A/N: Well, hi! Uhm... So, yeah. This is my first Harry Potter fanfic, but this idea has been going on in my head for quite some time. So I decided to write it. I know it's a bit cliché, but I swear it is not going to be like the others. There won't be any male slash, but there will be abuse and stuff. So I hope you enjoy it as much as I'll enjoy writing it.

Warnings: Child Abuse. Swearing.

Disclaimer: People. If I owned Harry Potter Lily and Snape would have made it as a couple no matter what everyone says! Oh, and Dumbledore would've lived :')

Curiosity killed the cat. And Petunia Dursley found this statement all too real when she opened the door of her house one morning to check on the neighbors and found a small, blue, wailing bundle at her feet. She stared at it with horror and looked in every direction. Who would've left a baby in her door? Had anyone seen him? She sighed. She always tried so hard to be normal, why did things like this happen to her? She hastily scooped up the tiny boy and huffed as she smelt him. How long had he been lying there? She hoped to God that nobody had seen him and grabbed the letter that had been placed near the boy.

She nearly fainted as she finished reading it and looked down at the tiny boy.

"Harry Potter?" she whispered. "Oh, God. Vernon! VERNON!"


Nine years had passed since that morning.

A tiny ten-year-old boy lay against a wall inside a dusty cupboard, huddled within himself, with his arms wrapped tightly around his legs and his face hidden in them. He was trembling, trying to breathe through the pain. He briefly looked up when he felt dust falling on him, a sign that someone was walking down the stairs. He quickly cleaned his tears and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He hoped against hope that it was just Dudley going down instead of Uncle Vernon. He had been quite some time inside the cupboard, but he wasn't ready to come out. He was still hurting all over and very sore, and he was sure that he wouldn't have a chance of completing all of the chores Uncle Vernon liked to give him during vacations. He swallowed and closed his eyes shut, wishing with all his might that it wasn't his uncle.

But he didn't have such luck.

The door of the cupboard was thrown open and he pressed his back against the wall as much as he could.

"Get out." The pig-man said, frowning. "Now. Don't make me wait."

Harry nodded and, even if all his body screamed to stay put, he got to his feet and walked to the door. Uncle Vernon pushed him towards the kitchen.

"Breakfast. Now." He grumbled. "Count yourself in."

Harry's heart fluttered. That meant he got to eat! His stomach settled down as he sprinted to the kitchen. Of course, his breakfast was million times smaller than his relatives', but he wasn't going to argue. He only got this chance once every few days if he was lucky, and it had been this way since he could remember. When he was little, he often passed out during recess, when he was being chased down by Dudley's friends. But he had grown used to it. Kindof.

The enormous Malfoy mansion stood tall amongst the rain. Inside, two people sat on a table. It was extremely dark, since, although it was early in the morning, the weather on this particular part of the city kept the sky dark. It didn't help either that the windows were closed with thick curtains draped over them. The man sitting on the head of the table caressed the snake's head with one finger.

"It was good that Lucius could borrow us his humble house." Voldemort said.


"My, my. Cheery today, are we, Severus."

The tall man sighed and looked away. "It has been a rough week for me, Lord."

"I can imagine. But I trust that, if you oh-so-urgently summoned me here, you have information for me. You know Nagini doesn't enjoy long trips, and she is angry as she is already. Wouldn't want to send us home without a gift, would you Severus?" the Dark Lord said. Severus's eye twitched at the hidden threat, but he didn't even blink when the snake hissed to press her owner's point. The Head of Slytherin would be damned if he were afraid of snakes. Hell, he'd be damned if he were afraid of anything. He took a sip of his coffee and sighed, looking for the right words. It would have to wait, though, as Dobby walked slowly and shakily up to their table, looking at the floor. Oh, how both men despised elves. Both frowns deepened and the atmosphere heightened.

"Uh-uhm. Dobby sorry for interrupt Master Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, but Master Malfoy sent Dobby to ask what Master Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named likes for eat." The elf said slowly, trying not to stutter.

"We don't want food. And tell Lucius that one more interruption will end badly for him and his precious son." Dobby nodded and disappeared. "Huh. Stupid elves. Can't stand them. Anyway, where were we?"

Severus looked into Voldemort's eyes. "I trust you are aware that Harry Potter is alive and – "

"And living with his relatives, yes. Do come to a concrete point, Severus. My patience is wearing thin."

