Monday. Monday. Monday.

Harry hated Mondays.

Occulmency lessons were on Mondays.

Harry hated Occlumency.

The first Occlumency lesson had been a wretched disaster, and it all went downhill from there. Every Monday it was the same thing; the Potions Master would invade Harry's mind again and again with Legilimency, but there would be no positive result of any sort from their lesson. Snape would get angry and start in on the insults, and Harry would have to take it all without a word. In the beginning, the quick-tempered Gryffindor would retort and backtalk his professor, but that only led to more angry words, detentions, and point deductions. In the end, Harry just got used to it and simply stopped caring.

The end of those tedious lessons would find Harry both physically and emotionally exhausted, ready to collapse into bed for another night of restless sleep.

Harry thought that this Monday would be the same. He would go to the lesson, endure the attacks, suffer the insults and try not to break down before the night ended.

But he would be wrong. This particular Monday would not be the same, in fact, this Monday would be very different, and it would change everything.

7 O'clock and it was time for "Remedial Potions".

Harry forced himself down to the dungeons, where awaiting his arrival would be another brutal night of painful, unforgiving memories.

Harry tried, he really did, but how was one suppose to 'clear his mind'? How could one just think about nothing, empty his or her mind of conscious thought and just...be? Harry did not understand and at this point, he did not want to understand. As far as Harry knew, Professor Snape could care less whether he learned or not.

The young wizard signed with melancholy as he came upon the dungeon door. It was five minutes to seven; Harry was early for once, not that it would matter to Snape, he always found some reason to deduct points. Harry knocked thrice on the lab door and waited. A few seconds later, a familiar voice, cold and full of disdain, emerged from behind the stone walls.

"Enter," the voice uttered.

Another Occlumency lesson had come calling. Harry put on his face of indifference and answered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus Snape the esteemed potions master and Legilimency and Occulmency expert sat at his office desk moodily. Another Monday had come; another night to be wasted, another hour of tiresome Legilimency, another lesson with Potter making a complete and utter mockery of the refined art of Occlumency. As if Severus Snape did not have enough on his hands, Dumbledore had to shove Potter onto him for hourly sessions of Occulmency every week. Every second day of the week that is; every Monday to be exact. This was the precisely why Mondays were the Potion master's least favourite day of the week.

A large stack of third and fourth year essays sat in two neat piles on his desk. The magical clock showed the time to be exactly five minutes before seven. Potter should be here any time now, thought Severus as he scribbled a 'D' on the paper before him. Was it just him, or have kids these days ceased evolving? It was true, the homework he marked, instead of getting better, seemed to get worse and worse as the year wore on. Where had all the competent students gone?

Severus groaned with annoyance when he heard a tapping from the door, spelling the stack of essays away he uttered one, single word.

"Enter."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry opened the door and walked warily into enemy territory, he braced himself for the jeering comment that always started the night and it issued faithfully from the Potion master's mouth just as he closed the door.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said in an even, monotonous voice, "on time for once I see, I was beginning to think you were not capable of such simple tasks."

Harry ignored the stinging remark and simply sat himself down on the familiar chair, awaiting the attack he knew would come. He tried to breathe easy even as his heart drummed with trepidation, the Gryffindor knew and dreaded what was to come.

"Dare I hope there be an improvement today, Mr. Potter?" Snape jeered with contempt. "Or will it be the usual...failure?"

Harry again ignored the insult, there would be more where those came from, he would ignore them all, as he always did.

"Legillimens!" The attack came, as usual, from out of nowhere.

A wave of memories flooded Harry's vision.

"Get to your cupboard now, runt!" Uncle Vernon gave him a hard shove and slammed the cupboard door in his face. Harry laid in the dark cradling his cheek where Vernon had struck him. It wasn't his fault he did better than Dudley on the test; Harry had even made an effort to do badly, he didn't think his stupid cousin was that bad.

...

"That's my china, you stupid boy! You be paying for that, just wait till Vernon gets home. I'll have him teach you something about clumsiness. And how dare you waste perfectly good food!" Aunt Petunia screamed at the young boy crying on the floor. "Clean that up now and don't even think about supper tonight, or tomorrow for that matter!" The woman swung a rag at him and stomped out of the room. Harry crawled on his hands and feet, picking up the pieces of broken china and wiping the floor clean of soup, all the while trying to stop the tears.

"Pathetic as usual, Potter. If it is possible, I do believe you have gotten worse!"

"Freak! That's what you are, that's all you'll ever be!" Dudley and his gang chased 7-year-old Harry into an alley. "What's wrong, freak? Nowhere to run?" They laughed and jeered as they advanced on the smaller boy.

...

"Miserable little parasite's even more worthless than his mother, and that pitiful husband of hers!" Aunt Marge taunted with a look of absolute disgust on her face. They were laughing at him, all of them, they were always laughing at him.

"Your incompetence never cease to astound me, even the dimmest Muggle would have been able to resist me by now, by instinct if nothing else!"

"Get to work and stop that snivelling, or I'll give you something to cry about!" Vernon whacked Harry upside the head, sending him tumbling.

"Oh look, the poor little freak is upset," Dudley taunted, "Wanna know why Santa didn't get you a present? Cause you're a freak! That's what dad says, you're bad and nobody loves you."

Aunt Petunia, tearing up a Christmas card Harry made; Uncle Vernon, locking him in the cupboard while the family went to the May Day festival; Dudley, buried in a room full of birthday gifts while Harry tossed away the wrappings; Riper the bulldog chasing him up a tree, tearing the legging of his trousers as his relatives urged the dog on, never ceasing their jeering laughter.

"Again, Potter! How many times do I have to say it? Clear your mind!" Snape shouted angrily.

On and on they went, again and again, memory after memory. Over the next hour Snape continued to tear the memories from Harry's mind and berate him when he failed to block the relentless attacks. Finally, much to the relief of both men, the Potions Master withdrew, lowered his wand and stowed it away.

The Legilimency attacks had stopped, the verbal tirade, however, was not half finished. Harry had fell out of the chair. He knelt, panting and heaving on his hands and knees, gasping for air. The emotions he was feeling only made the physical exhaustion worse. Though he was glad the attacks had stopped, Harry struggled to deal with everything that he was feeling; sadness, resentment, hopelessness, dejection and most of all, anger.

"Nothing! No improvement whatsoever! What a joke, Potter. Not even Longbottom could be so incompetent," Snape ridiculed, nothing could be more frustrating to a teacher than a student who did not learn no matter what you did. "Do you not even try? It has been months, Potter, months! Looks like the Boy-Who-Lived should be called the Boy-Who-Failed, again and again and again! What do I have to do? I have instructed you lesson after lesson, practice, practice, practice. You must clear your mind! You may not care for these lessons, Potter, but these are essential to not only your own wellbeing, but that of others." Snape continued. Harry felt his anger surging forward like a runaway train with broken brakes. If Snape didn't stop soon, he wouldn't care what the consequences are, he was going to snap.

"Why do you think I am doing this? For my own enjoyment?"

Well, actually Harry believed just that; that Snape used these lessons as an opportunity and excuse to ridicule him.

"Certainly not!" Snape continued. "If Dumbledore had not insisted, I wouldn't be in this situation, teaching some hopeless, ignorant brat who have no desire to learn. You are as pathetic as your pitiful father; a little popularity and you let it all go to your head. James Potter was the same," Severus ranted, "always holding himself on a pedestal, thinking he was so smart, think he knows everything, think he was better than everyone else when there was nothing in that pea sized brain of his but Quidditch and pranks."

Harry clenched his teeth together and glared at the tall wizard, who piercing black eyes stared at him full of undeserved hate and bitter resentment. His breath quickened as he met those eyes; Harry couldn't help but think how meaningless this all was. If only Snape could let go of that stupid grudge everything would be fine. None of this was his fault, why must he be condemned for his father's sins?

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, how many lesson have you come to?" Snape questioned. Harry did not answer. "Sixteen that's how many! Sixteen weeks and you are as amateur as the first week. I do not understand how even James Potter could have fathered such a useless, dimwitted child."

"Oh, would you just SHUT UP!" Harry snapped, his anger finally boiling over as he sprang to his feet. "I have had enough of your condescending crap!"

Snape’s face turned a shade deeper.

"Careful how you speak to me, Potter," the Potions Master snarled dangerously. "That will be 20 points from Gryffindor for disrespect, and 10 more for that foul mouth of yours." Harry ignored him, way too riled up to care. He just couldn't take it anymore. Everything; every word; every cruel jibe, every taunting, mocking sneer the Potions Master had ever said to him came back stampeding.  A tidal wave of repressed anger came rushing forth.

"I don't care! For the last time, I am not my father, I am nothing like him! I am not like you either!"

"Silence!" Snape barked, "Fix that attitude of yours, or I shall fix it for you." But Harry carried on, looking up at the taller man and meeting the glinting eyes.

"I don't give a shit about my attitude! Tell me, Professor, do you like what you see?" Harry asked painfully, fully expecting the Potions Master to jeer and confirm his suspicions. "Cause if you do, then you just some sick, twisted bastard who..." But Severus cut him off.

"Do you think I enjoy these lessons? Trust me when I say I have better things to do with my precious time. For months I gave my time and energy to help you achieve something you obviously do not care to achieve. You should be grateful I am even considering teaching you, if it wasn't for the headmaster, I would have thrown you out of my office long ago."

"Why don't you just throw me out of your office now? It'll be better for everyone!" Harry yelled.

"Be careful what you wish for, Potter. You have no idea how much I would like to do just that. Consider yourself lucky, but let me warn you, I am rapidly losing my patience. Keep this up and not only will you find yourself out of an Occlumency teacher, you will find yourself in detention for the rest of the year!"

"Fuck Occlumency! Fuck detention. I don't god damn care! Why do you hate me so much anyway? What have I ever done to you?"

Severus curled his lips. "Bite your tongue, you insolent boy! Stop this childish nonsense immediately! Another vulgarity out of you and Gryffindor will find themselves out of the running the house cup, wouldn't want that to happen would we?"

"Who cares! Those points are overrated!" Harry snapped, his chest rose and fell as he sucked in quick, harsh breaths. "Answer my question, why do you hate me so damn much?"

"I do not hate you, Mr. Potter," Severus purred. "If I hated you, you would know."

"Oh sure, of course you don’t! Whatever gave me that idea?" Harry scoffed sardonically, throwing up his arms. "I knew my father and his gang always liked you too. They liked you so much in fact, they practically worshiped you! My father was just your bestest pal, wasn't he? He simply adored you; Sirius and Remus and the whole lot of them!"

"What drivel are you speaking of?" Severus tried to keep his temper in rein under the impossible circumstances.

"You hate me, admit it! You have no reason to, but you despise me and treat me like shit." Harry screamed, not caring for the fact that Snape now looked livid. He couldn't stop himself, not even thinking about what he was saying, Harry carried on, letting the words form on their own.

"I treat you no better or worse than you deserve, you irreverent child!" Severus growled with rising ire. How dare the Potter boy speak to him like that; if his Slytherins ever dare to address him with such disrespect they'd find themselves sore in the rear for days. "I am warning you for the last time, Potter. You are perilously close breaching my patience and when they give, things would not go in your favour."

"Fuck you, Snape! Now I really understand why my father hated you so much and why you were ever so unpopular, you're a sorry excuse for a human being. They were right, you are a coward; nothing but an ugly, greasy, Snivellus!"

WHAM!

Harry fell so hard, he didn't even have time to catch himself before slamming his head on the hard dungeon floor with a loud crack.

Harry moaned; he’s had the wind knocked out of him before, but this was really something. He felt like a hippogriff had just reared him in the head; a full-grown, adult hippogriff. The strike came out of nowhere; one minute he was yelling his head off, and the next he felt as if it just about had been knocked off. Harry groaned some more as the jagged pain flaring from his left cheek to the other side of his head, (somewhere above his scar), made his head spin. Harry swallowed, a salty taste lingered in his mouth. Warily, he pushed himself up, sitting sideways with one hand covering the newly formed gash and the other on the floor supporting his weight. The whole world swirled when he opened his eyes, Harry quickly squeezed them shut. A pair of worn spectacles lay bent on the floor, but Harry could care less at the moment, they were rubbish anyway.

XXX

WHAM!

Severus went white with fury the instant the last syllable escaped Harry's vocals. In the blink of an eye, his hand had rose and fell with a gruesome strength, driving the small Gryffindor to the floor.

Severus's heart skipped a beat, he froze.

What had he done? He had hit a student, and not just any student, this was a student he had no authority to discipline. Not only that, he had striked Harry Potter, Dumbledore's Golden Boy; the headmaster would be furious. Furthermore, he had hit him in a way that was not only inappropriate, but brutal. But that dreaded name, Potter had to go and call him that despicable name, out of everything, anything. Not even 'coward' had gotten such a rise out of him.

Snivellus…the name James Potter and his gang of Marauders bestowed on Severus, had not been heard by the potion master for nearly two decades. And now all of a sudden, this spoiled, arrogant scamp of James Potter dared utilize that name! Nobody called him that and got away with it.

Still, he should not have done what he did. He was more than out of line. Forget about getting sacked, forget about Dumbledore; he'd be last week's leftover mashed-potatoes when Minerva and Poppy found out.

With a grunt he bent down and hooked his hand under Harry's chin, ignoring the slight flinch issuing from the boy. With another hand he guided Harry's arm away from the cut. After looking at it for a moment, he sighed with relief.  It looked worse than it was, Potter was fine.

XXX

Harry twisted his head away when Snape reached for him.  His professor had hit him. He couldn't believe Snape had hit him, and so viciously. Not even Uncle Vernon had hurt him so badly before. Rubbing at the hurt, he felt blood down the side of his head, god, that hurt. His cheek throbbed painfully on the other side.

He must be so angry. What was I thinking yelling at him like that, and calling him that horrid name. I am not my father, I’m not, isn't that what I've been trying to convince him all this time? I've just gone and proved myself wrong, now he'll be more convinced than ever that I am an exact replica of James Potter, the egotistic, bigoted bully who took pleasure in hurting people. That's true, I'm not like them, and I’m not like him.

Harry felt miserable; the anger and resentment he felt moments before were replaced with guilt, regret and a touch of fear.

He's going to kill me! I'll be in detention forever, if I'm lucky enough not to be expelled...ten times over.

When the Potions professor reached for his face Harry pulled away, almost instinctively.

