Never Let Them See You Bleed

Harry shivered as another cold draft found its way through his already damp clothes. How long had he been in here, anyway? He mentally shrugged, at the rate that unconsciousness seemed to find him, time wasn't all that important. His stomach gave a low growl, indicating that it had been some time since he had last ate, but it was doubtful that his relatives would care to grace him with any food that night. Putting his hunger out of his mind, he concentrated on other things - namely on how Hedwig was, but he also tried to think about his friends every time he found himself awake.

But that night, Harry's mind found itself wandering back to where this summer began - the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had found it odd that his Aunt Petunia had picked him up, without Uncle Vernon or Dudley in tow, looking much thinner than he ever remembered her being. She was also skittish about everything - from his friends waving goodbye and promising to owl him during the summer, to even when a guard had simply asked them if they needed any help. Aunt Petunia had silently shaken her head and hurried Harry out of King's Cross. She hadn't even answered him when he asked what was wrong, just replied that everything was fine and he had best stop dragging his feet. But everything wasn't fine, as was quickly apparent as soon as the front door had closed behind them. Uncle Vernon had madly torn out of the living room, demanding to know why she was making such a racket, when he caught sight of Harry. Even from the five or six feet that separated them, Harry could tell that his uncle had been drinking - and a great deal of it too. Harry nearly winced at the remembered pain of that afternoon, not only from the severe beating he had been given, but also the slurs that were hurled against him and his 'kind.'

Apparently Vernon had lost his job for some unnamed reason, and had taken to drowning his sorrows in alcohol, becoming quite violent towards his wife and nephew. Dudley was only exempt from the beatings simply because in Vernon's words 'the boy has great potential.' Harry snorted softly in the dark, careful not to make too much noise. If either Vernon or Dudley heard him in the cupboard under the stairs, he would probably be subject to another beating. He had already had six, each more painful than the last, since he had arrived back at the house on 4 Privet Drive, two - or was that three weeks ago now? But apparently Vernon had lost his fear of Harry's godfather, the notorious Sirius Black. Hissing softly in pain, he moved around, feeling along the floor for anything that would help ward off the chill, since the cupboard had grown noticeably damper and much, much smaller since he had last been in there. Feeling his stomach lurch in response to the pain, he stopped moving immediately, trying to catch his breath and force himself not to throw up. A small moan worked its way free of his throat as he could feel the bile starting to burn at the back of his throat.

"DAMN BOY!" Vernon roared. Harry winced, since he could tell that his uncle was already severely inebriated, but at the same time his hope was that maybe this beating wouldn't last so long. As the cupboard door was flung open, Harry morbidly wondered who would get the dubious pleasure of killing him - Voldemort or Vernon Dursley.

---

At that same moment, Severus Snape was doing something quite unexpected from the strict Potions Master the students of Hogwarts loved to hate - he was gaping, open-mouthed at the Divination professor. In fact, everyone in Dumbledore's office was looking at Sybil Trelawney with the same expression of disbelief, except of course, Dumbledore, who merely looked outraged.

Trelawney was looking quite perturbed at the stares she was getting, and hurriedly left, claiming the need to 'cleanse her aura' or something equally addle-brained. Severus turned to look at Dumbledore, as did all of the professors. Minerva McGonagall was the first to speak. "Albus, if that was one of her real predictions..."

"I'm afraid that it was. Severus, I want you to get to 4 Privet Drive immediately, and find out what in the name of Merlin is happening there. Minerva, I know that you feel a certain responsibility towards Harry, but I have a task for you that cannot be put off. I'm sending you Severus, because you have a more... intimidating presence and have no pressing assignment at the moment. But for all of our sakes, please hurry."

