God Help the Outcasts

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: I in no way, shape, or form own Harry Potter. That honor belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Summary: While on the run from the Hogwarts letters, Harry slips away from the Dursleys and meets an unexpected stranger.

AN: So this story has been festering for awhile now, and I decided to post it now, in honor of my favorite holiday. So Happy Halloween.

Chapter 1

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No posts on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today—"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys duck, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one—

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer into the sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

"Shake 'em off… shake 'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and Harry shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering…

When it was late enough, and he was sure his relatives were asleep, he quietly slipped on his shoes and snuck out of the room. He tiptoed passed his aunt and uncle's room and made his way outside. He knew he couldn't go far, he had to be back before his uncle woke up but he couldn't sit still.

He started walking up the street, his mind still on who was sending him those letters. He really wanted to know what they said and why whoever was sending them to him was so keen for him to get them. But it didn't really matter now, did it? They weren't even at home anymore. It was unlikely he'd get another one, but maybe when they got back there'd be so many he'd be able to sneak one away.

He had just turned the corner when he ran into something solid. He landed hard on his backside and his eyes darted to the thing he'd knocked into. Only it wasn't a something but a someone. Standing before him was a tall, thin man dressed all in black, looking down at him through curtains of shoulder length black hair.

"Are you lost?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"No," Harry shook his head.

"Where are your parents?" the man took a deep breath, and squatted down so he was on eye level.

"They're dead," he looked away.

"Of course they are," he muttered, running his hand through his hair. "Then where are your guardians?"

Harry pointed over his shoulder in the direction of the hotel.

"I see. Come," he straightened up and held out his hand for the boy. "I will take you back."

"No," he scooted out of reach. "I'm not ready yet."

"Not ready?" a dark brow rose incredulously. "You don't seem to realize how dangerous it is for a child your age to be running around at this hour, not to mention this neighborhood, which is full of all sorts of unsavory characters. So I will take you back to your guardians now. I cannot in good conscious leave you out here on your own. Now, come along, I will hear no more arguments."

"No!" Harry shook his head frantically as tears began streaming down his face. "I'll go back on my own. I promise. Uncle Vernon is going to be so mad."

A frown marred the man's face as he reached for him again. Harry managed to scoot further out of range and get his feet under him. He scrambled to his feet and took off running in the opposite direction. He heard the man say something, but he didn't care, he just had to get away. A moment later, he felt his feet leave the ground, and though he was still trying to run away, he began moving back toward the stranger. He felt arms wrap around him and the next moment it felt like his entire body was being sucked through a tiny straw.

The next thing he knew he was being forced to sit in a hard backed chair as lights flickered on around him.

"Stay," the man commanded sternly and pointed a stick at him.

Harry had no choice but to comply. Even if he'd wanted to make another break for it he found that he was unable to get out of the chair, like he'd been stuck there with glue.

"Now, tell me why…" he trailed off as his dark eyes landed on Harry's arms, which he had crossed protectively over his chest. "Where did you get these?"

The man knelt down in front of him and gently took his arm into his hand. He pushed the baggy sleeve up so he could better see the welts and bruises the Smelting stick had left in the scuffle earlier that week.

"My… my cousin," Harry muttered quietly.

"Does your cousin make a habit of beating you with a stick?"

"No, he just got the stick."

"But he does have a habit of beating you up?" the man pressed.

Harry looked away, he'd already said too much. He'd gotten a week in his cupboard when one of his teachers had written to the Dursleys about the bruises he regularly had from Dudley and his gang.

"I see."

As the man continued to examine his arms, Harry took the opportunity to look around the room he was now in. It was a small, dingy kitchen. There were pots and pans soaking in the sink, and what looked to be the remains of the man's dinner on the stove. The paint on the cupboards was chipped and peeling, and some of the doors looked to be coming off their hinges. And there was an old refrigerator in the corner that was running loudly.

He was brought from his examination as he felt the man start to tug on the hem of his shirt. His eyes darted to him, as he crossed his arms tightly over his stomach.

"Fine," he held up his hands. "I will not pry, for now. Now, tell me, what is your… name?"

Their eyes met for the first time since they had arrived at the house. The dark gaze darted upward for a fraction of a second before returning to green.

"Harry," he answered.

"Of course it is," the man sighed heavily. "Well, Harry, my name is Severus Snape. Now, you will be staying here tonight."

"No, I can't," Harry shook his head emphatically. "I have to get back. Uncle Vernon's gonna kill me if I'm not there in the morning."

"We will both be going to speak with your aunt and uncle in the morning," Snape pushed to his feet and went over to the sink.

He picked up a glass from the draining board and filled it with water. He turned back and handed it to Harry.

"Drink that," he commanded quietly. "Then I will show you where you will be sleeping."

"How do I know you didn't put anything in it?" Harry asked suspiciously.

The Dursleys were forever telling Dudley not to take food or drink from strangers, as they could drug it and take him away. They never pressed this issue for Harry, but he had listened.

"I did," Snape admitted, a smirk pulling at the corners of his thin mouth. "I added a little something to help you sleep."

"Oh," he said lamely, he hadn't expected that answer.

"Just drink it," Snape encouraged. "I promise you no harm will come to you in this house."

Harry wasn't sure why, but he trusted this man to keep his word. He lifted the glass and drank it. When it was empty, Snape returned it to the sink and led Harry out of the kitchen. He led him up a flight of stairs and opened the first door on the right. Inside was a small bedroom with a desk, dresser, and a twin sized bed.

"The bathroom is across the hall," Snape explained. "My room is at the end of the hall. If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask."

Harry nodded to show he understood. He then made his way over to the bed, suddenly very tired. He crawled beneath the covers and was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Severus watched the boy made himself comfortable in his childhood bedroom. He was pleased that his sleeping draught had worked, even heavily diluted as it had been. Though, that meant he had to go in and remove the boy's glasses, before he broke them more than they already were. Once that was completed, he quietly made his way out of the room and turned off the light. He left the door slightly ajar just in case the boy needed anything during the night.

He then made his way down the hall to the living room. He summoned a decanter of wine and a glass and took a seat in his favorite armchair. He wasn't quite sure what to do with this new information that had fallen into his lap. On the one hand, he could return the boy to his obviously abusive and neglectful relatives, after having a stern talking to, more threatening, them. On the other, he could… No, he really couldn't even entertain that thought. But then again, could he really subject a child, much less Harry Potter, Lily's son, his best friend's only child, to that fate?

He gave a heavy sigh and drained his glass. It wouldn't help anything to fret about it now, he would decide what to do after he spoke with the boy's relatives. With that thought in mind, he pushed to his feet, did a quick check on his potions, made sure the house was secure, and, after one more look in on the boy, headed off to bed.

Ammie: Okay, so while reading The Sorcerer's Stone it occurred to me that Harry was in the same town as Snape, if only for one night. So with that knowledge this fic was born. Anyway, please let me know what you think.