"Stop, don't move. Let me see," Snape chided. Harry didn't like it, but he let the Potions Master turn his head towards the light. Was it his imagination or did the man sound genuinely worried? Nah, must be the blow to the head.

Snape pushed the messy locks of hair out of the way and examined the wound, it was bleeding, but not badly. Harry grimaced and bit his lip as Snape's ministrations only seemed to made things worse. But the rough, sandpaper like hands that had struck him so severely before was surprisingly gentle.

The Potions Master pinched the bridge of his nose and signed in relief. "It's fine," he said, "it's just a cut, not too deep." Harry felt woozy, his bruised cheek and still bleeding cut pulsed with sharp pain as the rest of his head ached dully.

He helped the boy to his feet and put him in the chair again. “Wait here, Potter." With that, Snape turned out of the room towards his potion stores.

But Harry did not wait. He just wanted to get out of there before Snape had a chance to tear him apart.

He left.

Harry sped down the corridor as fast as his two legs could carry him. He wanted desperately to get back to Gryffindor Tower where he could at least pretend that everything was all right. It was still early in the evening and numerous students loitering in the halls, all of them were Slytherin; it was the dungeons after all. They leered at him as he ran past, mocking his presence in Slytherin territory. It was not a good idea to linger in these parts of the castle for a long time, unless you were a Slytherin, a professor, or a ghost. Slytherins were rather territorial and did not welcome visitors from any other house, especially Gryffindor.

As tonight's unwelcome guest beelined for the seventh floor and home, he ran into a a world of trouble.

“Hey, look who it is,” came the mocking voice from an adjacent hall. There was no mistaking that pompous, high-and-mighty tone. That voice belonged to Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince and Harry greatest foe at Hogwarts school, Snape notwithstanding.

Harry did not linger, he push past the Slytherin and continued down the hall. But Draco Malfoy did not take to being pushed aside.

“Hey! I'm talking here, Scarhead!” The much taller Slytherin grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him back.

“I'm not in the mood, Malfoy, leave me alone,” Harry twisted his arm out of the blond's grip and turned down the hall once more.

“Don't you walk away when I am speaking, Potter.” Malfoy sneered superiorly. He motioned his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, who obeyed like the good sidekicks there were. The two moved surprisingly fast despite their large bulks and miniature brains.

Harry let out a grunt as he was pushed hard against the wall and kept there by the two larger boys. “Let me go, Malfoy!” He demanded.

“Manners, Potter, manners. We want to respect our superiors, don't we?” The Slytherin purred in that classic Malfoy accent.

“As if I could ever respect a ferret,” Harry gibed, his head still pounding from before. “Worshiping a ferret, that certainly says something about these two lovers of yours!”

Malfoy's face darkened with humiliation and anger. One year ago, the 'ferret incident' had spread like the bubonic plague across Hogwarts grounds. Within two days,. there was not a soul in Hogwarts, dead or alive, who have not heard of Malfoy's unfortunate encounter with Mad-Eye. These days, it was one of the best leverages anybody had against the blond. It was also the worst thing you could call him. The comment about 'love' did not help.

“Shut up!” The enraged Slytherin growled and landed a heavy blow to Harry's abdomen. “I dare you to say that again, Potter! I'll hex you so hard you're pathetic, dead parents will feel it!” He finished with malice.

Harry cringed and bent double as the blow fell. Hot tears jerked in his eyes, and not just from the physical blow.

Had he mentioned how he hated Mondays?

“Fuck off, Malfoy!” Harry choked.

“You are in my territory, Potty. Best do as I say. Lets begin with an apology, shall we?” It wasn't a question, Malfoys never ask; they were far too prestigious. Malfoys command, demand and expect to be obliged.

“In your dreams, Malfoy!” Harry retorted angrily.

The blond only laughed, “Yeah, there too, Potty.”

He then casually strolled forward and sneered down at the smaller boy pressed against the wall.

“Stay away from me!” Harry yelled as he struggled to get free. If only he could get to his wand, there'd be a chance. But the hold on his arms only tightened, making it impossible for him to move an inch. Harry winced; this was a very familiar position. Dudley and his gang also found it fun to harass him like this. Draco Malfoy, however, was far more dangerous than Harry's dimwitted cousin.

“What happened to your face, Golden Boy?” The Slytherin taunted, smiling. “Tsk, tsk. Can't have our hero going around looking like this! The press is going to have a field day!”

Harry seethed, could this night get any worse?

“What's wrong, Potter? Cat got your tongue?” Grabbe and Goyle laughed along with their leader until he shot them an annoyed glare. Harry doubted the two even knew what the phrase meant.

“None of your business, Malfoy.”

“Oh, come. I'm only trying to help. Here, why don't you let me fix it for you,” Draco drew his wand, and pointed it at Harry's face. Harry groaned, he fought gain but to no avail. He hated being so short or as Mrs. Weasley had once said, scrawny.

Where were the professors when you needed them. Anyone would do, Filch, a ghost, even Snape! Thought Harry, who was getting more agitated by the second.

“Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle and Mr. Potter. My, my, what a party,” Severus Snape purred sardonically as he appeared around the corner. He advanced towards the four in several quick strides, his dark cloak billowing ominously. “Do we have a problem here, gentlemen?”

Harry's head snapped around; speak of the devil! It was Snape! Why did Mondays have to be so unpredictable? Harry didn't know what he wanted, to be cursed in the face by Malfoy, or to be taken by Snape after the catastrophe down in the dungeons only minutes before.

In a flash, Draco had stowed his wand away. Grabbe and Goyle, however, froze like deer in headlights, – still holding Harry the wall. The blond Slytherin shot them another glare, one that said; don't say a word, let me handle it.

“No problem, sir.” Draco answered automatically, looking completely calm and stoic as if he was born to lie.

The Potions Master looked at his godson, then turned to the others and raised a skeptical eyebrow. Draco wanted to bang his head against the wall. Grabbe and Goyle were so slow, you'd think they were Muggles.

“Fighting in the halls, I see. I am very disappointed. Mr. Grabbe, Mr. Goyle, I suggest you release Mr. Potter immediately. I will take over from here.”

“Professor, as you can see we were just defending ourselves,” Draco explained, trying to come up with the words that would get Harry in the most trouble. “Out of the blue, just like that, he jumped me. He'd probably hexed me by now if Vince and Greg hadn't stopped him.”

“Indeed,” Snape said calmly as he assessed the situation.

Severus Snape knew he was biased, but he was not oblivious nor at all gullible unlike some professors of this school, whose names shall remain anonymous. He could tell that Draco was lying, though he had to admit the boy was quite proficient at the skill. Thanks or rather, no thanks to his father and the horrid upbringing. Anyway, Snape knew quite well it was his three Slytherins that initiated the whole fight, but why give up another chance to draw Gryffindor away from the House Cup.

“Thirty points from Gryffindor for starting a fight,” Severus declared with satisfaction. Then, the Head of House turned to his three smug pupils and ordered, “You three return to your dorms, I will see you in my office tomorrow. Seven o'clock, sharp.”

“What? But sir,” Draco began, apparently outraged by the 'unfairness' of it all.

Severus did not need to say a word, the look on his face spoke enough. It showed that he would not tolerate disobedience and that if Draco knew what was best for him, he'd better not say another word and do as he was told.

The Slytherin Head of House often looked the other way when his pupils started making trouble. If their behaviour was not serious, he'd often ignore it. Other times, it was simple enough to put the blame on the other House. When it came to Harry and Draco, there was no questions asked.

Outsiders often believed that there was no structure whatsoever within the Slytherin House. That was completely ridiculous. Severus Snape tolerated no nonsense. Within the Slytherin common areas, if you caused trouble and get caught, you'd find yourself in hot water faster than you could say 'sorry'. Professor Snape rarely disciplined his students in view of others, more often he'd speak to them in private.

Harry was confused, Snape had ordered Malfoy and the others to his office at 7 am? Did that mean they were in trouble? Why was that? Snape had always turned a blind eye to these things before. His uncertainty aside, Harry felt great satisfaction fill him. Finally, it was about time Malfoy got what was coming to him. As Harry grinned at the angry face of Malfoy junior, he could have sworn the blond had pouted, like a seven year old child.

“Yes, sir,” Malfoy grumbled. The Slytherin glared at Harry's smug face as if the whole situation was his fault. The fact that his Head of House just reprimanded him in public, and in front of Harry of all people, made him seethe. And that smug look on Harry's face made Malfoy want to hurt him so much more. The Slytherin worry about his 'detentions' with the Potions Master, he was well capable of worming his way out of trouble with Severus If his 'charming Draco godson' technique did not work, then Lucius would come and settle matters immediately.

“Very good,” Snape said, then tuned his attention to Harry and said in a low menacing voice. “Mr. Potter, follow me.”

Harry groaned and peeled himself off the wall. “Yes, sir,”

Draco and the others snickered as Harry followed Snape back down the deep, dark, candle lit corridor; back towards the office.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The walk back towards Snape's office could account as one of the most nerve-racking experience Harry's had all year. Harry dreaded to think what Snape would do with him now.

Calm down. Harry told himself. What's the worse he could do?

Harry ransacked his head for what to do as he was pushed down the hall, dragging his feet and causing Snape to snap at him. There was always the option of Dumbledore, but the headmaster had been ignoring him all year. He could always bolt for it, with his superior agility, he'd be sure to get away. But Snape had a hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly albeit not painfully. Then, there was the wand, but Harry doubt he'd win a duel a the former Death Eater and current Order spy.

Snape had been more than livid after the pensieve incident and had came dangerously close to tossing him bodily from the office. It was only too obvious the Potions professor did not want him to find out about the humiliating events in that took place in his Hogwarts years, especially that particular incident. If Snape had been furious with him for finding out and vengeful about the maltreatment he suffered at the hands of James Potter and the Marauders, then Harry did not want to think about how Snape felt now, after he had used the very name the man despised more than anything else.

Multiple scenarios ran through the Gryffindor's head, none of them had a pleasant ending.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus kept his emergency first-aid kit close at hand, you could never be too careful when dealing with inexperienced Potion students. Potter's injuries were not serious, a smudge of healing salve and a vial of potion would patch things up nicely.

But when he returned with the potion and salve at hand, the Gryffindor had somehow slipped off behind his back. Severus growled in frustration, this was not good. He had intended to heal the boy, settle things with a talk and sent him off to bed. Then he would go and confront the headmaster about the incident. But now that the boy's run off, it could complicate matters. Should anyone discover the boy in such a state there would be questions and next thing you know, there will be complaints filed against him and Howlers demanding his resignation.

Severus dropped the vials on a desk and hurried out the door. Several minutes later, he was guiding a very tense Harry Potter back down the dungeons. The scene he came upon was unnerving, Severus could not deny its similarity to his own days as a student in Hogwarts. Draco's behaviour reminded him of James Potter and the Marauders.

He had decided right then and there to have a serious talk with Draco and his friends, sometimes their bullying went too far to be ignored. There were things even he would not tolerate. Severus wished he could do more to guide his young godson in the right direction, but Lucius would have none of it.

As they traveled down the hall, Severus could sense the thick layer of apprehension flowing from his captive. Severus sighed, the boy looked like he was being guided to his execution. The bruise on his cheek had swollen to the size of a small mango, and although the cut had stopped bleeding, it was not a pretty sight.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

Harry looked up bewildered; had he heard right? Did Snape just ask if he was alright? Why would he care? “Huh?” Was all he could answer.

Severus rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Articulate to the tee, Potter. I said, are you alright?”

“Oh, um...yes, I'm...fine,” Harry gulped.

Neither talked for the rest of the way. The sound of silence echoed off the walls, making Harry even more uneasy. Finally, they arrived at the winding staircase that led to the Potion's office and Harry felt his heart sped up once more.

Severus nudged Harry into the threshold and led him to a chair.

“Sit,” he commanded, but Harry didn't move.

“I said, sit!” Severus said with a hint of iron behind his words.

Harry jumped at the harsh tone and sat. Severus rubbed his temple and let a tense breath escape.

“Did they do anything?” He asked, picking up the potion and salve.

“What?”

“Potter! I am getting tired of repeating myself! Did they do anything?”

“Oh, um, no. No, sir.” Harry stumbled, his heart racing. I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead. He's going to kill me, I am so dead.

Severus uncorked the both vials and handed one to Harry. “Drink.”

Harry stared at the blue-coloured potion warily, refusing to reach for the vial.

“A healing potion, Mr. Potter, not poison, I assure you.”

Harry still did not move. The last time Snape forced him to drink a potion, it was to test Dean's finished product, which worked...and had made him act out in the most retarded way until Snape gave him the antidote...at the end of the class. The Slytherins taunted him for weeks after, even his House mates occasionally teased him about it. He was rather touchy about the whole issue.

“Would you just drink the damned potion before I have to force it down your throat?” Severus snapped, he obviously haven't forgotten why he struck the boy in the first place.

Harry flinched and swallowed hard. He pressed back into the chair

Severus growled, this was not working. He wondered if it was more sensible to send the boy to Madame Pomprey and let her deal with it. Then again, he rather the school nurse did not see a student in such a state, she'd blow a gasket.

“Trust me, Mr. Potter. If I wished to harm you there'd be more efficient ways than forcing you to drink a potion,” Severus snorted. “Please tell me you are competent enough to recognize this potion, a seven year old would know what it is No doubt you have consumed it the countless times you were in the hospital wing?”

Harry did recognize the potion, and Snape was right, he drank it nearly every time he ended up in the hospital wing. It was a simple potion that sped up the healing process, as well as numb the pain, found not only in the health clinic, but in the average household.

But wasn't Snape the enemy? Why would he give Harry something that would make him feel better? Hermione had always been convinced that Snape was good despite his hateful exterior, and Dumbledore trusted the man. Harry was pretty sure he wasn't good, but he wasn't evil either.

Carefully, Harry took the potion from his professor and grimaced as the gooey substance oozed its down his throat. It was an unpleasant feeling, but the payoff was good. The pain disappeared instantaneously, leaving behind only a strange tingle.

Harry saw Snape take a deep breath and sigh. “I...apologize for striking you. It was inappropriate.”

Harry gaped at his professor in shock.

He apologized...to me. He can't have apologized to me! He's never said a decent word to me in five years, and now he's saying sorry? That can't be right.

