The cauldron bubbled away quite happily.  The potion smelled well made, but the colour was still off.

"Hmm.  You cut the Scabiosa too thickly," Snape commented.

"No I didn't!" replied Harry hotly.

"Mr Potter.  What have I told you repeatedly about this class?"

Harry sighed, but knew that a response was needed or that Snape would start into his lecture, again.  "Potion making is a delicate art which requires time, knowledge and patience.  I have to concentrate and keep an awareness of the potion's balance at all times and must always refer to you as ‘Professor' or ‘Sir', sir."

"Good" said Snape shortly, choosing to ignore Harry's lack of enthusiasm.  "What can you do to correct this?" he then asked, indicating the potion.

Harry thought on it for a moment.  They had been working on his potion skills, or rather the lack of, for the last week. 

He knew the different qualities most common ingredients had and how they could affect certain potions.  Now he was learning how to ‘balance' these affects in order to get the most out of them in which ever potion Snape decided to put to him whilst simultaneously wishing he could just drown either himself of the Professor in the cauldron's contents and get it all over with.  

"Put more dried nettles in, Sir?" Harry suggested. 

Snape did not answer, which generally meant that Harry was supposed to try it and see what happened.

Unsure of how much to put in he grabbed a handful and slowly sprinkled them in until the colour changed from a yellowy green to a dark green.  ‘What?  Ugh.  Now there's too much Scabiosa AND Dried Nettles. . .  Now what?  Hmm.  Well, how about. . .'

Pulling out the rest of the ingredients Harry added a ‘bit more of everything' to try and equal out the amounts in the pot.  He thought that it was a pretty logical idea.  That is, until it started to expand and quickly boiled over.

Snape emptied the cauldron's contents with a flick of his wand and fixed Harry with a stare that clearly asked ‘what was that?'  Harry looked away sheepishly, trying to ignore the gooey substance that now adorned the dungeon floor.

"Well?" demanded Snape.

"Um.  I got it wrong?"  Harry asked, trying to look innocent but failing.

"Obviously.  But what did you get wrong?"

Harry shrugged and prepared for the Professor's oncoming lecture with a hidden sigh.

"When I told you that you had added too much of something you should have searched for ideas of possible ways to rectify the problem.  Yet, once again, your lack of patience got the better of you and you simply took the first option that came into your head!" Snape berated him.

"It wasn't a bad idea!" Harry defended.  "It was working until . . ."

"Until it didn't work?" questioned Snape.  "This is not like cooking a meal Potter.  One does not simply ‘add more of everything' and just make a bigger batch in order to level out the ingredients!  For one, your cauldron was much too small for that and two, there is such a thing as overkill.  Too many ingredients can make any potion completely useless."

Harry sighed.  He was tired and he had only been with Snape for an hour that day.  "What should I have done then?"

"Observation should have told you that.  The smell was right, which meant that the components where mixing nicely.  However, the colour was too light, meaning. . .?"

"There was too much Scabiosa," Harry finished.

"Correct.  Conversely the fact that it was still light in colour means?"

"The- er. . . Uh?"

Snape rolled his eyes.  "That the components had not yet bonded Mr Potter.  Now, what does that mean?"

"We- er, can. . . take it back out?"

"Well done.  I am glad you caught up, I was beginning to fear that you lacked intelligence," Snape chided sarcastically.  Harry just glared at him.

"By increasing the temperature the ingredients would split, enabling you to extract any unwanted particles and clean up your potion."

"Like cream?" Harry piped up without thinking.  He recoiled at Snape's withering glare.

"This is not a cooking class!"

----------------------- Two hours later ------------------------

Harry held a vial of freshly brewed healing salve.  He let out a heartfelt sigh of relief as he looked at it.  ‘Finally!  I did it!  My first usable potion.  Heh.  It actually feels pretty good.'

"Put that vial on my desk and go for a break Potter before you drive us both over the edge," sighed Snape as he sunk into his chair.  However, Harry had found a new burst of energy and enthusiasm at his success.

