disdain, Harry poured himself a bowl of cereal and ate it dry, not wanting to get into the man's fridge for milk, and then bolted back up the stairs and into his room. Hedwig was waiting for him when he got there.

"I'm so glad you're back girl," Harry said with relief. She was standing on top of two books and a Quidditch magazine from 1978. Harry thumbed through the magazine for a moment and then set it on the bed and looked at the other two books. They were both novels. One was about a Muggle who got to go on crazy adventures with a friend who happened to be a wizard, and the other was about two students at a French school called Beauxbatons who had to solve some sort of mystery. Harry opted to read through the Quidditch magazine first, but was dismayed when he was finished with it after only half an hour.

Making up his mind to write to Madam Pince right away again so he wouldn't have to sit in his room bored for another day, Harry pulled out his last piece of parchment and tore it in half. On one half he wrote a letter thanking Madam Pince and asking her to send more Quidditch Magazines. On the other half he wrote a note to Ron asking if he could borrow all of his Quidditch Magazines, and explained about having nothing to do and being stuck in his bedroom for the holiday. He sent both letters and the magazine off with Hedwig and told her to go to Hogwarts first. He hoped Ron would come through, because he knew Ron and his brothers had a huge stack of Quidditch magazines dating back at least ten years.

Near lunch, before Harry could start shouting about his hunger, Snape came upstairs and handed Harry a phial of silver liquid. "Drink this."

Harry did as he was told and then stared at Snape expectantly.

"Well?" Snape asked.

"I think you liquified your dirty old socks and are trying to poison me."

Snape glared and turned to leave. Obviously the antidote hadn't worked. "Lunch is on the table Potter," Snape said with disgust, and disappeared back downstairs.

Harry went downstairs and found a sandwich and an orange on the table with a glass of water.

"I'm so happy for lunch," Harry said to himself, picking up the sandwich. "This looks delicious." Harry didn't know Snape was in the next room eating his own lunch and listening to Harry go on about the food, which he did for at least another minute. From the way the child went on about the simple turkey sandwich, Severus would have thought the boy had been starved. He knew he'd eaten breakfast though because the cereal bowl he'd left out for him was gone when he'd come out of the Library to fix lunch. Not wanting to talk to Potter if he didn't have to, Severus waited until the boy went back upstairs before going back into the kitchen to do the dishes. He was surprised that Potter had washed his plate and cup, but didn't think overlong on it as he had other pressing things to mull over.

So far he'd tried every antidote that could possibly help Potter, and nothing had worked. Short of coming up with an entirely new antidote, Severus didn't know what to do. Veritaserum had a short half-life and in most people wore off in an hour, but in Potter for some reason, and in the few other documented cases of this ailment, it wasn't wearing off.

Rubbing his temple as he made himself a cup of coffee and then went back into the Library, Severus stared at the list of ingredients for Veritaserum. There were thirty two things on the list, most of them common, but a few rare. Perhaps Potter was having a reaction to one or more ingredients, but why? What if instead of coming up with an antidote, he gave Potter something to counter each ingredient on the list? That would be long and tedious and require more research, but he didn't have another plan. It was too bad he couldn't just fill the boy's stomach with bezoars. That had been his initial thought and he'd given it to the boy as soon as he'd keeled over in the Dungeon corridor after taking the Veritaserum.

With a sigh, Severus set to work writing down counter ingredients he already knew for those on the list. Then he rose and began putting his many stacks of books away, and began pulling new ones from the shelves.

* * *

Madam Pince had denied Harry's request for more magazines and told him to read the novels she'd sent him instead. Only when Harry had written a detailed summary of each novel, she said, would she send him more books. Having little else to do, Harry had begun the novel about the Muggle and wizard, and was five chapters in when Hedwig came back with a box from Ron tied in twine and spell-o-taped together.

"Excellent. I knew you'd come through," Harry said. He pulled the twine off the box and opened it eagerly. There were three Quidditch magazines, a letter from Ron, a letter from Ginny, a letter from Fred and George, and an assortment of other Magazines that had apparently been added into the box at the insistence of Ron's siblings. Harry was amused to find sticky notes attached to each Magazine indicating who had put it in the box and why. There was one from Percy called, "Hogwarts Prefects - Where Are They Now? Volume 27, with a note encouraging Harry to get into less trouble so he could become a Prefect like Percy, and perhaps someday Head Boy. Ginny had included a magazine Harry sometimes saw Seamus and Neville reading called, ‘Wiz Teen Today. Vol. 182.' He flipped through it and found an article about the Weird Sisters that caught his eye, and he read it before moving on to look at the other magazines that had been sent to him. "Inventors Monthly," Harry read the title of two of the magazines the twins had sent him. The magazine actually looked interesting, as it was about wizards who invented spells, potions, curses, and magical objects like brooms. The final magazine was about Dragons. It had been Charlie's, and Mrs. Weasley had thought Harry would find it interesting.

Harry spent half an hour reading through the letters the Weasley's had sent him, and had just moved on to one of the Inventor's Monthly magazines when Snape came back into his room.

"Eat this."

Harry frowned. "What is it?" It was green and slimy.

