The boy was five years old. He was wet and cold, not the best combination of things to be out there for a mere child. His feet were frozen... and literally. He had been standing outside in the bellow zero temperature for what seemed to be forever. With a shovel that was at least a foot or so taller than he was, Harry Potter stood in the middle of his aunt's and uncle's driveway trying with the no energy he had left just to banish the snow that kept accumulating on top of what he had already shoveled.

 The snow was falling more heavier then it had been that afternoon, and the white sky above him was churning into an inky blue. This made everything worst for his sight.  There Harry stood whimpering from the icy wind chills that were effortlessly soaking through his holey sweater. The driveway was nowhere near done because the terrible snow kept falling down on it and on the little boy with no mercy.

What a wonder why that Harry could no longer feel his limbs. Dudley's old pair of sneakers were  much too big on his smaller feet. They had a nasty habit of getting sucked into the snow every time he took a wrong step as well. This was due to how his shoes were not made for the snow, which was why his socks had been completely soaked for the past six hours. His stubby hands were starch white from the freezing temperature for he had no gloves on at all. His old pair had ripped when he was throttled to the ground by his whale of a cousin during the last snow storm. Of course, Harry wasn't given another pair after that incident and this was probably the direct cause of to why his hands were numb and his fingers were tinted a blue hue.

Suddenly there was a magnificent glow that spilled out of the front door of his relatives house like a glass of lemonade on a white surface. The light was uncalled for, but it was welcoming. However, the five year old could still not be so sure of the intentions of the man who had released it. His Elephant sized, displeased uncle was standing in the doorway and blocking little Harry's entrance into the warmth that the house provided.

"And just where do you think you are going, boy!?", thundered the hefty man as Harry scampered up to the front door step.

Still holding onto the massive sized shovel, the child crossed his legs shyly and averted his eyes downward at his soaked sneakers. He was very much fearful of what might happen to him if he looked up at his flabby faced uncle, but he had to at least try.

After all, his own survival depended on it.

"Please sir", began the quiet voice, "I-I'm really cold. May I come inside t-till the s-storm passes? Even for a f-few minutes?"

The enormous man was literally sputtering in amusement, "You want to come inside, boy?"

The man's big belly jiggled as he let out an enormous chuckle undoubtly succeeding in making the little boy blush in shame for wanting such things.

The man turned his head around on his stubby fat neck and called into his house with such astounding news.

"Do you hear that, Petunia dear? The freak wants to come inside."

And so with the rest of the boy's "family" being alerted, Harry watched in embarrassment as his aunt and cousin came up behind the grotesquely huge man to sneer down dispassionately at him. Overfed and spoiled Dudley Dursley peered around the bunch, spotted Harry and made an ugly face at seeing him. The child then watched as his cousin trotted away into the living room to go play with the new toys received from Christmas in front of the fireplace.

Angry voices then smacked the deprived boy out of his childhood wishes and tears sprang into his eyes before his Uncle muttered another word. Seeing his cousin so content with a family was heart breaking enough to know he would never have one that loved him as their own.

"He didn't finish shoveling the driveway, did he Vernon?", spat out the horsey face women.

"Of course not", huskily replied the portly man to his shrilly wife, "The freak can't do anything right. Can ya, you freakish boy?"

A big, fat, hand then roughly shoved Harry backwards with hate. More tears welled up in the five year old's eyes as he retreated away from the abuse.

"I'm sorry!", cried the child, and for being a child, there was not much left to do other than plead for forgiveness. Children lived to please after all, but Harry could never please such people who hated him with a passion. Forgiveness was the only option left for him now because even if in vain, it was all that he knew how to do.

Pools of green swirled with desperation and begged for protection from the cold outdoors

"Being sorry will not do you any good, you worthless animal!", spat the man with distaste.

Behind Harry's fogging up glasses, his eyes grew wider as he watched his uncle's face contort from continuous rage. Trying to blink back the tears that were surly going to freeze over if they so happened to stream down his cheeks, Harry Potter slowly backed away from his uncle.

Too late, however...

"In fact...", pondered Uncle Vernon with maliciousness glinting wildly from within his demonic expression, "Maybe there ought to be a severe punishment for disobeying my orders and for asking me to allow your filth inside my household!"

Harry backed down, shocked, and was completely off of the front porch feeling more and more alarmed.

"I'm...", he started, horrified to find that his uncle had proceeded to take a few steps towards him as he stammered.

"Please uncle, I'll be a good!", little Harry insisted.

The child watched his uncle's fatty face flush alarmingly into a shade of boiling red. Being only five, Harry new better what it meant when his aunt disappears from the scene: extreme punishment...

