The remainder of the weekend seemed to flow relatively smoothly for Severus and Harry, even though Harry was exhibiting a bit more clinginess than usual. Don, however, reassured them both that such behavior was typical for a child grappling with Harry's circumstances. Deep down, despite not articulating it, Severus relished the close contact with his son. The exception being when Harry exhibited signs of fear each time Severus had to leave momentarily to tend to one of his snakes. The child's distress was heart-rending. When Severus returned, Harry would latch onto him, eyes brimming with tears, mumbling how he feared Severus had left him forever.
Through repeated reassurances and an abundance of comforting embraces, Harry would eventually regain his composure. But it troubled Severus how swiftly Harry seemed to forget these soothing words. Severus understood that years of abuse had deeply scarred Harry, that it would take significant time and effort to rebuild his trust. However, the sight of his son in such distress tugged painfully at Severus's heartstrings, splintering a small piece of his heart each time.
In stark contrast, Albus had a hectic weekend. He had received a letter from Remus expressing his aversion to Sirius Black in the wake of his actions towards the Potters. Nevertheless, Remus agreed to return to see Harry. He was disheartened to learn about the mistreatment Harry had suffered at the hands of his relatives but took solace in the fact that Severus had intervened. He'd always believed that beneath Severus's snarky exterior, a kind heart resided.
Upon arriving at Hogwarts, Remus's first instinct was to see Harry, but Albus had other plans in mind. He suggested that Harry and Severus needed a tranquil weekend to recover from recent events and prepare for challenges yet to come. Remus reluctantly acquiesced, promising not to disturb the pair until Albus deemed it appropriate. Albus then revealed the events concerning Sirius, despite Remus's initial reluctance to hear any news about him.
After much persuasion and reassurance, Remus grudgingly accepted the truth of Albus's narrative. The revelation shook him, reducing him to sobbing fits over the unjust treatment of his friend. It took nearly an hour to console him.
Once their meeting concluded, Albus arranged for Remus to stay in a small cottage by the beach for some rest and relaxation. He was well aware of Remus's financial struggles due to his lycanthropy, and he anticipated the cottage would be an ideal place for Sirius to begin his recovery when he was released from Azkaban. The cottage was heavily warded against self-harm, a common trait among Azkaban detainees, and its serene, calming atmosphere had once served Severus well during his own recuperation.
After ensuring Remus was comfortably settled with a well-stocked fridge and a house-elf to prepare meals, Albus returned to his quest of liberating Sirius. The Ministry, in their continuous attempts to mask their errors, had once again postponed the trial, hoping the public's memory of the case would fade over time. They aimed to discreetly lock Sirius away, seemingly prepared to resort to any means necessary to accomplish this.
Unfortunately for them, Albus was determined to secure the innocent man's release. Pulling a few more strings, he managed to reschedule the trial for the following week. He even secured a vial of Severus's potent truth serum, intending to use it during the trial. Albus's resolve was unwavering; he was unstoppable when on a mission to seek justice.
However, that Sunday, Don paid him another visit. During the previous visit, Albus had managed to convince the Healer that his collapsing at the dinner table was due to fleeting fatigue. But this time, the dark circles under Albus's eyes told a more compelling story than any words he might utter.
Almost immediately, Don fixed Albus with a glare that would have made Severus proud, directing him towards the living room for a discussion. Resignedly, Albus complied, sinking into the comfortable couch he hadn't used for some days. He was astonished to realize just how easily one could forget the simple pleasures of comfort when utterly exhausted.
With surgical precision, Don extracted all the worries weighing down Albus and laid them bare on the table. They conversed for hours about Albus's overwhelming responsibilities and his failed attempts to delegate some of the load to Minerva, who was equally swamped with work.
After a thoughtful pause, Don suggested he could assist with some of the paperwork and recommended seeking help from other staff members. Albus, though initially reluctant, agreed to approach Filius during dinner that night. The older wizard might not be thrilled with the proposition, but Albus knew the Healer was right - he was in dire need of assistance.
Monday dawned all too soon, drawing groans of displeasure from everyone, but especially from Harry and Severus.
To rouse Harry from his slumber that morning, Severus tenderly jostled Harry's shoulder, his gaze softening with melancholy as he peered down at the boy. Harry had once again sought the warmth and proximity of Severus's bed in the middle of the night, a habit that was becoming more frequent. Severus, unable to resist the hopeful gaze of Harry standing beside his bed in his pyjamas, had acquiesced and allowed the boy to cuddle up to him.
Once more, he gently shook Harry, this time succeeding in waking him. A pair of sleep-laden eyes blinked open, looking up at him. A smile spread across Severus's face as he brushed back the tangle of hair obscuring the boy's face. "Good morning, Harry," he murmured.
