kbinnz - Harry's New Home

Vernon and Petunia always punished him with a gloomy assurance that all efforts on their part were futile; Harry was destined to come to a sticky end, and while they might be able to delay the inevitable with sound spankings, the final result would still be the same. It lent a sort of dreadful conviction to their scoldings, and a grim satisfaction to their forceful swats. They were doing their duty, but Harry was Doomed.

By contrast, Professor Snape expected Great Things from Harry, including (but not limited to) good grades, excellent conduct reports, and ever-increasing magical knowledge. When he scolded Harry or тАУ reluctantly тАУ punished him, he made it clear he was doing it because he felt Harry was not living up to his potential. Harry had never before been told that he had any potential beyond growing up to be a drunken wastrel, and he was determined to prove Snape right and his relatives wrong. He also desperately wanted to be a good ward and not give Snape any reason to regret accepting his role as guardian.

And yet, despite his good intentions, once again he had stuffed it up.

Harry sniffled. He hated that he had upset his professor, on this night of all nights. He had only been trying not to spoil Professor Snape's Halloween, and yet what had he done? He'd ruined the Feast for all the faculty, risked his best friends' lives, gotten Ron smacked for lying, nearly been bludgeoned to death by a trollтАж Harry tried to muffle his sobs. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to stay out of trouble, and for it to happen when he was trying so, so hard not to be a burden just made it ten times worse.

#-#-

After punishing the boys, Snape exited Harry's bedroom and made a beeline for his stockroom. After downing two Calming Draughts in rapid succession, he finally felt like his normal self. That atrocious brat! Was he trying to get himself killed? And then, having practically caused Snape to have a heart attack, he had recovered in the blink of an eye тАУ to the point where he and that redheaded menace, who had attached himself to Snape, were sniggering instead of being pale with dread at their upcoming punishment!

And then he had to heal Weasley's backside and тАУ since of course no one else would do it тАУ make arrangements for the little snot to get a functional wandтАж Would the indignities never cease? It wasn't as if he would allow Harry's best friend to wander around unarmed, not after he had overheard Hermione telling Minerva that Harry had encouraged the other two to flee while he held off the troll in a desperate rearguard action.

A troll. At 11 years old, the brat was willing to take on a full grown TROLL in order to protect his friends. Could anyone possibly wonder why he wouldn't permit Weasley to go without a wand? When Harry's overdeveloped sense of protectiveness was already so hyperactive?

Why was Snape even saddled with the youngest Weasley? McGonagall should never have entrusted not one but two of her precious lions to the Evil Bat of the Dungeons, unless she тАУ like the little whelps themselves тАУ had decided that there was nothing to worry about. He'd known this would happen. His reputation was in tatters and all too soon his classroom would be too, as there was no longer anything to hold back the cretinous students' dangerous misbehavior.

He smirked as he recalled the look on the Weasley brat's face when he had heard that he was forbidden all sweets for a week. Hmmm. Perhaps that would be enough to ensure the redhead still thought of him as a "greasy git", after all.

Oddly, he hadn't found withholding Harry's beloved broom to be as satisfying as he had expected. Indeed, he'd felt the oddest pang when the brat's face had fallen. It was probably just a consequence of his earlier panicked flight through the castle тАУ a delayed settling of his heart rate or some such. It wasn't as if the brat didn't deserve it, just as he'd deserved those smacks.

Snape squirmed uncomfortably when he thought of the smacks. Yes, the boy had earned the spanking - Harry knew full well that he had broken the rules and the books were unanimous on the need for consistent consequences - but Snape hadn't meant to swat the brat so hard. It was just that he'd been so frightened by the danger to which the little monster's heedlessness had exposed himтАж Severus wondered if he should sneak into the boy's bedroom and apply some bruise balm to his rump while he slept. Weasley was doubtless fine but Harry was so scrawnyтАж And being struck so harshly had surely further eroded his sense of security. Hadn't he promised the boy that he wouldn't strike him hard enough to hurt? And then had promptly turned around and broken his word.

He shook his head. Albus was insane. There was no way he could do this. Dumbledore was just going to have to find a new guardian. Someone who could control their temper and wouldn't keep traumatizing the boy.

Severus rose to his feet, determined to check on the brat. If the boy were asleep тАУ having doubtless cried himself to sleep тАУ he would floo Albus at once. If Potter were still awake, he'd force him to take a mixture of healing potion and Dreamless Sleep, then contact the Headmaster.

No sooner had he entered the room than his worst fears were realized. Weasley lay on one bed, snoring loudly, while in the other Harry wept near-silent tears into his pillow. Feeling a crushing weight of guilt settle upon his shoulders, Snape walked over to the boy and tapped him on the back.

Harry startled violently, and Snape swore at what he interpreted as a terrified cringe. "Come with me, Potter," he whispered. "You'll wake Weasley."

Harry sniffled and clambered reluctantly out of bed. How could he face Professor Snape after everything he'd done? His professor was so good to him, even checking on him to make sure he could sleep! Harry felt deeply ashamed for the lies he had told.

"Sit there, Potter," Snape ordered once they emerged back into the sitting room. "I'm going to fetch a potion for you."

Harry looked up at him in surprise. "I don't need a potion," he argued, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes.

Snape huffed. "Use a handkerchief, you ill-mannered child!" He accio'd one and handed it over.

Harry honked and mopped. "Sorry," he mumbled. "But I don't need a potion."

"If you cannot sleep because you are frightened or in pain, then you most certainly do require a potion, foolish brat!" Snape retorted, hiding his guilt behind an angry tone.

Harry was confused. Why would his professor think he would be frightened or in pain? "But I'm not."

"Oh, no? Then why exactly were you sobbing into your pillow?" Snape demanded.

Harry colored. "I wasn't sobbing," he defended himself.

"Obviously you are still overwrought from tonight's events," Snape declared. "If you are too sore to sit, lie down on your stomach on the sofa while I тАУ"

"Too sore?" Harry echoed blankly. "Why would I тАУ oh. No, I'm okay. Honest. You didn't smack that hard. I mean, yeah, my bum stung for a little. But it's fine now."

"You are not fine, and I do not appreciate being lied to. You are obviously very upset about something," Snape scowled. "What is it?"

Harry dropped his gaze, and his eyes filled with tears again. The professor was so nice to him! He didn't deserve it.

"Potter!" Despite the Potion Master's furious tone, the fingers that lifted Harry's chin were gentle. "You will tell me this instant, or you will deeply regret your intransigence."

Harry sniffled and smiled all at the same time. It felt so good to have someone worry about him, and all the professor's fuming and fussing didn't hide his obvious concern. "I'm sorry."

"About what in particular? There are so many things to which you could be referring, you'll need to be more specific," Snape drawled, but his brow was still creased with worry.