Chapter Text
Harry spent 10 months in Hogwarts. The first thing he noticed after getting back to Dursleys was how fast he got used to the full three meals he had back there. The second thing was a comfortable mattress on his bed in the Gryffindor tower. The third and last thing was how much his family really hated him, but they didn't wait long to remind him about this one. He got his first meal one week into summer break. His first all night sleep was a week later only because his body finally gave up. And the hatred was there everyday.
Three weeks into his summer and only one night without nightmares to say Harry was exhausted wasn't enough. His body ached all over. Thoughts filled with images of his defense teacher dying from his hands. Since that day Harry was terrified to touch someone bare skinned. He was glad he and his friend weren't that close yet, no accidental touch could happen. And his relatives.. Well that's obvious. If he had to be honest he was scared to go back to school, what if something like that happens again? What if this time it isn't someone with a dark lord on the back of their head but another student? Even the thought of it sends shivers down his spine. Does that mean he's a freak even in the wizarding world? Why did no one tell him why that happened and how to prevent that from happening again?
Have they already written him off? Harry didn't even know if he could possibly go back to school after that, they surely would tell him if he was getting expelled.
Groening with headache, Harry turned onto his side trying to curl up as tightly as possible. Too many questions with no answer, the anxiety slowly creeping her way into his mind.
“Boy!” A loud voice brought him back to reality. He got up quickly and for a moment the room seemed to spin. He didn't have time to worry about that, if he was too slow they would lock him up in his room again and he couldn't have that. He was too hungry to get punished for being too slow.
“Yes, Uncle Vernon?” With head tilted back he looked his uncle in the eyes.
“Your aunt and I are taking Dudley to the funfair, and because i dont want to find my house in a ruin when I get back, you're going to stay in your old room. Understood?” Even though the sentence ended with a question, he didn’t give Harry a choice; he grabbed him by the arm and yanked him towards the cupboard under the stairs. Harry let out a pained yelp when his arm twisted at the awkward position due to their difference in height. He knew his uncle did this on purpose because when he tried to match his step he suddenly raised his arm even higher. Stupid, fat git.
It's been almost a year since he was locked in the cupboard and the space hasn't changed at all. The only noticeable difference was the amount of dust. The space didn't even feel smaller, how was this even possible. Harry was not that stupid. He knew why. But that didn't make this better. He looked at the broken army figures, the night he got them he was feeling like he belonged with them. A soldier. Brave man. Senaking out of his cupboard to rummage through the bin and save his fellow soldiers from death after Dudley threw them there hours earlier. That was the first time he decided he wanted to go to the army when he grew up.
Deep down he still wanted to be a soldier, the thing was, he didn't feel brave anymore. After his encounter with Quirrell it dawned on him that he wasn't brave enough, let alone strong enough. He still hoped that one day he would be.
And that's how the rest of his summer went. Hungry, Tired and in pain. Now, one week before school starts. The day before he got his first letter this summer. It was from Dumbledore, someone would come and get him for the rest of the break. He didn't tell who but Harry was happy regardless. No more aunt Petunia. No more uncle Vernon. No more cousin Dudley. At least this year.
The sky was getting darker with every passing minute. He didn't know what time they would pick him up but it couldn't be much longer. The Doorbell rang. Harry, who was waiting with his trunk by the door, opened them almost in the same second.
“Professor Snape?” His smile dropped immediately, changing into disgust. This wasn't the person he was expecting, he wasn't really expecting anyone in particular but if he was it wouldn't be Snape.
“Potter” Potion master hovered over him with a similar expression. This had to be a mistake. Dumbledore told the wrong person or maybe he sent an owl and she made a mistake. He didn't care how that happened; this had to be a mistake. Harry moved his hand trying to close the door but Snape blocked them with his hand.
“What do you think you're doing Potter.?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Closing the door.” Trying to close them again but Snape never took his hand off the door.
“I don't have time for your games, Potter, take your things and let's get moving” This time he took the hand off only to put it back again when Harry didn't move, the other hand pinching his nose “Lets go Potter.” He put more force into his voice.
“Yes professor.” This time he listened and grabbed his trunk and the empty cage and set off after his professor. Harry didn't know why he decided to listen.
After a while Harry had no idea where they were going. Did they really have to walk by foot? Long ago he learned not to complain too much but his shoes were at least one size too small and his feet didn't take it well. He grimaced. The trunk was heavy. The cage was uncomfortable to hold and the shoes rubbed his heels and squeezed his toes. That walk was everything but comfortable. Harry tried really hard to keep up with Snape but the older man's legs were freakishly long.
“Potter don’t dwadle.” Harry was getting angry. It’s late, he was still hungry, the pain was getting unbearable, and he had to drag a heavy trunk. If anything he should slow down after all, he was the adult here. Stupid, tetchy git.
“I don’t dwadle.” He quickened his steps whilst gritting his teeth. “Where are we going?” He plucked the courage to ask the question that had been nagging him ever since they left his relatives house.