Severus merely nodded once. McGonagall sent him a look that practically begged him to make sure that Potter was safe, and he inclined his head slightly. Leaving with a swish of his black robes, he had summoned a broomstick to him, and practically flew the second he set foot outside. For some odd reason, he could feel a sense of foreboding about Potter. As much as he had disliked James, he had no wish to see the younger Potter dead at the hands of a Muggle, since he was their best hope of defeating Voldemort. He could feel the Apparation barrier just ahead, and as soon as he had passed through it, he slowed and dismounted the broomstick, then Apparated to several designated safe points, making his way down the country to Surrey.

It was almost dusk when he finally arrived in Little Whinging, in Mrs. Figg's backyard, to be precise. Shedding his robe, he was dressed quite inconspicuously in plain Muggle clothing, dark jeans and a black t-shirt. Brushing his hair out of his face, he put on his best unemotional mask and walked down the street to 4 Privet Drive. Making sure that his wand was in his pocket (courtesy of a simple Enlargement Charm that any first year could do), he walked up the steps, only to freeze as he heard the unmistakable sound of someone in pain. Looking all around him, he made sure that the street was completely empty, then Apparated inside the house.

His reflexes, honed by years as a spy for Dumbledore, caused him to step aside just as a body skidded to a halt just beside his feet. Severus' eyes narrowed. This body had messy black hair falling over a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, and if his eyes, which were now swollen shut, were open, Severus knew that they would be a bright green. His nose notified him of the presence of a great amount of Muggle alcohol, the main stench coming from a whale of a man, whose eyes were glazed over and cheeks held a profusion of color in them. The man, whom Severus assumed to be Potter's uncle, was looking at him strangely, since he had literally appeared out of thin air.

"W-who are y-you?" he stuttered, probably feeling a bit guilty about being caught in the act of beating his nephew.

"I am one of Potter's professors," he said slowly. He could feel the rage building inside him, just begging to be set free, so this stupid Muggle would know exactly what Potter was feeling.

"GET OUT!" Vernon stormed. "I will not allow any of your kind in this house!"

Severus drew his wand almost faster than Vernon could blink, and had it pointing directly at his face. "I want Potter's possessions, including his owl, which had best be alive, here within five minutes, or I swear that you will be finding yourself in a great deal more pain than you have been inflicting."

The pure menace projected in his voice seemed to get through Vernon's alcohol-dazed mind. "P-p-petunia!" he croaked.

A thin woman who didn't look much better than Potter ran into the living room and gasped at the picture they made: Harry, unconscious (for Severus refused to believe that he was dead) at Severus’s feet, Severus himself looking quite menacing in his dark outfit, the sneer on his face, and the wand pointing unwaveringly at her husband, who was starting to tremble.

"Yes, Vernon?" she replied quietly, wondering how badly she was going to be beaten when Harry was gone.

"Go get the boy's things, and that ruddy owl of his, and bring them down here."

"B-but I c-can't lift his trunk," she falteringly told him.

"Dammit woman! You're fucking useless!" Vernon was about to turn and give Petunia a slap across the face, when Severus intervened by turning Vernon into a rather ugly rat. Shrieking softly, she huddled back into the cushions of the couch, looking at him with wide, fearful eyes.

Placing the rat under a full body-bind spell, Severus looked at the cowering woman. "Never mind, I'll get it myself. Accio Potter's trunk and owl!"

The trunk came sailing into the living room first, followed by an owl cage with a heavy padlock on the door and a very bedraggled, but still living owl inside. He muttered a soft Alohomora, the padlock sprang free, and the owl immediately flew to Harry's side, cooing softly. Severus grabbed the rat, threw him into the cage, and then snapped the padlock back on it.

"Wh-what's going to happen to him?" Petunia asked softly.

"I will hand him over to the Headmaster, who will decide what to do with him from there. Just know this - the wizarding world takes a very dim view on child abusers, so it is extremely doubtful that you will see him for quite some time. In that time, I suggest that you move very, very far from here and change your name."

Petunia whimpered and shrank further back into the couch. Deciding to leave the Muggle to her own devices, he turned to Potter's owl. "Are you well enough to make a flight to Hogwarts?"