Harry responded with a smile of his own, placing his hand on top of Severus's. "Good morning, daddy," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Are you ready to get up, Harry?" Severus asked, his voice still soft. Harry gave a slow nod, pulling his hand away from Severus's.
"Alright, then. Why don't you go take your shower? Madam Lark is expected to arrive around ten, so we have ample time for a leisurely breakfast," Severus suggested.
As Harry sat up, nodding his agreement, Severus noted a sudden shift in the boy's demeanor. His posture stiffened, a clear indication that he was straining to keep his emotions in check. Exhaling a subtle sigh, Severus moved to sit next to Harry, wrapping a comforting arm around the boy.
"It'll be okay, Harry. You'll be back home before you know it," Severus reassured him. Harry turned, burying his face in Severus's robes. For a moment, Severus closed his eyes, his hand tracing soothing circles on the boy's back.
Leaning forward, he tenderly pushed a loose strand of hair from Harry's forehead. "What is it, Harry?" he probed gently, the concern in his voice as palpable as the tension in the room.
Tears welled up in Harry's eyes, his lips trembling as he gathered the courage to voice his fears. "I...I don't want to leave," Harry confessed, his voice wavering. His small hands clutched at Severus's robes, as if the physical connection could anchor him in place.
The hurt in Harry's voice stabbed at Severus's heart. His hands continued their comforting strokes on the boy's back, hoping to lend him some strength. "It's only for a week, Harry. You can talk to me whenever you want. Can you make a promise for me?" he coaxed gently, aiming to instill a sense of courage within the trembling child.
Harry, his eyes still moist, looked up at Severus, the desperation in his gaze slowly replaced by a shred of hope. His grip on Severus's robes slackened slightly, and he gave a small, hesitant nod, indicating his willingness to listen.
"Try to make the best of this. I know you don't want to go, but consider it as an adventure," Severus continued, putting on a brave smile for the boy. "You'll meet new people, see new things, and when you do, you can tell me all about it in your letters."
The promise of sharing his experiences seemed to resonate with Harry. He nodded again, his teary eyes showcasing a new determination. With a tremulous breath, he managed a barely audible response. "Okay, daddy."
Severus let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Now, go take your shower," he ordered gently, giving Harry's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before guiding him towards the bathroom, hoping the promise of a new adventure could temporarily pacify the boy's fears.
Harry nodded one last time, moving to the edge of the bed before sliding off. He padded quietly towards the bathroom, leaving Severus to watch his retreating figure with a twinge of apprehension. He hoped fervently that the upcoming week would pass without incident. Harry had already suffered more than enough.
Shaking off his troubling thoughts, Severus rose from the bed and began preparing for the day ahead. Today was a day he had been dreading - the day the social worker would arrive to take Harry away.
Meanwhile, Harry had retreated into the bathroom. Rather than switching on the shower immediately, he lowered the toilet seat and sat down, cradling his head in his hands. As he reminded himself that he was only going to be away for a week, tears slipped from his eyes unnoticed, tracing their way down his cheeks. It was just one week, he reassured himself silently.
Once Harry regained control over his emotions, he rose to his feet, swiping away the residue of his tears with the sleeve of his pyjamas. Turning his focus to the task at hand, he took his shower, letting the warm water wash away the remaining evidence of his distress. He didn't wish to add to his daddy's worries.
After taking a leisurely bath and grooming himself for the day, Harry exited the bathroom. His next destination was his room, where he wanted to double-check his belongings. He wanted to ensure he was fully prepared for the coming week. While he knew he could ask Don to fetch him something, he preferred not to be a bother.
Confident he had everything he needed, Harry entered the living room. He spotted Severus through the open kitchen door, engaged in conversation with a house elf—likely placing an order for breakfast. With a sigh, Harry ambled into the kitchen just as the elf vanished in a pop, and a hearty breakfast materialized on the table.
Severus, upon noticing Harry's arrival, flashed a reassuring smile. "I thought you might enjoy some oatmeal this morning. It'll keep you full and warm for a good while," he proposed, his voice filled with warmth and care.
Grinning at the comfort in Severus's tone, Harry responded, "Sounds good, daddy."
"Excellent. Have a seat then, and dig in. The oatmeal has cream in it, so if you want juice this morning, you can have that instead of milk."
Harry's smile broadened at the sight of the steaming oatmeal before him—rich with cream and generously topped with berries. As per Severus's suggestion, he sat and began to relish his breakfast.
