(Thank you to my beta, my super awesome friend, getcokeagain!)

Disclaimer: Clearly, I do not own Harry Potter.

...

"His hand, Draco?" Severus said, regarding his godson over the arch of his knuckles.

"Yes, Sev, his hand," Draco said, his sharp features twisted to an expression of reluctant concern, a concern he wished he wasn't feeling. He was worried about the Gryffindor Golden Boy. No, that was wrong. He was worried about Harry. "There were these…scabs. They looked new, fairly fresh. I think there were words, but I couldn't make them out. He was trying to hide it."

"Potter, with an injury he wishes to hide," Severus drawled. "Seems as if he may have acquired it in one of his ridiculous Gryffindor stunts, and is simply embarrassed to show that he is not, in fact, invincible. I would not concern yourself with it if I were you, Draco."

The young Slytherin was absolutely outraged. "Are you honestly going to hold on to those beliefs when you know, perfectly well, that you're wrong? Potter isn't the boy you have all these pre-conceived notions about, and you know it! You're too stubborn and too proud! I thought you'd already put your prejudices aside?"

Severus' eyes became sharp, and Draco ended his tirade, crossing his arms and shifting his weight nervously. "You would do well to watch your tone, little snake," the dark man warned. After a pause, he conceded, "No matter how correct you may be. I am aware that I was wrong about Mr. Potter, Draco, and I may still be allowing this image of James, the swine, to cloud my judgment. Though, yesterday evening while I was tutoring him, he revealed other aspects of his character that I was…severely incorrect about."

"Like what?" Draco asked, pale lips turning down at the edges.

"His relatives are not…satisfactory, in their treatment of him," Severus answered vaguely, but Draco was sharp.

"Do they hurt him, Sev?" he murmured. "Is it bad?"

"It is not good, Draco," Snape supplied. "It is an issue I will be addressing with the headmaster, as soon as I can get the Potter boy to cooperate with me. He is in a rather deep state of denial."

"Harry," Draco corrected, taking Severus off-guard. "His name is Harry, you know. If you're going to try and be friendly with him, you might as well call him by his name."

Severus, somewhat amused, recalled his interaction with the Gryffindor the previous night. "True, Draco, very true." He stood, putting a hand on his godson's shoulder in as comforting a gesture as he could manage. "I will speak with Harry about his hand. Do not fret. Now, I believe you should be getting to breakfast, should you not?"

The blond gave his godfather a fleeting smile, then turned and strode off, his shoulders back, his walk straight and tall, with purpose.

...

Severus watched the raven-haired teen at breakfast, a scowl on his already fierce features. The insufferable child had not touched his food. Severus had given him specific instruction to eat, at least two full meals a day, and so far, Potter had not partaken of a single morsel. It was highly irritating. For all of the qualities the boy no longer possessed in Snape's eyes, his persistent disobedience was not one of them. No, he was not entirely arrogant, and no, he was not spoiled, but it was true that Harry Potter did not listen to simple instructions! This, of course, could account for his abysmal potion brewing skills. Yet in the case of Potter not eating…something had to be done.

"Albus," the professor drawled conversationally. "It seems that Potter does not have a particularly ravenous appetite, as of late." He was sure to use his customary tone of disgust when speaking about Harry around the other professors, even Dumbledore. They were not yet aware of his improving relationship with the Gryffindor. He still wasn't entirely thrilled with learning that the headmaster had ignored the Golden Boy's plight for all these years. How had the old man turned a blind eye to the boy's horrid relatives and dangerous home life? Had he simply not cared at all? Severus was sickened by the thought.

"Oh?" Albus acknowledged lightly. "I hadn't noticed, Severus. Perhaps he's feeling a touch under the weather. Winter is starting to take hold, after all." The bearded wizard gave Severus a slight smile, his eyes twinkling infuriatingly behind his half-moon spectacles.

"Perhaps," Severus agreed off-handedly, turning his attention back to Potter. The child was absent-mindedly pushing his food around on his plate, decimating it with his fork, turning it into unrecognizable slop.

