Severus watched the play of emotions over Harry's face -- far fewer than he may have expected from an average child, but far more than he was growing to expect from Harry; the boy had a better blank face than almost anyone else he knew -- and he considered what the boy was
Not to mention the question that had led up to this admission. As Head of Slytherin, he had at least one or two children a year who did not want to go home for holidays, as Harry obviously did not. The reason they gave was almost universal at its core, that they were not wanted at home.
Neglect was one of the more insidious forms of abuse he came up against, and one of the most difficult for him to combat in children who were already age eleven when they first reached his demense. The main problem, of course, was that children subjected since infancy to such profound neglect often grew up believing there was nothing wrong with the treatment they endured in their homes. Because they were not being hit, usually, it was easier for these children to believe their lives were not so bad, or that their guardians treated them normally, since they were taught they did not
Harry had all the classic signs of this kind of neglect, but while the aunt and uncle had not abused him physically, seemingly content to pretend he did not exist at all, when they weren't telling him he was useless and worthless, he had just as obviously been routinely assaulted by his slug of a cousin and the slug's cohort at their school. The boy had the worst of both worlds.
For instance, Harry's simple statement about his one Christmas present told Severus far more about his home environment than the boy could possibly know. Severus did not know what his pregnant pause had been about -- there was much more to that story, for certain -- and he could ask for clarification now and get the whole story if he wanted. He still had one question, after all.
But Harry was currently staring back at him, holding his gaze unashamedly, to Severus' surprise. These kinds of questions about one's home-life -- and this was by no means the first deal Severus had made with a Slytherin to get those questions answered -- usually resulted in a lot of head hanging and averted gazes. Yet, he had known for some while that this boy had less fear, as well as less of a sense of self-worth, than most others he had dealt with recently. It was troubling. How far had his guardians worn him down that he could continue to maintain his cool, blank mask about this particular episode, the memory of which would have reduced most children to tears?
Severus pursed his lips. What should he ask? Harry opened his mouth, but before the Brat Who Lived to Interrupt could get a word out, Severus said, 'Next question.'
As he hoped, the boy subsided and sat back in his chair, his expression still contained in that blank mask. 'Yes, sir?'
Severus almost smiled. Harry was also almost unfailingly polite. Not that such an attitude would have done him much good at his relatives' house, but such manners had likely been drilled in him since infancy. Only its lack would have drawn attention, and not any good attention. But Severus did not smile. Instead, he kept his tone perfectly level as he said, 'How are you getting along in our House?'
'All of it, sir? Or just with Firsties?'
'How much contact do you have with the upper years?' He would wager Harry had far more contact with Slytherin Uppers than most other Firsties, because of whose curse he had survived when he was fifteen months old, among other reasons.
'Not much.' The boy's forehead wrinkled as he considered. 'Quidditch team . . . mostly . . .'
Obviously, Severus knew, as Harry averted his gaze after his hesitation, he was recalling at least one other interaction. But Severus did not call him on it, and merely waved at him to continue.
'I get along okay.'
If the