"I think I get it now though Sir!  Can't I try another one?  I'll do it on my own this ti-"

Snape cut him off.  "Enough.  One accomplishment and you think you have mastered everything.  It shall take a lot more time and effort for you to truly grasp the concept of decent potion making, though, admittedly, you have shown some progress. . ." 

Snape seemed to think a moment before he added.  "Get some fresh air and return here this afternoon.  If you are really serious about wanting to learn more, I suggest that you read up on a few things before returning."

Harry left with a huff.  He couldn't quite place it, but for some reason Snape always, always managed to put a dampener on everything and make him feel. . . inadequate.  Like whatever he had achieved wasn't worth anything. 

-------------------------------------------------------

The sun bore down on the school grounds as he sat beneath a sturdy tree.  Eating some sandwiches that Dobby had made for him, Harry began to flick through his books.  He must have read the scribbled entries over a hundred times.  He knew most of them by heart so that he could use them if Snape ever chose one of the referenced potions, but still had no ideas as to who his silent aid was.

Opening his eyes the familiar figure of the school Headmaster stood before him.  Harry sat up quickly.  "Oh, er Professor Dumbledore.  I, um, must have dozed off. . ."

The Headmaster smiled at him warmly.  "Quite understandable, my dear boy.  I sometimes find myself nodding off in the sun too."

Harry smiled back at the ancient wizard as he sat down beside the boy.  "I see you are studying hard," the Headmaster commented.  "Very commendable."

Harry blushed slightly.  "Yeah, um.  Professor Snape is helping me to get better at potions."

"Is that so?  Well I hope you thank him properly, Harry.  Professor Snape does not make a habit of giving up his free time unless he considers the student fit to share his skills."

Harry looked up at the Headmaster, confusion evident in his face.  "Are you sure he's not just bored or something?  I mean, I know I'm no good at potions, he keeps telling me that, and I doubt that he'd freely choose to spend extra time with me."

The Headmaster returned Harry's look with a bemused one.  "Has Professor Snape actually said ‘You are no good at potions?'  And why indeed do you believe he has chosen to spend some time with you?"

This caused Harry to ponder for a moment.  ‘Why is the Headmaster always so cryptic?  And what is he talking about?  Snape ALWAYS says my potion making skills are dismal. . . Although, not recently. . .  And why DOES he keep making me go to extra classes?  To keep me out of trouble?  To keep an eye on me?  That sounds about right.'

"He hasn't said I'm bad at it for a while," Harry admitted.  "But he never says anything good about it either!  I keep trying and work as hard as I can but all he ever says is ‘not bad' or ‘adequate.'  Never ‘well done, you've done really well' or, or...."

"I'm impressed" offered Dumbledore.  Harry looked up sharply, causing the Headmaster to chuckle lightly.  "Yet you do not, thankfully, seem to be giving up."

"Of course not!  I'm going to make him see that I can do it!" Harry stated before thinking. 

The Headmaster chuckled again.  "Then I believe that Professor Snape has found a very effective persuasion for you.  Rather than give up completely, you try harder to succeed."

For a second time Harry had to sit and ponder the words he had just heard.  ‘Snape wants me to try harder?  Well that would make sense.  If he's trying to teach me something he's bound to expect me to work hard.  But why?  He's never bothered before?'

"Professor?"

"Harry?"

"How come Professor Snape is trying so hard?"

Dumbledore just smiled.  "Professor Snape, Harry, is a Hogwarts teacher.  As such, he will teach his students to the best of his ability.  If you have shown some kind of skill in his proffered subject, it is only natural that he would want to push you to your greatest abilities."

"Not if he hates you. . ."  Harry grumbled.

The Headmaster looked saddened by the darkness of the boy's words.  "I am sure that he does not hate you Harry."

"Yes he does." Harry growled back.  "He hated my dad and now he looks for even the tiniest of things that I do wrong just so that he can insult me about it!"

"Ahh.  Well, it is true that he and your father never saw eye to eye Harry, but has Professor Snape ever told you that he hated you?"