And that was what Harry Potter had become. Decimated. Unrecognizable. A shadow of his former self. And Severus Snape could not bear witness to it any longer.

...

"Harry?" Hermione's concerned voice prodded, gently. "Harry, you should really eat something."

"Yeah, mate," Ron muttered, eying the repulsive mixture on his best friend's plate. "I mean…what did the food ever do to you?"

"Huh?" Harry blinked his emerald eyes in confusion. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Ron and Hermione shared a look. "You're not eating," the bushy haired girl insisted.

"Again," the Weasley added simply.

"Oh," Harry responded dumbly, glancing down at the disaster on his plate, seeming shocked by the state his food was in. "I guess I'm just not hungry, or I'm distracted or something. Don't worry. I'll eat later."

"Harry…" Hermione started in again, but quickly closed her mouth as a shadow fell over the raven-haired boy. "Oh, good morning, Professor," the girl said hurriedly. Ron's lips were curled in displeasure, and he glowered at the figure behind Harry. The latter, curious, looked up. His eyes were met with the stoic yet irritated face of his least favorite professor.

"Mr. Potter," Snape drawled. "I do believe you've neglected to report to the morning detention I assigned you."

Harry was instantly on the defensive. His eyes sharpened and he turned in his seat to face Snape, his tone one of adolescent outrage. "But I didn't-!"

"Enough, Potter!" the dark man growled. "My office. Now." He grabbed the hood of Harry's robes and hauled him to his feet, giving him a light shove in the direction of the doors.

"Don't touch me!" Harry snapped, glaring sharply at Snape. He clenched his teeth, cheeks flushing lightly. The Great Hall had fallen silent, as student and teacher alike watched the altercation. Harry hated having all those eyes on him, studying him, judging him. He hated the spotlight. This time, or course, he'd brought it upon himself. And he could easily get himself out of it, this tense, awkward moment. Ducking his head, Harry hurried from the Great Hall. With a heavy, long-suffering sigh, Severus Snape followed him.

...

Severus' long strides easily allowed him to catch up with the moody Golden Boy, who was hastening down the corridor. He was headed toward the dungeons, so at least he was following instructions…for once. From his vantage point, slightly behind the child, Severus could easily see the tired angle of his shoulders, the way his robes hung off of his frame a little more loosely than usual. His frame itself was small, very small. He was certainly the smallest of the fifth year boys. There was no arguing that. Severus bitterly recalled James being rather tall, and dear Lily had been of average height. Potter's stature came down to ill-treatment.

And once again, Severus felt anger toward Albus Dumbledore, the man who had placed the boy with those insufferable, rotten muggles. The man who had sent him back there, year after year, for two months of summer holiday that were clearly unbearable for the boy. How could anyone condemn a child to such treatment? Even Severus was not that heartless.

The pair walked side by side, the entire trip silent except for the sound of their footsteps echoing off the stone floors. When they reached their destination, Severus opened the door to his office and stepped aside. "In, Potter," he said, and the boy obeyed. Severus closed the door and strolled past Harry, to the opposite end of the office, where he opened a second door and herded the Gryffindor through.

"Professor…?" Harry questioned, observing the dark but comfortable sitting room they had emerged in. The boy's anger seemed to have calmed. This was a relief to the potions professor, who knew there was still another battle ahead.

"These are my private quarters, Potter," the man enlightened him. "Sit." He gestured to a brown leather couch, positioned in front of a large fireplace next to a wing-backed armchair of the same material.

Harry sat, studying the rest of the room with unchecked curiosity. The walls were stone, but it didn't matter, as they could hardly be seen past the towering bookshelves that lined them. Contrary to what one might have expected of the personal chambers of the head of Slytherin house, there was no green and silver to be found. A small, round coffee table was positioned in front of the couch and armchair. Where there were breaks in the bookshelves, there were doors, presumably leading to other rooms of the chambers. Harry hadn't even realized Snape had left the room until he emerged from one of these doors. He strolled over and set a tray of simple breakfast foods on the coffee table. Toast, eggs, jam, grapes, and a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Eat," Severus instructed.