The snowy owl hooted once in agreement. "Very well," He pulled a scrap piece of parchment and a quill from his pocket and scribbled a quick note to Dumbledore. "Take this straight to Dumbledore. He'll bring you back to Potter."

The owl nipped at Potter's ear, as if saying farewell, then flew to grab the parchment, and out the window Severus had opened with another spell. Summoning his robe to him, he removed the hindrance from the fireplace and conjured up a bright fire. Potter seemed to be stirring, which was a good sign to Severus.

"Wake up," he said.

Potter simply turned his head to the fire. "Mpfh. Too early to get up, 'Mione. Don't feel too good either."

"I'd say not," Severus remarked dryly, trying to figure out who exactly this "'Mione" was, when it hit him that he was probably referring to his friend, Hermione Granger. "And we will discuss why exactly Miss Granger is the one waking you up later."

But Potter was already out again. Taking a pinch of Floo powder from his robes, he muttered two spells: one that would make Potter follow him, and the other to make his trunk follow its master. Throwing the Floo powder into the fire, he called out "Haven" and stepped in, hoping that Dumbledore had pulled enough strings quickly enough that Potter's fireplace was back on the Floo network.

The sickening lurch of his stomach told him that he had gotten his wish. Fireplaces whizzed by at incredible speeds, too many to count, and Severus felt like throwing up by the time he caught sight of Haven's fireplace. Exiting the Floo network, Severus placed his hands on his knees and breathed deeply a few times to force his lunch back where it belonged. Shaking off the nausea that always came with Floo travel, he directed Potter's still form up the stairs, much to the whisperings of the paintings decorating the hallways. Once he was in bed, Severus immediately began to work at healing as much as he could with his rudimentary knowledge of the healing arts, a direct result of having to patch himself up so frequently in the past.

---

When Harry woke up once again, he wondered briefly if he had just woken up from a terrible dream, only to have that thought squashed by the frission of pain that was emanating from his ribs. Opening his eyes, he automatically reached for his glasses, only to bite his lip to keep from howling from the pain that caused.

"Mr. Potter! Don't move too suddenly, or you'll undo my careful work!"

Harry frowned and tried to focus his eyes. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Am I at Hogwarts?"

A snort from the far side of the room told him that they weren't alone. "Hardly, Mr. Potter."

Harry had no reply to give to Professor Snape (for he recognized the voice immediately), just bowed his head. A myriad of thoughts crashed into his brain, most of them recriminating him for not doing something sooner - the ever-present reminder that he wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school forgotten. He could have pleaded a fair case for himself for the use, if only he had done something to stop his uncle before it got to the point where his professors had to intervene. And of all his professors, why did it have to be Snape? He'll never let me live this down, Harry thought morosely.

"I know exactly what's going through your head, Potter, and you can just start forgetting it right now," Snape said, with a mild bite in his voice. "It's not your fault that your miserable excuse for a relative chose to treat you worse than even a house-elf should be treated."

"But I should have done something!" he finally burst out.

"Like what? Unless I'm greatly mistaken, students are not allowed to use magic outside of school, particularly where Muggles are involved." Harry looked up to see the blurry form that was Snape come closer. Something cool slid into his hands, and after a couple of seconds Harry realized that it was his glasses. Putting them on, he nearly sighed with relief as everything came into focus. But the vision correction still didn't clear up the question of where he was. It certainly wasn't Hogwarts, not with the absence of outside stone walls and the minor draft problem that came with them. He was warm, in a soft bed that felt heavenly on his still-sore back, and surprisingly enough, Snape looked halfway normal - for a wizard at least. His long black hair was pulled neatly into a ponytail at the base of his neck, and he was wearing a pair of simple black trousers and a black shirt. Harry dropped his gaze once again.

"I don't know - but something."