The potions master looked irritated at Harry's lingering stare. Apologies did not come easily for him, he had not made many of those in his life time. He never felt the need or compulsion to do so, nobody had every warrant his apology. There were few people Severus respected enough to have wronged and said sorry to. The only apology Snape issued recently was to Albus Dumbledore and feigned ones to the Dark Lord. Never in his life had he imagined he would be asking to be pardoned by a Potter. As far as he was concerned, the entire Potter family should issue him a formal apology for the years of abuse he's suffered in James Potter's hands.

Severus Snape; nasty, sarcastic greasy git never apologized to anybody, and now he's just apologized to Harry Potter of all people. Hell must be in the midst of a ice storm right now.

“Yes, shocking, I know. Don't get use to it, you are only a handful of people I have apologized to,”

Severus growled. “And I will not do so again!”

Harry bit his lip, what should he say? Apology accepted? It's alright? You are forgiven...Merlin that sounds lame.

“It's okay,” he mumbled in a barely audible whisper.

“No, it is not.” Severus said shaking his head. “I need to clean that,” he commented as he summoned a wet cloth.

Harry pushed back into the chair nervously.

“For heaven's sake, I am not going to hurt you.” Severus said impatiently.

Harry dared to glare at his professor. Yeah right, the doubtful boy thought to himself.

“...again,” Severus added upon seeing the dubious look on Harry's face.

“I can do it myself,” Harry mumbled, unwilling to let Snape near him.

“No you can't. Now hold still,” said Severus. He knelt in front of Harry, grabbed his chin and pressed the cloth against the blood, wiping it away. Harry frowned and tried to pull back, but his professor held him still. “Do cease your confounded fidgeting, ” he barked, and Harry finally relented, letting Severus finish cleansing the cut, and putting on the salve.

“The bruises should fade by morning and there should be no trace of the cut by tomorrow afternoon. Come and see me if they are not gone by then.” Severus said, standing up and placing rest of the salve on his desk.

He turned back to Harry, “We need to talk,” he said grimly.

Harry's heart immediately sped up and he gulped visibly - talk. That did not sound good. What was Snape going to do? He wouldn't expel him, would he? Harry would do anything not to be expelled. To be expelled mean he would never see Hogwarts again; to be expelled meant he would have to go back to the Durlseys; to be expelled meant he would never finish his magical education, which meant a snapped wand, which meant he would never again be able to do magic! And if he could not do magic, what place would there be for him in the Wizarding world?

Harry watched as the Potions Master moved to the other side of the desk and sat down. He watched as the professor sighed deeply and pinched his nose while shaking his head. The tension in the air was so thick he could cut it with a cotton swab, Harry just couldn't take it. He would beg before he let Snape expel him.

“I'm sorry!” Harry cried frantic all of a sudden, “I'm sorry, I...I shouldn't have said that...those things. I shouldn't have yelled at you, disrespect you like that. I'm sorry...I'll do anything...really, please. OH, please, please don't expel me. I promise I'll be good from now on. I promise...respect. I will show you respect, really, I will. And I'll learn Occulmency, I'll try, I'll practice every night.”

Severus looked stunned as Harry apologized profusely, begging him not to resort to expulsion. The professor put a sneer on his face.

Potter seemed sorry enough. Ha, only because he is afraid I would expel him. The show of remorse and penitence is clearly an attempt to manipulate me into exploring other options. Potter cannot feel regret, nor guilt for his actions or words, he merely wanted to avoid punishment. Well, do I have something to say about that!

The truth was it would take much more to get yourself expelled than arguing with a professor, and the privilege of issuing an expulsion rested in the headmaster's hands alone.

Dumbledore would never expel his Golden Boy, just like he refused to expel Sirius Black or Remus Lupin, even when the dogs nearly killed him. Severus thought bitterly.

Young Harry, however, seemed convinced that his professor could and would drive him out of the school. Severus was not about to let an advantage like that slip.

“You can deduct every point from Gryffindor. I...I'll do anything!” Harry continued, barely pausing between his jumbled words. “I'll...I'll spend detention with you...everyday....till the day I graduate, please!”

“Mr. Potter,” Severus interrupted. “What makes you think I would want to spend detention with you till you graduate?”

“I...I'm sorry,” Harry said desperately. “I didn't mean it, really. I...I should not have said what I did.”

“Then why did you?” Severus commented in a chipped tone.

“I...” Harry hung his head. “Well...I.”

“Yes, Mr. Potter? I am waiting,” Severus said acidly. “Tell me why, give me one good reason why I should not send you packing your bags tonight.”

Harry swallowed. Well, it was all or nothing. What had he to lose anyway? His dignity?

Harry had no excuse to call Severus that horrid name, but he had a very good explanation. Under such provocation, who wouldn't snap? It was really the comment about his father that made Harry erupt. Most of the time Harry could handle Snape's fierce and bitting insults about his incompetence and as Snape had put it, “lack of a developed cerebral cortex.” But he could not stand it when Snape insulted his father. That last comment Snape made, however, reminded him of an incident nearly two years back, the incident that should have had severe ramifications, had he not been the Boy -Who-Lived and target of Azkaban escapee, Sirius Black.

Flashback

The Dursleys and Harry were sitting all around the dining table, the evening was turning out better than expected. The three adults chatted about work, Dudley, current events and left Harry alone all through dinner. But with Harry sitting right there in plain sight, something has ought to come up, and it did.

“This Potter, you never told me, what he did?” asked Aunt Marge.

“He – didn't work” said Uncle Vernon with clear disapproval,“couldn't hold a job...unemployed most of his life.”

”As I expected!” said Aunt Marge, stuffing a bite of lemon meringue pie into her mouth. “And a drunk, you say? Tsk tsk, nothing to be done about people like that except to lock them up somewhere secure, where they won't be able to taint the good in society. That one' s better dead, I'm telling you.”

Harry tried to ignore the cruel comments, he tried to focus on Quidditch instead, but there was no escaping Aunt Marge's vocal insults.

“So the boy goes to St. Brutus's?. Ah, not surprising, not surprising at all. There is nothing you can do, brother. If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it.” She said, shaking her head. “I don't know why you kept the boy, would have hauled him off to the orphanage if it were me. Surely, you knew how much trouble the boy would bring, with a father like Potter and all.”

“Yes, well” Aunt Petunia commented “The boy's just like his father; a no-account, good-for-nothing lazy scrounger...”

“He was not,” Harry said suddenly – his pent up anger nearly vibrating the table.

“Be quiet, boy! The adults are talking,” Aunt Marge yelled, and turned back to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. “Now, you're right of course, Petunia. You mustn't blame yourselves for they way the boy's turned out. It has all to do with blood, bad blood. Actually, it has nothing to do with the father, it's more to do with the mother.” She took a mouthful of brandy to go with the meat and continued, “They say it all the time with dogs, if there is something wrong with the bitch, then there's something wrong with the pup.”

Harry's anger exploded, the entire kitchen shook and trembled like an earthquake that would have registered a 5 on the Richter Scale. Aunt Marge had started to swell like an inflated balloon. She swelled, and swelled, and swelled until she became so round and buoyant her body started to float.

As if she was filled with helium, Aunt Marge drifted upwards towards the ceiling, then out the window towards the moonlit sky.

The sounds of her terrified scream, Petunia's frantic screech and Vernon's low bellows faded into the night.

End Flashback.

All Harry could think of was what horrid names the Dursleys called his parents, and how Snape was doing the same thing, and that was what made him blow.

“I was angry, okay!” Harry yelled, mad all over again, and it all went downhill from there.

To be continued...

** Flashback scene is a combination of quotes and paraphrasing from Prisoner of Azkaban book (p. 26-27 British) and movie. No copyright infringement or plagiarizing intended. **

“I was angry, okay!” Harry yelled, mad all over again.

“Tone, Potter,” Severus warned. But Harry did not hear or did not care.

“I don't understand. For the moment I stepped into the Potions lab four years ago you have targeted me. From that very first day you singled me out as your outlet, using every single opportunity to taunt, bully and humiliate me. What have I ever done to you? I didn't even know you! I couldn't understand why you hated me so much, or what I ever did to make you to make you treat me like that...like this!”

Severus scoffed at Harry's rapid accusations. “It always has to be about you, isn't that right, Mr. Potter?”

“No, you're wrong. This has nothing to do with me,” Harry replied. “This has everything to do with my father and your unending grudge against him. You do this because you want to get back at my father for whatever he did to you in school. You want revenge and it feels great to finally be able to get back at him for all the misery he's put you through. That's why you keep doing it, because it feels good. It feels good to see me hurt, see me on the edge of snapping. Knowing there is nothing I can do about it, because you are the one in authority, you have the power. And one wrong move and you could just deduct points or give me months worth of detentions?”

The Potions Master glared at Harry. In all his years as Professor in this school, nobody had every dared speak to him in such a manner, not since his first day when a few fifth years decided to take test his limit.

Hmmm....I wondered what ever happened to them. Severus thought before shaking his head and returning to the situation at hand.

“You will show me respect,” he growled, leaning down at Harry menacingly. “Do not presume you know anything about me. You are exactly like your father was; disrespectful, irresponsible, and showed no regard for anyone but himself.”

“You are always accusing my father of being a irresponsible, bigoted bully. Well aren't you the hypocrite? You are doing to me exactly what my father did to you all those years ago.” Harry retorted. “You do it because you can, and because it nice to have the final say and give the Potters what was coming to them. I suppose I should congratulate you, Professor. You've managed to get your revenge on my father, by hurting his son. I would say that vengeance was served long ago, but you keep at it.”

“I have done nothing to you which you do not deserve! Now get out of my sight!” He hollered.

“I am not my father. I don't care how much you think we resemble each other! I am not James Potter, never have been, and never will be! It was he who bullied you, not me. I have done you no wrong. If you want a James Potter, why don't you look at Malfoy, better yet, get yourself a mirror!” Harry finished as suddenly as he began, panting angrily.

“SILENCE!” Severus bellowed at Harry in a great explosion of rage. He lifted Harry to his feet and pointed to the door. “Enough! Who do you think you are? I have warned you not to disrespect me, Potter. Get out! Get out of my sight! I have had enough of you tonight! Do not bother showing your face in my presence ever again, do I make myself clear? Now, out!”

Harry cringed at the frightening tone; Snape looked ready to wring his neck. If Snape was only considering expelling him before, he certainly wasn't considering any longer. Harry thought, fearing that he'd just made things worse. But he believe every word he said, because they were true. Nevertheless, Harry swallowed his pride and backed off, this was a battle he could not win.

“I'm sorry. I...” Harry broke off, looking down at his feet. “Don't expel me, please,” he muttered quietly.

Severus's venom towards his young student was rarely justified, now seems one of those rare times. “SCRAM, POTTER! Do not make me ask again!” Severus thundered, flailing his arm upwards and pointing towards the door. Harry gasped and jumped back instinctively. His arms moved upwards to protect his head, though it was more of a reflex than conscious fear.

Harry frowned, unsure of what to do. Everything was telling him to leave, to run and escape the man's building anger. But he did not run. In hindsight, Harry would wonder what made him freeze in place like that. It had always been fight or flight for him, he wasn't running but he wasn't exactly fighting either.

Severus was barely holding on to his composure. He always had composure, unless you introduce something as impossible as a Potter, or all Gryffindors for that matter.

Harry on the other hand, had no composure, never did. The tears that he had held back for the longest time now refused to be contained. It was over. Snape did not believe him to be truly remorseful and was going to kick him out of school He was going to be expelled, the Ministry was going to jump at the chance to snap his wand and he would be exiled to the Muggle world forever.

“I didn't mean it, really...calling you that name,” Harry muttered desperately. “I guess you were right all along, I am just like my father,” Harry said dejectedly with his head down and shoulders slouched.

It all came crashing down on Harry; the year had been one catastrophe after anther, from loneliness at Private Drive to being kept in the cold by everyone; from the Dementors attack to the Ministry trial; and from Dumbledore's icy front to Umbridge's painful detentions. He had to deal with the harsh accusations of his peers regarding Voldemort's return and the Daily Prophet's ruthless slander. He had to overcome the strange visions haunting his sleep and all the events surrounding Mr. Weasley's attack. That's not to mention the Occulmency lessons and Snape and Malfoy and Rita Skeeter and DA and Cho and Quidditch, and OWLs, and everything else going on in his perfect, spoon-fed life.

Why do people assume life was so grand? Harry wondered bitterly. And why can't I ever catch a break?

He'd held it all up inside until now. His outburst upon arriving at Grimmauld Place had been out of pure anger and resentment. His explosion of rage earlier in the evening had gotten rid of some of his pent up emotions. Now, all he felt was exhaustion.

He was so tired of being Harry Potter, bloody saint of the Wizarding world.

He was so much at once he did not know which way to turn. Harry's life is frought with difficulties and complications and when there was no one else around to talk to, Harry would ask Hegwig, why everything seemed to happen to him.

Harry's dam had found the most unfortunate time and place to burst. He started to cry and sob without a care in the world for the bewildered professor sitting next to him. It has been a long time since Hary had had a good cry. Harry recalled crying to sleep as a child, alone in his cupboard, hungry and hurt. But beyond that, he'd took life's misfortunes all in stride. He hadn't cried when he faced Voldemort in the back of Quirrel's head; hadn't cried when he broke his arm; hadn't cried when he was dying from Basilisk poison; and hadn't cried when his hopes of a family with Sirius flew away with Buckbeak. Harry hadn't cried from the stress of fourth year, and the intense events at the graveyard and he did not shed a tear for everything that has happened in the last eight months. The only times he came close in recent years was during the Dementors' attack on Sirius and at Cedric's tragic death. Yet, Harry had so much to cry for, such having abusive relatives rather than loving parents, several murderous dark wizards out to get him, and life in general.

And so he cried.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus looked on, confused at both Harry's sudden change in attitude, as well as his own vanishing rage. Harry was no longer the arrogant, reckless, disrespectful miscreant Severus always had seen. Right now, Harry could only be one thing and that was a very upset teenager. The boy looked defeated and resigned, as if he could not stand to care any longer. Severus Snape was no stranger to feelings of helplessness and depression. His entire life had been filled with wretched misfortunes. Be as it may, he knew how to deal with his own problems, not that of others. Severus was not used to dealing with sobbing teenagers. Even though he was the Head of House, Slytherins rarely let their emotions show, let alone let them take over. The most he's ever dealt with were homesick first years. But eleven-year-olds were fairly easy to satisfy for the most part. Just have their parents send them an owl or two and everything would settle down. Besides, a month into the school year and most students would be too absorbed in their friends and Quidditch to be upset over their parents. The majority of Hogwart's pupils were quite glad that there were no parents here to order them around day in and day out.

