Broken Boy

Chapter 4 - Out with the Old

During his years as a spy, Severus Snape had learned the value of a good disillusionment charm coupled with stealthy movement. Breathe softy; stick to the shadows, and much could be learned. He was learning rather a lot as he waited for Poppy to conclude her meeting with Albus and Minerva.

Harry Potter lay in one of the beds, awake but silent. There was no smile on his face now and no glamour hid his injuries. The boy knew he'd been caught in his act already. His head was turned and he seemed to be gazing out of one of the large windows, but the dullness of his expression suggested he was not really seeing the early evening view.

For the first time since he had met him, Snape found that he couldn't see anything of James Potter in the young man's features. James had been brightness and arrogance - handsome lines and confident scruffiness. He had also been about as deep as a puddle.

The Gryffindor on the bed seemed an emotional blank canvas. His face was carefully expressionless and his eyes were curiously empty. He was hard lines and sharp points, without the soft fullness that should have been present in a man his age. He was starved and dirty with neglect. And beneath the carefully still surface, Severus could feel the boy's magic twisting and coiling. The iron filings under Severus' skin twitched towards the depths of roiling power there.

Beside Potter sat Granger and Weasley. If anything in the world could make a man appreciate the silence of solitude and shadows, it was the ceaseless suffocation of these two dunderheads. Merlin beyond, couldn't they see that the boy wanted a little peace? Worse than the noise were the actual words.

"You need to talk to us, Harry," said Granger.

"You should have told us, mate," said Weasley.

"Honestly, Harry, what were you thinking?" asked Granger.

"Why didn't you say something?" asked Weasley.

"You always do this – shut us out when you need us. It's self-destructive," said Granger.

"This is what we were talking about earlier, mate. There's always something. You make it so hard to help you," said Weasley.

"What happened, Harry?" asked Granger.

"What's going on, Harry?" asked Weasley.

It went on. And on. Blame and questions and accusations. Severus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose and squeezed his eyes shut. In the name Salazar's single-eyed serpent, were they never going to shut up? It was almost enough to make him admire the boy's stoic silence. This was not what he needed.

Just as Severus had decided that it was time to interrupt, a familiar scent and a light knocking stopped him. He looked up to see Draco and Lovegood stood in the doorway, holding hot, newspaper-wrapped bundles which smelled of vinegar and comfort. On the bed, Harry turned his head.

Draco lifted his chin, squared his shoulders and looked past the slack-jawed but mercifully-mute pair at the bedside, directly at Harry. "I... We thought you might appreciate something to eat."

Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger jumped to their feet and aimed their wands at the doorway.

"You did this," growled Weasley.

"Ron, 'Mione..." They were the first words Potter had said since arriving at Hogwarts, and he was ignored. From his place in the shadows, Severus Snape felt something inside him begin to burn.

The Lovegood girl took a step forward, deliberately placing herself at wand-point. "He was helping. I asked him to and he did. Would you like some chips? They were Draco's idea. The house elves made the chips but Draco said we had to wrap them up in newspaper. The pictures like the smell, but keep trying to wipe the grease off their noses. Hello Harry."