"I see."
"But it's okay. I mean, it's no big deal."
"Mm-hm." She waved her wand about a bit more. "And you never had them properly set?"
"Sorry?"
"The bones. You were raised by Muggles, correct? And you never went to a Muggle Healer and had the bones set so they would heal properly."
"Ummm." Harry hugged the thin cloth of the gown tighter to himself. What did it matter if he had always had to tend to himself? It wasn't like anybody else was going to.
"That's answer enough, I imagine." For the first time, she picked up a clipboard and jotted something down on it. "I want you to tell me about your eating habits, when you were at home."
Harry frowned. "Like what I like to eat?"
"No. More like, how often you ate, and what kinds of things you had. Nutritionally."
"I don't know. Regular stuff, I guess." This was skating too close to that horrid list of rules Snape had given to him last night. Even thinking about the list made him want to scream.
Madam Pomfrey sighed. "The truth now, Harry, if you please."
He gritted his teeth. "And if I don't please?"
"Manners, Potter," growled a voice from the other side of the curtain, and Harry jumped, having nearly forgotten Snape was there. "Mind your cheek."
Something inside him snapped, and he hopped off the bed and grabbed up his clothes from the floor where he'd dropped them. "I won't, I'm not . . . I'm not doing this anymore. You can't make me."
Snape burst through the curtain like a demon. His scowl could have scared demons. "I can and I will. Get back on that bed."
Harry shook his head, and tried to make a break for it. This was stupid and surreal and he wasn't going to do it anymore!
But Snape snagged his arm as he was dodging past, and whirled him around so they were face to face again. "I am not playing here, Potter. You will remain here until you are given leave to go."
Tugging at his arm -- the same one Snape had grabbed to haul him out of the showers before -- proved fruitless, but damn it hurt! He couldn't suppress a wince as the man's bony fingers pressed into already existing bruises, and when Snape's other hand came up, he ducked reflexively, but the professor only took his other arm in hand, and lifted him to put him back on the hospital bed.
"Professor," Madam Pomfrey said. "I'm sure Mr. Potter will be fine if you let him go now."
"Of course," he said, and released Harry, stepping back just enough to block Harry's only point of exit and folding his arms across his chest. "Pray continue."
Madam Pomfrey took the clothes out of Harry's hands and set them gently on the bed beside him. His trainers were still on the floor; if he'd escaped, he would have had to back to the dungeons barefoot. "I know this must be rather frightening for you," she said, and Harry looked away and shook his head, "But it really is for your own good."
Harry didn't bother to correct her. Why should he care anymore? He was in for it, no matter what he did. In a low voice, he said, "Fine. I ate whatever was left. And only if my chores were done."
"Whatever was left from what?" she asked quietly.
"From when they ate, the Dursleys, I mean. If there was anything leftover, and I'd done my chores right, then I could eat."
"And was that often the case?"
Harry sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. . . . "I got to eat almost every day. In the summer, when I work outside, it's easy to fill up on water from the hose so I don't get hungry."
"I see." She scribbled something more on her chart. "How did you get along with your friends at school?"
"I didn't have any."
"None?"
Harry snapped, "I couldn't very well, could I? With Dudley threatening anyone who talked to me."
"All right. And have you ever used drugs or alcohol?"
"No!" What kind of stupid questions were these anyway?
"Easy, Harry, I'm almost done."
Well, thank god for that. "And then I can go?"
"Of course. Just a couple more questions. How safe do you feel at home?"
Harry frowned. "Safe? I don't know. Compared to what?" He was almost sure he heard a snort or something from Snape, but when he shot a glance at the man, his face was as scowly as ever.
"Compared to, say, when you were at primary school, or here."
He studied her face for a minute then shrugged. "I'm most safe here," he admitted and smirked. "You know. No Dudley."
"Do you worry about being alone with him?"
"No. I worry about being alone with him and his friends." He shrugged one shoulder again. "They're bigger than me. I'm faster, though."
"All right then. I'll have you lie back on the bed now, let's move the gown down around your hips, that's right dear."
Harry complied, lying back, feeling naked despite the gown, and sick to his stomach. His ribs were dotted with bruises, and his arms looked like someone had made grabbing him a national sport. He also had part of a handprint around his throat, from when his Uncle had choked him a little, last time he'd failed to prune the roses properly.
"You tell me if any of this hurts, all right?" Madam Pomfrey asked, and started pushing on parts of his chest and stomach with her finger tips. He didn't say anything, but couldn't help wincing a few times when she pressed tender areas. "And if you could turn over onto your stomach . . ."
Once again he obeyed, burying his face in the pillow as heat washed over him. He tried to stay as still as possible, hoping this would be over soon. When she pressed one part of his lower back, he yelped and flinched away.
She patted his back gently. "My apologies, Mr. Potter. We're all done for now. You may get dressed while I prepare a few potions for you."
"Thanks," he breathed, not sure he could do much more than that. As he sat upright, he caught Snape's gaze, and was troubled by the look of frank speculation he saw there. Then both of them left the quartered off area, so he could get dressed, which he did in a hurry.
When he came out from behind the curtain, the two of them were huddled close together, near Madam Pomfrey's potion cabinet, obviously talking, but he couldn't hear what they were saying.
"Can I go now?" He looked at Snape. "Sir?"
Snape turned his dark gaze on Harry and waved his wand in a quick arc. "In a moment. Come here, please."
Harry couldn't help but drag his feet, but once he got to his Head of House, the man merely shoved a potion at him. "Drink that."
It was blue and sludgy looking. Harry sniffed it and almost gagged.
"Drink it, Potter," Snape warned. "It's a nutritional supplement. You'll take another dose in the morning, and every day thereafter at breakfast."
Harry scowled then plugged his nose and chugged the foul brew down. It tasted worse than it smelled. He choked a bit on it, but managed to keep it from coming back up.
"And this one," Snape said, handing him a metal cup with a clear liquid half filling it. "For your bones."
With a sigh, Harry drank that one, too, plus two more that Madam Pomfrey handed him -- one for his bruised kidneys and one for his "contusions," whatever the hell those were -- until he was swimming in potions. Finally, he was allowed to go, with strict instructions to return on Friday for another check up.
Even though he was ecstatic to be let free, he had to admit he felt better than he had in a long time, almost free of pain. It was a good feeling, even if he knew he was in for a world of hurt when school ended.
TBC . . .
A/N: Thanks to each of my readers and reviewers and to those who are both! Every day is a good day to review! Hugs to all.
*Chapter 8*: Chapter 8
Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 8
By jharad17
Disclaimer: Not mine. Alas.
Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.