The Gryffindor looked up at him. "Professor…?" he asked again, sounding even more confused than before. "I thought you said I had detention. Which I know was a lie, but still…"

"Stop asking so many questions and eat, Potter," the man growled.

"It's Harry," the child reminded petulantly. "And I'm not hungry, Professor."

"Nonetheless, you foolish boy, you must eat," Snape scolded. "Do you not recall me instructing you to eat at least two meals a day?" He pointed at the tray. "Eat. I want the breakfast finished."

Harry studied the food for a moment before taking a piece of toast. He began with a small nibble, and then quickly devoured the sustenance. A second piece of toast followed, then the eggs, the grapes, and finally, the pumpkin juice. Severus sat in his chair and watched, bemused. "It seems you were hungry after all, Harry. Why did you not simply eat your breakfast in the Great Hall, with the other students?"

The boy's shoulders rose in a shrug. "I don't know, Professor. I just didn't feel much like eating, just then." Harry's chapped lower lip was captured between his teeth as his eyes flickered nervously to Snape. "I'm sorry, sir. For storming out like that yesterday. I suppose I just lost my temper, is all."

Severus' eyebrow rose. "Oh? I suppose you did, Harry." The boy flinched, and the professor sighed. "Don't let it trouble you, Harry. Admittedly, I understand. You have been through much." The man was disgusted by how awfully sentimental he was sounding. Still, though he was the dreaded greasy git of the dungeons, he was not inhuman. He knew this child, this mere boy who at an unbelievably young age had had a terrible destiny thrust upon him, was suffering. And Harry was not only James' son. He was Lily's. Severus had made a promise to Lily, and as he studied his student's troubled face, his repentant eyes, he saw more of the woman he'd loved in him than of his nemesis. He owed it to Lily to treat the boy well. And he owed it to Harry. The last thing this child needed was another enemy; to Severus, that was becoming clear as day.

Harry cast his eyes downward. "Thank you, Professor," he murmured. "I know you don't need to be this nice to me."

"But there is hardly a reason for cruelty, either, Harry," Severus said, so softly that his tone was almost gentle. He shuddered inwardly at the thought. He's Lily's son, he reminded himself.

Somehow, his words drew a small, slightly cheeky smile from the boy. "Be careful, Professor," he said. "You're almost starting to sound like a decent human being."

Severus scowled, though the expression wasn't really genuine. "Never again accuse me of such a thing, Harry. I will never be a decent human being. You would do well to accept that now."

The raven-haired boy looked stunned for a moment, and then burst into uproarious laughter. Truly, Severus was sure he'd never heard Harry laugh so genuinely, not even with Weasley and Granger, not even when those miscreant twins ran amuck with one of their disruptive-yet, admittedly, rather clever-practical jokes. "You…you just made a joke, Professor!" Harry gasped through his chuckles. "I…I never thought I would hear you make a joke!"

"Despite popular belief, I do have a soul, child," Snape said dryly. He waited for Harry's laughter to die down before broaching the next subject of discussion.

"Let me see your hand," he ordered, without preamble. For a moment, the Gryffindor tensed. Then he offered his right hand, showing pale, clean flesh. "The other hand, Harry," Severus coaxed, and sure enough, his student hesitated. Finally, he extended his arm, pulling back the sleeve of his robe to expose his left hand. The appendage was wrapped painstakingly with white gauze. Miss Granger's work, surely. Severus knew the boy was far too stubborn to go and see Pomfrey for anything short of a fatal wound. Carefully, the head of Slytherin took hold of Harry's hand and removed the gauze, unwinding it, layer by layer. He set the bandaging on the coffee table before turning to study the injured hand that Draco had seemed so very concerned about.

I must not tell lies.

Anger welled up inside of Severus, but he controlled it well, filing it away to be dealt with later. At this moment, Harry was of the most importance. The child had bowed his head, messy black hair shadowing his eyes.

"Harry," Severus said, coaxingly. "Who did this to you?"