Whelp II The Wrath of Snape

Oh, Harry.

Severus had ordered the boy to remain on the couch. And then, he had castigated Harry for doing exactly what he had been told. Ai, Merlin. How much more of a horrible monster could he have been?

More than anything else at that moment, Severus wanted to race back to his quarters and apologize profusely to the boy. How could he have been so dense? How could he have forgotten, even for an instant, how seriously Harry took any orders, how desperately the boy strove to obey in everything, every rule, even every hint of one? How could he have been so cruel?

He had no time, however, to make it up to Harry, as the students started to pour in from the corridor and take their seats. He bellowed at them for silence, then ran through roll call quickly, glaring at every one of the dunderheads that was keeping him from his son. After that, he started his little speech about how wondrous this class could be if only the students were not quite as stupid as he was sure they were. With that out of the way, he flung the day's potion instructions up on the board and snarled at them to get to it.

Over the course of the next double period, he assigned twelve detentions, took forty points from Gryffindor, and failed two students' potions outright, because they dared not follow his instructions to the letter. If Harry could follow his instructions, even to his own detriment, why was it these children, who were twice his son's age, could not? How dare they flaunt their arrogant defiance like that?

---

Father was gone. Nelli was there, though, her voice soft, even with words that shamed him. 'Youse needs to get out of these wet clothes, Master Harry. Master Snape wants you to wash now. Youse be wanting a shower, Master Harry?'

Harry nodded bleakly, hands over his face. How could she stand to look at him? He was such a freak! Peeing his pants, and now crying! No wonder his father had yelled and left him here. He was ashamed of Harry, he had to be. Probably didn't want such a freak for a son. No one could.

Gulping a few unsteady breaths, Harry did what he was told and peeled off the wet clothes. The smell made him want to throw up, reminding him of days spent in his cupboard with no relief but what could be had in a bucket, when the heat of the summer made the cloying smell unbearable. Balancing on his good foot – the other ankle didn't hurt at all, in fact he could barely feel it – he stepped into the shower.

Nelli helped him with the spigots, until the water was comfortably warm. But freaks like him didn't deserve warm water; it shouldn't be wasted on him. He should have only cold water, and hard scratchy lye soap instead of this nice foamy stuff, and no flannel, just fingernails, nails that scraped across his skin, scratching at where he had soiled, clawing hard enough to tear into his flesh and draw blood.

'No, Master Harry,' Nelli said. Her tiny hands grabbed at his, pulling them away from his body. 'Youse is not to be hurting yourself. Youse wanting Nelli to get Mistress Pomfrey now?'

Harry shook his head, his throat too thick to answer. What did it matter? His father hated him, and didn't even want him anymore, he could tell. He never should have talked to snakes, never should have lied about hurting his ankle, and should have held in his pee like a big boy, and never started crying like a stupid baby.

He was bad and never deserved to have a father at all. Uncle Vernon was right. No one could ever love a freak like him.

'Come now, Master Harry.' Nelli had turned off the water, and was pulling him from the shower. She patted him down with a towel, and he stood, shaking, though not with cold, arms wrapped around his middle. No more tears, he swore. No more being a baby, even if he couldn't help being a freak who talked to snakes and wet his pants. He had to take care of himself, just like always. He had to, 'cause no one else would. He took the towel from Nelli's hands so he could finish drying. A little bit of blood from where he'd gouged his stomach stained it, and he just stared at the stain, wishing he knew how to get rid of the proof that he was a freak.

'Youse can sit down there,' Nelli said, taking the towel and pointing at the little stool Harry stood on so he could see the mirror when he brushed his teeth and hair before bed. He noticed the wet clothes were gone, thank goodness, though he deserved to have to clean them himself, he knew. The House-elves shouldn't have to do it.