“Wouldnt you like to know Potter.” That’s it. The man didn't say anything else. And yes, Harry very much wants to know, isn't that the point of asking questions? Couldn't this man be any more of a git. Could someone remind him again why Dumbledore thought sending Snape is a good idea?
Getting to their destination took them a few more minutes. An abandoned house, at least that's how it looked from the outside, not even one light was on, the grass and weeds had grown tall, if his aunt saw this she would have an instant heart attack. Snape gave him a sign to wait and went through the door. Harry felt a little uneasy now that he was alone, he didn't like standing in front of a creepy house with nothing but a street lamp, too many shadows and you can never know what hides in them. Not that he was ever watched by someone in the shadows but let’s be real he is a twelve year old kid it's not too unreal that he's scared of the dark, besides you can never be too sure.
Right now he definitely felt watched so he decided to stand closer to the house just in case. It was obvious that it was just his mind playing tricks on him but again you can never be too sure. Harry was getting nervous when the professor wasn't coming back, he immediately slapped himself, he's not a little baby that gets scared when left alone. What did the man even need from a place like this? Harry jumped a little when the door cracked open. Snape took out his wand and pointed it at his belongings, second later the trunk and cage were shrunk. He turned his head to look at his professor with disbelief. He could do this since the beginning, but he didn't, he enjoyed watching him struggle.
“Grab my arm.” Snape held out his hand. “This will be unpleasant, try not to throw up” Without a chance to respond. Harry felt his life getting squeezed out of him. He felt like someone tried to suck him through the straw. He couldn't catch his breath which caused the wave of dizziness. It felt like Dudley sitting on him when he tried to escape but ten times worse. The feeling ended just as quickly as it began which made him stumble on his feet. It's a good thing he was still holding onto Snape. Letting go of the older man's robes Harry took a deep breath trying to calm his heart. Since when was he this weak? He looked around the neighborhood, the surly weren't in Little Whining anymore, even with the night sky and a few orange street lights Harry could easily see how depressing all the houses here were. It became clear why Snape always looked unhappy, no one would be happy in the neighborhood like that. Who would want to smile when they live in a place like this. Harry knew he shouldn't be judging someone else's living situations taking into account that he lived in a cupboard. Under the stairs. So was Snape poor or just stingy? How much did the professors at Hogwarts make anyway?
“Come on Potter, unless you want to spend the whole night outside” A little hesitant he entered the house behind Snape. If Harry thought the outside was ugly the inside was even worse. He didn't take himself for a person to judge someone's house but being a good person was getting harder the more he saw.
“This house is amazing, professor, do you spend a lot of time here?” He knew. He knew that he probably shouldn't make fun of his teacher he really did but this awkward silence made him nervous and he just kept it coming.”It sure does like it. That couch?” He pointed a finger at the couch in front of a wall full of books "awesome, really, you must love it as well looking how it's all worn out and all, I bet it is so comfortable.” Shut up. Shut up. Shut up Potter. He took his shoes off and looked around.
“You have a lot of books, have you read them all?” Harry prayed to every god he could remember, for Snape to interrupt him already. Why is he letting him go on and on like this?
“Are they about poisons or do you have some romance in here as well? I would assume you don't read fantasy looking at the fact-” Finally.
“Potter shut up already or I'm going to leave you outside” Harry took a deep sign. He was scared that the Professor would let him talk without the end and Harry could talk a lot all the more so when he was nervous. Snape put his thing away and left the living room without a word, he stood there for a little longer. He didn't know if he had to follow him or wait but quickly decided going after him was a better option. The only door in this room led to the small kitchen; at the end of it was a spiral staircase. Every step creaked beneath his feet and he was worried that they wouldn't be able to bear his weight. The second floor, lit by a few candles, was a long narrow corridor with four pairs of doors, at the end of it, by the small window stood Snape. Room doors were already open. He stopped next to Snape and looked inside. Harry was surprised to find that this room was bigger than the one on Privet Drive. Judging by the size of the other rooms, he assumed this one wouldn’t be much bigger either.
“Well? Get inside and take your trunk out.” Severus said inpatient. Harry stepped hesitantly over the threshold of the room; in the centre stood a bed, very similar to the one at Hogwarts; to his right was a small window, beneath which stood a dark desk; to his left stood a two-door wardrobe and empty bookshelves; the floor by the bed was covered with a large carpet, and the whole room was lit only by candles; in short, the room was as dark as the rest of the house. Standing by the wardrobe, he took out the shrunken trunk and Hedwig’s cage and placed them on the floor; without a word, Snape waved his wand and the objects returned to their original state.
“It’s late Potter. I assume you already had dinner at your relatives house?”
“Yes sir” His stomach twisted uncomfortably. In fact, he hadn’t eaten for two days, but after what had happened downstairs, Harry preferred not to spend any more time with the professor today; besides, he didn’t want to take up any more of his day. He could always make his own food, after all, he’d cooked most of the meals at the Dursleys’ – but Harry was absolutely certain that Snape wouldn’t trust him to be on his own anywhere in the house, apart from that room, without supervision.