Harry did not bother to wipe the tears away, it felt good to let lose at last. He'd just have to deal with what's left of his tattered dignity later.

Meanwhile, Snape was still meandering his way through his thoughts, trying to decide what to do.

“Get a hold of yourself, Potter,” he urged, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. When Harry kept bawling, he scowled.

“Potter, stop this nonsense!” He yelled in frustration. But Harry was too far gone to care.

Severus coughed, he wondered if it would be best to send Harry back to Gryffindor Tower to calm down. Then again, he would hate to have McGonagall on his back for being too harsh with the brat.

“Damn it, boy. Stop making a fool out of yourself. What have you to cry for? Your privileged life? Your hundreds of fans? Your status as Dumbledore's precious Golden Boy?” Severus snapped. “Well?”

Harry shook his head and turned to leave. But Severus stopped him.

“Oh don't you dare. I won't have Minerva on my back again.”

Unbeknown to anyone, Harry's Head of House has been constantly on Severus' back for his prejudice towards her young pupil. After the pensieve incident, she had threatened to set him, along with his entire potion stores, on fire if he ever manhandled her student again. And, by Merlin, he believed her.

Just let him let lose, he'll stop soon enough. Severus thought to himself.

“Crying, Potter? I'd never thought I'd live to see the day.” Severus sneered, thinking that maybe humiliation would snap the boy out of his...whatever it was. “Just wait till all your worshipers see this. Their great saviour, defeater of the Dark Lord, the brave, self-sacrificing little Gryffindor crying his eyes out in front his professor. Pathetic.”

Harry did not respond.

“Damn, boy! Stop your sniveling or by Merlin I will make you regret it!”

“J...just...go,” Harry managed out. “Won't tell...anyone.”

“I am not letting you go in this state. Now calm down.” Severus demanded.

“Let...go.” Harry cried. “Leave...me alone”

“Oh, for the love of Merlin!” Severus drew his arms around the small frame and patted Harry's back clumsily. This was an awkwardness unparalleled to every previous experience in Severus Snape's nearly 40 years of life. He was hugging Harry Potter, who would have thought. Anyone who came upon this scene would think the Potion Master had finally lost it and gone completely cuckoo.

“Potter, stop acting like a child!” Severus said sternly. He groaned deep in the throat when that only seemed to make things worse.

Of course, Harry was still a child at fifteen. At this young age he's had to deal with tragedies and adversaries an adult would find difficult to handle. Severus recalled himself at fifteen years and no amount of denial could disprove the fact that he and Potter had much in common. For one thing, they both suffered abuse from their flesh in blood families. For another, both had to deal with bullies.

But Severus had to admit that his childhood, even without friends, had been much more carefree than Harry's. Though his later years were fraught with difficulties that drove him towards the Dark Side, his earlier years were not nearly as troubled as Harry Potter's. He did not have a Dark Wizard out for his blood (and managed to get it, too). Nor did he battle the soul of the darkest wizard of the century at age eleven, kill a sixty foot Basilisk at age twelve, fight off attacking Dementors numerous times at thirteen and again this year. Moreover, Severus Snape certainly did not get thrashed around by the Triwizard Tournament, witness the death of a fellow student, suffer the Cruciatus curse and duel with the Dark Lord himself at age fourteen, and all in one night.

He had always protected Harry from danger, for Lily. At times it seemed a civil war was raging within him; was Harry Lily's son or Potter's? It was way too easy to see Potter in the boy; arrogant, foolish and bigoted. There was no Lily in the boy; then again, it was what Dumbledore said all those years ago “You see what you expect to see, Severus”(1)

Severus had always protect Harry for Lily. For years he had resented Lily for choosing James Potter over him; he did not deserve her. If someone was to ask him if he'd forgiven Lily, he'd say no. But that did not meant he lost his love for her. He made a commitment ten years ago, a commitment to Dumbledore and Lily to assure Harry's physical well being.

“Quit your sniveling! What do you suppose my Slytherins will do with this information? They will never let you live it down.” Severus threatened. Then he started to think to himself. Lily; what would Lily say to him for the way he's been treating her son? Then again, this was also Potter's son, and he did not care for Potter's son. Lily had never quiet forgiven him for his consequential slip of the tongue. Mudblood. He did not mean it, never could he mean to hurt her so.

Severus rubbed his temple, he did not have time for this.

Perhaps I should be doing more than just saving his sorry arse from fatal injuries causing death.

Harry suddenly turned and buried himself in the large frame of his professor. He pressed his head into the wide chest and grabbed a handful of robes. Harry knew he would regret this later, Snape would take advantage of this humiliating event to hurt him some more. All the same though, if it wasn't this, it would have been something else. Right now, it felt too good to be held, even if it is the 'king of the dungeon dwellers'.

Severus Snape huffed with annoyance and distaste. He fixed his eyes on the wall directly ahead of him and he sighed with resignation. Severus could tell that this was about much more than the Occulmency lessons, or his unfair treatment towards him for the past 5 years, much more.

Neither had a clue to as how long they stayed like that, just standing there with Harry locked in his professors hold. Eventually, the tears had ran dry, but Harry did not want to let go, and for the moment, he had completely forgotten whom he was with. The deprived young wizard was content, quite content. No one had ever held him like this before. Aunt Petunia never held him, even as a toddler. When he cried, she just yell and smack him upside the head to get him to stop. Uncle Vernon would sooner quit his job than shake his hand, let along hug him. The whole concept of hugging their nephew was repulsive. After he started Hogwarts, they seemed even more reluctant to touch him, as if he carried some horribly contractive disease.

His best friends, Ron and Hermione, were good for comfort, but they were his age, it was not the same.

Mrs. Weasley gave the best hugs ever and he knew she cared about him. Sirius was the closest thing he had to a father, and they would embrace in greetings and farewells. But nobody had ever held him when he was upset like this. It was comforting.

After an undetermined amount of time, Harry started to realized where he was and ultimately whom he was with. He bit his lip and gulped as the reality of the situation dumped a ton of bricks on him. He unlatched his arms and backed away as fast as he could. There were no words the describe what Harry felt at the moment.

Harry knew, Snape was sure to laugh at him now. Monday just got better! He just had to go and make a complete fool of himself in front of his Potions professor and tormentor. It was so embarrassing, he hadn't been crying, he was literally sobbing, like a toddler. And what was he thinking clinging onto Snape like that? Harry didn't think he could ever look the Potions Master in the eyes again, he would just die of humiliation.

“I...sorry about that,” Harry whispered quietly, taking off his glasses and wiping away his tears. “I don't know what came over me.”

“No matter, Mr. Potter,” Severus returned, aware of the boy's flustered state; Harry's blush ignited his entire face, right back to his ears. Severus made no comment, telling Potter he needn't be embarrassed would no doubt make worse an already bad situation. It was clear the Gryffindor did not wish him to acknowledge his embarrassment, let alone comment on it.

“I am sorry. Please believe me,” Harry said, yearning for forgiveness.

“Apology accepted, Mr. Potter,”said Severus as he pushed a box of tissue towards the boy.

“No, I...” Harry begun before his brain processed the professor's words. “Wait...did you? I mean, really? You...you forgive me?” Harry questioned with skepticism, blowing his nose afterwards. Making Severus sneer distastefully.

“I do not say things I do not mean.”

“Oh.”

“Your glasses, Mr. Potter,” Severus offered.

He fixed them, he fixed my glasses. Harry mused. Well at least Hermione won't be on my case about how I broke them again.

“Thanks,” said Harry as he put the spectacles back where they belonged.

“You will return to your dormitory. Do not speak of this to anyone, I will speak to the headmaster about the incident,” said Severus.

“No!” Harry blurted out. The whole thing was humiliating enough without Dumbledore finding out too.

“Excuse me?” Severus looked at Harry, he could tell the boy was aching to say something, but was clearly nervous. “Spill it, Potter.”

“Don't,” Harry began hesitantly, “Don't tell Dumbledore.”

Severus narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Harry's face. He was certain Harry would not hesitate to run to Dumbledore to try and get him sacked.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Severus corrected, “and why not? I imagine you would want revenge after what happened tonight. This is the perfect opportunity to get me sacked. You'll never have to worry about the greasy Potions Master again.,” he finished bitterly.

Harry winced and bit his lip in guilt, it was weird to hear his professor address himself like that.. “I don't want him to know, he doesn't have to know,” Harry replied.

“Why not? I'm sure all you little friends would worship you even more if you manage to sack the evil Potions professor,” Severs sneered.

Harry felt indignation flare and his anger rose to match Severus's. One minute Snape was fine, even comforting him and the next he was back to his stupid, sneering self. Harry wondered if it was something he said, but all he did was ask Snape not to tell Dumledore.

“What's your problem!” Harry snapped. However, as soon as those words left his mouth he regretted them, as if he wasn't in enough trouble already. If Snape was in a bad mood, if was better not to provoke the man. “Sorry, I'm sorry.”

Severus sighed shaking his head, it was too easy to lose his temper around Potter. Severus then guided Harry to a couch at a far corner of the room. Harry blinked at the furniture, had that been there all this time? He'd been in Snape's office hundreds of times, how come he'd never noticed it before? “Sit down.” Severus commanded. Harry obeyed without a word, confused didn't seem like the right word, he was utterly bewildered by Snape's actions.

“You do not wish to inform the headmaster? Talk.” Severus commanded as he sat down parallel to Harry.

“Well...I don't want him to be disappointed in me,” Harry mumbled, looking down at his hands.

“Why would he be disappointed in you? You did nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong? Of course I did something wrong. I did everything wrong. I yelled at a teacher, and swore at him; at you. And I had to call you...that horrible name. Not to mention I have learned nothing in he past 4 months. He would be so disappointed.” Harry said glumly, going red again.

“I am sure he will understand.”

“No...he won't. I've been so useless.”

Well, Severus was not about to argue with that. It was a matter of fact that the Occulmency lessons went zero miles since the first day. He readily agreed that Harry had not learn a thing. And yet, if he had to be truthful with himself, his teaching methods were a tad...unconventional.

“ I must admit that there is more than one way to learn Occulmency. Perhaps the method I employed is not the best one for you.”

Harry blushed even more; this was all wrong; Snape was suppose to agree with him, not lay part of the blame on himself. Whoever heard of Severus Snape blaming himself for his student's lack competence? The thought was ridiculous. Snape had shown him nothing but spite for a long time, and to see him being even remotely civil was discomforting somehow.

“Maybe, but I can't blame you for my incompetence and failures,” Harry said dejectedly.

Severus looked at the young man before him. This was all wrong, Potter wasn't suppose to be admitting his incompetent and successes in failure! This wasn't the Potter he knew. Where had the egotistic, self-righteous and arrogant Gryffindor gone?

“I must tell him. This is not about you or me. This is about a professor, who had inappropriately struck his student. It is my duty to tell him. Should he find out later on, there would be questions as to why either of us had told him. That would lead to complications I'd rather not deal with.”

“I won't tell if you won't.”

Severus scoffed half-heartedly.

“Don't be naïve, Potter. Albus Dumbledore always knows, he will find out eventually. He will be displeased to discover that such an incident was not reported immediately.”

“But...” Harry began, “but, you'll get in trouble. And I'll get in trouble. So...there's no point really.”

The experienced spy sensed there was something missing in this story. He knew for a fact that 'getting into trouble' never stopped Potter from doing off to one of his reckless and stupid adventures. There had to be more than Dumbledore's disappointment as well.

“There is something else, isn't there. This isn't just about me getting sacked, or you getting into trouble. Neither is it about the headmaster's disappointment.” Severus waited for an answer, and watched Harry shifted uncomfortably on the seat. “You are ashamed and embarrassed about what occurred tonight.”

Harry's silence and tense body language told Severus all that he needed to know.

“There is nothing to be ashamed about. The headmaster would never laugh at your expense.”

“I know...but he has been ignoring me all year. He won't look me in the eye, he won't even answer when I call him.”

“The headmaster has his reasons. But he must know about this incident.”

“But...”

“There is not point in arguing, Mr. Potter. I will tell Professor Dumbledore.”

Harry slumped in his chair and looked absolutely lost.

“Have you considered what the Ministry gets hold of this piece of information, they would demand my resignation. If I am lucky, the court will not press charges of assault against the Boy-Who-Lived and lock me away in Azkaban. Professor Dumbledore can ensure what happened tonight never reaches ears of the Ministry, or the media for that matter.”

“I would defend you, you won't get sacked or jailed,” Harry offered.

“What makes you think you can persuade the Ministry to change their mind? Have you already forgotten how your own trial went? I believe, if it not for Dumbledore, you would have been expelled and your wand snapped. If that is the way they treat their Boy Saviour, how do you think they will treat a former Death Eater such as myself?” Snape reasoned.

“The Ministry has been on my back ever since my Death Eater trial. If it wasn't for Dumbledore, I would been in the dungeons of Azkaban right now. Therefore, should the Ministry find out what transpired tonight; that I lashed out and assaulted the saviour of the Wizarding world, even Dumbledore would have a hard time defending me. The public would be out for my blood.”

Harry thought fast.

“But, they have no way of finding out in the first place.”

“I imagine you would want to tell your friends what the git did to you.”

Harry shook his head. “I don't,” he said, but Severus continued.

“If not your entire house, then at least Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley. Rumours would spread, and rumours are too often considered facts. You ought to be familiar with this.”

“I won't tell anyone. I promise.”

“Whether you do or do not matters little by any chance. Both the Ministry and the media have their ways. You are familiar with Rita Skeeter?” asked Snape.

Oh, Harry was more than familiar with Rita Skeeter, the reported has been printing pages and pages of lies about him for years. If he could, he would discredit her so much, no respectable newsprint or magazine would hire her, not even a tabloid.

Harry nodded, but that did not mean he had to like any of this. “Okay, fine,” he said reluctantly

“Trust me, Mr. Potter. The only one Professor Dumbledore will be disappointed in tonight is me.”

“You didn't mean it.”

“No, I did not. But that does not excuse my actions.”

“What will he do?” Harry asked, “He won't sack you, would he?”

“No, never fear. You will still have the ugly, greasy git for your Potion classes for years to come.”

Severus quoted sardonically, and Harry blushed.

“Sorry,” he said feebly.

“You have already apologized...many times.”

“Oh,” Harry blushed some more, he did not know what to say and so settled for the only thing

that came to his mind. “Sorry.”

Severus grunted. “Yes, apology accepted once again.”

