“Mr. Potter, stay behind.”
And there he went again. Harry had to stifle a groan. He had held his tongue for the most part, but this was getting ridiculous.
It was Monday morning, and Harry was definitely not in a good mood. He was exhausted, as was the new usual. Even with sleeping all through the night with the assistance of the potion, he felt as though he wasn’t sleeping at all.
His classmates had noticed long ago that Snape had taken up a new interest in Harry that did not involve ridicule and God, was it embarrassing… Did the man lose his sense of decorum?
Granted, he had never shown much respect for Harry’s privacy but now Harry’s private life was mingling with Snape’s, (loathe as he was to admit it) and so it begged to question, did Snape no longer value his own privacy?
The students had all left, Ron and Hermione didn’t even attempt to stay behind with him any longer as this was becoming a routine.
“What now?” Harry asked briskly, feeling irritated from lack of sleep or perhaps too much of it potion induced and failing at hiding it. “How was my day? My potion work was fantastic? What do you want?”
“You have not been eating,” Snape stated blandly.
“Oh,” Harry said just as blandly.
“Yes.”
“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business.”
Snape just stared at him incredulously.
Harry shifted his stance awkwardly. “I have been eating.”
“Not enough to keep a bird alive. I did not brew those nutritional potions just for the heck of it, you know.”
Harry bowed his head, feeling a mixture of hurt and shame. Hurt, because it sounded as though Snape really hadn’t wanted to deal with brewing the potions for him, and shame, because Harry hadn’t exactly been taking the potions as of late. The only potion he felt he really needed to take was the Dreamless Sleep. Even if he still felt exhausted, at least he wasn’t dreaming...
Snape sighed. “You are still recovering from… well, twelve years of starvation, frankly. You can not just eat when you please, you simply must maintain a proper diet.”
“How do you even know if I’m eating?” Harry challenged. “I don’t see you in the Great Hall very often-”
Snape’s lips twitched, just a bit. “Keeping tabs on me now, are you, Harry?”
Harry scowled. And there he went again with the Harry bullshit. “Stop calling me that,” he muttered.
“Calling you Harry?”
“Yes.”
“Oh? I apologize, I was under the impression that it is your name but perhaps I was mistaken,” Snape deadpanned.
“It is, but you’re not allowed to call me that,” Harry bristled.
“I am not allowed to call you by your name?” Snape questioned, black orbs seeming to grow a bit darker. Still, Harry was feeling irritable and didn’t back down.
“No! You’re Snape and I’m Potter, we hate each other and you shouldn’t be asking me how I am and keeping an eye on me, it is none of your business!”
“On the contrary, it is my business, and I have never hated y-”
“Bull-fucking-shit,” burst out Harry.
“Language,” Snape snapped, eyes definitely darkening now.
Harry clamped his mouth shut, knowing he had gone too far and starting to worry about what Snape would do about it. There was silence for a long moment before Snape sighed, loudly.
“I am not going to force you to be my son,” Snape started quietly. “But Harry… I am your father. I am your father and I am concerned for you. I can not just sit back and watch you destroy yourself. You are not eating…”
“I just haven’t had much of an appetite lately, sir,” Harry admitted quietly.
Snape stood from his chair and came around the desk. Harry flinched a little instinctively, and Snape sighed as he simply lowered himself to sit on the desk at eye level with Harry who flushed brightly. “Sorry,” he whispered.
“No need to apologize…” Snape muttered, slowly reaching out a hand and lifting Harry’s chin up to meet his eyes. Harry attempted to lower his head back down but the hand stayed in place, a firm but gentle hold. “For that, anyway. As for your language…” Snape smirked a little before saying, “apology accepted.”
Harry really hadn’t been apologizing for that but it was all the same. He averted his eyes, unwilling to look into Snape’s.
“Harry, look at me,” Snape coaxed softly. “Please.”
Harry forced himself to look away from the potion vials he had been staring at and back up at Snape.
“Harry,” Snape said again, but Harry found he didn’t actually mind Snape’s use of his first name as much as he had expressed. “I know that you are facing a lot of… difficulties right now. But neglecting your health will not make you feel better. It will only make you feel worse.”
“I know,” Harry said, unable to let go of his vexation completely. “I’m aware of that, really. But it’s… every time I even think about eating, I feel sick. I’m not hungry, anyway.”
“Then I shall prescribe you an appetite booster,” Snape declared, letting go of Harry’s chin and going over to the potion vials Harry had been staring at a moment ago. He returned with a particularly disgusting looking vial.
Harry’s abhorrence must have shown on his face, for Snape chuckled. “It does not taste as bad as it looks, I promise. But Harry,” he said, handing the potion to Harry who accepted it quite reluctantly, “potions can not fix everything.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that, Mr. Potions Master,” Harry muttered. Snape chuckled again. Really, would wonders never cease?
No matter, for Snape soon turned serious again. “A Potions Master and healer, who knows better than to drug up his patients. Many potions are addictive and unsuitable for long-term use.”
“So if not get high off potions,” Harry said, rolling his eyes, though his conscience seemed to be nibbling at his stomach again, “what do you suppose I do?”
“Talk to someone,” Snape said simply.
Harry scoffed. “Now you sound like Madam Pomfrey.”
“Well, we are both healers,” said Snape. “When did Madam Pomfrey say this to you?”
“Oh, uh,” Harry started, realizing he had talked his way into a trap, “I just went to see her about something.”
“Were you injured?” Snape asked sharply. Harry shook his head quickly.
“No, I just needed to, well, talk to her about something.” Harry’s face had turned red once again as he struggled to cover up the real reason behind his visit, and Snape seemed to take this as embarrassment.
“Ah, the obligatory talk then, hm?”
