Ben closed the door behind himself carefully.

Quietly, he made his way over to where his seabag was still lying on Severus’ – no, Mr. Snape’s carpet.  At the moment, Ben didn’t want to think about the implications of this name change.
Maybe he had been a bit rash in his anger towards Mr. Sna- him. He felt guilty about shouting at his neighbour. After all, the man had always been good to him.
He had invited Ben over for tea and dinner more times, than Ben could count seemingly having the best timing with the drunken mood swings of Ben’s mother.
He had adopted a small shaggy cat that had been on the verge of death and nursed it back to health. He had taught Ben a good deal about vegetable gardening, about cooking, about moral dilemmas in obscure science fiction series.

And this was the same man that mistreated Harry in a way that the boy would run away from him?
It wouldn’t come together in Ben’s mind. How could he have been so wrong about his neighbour? Ben felt- he didn’t know how to feel.
Something swirled inside the pit of his stomach like a maelstrom sucking up everything good about Mr. Snape.
It took Ben a while to realize it was betrayal.
He didn’t want to but he felt betrayed by Mr. Snape. Fooled somehow.

Ben didn’t doubt Harry’s reactions though.
His friend had been pretty out of it, his foot must have been killing him but he had recognized where they were heading. He had fought Ben about going back and had thrown up when he saw Mr. Snape.
Ben recognized the signs when he saw them. He understood.
It had been the right thing to confront the professor.

He tiptoed around the back of the sofa.
“Ben?” asked a scratchy voice.
Ben turned around startled. Harry was watching him through bleary eyes.
“Harry,” he greeted the other boy relieved. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”
“I heard yelling,” Harry mumbled.
Ben’s ears started to turn red.
“That would’ve been me,” he said scratching his head.
“You shouted at Snape?” asked Harry awed.
“Yeah…”
“And you’re still alive?”
“Seems so,” Ben muttered sheepishly.

“Remind me to check for your solidness when I can stand up again,” winked Harry.
Ben laughed. It felt good to be with Harry again.
“You can check now if you want to,” he told the boy and went over to kneel beside the sofa.
Tentatively, Harry reached out an arm and Ben who understood wordlessly pulled him into an embrace.
“No, definitely not a ghost,” Harry said smiling.
Ben let out a bark of laughter.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered.
“No Harry.”
“Yes Ben. Thanks for bringing me back.”
Ben pulled back somewhat and eyed his friend critically. He had been so sure that Mr. Snape would help only to discover he had probably mistreated Harry.
“I didn’t know, Harry. I just- I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Harry asked bewildered.
“That you- that you two know each other. That you stayed with- with him. That he- he hit you.”
Confused, Harry furrowed his brow at Ben.
“He didn’t- didn’t do- you know. Didn’t do that.”
“He didn’t?” Ben asked and he couldn’t prevent the hope from stealing itself into his voice.
“He’s a git, no doubt about that but he never hit- I mean, he never did that sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing?” Ben asked shrewdly.
Harry sat up a bit and gesticulated.
“You know. That thing.”
Ben let it drop for now. After all, he hadn’t liked it either when the social workers at the shelter had tried to question him about certain things.

“He said, he’s your teacher.”
“Yup,” Harry said quickly, obviously relieved about the topic change.
“He teaches pot- err chemistry at my boarding school. He’s had it in for me for botching up experiments since day one. He likes to make sarcastic comments a lot, I think. I have detention with him a lot, too.”
Ben cocked his head as if contemplating what Harry had said. Harry hoped that the other boy hadn’t noticed his near slip of tongue.

Wanting to steer the conversation away from Snape Harry asked, “How’d you get here anyway? And how do you know Snape? Do you really live here?”
“Wow, Harry, slow down,” Ben said smiling.
“I- yes I live here,” he started with the easiest question.  “I run away from the shelter and hitchhiked here,” he offered next. Now for the hard part.
“You remember the neighbour I told you about at the shelter?”
Harry wrinkled his brow.
“Yes…,” he said slowly.
“Well… it’s Mr. Snape.”
“What?”
Ben shrugged.
“No way. No way!”
Ben shrugged again helplessly.
“Snape doesn’t watch muggl- he doesn’t watch TV!” Harry said with conviction.
But apart from that it all fit, Harry thought trying to remember Ben’s words from that afternoon so long ago.
Snape was a quiet and pretty private dude. He was kind of a nerd with his fanatic fervour for all things potions. He had a cat and he lived at the castle for most of the year only returning home in the summer…

They heard a knock coming from the door.
After a moment, Snape entered carrying a tray with food. He put it down on the coffee table and quickly retreated towards the door once more as if afraid Harry or Ben would scatter like scared animals.
Then he just stood there, hands wringing each other, seemingly wavering between staying and going. Snape cleared his throat.