"I promise!", exclaimed the child, feverishly pleading until his throat gave up on him, "I'll be good! I'll be a good boy! Please... don't!"

The primitive fear that was literally pouring out of his facial expressions was also imploring for him to escape. Unfortunately Harry felt himself immobilized within the thick sheets of snow in a matter of seconds. With a smile gone completely awry, uncle Vernon's face lit up with sick pleasure as he removed the posh made leather belt from his girth.

"You dirty little dog, you should be licking my boots clean of your filthy freakishness instead of pleading for mercy...",declared the deranged man as he licked his dry lips repeatedly until they were moisten with hunger and craving for the absurd, "...which you don't deserve, Potter!"

The monster had enclosed in on the smaller being with his belt in hand and dangling in front of the child like a rattler. Collapsing into tears, the small boy watched every movement coming at him as if in slow motion. Yet the blows that came down had been quick, hard, and painful.

There was a blow, a brute smack to the head that given Harry the ability to feel tears spill down his cheeks the moment that such cruelty was delivered.

Harry hadn't been sure if it was the hand swat or fear that had knocked him into the snow. The child cried as such abhorrence took over his instincts, he was burrowing himself deep into the snow hoping that somehow the blows would not land on his poorly protected back.

Like all children, the boy just wanted to be rescued, saved, and held but to no avail did any help come to save him.

His uncle had already snatched up a clump of his hair and from the grip had yanked the small child up onto his feet.

If only tears could hide the misery that was about to be branded on his torso, if only his eyes hadn't been so blurred, if only his chest hadn't been hurting from the pent up screams that were dieing to be released.

"I'll be good, please don't use it. Please don't use it on me!"

However the taunting smile on his Uncle's face could not be swept away, it only grew sicker in grotesque amusement. Fist as round as meatballs, ones that would normally would be plummeting into Harry's body were gripping so tightly onto the edge of the belt.

It was too late. The other end of the belt, the one that was reserved especially for the child, stuck hard into Harry's side and stung him more than the cold did. What a terrible shame it was that the frigid air had not yet numbed Harry's exposed back. Perhaps the agony would have been more tolerable for the five year old to handle if he had frost bite on other parts of his body. How foolish he was for not planning that earlier on!

WHACK!

Harry's chest heaved painfully belt leather landed, his throat went hoarse, "No!! Please stop!!! please stop...I'm a good boy...I'll be good! No please-Uncle..."

But the large man kept laughing, a sickening laugh that showed that he was enjoying it.

"Shut your worthless mouth, Freak."

 Harry bit his lip, knowing that he should stop his pleading when he knew it was lost cause to. After all, if he dared to scream or cry for help, his Uncle would only make his punishments worse. The taste of metal that had tainted his tongue pledged silence. His Uncle had actually paused for a moment to press his lips into Harry's ear, his breath leaking of vodka as he whispered words that were only meant to destroy.

"Good- for -nothing brat."

TWACK! Went the belt against soft skin.

Harry winced, his eyes dulled over in defeat. Nobody was coming to save him. Nobody ever did..."Lazy....insufferable...." Apparently it hadn't been convincing yet. CRACK! Even in the dark, the child could see spurts of the red hell tainting the pure white earth bellow him.

"Should have gotten yourself blown up with those other freaks. But I dare say they wouldn't be happy dwindling with you if you perished, boy! " And so, with all that his Uncle could muster up, the leather belt was brutally lashed across Harry's torso.

WHACK!

How odd was it that the splattering of red didn't really matter anymore to the five year old as he was flung violently into the polluted whiteness and kicked in the stomach.  The small quivering body had rolled onto the icy pavement of the half shoveled driveway and stilled. Everything was getting darker now, and Harry wasn't quiet sure if his pride or his body had been killing him more.

The absurd thing was that he really didn't care if he died of frost bite, from ammonia, or from the bleeding slash marks that were branded across his back. He didn't care that his tears had frozen on his cheek bones either as he silently cried into the ice. He didn't care if he ever felt warmth again because the truth had stung greater than the belt which had harmed Harry the most.

Nobody was coming. Nobody cared....

.......................

Well...somebody did because he was being forced to leave the small, broken body behind but dare say did he want to, that child was part of him!

It took him two minutes to discover that he was no longer that boy laying in the bloody snow. In another two minutes, Harry felt a hand squeezing his shoulder, coaxing him out of the nightmare that held him prisoner of his own mind. A flush of warmth surrounded his body with ease moments after. There was also a sweet smell of cloves that filled his nostrils and made Harry sense the familiarity.