“God, no!” Harry exclaimed, horrified. “Why does everyone seem to think I need that talk?”
Snape’s eyes shone with amusement. “Well, you are growing into a young man, Harry. I would of course be happy to discuss the quaffles and the hoops with you, you need not journey to the hospital wing for answers to your questions.”
“I’m glad that you find humor in my pain!” Harry snapped.
Snape’s eyes quickly lost their hilarity. “I most certainly do not… I apologize for adding to your… discomfort. Sometimes it is easy to forget how self-conscious the young can be about the facts of life.”
Harry looked away, shamefaced. This had quickly become possibly the most embarrassing conversation of his life, and he thought that the conversation with Madam Pomfrey a few days ago would remain at the top of that list for quite a while.
“Returning to the topic... Madam Pomfrey is correct, talking things out with someone you trust can be essential to recovery.”
“Recovery from what?” Harry asked, feeling exasperated. “You keep talking as though I’m something broken in need of fixing, when I’m perfectly fine!”
Snape shook his head. “You are not broken, but I would wager that you are far from perfectly fine. There is no shame in it, just as there is no shame in asking for help.”
“But I don’t need help,” Harry argued.
Snape sighed, rubbing his temples. “Everyone needs help sometimes, Harry.”
“Not everyone,” Harry said firmly. “I’ve done fine without it so far.”
“You can not possibly-”
“Can I go now?” Harry interrupted, going over to the workbench he had been working at earlier with Ron. He grabbed his bookbag and shoved it over his shoulder.
“Can we have one conversation that does not end in upset?” asked Snape.
“I,” Harry hesitated at the classroom door before looking back at Snape. “I don’t know,” he quietly confessed.
“Come back over here and we can work things out.”
Harry stared at him for a moment, biting his lip before shaking his head slowly. He couldn’t allow himself to get attached to Snape. Whatever this was, it wouldn’t last. Snape didn’t want him. No one did. “Just, please. Let me go.”
“I will have the house-elves leave the appetite boosters with your meals,” Snape murmured.
“Thanks,” Harry whispered, hand hovering over the doorknob. Snape studied him for a long moment.
“You may leave. But I will not let you go.”
Harry didn’t hesitate a second longer before wrenching open the door and running away.
***
He was out of the potion far sooner than he should have been.
Wednesday night, it was either no sleep or chance the nightmares. Harry tried to stay up for a while but due to his less than stellar eating habits of late, stress from school, and just general exhaustion, he found that he couldn’t manage it, falling asleep around midnight.
It wasn’t long before he found himself back at Privet Drive, at the non-existent mercy of his relatives once again.
He held a hand to his reddened cheek, stinging from where Uncle Vernon had just slapped him. He willed himself not to cry, as it would not help matters. It would only make things worse. Still, he could not fight a single teardrop escaping the corner of his eye.
“You’ll stay in there for a week this time, boy,” Uncle Vernon snarled as he shoved Harry roughly into his cupboard. “No meals!”
The lock slid shut and Harry heard Dudley’s laughter echoing throughout the house as his cousin stomped up the stairs, shaking dust and spiders down from the ceiling of the cupboard.
Harry could not hold back the tears then, and it no longer mattered as there was no one there to see him. Unfortunately, the sound of his sobs could still be heard, as Aunt Petunia kicked the door and told him to stop his whinging.
“What, do you think someone actually cares how we treat you? Imagine, someone, caring for you,” he could practically see Aunt Petunia sneering through the door.
Harry’s red-rimmed eyes squinted through the darkness, hoping against all hope that despite his aunt’s words, maybe this time someone would come to rescue him from his horrible relatives. It was a dream he had given up long ago as a small child, but somehow, this time he felt as though there was someone out there who cared about him.
Suddenly, Snape appeared in the darkness, as though created from the shadows.
“Dad!” Harry exclaimed, reaching out to hug him. His father was here now, everything would be okay. He would get him out of the cupboard and take him away from Privet Drive just as he had always dreamed.
But as his arms connected around his waist, Snape roughly pushed him away. Harry looked up, shocked to see the coldness illuminating in his father’s eyes.
“Do you think that I’m happy about this?” Snape questioned harshly. “I despise you, Potter, that does not change just because I am your father. I wish I weren’t, I wish I never knew. I’m ashamed to have contributed to your creation. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”
“But Dad-”
“Don’t call me that, Potter!” Snape snapped.
“No, I’m Harry! You’re Dad and I’m Harry and we love each other! You’re supposed to take care of me!”
“Entitled as always, Potter,” Snape sneered with far more contempt than even Aunt Petunia could ever manage. “I do not owe you anything. I am not your dad. I am a sperm donor and nothing more.”
“Dad,” Harry choked, fresh new tears springing to his eyes. Snape glared at him before disappearing as if never there, leaving Harry all alone.
Harry crawled over to his cot and curled up on the mattress, stuffing a fist in his mouth to quiet himself as he cried his heart out. No one cared. His father didn’t want him, no one did. He would be alone forever.
Harry awoke with a gasp, feeling real tears sliding down his cheeks as he came back to his senses. It had felt so real, his… his father’s rejection.
But no… Snape had said that he was Harry’s father, even if Harry wouldn’t be his son. Snape hardly even knew Harry, not where it really counted, and still, he wanted to know him. He wasn’t rejecting Harry…
Harry was the one rejecting him…
Harry clearly needed more Dreamless Sleep and Snape had said to come to him if he did. Snape was always offering to help Harry… Perhaps he should take him up on that offer?
Harry put on his glasses and practically fell out of his bed as he hurried to quickly but quietly slip on his robe and house shoes and trek down to the dungeons.
Convulsion