When Harry woke up, he immediately knew it was going to be an absolutely terrible day.
The absolutely terrible day started off with him jerking awake from a nightmare, the going away present that Uncle Vernon had given him still fresh in his mind. He came awake with a start and a fine tremble going through his limbs.
Harry took a few quick breaths, trying to calm himself. Each breath sent little shocks of pain through his back, the feeling like lemon juice in a paper cut, emanated from the open welts on his back.
Harry sighed heavily once his breathing had slowed to a healthier pace, before he gingerly pushed himself up off his bed and to his feet. He stood shakily, his legs still heavy from sleep.
His shirt pulled lightly at the barely growing scabs on his back and Harry hissed at the sensation. Stupid uncle Vernon, the fat pig!
He made his way over to the communal washroom, grateful that he had woken up so early because it meant that he would have the showers to himself. He didn't want his dorm mates to see the products of his uncle's rage.
They also all hogged the shower, even Neville.
Harry stepped into the farthest shower stall, hissing through clenched teeth as the hot water pattered against his back. He grabbed his soap, being careful not to jar his wrist as he did.
Once he had finished washing himself, dressed in his slightly oversized school robe and dried his hair with a quick charm, he exited out of the dorm, grabbing his school bag as he did and making his way down into the common room.
He sat himself down on his regular armchair, one of the ones that faced right towards the crackling fire. Harry reached for his bag, taking out his unfinished charms homework. He was working on the Aguamenti spell, and he was having little trouble with it.
He worked silently on his parchment, listening to the crackling fire until Hermione and Ron made their ways down their separate staircases. The redhead’s hair still rumpled from sleep, and Hermione toting around way more books than she could feasibly need for one day of lessons.
Harry heaved himself out of the armchair and followed his friends out of the portrait hole and down to the great hall. They sat down at the Gryffindor table, making small talk as they ate.
“We have Potion’s right after breakfast and charms after that, you both have your books with you right?” Hermione asked, her schedule in one hand and her fork in the other.
Harry nodded at her as he picked at his muffin, feeling less than enthusiastic at the prospect of having potions first thing in the morning.
Ron seemed to feel the same way if his very vocal complaints about ‘The stupid greasy git’ had to say anything.
“What do you reckon he’ll do today?” Ron said, once he finished complaining about the professor.
Harry's stomach dropped at the question; he had no idea why the potions professor hated him so much but at this point he had pretty much given up figuring out what he had done to earn his ire. It was only his second year at Hogwarts, but Harry didn't know how much more of the man's presence he could take.
“I dunno Ron, he’ll probably be mean again though” Harry said softly “he's always mean”.
The dread that Harry always felt before each potions class grew as the group of three made their ways down into the dungeons. They entered the dreary classroom along with the rest of the Gryffindor and Slytherin first years, making their way to their seats.
Once everyone was seated, a small wave of magic pulsed through the classroom. It hadn’t seemed to do anything at first but when one of the Gryffindors tried to stand up and investigate, she found that she couldn't get out of her seat.
Before the room could dissolve into chaos the door slammed open, banging against the stone wall. A very irate looking Professor Snape stormed into the room, a wooden crate that clinked with every step, in his arms.
His robe billowed behind him as he made his way down the middle of the room to his desk, where he slammed the crate down on it.
“Be quiet you Dunderheads” Snape as the murmuring from the students increased. Harry tensed in his seat at the professor's tone. The man sounded angry.
“The headmaster, in his infinite wisdom, has decided, that in the name of ‘House unity’” Snape drawled sarcastically “that I am to give you each a bit of the potion I have here” he reached into the crate, pulling out a glass vial filled with a shimmery brown potion.
Every child in the room burst out in protest, except harry. He slouched even deeper into his uncomfortable chair, wishing that he could be anywhere else.
Professor Snape ignored the sounds of protest, continuing to explain the potion.
“It is called The Chalo-Tuus-Os potion and it is a minor truth potion.”
The classroom was filled with even louder protests.
“Quiet down you idiots” Snape demanded sharply, silencing the yells of his students.
Harry flinched sharply at the professor's tone, ignoring the concerned look Hermione shot at him.
“I don't want to hear about your personal lives, about as much as you don't want to tell it, but the esteemed headmaster insisted”.