Harry looked at the stone floor sheepishly.

“So...if he won't sack you, then what will he do?”

Severus grimaced. “No doubt warn me if something like this ever happen again, he would let Minerva and Poppy have their way.”

Harry blinked with confusion and curiosity.

Suddenly, Severus was on his feet and made his way to an old book shelf. Harry watched him go with agitation and curiosity. After glancing at a few rows, Severus picked out a large, red, hardcover book.

“Here, Mr. Potter,” Lazily, he handed Harry what looked to be an encyclopedia. “Be sure you finish the first three chapters by next week, or do not bother coming at all.”

Harry took the book in his hands and the heavy weight flopped onto his lap. Did Snape really expect him to read the whole book? Harry wondered to himself. This was Hermione's area; she'd finished it in a week while it'd probably take him the whole year.

The title read, Occulmency for the Feeble-Minded by Jrowk Ling.

Wow, thought Harry, what a way to damper one's self-confidence. Jrowk Ling, what a strange name.

He looked up at Snape to see the professor looking at him with that same old expression , a strong look of disapproval, waiting for him to do or say something stupid so he could deduct points from Gryffindor.

Any other time, Harry would have been angry. But for the first time, Harry knew the potions master meant well; he really did. Somehow, there was no more venom in Snape's voice, Harry could get use to that.

“Yes, sir,” said Harry, “Thank you.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at the sincereness in Harry's voice, but ignored it.

“I expect an improvement next week, Mr. Potter, how ever little you may be able to achieve.”

“Yes, sir.” Harry muttered, flipping through the book.

“If you do well, I may consider restoring the points I took away for fighting in the halls.”

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. Was that Snape's way of saying that the point deductions were undeserved?

“Yes, sir.”

“It is past curfew,” Snape commented. “You should get back to the tower before I catch you in the halls and give you detention.”

Harry blinked, then smiled faintly, “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

Severus shook his head as Harry stood up.

“Double Potions in the morning. Do not be late. I don't think Gryffindor can afford any more point loss.”

“Yes sir,” Harry said. So the man was back to normal. Well, he woudn't be Severus Snape if he didn't insult Harry at least once in three sentences, “I mean, no sir. Um, yes, sir.”

Severus raised an eyebrow and resisted the urge to pinch his nose.

“Do not even think about revealing tonight's events to our little friends,” Severus jabbed a finger at Harry. “I have a reputation to keep.”

“Of course, Professor.” said Harry. The two wizards stared at each other.

“Well? Get going!” Severus said loudly, making Harry jump.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Potter, do stop apologizing some time soon.” Severus said irritably.

“Sorry,” Harry looked up at the man and bit his lip.

This time Severus did pinch his nose. Impossible,stupid Gryffindors and their damned.....damn!

“Good night, Mr. Potter.”

“Good night, Professor Snape.”

Harry could feel the potion masters eyes scorching a hole in his back all the way to the door. He put his hand on the knob and twisted, the door opened with a creek. Half way across the barrier Harry turned around.

“Professor?”

“What now, Potter?”

“Thank you,” Harry grinned as he tucked the book under his arm, then turned and closed the door gently behind him. Snape wasn't all bad. The Gryffindor had finally found something to smile about, and he did all the way back to his tower, where his friends could not have been more bewildered, both at his lateness and at his lopsided grin.

Back in the dungeons, Snape had his face in his hands.

I hate Mondays.

Interlude

A profession in teaching was not at all what Severus Snape imagine himself doing. But given the circumstances of his life, he had little choice. Severus did not think he would enjoy teaching the bunch of brainless misfits that Hogwarts continued to produce year after year. He did not like Hogwarts in general. As a student, his time at the school were spent in isolation, in his room, the potions lab or the library. He was constantly tormented, bullied and pushed around. He had few friends, like Lucius and Bellatrix, but both graduated when he was in second year.

Severus had no wish to return to Hogwarts after graduation.

But life had plans for him yet.

His first year on the Hogwarts staff turned out not to be wholly unpleasant. In fact, Severus found that teaching could be rewarding, albeit frustrating. It had its setbacks, but it had its moments as well. To see his pupils excel was satisfying, and to watch the next potions prodigy grow under his wing was more rewarding than he could have imagined.

He grew attached to his Slytherins to a level, and favoured them to the extreme. But not without reason. Slytherin was the least popular house amongst the students, even the staff though they would never admit it. The Slytherins needed all the help they could get.

Severus clung to the hope that at least one or two of the graduates each year from amongst the hundreds of dunderheads would go on to do something worthy of themselves. Just so that he could take comfort in the fact that all his work would have been a total waste. One of the most frustrating elements of his job was watching his students dismiss potions like it was no more important than last week's news clippings. Potions was his life, and was too under appreciated amongst the student and general Wizarding population. But as a professor, what was even more infuriating was to see some students fail again and again, day after day with no signs of any improvement. This year, Fumbles McStupid or more formally, Neville Longbottom, had gone and done he hadn't thought possible; he had gotten ten times worse, and this vexed Snape to no end. It's a wonder how two of the most brilliant and courageous people in the first Order could have fostered such a dimwitted son, it was a bloody shame and as waste.

Similarly, Harry's failure in Occlumency was getting increasingly tiresome, if that boy did not 'get it' soon, Severus was going to lose his head.

The weary wizard took a small sip from his herbal tea. Tea had amazing calming effects, more so than many medicinal potions. It has been some night, he thought to himself, rubbing his brow, Potter had called him Sni...that nickname, wrenching back painful memories which resulted in him assaulting the boy with the back of his hand, which led to Potter having a complete meltdown against Severus' nice, clean robes and the most distasteful experience Severus has had in a while.

The nerve of that boy! That obnoxious, irksome, disrespectful little monster! What did I look like? Clinging onto me like that like some sort of symbiotic! What was he thinking? What was I thinking? Should have send him straight back to the tower and let him deal with it himself. It's not as if the Golden Boy can't handle a few tears.

Severus slammed his cup down onto the table, sloshing tea over his hands. He was in denial. Of course he did not care about the Potter boy, the wretched, spoiled rotten brat. He needn't feel guilty about his treatment of Harry. The brood of James Potter did not deserve his sympathy nor kindness from Severus Snape.

Shouldn't have wasted my time explaining myself to him! Severus brooded, thinking about how Harry had disagreed about telling Dumbledore. My word is law. How dare he argue with me, contradict me! And I let him get away with it too! Damn brat!

True, he should not have hit the boy no matter what was said, and he felt dutifully regretful. But what was that other 'thing' that was nagging at him when he was coerced into the unwilling embrace? The feeling that was still nagging at him now? A strange kind of...what might you call it? Humanity? Goodness? Nice?

Certainly not! Severus Snape, nice! Perish the thought!

How dare he do this to me! I am not nice! I do not 'hug' and definitely not any Gryffindors! I do not offer comfort to students on my couch!

Harry's behaviour this night had startled Severus, confused him. This night, he had witnessed a side of Harry he had never seen before. Was it vulnerability? Or innocence? Or perhaps it was just the fact that Harry seemed so sincere in his apology, or that he had broken down so pitifully?

Severus rubbed his temple then ran his hand through his hair, after he dried them of course.

Harry had always been easily provoked by words, and Severus knew exactly where those sensitive buttons lie. But the boy's reactions to his jaunts had always been either fierce blushes and clenching teeth or angry words. Harry's retaliations did nothing more than land him in more trouble than he was already in.

Severus never thought he'd see the day Harry Potter cried. The spiteful man might have tried purposefully in the past to crush Harry's ego. And if tears were what would bring the Golden Boy down a few grand notches, then so be it. In the past, Severus would not have hesitated to humiliate the boy to the point of tears. He would not have felt regret for being brutally harsh. After all, this was not the first time his stringent, somewhat draconian methods had driven a student to tears. So why, all of a sudden, did he feel responsible and at fault? Why did he regret at brining Harry to tears?

The Potions Master shook his head and poured himself a new cup of tea. It was late and he needed to do his rounds. He was in a foul mood tonight, not consisting anger but rather of confusion and an odd sort of remorse.

Could it be that he actually cared? Severus growled as his hands tightened around his tiny cup of tea. It was far too easy to see James in Harry Potter, the boy was the mirror image of his father. Everything from his hair to his ears to his nose. Severus forgot sometimes that Harry was Lily's son as well. But in Seversu' opinion, Harry was not like Lily at all. Lily kind, intelligent and down-to-earth. Harry was another matter all together.

Nonetheless, Harry was Lily's child. And though he did not care for James Potter's damed offspring, Lily's son, he would die for.

Severus got up, shook out the wrinkles and straightened his robes, making his way out of the office and into the quiet halls to begin his routine patrol of the grounds. It would be a long walk.

Tomorrow; he thought, he would speak with Dumbledore tomorrow.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Severus, my boy,” Dumbledore said in a cheerful tone, his voiced low and aged. “To what do I owe this late night visit?”

“Headmaster, we must talk,” Severus answered seriously. He had been wandering the halls in search of wayward students who dared venture out after curfew. His mind stuck on other matters, he had failed to notice a couple of Ravenclaws second years in the east wing, a mile away from their common room.

“Oh dear, this sounds rather serious. I do hope everything is alright,” said the old headmaster, peering at Severus innocently over his half-moon glasses.

Severus looked at his mentor. Dumbledore always seemed to know when something was not right. “Certainly, headmaster, everything is fine.”

“Sit down, then,” Dumbledore offered. “Some tea, Severus?”

“No, thank you, sir,” the Potions professor declined the offer, instead choosing to dive right into the matter at hand. “It concerns Potter,” he confessed with cold sobriety.

Dumbledore smiled with resignation. “Again, Severus? Surely you have done complaining about the boy. He is not so bad.”

Severus shook his head. “Potter and I had an...argument.”

“Oh, I see,” Dumbledore nodded. “And you wish to have the boy punished for speaking out of turn? Preferably expelled?”

“No, no, not this time. This time...the fault,” Severus forced, “The fault was mine.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“I see,” Dumbledore said with gravity.

“That boy is impossible, headmaster!” Severus jumped in. “He dared call me that name! That impertinent little bas...”

“Severus!” Dumbledore admonished.

“I'm sorry, Albus. But the nerve of that boy! First he waltes into my pensieve like he owns the thing, steals a peek at my most private memories and now this! He takes advantage of that transgression and spits mockery at me!” Severus was steaming. All guilt forgotten for the time being, his mind was dead set on spilling blasphemy about Harry Potter. The name Snivillus, bestowed on him by James Potter himself was a stark reminder of humiliation he had to put up with as a student.

“I'll have him expelled for this! This is the last straw! Make a fool of me, will he? I ought to...”

“Strike him?” Dumbledore's tone was stern, but there was no accusation in his voice.

Severus stopped suddenly in his rant. “No, of course not.”

The older Wizard gave him a searching look. Severus looked away, wavering and feeling very uncomfortable under his mentor's calculating gaze. He always felt exposed around the powerful Wizard. Nobody read him better than Dumbledore. As a spy he had learned discreetness the hard way. He kept his real feelings and intentions deep inside, hidden within a dark crevasse where few could get to them. But Albus Dumbledore read him like an open book, without even resorting to Legilimency or any type of mind-magic.

“I assume that it was an lapse in judgment?” Dumbledore inquired severely, looking pointedly at the potions professor.

“There was no judgment,” Severus confirmed, inclining his head. “I lost my temper and acted rashly.” He could not bring himself to meet Dumbledore's eyes, and focused his gaze anywhere but. His line of vision failed to take in the old man's face, but he could tell that Dumbledore's features were lined with disappointment. Those few words, spoken with such passive reprimand, brought the guilt speeding back and made it one hundred times worse.

“You have made amends.” It wasn't a question.

Dumbledore's gaze upon Severus had not left, and the Potions Master forced himself to look up and answer the question to the old man's face, with respect. “Yes, sir. I have apologized to Potter.”

Dumbledore nodded solemnly with small approval.

From Severus' perspective, Dumbledore was showing tremendous patience and leniency. The Potions professor thought he'd have to endure great amount ancient Wizard's wrath by now. Severus had, just hours ago, hit the precious Golden Boy in a rather brutal manner. And although the injuries were considerably minor, they were nonetheless quite unacceptable. Surely it was a dangerous infraction.

With Dumbledore looking at him like that, Severus felt regret build once more. Harry Potter irked him so much that he just could not keep his temper around the boy. Harry was the only person student in the history of Hogwarts that forced Severus to resort to physical violence. This was in fact the second time he'd manhandled the teenager. How was it possible Dumbledore remained so calm and collected?

“I have heard many rumours about your treatment of the boy, Severus,” Albus said gravely. “But I did not feel you disapprove of him to such a degree.”

“It was not...” Severus begun, but Dumbledore held up a hand and cut him off.

“I know it was not your intention to be physical with him. But I am speaking of your relationship with Harry in general. How you act towards and around him in the classroom, and outside of it. I cannot say I approve any longer.”

Severus frowned at Dumbledore. He did not approve any longer? What was that suppose to mean? Had he approved before?

“I will not go into that. You know yourself how you wronged Harry.” Dumbledore did not let go of Severus' gaze and the Potions Master noticed something disconcerting. It was one of those rare times where Dumbledore's eyes did not twinkle. And as much as Severus found the sparkle immensely irritating, the absence of it meant bad things.

“I have let it go in the past, but now I make my expectations clear,” Dumbledore continued. “Your prejudice towards Harry is no longer tolerated, Severus. Be harsh if you must. But your bitterness towards him must end.”

Easier said that done. Severus thought. The animosity between him and Potter could not disappear within a fortnight.

“Regarding hese Occlumency lessons, you have said that Harry has made little or no progress. You insist that this is due to Harry's incompetence and lack of cooperation, but can you swear to me that the blame lies solely on his shoulders?”

Severus did not speak.

Dumbledore sighed. “I gave you an responsibility, Severus. You are the only one I trust to teach Harry. Has that trust been misplaced?”

“No, no, of course not,” Severus answered hastily. He did not want to disappoint his mentor, though it was a tad late for that.

Dumbledore looked at Severus with a severe eye and said with undeniable authority. “I believe we have had this conversation before, Severus. This is not the first time you have lost your temper around Harry, but it shall be the last. Do I make myself clear?”

Severus would be a fool to contradicted Albus Dumbledore. He gulped, when Dumbledore was angry, he was a force to be reckoned with. “Yes, headmaster,” Severus answered unflinchingly, even as his heart raced.