"No. . . But he doesn't need to!  What he does is enough to tell me that!"

"And what is it, exactly, that he does?"

"He- well he. . . he. . .  he always insults me for everything!"

Dumbledore quipped a smile.  "He tends to do that with most people."

"Well, he. . .  Er.  He's always trying to catch me at something and get me expelled!"

"I do find that expelling you could be used as a fearsome threat, but we all know that only Professor McGonagall or myself are able to expel you.  And, if I may say so, is there not always something to ‘catch you at'?"

Harry blushed.  "W-well, yeah. . . but. . ."

The Headmaster smiled at him knowingly.  "I must beg your pardon Harry.  Whilst I would love to spend the afternoon with you, there are many things that require my attention.

Harry had no doubt that he was telling the truth, but now had a lot on his own mind to be dealing with too.  He nodded politely and watched the wise old wizard retreat back towards the castle. 

‘This is Snape we're talking about.  Of COURSE he hates me!  But. . . If so, why is he helping me?  Why did he save my life?'

 --------

  "You are late Potter," the stern voice spoke across the room.

"No I'm not.  You just said to come back this afternoon, not what time to come back.  Sir," he added as an afterthought. 

Snape's mouth twitched upwards to form his trademark sneer.  "Less cheek Potter.  I expect you to hold to your previous statement and produce a perfect potion without my assistance.  Get your equipment set out."

For the next two hours Harry worked on the potion that he had been tasked with. 

He had expected Snape to come up with the hardest one he could think of.  Something that he knew that Harry was bound to mess up but, grudgingly, Harry had to admit that it wasn't too bad a choice.  Not too difficult but not too easy.  Just enough to get the boy thinking.

Of course, Harry had to hide a smile when the potion he was to brew was named to him.  ‘The Draught of Peace' - the very one that had started all of this.  The one that he had memorised completely from the battered old school book that he had found just over a week ago.

Corking the vial with a triumphant grin that he could no longer hide, Harry placed the only slightly off colour potion before Snape.

The Professor eyed it for a moment then looked at Harry with a face that clearly showed that he was struggling with something.  "You have done better than was expected.  I see for once you actually have studied hard."

Harry's smile remained in place but his feeling of triumph faded a little.  He had wanted to impress this man.  He had wanted to be acknowledged for skills he did have rather than being constantly sneered at as if he where a worthless pest.  He was getting to that point now but. . .  the work was not entirely his own. . .

‘Stupid guilt!  Don't cheapen it!  I did work hard.  I completely deserve to have that fact recognised for once!'

‘Ahh' responded the ‘other' little voice in his head.  ‘But the work you're being recognised for isn't your own.  You just copied it from someone.'

‘So?  I copy Hermione all the time!'

‘That's different.  You get into trouble for that, not praised.  Just think. . . the poor student who must have slaved for hours coming up with those changes, just like you did with that first assignment from Snape. . .'

‘Alright alright.  Tut.  Stupid Gryffindor pride!  Always making things difficult!'

‘I'm your conscience.  It's what I do.'

Harry sighed and dropped his eye level.  "Actually Professor. . . I didn't really do it all by myself. . ."

Snape regarded him then prompted for him to continue.

"I, er, read a book which had a new version of the recipe in it and memorised it.  I know how to follow those instructions and they work really well, but I didn't make them. . ." he trailed off, still scowling inwardly at his conscience which only seemed to smile and wave back to him.

"I see. . ." stated Snape. 

Harry was certain that his next line of speech would be dedicated solely to insulting him and putting him down.  What the Professor did say made the boy lift his head to quickly his neck cricked.

"It must have taken some courage to admit to that."

Harry gaped at the man before him who only scoffed in response.  "Do not think that I will be letting you off for ‘cheating' in my class Mr Potter.  You will be given another recipe to make your own changes to for tomorrow's lesson."

Harry groaned.  ‘Thanks a lot!" 

"Don't blame me!  You cheated!"  

You grassed me up!!" 