"Dessicated algae."

"That's disgusting. I'm going to throw up if I eat that and then I'm going to have to clean it up, and then you're going to yell at me, and then-" at the look Snape was giving him, Harry put his hands up over his mouth and muffled the rest. "It'll help?" Harry asked.

Snape didn't answer and instead only continued to hold out the small cup of algae. Harry took it, pulled a face, and swallowed it down whole, trying not to gag and failing. At least it stayed down though.

Snape's eyes roved over the magazines and parchment scattered over the bed. "You said all you owned was in the bag. Surely Madam Pince did not send you all magazines."

"The Weasley's sent them." Harry beamed. "I love the Weasleys."

Snape walked to the bed and picked up the magazine about Prefects. "You intend on becoming a Prefect?" he said skeptically.

"Percy sent that," Harry said. "I only asked for Quidditch Magazines but they sent me a lot of different things to read."

"You are making a nuisance of yourself to everyone Potter," Snape said, disgusted, dropping the Prefect magazine back on the bed. "You were told to write to Madam Pince, not every person you know."

"I'm not allowed?" Harry asked, wanting to be sure he was being given a rule.

Snape sneered at him. "Do not write to anybody else." Snape turned and left before he could see Harry's fallen face and hunched shoulders. Now Harry really was alone, he thought, and he felt every bit of it. It wasn't very fair, was it? And before Harry knew it, he was shouting and having to clamp his hand down over his mouth so Snape wouldn't stomp back into the room and shout at him again. By the time Harry was able to pull his hands away from his mouth several minutes later, his fingers were bleeding freely and were fairly bruised. Harry used the less injured of his two hands to get into his bag and pull out an old white shirt that had stains on it. With some difficulty he ripped it in half and wrapped each half around a hand to stop the bleeding. He supposed after the bleeding stopped he could wash the shirt off in the bathroom sink and let it dry and then use it again the next time. This was going to be one of his worst Christmases ever, he decided. "Worst Christmas ever," he said quietly to himself, and then he gingerly pulled the Inventor's magazine over to himself to read, hoping to take his mind off of everything that was wrong with his life.

* * *

Several days had passed since the Weasley's had sent him the magazines, and each of those days had brought Snape up to his room to feed him some disgusting ingredient or other. Anything from toad livers to dried dandelions. Harry had moved on to biting his arms to keep himself quiet and had put on his threadbare thin sweat jacket with a hole in the elbow to cover up the bitemarks. The sweat jacket also worked in his favor because he could pull his hands up into the sleeves to hide the increasingly worrying marks there.

Harry tried to read the novels Madam Pince sent to keep himself occupied, but as the days wore on, his hands hurt worse and he felt like he was getting sick. He was certain he had a fever and spent most of his time in bed covered in the plain brown blanket and sleeping. Snape hadn't been up to his room in almost two days and Harry hadn't heard anything from him other than when the man called him downstairs for meals. Harry supposed he must have been sleeping heavily and must not have heard Snape calling him for dinner one evening because he woke to find the man sneering down at him.

"Sleeping again Potter? Even your father was not so lazy."

Harry tried to push himself up to a sitting position, forgetting about his hands, and ended up hissing in pain. "Ow. I'm sorry, ow ow." He bit his lip to ensure his mouth stayed closed and tried not to look at Snape in case any tears escaped his eyes. Crying wasn't allowed, it had never been.

"What Potter?" Snape asked impatiently.

Harry shook his head and brought his sleeved arm up to his mouth so he could bite down on it, though he tried to find a spot that was not yet bruised or otherwise injured to do so.

Severus eyed the boy carefully. The Gryffindor was being careful not to meet his eyes, and was obviously trying to keep himself from talking by stuffing his arm in his mouth. Eyes roving over the boy as he sat there in bed, Severus noted that several of the fingers on the one hand he could see were darker than the others. At first he thought the fingers were stained with ink, but it didn't look like ink.

Without warning Snape's hand shot out and snatched Harry's arm, pulling it out of his mouth and away from him.

"Ow," Harry said, hissing in pain. "I'm sorry, ow." He bit his lip again in a vain attempt at keeping the truth from spilling out, but Snape was examining his bruised and injured fingers now and there was nothing for it.

"I'm sorry sir," Harry said in earnest, still trying to keep the tears back from the pain of having his hand turned over and examined. "I'm sorry, I swear, please don't hit me."

Snape dropped the hand as if he'd been scalded and stared at him. "What have you done to your hand?"

Harry went to cover his mouth again but Snape suddenly had both wrists held firmly before Harry could bring either hand up to his mouth to stop himself.

"Telling the truth isn't allowed. I have to bite something to stop from saying the truth."

"A pillow wouldn't have sufficed?" Snape spat, angry, though Harry thought the man sounded just as equally horrified.

"The pain makes me think of something else," Harry said, feeling it was more and more certain now that he'd be punished. "If you have to hit me please don't do it on my hands or arms sir," he pleaded.