Dumbledore's features softened. “Do you truly hate him, Severus?” He questioned somberly. “Do you really believe that he is James? Harry and his father share many similarities, but he is more like his mother in ways you never cared to notice. More than anything else, Harry is his own individual.”

Severus choose to remain silent

“Tell me Severus, is it hate you hold for Harry Potter?” Dumbledore's tone was grave once more. “A great contempt? Perhaps a dark despise?”

Hate?

Severus Snape detested Harry Potter on every level. He abhorred the fact that Harry was James' son, that he was the Golden Boy Who Lived, that he held such resemblance to his father. Severus cursed Harry's disregard for the rules, the welfare of both himself and those around him. He sneered at Harry's self-sacrificing attitude and Gryffindor foolhardy audaciousness; his hero complex and ridiculous so called 'bravery'. Harry Potter has caused Severus Snape much grief...

But hate?

No.

Severus knew hate. Hate was too strong, too dark, too evil. Hate was too much, like a never-ending moonless night. Hate was not what he felt for Harry Potter. Hate was reserved for only a couple of individuals in his life. He hated the Dark Lord, perhaps James Potter and his friends, but not Harry. It was true, as loath as he was to admit it, Harry Potter was just a boy.

“No.”

“Harry is a good boy, despite his faults,” Dumbledore said, relaxing into a genuine smile and leaning back into his chair. “Just like you are, Severus, despite yours.”

Severus snorted, Dumbledore was the only person on earth that addressed him as 'boy' (and got away with it.) “All the professors have wonderful things to say about Harry, except for you. It is not hard to see the good in the boy. If you would only open your eyes and see, you'll realize that he is covered head to toe with good qualities.”

Severus snorted again. Wonderful things about Harry Potter were hard to come by for the simple fact that they did not exist. The old man believed everyone to be as bright and 'wondrous' as his sherbet lemons Severus did not know what possible 'wonderful' things his colleagues had to say about Potter, either. Harry's grades were laughable at best.

The headmaster smiled at him knowingly. “He may not be an academic, but academics are not always what is most important.”

Severus grimaced.

“Give the boy the benefit of the doubt, Severus, like I gave you.”

Severus sighed, Albus Dumbledore had taken him in and gave him a second chance at life. As a young man Severus had made many unforgivable transgressions- mistakes that condemned him forever in the eyes of the majority of the wizarding world. Albus Dumbledore was renowned for his amnesty and ability to forgive. He was the only one willing to give Severus any reprieve.

Severus had been living the darkest days of his life, and at certain points he had wished to die. Dumbledore, being Dumbledore, just had to intervene.

“Perhaps you should invite him for tea?” Dumbledore suggested, the famous twinkle returning to his eyes.

“WHAT!” Severus spoke vehemently, suddenly breaking his silence. Of all the....Dumbledore was damn unpredictable.

“After the lessons, Severus. Get to know him.” Dumbledore answered coolly.

“Headmaster, you cannot be serious!” Severus was outraged. “I am not having tea with Potter!”

“No?” Dumbledore raised an amused eyebrow. “Ah, I will not force you to, Severus. But do try. Harry is so much more than just James Potter's son.”

Severus felt the magic around him, Dumbledore's aura alone was powerful enough to sweep him off his feet. There was no room for disagreement.

“I will endeavor to be less hostile, headmaster,” Severus complied.

Dumbledore was not satisfied with Severus' insubstantial answer.

“His training must continue next year, and you know I have been thinking about adding defense to his training. This means that the hours you spend with each other will only increase. Harry will be more willing to learn if the atmosphere between you were not so tense.”

Severus nodded, the thought of spending even more time with Harry put him in a frown, but his answer was filled with utmost sincerity.

“I will try my best, Albus.”

“That is all I ask for, my boy,” Dumbledore smiled benignly. “Don't fret, Severus. I have complete faith in you as well as Harry. Your relationship with the boy will improve with time.”

And with that, the old Wizard took another sip of his hot tea. “Sure you would not care for some tea, Severus?”

Severus returned to his quarters well past midnight. His talk with Dumbedore had gone better than expected. The old wizard was clearly and understandably angry at Severus. But Dumbledore hadn't yell, or even raise his voice. Severus fully believed that he was in for a long talk with his boss Dumbledore had not said much at all. The headmaster's expectations, however, were made obvious in those few words.

After practically forcing him to have tea, Severus and Dumbledore went on to discuss other issues and the situation with Harry became irrelevant. When they called it a night, the headmaster had said that he would call Harry to his office in a few days time, and the matter would be resolved there and then. He also grinned and told his Potions profession very simply that should something like this happen again, the consequences would be 'unfavourable'. However, behind that cool and gentle smile, Severus knew Dumbledore meant business.

Worst than that, Albus Dumbledore was always right.

Severus shook his head incredulously, his 'relationship' with Potter? Improve?

Unlikely.

 A new day dawned on Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry Potter turned groggily in his bed and groaned at the thought of classes. Mostly, he was grieving over double Potions. Potions was bad enough, double Potions was near unbearable, but double Potions first thing in the morning with Slytherins was plain unfair! Furthermore, after the disaster last night, Harry didn't thinking he could stand being in Snape's presence.

The night before, Harry had returned to Gryffindor Tower ten minutes after curfew. Out of pure curiosity, he opened the Occlumency text and flipped through it. Ron and Hermione, upon seeing this strange behaviour from their best friend had entirely different reactions. Hermione, being Hermione, was ecstatic at Harry's new found interest in academics. Ron, being Ron gawked at the huge text and called Snape a bastard for making Harry read so much. Before anyone knew what was happening, an argument had broken out between the two. Harry had gone upstairs and left the two to bicker like an old married couple in the common room.

Now on his bed with the morning sun high on the horizon, Harry let the breath out of his lungs in an over dramatic, forlorn sigh. He flipped onto his back and slammed his head down onto the fluffy pillow. It was too early to get up, and there was no way he was going back to sleep again. Harry had developed the annoying habit of getting up early. Back "home" at the Dursleys, he'd always had to get up at the crack of dawn to put on the coffee and make breakfast for the family. Even though he'd had a late night, his internal clock refused to let him sleep past eight.

Harry nearly always turned in early after his Occlumency lessons; the sessions wore him out completely. The events of this particular Monday had been exhausting in particular. Nonetheless, he was up most of the night. After trying to sleep for hours, Harry finally gave up and pulled out the Occlumency book Snape had given him. The Gryffindor skimmed over the table of contents, chapter titles, and prologue, hoping he would get bored enough to pass out and not wake up again till morning. As it turned out, the text was not half as dull as he thought it would be. It was actually rather interesting. In fact, Harry read the entire five page introduction ofOcclumency for the Feeble Minded in a short amount of time and it surprisingly made sense. For the first time, Harry felt that he might be an Occlumens yet. Satisfied, the teenager fell at asleep…finally at three in the morning.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Double Potions? First thing in the morning? Bloody Hell!" Ron protested loudly as he made his way towards the Great Hall for breakfast, with Harry and Hermione in toll. "It's a conspiracy, Harry! What were they thinking? Potions is bad enough, but four hours of it? I'd rather attend one of Filch's detentions!"

Harry smiled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Ron wasn't a morning person, and never had been a Potions devotee.

"It's just not fair!" The red head continued to whine. "And with the Slytherins! Who makes the schedule anyway? I bet it's Snape! The git must have done this just to make us miserable!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," she said to him. "Professor Snape isn't in charge of the timetables. Everyone knows that that's the duty of the Deputy Headmistress. In this case, it is Professor McGonagall."

But Ron would not be deterred. "I'm telling you, guys, Snape had a hand in this. I just know it."

"Why do you always assume he's up to something?" Hermione said, looking at Ron exasperatedly.

"Because he's Snape! He's always up to some nefarious, secret plot to humiliate us." Ron rationalized, gesturing actively with his hands.

"To humiliate me, you mean," Harry said glumly. At least 99% of the time. His friends didn't appear to hear him. Harry was not surprised, when Ron and Hermione start, all their focus is on each other.

"You're just being silly. Professor Snape has got better things to do than to make us miserable. Besides, he is a professor, and professors don't go about trying to make their students' lives miserable."

You want to bet on that, Hermione? I'll bet you my firebolt that he does not have better things to do. Harry thought silently to himself, even though he knew it was untrue.

"But this isn't just any professor, Hermione. This is Snape. You've seen the way he treats us Gryffindors, especially Harry and Neville."

"That's just the way he is."

Then I hate what he is. Harry mused to himself. Why can't he just leave me alone? Why can't he leave Neville alone?

"He's a miserable, bullying bat who always enjoys a go at anyone who's not in Slytherin. And a Death Eater at that!"

"I am not having this conversation with you again, Ron," Hermione huffed. "Snape works for Dumbldore remember? He's on our side. Just recall all the times he's saved Harry; like in first year when he countered Quirrell's curse, and in third year when he tried to protect us from Professor Lupin during the full moon. Just drop it, okay!"

Sure, at this rate I'll end up owing him half a dozen life-debts by the time I graduate. That's just what I need.

"You drop it!" Ron snapped. "Why can't you just accept that Snape is evil and out to get us?"

"Professor Snape is not out to get anyone!" Hermione exclaimed. "And he is not 'evil'; I don't know where you got that idea."

"I can't believe you are still not convinced. Just look at the way..." but Ron did not get to finish his sentence as Harry interrupted, deciding that he'd left the conversation for far too long.

"Hermione's right, Ron..." he said. It was not difficult to believe that their potions professor would go out of his way to torment Harry and his friends. But in Harry's opinion, Snape would rather avoid having to deal with him at all.

Ron rounded on him. "Oh great, Harry. Take her side!"

"No, listen," Harry explained. "Snape may hate us all. But if he despises us so much. He'd want to spend as little time with us as possible, right?"

"Well..." Ron knitted his brows together, but finally relented. "Fine, when you put it that way....maybe. But still, double Potions! First thing in the morning! Why not just kill me now?"

Hermione shook her head in exasperation.

"No, seriously! See, four hours of Potions means that there's time to finish some mysterious potion, and test it! With any luck, Snape will have me test Neville's potion."

"Oh, like yours are any better," Hermione giggled, poking Ron with her index finger.

Ron glared at her, but the truth was, his potions were usually as bad as Neville's. The only difference was that Neville's potions tended to blow up more often.

"Shut up! At least mine don't blow up," Ron shouted defensively.

"Look on the bright side, Ron," Harry offered sarcastically as the trio entered the Great Hall. "If Neville's potion blows up or melts through the cauldron, you'll have to test mine instead."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Quit your whining," Hermione berated as the three found an empty spot in the middle of the Gryffindor table. She sat herself down in between the two boys. "You are not the only one with double Potions, you know!" But breakfast was already on the table, and Ron ignored his bushy haired friend in favour of the most important meal of the day.

Ron, having stacked his plate full of eggs, bacon, sausages, a chocolate croissant, and a banana muffin, reached for the pumpkin juice and poured himself a glass full. Hermione grimaced at the fatty foods on his plate and started to lecture him about his eating habits, and urging him to try the fruit salad. Paying minimal attention to Hermione, Ron continued to stuff his mouth full of scrambled eggs and swallowed loudly.

Harry stayed usually quiet throughout breakfast, mulling over the upcoming potions class.

Ron doesn't know how good he has it. Try being me right this minute and you'll know the real meaning of conspiracy and unfair.

Harry wasn't sure if he was ready to face Snape yet. Not even a day has passed since the incident which destroyed any dignity Harry held in presence of the Potions Master. He was fairly sure Snape would not reveal anything to his classmates or the Slytherins, but knew Snape might drop little hints here and there just to rile him up. Snape was expert at that. Harry thought of going to the twins and getting some Puking Pastilles from them, but there was no time for an owl order to their shop. It's just as well, Snape would surely see right through his puking and Harry would end up scrubbing grime off the dungeon floors. He'd just have to ride it out like he always did.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Half an hour later, Hermione dragged the two boys down to the potions classroom. She was excited for a new day of learning while Ron continued to complain about the diabolical arrangement of classes. They was soon joined by the rest of the Gryffinor fifth years, and unfortunately, the Slytherins as well. Harry simply trudged along, feeling woebegone and melancholic, as if the whole world was going to collapse around him.

The Potions classroom was a cold, dark and desolate place, where lies the most unpopular professor in recorded history. Non-Slytherin students entered this forbidding dwelling filled with anxiety and fear, and left either despairing or fighting the urge to smash something brittle. For the Golden Trio, every potion turned out very much the same and today was no exception.

The hours passed agonizingly slow. Snape sneered and glared for four hours straight, making sure each and every Gryffindor got their share, it's a wonder the man never got tired.

Harry remained reserved and tried to ignore Snape when he was looming over him. In all fairness, Professor Snape was really no more and no less nasty than he usually was. He hadn't dropped any hints about the previous night, or mocked Harry any more than he usually did. Harry had been so sure that the man would try something, when nothing out of the ordinary happened, Harry began to wonder if his professor had been Obliviated.

Neville's potion had managed not to blow up and had merely smoked everyone out of the lab with help from Malfoy's projectile. When it was safe enough to reenter the classroom, there was no time left to test anyone's potions. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

The Gryffindors were saved by Neville...or was it Malfoy?

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus was angry to say the least. Once again, Longbottom had nearly disintegrated his Potions classroom and everyone in it. And no, he was definitely not exaggerating! The truth was that there was no explosions or a blaze or even a single unintended flame, and the toxic smoke was not too deadly. But still, if he hadn't acted quickly and shooed everyone out of the room Madam Pompfrey would have found herself an additional thirty patients, which made for a very annoyed school nurse.

Draco had once again took one of his pranks too far. Severus found himself more angry at his Slytherin pupil than at the clumsy Gryffindor. Adding random ingredients into any potion was very dangerous, especially one that was still on the flame. Draco ought to have known that. The boy didn't do any real harm this time, but the day will come when Draco will misjudge the reaction of certain ingredients…and then what? Severus knew that Draco's pranks were just that, pranks, at times cruel but they cause any real harm. But what happens if the chemical reaction caused permanent damage? What happens if, Merlin forbid, somebody ended up, well……

Severus decided not to go in that direction, least it comes true. The Potions Master sighed, he had yet to speak to the boy about his bullying, now there was another subject to add to their talk later.

As for Potter, he was another subject all together. Severus avoided thinking about the Gryffindor, which was hard when the boy was right there in front of him, stealing nervous glances his way. Dumbledore's request echoed in his ears with irritating repetition. Harry is a good boy. Give him a chance. Invite him for tea. Tea indeed! He loomed over Potter for awhile before moving away, content on just staying away from him for the moment.

