SS

The moment they stepped through the floo, Severus tightened his grip around the child's frail frame, feeling Harry's body tense as the flames spat them out into the quiet sitting room. The gentle crackle of the hearth was the only sound as Severus brushed the soot from his cloak and shifted Harry carefully in his arms.

The boy's head rested against his shoulder, eyes half-lidded but alert enough to recognize where he was. His body stiffened, small hands clutching the fabric of Severus's robes as if waiting for the blow that would surely follow.

"Harry," Severus murmured softly, his voice low but deliberate, "you're safe now."

No answer. Just a quiet sniffle. The child's breathing hitched again, uneven, like he was trying very hard not to cry. Severus exhaled through his nose and crossed the room to the sofa, lowering Harry gently onto the cushions. The boy immediately tried to sit up, panic flickering across his features.

"I-I can stand, sir," Harry stammered, his voice trembling. "I can stand, I promise. I didn't mean to-"

"Harry." Severus's tone wasn't harsh, but the single word was enough to make the boy freeze mid motion. "You are not in trouble."

Harry blinked rapidly, confusion flickering behind his exhaustion. "But... I fought you," he whispered. "I hit you. I didn't mean to but-"

"You were frightened." Severus knelt in front of him, opening a small kit that had appeared with a quiet summoning spell. Glass vials clinked softly against each other, the sound sharp in the still room. "That is not a crime."

Harry's lip trembled, but he didn't argue. His hands still curled into fists in his lap, as though ready to defend himself at any moment. When Severus reached for one of his wrists, the child instinctively pulled back, shaking his head.

"Please, don't... I'll fix it, I swear-"

"Harry." This time Severus's voice was firmer, but not cruel. "Let me see."

For a long moment, the boy didn't move. Then, hesitantly, he extended his right wrist. The bandages were loose and stained with dark red spots, the edges crusted and frayed. Severus's expression did not change, but inside, a storm brewed. He carefully unwrapped the fabric, revealing the raw, tender skin beneath.

Harry turned his face away; cheeks wet with fresh tears. "I wasn't trying to-... I just didn't want him to-..."

Severus stopped his hand midair. "Your uncle?"

Harry nodded, barely a whisper escaping his lips.

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint bubbling of a potion as Severus opened another vial. His long fingers were steady as he dipped a cloth into the liquid and began cleaning the wounds with slow, methodical care.

Harry winced once but didn't pull away this time.

"Does it sting?" Severus asks quietly after a pause.

"A little..." Harry admitted, his voice small.

"It will heal properly now," the older man said. He finished wrapping the fresh bandage and then rested his hand lightly over Harry's, the gesture almost uncertain. "You are safe here, Harry. Do you understand?"

Harry swallowed, his throat tight. "But... aren't you mad at me."

"Mad?" Severus blinked, startled by the simplicity of the question. "Why would I be mad?"

"I... made a scene." Harry said. "I wasn't listening. You had t-to... make me drink that potion."

Severus's hand hesitated for a fraction of a second before he spoke again, quieter this time. "You were frightened. I am not angry with you, Harry. I am... concerned."

Harry's gaze lifted slowly, searching his face for some sign of mockery or impatience. But there was none. The only thing he found was exhaustion, and something else faint but unmistakable.

Care.

Harry didn't know what to do with that, so he looked away. "You're still being nice," he murmured, as if it were a trick.

Severus allowed a faint sigh to escape. "I do not see the benefit in punishing a child for being afraid." He paused, watching the boy's hunched shoulders. "Especially not one who has had enough of that for a lifetime."

Harry's lip quivered, and before Severus could say more, the boy leaned forward, pressing his face into the older man's robes. It wasn't quite a hug, but it was the closest Harry could manage.

Severus went still, the faintest tremor running through his chest before he raised a tentative hand and rested it gently on the boy's back.

"Rest now," he murmured. "We will speak more when you are ready."

Harry nodded against him; eyes fluttering closed as the warmth of the fire filled the silence between them.

For the first time in a long while, Severus didn't feel the need to move or speak or retreat. He simply sat there, holding the boy as the night carried on, the firelight flickering softly across the dark walls of his quaint house.