Better Be Slytherin!

this topic was gone, and the only emotion he could drum up over the Obliviation was a vague sense of curiosity, about why Harry had done it. Harry had not wanted the advances, and yet, he had forced the person he had confided in to forget what he'd said about it.

After a slight pause, Harry nodded.

Severus steeled himself and asked, 'Was this the first time he's attacked you since then?'

Another pause, then a head shake for 'no.'

A sound of abject disgruntlement came from behind him, and he turned, wand at the ready, to see the Bloody Baron hovering near the door. 'Why did you not tell me, Harry Potter?' the ghost asked. 'I thought you were safe within the walls of Slytherin, or I would have kept to your side even here.'

Harry's head came up at last, and Severus saw no traces of tears on his face, despite expectations, just a heavy weariness in the boy's mien. 'It's nothing. He didn't hurt me. I'm fine.'

Severus shook his head, even as the Baron said, 'You are not. I thought the troubles you were having these last weeks, with not eating or sleeping, were because of the nightmares you were suffering over the unicorn. But I see now that it was something far more insidious. Why did you tell no one? Why did you not tell me?'

'I couldn't!' Harry yelled, and Severus was glad he had shown emotion at last.

'Surely you could have--'

'No! You don't get it,' Harry interrupted the Baron, a bright spark of anger lighting his eyes. 'If I told, he said he'd . . .'

'Said what, Harry?' Severus prompted when the boy trailed off. 'What did he threaten you with?'

'Can't say, he'll . . .' Harry shook his head and held it in his hands. He pulled at his hair like he would yank it all out if he could, and his eyes were squeezed shut. 'Can't tell.'

Severus wondered if he could be under a compulsion of some kind, but discarded the idea quickly. Those under a compulsion usually could not even say that they could not say. Harry was just frightened. Probably with good reason. 'Tell me, Harry, and I will make sure he is thrown so far out of Hogwarts he'll need a time turner to find his way to Hogsmeade.'

The boy turned his face to Severus'. 'But you said--'

'I said what I had to, to the son of one of the Dark Lord's favored supporters, Harry. If he threatened you, too, he will be gone before the end of the day.'

Harry swallowed and managed a small nod. 'He said if I didn't play along, he'd do it to my 'Mudblood friend' next.' He closed his eyes as a shiver went through his body. 'Hermione. He meant Hermione.'

Severus nodded, though he felt sick. He knew now why Harry had Obliviated him, whether consciously or not. How little faith this poor boy had in him, in any of the adults in his life, that he would rather give in to a sadist like Avery than trust any of them to keep him -- or his friend -- safe. But then, what had the Baron said, while Severus was stalking his way down here? That any time the boy had been told he was going to receive help, he had suffered instead. He had heard the truth of that, in the conversation Harry had with his owl, when, rather than being rescued from his neglectful relatives, he had been locked up and starved when the nurse from his school investigated his home life.

That would not happen here. Not if Severus had anything to say about it.

'Harry, I want you to come with me to see Madam Pomfrey,' he said quietly.

'No!' Harry actually shrank back against the wall. 'No, I'm fine!'

'You aren't,' Severus insisted. 'You may have internal--'

'No! He never did anything, not anything more than like this.' The boy swallowed, like he was about to throw up, but to his credit, continued. 'Said I was too scrawny, too little for him, but when I got bigger, he'd . . .'

And then Severus understood. He would murder Avery, strangle him with his own two hands. 'You don't want her -- or me -- to know you haven't been eating. You did not want to get big enough for him to do any more to you.'

Harry nodded jerkily. His thin shoulders were quivering. 'Sorry, I'm sorry, sir. I know I said I'd take the potions and eat right and all, I know I promised, but I couldn't! I didn't want, I mean, I didn't . . . I couldn't. . . . I'm so sorry.' And here were the tears Severus had expected before: big, fat tears, rolling down his pale, pinched cheeks as his starved body trembled.

'Oh, Harry,' he murmured, and reached out with one hand to wipe a tear away, or to cup this child's head and tell him it would be all right, that he didn't blame the boy for protecting himself, not at all, when he suddenly found himself with an armful of sobbing eleven-year-old, skinny limbs and all.

If anyone had told him, three months ago, that he would one day hold James Potter's son in his arms and offer him comfort during a good cry, he would have laughed them all the way to St. Mungo's. And yet, here he was, murmuring soft nonsense words to the boy, patting his back and smoothing his other hand over his black, perpetually messy hair.

As the boy cried himself out, clutching at his shoulders and pressing his tear-damp face into his robes, a dam of emotions broke inside Severus, washing over him like nothing he had ever felt before. He had promised to protect this boy; he had sworn an oath. He had felt protective of him, and angry for him when he had faced those Muggles, and he had shared the pain of loss with the boy in his parents' graveyard and looking over the photographed memories of the woman who meant so much to both of them.

But he had never felt this before, whatever this was . . . just that his heart felt both loosened and constricted at the same time, and he knew he would protect Harry with his own teeth and nails if he had to, and he knew he would never, could never, send him back to those Muggles. He wanted the boy to trust him, and to come to him when he had troubles, and he would hold the boy, just like this . . . like a father should. Like his own father should have, if he had not been such a bastard. Like James should have done, for Harry, if he had not died facing the Dark Lord.

It was time Harry had someone he could count on for good. Like a father, who he could lean on and believe in, and trust. Severus would make it happen. He owed it to Lily. He