Severus was not proud of what he did and took Dumbledore's words to heart, like he always did. He would give Potter one chance, just one.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next few days passed without any real incidents. Malfoy seemed to be more hostile than usual, but his clashes with Harry only went as far as uncivilized verbal spouts. On one occasion, the Slytherin actually drew his wand, but didn't cast a single spell. Instead, he pushed past Harry and stomped off, swearing loudly. No harm done, but Harry was left to believe Snape really did talk with the chauvinistic bigot. However that didn't stop the blond from verbally harassing Harry and his friends whenever and wherever he saw fit.

All too soon it was Monday again and time for Occlumency. Harry had crammed all Sunday night, all Monday morning, some more Monday afternoon and he still wasn't ready. It was dinner time and Harry had exactly one hour before he had to meet Snape. One more hour to study his block off.

"Don't you ever have fun, Hermione? Why do you study so much? I mean seriously, it's like you are incapable of anything but," Ron deadpanned as the trio sat in the Great Hall, waiting for supper to appear on the table.

SPLAT!

Hermione slammed her Arithmacy text onto the table before sitting down. "We have OWLs, Ron! They're only a few weeks away! Fun can wait till the summer holidays," she said sounding a tad eccentric.

"The summer holidays, she says! Can you believe that, Harry?" Ron said ghastly, quite disturbed by what Hermione just said. "The summer holidays! I...oh, not you too, Harry!" Ron's eyes widened disbelievingly at Harry, who just opened the formidable looking Occlumency book.

"Shite! Snape's brainwashed our Harry! Somebody, get help!"

Hermione scowled at her friend's foul language and rebuked. "Ron, language! And don't be ridiculous. Snape has not brainwashed Harry. Harry has just gained some sense, haven't you Harry?"

Harry shifted his eyes between his two best friends. "Uhhhh...yes?"

"You see? Harry has learned when it is time for fun, and when it is time for study. You, Ronald, should take a page from his book."

"That book? Are you mad? That thing is duller than a dictionary. And more confusing if that dictionary happened to be in French."

"It's a figure of speech, Ron."

"Right..." the red head nodded, shifting his eyes. "Anyways, Harry, you shouldn't be studying so much. You're turning into Hermione, mate. We guys need to stick together!"

"I'm sorry I can't Ron, Occlumency is in an hour and I've got ten more pages to read and memorize!" Harry said in a slightly panicked voice.

"I can't believe Snape is making you read so much! It's bloody impossible, nobody could read that much! Doesn't he know we have lives outside of class? I mean, I know it's important and all but, he doesn't have you assign you 100 pages!"

"Grrr, tell me about it," Harry answered, and began to read as fast as he could, trying to not to blank out.

One hour later, Harry flipped the book shut and groaned. He had finally finished reading the assigned pages, all 117 pages of it, and now he had a migraine. How was he going to occlude Snape with a splitting headache? Did he mention he'd only eaten a small turkey sandwich? How was he supposed to concentrate with a half empty stomach?

Ron stopped talking to Seamus when he noticed Harry bang his head on the table. "Occlumency time, mate?"

"Yeah..." Harry groaned, rubbing his temple with his hand.

"Headache?"

"Yeah..." Harry grumbled painfully.

"See? See? I told you that you shouldn't read so much!" Ron bragged, making Hermione scowl.

"The only reason Harry has a headache is because he didn't read enough!" She scolded.

"WHAT?" Harry and Ron said simultaneously.

"I read for hours last night, and I haven't had a moments rest all day!" Harry exclaimed, a little cross. "That doesn't make any sense anyhow. How can I get a headache from reading too little?"

"Well," Hermione returned calmly, if a bit airily. "If you had read more during the week, you wouldn't have to cram all yesterday and today. Don't you know cramming is bad for you, anyhow it doesn't even work."

"Oh, please," Ron scoffed. "You should see the way you yourself cram before an exam, you hardly sleep the night before."

Hermione glared at him. "Well, I'm just saying. If cramming gives you a headache, don't do it again."

Harry groaned again and rubbed his face with his hands.

Hermione sighed, eyes moving upwards and shook her head in a way that said 'boys, what am I going to do with those two'

Abruptly, she swung her feet over the bench and ran from the Great Hall."Wait here," she called back to the two bewildered boys.

Ron looked at Harry. "What's she up to now?" Harry shrugged. "Don't suppose it's the library again? I think it's her favourite room in all of Hogwarts." Ron carried on and Harry just slammed his head back down again, his forehead hitting the book with a small thud.

Hermione came back five minute later, huffing and puffing. She stood there and held out a vial of green coloured potion, looking extremely proud of herself though she would never admit it.

"What's that suppose to be?" Ron asked, eyeing at the pulp with distaste.

"It's a headache reliever," she explained pleasantly, "I was saving it for my exams, but you need it more than I do and I can always make more."

"You made this?" Harry took the vial and looked at the potion, and then back at Hermione. He really shouldn't be surprised, but he was. "When did you make this? How?"

"Unlike some people," Hermione returned steadily. "I actually read educational material in my free time."

"Quidditch magazines are educational!" Ron objected and tried to sound smart. "They teach you loads about new moves and always has the latest news on sport politics! The International Quidditch Council even has debates ion the Quidditch handbook once in a while."

Hermione failed to dignify him with an answer; she would never truly understand the boys' obsession with Quidditch. "Well, I made this one when you and Harry are out playing your silly Quidditch games."

Ron's jaw dropped open. "Silly? How could you...Herminoe, that is it.  Why are we friends again?" he spluttered, clearly wanting to say that Quidditch could not be silly because Hermione herself had went to several games and enjoyed them. Harry jumped in before the other two started at each other's throats.

"I thought students weren't allowed to make potions by themselves."

"Oh, I asked Professor Snape for permission, and he gave me some ingredients and the lab to use."

"You asked Snape?" Ron said loudly with a look of disbelief on his face.

"And he said yes?" Harry added astonishingly.

Hermione frowned. "Well, yes, of course he did. Why wouldn't he? I mean, he wasn't very kind about it. He accused me of not being able to handle the pressure and asked all sorts of questions about why I would need such a potion. But it was all talk, he let me in the end, I knew he would."

"Are you sure that was Snape?" Ron demanded "He really just let you brew a potion unsupervised? He'd never let me do that."

"I wouldn't let you brew a potion by yourself, Ron, not one this advanced anyway. He'll never admit it, but I am one of his best students. And like I said, he is a professor. No matter how strict or aggravating he can be, he is supposed to help his students."

"Why didn't you just order some from an apothecary? Or ask Madam Pomfrey for some?" Ron asked.

"There's no challenge in that, is there? It's so much more rewarding if you make it yourself."

Ron shook his head from side to side with shock. "Unbelievable. You are unbelievable." Hermione just shrugged, and sat down again.

"Well thanks, Hermione! You're a life saver!" Harry said, deciding it was time to step in again.

"I know," she grinned. "But just remember, no more..."

"Cramming, I know, I know," Harry grumbled as he downed the potion.

"Should take about five to ten minutes to start working," Hermione informed.

Harry grimaced before choking out. "Okay, thanks."

"You're going to miss the match, Harry." Ron finally snapped out of his disbelieving daze and said.

Harry turned his head. "Gee, thanks for reminding me."

"Rotten luck."

"Yeah..."

"Well, maybe he'll let you off..."

"Fat chance," Harry mumbled.

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione sounded concerned for her friend. She looked at him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You seem distracted, is something bothering you?"

"Well, duh! of course he's distracted, Hermione!" Ron said obviously. "He's going to miss Quidditch!"

"Oh, honestly. I don't see what the big deal is," Hermione said, gesturing with one hand.

"It's Quidditch! Of course it's a big deal!"

"Oh, and I suppose it is a bigger deal that Harry's safety?" Hermione chided.

"Well, of course not, but...."

"There you have it then," Hermione finished and changed the subject before Ron could say another word. "You should get going, Harry. Don't want to be late, ever minute counts."

"Yeah, don't want the greasy git to give you another detention for being ten second late."

"Yeah..."

"Harry, are you sure you are alright?" Hermione asked again. "Want us to walk you down?"

"Nah...don't worry about me, you guys. Just go to the game and have fun, you can tell me all about it afterwards."

"Sure thing mate, I'll see you around."

"Yeah, bye."

"See you, Harry. And don't you let him get to you!" Hermione shouted to Harry's back.

Yeah, easy for you to say. Harry thought to dejectedly as he embarked on another journey to the land of doom.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus was grumpy.

He was not at all looking forward to his weekly appointment with Harry Potter. Needless to say, he had better things to do with his time. For one thing, the Dark Lord had assigned him to brew a dozen malicious potions, some of which needed his undivided attention for several hours. Beyond that there were his regular professor and Head of House duties in addition to Order of the Phoenix reports to finish. That in itself left little time for recreation and personal matters, and now he had to waste a perfectly good Monday evening planning and trying to teach Potter Occlumency...trying being the key word.

Severus had an entire week to muse over Harry and his talk with Dumbledore and had come to a few conclusions. He would go with his decision on Tuesday night; do as Dumbledore had ordered and be less hostile. If things go badly, nobody could say the potions master didn't try.

"Mr. Potter," Severus drawled with flat enthusiasm. "Cutting it a bit close, aren't we?"

"Good evening, Professor," Harry greeted. He had no idea what Severus was talking about, he was a whole minute early.

"We shall see," Severus replied nonchalantly. He got up and walked to the middle of the room where their lesson always took place. "I assume you have followed my instructions and completed the assigned reading. Because if you haven't..."

"Yes, sir. I've read the first three chapters like you said," Harry answered quickly, dropping his bag to the side.

"We'll see about that, questions?"

"No, professor." Amazingly enough, Harry had understood most of the material. Where he had trouble, Hermione had been glad to help – she really did knoweverything!

"Are you sure, Potter?" Severus asked dubiously. He did not believe Harry had the capability to understand the first year Potions text, let alone something as advanced as the Occlumency book.

"Yes, sir."

"My, my, this is a surprise. It looks like you are not entirely hopeless after all." The cynicism in his voice could not be missed. But coming from Severus, the words were practically praise. "Very well, then we will begin."

Before Harry could respond, Severus had spoken again.

"On three," he started dully, as if bored by the whole experience. "One, two, three. Legilimens."

To be continued...

“On three,” Snape started dully, as if bored by the whole experience. “One, two, three. Legilimens.”

Darkness and confusion.  Memories flashed before Harry eyes like stills from a black and white film. His heart thudded under his chest. Where was he? What was he suppose to do again? Clear your mind! A harsh voice scolded him.

Clear his mind? How in the world was he suppose to do that when...Harry felt a familiar intrusion in his mind, something was pushing, trying to force its way in.  Harry tried to get to it, but it was too far away! He wouldn't reach it in time! It was strong too, even if he could get to it, there was little chance he could keep it out. He had to concentrate...but the force was pulling now, grabbing, taking the memories from him...and then...as simply as that...

Harry was five or six. Uncle Vernon just got a huge promotion at Gunnings and took the entire family out to dinner at an expensive restaurant. But since Harry wasn't considered part of the family, he was left alone in the cupboard with half of an old apple.

Harry fought to get the memory back, but before he could get to the intruder, it abandoned the memory and moved on. It was gone again, and so far away...searching again...it was looking for something. There!  It found it...it was another memory.  Harry hurried to lay claim. It had no right! These memories were private, they were his!

“Hurry up, boy! I have a very important reception this evening and that car better be spotless and sparkling by six o'clock or you can forget about supper!” Uncle Vernon bellowed as he pushed Harry into the garage none too gently, Harry tripped and fell, scraping his knee.

Harry tugged and pulled, trying to wrestle the memory back with all his vigour. But the intruder was too strong; he did not stand a chance. He fought to no avail; it seems that the harder he fought, the harder the force fought back.  He growled with frustration, feeling utterly helpless. Suddenly, the presence was gone and the memory hurled back at him...sending him head over heels.

“POTTER!” An angry voice snapped.

Harry's eyes tore open and as the room came to focus around him.  It took a second for his mind to realize where he was; he was Snape's office, he was learning Occlumency…or trying to anyway.  Harry was bent slightly over, and pressed the palm of his hand to his head, right above the temple.  His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and he shook his head, trying hard to rid his mind of the memories that were forced to the surface.  Harry groaned as he caught his breathe. Great, he thought, they’d barely begun and he already had a headache.

00ooOoo00

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Severus shouted in anger, frustration seeping into him like smoke from the cracks around the door.

Harry flinched at the furious tone. “I...I...”

“Did you not read the book like I told you to?” Severus demanded. “If you are lying to me...”

“No!” Harry said breathlessly, shaking his head.  He wouldn't dare lie to Snape about something like that; after all, the professor could just force the truth from him via Legilimency. “I...I did, I swear. I read everything you asked me to!”

“Really? Then perhaps you can tell me why you continue to fail? Why are you not following the instructions? Can't you do what you are told for once?” Severus demanded in a frightening tone, temporarily ignoring Dumbledore’s request.  

This is an impossible task! Hopeless! How does that Dumbledore expect me to teach this denser than lead idiot? I gave Potter one more chance and he has only proved to be even more useless!

“I’m doing the best...” Harry began, but Severus did not let him finish.

“Clearly, you do not take these lessons seriously! How do you expect to learn anything if you do not try?” Severus fumed.

“I am trying. I just...I don’t know what to do. Why can’t you just tell me?” Harry pleaded, his emotions starting to simmer.

Severus ignored him as usual.  He grabbed Harry's bag and dumped the contents onto the floor, retrieving the Occlumency book and flipped speedily through its pages.

“Insolence. You were trying to take the memory back! You are nowhere near that level of study! The text clearly said to focus your energy on blocking me out!” Severus spoke angrily and shoved the open book into Harry's chest. Harry jumped and held the opened pages in his hands.

“Once I got hold of the memory, you should not have wasted your energy trying to get it back, you would never have succeeded.  Getting a memory that I have already obtained requires you to fight me for it, it requires you to go on the offensive.  And you, Potter, have barely grasped the meaning of defence, let along achieve it! Do not think so highly of yourself, you arrogant boy! You are not there yet!” He snapped and took a breather.

“There are multiple tactics one can employ to retrieve a stolen memory, none of which you are yet capable of.  For now concentrate on blocking and prevent me from getting the memory in the first place! Do I make myself clear?”

