Walk the Shadows

that through your skull! I've been a punching bag, a scapegoat, a house elf and the fucking Chosen One, but I have never been a child! So punch me, why don't you? You want to, right? You'd love to thrash me, admit it!'

Snape shook his head, even as he took a step closer to Harry, where he stood, fists clenched so hard his nails were digging into his palms. Snape took another step.

Harry was breathing hard, and gritting his teeth so tightly they creaked in his mouth. He couldn't take this, not from Snape. Snape was supposed to hate him, forever and ever. 'Hit me!' He lifted his chin, giving Snape the perfect target. 'Come on. Do it!'

'I'm not going to hit you, Harry.'

'Fuck you!' Harry lurched toward the man, more angry than he had ever been. 'You don't get to call me that, you great greasy git! You're meant to hate me, remember? I'm the spoiled rotten arrogant son of the one who humiliated you, remember? I'm nothing but trouble, and no one will ever care about me, 'cause I'm a dirty little freak, and I'll only get myself killed, good riddance, with my stupid, arrogant, fucked up--'

'Stop, Harry,' Snape said, and his voice was kind, too kind, and Harry swung a fist at him.

'SHUT UP!'

Snape caught his wrist in one of his hands, and drew it to the side, where he couldn't punch anymore.

'LET ME GO!' He swung the other fist.

'Stop, now, Harry,' Snape said, catching the other wrist and wrestling it to Harry's side.

Harry pulled and yanked on his arm, but Snape was too strong. 'I hate you, I hate you! LET ME GO!'

'I can't do that, Harry.'

'Stop calling me that!' Harry twisted in his arms and tried to kick him, but Snape turned him round and wrapped his arms, like bands, around his chest and held him close. 'Leggo! I hate you! Please, let me go!'

'I will not hit you, Harry, no matter what you do.' His voice sounded right next to Harry's ear, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. His head hurt, and his chest, and he just wanted to lay down and die. Instead, he struggled harder. But Snape just tightened his grip, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep him from getting away. Stupid sod.

'Just leave me alone.'

'I'm not going to do that, either.'

'I hate you.'

'I know.'

XOXOXOXOXOXOXXO

From the kitchen, Severus watched Harry, who was hunched over on the couch, head pressed to his hands. The yelling had stopped, thank Merlin, and the foul language, but Harry had yet to look at him in the two hours since his last fit.

Two hours of this self flagellation was quite long enough.

Severus hovered the tea set out to the sitting room and sent a cup floating toward the boy. When Harry did not look up, even when the cup bumped gently against his forehead, Severus cleared his throat. Still not lifting his head, Harry put up a hand to grasp the thin handle of the cup and drew it down to his lap. Meanwhile, Severus took his own seat in his favorite chair and waited for Harry to adulterate his tea.

This tine, though, he added nothing. Severus did not comment, but took a sip of his own cup. Once the boy had followed suit, and they were, for all intents and purposes, well into their ritual, Severus said, 'Whose punching bag were you?'

'No one's,' came the sullen reply. Harry still had not shown his face.

'You brought it up, Potter. And may I remind you that lying is not allowed, here.'

'Whatever.'

Severus watched for another few minutes. He could push the boy back into rage easily enough, but that wouldn't really get them anywhere today. He took another sip and pondered. Then, 'Do you want to return to classes in September?'

''Course I do.'

'Then you must overcome this appalling tendency to fly into a rage at slightest provocation. Do you think your friends will appreciate your vitriol as much as I?'

A shrug, then a sigh, then a, 'No. I guess not.'

'Indeed. So, until I am satisfied that you will come to no harm, nor bring it to others, I'm afraid we are stuck here, with you answering my questions and obeying all our rules. Is that understood?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I'm not sure it is. Enjoining me to strike you is not conducive to keeping yourself out of harm. You are not allowed to hurt yourself, nor are you to beg me to do so. Is that understood?'

'Yes, sir.'

An automatic response, that. Probably trained in him by his caring relatives, Severus thought with a sneer. But maybe it was the truth this time. 'Be sure that you do. Now, who used you as a punching bag?'

Another sigh, and the boy's shoulders twitched in an almost-shrug, but he said, 'Dudley.'