kbinnz - Harry's New Home

And what about the owner of the room? He wouldn't be pleased to have some interloper staying in his bed, possibly playing with his toys. Even if he weren't like Dudley, who seemed to feel that his things were soiled beyond repair if Harry so much as glanced at them, he was unlikely to want someone else to be living in his room, with his things. And if he were like DudleyтАж Some of Harry's worst punishments had come after Dudley had claimed that Harry had broken, touched, or played with his toys. It didn't matter if Harry had been in another room entirely when it happened, his aunt and uncle had always taken Dudley's words at face value.

Harry hoped that Professor Snape might be a little more fair if such a thing happened here тАУ at least waiting to hear Harry's side of the story before automatically punishing him тАУ but it would be much, much better to avoid the problem in the first place.

"Please, sir," Harry gulped. He didn't want to seem ungrateful. Ungrateful people were the very worst тАУ and they often didn't get fed for a long, long time. "Couldn't I just sleep on the couch like I did last night? It was really comfortable. I don't need a bed."

Snape couldn't believe the brat. Was he really so spiteful that he'd prefer to sleep on a couch than a bed, just to show how utterly disdainful he was of Snape's efforts to please him?

"And if I don't wish to have a snoring urchin in my living room?" he snarled, barely managing to restrain his temper. Only the thought of Albus' reaction if he bodily flung the little wretch from his quarters prevented him from doing so.

Oh. Of course. Harry felt stupid. Like anyone would want an orphan smack in the middle of their quarters. "Er, well, I really don't need a room like this," he said, fidgeting. "I mean, if you've got a storage room or clos-" He never got to finish the sentence, because Snape grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a shake.

"Closet?" the professor demanded furiously. "Were you about to say closet?" At Harry's wide eyed nod, the professor shook him again. "How dare you suggest that I am like those dreadful relatives of yours, Potter! Do you actually imagine I would lock a child away like some disused cleaning supplies?" Snape couldn't remember the last time he had been this angry. Even the Weasley twins sabotaging the Slytherin tower's showers, turning his entire House green, paled by comparison. This little brat was informing him that he preferred those Muggles' cupboard over Snape's best attempt at a lavish bedroom? Such outrageous disrespect wasтАж positively Slytherin.

Harry stared at Professor Snape in shock. He was almost as mad as when Harry had gone after the remembrall. But what had Harry done? All he had said тАУ oh. He had suggested that a closet was good enough for him. The professor had made it very clear that the Dursleys were awful people because they hadn't treated Harry properly. Harry deserved better. And yet here he was, acting like it was okay if he were shoved in a closet. The Dursleys would never have treated Dudley like that, and Professor Snape had said that Harry deserved to be treated at least as well as Dudley. At least.

The professor must think he was awfully dumb. He kept forgetting. He kept acting like what the Dursleys had told him was right, even though Professor Snape must have told him otherwise about a million times. No wonder he was angry.

Of course, this also meant that the professor still cared about him. Oh, obviously not as much as he cared about his real boy, the one to whom this magnificent room belonged, but quite a lot all the same. Harry's heart leapt a little. He really liked that the professor got so furious whenever Harry acted as if he didn't matter. It was such a clear indication that Harry did matter. To him. At least a little bit.

"'M sorry," he mumbled, casting down his eyes to hide the relief in them. "I just didn't want to get in trouble for touching anything."

Snape's ire was checked as the words penetrated. "What? Why would you get in trouble for that?"

Harry kept his eyes down and lifted one shoulder in a shrug, a habit Snape had already learned to detest. "He might not like me touching his things."

"Who?"

"Your son."

Snape's legs nearly gave out from under him. What? Was the brat delusional? Did he have a split personality to speak of himself in the third person? "Potter, what in Merlin's name are you talking about?"

Harry looked up at him in confusion. "Your son. The boy whose room this is. Or is it your nephew? I just think he probably wouldn't want me to stay here. I mean, it's got all his stuff, and he might not like it. I wouldn't touch anything," he added swiftly, "but he тАУ he might think I had. Like if I moved something while I was cleaning. And then he might get mad," he ended, swallowing hard.

Snape stared at the boy. As usual, Harry's emotions were written large upon his features. Longing, envy, lost hope, dread, apprehensionтАж He had obviously been accused of "touching something" in the past тАУ at the Muggles', clearly тАУ and the outcome had scarred him. Probably literally. Snape ground his teeth again, but now the rage was no longer directed at the boy in front of him, but at those bloody Muggles to whom a visit was long overdue.

For now, though, he had several misconceptions to clear up. "Potter. I do not have a son, nor a nephew, nor a cousin, nor any other type of blood relative. I have a ward. You," he pointed out. The boy was a Gryffindor, after all.

Harry stared at the man in confusion. So the professor was alone, as Harry had somehow guessed. But then why was this brilliant room here?

"This room," Snape went on, ignoring the guilt that stabbed at him for his earlier misconceptions, "is yours. I created it тАУ with the help of the house elves," he added grudgingly, "- for you. It has never belonged to anyone else. It is yours." He repeated that point, as the boy's shocked expression suggested he was having trouble with the concept. "The things in this room all belong to you. No one else. You are supposed to touch them."

But now the boy was shaking his head desperately, and his hands were tightly clenched before him, as if he were frightened that they would betray him in some way. "No, sir. No. They're not mine. I never even saw them before. You must have made a mistake, sir. Maybe they belong to one of the other boys in the dorm. Please, sir, I never touched them."

Great. The brat was becoming hysterical. Idiot Gryffindor. Unable to make the slightest deduction and panicking at the thought of Snape having furnished his room with unwittingly stolen goods.

Snape pulled the boy over to the bed with him and sat down, ignoring the magical hippogriffs' annoyed roars. He positioned the trembling boy between his knees and looked him straight in the eye. "Potter. I will say this slowly, so try to follow," he snapped, squirming internally at what he was about to reveal. "The things in this room are yours. They тАУ stop shaking your head, you foolish child! тАУ belong to you, because I purchased them for you."

Harry froze. He couldn't possibly have heard that correctly.

"Yes," Snape continued. "I created this room for you and I purchased these things for you. A boy should have his own things. The fact that those unnatural relatives didn't provide you with the basic necessities of life like food and clothing, let alone things appropriate for a growing boy тАУ such as books and educational toys to stimulate the mind тАУ in no way informs my behavior. You saw the Weasleys' home. You saw all the things their children have, despite their extremely limited means. Did you imagine that I would treat you as poorly as those Muggles did? You are my ward, Potter. You will be treated as the important, deserving child that you are. Children are to be treasured, Potter. Your treatment here will reflect that." Oh, Merlin, if Albus ever heard him say such nauseating pap he would never hear the end of it. He'd be Head of Hufflepuff by the end of the day if he kept this up, but the boy needed to hear it. The books all said so.