Harry bristled and glared at Snape.  What was he supposed to have done—simply gave in and let Snape view the memory?  No way!  He’d fight as long as he had fight left in him.

“Do I make myself clear, Potter?” Severus asked again and Harry nodded wordlessly.

Severus took a deep breath to calm himself and raised his wand.

00ooOoo00

Harry braised himself for another assault.  The book said to employ one of two strategies, Harry recalled; one, clear your mind of all emotion and two, focus your entire being on something and nothing else.  The Gryffindor tried to focus on a game of Quidditch, but as significant as Quidditch is to him, Harry could not prevent his mind from wandering…

Tears; Cho was crying.  It was his first kiss with Cho. Harry’s face burned as he watched helplessly as the scene played out vividly right in front of his eyes.  He had to do something—anything to stop Snape from viewing this very private and embarrassing memory. Harry saw himself leaning in forward for the kiss...their lips almost touching…and… Harry really tried remain stoic and unemotional, but he could not.  Snape always did go for the worst memories, the most private and embarrassing once, Harry thought bitterly.  If the memories were less emotional or neutral, he might actually stand a chance.  The teenager tried thinking of nothing....nothing but a vast white...but the white turned black...

Dementors---Harry hated Dementors.  Every time they were near, he would see his mother and hear her dying screams, pleading for his life.  Harry was riding the Hogwarts Express…the train jerked and came to a sudden stop…his friend Ron peered out the window…the air became ice cold… the next thing he knew a dark shadow was at the compartment door and someone screamed...“

Expecto Patronum!” Harry screamed, so horrifyingly engrossed in the memory that he cast the Patronus charm.  The instant relief he felt did not last long for when Harry opened his eyes a magnificent stag had burst from the tip of his wand and charged towards the only target in the room, Snape.  Oh shite!

Snape stumbled backwards several steps, instinctively casting the only protection against charging Patronus, another Patronus.  In half a heartbeat, Snape flicked his wand wordlessly and his own Patronus rushed forth, ready to defend its caster. 

Time seem to slow down for Harry, who stared wide-eyed at the scene in front of him.  He couldn’t believe what just happened.  What had he done!  He’d just sent his Patronus to attack Snape! What was going to happen now?  He had no idea how two Patronus fought, he’d neither seen or read about Patronuses fighting each other.  Whatever the case, the teenager was sure his Patronus was about to take a beating from Snape’s and then he’d have to personally face Snape’s wrath.  Great, now I’m gonna get it. Can this day get any worse?

The two Patronuses raced forward, closing the distance between their cast in the blink of an eye, ready to face down and…stopped.  Their brightness dimmed until one could make out their silhouette and then gradually, what they were.  Two silver steeds, a doe and a stag, stood face to face and gazed at one another in wonder.  A moment of silence passed as neither the steeds nor their casters moved or spoke. Then, the pale white doe cocked its head.  The stag, taller of the two, lowered its great head in a light bow, perhaps showing respect or just saying hello.  The stag once again stood tall, shimmered and dissolved into the air. The doe turned its head and looked at its caster then, it too vanished.

“POTTER!

00ooOoo00

 “POTTER!” Severus shouted, advancing on Harry like a man with a vendetta. “What was that?”

Harry cringed and gulped at the mutinous look on Severus’ face.

Severus came to a stop in front of Harry and leaned dangerously over the smaller boy. “A Patronus charm, Potter? Tell me, what does a Patronus charm have to do with Occlumency and clearing your mind?”

“I’m sorry!”

“Not good enough!”

Harry jumped.

A harsh breath escaped Severus’ lungs and he shook his head in exasperation.

“What am I going to do with you, Potter?”

Why isn’t he getting it? Snape did not recall Occlumency being so difficult to learn.  Perhaps if I took Potter’s wand... without his wand, Potter will be forced to rely solely on his mind…like I did.

“How many times do I have to tell you before it penetrates that think skull of yours? Do not let your emotions control you. Act, do not react!” Severus reprimanded.

Harry continued to stare at Severus’s shoes.

“It is impolite to stare at one’s shoes when they are speaking to you.”

Harry blushed and turned his head away. Severus sighed once more.

 “Stay focused, let go and remain calm. Remember, clear your mind and then try to repel me.  We will try this again, but first give me your wand.”

That made Harry look up. “What? Why?” He cried as his fingers tightened around his wand.

“Because without its security you will be forced to rely on your mind alone,” Severus explained impatiently and held his hand out. “Now give me your wand.”

Harry hesitated, but the look on Severus’ face left no place for argument. “Fine.” He complied and placed his precious wand in Severus’ open hand.  Severus took the wand and put it into his robe pocket.  Harry eyed Severus angrily, hating the man more and more.

“Ready on three.  One, two, three. Legilimence.”

00ooOoo00

Harry tried again to clear his mind, to focus on anything other than the bad events in his life.  But Snape was an expert at dragging his focus to those exact events.  It’s probably a hobby of his, Harry reckoned angrily.

'This is too easy', said Snape; 'you are not trying hard enough', said Snape; 'clear your mind', said Snape; 'CONCENTRATE', said Snape.  Well, it was very hard to concentrate with someone shouting bloody insults in your ear!  It went on and on and on. At the end of one hour, Harry was at his physical and emotional end.

Only then did they stop.

“Hmm,” Snape grimaced and continued icily. “Mediocre. You should know that I do not settle for mediocrity, Mr. Potter.”

Harry lay on the stone floor, his breaths coming in laboured gasps. Snape's criticism only made things worse. Harry closed his eyes, clenched his teeth together and tried to take deep, calming breaths.  It was all he could not to shout back with an angry retort.

“But I suppose it is...adequate for now,” Snape added flatly, making Harry glance up and gawk with an open mouth. 

“Well, don't just lay there, get up!” the potions master snapped as he grabbed a hold of Harry's arm and helped the exhausted teenager to his feet. Snape looked at the young wizard distastefully. “What is it you about me that is so fascinating that you find the need to stare?” Harry looked away promptly, blushing.

Snape rolled his eyes, “Some water?” He asked, leading Harry to a chair at his desk.

Harry frowned at Snape as if the man had grew another head and nodded meekly.

 “Sit,” Snape said as he pushed Harry into the chair, and went to fetch a glass. Harry sank down on the chair, hunched over and wiped the sweat from his forehead.  Boy was he glad that was over, he felt like he’d just wrote a four hour long Transfiguration exam while climbing Mount Everest in heavy fog. His head ached terribly for the exertion and it would take awhile for his heart to stop beating so wildly against his chest

 “Thank you,” Harry said gratefully when his professor returned with a glass of water and handed it to him.  The teenager took several gulps and drank his fill before putting the glass down. 

“Here.”

Harry looked up. Snape was holding a vial of potion in front of him.  The boy frowned.

“It will ease the headache which you no doubt have,” Snape said coolly.

Harry thanked him and drank the potion, making a face as the disgusting substance slid down his throat.

“Blegh.”

Snape smirked as he took the now empty vial from Harry.

“He couldn’t have given it to me before I drank all the water?” Harry muttered under his breath.

Snape, having heard said, “Why would I do that?”

Harry scowled, still trying to get the taste out of his mouth. “So I can get the taste out of my mouth git!” He couldn’t resist muttering.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “My point exactly.”

Harry stole a glance at the potions master, who had sat down in his armchair opposite. 

What does Snape want with him now, Harry wondered.  Was he still angry about the Patronus charm?  He didn’t seem so. Snape had never offered him a glass of water and a pain reliever after their lessons.  Usually, the potions master was only too eager boot him out of the room and deducting several points as he did so. 

Even more confusing, had Snape just complimented him? Snape never even came close to anything non-sarcastic to say to him, let alone a real and genuine compliment. Mediocre but adequate.  Trust Snape to put insult and compliment into the single sentence, the sarcastic git!  But coming from that man adequate meant the same as ‘outstanding’ or ‘excellent’.

Harry doubt he would get anything more than ‘adequate’ as a compliment out of Snape.  But why bother complimenting him at all?  Snape was not a generous man, especially when it came to giving credit to Gryffindors.  Harry could not recall the last time his potions professor had said something positive about him.  Snape had not been totally indecent this week and it was bizarre. Harry dreaded what was to come; surely Snape had nothing more good to say. Plus, Snape’s strange behaviour made him unpredictable. 

That’s all he needs now, Harry thought sarcastically.

 The young Gryffindor took a deep breath and waited for his professor to start berating him.

00oOo00

Severus shook his head as Harry collapsed onto the stone floor gasping. Potter looked exhausted.  Good, that means he’s at least trying.  He had to admit that there was a slight improvement over the previous week.  They were finally getting somewhere, slowly but surely.

“Mediocre.  You should know that I do not settle for mediocrity, Mr. Potter” Severus chastised and watched closely as Harry gritted his teeth and tried to contain his temper. Not bad, Potter. You’re learning. “But I suppose it is…adequate for now.”

When Harry looked up, Severus had on his usual cool mask of indifference, as if nothing had happened.

“Well, don’t just lay there, get up!” Severus snapped, but took Harry by the arm to drag him to his feet.”

He then offered Harry water, some headache reliever and watched as Harry downed both. Not that he cared. He simply needs the boy to concentrate, and Potter had a hard time doing that at the best of times.

“Chapter four discusses some complicated elements. The concepts are not as difficult as intricate,” Severus began.  As part of this new strategy of teaching Harry Occlumency, he would explain some of the more difficult concepts.  Severus did not like this arrangement at all as it required him to spend even more time in the company of his least favourite pupil.  But what’s one more hour when the evening had already gone to waste?  With any luck, Harry will have a rudimentary understanding of Occlumency by the end of the year.  Not that he held much hope.

Time is short. You better start to learn, Potter, for your own sake if no one else’s.

“Grab a quill and parchment.  I will be speaking, and you will be taking notes. Listen carefully, Potter,” he warned. “Should, later on, you question me on a matter that I've already explained, I will be very displeased.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry muttered. He gets up from the chair and walks back to the middle of the room where his things still laid scattered on the floor. Hastily, the Gryffindor jammed everything back into his bag, all except a quill and a spare bit of parchment.  He sat back down and waited for Severus to continue.

Without further delay, the potions master began his lecture.

“The art of Occlumency requires three things; a disciplined mind, endurance, and above all, controlled emotions.  And that, Mr. Potter, is where you hit the proverbial brick wall. This is a difficult discipline that requires time, perseverance and patience,” Severus stressed, his tone chipped and sarcastic. “All of which you seem to lack.”

“Unlike potions, Occlumency is not exact science. There are no measurements in Occlumency, no numbers or calculations, no formulas or chemistry. And, unlike potions or even transfiguration, Occulmency is abstract, as opposed to other more concrete disciplines.  It all depends on how well you control your mind, your thoughts, your very being. And control, Potter, is one the very thing you seem to lack.  I cannot stress how important this fact is; emotional stability is the basis of Occlumency, before you can master your mind, you must overcome your emotions.  Master yourself, control your anger, discipline...are you listening to me Potter?” Severus snapped and banged his hand loudly on the desk.  If there ever was a time he needed Potter to listen, it was now!

Harry jumped in his chair and took his eyes away from the spot on the desk he had been staring at. “Yes, sir.”

“Why don’t I see any notes, Mr. Potter?”

“Um...I just...”

“Did not believe anything I’ve said is worth noting?” Severus pinned Harry with a look, daring him to contradict.

Harry wavered under the potion master’s intense glare. “No, sir,” he answered.

“I’ve just explained to you the basic definition of Occlumency and why you are so horrendous at it.  Do you not think that is important?  How do you suppose you will advance if you do not even know the definition of Occlumency?”

“I was listening,” Harry insisted. Okay, so he wasn’t paying that much attention, but all this was in the book anyway.

“And you suppose you can remember all this for the next week?  And the week after that?”

Harry huffed. “All you said was how Occlumency is all about control and stuff.”

“And stuff, Potter?” Severus copied, clearly insulted by Harry’s pish posh attitude towards such a fine art. How dare Potter refer to Occlumency as ‘stuff’!

“A Master Occulmence dominates his own emotions and mind to a capacity you are unlikely to achieve.  But the need for emotional control is essential no matter what level your discipline. Must I spell it out for you, Potter?  Everything about Occlumency is about the mind.  You will go nowhere without first...”

 “I know, I know. Control my emotions, master myself, discipline my mind.”

“Then why do you not do it?”

“I know, okay!  I just...”

“You have no clue just how little you know, I will not stand for your cocky attitude. You have much to learn.”

“I am not cocky!”

“Enough, I do not have time for this chatter.  Put that quill of yours to use, Potter.  When I told you to take notes, I meant for you to make them through. You should be hanging on my every word, not staring at the desk like a fool!”

Severus spent the next forty minutes demonstrating his utter grasp of the discipline to Harry, showing him where he needed improvement and answered any questions with miraculous tolerance.  It seems that he has took Dumbledore's words to heart, albeit reluctantly.

“You will to continue with chapter four, begin and complete chapter five for next week,” Severus instructed authoritatively. “I am also assigning you two twelve inch essays.” Harry barely managed to suppress his groan. “The first should discuss the importance of a disciplined mind in Occlumency, as well as the necessity of control over your subconscious. The second will be on ways to achieve this control and authority over your emotions. I want them on my desk at exactly seven o'clock, Monday evening, not a minute later, Potter.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered as he put away his lengthy and detailed albeit messy notes.

“Good.  Additionally, starting tonight, you will document your meditation,” Severus ordered and Harry couldn't help but grumble this time.

“Do not ever whine in my presence, Potter!” Severus snapped; he detested whining. “This is for your own good.  It does not need to be long, only a short paragraph.  Record your meditation process and what you are able to achieve. Describe your method and the level of calm and peace you are able to achieve. It need not be formal, simply right down what you feel. Do not forget; rid yourself of every emotion before you sleep!”

Harry nodded.

“Your performance next week will depend greatly on whether you have practiced, studied and understood the work. If you actually listened and recorded adequate notes, study the material and have written two respectable essays, then I should be able to see an improvement next week.” Severus looked at Harry to see if he was taking any of this in. Surprisingly, he found Harry looking back at him so he continued. “I expect to see an improvement, Mr. Potter.  Is that clear?”

“Yes sir.”

Severus nodded curtly. “If you absolutely must ask questions, see me after class and we shall make an appointment according to my schedule. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Harry answered listlessly.

And let you ridicule me and take points, no thanks.