Once they finished their meal, it was nearly the time Madam Lark had said she would arrive. With Severus's help, Harry gathered his two small bags from his room and placed them near the fireplace, ready for the social worker's arrival. When the preparations were complete, Severus retreated into his bedroom, leaving Harry sitting on the couch.
Returning with the fairy tale book in hand, Severus approached Harry, placing the book gently on his lap. "Harry, can you do one more thing for me?" he asked.
With a small nod, Harry agreed. He would do anything for this man.
With an approving nod, Severus reached out, giving Harry's knee an affectionate pat. "While you're away, I want you to read a story from this book every night before bed. Do you think you can do that?" he queried, his dark eyes intent on Harry's reaction.
A shadow of concern flitted across Harry's features, his small hands tightening around the edges of the book. "Are you sure you want me to take your book, daddy?" he asked, his voice hushed as though the book were a sacred artifact.
Severus nodded reassuringly, his stern features softening. "Yes, child. That book is yours now."
Harry's gaze dropped back to the book cradled in his lap. He admired the cover, entranced by the beauty of the vintage design. It was adorned with intricate golden swirls, held together with a striking navy binding, and had an air of wisdom and tales waiting to be discovered.
Feeling almost reverent, Harry ran a finger gently over the design, tracing the delicate lines of gold. "It's beautiful," he murmured, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a small smile of wonderment.
Matching Harry's warm smile, Severus nodded in agreement. "It'll make a fine addition to your collection," he said, his voice brimming with approval.
At this, Harry looked up, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Collection?" he repeated, uncertain of what Severus meant.
In response, Severus patted the boy's knee once more, leaning back in his chair as he explained, "Yes. I thought that when you come back next week, we could take a trip to Hogsmeade to find more books for your shelves."
Harry's eyes sparkled with excitement at this proposal, his face lighting up. "Really?" he asked, the trepidation from earlier completely replaced with anticipation.
Slowly, Severus nodded. He was momentarily thrown off balance as Harry leapt up and hurled himself into his arms. However, he quickly regained his footing, securing his arms around the boy.
Just as Harry was about to pull away, the fireplace sprang to life, and a moment later, Don stepped out. Hearing the sound, Harry clung tighter to Severus, mistaking the visitor for Madam Lark.
Reaching out, Severus placed a gentle hand on Harry's back, his touch a comforting presence. "It's just Don, Harry," he murmured, seeking to alleviate the boy's apprehension.
Harry cast a sideways glance at the Healer, his large eyes wary. However, his grip on his daddy's robes remained firm. Recognizing the boy's need for comfort, Severus sighed quietly, his fingers continuing to rub comforting circles on Harry's back.
"Hello, Harry. Hello, Severus," Don greeted them warmly, his eyes carrying a gentle understanding of the boy's unease.
In response, Severus offered a nod of acknowledgment, his hand never ceasing its soothing motion. Harry, meanwhile, seemed to draw further comfort from his daddy's presence, resting his head against the strong chest of the Potions Master.
Looking between the pair, Don ventured a question. "How are you two doing today?" he inquired, his tone filled with genuine concern.
Gazing down at Harry, his hand disappearing into the boy's untidy mop of hair, Severus provided a response. "I think we're doing just fine today," he admitted, his voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Just a little nervous."
The Healer nodded sympathetically and turned his attention to Harry. "I would be nervous too, but I know I'd feel better if someone I knew accompanied me. That's why I thought I'd join you and Madam Lark to meet your cousins."
With his head still resting on Severus's chest, Harry turned his gaze to Don. "Will you stay with me for a little bit when we get there?" he asked, his voice filled with quiet hope.
Upon hearing Harry's tentative acceptance, Don responded with a nod and a smile that was intended to be comforting. "Until you feel comfortable and settled in, Harry."
A small but grateful "Thank you," escaped from Harry's lips, to which Don replied warmly, "You're very welcome, Harry."
Just as the words had been spoken, the room was once again filled with the rumble and glow of the fireplace as Madam Lark stepped through the emerald flames and into the room. As she stepped out, Severus exhaled deeply, pulling Harry into his arms for one last comforting embrace. But as he attempted to gently pull away, Harry tightened his hold on his father's robes, as if he could stop his departure by holding on tightly.
Feeling the boy's reluctance, Severus sighed, his hand gently stroking Harry's back in a soothing manner. "It's time to go, Harry; you have to let go," he murmured softly.
Harry shook his head in response, his face hidden in the soft folds of Severus's robe, refusing to look up. His resolve didn't waver as Severus tried once more to coax him. "Come on, Harry. It's only for a week. The sooner you go, the sooner you'll return."