After determining that this form that Harry felt had triggered what was behind such doors in his mind to be released, he attempted to settle. Unfortunately, before Harry knew it he was swimming in the pictures of his life. There was a smashing sound of broken glass echoing in the darkest corners of his mind but he could not recall them until he saw those eyes, dark yet concerned ones that were shimmering in shock even as they pulled Harry out of the tunnel that harmed him. The onyx eyes were saving him. And a voice was hushing him, calming him, but why?

Harry Potter shot up from his bed, heaving as if he had been drowning. He squinted up at the light coming from the lamp on his night table and tried to make sense of it. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to make an adjustment to the lamp's light which was shining in his eyes, but to his dismay received a terrible head ache instead. Not that he really cared for it now because every other body part of his was hurting in too many ways. His chest was still sore and gasping for air that had been denied to him. Unfortunately receiving it alone did not cease the pain.

What was wrong with him? It just seemed that no matter how hard he tried to regulate his erratic breathing the more started to come back. Realization was dawning upon his blank mind fast and hard. He was Harry...Harry James Potter, boy who lived, had murdered parents, and a dark wizard who was still trying to kill him. He had also been sitting in the infirmary for...wow... the past week due to a serious head injury, although he still couldn't remember how he got it...

All he knew was this: he had done something terribly wrong to someone. Most importantly he deserved the suffering for committing the unknown misdemeanors. He knew that every night since the mysterious incident he had been hurting from it, he was sure he would relive his tormented life all over again and then forget about it all in the morning. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Could it get any worse?

Oh boy, can it!

The teen didn't bother to suppress another moan as the memories swarmed around him and penetrated his scull with such greed that it was disgusting. They wanted to get in and stay inside his head where they belonged. Harry wanted them to stay too and be his; it was the only thing he had the right to claim his own. But most of them were so awful like...staring into Voldemort's red snake eyes in his fourth year for example. That hadn't been pleasurable. Or how about his Uncle's Vernon's distorted face after the zoo incident? That was another. Surly, the list could go on. However, the memory of meeting Ron and Hermione had been one of the few good ones and meeting Ginny as well was another. The chamber of secrets was bad, and so were the Dementors, but the ones of Sirius and Remus were all good.

Then there came his classes, he remembered them: Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Care of Magical Creatures, and ....

Harry paused, feeling that his heart was literally plummeting into the uncharted depths of his lower intestines.

 And...

Then everything clicked as if a light bulb had finally turned on in his head.

Potions!

Deciding that realization couldn't have been anymore brutal, Harry glanced down and found to his uttermost horror that an arm, one that was clocked in black fabric was firmly wrapped around his bicep and holding him steady.

Holding him.

Then there was a low, yet soothing vibration coming from the voice of the familiar form.
 
"Easy", it hushed awkwardly to Harry, "Your alright now.... Your safe."

He felt a warm presence being pressed against his backside as well, a chest was rising as it was falling in a steady, rhythmic beat so... soothingly. The form was familiar, and it had been the same form that he felt thriving within the memory before. It had saved him from his mind, the form. At this Harry had slowly inched up his head and tilted it in a way that he could see very clearly into the distressful eyes of one uncomfortable Severus Snape.

Snape. Evil Potions Master and hater of everything Potter...

...was holding him.

"P-Professor?", murmured Harry for no other reason just to see if it was really Snape, the man who hated him beyond imaginable.

Very uneasy, obsidian black eyes were then studying Harry sceptically and if Snape hadn't been Snape, Harry could have sworn that for a second the man's expression had flashed into one of full of sympathy. Snape? And sympathize? HA! The day that Harry kisses Voldemort's arse will be the day that Snape is labeled as someone who is...does he dare say it? Concerned!

 And for him? Harry? Now that was a laughable statement! Monstrously hysterical to the point that it was nauseating. And indeed was it nauseating...

The Potions Master gave an awkward nod of the head before turning away from Harry. Perhaps Harry wasn't the only one who was lost for words either. Bright green eyes were shining into black ones in comprehension and in abhorrence all at the same time. Both of them were shocked senseless, Harry for finding himself wrapped in his most hated professor's arms and Snape for obviously being uncomfortable with the fact that Harry was really Harry this time.

The Potions Master had dropped his arms at once, releasing the overwhelmed teenager who pushed away from his form as soon as he was given the chance. Snape's face had completely stilled and remained unreadable to Harry which he found as a good thing.

'Its better off that he hates me...' thought Harry bitterly to himself, 'or at least, he should still look the part...he couldn't have seen everything...'