"He will be entering Howarts soon, Master."

"I know – "

"And you know that Dumbledore will favor him and protect him. Besides, I am positive that he'll enter Gryffindor." He took a deep breath when Voldemort raised an eyebrow – if it could be called that – in interest. At least he wasn't halfway down Nagini's slender throat now. "Thus, it may interest you… something I have found recently."

"Do tell me."

"Dumbledore has been a bad player. It is of public knowledge that he saves things up until he finds a use for them, but any time before that, he just throws them away and never sees to them. The Potter brat is no different. Dumbledore placed the baby nine years ago on the Dursley's entrance and has never even thought of seeing if he is alright or not. He is completely sure that the blood wards will keep you away from him at all costs." Severus said. Before Voldemort could say anything, he continued. "I don't judge him for that. The blood wards are working perfectly. But… the blood wards are only for you."

"You will have to make yourself clear, Severus."

"If the blood wards can keep you away from Potter, then we must keep Potter away from the blood wards." He said. "We must take him away from that house before Dumbledore writes the letter and checks if Potter is still there. Or if he is alive, for that matter. But what if when he checks, Potter is not there. What if the letter arrives to a disappeared recipient."

"You mean we should take Harry Potter before he gets sent to Howarts?"

"That is exactly what I mean."

"Good." Voldemort said, patting Nagini's head. "Very good." He smiled. "But then, Severus, I see it fit that you get him."

Snape was completely overthrown by the comment. "E-excuse me, Lord?"

"You should get the Potter kid."

"W-with all due respect, sir… Why me?"

"It's actually very simple, Severus. Let's say that the wards are not only meant for me, but for any magical being that gets into the house before the letter is due to arrive. And why wouldn't Dumbledore forgive Severus Snape? He was only getting in the house to check on the son of his beloved, lost love. He didn't mean any harm." he ended cruelly. Severus felt his rage boil. Voldemort chuckled. "Besides, I am sure you will get him straight to me. Won't you?"

Severus's knuckles were white. It was a fact that Voldemort could read any of his minion's minds any time. Not because he could, really, but because he demanded it. And so, the Dark Tyrant knew almost – almost – everything about Severus, except what the Potions professor had so earnestly and dutifully hidden in his mind with years of practice. He'd be dead if he hadn't. Unfortunately, his dark secrets didn't include his love for Lily… and Voldemort knew it. And he knew he had been the one to murder her. And he enjoyed it. He liked when his Death Eaters suffered. That meant there wasn't anything better for them out there, and that made them even more loyal. But that wasn't the only thing angering Severus as of now. The last sentence had confirmed his suspicions: Voldemort only wanted to test him. It was a silent challenge: 'What is bigger, your love for Lily, or your loyalty for Voldemort?'

He would have to choose the latter if he wanted to preserve the first.

"Fine." He said. "I'll do it."



"And you'll bring him here."


"Until then."

Severus bowed his head and stared as his Master disappeared from sight. A heavy sigh took over him and he apparated right outside the castle.

"Harry." Vernon called. Harry climbed down from his stool by the kitchen counter and sprinted towards the living room.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

"You lazy kid. Why don't I see my midmorning snack, eh?"

"Sorry, Uncle Vernon. Coming."

He rushed back to the kitchen and, instead of continuing washing the plates he began to prepare a sandwich, hoping to God his Uncle wasn't that hungry. When he took it back to the living room, Vernon eyed him carefully.

"So, brat, I suppose you heard we're going to be out tonight. Since Figg is not around this week, I'll suppose we'll have to leave you alone. You won't cause any trouble, will you?"

Harry sighed and his shoulders sagged. He liked going to Mrs. Figg's house. She always gave him food and hot chocolate, and tucked him in in a warm bed. She told him stories of her childhood, and taught him bits of foreign languages. He supposed he'd have to go with sleeping inside the cupboard. At least his nightly beatings would give him a one-night rest. He nodded.