But Harry continued to resist, shaking his head once again. Seeing the silent plea in his son's eyes, Severus turned towards Don, who stepped forward reluctantly to assist. With careful hands, Don attempted to extricate the boy's clenched fists from Severus's robes.
"Come on, Harry," Don urged, his tone soft yet firm.
But Harry wasn't ready to give in just yet. "I don't want to go!" he exclaimed, his voice rising with emotion.
At that, Severus knelt down to Harry's level, his gaze steady and filled with compassion. "It will be okay, Harry. I promise you," he assured, trying to lend Harry his strength.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry nodded and wiped his wet cheeks with his sleeve, his small voice wavering as he confessed, "I'll miss you."
Matching Harry's tender tone, Severus reassured him, "I'll miss you too, Harry. Go with Don and Madam Lark now." His voice wavered, laced with the poignancy of the moment.
Unable to hold back any longer, Harry lunged forward, clinging to Severus once again as sobs shook his small frame. Holding him close, Severus tried to comfort him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Calm down, Harry, everything will be alright."
Eventually, Harry's sobbing began to quieten, and he pulled back, looking up at Severus with eyes still shimmering with unshed tears. "I love you, daddy," he confessed, his voice choked with emotion.
The sincerity in Harry's voice caused a lump in Severus's throat, and he responded in a whisper, his hand gently cupping Harry's cheek. "I love you too, son," he confessed, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Don placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, gaining his attention. Harry turned to look at him, gave a small nod, and accepted the small stuffed cat from his backpack, clutching it tightly against his chest. At the same time, Don picked up Harry's bags and his new book.
Madam Lark approached, her smile gentle as she looked down at Harry. "Ready to go?"
"Do I have to go?" Harry's voice was small and defeated.
Sadly, the social worker nodded. "I know you don't want to, Harry, but I'm afraid you do have to."
Lowering his head in resignation, Harry let the social worker's hand guide him towards the fireplace. In the blink of an eye, with a handful of floo powder and a few muttered words, all three were whisked away from Severus's rooms.
Emerging from the fireplace in an unfamiliar location, Harry felt a surge of nausea. He took a moment to wipe the remaining tears and soot from his face and gaze curiously at his surroundings. He found himself in a lively pub, the location of which remained a mystery.
Noticing his bewilderment, Don placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're in Spain, Harry. We couldn't floo directly to your cousin's home, so we landed in this pub nearby."
Harry nodded and took a moment to truly observe his surroundings. The pub was warm and bustling, filled with chattering locals and punctuated by hearty laughter. He breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that no one was staring at him or his scar—a stark contrast to his unnerving first experience at the Leaky Cauldron.
Don nudged him gently, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. The Healer pulled out a jacket from one of the bags—the jacket that Severus had bought for him.
"Put this on, Harry. It can get chilly this time of year, and I don't want you catching a chill," he advised.
Harry obediently slipped on the jacket and zipped it up. Taking Madam Lark's hand, he allowed her to guide him out of the pub and onto the chilly street.
The crisp, cold wind swept across their faces as soon as they stepped outside. Harry was immediately grateful for the jacket; he could only imagine how cold he'd have been without it.
As Don and Madam Lark led him towards his relatives' home, Harry surveyed the village. It was a beautiful little wizarding hamlet, with its architecture reminiscent of Diagon Alley but infused with a distinctly Spanish flair. Shops advertised a variety of wizarding gear, from robes and wands to potion supplies and magical pets. Despite his initial reservations, Harry felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe his relatives would be as welcoming as their village seemed to be.
Upon reaching the end of the lane, the two adults guided Harry down a side road and up to an impressive mansion. His eyes widened in awe—it was unlike any wizarding home he had seen before.
Don knocked on the door—firm, yet respectful. The door was opened by a small house elf who welcomed them with a hint of anticipation in its voice. "Master and Mistress have been waiting for you. Right this way."
The three of them shared a glance before following the elf through the intricate corridors of the house. Arriving in what appeared to be a stately sitting room, Don carefully set the bags down next to a plush couch. Almost instantly, a house-elf, presumably Mary, snatched the bags up with a snap of her fingers and vanished from sight.
Startled, Harry looked at the spot where his bags once were, before raising his eyes questioningly towards Don. "Where did she take my bags?"
Don returned his perplexity with a gentle smile. "I'm sure she just took them to your room. Don't worry, Harry."
With a small nod, Harry leaned against Don, drawing comfort from the familiar presence. He wasn't ready for the separation. Even though he knew he could write to Severus and could reach out to Don whenever he needed him, he felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.
Sensing Harry's unease, Don wrapped a supportive arm around his shoulders, channeling a slow stream of calming magic into the young boy.