"It was for the best."

"No!  Being able to sleep tonight would have been for the best.  Coming clean to Snape was for the insane!"

Placing a slender finger on his lips, Snape sat and pondered for a moment before putting his next question to Harry.  "Where is this ‘book' you mentioned?"

Harry stopped arguing with himself and felt his heart freeze.  "Book?"

"Yes Potter, book.  The one you claim to have been studying from.  Where is it?"

Harry had to think quickly.  He did not want Snape to take the book away from him, but at the same time he could not think up a plausible excuse why not to get it. 

"Uh, in my bag sir. . ."

"Bring it to me." 

With reluctant steps the boy obeyed.  As would anybody with a will to live when Snape gave them an order like that.  He brought the shabby old potions book to the Potion Master's desk and handed it to him.

"Where did you get this?" Snape demanded accusingly after a brief glance at it's inner cover.

"You let me use it!" Harry replied indignantly.  Which was true, to some extent.

"I would not be handing over my own possessions to unskilled student, least of all you, Potter!" Snape snarled at him.

"If I'm so ‘unskilled' why are you wasting your time teaching me anything then?"  Harry snapped back.  "And you did let me use it!  You said on that day I first came down here that I was to choose ‘a number' of books and study!  It helped too!  Why else do you think I started to question the normal books?"

Stopping in mid rant Harry backtracked the conversation a bit.  "Did you just say-?"

Snape smirked.  "Yes Potter.  My possessions.  As in, my book."

"You. . . You made all those notes?  But, It's for sixth years!  You created your own spells at sixteen?"  

"I created those spells at sixteen Potter.  Unlike some, I find value in learning."

Harry stared at him dumbfounded.  ‘What the-  I knew Snape was smart, but. . .  even Hermione hasn't come up with any of her own stuff!  At least. . . I don't think she has. . .  But then. . . Why?'

Swallowing, Harry threw caution in the wind and asked the question he could no longer hold back from the man.  "Why?"

"Why what Potter?"

"Why did you become a teacher?  You hate kids!  And even more than that, you hate me!  Why are you here?"

Standing and walking around the desk to stand before the boy Snape looked at him in a strange way.  Something between a mix of curiosity and indignation.  "Rather impertinent of you to expect me to answer for my choice of action to you Potter.  But you are wrong on a number of levels.  I do not ‘hate' children, I tire of their ineptitude.  And I do not- "

"Sir?"

Snape looked almost pained for a moment, but carried on, obviously trying to seem indifferent about what he was saying.  "I do not ‘hate' you.  Dislike you intensely, find you annoying and unending bother, yes!  But you-"

Harry waited for the man to finish, but he never did.  Instead he walked back round his desk and sat back down. 

"Thanks. . ."  Harry uttered before he lost the courage to do so. 

He doubted anyone had said it before and, as much as he disliked this man, he had to admit.  He hadn't been so much of a git for the past few days, and it seemed that there was a lot more to him than people gave him credit for.

"What?" ordered Snape.

"Just. . Thanks, you know.  For, saving my life and. . . well, helping me out I guess."

If Harry had gone down on one knee and proposed to him, the Professor could not have held a more bewildered and astonished look.

It took a while but Snape eventually retuned to his senses and growled at him.  "Do not, Mr Potter, think for a moment that that will get you anywhere.  I expect a full review of the ‘Draught of the Living Dead' on my desk by 09.00 tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir. . ." 

It could have been his imagination, but Harry was sure that there was far less bite in those words than usual.  Part of him hoped so.  He held no great fondness for the man, but he was also tired of always quibbling and fighting with him.

"Good day Mr Potter," drawled Snape as he put his head back down to work.

"Bye Sir." 

Once again Harry found himself ascending the dungeon staircase and heading towards the library.

‘Maybe things aren't so bad?  Maybe Snape isn't completely evil. . .' 

Opening a huge, dusty tome needed to begin his studies, Harry looked down at the masses of ongoing text and sighed.  ‘Just mostly evil. . .'