Harry tried in vain to calm his breathing as he listened to Professor Snape talk. He didn't want to have a panic attack in potions class, didn't want to be a freak in front of everyone.
“The potion will make you blurt out simple things, but it gains more power if the participant is injured, mentally or physically” Snape said impatiently (Damn it, Harry was both of those things!) “I will take turns administering the correct dose to you all, one at a time.”
‘Fuckfuckfuck, why did these things have to happen to him? What if they asked about the Dursley’s, or the cupboard? They can't know they can’tknowTHEYCAN’TKNOWTHEYCAN’T!’
“Potter!” Professor Snape barked out, zeroing in on Harry's shaky form. Harry looked up at the man as he strode towards his desk “Why don't you go first” Snape drawled out.
The words were phrased like a question, but they were clearly anything but.
Harry's mind was going fuzzy, the organ shutting down under the bulk of his fear and stress. His mind was going blank and his mouth on auto pilot as he shut himself away inside his mind.
When he did this, it was like locking himself inside an imaginary closet and locking the door tight from the inside.
“Yes, that's fine, Sir,” Harry replied automatically, barely even hearing his own words.
The professor looked surprised for a brief moment before his face went blank once again. He sneered down at the boy, pulling the stopper out of the vial. The earthy smell of cinnamon and rain drifted into Harry's nose, causing it to wrinkle up slightly, like a bunnies.
Professor Snape tilted Harry's head up with a hand, nudging his mouth open before pouring the potion into his mouth.
Harry swallowed on reflex, not even tasting the potion as it went down.
A warm weight settled over his thoughts as the potion took effect, making his thoughts flow even slower than before.
“Alright class, what questions should I ask our ‘esteemed’ mister Potter” Snape asked the rest of the students sarcastically.
“Ask him what he's most scared of!” a random Slytherin piped up after the class took a few moments to think of what to ask. The class voiced their agreement and professor Snape turned back to Harry, very clearly decided on what he was going to ask.
“Alright then mister Potter, what are you the most afraid of?”
Harry was afraid of a lot of things. He was scared every single day, and while he had killed a troll, burned a man alive with his bare hands, there was something -someone- that would always scare him more than anything else ever would, so he didn't hesitate to answer.
“Uncle Vernon,” Harry replied dazedly. He continued looking up at his professor, silently cursing his small size. He hated being smaller than everyone else. Stupid Dursleys.
Confusion rippled throughout the classroom at Harry's answer. Snape looked slightly stunned by his answer and Harry couldn't bring himself to care about anything at the moment. Anything he said right now would be a problem for future Harry.
“And why mister Potter, do you fear your ‘Uncle Vernon’?” Professor Snape asked, his face carefully neutral.
“Cause he hurts me” Harry replied, his voice slurring.
Silence permeated the room, the children silent in their seats for once in their lives.
There was an unknown emotion playing its way through Snape's eyes as he stared down at his smallest student.
“He… hurts you?” Professor Snape questioned slowly, his voice low.
“Mhmm, he likes hurtin’ me!” Harry replied, nodding jerkily “He says he has to punish the Freak”
The emotion within the professor's eyes was stronger now, his mouth thinning as he turned to address the rest of the class, the class who were looking at the interaction between teacher and student with so many different emotions displayed on their faces. Confusion, pity, and vague horror.
“Class dismissed” Professor Snape ordered loudly, waving his wand and unsticking everyone from their benches. “Except for you Potter” he said in a much lower tone.
Harry nodded again, even more shakily than his last. The class filtered out of the room, Hermione and Ron shooting worried looks at their friend, their friend who was too out of it to notice.
Once the room had emptied completely, Professor Snape dragged one of the room's benches to rest in front of Harry's own and sat down heavily.
“I have some questions for you now that we are alone, if you are up to answering” He stated, looking like he would rather be doing anything else.
Harry nodded.
“First, does anyone other than your uncle hurt you?” Harry nodded in reply.
“Are you hurt right now?” Another nod.
The man sighed deeply, cradling his head in his hands, dark hair draping down around his face. He sighed again as he lifted his face to look at his student, a student who he thought was living a charmed life until today.
The boy was just sitting there like he didn't have a care in the world, like he hadn't just told an entire classroom that his uncle hurt him. He just sat there with dazed eyes and an absent smile on his face.
“Where are you hurt?” he asked.