Just as Madam Lark made herself comfortable on Harry's other side, the room's doors swung open to admit a stern-looking woman and a tall, kind-faced man. Harry observed them curiously, noting the contrast between the woman's barely four-foot stature and the man's towering six-foot presence.
On their arrival, Don rose, guiding Harry to his feet while resting protective hands on the boy's shoulders. Madam Lark mirrored his actions.
"Mr. and Mrs. Diaz, thank you for welcoming us into your home. I'm Don Patterson, and you've met Madam Lark. And this here," he gestured towards the boy standing in front of him, "is Harry."
The woman stepped forward, scrutinizing Harry from top to bottom. "He will do. Your room is upstairs and to the left. I trust you can stay out of trouble."
Her abrupt departure left the room bathed in silence. The remaining adults were taken aback by her brusque manners. Harry instinctively leaned further into Don, his apprehension evident.
Reacting to the uncomfortable silence, the tall man stepped forward, wearing an amiable smile. "Please forgive my wife. She isn't too fond of children, but I'm sure with time, she will grow fond of Harry. I can already tell he's a fine young man."
Don's smile was genuine. "He indeed is a fine young man. Why don't we chat while Mrs. Lark and Harry go unpack and settle in?"
"That sounds like a fine idea. If you need any assistance, just call for Mary, our house-elf. She'll be more than happy to help," the man replied, his voice deep and soothing.
Madam Lark nodded, reaching out to take Harry's hand. "Come on, Harry. Don won't leave without saying goodbye."
Though hesitant, Harry relinquished his grip on Don's robes—an unconscious action he had performed when the unfamiliar man had started speaking. Something about this new man didn't sit right with him. While he hoped his gut was wrong, he knew it had never led him astray before.
With that, Harry left the room with Madam Lark, relieved to be escaping the unsettling aura of the man, yet distressed to be leaving Don.
Once Harry and Madam Lark had disappeared, Don made his way back into the sitting room. He moved with a slow pace, reflecting the weight of his responsibilities. Choosing a spot on the couch opposite to Mark, he sat down, a serious expression carved onto his features.
"Mr. Diaz, has Madam Lark informed you about Harry's medical conditions?" he began, his voice steady.
Mark straightened in his seat, his interest piqued. "Please, call me Mark," he corrected mildly, his brows furrowing at Don's words. "And medical conditions? He appears quite healthy."
With a shake of his head, Don disagreed. His gaze was heavy with a mix of concern and determination as he met Mark's eyes. "I might have healed his visible injuries, but there are others that remain invisible to the naked eye."
Hearing this, Mark's frown deepened, the lines on his forehead becoming more pronounced. A flicker of worry passed through his eyes as he leaned forward, his interest turning into concern. "What's wrong with the boy?" he asked, his tone laced with apprehension.
"He suffers from vivid nightmares. We have a stock of calming potions to administer after a bad dream. Severus has been Occluding his mind before sleep, which seems to help, but I'm not sure if you can?"
Mark shook his head, a pang of regret visible on his face. "I regretfully do not possess that skill. So, a calming potion after a nightmare?"
Don nodded, a touch of seriousness in his tone. "Yes. Harry tends to get quite distressed after a nightmare and finds it difficult to self-soothe. This leads to another issue—he has a weak bladder. Particularly during a bad dream, he may lose control. You must remember it isn't his fault. He's been through a lot and is working on healing."
Hearing the information, Mark's gaze momentarily flickered away, a hint of discomfort evident in his expression. "So, he wets the bed," he concluded somewhat uneasily.
Don watched him closely, his brows narrowing slightly in disapproval of Mark's tone. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and responded firmly, "Yes, but only under great duress from nightmares." The seriousness in his voice was a clear indication of the matter's gravity.
Upon hearing this, Mark redirected his gaze back to Don. His expression was more solemn now, reflecting a new understanding of the severity of Harry's condition. His hands folded in his lap as he asked, "Is there anything else I should know?" His voice had softened.
Don noted Mark's subtle change in demeanor. At first, he had seemed friendly and welcoming, but his reactions to Harry's conditions hinted at another side. He vowed to revisit the next morning to ensure Harry's welfare. The Ministry had denied his request to stay with Harry, wanting him to have 'quality' time with the Diaz family.
Shaking his head slightly, Don looked into Mark's eyes, his expression serious yet understanding. "There's no guide to raising children, Mark. I can tell you about his medical issues, but the rest—you'll have to learn on your own."
Absorbing the information, Mark responded once again with a nod. His hands subconsciously clenched in determination. "I understand," he replied, his voice steady.