“I see. Breakfast will be at seven, don’t be late Potter.” he headed towards the door “ During which we will discuss the house rules” He added and left the room. Harry stood there for a few more moments; he didn’t have a watch and didn’t know how to tell if it was breakfast time, so it's safe to assume that he indeed would be late. With a deep sigh, he sat down on the bed, which was definitely better than the one he’d had at his relatives’ house, though one was definitely worse than the one in Gryffindor tower.
“It's only for one week, i can manage that.” He kept repeating it but each time with less certainty. But then again he would probably spend most of his time doing homework since he didn't have the chance before. After some time he walked over to his trunk and started unpacking; he didn’t have much, so his wardrobe looked a bit haphazard: two T-shirts that were at least three sizes too big, a single pair of trousers, and a jumper he’d been given for Christmas by Mrs. Weasley. After taking out his clothes, he set about tidying the parchments and his quill on the desk – which didn’t look too great either – and finally placed a photograph of his parents on the shelf by the bed.
“And done.” This time he lay down fully on the bed; now that he had no distractions, all his emotions and an awareness of the situation he found himself in began to sink in. The death of Quirrell and the fact that Dumbledore didn't say a single word about it, his relatives, and now living with Snape, Dumbledore didn’t explain anything about that either. Harry couldn’t understand why nobody wanted to spare him a moment and explain, even in the finest detail, what was going on. Some might say that Harry isn’t really famous and that it wasn’t him you-know-who tried to kill, given how little he knows and how nobody wanted to talk to him about anything.
Harry was in a hurry to go and have a shower so he could go to bed as soon as possible and, somehow, perhaps make it to breakfast, but it dawned on him that he hadn’t even been told where the bathroom was. He groaned as he banged his head against the mattress; how was he supposed to know about important matters when he hadn’t even been told such things? Harry decided to change into something clean and slipped under the duvet. To his surprise, once again, it smelled quite pleasant; there was no musty odour, which he’d half expected, but instead his nose was met with the scent of fresh laundry that had been air-dried in the crisp, cool air. He closed his eyes, ready to lose himself in thoughts until he fell asleep, when he remembered or rather, he saw clearly behind his closed eyelids that all the candles in the room were still burning, a dissatisfied sound escaped from between his lips, and once again he rose from his seat and walked over to each and every candle to blow them out, Standing in front of the last one, the one closest to his bed, Harry hesitated a little; he wasn’t quite sure when his fear of sleeping in a dark room had begun, not that it mattered all that much, what did mattered was that he knew he had to blow out that candle because he wasn’t sure how long it would last, or whether Snape would replace it with a new one once it had burnt out. After thinking it over at length, he blew out the candle and flung himself onto the bed, rolling over twice and, whilst he was at it, wrapping the sheets around himself like a cocoon.
Now that he was warm and comfortable, his train of thought shifted from the upheavals of the last few weeks to his friends. Why hadn’t they sent a single letter throughout the entire summer break? He’d sent them at least three and still hadn’t received a single reply. What if they sent him one now, whilst he was staying with Snape? Would the owls even reach him here, and if they do, how could he be sure that Snape would not take them and throw them away, just as Vernon had done when he received his letter from Hogwarts?
Did his friends think of him and miss him at least once during those holidays? Harry thought about them every day; he couldn’t wait to return to Hogwarts and see them again, even despite his fear of what might happen – his desire to see Ron and Hermione was stronger. After a moment, it struck him: what if they weren’t writing to him because of what he’d done? None of them had seen their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher when he died because he’d told them to stay by the chessboard – what if they thought Harry’d done it on purpose? With these thoughts in mind, he knew it would be a long night, but at least he’d be able to listen to Snape coming out of his bedroom in the morning, perhaps that way he wouldn’t be late for breakfast.
Harry lay there, wrapped tightly in his duvet, staring at the blank white ceiling and blinking lazily; thoughts were racing through his head at a speed he couldn’t keep up with. When he tried to close his eyes, he saw the face of you-know-who; whilst his eyes were open, he thought of his friends and Dumbledore, he couldn’t see a way to rid himself of all those thoughts, so as he lay there, he hoped that sleep would find him on its own and that he’d be able to get through the night without any dreams, and especially without any nightmares – although the latter was unlikely.
After what must have been two hours of lying there idly, the silence and darkness in the room began to overwhelm him; he was acutely aware of every creak from the old walls and floors, the wind outside the window made howling sounds, and his panicking mind conjured up terrifying faces in the darkness. His breathing grew faster with every passing second; a cold sweat broke out on his body and his stomach began to ache with fear. He didn’t know what to do; he wanted to get up and hide somewhere, but he was too afraid to move; the gap between the bed and the floor was wide, and the very thought of putting his foot out sent shivers down his spine. Finally, with a quick movement, he burrowed deeper into his cocoon and covered his head with the duvet so that no part of his body was visible. At that moment, he began to regret not having left that last candle lit.
“Mum, I'm so scared.” He mumbled quietly before finally falling asleep.