The boy didn't want to chance that the man might actually be hinting the opposite and that Snape's penetrating eyes seemed too unreal to actually belong to the evil Potions Master that lived in the dungeons. At that moment, Harry would rather have that blood sucking bat hold resentment towards him rather than looking at Harry with...well..with whatever that alien emotion was...

To make his point, Harry scooted as far away as possible from his most loathed professor until he was sitting on the opposite edge of the bed. He wouldn't dare look at Snape's face again...and not when it looked so 'UnSnapeish'. On the other hand, Harry couldn't possibly bare to see another face, the one that he wanted from Snape so that everything stayed the same and unchanging. Harry just didn't want to see another person looking down at him with much loathing and disgust. As childish as it sounded, Harry didn't want Snape to be Uncle Vernon all over again.

With that raw memory still haunting his mind, Harry hung his head dully between his knees trying with all his might to make sense of things with the little time he had left. His stomach was doing somersaults in ways that were far from pleasurable. After billions of questions came to taunt him about Snape, Harry had to wonder what had possibly happened to make the man look at Harry like he had two heads.

'Why is he here?' Inwardly demanded the furious teen.
'Why is he watching me and looking at me like that? He doesn't give a damn about me so why is he here?'

Harry brought a hand to his head to swipe away the sweat that was drenching him. 'Did he see that memory? What else does he know?'

'Merlin'. Harry squeezed his eyes tightly together as more damn memories of the past week came back all at once and hit him hard. 'Snape....'

Not only had Harry lost all his memories, but he completely lost his entire identity. He didn't know he was a wizard nor did he know he was Harry! What was making his stomach churn more was how he had acted like a lunatic in front of everybody and in front of Snape of all people! But It had been Snape though who had made the most contact with him, he had trusted him without knowing who he was, and he had remembered only his name when he couldn't remember the most obvious thing about the man; his treachery.

Then again, It had been Snape that had tried to calm Harry...and had succeeded. It had been Snape who had made him feel safe when he felt vulnerable, and it had been Snape who had acted out to protect him when he had pleaded for it from the man.

Harry's face then paled in mortification as violent coughs claimed him.

'Sweet Merlin! For crying out loud!' screamed the boy's brain as he recalled the many events from before....He had grabbed onto the man's robes and hid behind them in fear that his own godfather was going to attack him! Guilt was a very common feeling that the teen was experiencing more and more as the thoughts kept hitting him. Sirius had been furious at Snape as well which was making Harry curious. He was also able to remember how the two had fought and how his godfather started to accuse Snape for whatever happened to Harry. He remembered that he had been terrified when Sirius tried to touch him and how the only person that was able to get anywhere near him was, indeed, Snape.

Snape. Snape. Snape. the evil Potions Master who loathed him above anyone else! Harry had sought for help from him, from Snape! Just how was it even possible?

The boy couldn't get over it... and neither could his stomach.

Just as the terrible coughing left the residence of his bruising lungs, so did the vomit that was being restrained by his stomach. Unfortunately Harry could not cease his coughing fit even as he spilled all of the contents that were inside his body onto the tiles. In seconds Bile decorated the granite floor that he was staring mindlessly down at. The fluid that was dripping off his chin must of added much to the flamboyant picture that Harry was certain the Professor was taking in quite well.

How Snape was going to react to him now was bothering the teen, the man hadn't said much to Harry yet. Foot steps then approached the side of the cot and then stopped. From the boy's perspective he could only see his vomit, two polished black shoes, and a bellowing robe standing in front of the mess. A wand was withdrawn from the man's pocket and with two even swipes the throw-up had vanished. Then to Harry's surprise, a small handkerchief was dangled out in front of his view.

The boy took it reluctantly, and as he dabbed his mouth clean there was only one thing left on his mind; Why was he here? What did he do? and why the hell couldn't remember it? Once again, Harry was left to thrive in his own vulnerability.

"I'm sorry..." , he said not knowing for why he wanted to apologize but felt the need in doing it anyway. There was silence, the boy could imagine Snape's face now; skewed, and distorted with sneers. He could almost hear what the scathing remarks would be, "Stop your wallowing Potter!" or "fifty points from Gryffindor for your inability to control yourself properly, Potter"... But the harsh comments never came. Instead they were quite... civil.

"There is no need to apologize, Potter, your response was nether the less typical of any individual undergoing such stressful circumstances", said the cool voice without the deadly spark of malice that was normally there.

"Regurgitating, after all, is a merely predictable reaction of the body after such a traumatic situation arises. There is no reason to be ashamed of yourself seeing that there is no doubt, much to recall and take in at this moment as well."