With his piece said, Don rose from his seat, an air of resolution about him. He straightened his robes, his gaze lingering on Mark for a moment longer. "Good. I should check that Harry is settled in before we take our leave."
Mark also rose, mirroring Don's determined aura. He gestured towards the staircase, leading the way with an arm extended. "As you heard my wife mention, the bedroom is to the left."
The Healer responded with a nod of his own before ascending the stairs to Harry's new room. On reaching the door, he peered inside, finding Harry perched on a large bed, gazing down at his feet. Beside him, the social worker was murmuring soothing words, attempting to calm his visible distress.
Reading Harry's fragile state, Don quietly stepped into the room, easing himself onto the bed on Harry's other side. Emulating Severus's comforting actions from past experiences, he drew Harry into his side and began to channel waves of calming magic.
In the quietness of his new room, Harry was huddled up against Don, looking almost too small in the vast space. When the social worker asked him how he felt, Harry's response was barely more than a whisper. "Harry, would you like to share how you're feeling?"
Harry nestled further into Don's side, his head coming to rest on the older man's shoulder. He shook his head slightly, his voice choked with emotion as he replied, "I just want my daddy."
Don, empathizing with the boy, adjusted his hold on Harry, pulling him a little closer in an attempt to comfort him. "I know, Harry. Why don't you open that journal Severus gave you and write to him?"
Harry acknowledged the suggestion with a small nod, but he didn't make a move to fetch the journal. His hands were busy, seeking comfort in the softness of a small cat plushie. Recognizing the boy's hesitation, the social worker extended his arm to retrieve the journal and a quill from a nearby table, carefully placing them in Harry's lap. "Here you go, Harry."
Slowly, as though weighed down by his emotions, Harry reached for the quill. He held the journal awkwardly in one hand, managing to flip it open to the first page. The quill scratched against the paper as he scribbled a quick note, each letter a testament to his longing. "I miss you, daddy."
The moment the words were etched onto the page, the book took on a warm glow, a tangible sign of the magic it contained. Within moments, a new message started to form in response to his own, the words appearing as though written by an invisible hand.
"I miss you too, Harry. How is your new room? Do you want to tell me about it?"
Looking down at the journal, Don couldn't help but smile. He was certain that Harry, now able to communicate with Severus, would feel somewhat more comfortable in his new environment, despite his lingering fears.
"I think it's time Mrs. Lark and I leave, Harry. Are you alright with that?"
The fear in Harry's eyes was palpable as he looked up at Don. "Please, don't leave me."
Don tightened his arms around the boy in a soothing embrace. "We're not leaving forever, Harry. Remember, you can call me anytime with your pendant, and I'll be back tomorrow."
Harry nodded, his body finally relaxing into Don's embrace. Over Harry's head, Don exchanged worried glances with Mrs. Lark. They had anticipated Harry's discomfort about staying with strangers, but his plea for them to stay even after his connection with Severus took them aback. His soft crying into Don's robes heightened their concern.
In an attempt to comfort Harry, Don gently pulled back to meet his eyes. "Why are you crying, Harry?"
"They don't like me, and I want to go home. I want to be with my daddy."
Don, pulling Harry back into the hug, sighed and began rubbing soothing circles on his back. "They don't know you yet, Harry. I'm certain that once they get to know you, they'll grow fond of you. I know you want to go back to Severus, but right now, you have to stay here. I promise you everything will be alright."
Harry looked up at Don with tear-streaked eyes, sniffled, and asked, "You promise?"
Don nodded earnestly. "Yes, Harry, I promise. Now, why don't you go sit at the desk and continue your chat with Severus? I bet he's eager to hear all about your new room and the town you're in."
With a small nod, Harry picked up his plushie and the journal and headed to the desk. As he settled down to write, Don approached him from behind, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
Don gave Harry a final gentle squeeze of reassurance before standing up, his gaze filled with concern for the young boy. "I'll see you in the morning, Harry."
Harry responded with a simple nod, his fingers curling tighter around his plushie as he blinked back a new wave of tears that insisted on trailing down his face.
With a resigned sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his concern, Don gestured to the social worker who had accompanied him. They both moved towards the door, leaving the room and the boy behind. As they exited, they took care to close the door quietly, to avoid disturbing the somber atmosphere in the room.
As soon as the door clicked shut, a familiar warmth spread from Harry's journal, the magic within it coming to life once more. Concerned words appeared on the page, written by Severus's invisible hand. "Harry? Are you alright?"
Seeing those words on the page brought a small, albeit fleeting, smile to Harry's face. He was touched by the concern embedded in them, a reminder that even though he was far away, his daddy cared. His hand found the quill once again, and he began to pen his reply. "I'm alright. Don and Madam Lark just left."