"There was nothing you could have done differently. The past is the past. Remember it, learn from it, but do not let it consume you. Just be thankful that Trelawny had one of her 'visions' and that I got there in time."

Harry groaned. "Great, now she's predicting my death even when I'm not around," he muttered, so softly only Snape fully caught what he said. The side of his mouth seemed to twitch, as if he were fighting off a smile.

"Ah, Harry, glad to see you up," Dumbledore said jovially as he entered the room. Madam Pomfrey muttered under her breath about people always disturbing her most frequent patient, but the three males paid her no mind. Harry had to smile at the picture Dumbledore made, bright blue robes covered in moving stars and moons, Fawkes on one shoulder, and a snow white owl on the other.

"Hedwig!" Harry cried happily as she swooped down to land on his shoulder. Nibbling his ear affectionately, she cooed as Harry stroked a finger down her wing. Fawkes also landed on Harry, but chose to perch on his lap. Warbling out a note, Harry could feel the single note reverberate down his spine, even as it lifted his spirits. Smiling he petted the bright scarlet and gold phoenix. "Thanks, Fawkes."

Fawkes took flight as a loud bark heralded the arrival of a large, black dog that came bounding into the room. Madam Pomfrey squealed something about it not being healthy for all of these animals to be around Harry, covering up Snape's biting comment of "Merlin spare me."

Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy, may we have a word with Harry alone?"

She sniffed and looked at Snape. "I suppose that since you did a halfway decent job before, you can have ten minutes with him. But not a minute more!"

"Of course, Poppy." As soon as the door was shut, the black dog changed swiftly into a man - Harry's godfather to be exact.

Sirius crossed the room in three quick strides and pulled Harry into a bone-crushing hug, one that Harry returned. "Damn Harry, I was so worried about you when the Headmaster told me that you were hurt."

"As touching as this reunion is, we've only got ten minutes before Poppy charges back in here," Snape drawled from his chair.

"Sod off, you insufferable prat."

"Children," Dumbledore said, a bit bitingly. Both men looked away from each other as they mumbled their apologies to him. "Now, if we may get around to the discussion without further scathing remarks or bloodshed?" They both nodded, chastised even further. "Harry, I wish to apologize deeply for placing you in that situation in the first place."

Harry shrugged. "It's okay Professor, you couldn't have known."

"Even still, I did not think that your uncle would react like he did. And rest assured, he has been taken care of."

"How?"

Snape smiled grimly. "I turned him into a rat and gave him to the Headmaster."

Sirius looked at his old adversary. "Tell me that you have at least one picture of that git as a rat."

"Back to the point at hand. Since it is no longer feasible for you to return to Privet Drive, we have made other arrangements." Dumbledore told him matter-of-factly. "Severus has volunteered to be your guardian until you turn eighteen, or Sirius has been pardoned, whichever may come first. For the rest of the summer, you will stay here at Haven. I'm sure that Severus won't mind if your friends visited you?"

Even though his lips twitched in annoyance, Snape nodded grudgingly. "Very well. That's settled then. Sirius, I will be accompanying you back to Lupin's, as there is a small assignment I wish to discuss with you both."

Sirius nodded, gave Harry one last hug, then changed back into the large, black dog. 'Snuffles' rested his paws on the bed and licked Harry's face, much to everyone's amusement. Sitting down by Dumbledore's feet, he waited for the door to open before bounding back out into the hallway. Snape was just shaking his head as the two wizards (and phoenix) left, leaving Harry alone with him.

"Haven?" he finally asked, a bit wonderingly.

"Yes," Snape replied with none of the usual venom in his voice. "Even spies need a safe place occasionally, just to hide out, or to heal." Harry looked up in surprise. Snape, as if feeling that he said too much, stood, the usual look of non-emotion back on his face. "Poppy will be back at any moment. In the mean time, I suggest that you rest."

Harry couldn't find fault with that, since his eyelids had been growing steadily heavier. Slipping his glasses back off, he placed them gently on the nightstand next to him, then closed his eyes.