“My back, my side and my wrist” He answered, without a care, before scrunching his nose “and ma’ head feels funny”
“Alright” Professor Snape said, now sounding slightly frantic “come on, stand up, we are going to the hospital wing”
Harry did not want to stand up. His legs felt like they weren't actually attached to his body and his mind was swimming. Harry didn't know what it was swimming in, but it was definitely swimming.
He looked down at the floor and then at his legs, then back up at his professor before he did something that he knows for sure will mortify him later.
“Cant, ma’ legs are sleepy” Harry said, reaching his arms up and making grabby hands at his professor “can you carry me?”
Snape looked down at him blankly for a long moment, before he looked skywards and muttered something along the lines of “Goddammit Potter.” under his breath. Sighing, he bent, putting his arms underneath Harrys, lifting him up, being careful not to jostle the child and setting him against his chest.
Harry wrapped his skinny arms around his professor's neck, being careful with his wrist and setting his head against the chest under him. The man was surprisingly warm, and the steady beat of his heart was soothing to harry.
Harry hummed contentedly and focused on the back-and-forth motions of Professor Snape’s strides. There wasn't any chatter going on around as the duo made their way up to the hospital wing, just the sound of a single set of footsteps and Harry's own soft raspy breaths.
When they reached the hospital wing, Snape made his way over to one of the hospital cots. He set Harry down gently on the covers, the boy whining softly at the loss of contact.
“Poppy” Professor Snape said, calling out towards the hospital matrons office “I require some assistance in here”
Within a minute, Madam Pomfrey bustled her way out of her office and hurried towards the cot Harry was on.
“What happened?” she questioned, already waving her wand over the small boy.
“The exercise that Albus had me doing, revealed some worrying things about mister Potter's home life, and he admitted to still being injured” Snape replied. Madam Pomfrey’s face did something complicated, her brows furrowed.
“Alright then, Harry dear” she said, looking the small boy in the eyes “can you change into a gown for me?”
“Yup” Harry chirped dazedly, his eyes focusing on the women standing next to his bed, when before they had been drifting aimlessly around the room.
Madam Pomfrey summoned a light green hospital gown with a flick of her wand, handing it to Harry, before sweeping the curtained divider closed “just open the curtain when you're done.”
Harry lifted himself off the cot with unsteady hands, setting his feet on the floor. He undressed quickly, shucking off his robe and replacing it with the thin hospital gown.
The green fabric fell down a good way past his knees, brushing the middle of his calves. Harry hated being short, he wanted to be tall goddammit! He huffed to himself as he pulled the curtain open and climbed back onto the bed.
Exhaustion hit him like a blow from Aunt Petunia's frying pan to the head. He hadn't slept well in weeks and the potion wasn't helping him stay awake. He wanted to sleep, why couldn't he just go to sleep?
A confused noise left his mouth, getting the attention of his dower professor. The man moved to stand right next to the head of the bed, catching one of Harry's small hands in his own.
“What's wrong?” the man asked, his voice taking on the softest tone Harry had ever heard from the man. The dulcet tones soothing something in Harry's brain. No adult had ever talked to him in a tone like that. All words directed at Harry were either awed, disgusted, indifferent or angry. The awed words had only appeared once he entered the wizarding world.
Harry really liked the way Snape was talking all soft. He liked it a lot.
“Mm tired” harry said fighting to keep his eyes open “I wanna sleep.”
“Then go to sleep Harry, I'll still be here when you wake up.”
If Harry were lucid, he would have been startled by how the professor had used his first name. Not a speck of his usual anger in his tone.
“Mkay'' he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut, before they snapped back open at a sudden thought “do… do i hav’ to go back ta’ them?”
Snape frowned at the question, disliking how his student voice had taken on such a distressed tone. He held the boy's hand a little a little tighter.
“No, you won't” He assured “I'll do everything in my power to make sure you will not have to go back to those horrid people” the promise caused the stings of his oath to resonate in his chest, humming in contentment.
Severus Snape knew he would have too now. He would hold himself to the oath he made to Dumbledore twelve years ago.
“Mkay, I believe ya, Fesser’” harry slurred out, his eyes finally shutting completely “ima sleep now.”
“That's fine” Snape murmured, rubbing his potion-stained thumb over the back of a small hand “sleep well, little one.”
And maybe everything else would be fine too.