The book warmed again as Severus responded, the magical link between them allowing them to keep in touch. "So, you're all settled in then? Why don't you describe your room to me?"
Harry cast a look around the room. Until now, he had been too distraught to observe it properly, distracted by the social worker unpacking his belongings. Now, he took note of the room's grand size, its dark blue decor, and the rows of books adorning the walls. It was a decent room, he thought, but it lacked the comforting, welcoming atmosphere of his room back at Severus's place.
Staring down at the journal, Harry began to write, his description bringing to life the new room he found himself in. "It's nice. Everything is in shades of blue, and there's a large bed for me to sleep in."
His father's written response came promptly, focusing the conversation on the unfamiliar people in this unfamiliar house. "And what about your cousins? Can you tell me about them?"
Feeling a renewed wave of unease, Harry hugged his plushie even tighter. The cold gaze of Mrs. Diaz and her cryptic smile haunted him, prompting his hesitant response. "I'm not sure, daddy. They don't seem to like me much. Mrs. Diaz, I don't even know her first name, kept giving me cold looks. Mr. Diaz kept smiling, but it wasn't kind...it was sort of scary."
There was a pause in their written conversation, the book growing momentarily cold in Harry's hands. He imagined Severus contemplating his words, wrestling with the distance between them and how to best comfort his son.
"I'm certain they'll warm up to you once they get to know you better, Harry. But remember, you must inform me or Don if anything goes awry, okay?" Severus' words provided a measure of reassurance, even if they couldn't quite quell Harry's worries.
Determined to honor his promise to his father, Harry wrote back, his words laden with the conviction of a promise he intended to keep. "I promise I will, daddy."
"Good. It's almost lunchtime. Why don't you find out when lunch is served and grab something to eat?" Despite the unease that had pervaded their conversation, Severus's next words managed to bring a touch of normalcy back to their dialogue, reminding Harry of the day-to-day activities that needed his attention.
With his stomach rumbling in agreement, Harry wrote his affirmation before closing his journal. Clutching his stuffed toy close, he cautiously ventured out of his room to inquire about lunch.
As he navigated the unfamiliar hallway, Harry found it rather creepy. He hadn't noticed the scowling portraits earlier, their cruel comments reminding him too vividly of his unpleasant relatives, causing a chill to creep up his spine.
Eventually, he arrived at the double doors he believed led to the kitchen. With a slight hesitation, he pushed them open, revealing a bustling scene of house elves preparing a sizable meal. The moment he stepped in, however, their frenetic activities ceased, all four turning to gaze at him. The one he'd met earlier popped up in front of him, the other elves resuming their tasks at an even brisker pace.
"Boy is to stay in his room. Boy must not disturb anyone. Food will be brought to boy later."
Harry, confused, questioned the elf. "I have to stay in my room? What about lunch?"
"Master said boy is to stay in room at all times. Now go back to room."
With a pop, the elf disappeared, leaving Harry to retreat to his room. As he walked back, he wondered how long this confinement would last. His experiences with the Dursleys had made him accustomed to long periods of isolation, but he hoped it wouldn't be the case here.
Back in his room, he curled up on his bed, clutching his stuffed cat tightly. He closed his eyes, concentrating on happy thoughts—his love for his father and the fact that in just a week, he would be back home. Just one more week.
When Harry next awoke, he was jolted from a terrifying dream by an angry man shaking him.
"You little brat! How dare you interrupt our meal with your silly nightmare! Not your fault, my ass. You're weak and pathetic; let me show you what happens to misbehaving, weak little boys!"
Terrified, Harry curled into a protective ball, covering his head and drawing his knees up to his stomach. He didn't know what this man intended to do, but it sounded dreadful. The sound of a belt being unbuckled confirmed his worst fears.
As the first lash struck his back, Harry bit his lip to stifle a scream, his past experiences with his Uncle teaching him well.
Harry's torment seemed to last forever. Mike Diaz kept lashing at him with the belt, growing increasingly frustrated at Harry's resistance to scream. When his arm finally grew tired, Diaz dropped the belt, reaching forward to snatch Harry's comforting toy.
"You want to see your little toy in one piece again? You won't tell anyone what happened here. Understand?"
Terrified, Harry whimpered but didn't respond. Angered, Diaz smacked him hard on the back of his head. "I asked if you understand?"
Suppressing a sob, Harry nodded. "Y...yes...sir."
"Good. Behave this week, and you'll get this little piece of trash back. Otherwise, it'll go in the fire. Do you understand?"
Again, Harry nodded, eager to avoid another hit. His door slammed shut shortly after, a locking spell cast from the outside.