Severus cursed everyone and everything as he apparated in front of Number 4 Privet Drive. The cheery equality of the houses disturbed him and he glared at it. He didn't know how he'd react. He was going to see the oh-so-pampered Potter again. Surely the boy was chubby from eating sweets and would scream as he took him away. He rolled his eyes. He hates spoiled children, and he hated Potter just because, well… He held the Family Name of his worst enemy. He easily opened the front door of the house and silently strode in. The house was dark and silent. Wand in hand, he began to walk upstairs. He looked into every room and found, with a pang of distaste, that all the rooms were empty. His anger grew as he stared at the room full of broken toys and a double-sized bed. Surely that was Potter's room. With a flick of his long, black cape, Snape walked downstairs, and just as he was preparing to leave, he heard a faint sound.

Something resembling a whimper.

He froze. He could hear, in the distance, someone crying. A small kid. He frowned and slowly followed the sounds. Another whimper. A low moan. The sounds, surprisingly, took him to a cupboard. He pressed his ear to the white door. There it was. Crying. But what was a child doing alone in a house, crying in a cupboard. He flicked his wand and murmured 'Alohomora'. The door creaked open and he heard a gasp. He squinted as he looked inside and distinguished a small form huddled into a corner. The smell of blood hit his nostrils and he found the light bulb. He pulled on the fragile cord and the yellow, dim light illuminated a dirty face. Snape could barely believe what he was seeing. He gave one step closer to the boy.

The little child's face was covered in tears. He had one swollen eye and one large bruise going to his temple and down to his cheekbone, not to mention the one covering his jaw. His big, wet, green eyes – the eyes of Lily, crying – stared up at him from behind rounded glasses. The child was trembling so bad he might as well be having a seizure. He lifted two thin – painfully thin – welted, bruised, oddly angled arms to protect his face as he whimpered.

Something odd took over Severus. His dream was coming true. The image of Potter, (and the child was the spitting image of James Potter alright), huddled into a corner, cowering before Severus, hurt and bruised and crying. But it was not right. The pain could be seen from Lily's eyes. He slowly knelt down and looked at the boy. He noticed with distaste that his ribs protruded from his skin. His torso was awful as well. Bruised, bloodied, welted and even burnt. He looked up into those eyes and sighed. Fine, he had been wrong. Potter was not spoiled. Rage boiled within him and he rubbed his eyes. He suddenly felt very tired.


The child flinched. He huddled more within himself and his brows furrowed. "I-I'm s-sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

A cracked sob escaped the child's lips. It was always worse when he had to say his own misdeeds. Uncle Vernon always made sure that he 'forgot' one. "I-I… I…" But… he hand't done anything to this man! What was he supposed to say. "S-sorry."

"Stop apologizing, Potter. We're leaving."

The child lowered his trembling arms and looked up at Snape. "W-what?"

"You heard me. Come on."

"W-who are you? Where are we going?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I am Severus Snape. I'm taking you away from this house."

"But Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia and Dudley will be back tomorrow morning and…"

"And they'll be back to find that you're gone. Come on!"

He grabbed the boy's wrist, but let go when he uttered a choked cry. He pulled his arm close to his chest and screwed his eyes shut. "Ngg…"

"Is your wrist fractured?"

"I-I don't know."

Snape sighed again. The child was too hurt to travel by apparating. He briefly wondered if his master's Floo could be used in muggle chimneys. He had said they worked in any chimney. He took one last glance at the boy and gently grabbed his other wrist, hoping to Merlin it wasn't injured.

And it wasn't, so he pulled the boy gently to his feet and took him to the chimney in the living room. He noticed the boy was limping badly and he sighed. Volemort would have many things to say.

Harry looked up at the man. Could it be? Was his dream finally coming true? Every single night he went to bed hoping against hope that someone, anyone, would take him away from his miserable life. He had always imagined a knight in shining armor, or a winged being. Or even Batman or Superman. He had never imagined a tall, black-robed man who looked more like a villain than a hero, to appear in his cupboard and tell him that he was taking him away. Where were they going, anyway? The door was the other way around. He was not about to question the man, though. He stared with interest as he fetched a small, maroon bag from his pocket and opened it. Then he took out a long, thin stick. Harry subconsciously wrapped his arms around his torso. Sticks reminded him of canes, and canes were the most painful of all. His eyes grew wide as the man flicked the wand and murmured something, and a yellow light shot from his wand.

Fire appeared. Harry yelped. Then the man tossed some green powder from his bag and the fire turned green.

"Okay. Ready to leave, Potter?"

I much appreciate reviews!