Walk the Shadows

get out of his bloody face for five freaking minutes without reminding him of something or asking him something or telling him something else! He'd already thrown one nutrition potion against the wall and another was about to go the way of all meat.

'That's enough!' Snape roared, and used his wand to Accio the second potion mid- flight. Grabbing it out of the air, he glared at Harry like Harry was some species of bug he'd never seen before.

Harry glared right back, hands balled into fists. 'Leave me alone!'

'I would like nothing better, Mr. Potter, but that notion, as pleasing as it might be to both of us, is completely beyond my control.'

'I. Don't. Want. Any. Damn. Potions!'

'And I don't want my walls festooned with your handiwork. But life is all about not getting what you want.'

He could say that again.

'What was that, Mr. Potter? Is it too much to trouble you to speak--'

'I said you could say that again! If I ever got what I wanted, I'd be living with Sirius, instead of stupid people who bloody well abandoned me, or better, with my Mum and Dad! I'd be fucking normal, instead of some stupid, arrogant, spoiled, little freak!' He pounded his hand on the table and threw some of Snape's own words at him, glad to see the man wince – almost – at hearing them shouted. The rest were courtesy of Uncle Vernon, and he'd heard them often enough he was pretty sure they were true, too. 'I wouldn't have to drink nasty, slimy, horrible potions to counteract bloody Cruciatus spells and stupid nightmares, or . . . or eat vegetables, or go to bed at a reasonable hour or do my homework or anything!'

He was shrieking by the end of his tirade, and it took some moments to get his breath back. His head hurt, again, as it always did if he got too 'worked up,' as Snape called it. And his eyes, too.

'Are you quite done?'

Harry couldn't have said more – or screeched more – if he tried. So he nodded instead.

'Mm.' Snape prowled closer. 'Not bad this time. Under ten minutes. No personal possessions destroyed. No cuts, I assume? Bruising at all?'

Harry shook his head, his gaze on his hands. He'd worked up a sweat, and as he cooled down, he shivered a little in the dungeon air.

'Blanket?' Snape asked.

With a nod, Harry accepted that the 'fight' was done, that he was done. For the moment. Snape brought him a quilt from his room and draped it over his shoulders. 'Look at me,' he said, and Harry complied. His professor stared into each of his eyes, first one, then the other, scrutinizing him, then finally nodded. 'Any pain?'

'No, sir. Well. Not much.'

'Elaborate.'

'They just ache. Not stinging.'

'Very well.' He sighed. 'Listen Potter . . . Harry, I know—'

'I'm sorry, sir,' Harry said, beating him to the lecture. 'That I lost my temper.' Again.

'You are very angry, about a lot of things. It makes sense you'd want to rant a bit.' Snape paused, then, 'But I notice in your rant that although you bemoan the potions that help with the tremors from Cruciatus, you didn't actually rail against the curse itself. For instance.'

Not this again. . . . 'Professor, I don't want to talk about it.'

'No. I imagine you don't. But what did I say in my rant? About life and wants?'

Harry sighed. 'Can I . . . Can I have some tea or something first?'

Snape nodded and went into his small kitchen, where he filled a pot and set it on the hob, then spooned a generous helping of leaves in. Whilst he was busy, Harry bit at one of his thumbnails, and the skin surrounding it, nibbling off layers until he drew blood. The tiny wound stung in the open air, and Harry put his hands in his lap as Snape returned with two cups, hovering a pitcher of cream and a small bowl of sugar to the table before him. Harry stirred a little sugar into his tea and blew over the top of the cup until it cooled enough to sip.

Snape waited, with his own unaltered cup in hand, and watched him.

'I don't know what you want me to say,' Harry told him, after a while.

'Start with something easy, perhaps. For instance, why did your relatives leave you behind when they fled from Surrey?'

'Oh, that's an easy one?' Harry grumbled.

Snape gave an eloquent shrug, which Harry took to mean that he could certainly think of much harder questions to ask. And Harry knew that was true, but still. He didn't have to like it.

'Fine. They left me behind because they hated me.'

'You've said that before. In what ways did it manifest?'

It was Harry's turn to shrug. 'I don't know.'

'Potter . . .'

'Okay! They hate everything to do with magic, and that means me, too. They thought my parents were freaks,