When he was certain he was alone, Harry allowed his suppressed sobs to wrack his body. His entire body ached, he missed his plush toy Shadow, and he longed for his daddy's comforting presence. He yearned to be home, where his father promised to protect him.
For a long while, Harry lay there, tears soaking his face and his body throbbing in pain. A damp patch forming on his pants brought a new wave of misery—he had wet himself, and without any means to clean himself, he was certain a rash would develop later. The thought only added to his current distress.
Treading carefully, Harry gingerly moved off his bed towards the spot where the social worker had unpacked his things earlier. Each movement sent a wave of pain rippling through his back, a stinging reminder of the recent attack. Harry gritted his teeth and persevered, his determination to change his soiled clothes overpowering his immediate discomfort. He slowly slid off his dirty pants and underwear, substituting them with a fresh pair. A silent thank you escaped his lips to his father, who had thoughtfully packed extra clothing for him. He was certain he had enough clothes to last two weeks without requiring a wash.
Once he'd changed, Harry cautiously approached his desk, opening the enchanted book Severus had given him. Deciding against sitting down due to the persistent throbbing in his back, he picked up his quill and dipped it in ink.
With a tremulous hand, Harry wrote out his father's name on the page, a lone teardrop splashing onto the parchment. "Daddy?" The word was barely more than a whisper, yet laden with emotions he couldn't voice out.
Upon seeing the word, Severus's response came swiftly, the words appearing in the book. "Harry? What's the matter, child?"
Blinking back his tears, Harry picked up his quill once more, swallowing back a sob as he confessed his feelings. His hand wavered slightly as he wrote, "Nothing, daddy. I just miss you."
His father's immediate response was tinged with worry. "Is that why there are tears on the page, or is there another reason? Remember, you can tell me anything."
His father's trust brought a lump to Harry's throat. He looked around the empty room, his heart aching for the familiar presence of his father. But he hesitated. His eyes fell on where his toy once resided – the gift from his father that had been mishandled by his new 'family'. He didn't want to risk losing it, even if it meant keeping his torment hidden.
Treading carefully with his words, Harry offered a quiet response. "I just miss you a lot, daddy," he managed to write down, withholding his true worries.
Severus's response was a mix of understanding and regret. "And I miss you too, child. What did you have for lunch?" Despite their shared yearning, Severus managed to steer the conversation towards lighter topics, an attempt to momentarily distract Harry from his current distress.
A metallic taste filled Harry's mouth as he bit his lip too hard, the hunger pangs in his stomach becoming more noticeable. He was torn between telling his father the truth or saving him from worrying over him. But before he could decide, Severus's hasty handwriting appeared on the page again.
Scratching his head, Harry read his father's worried inquiry. "Child? Did you have something to eat?"
Sighing softly, he picked up his quill, making the decision to bend the truth slightly. His heart ached at the thought of worrying his father further. "Yes, daddy, we ate together in the dining room," he scribbled, leaving out the grim reality of the situation.
Despite his omission, Severus seemed to detect something amiss in the simplicity of his response. "And what did you three have for lunch?" he asked, his words appearing on the page with a sense of urgency.
Struggling against his guilt, Harry forced himself to fabricate a more pleasant scenario. "We had turkey sandwiches," he wrote back, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.
Relieved, Severus responded warmly, "I'm glad to hear that, Harry. I bet it was good. What are you planning on doing for the rest of the afternoon?"
Caught off guard by the question, Harry paused, staring blankly at the page. He was in pain, trapped, and without much option for amusement. He chose the safest option that came to his mind. "I was going to look at that fairy tale book you gave me," he wrote back.
Severus, however, had a different idea. "You were? Why don't you go and see what your cousins are doing and see whether they would like to play a game with you?"
At that suggestion, Harry shook his head instinctively, grimacing at the thought of engaging with his tormentors. In response, he quickly jotted down, "I kind of just want to stay in my room. For right now."
Severus seemed to understand Harry's reluctance, responding with a gentle compromise. "Alright Harry, but you have to promise me to at least try to get to know your relatives this week."
Harry nodded, as if Severus could see him, writing back his agreement. "I promise."
Severus responded affectionately, "Good. Now go and read your book; slowly now."
Harry felt a pang of longing at his father's words, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he responded. "I will. I miss you, daddy, and I love you."
Severus's reply came swiftly, carrying the warmth and affection that Harry longed for. "I miss and love you too, Harry."
Closing his book, Harry shakily walked over to his bed, picked up the fairy tale book from his bedside table, and carefully lowered himself onto the bed. He was determined to endure the pain, hoping the rest of the week would be better, praying he wouldn't have to feel the harsh lash of the belt again.
Story Books