"Brat," Snape said, disappearing back out the bedroom door. Harry let out a sigh of relief and let his head fall back to the wall. He couldn't believe he'd been left alone and wasn't going to get in trouble! But Harry's relief only lasted for a few moments, as Snape strode back into the room a minute later with several jars and a wet cloth. He brought a chair over to the side of Harry's bed and sat in it and began unscrewing the lids from the jars.

"Give me your hands," he said, and Harry held out his hands reluctantly, hoping whatever was in those jars wasn't meant for causing pain. "Is it going to hurt?" Harry asked.

"Your wounds are clearly infected. It is not possible to clean and disinfect the injuries without it hurting."

"You're not putting acid on my fingers then?" Harry asked. It seemed plausible to him, after having already been poisoned once that it could be on the man's agenda again.

Snape sent him a warning glare and then went to work washing Harry's hands gently with the wet rag. After that task was complete (with Harry yelping and saying ow every few seconds), Severus spread two different salves on his hands and open wounds. When he was done he told Harry to take his sweat jacket off and Harry did as he was told.

"I never said you weren't allowed to tell the truth Potter," Snape spat when he saw the bite marks on his arms. These didn't look as bad as the ones on Harry's hands, but Harry had only been biting his arms for a couple days now.

"You said just because I have to tell the truth doesn't mean I have to speak," Harry recited. "But I do have to speak. I can't help it. You were so mad when I shouted I was hungry. I didn't want to get hit so I started biting my hands to keep from yelling it anymore." Harry thought about it for a minute as Snape began cleaning the bite marks on his arms and then added, "Being hungry isn't allowed."

"You are allowed to be hungry Potter," he snapped, but Harry was shaking his head and biting his lip hard enough that Severus was sure he would draw blood there too trying to keep himself from speaking.

"Speak Potter. You cannot keep hurting yourself to stay silent."

"Being hungry isn't allowed," Harry said, eyes snapping up to Snape's fearfully, wondering what kind of punishment he'd receive for contradicting him.

"I just told you it was."

"But it's not," Harry insisted. "Uncle Vernon said so. I'm not allowed to ask for food or say I'm hungry."

Severus stopped cleaning Harry's arm and looked up at him. "You are not allowed to ask for food at home?"

Harry shook his head. "Being hungry's not allowed."

"And how often are you hungry at home?"

"Always," Harry said. It was the truth, and Severus knew it was. He went back to cleaning Harry's arm quietly and they stayed silent for almost two minutes.

"If you are hungry here you may go to the kitchen and fix yourself something to eat."

"From- from the fridge?" Harry asked.

"Where else Potter?" Snape huffed quietly, still trying to take in the information he'd just been told and wanting peace and quiet to think it over.

"When everyone's in bed or out of the house I take what they threw away."

Severus raised his eyes to look at Harry but didn't stop cleaning the dried blood from his bruised and damaged arm. "It's that bad?" he asked. "That you have to take from the rubbish bin?"

"If I'm good and get all my chores done I'm allowed to have whatever they don't eat at meals," Harry said. "But I'm still hungry after so when they're not looking I get whatever they threw away. I'm not allowed to get food from the fridge or cupboard." He started biting his lip again and Severus gave him a stern look.

"You are no longer to bite yourself or hurt yourself in any other way. Am I understood? That is not allowed."

"It's not fair sir," Harry said honestly. "Everybody else gets to keep their secrets to themselves but I'm not and you keep asking questions that make me have to tell."

Severus switched to cleaning dried blood off the other arm as he thought about it. He supposed it was unfair, and it may have been marginally unfair to take advantage of the situation and to ask Harry the myriad of questions he'd asked about his wrongdoings at Hogwarts. He was reminded forcefully once again in that moment that Harry wouldn't be in this situation if he hadn't dosed him with veritaserum in the first place.

"You're mad at me," Harry said, and Severus looked up. He must have been scowling.

"Not at the moment," Severus said. He was angry, but not so much at the boy as himself and at the Muggles the boy lived with. Who kept food from a child? Perhaps the same kind that didn't give him a bedroom of his own or take care of his hair. If he didn't have a bedroom, where did he sleep then? It would be unfair to ask he reminded himself, so he didn't.

After applying more healing salve and bruise balm to Harry's arms, he was finally done.

"The sweat jacket is ruined," Severus said. "I will not be able to remove the blood from the inside."

"It's the only coat I have," Harry said.

It wasn't a coat at all, Severus thought, looking at the threadbare thing in disgust. It wasn't even fit to be a rag and was so thin he doubted very much it kept the boy warm.

"Drink this," he said, handing Harry an antibiotic potion.

Harry did as he was told and didn't make comment about the taste, so Severus thought it must not have been disagreeable to him.

"Go back to sleep Potter. I will bring dinner to you in a while." Snape left and Harry frowned after he'd gone and shut the door.

"Weird," Harry said to himself. "That was so weird." And it was, because other than being scowled at several times, Harry hadn't gotten in trouble at all, and he was so certain he would have. "It's not fair," he said to himself again, still thinking that he'd have no secrets left at the end of this ordeal, that was if the ordeal ever did end.

He looked down at his hands and arms covered in salve. "Feels better," Harry said as he settled himself back down under the covers, and before he fell back into a doze, he said to himself, "Biting's not allowed. S'a rule now."