“I err- heard that you were awake,” he nodded at Harry.
“I made some soup. You should eat it while it is still warm.”
Without uttering another word, he disappeared.

“That was strange,” Harry said into the sudden silence.
Ben just shrugged again and reached for a steaming bowl of soup, which he held out towards Harry.

Severus sat down in the kitchen and buried his head in his hands. Long black strands swung forward from where they came loose from his ponytail.
He desperately longed for a cup of tea or preferably something stronger. Severus however had never indulged in alcohol before, the picture of his father painting itself all too clearly in his head. He wouldn’t start now.
Severus stood up and put the kettle on.
In it’s bubbling monotone, he could hear Ben screaming at him once more.

He’s a child Severus!

Unbidden, the words came back to him.

Ever since the boy had expressed his anger with Severus, there was something that just wouldn’t leave him alone. Something was nagging at the potions master.

Astounded, Severus found that it wasn’t Ben’s disappointment in him alone that left him wounded.
Severus had always felt that his young neighbour gave him more credit than he deserved. He didn’t do more than inviting the boy over for dinner or an episode of Star Trek after all.
He could- he should have done more for Ben. Severus had suspected for a long time now that the boy wasn’t as happy at home as he pretended to be.
Severus’ encounter with Mrs. Anderson only confirmed his doubts.

Yet, it wasn’t Ben’s disappointment at realizing that Severus wasn’t who he thought him to be that was nagging the man now. It was Severus’ disappointment in himself that wouldn’t allow him a moment of peace.

Severus had always prided himself on being a fine person.
Not a good person, mind you. His Death Eater days weighted too heavy for that, short as they may have been.
But the fact that Severus had ultimately realized his error and had fought to free himself from his dark past had to count for something. Severus prided himself on that.

He also prided himself on becoming a teacher at Hogwarts, as little as he had wanted to at first.
He prided himself on being a Head of House, on being available to his students if they decided to seek his help out, which admittedly didn’t happen too often.

Severus prided himself on being a good professor.
Potions wasn’t a subject one should meddle with. He had always made this clear to his students and there had never been any casualties in his class. The same couldn’t be said about other potion teacher’s tenures.
Severus all too vividly remembered a classmate of his nearly losing an arm all because Slughorn had been too busy talking to one of his favourites.
So yes, Severus was proud that under his tutelage there hadn’t been any accidents, small or big.

He considered himself a fair teacher.
What if the other houses, and especially the Gryffindors, earned more detention, lost more points or incurred his anger and sarcastic comments more often than his Slytherins?
After all, it was Severus who had to protect his snakes from the other houses.
Slytherin had a bad reputation and even if some of it might have been well-earned, Severus felt it was his duty to create a little more balance in the school.

With a small pang, he thought back to all the occasions he had found Draco Malfoy insulting Potter and his friends. Where was the balance in that?
Angrily, Severus pushed the thought away.
So what if he had deducted points from the Gryffindors instead of his own pupil for that?
He tried to shove all the hours Potter had spent scrubbing cauldrons, cleaning floors or preparing nasty – especially nasty, Severus had made sure of it – ingredients in unfairly earned detentions to the back of his mind.
Severus found that this was much harder to do now than before.

He gazed outside at his garden. The past week with Pot- the boy kept replaying itself in his mind.

The boy’s stuttering, the flinches, the bruises.
Severus shaking him until his teeth rattled, dragging him, shoving him so hard the boy fell.
Severus closed his eyes against these scenes burying his fingers in them so that he wouldn’t have to see anymore.