---

It was growing close to eight o'clock when Poppy left for Hogwarts, and only because several wizards had been injured in Hogsmeade by a falling scaffold. Everyone suspected the presence of the Dark Arts, and Severus didn't blame them one bit. That scaffold was charmed to stay in place, and only some powerful curses could make it fail.

Opening up his copy of the Daily Prophet, his lips twitched in annoyance as Cornelius Fudge continued to deny the Dark Lord's return. Scanning the rest of the headlines, he saw nothing worth investigating, and threw down the newspaper. He snorted. With the likes of Rita Skeeter writing for them, the Daily Prophet was fastly becoming nothing more than a scandalous tabloid. And it wouldn't surprise him at all to find an article about Harry's recent trouble at home in there. No matter how much he despised him, The Boy Who Lived didn't deserve the pitying looks or the resulting teasing from that kind of revelation. Picking up a dog-eared Potions book, he happily immersed himself into his chosen craft.

Having marked several Potions for possible use in his classes, he was about to start one as an experiment when a sound from upstairs froze him. Placing the book down by his chair, he silently climbed the stairs, listening intently. He didn't hear anything, but decided to check in on his houseguest anyway. Opening the door, he entered the room, only to find Potter - Harry, he mentally corrected, trapped in what appeared to be a rather bad nightmare - whether about Voldemort or Vernon Dursley, he couldn't begin to guess.

Sitting down on the bed, he reached out a hand and gently shook Harry's shoulder, only to jump out of the way as a fist sailed towards his face. That movement seemed to wake Harry up and look around nervously. Automatically reaching for his glasses, he slipped them on, and then looked up at him.

"Bad dream?" Severus asked, careful not to let any accusation or inflection color his voice.

Harry nodded, being rendered mute by the symphony of memories crashing through his mind almost faster than he could process them. His throat was closing even more as tears long denied were trying to force their way out of him. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back under the covers, curl into a ball, and let all this misery out, but he still felt the need to put on a brave face for everyone, as if he could handle everything that was thrown at him.

"I wouldn't recommend keeping everything bottled inside," Severus said as he sat back down beside Harry and ran a surprisingly gentle hand over his messy black hair.

The first tear trickled down the side of his face, and no matter how hard he bit his lip, they kept coming like a relentless flood. The tears came from deep inside, a place where misery, regret, failure, fear, and so many other confusing and conflicting emotions dwelled, all Harry could do was just cry. He didn't notice when he was pulled against a warm body, but he clung on for dear life, his entire body wracking with the force of his sobs. He could feel a hand gently rubbing his back and soft, comforting words soothing his battered mind. Even when his sobs had died down to mere shudders and hiccups, neither Harry or Severus made a move to part. Harry had to wonder if this is what his father's arms would have felt like, even as a large yawn escaped him. Severus had to smile a bit.

"Go back to sleep, Harry," he gently ordered. Harry nodded and laid back down, almost immediately falling asleep. Pulling up the covers, Severus both wondered and marveled at the strong paternal pang the fourteen year old, messy haired, emerald-eyed, Boy Who Lived managed to lay claim to. Perhaps it was because he reminds me of myself at his age, Severus thought to himself. Not only having confusing feelings towards one of your best friends... His eyes hardened at the recollection of one of his most painful memories, and he strictly forced himself not to continue that particular thought. Silently exiting the room, he went back downstairs and snatched up his Potions book, sighing greatly as he collapsed back into his chair. Rubbing his forehead wearily, he set his book back down and stared morosely into the fire. Of all the thousand regrets he harbored, not being able to set things right with the only woman to capture his heart was the one he regretted most. Resolving not to let himself take out his frustrations on her best friend's son, he continued to stare into the fire for another few hours, until rising to go to bed himself. Making one last check on Harry, Severus made his way to his cold and lonely room, indulging in a few tears himself.