Severus had paid none of it any mind. Not the dirty clothes, not the boy’s mumbling, nor his cowering. All he had seen had been James Potter.
James, uncaring about his appearance, James having no respect speaking to his elders, Potter plotting something to get Severus into trouble.

Severus hadn’t thought anything of the boy’s strange behaviour regarding the food. Hadn’t stopped to admit that sneezewort was on the sixth year curriculum and concede that the boy couldn’t have known about the ingredient.
Severus had made him work in the garden and the boy hadn’t complained once.
Severus had seen his hands earlier clutching at the woollen blankets when his teacher had entered the room and it was just another thing Severus felt guilty about.
Both the clutching and the state of the hands.
He had to remember to give the boy something for it the next time he saw him.

He didn’t like what now became apparent.
Severus realized that Potter had felt reluctant about disobeying him this past week. Severus had approved of this change writing it down to his threats finally having an effect on the headstrong boy. In school, Potter had never been at a loss for a cheeky comment or two. Here however…
All the times Severus had towered over the small boy and sneered down his nose at him came to his mind.
Where he always felt justified in the past, Severus now only saw a teacher abusing his power over one of his students.

You can’t expect me to-
-to what, Severus? To care at all about a boy, a student of yours, might I add?

The conversation with Dumbledore suddenly echoed in his ears.

More scenes flashed before Severus’ eyes: Potter lying on Severus’ carpet all twisted up in his sheets, disoriented as if having just woken up from a bad dream. Severus scolding him for it. Potter losing his balance upon hearing Severus scream at him and nearly being hit by the heavy branch he had been carrying.

Ben’s accusations hit a little bit too close to home at this memory.
Sure, Severus had never hit a child much less Potter, Dumbledore’s golden boy, but he had manhandled the boy on more than one occasion. And sure, he had surreptitiously given him a healing draught for his nose. A healing draught the boy wouldn’t have needed if it wasn’t for Severus throwing that book at him.

Potter had never said a word about the incident just as he hadn’t even flinched when the book hit him squarely on the nose. No, he had gulped down the pain Severus had seen clearly in his eyes and tried making out the words about a plant he couldn’t have known before through that hideous glasses of his.

What was the matter with the glasses?
Severus nearly pounced on the question, finally a somewhat safe one.
It wasn’t until this moment, that he realized that the boy hadn’t worn his round contraptions at all unless forced to this past week. Why?
Maybe the prescription had expired? Wouldn’t the boy’s relatives have taken him to see a doctor the second Potter started whining about his hurting eyes?
Severus thought back to his encounter with Potter’s aunt and uncle. For the first time, he felt doubts rising up inside his stomach when thinking about Potter’s relatives.
Besides, Potter hadn’t whined at all this past week even when faced with hard garden work and Severus’ unrelentingly harsh standards.

That brought him to another important question. A dangerous one this time.
When exactly had the boy injured himself?
He tried to think back to any strange behaviour and came up with the evening before when he called Potter inside for dinner.
The boy had struggled getting his feet under him. Severus had thought it was a ploy for attention, just the Potter brat’s latest display of poor work boy being exploited by his mean teacher.

Severus had hauled Potter towards the house and the boy stumbled.
At this point, Severus had been so furious with him that he hadn’t stopped to think, hadn’t noticed anything amiss.
Had the boy never gotten inside that evening? Had he misunderstood Severus’ admittedly overly strict command to clear away the garden tools and had waited in the shed?
Severus didn’t want to think about what must have gone through the boy’s mind.

He thinks you’ll use a belt to trash him.

Severus felt sick.
Unblinkingly he stared out of the dusty kitchen window.
The kettle startled whistling but Severus didn’t hear it.
He stood there for a long time, the ghosts of all his realizations about Potter haunting him.

His foot was injured, he could barely walk, but he run away from you!

Severus hadn’t even put up wards to alert him should Potter run away, so certain had he been that the boy wouldn’t try anything like that with him, wouldn’t have cause to do anything like that with Severus.
How wrong he had been. How wrong he had been about Pot- Harry. How many times had he wronged that boy- that child?

Harry is just a child.

His tea water had long since grown cold.

Severus had to apologise to the boy- Harry.
Puzzled, Severus found that he wanted to.