The boy was shocked senseless. Since when has Snape ever not scolded him for losing control of himself? Well, bloody hell with that! Since when had the man ever shown him any decerom at all to begin with?!

Still entranced with the fine granite floors of the infirmary room, Harry could only wonder further what events had transpired during the past week to actually alter this man to the point that he was talking civilly with him. Before the incident, Snape never showed him any form of tolerance. He was constantly reprimanded, sneered down at, and probably would have been spat on if he got under the man's skin just enough. So then why did it all change? Harry very well had his own suspicions....and yet he just had to ask...

"How much did you see?"

 Gathering up all the Gryffindor courage that was possible, Harry then glanced up at his Potions Professor prepared to hear the worse. What he found however was not what he expected to find at all. It appeared that Snape, who Harry first presumed would be glaring daggers at him, was not even looking his way but, instead, looking elsewhere in the room.

The aloof expression on the man's face had churned into one full of darkness, something commencing. Then all of a sudden everything about it had changed. Harry, too stunned to do anything more, watched as his Professor's features grimaced and his black eyes widen painfully. Then Snape stilled, and as if a shield was put back in place, the man became stone stricken all except for those eyes, ones which Harry could no longer pretend to not notice as they gleamed with enmity. Although he looked rather, and if it was a word to describe the Potions Master, "sorry" about it, he finally broke the silence.

"Enough", gruffly replied Snape as the oily black curtains hid his face entirely from Harry. After a moments of silence, he averted his haunted eyes back down at the boy again, who in return, drawn his own away.

"How much do you remember?", interrogated the Potions Master obviously having no intention in letting that blasted memory he saw drop. Snape's scrutinizing gaze did not falter as Harry shifted uneasily from beneath it.

Harry paled several shades whiter as he dreaded to recall every event that was hitting him faster and harder than any spell every did. Between the memory he experience only moments before about his uncle and then those of Snape, Snape and him in the infirmary and what not.... he just couldn't bring himself to speak of them. And why should he? Why should he ever trust an adult when all they are ever good for is failing him, rejecting him, betraying him, and the worst of them all... using him.

And Snape hated him, shouldn't that be enough to draw the line of trusting an adult? So then why in all things Merlin would Harry entrust his secrets, memories, personal life, everything that made him "him" with Snape of all people? The man was the LAST person next to Voldamort who he would ever want knowing about his home situation. Yet here the bat was, standing only inches away from Harry wanting to know more.

And Harry's heart would tumble if he was ever to know that the said Potions Master, the one who loathed him, internally wanted more than just to know but to also understand. Perhaps with the addition of, as absurd as it was, to be more to Harry Potter in whatever ways possible. However, the boy had not received the chance to learn of such inane tendencies of his most abysmal, afflicted Professor. Instead, he could only defy and put up a shield of his own just as Snape had done. Expressionless as the Professor, Harry became the same.   It was as if he been looking into a mirror and only then did the boy want to smash it into bits.

"Enough", retorted Harry automatically. Snape, of course, was anything but pleased, especially at the boy's unyielding behavior and pure stubbornness.

Snape rose a sardonic eyebrow at the inept response as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was waiting...but not for long though.

"Would you care to elaborate about this alluring return of memory, Mr Potter? Obviously your response is lacking some vital information. I demand at once that you start explaining to me in detail what you remember. "

"No.", Harry retorted, with much defiance there.

"No way Snape. No way."
'Let him try' thought Harry bitterly 'because he won't get very far.'

Unfortunately for Harry though and maybe for Snape as well, the man's acute remark had bitten right into the boy's temper much too soon. The Potions Master, taken a back for a moment, proceeded on the urge to tare the boy apart.

"Come again, Potter? I wouldn't try my patients if I was you.", sneered the Potions Master vindictively.

Harry cautiously watched a very taunting Snape fold his arms across his chest more than ready to swoop down on Harry at any moment with insults. The boy flushed, sizzling in his up roaring rage. After witnessing just exactly how swiftly Severus Snape was able go from acting like a normal, civil being then back to the greasy git he was notoriously known as, Harry felt like an idiot.  How could he think for even a second that this man dressed in black,who took great pride in criticizing and bleating on Harry at every given opportunity, was in some sense different than he had been for the past five years?!

"You heard me", growled Harry hotly as he leaped off the cot and stormed up to the Professor, "I said I'm not telling you anything."

His head titled up at Snape more than he would have wanted.  It was no help at all that Snape still had a good seven of so inches on him and had the ability to make him feel at least three feet shorter than just. Despite the height difference though, Harry was fuming and his face showed just how beet red it can become, how very livid he could appear.

 "How' bout you care to elaborate on why you were in my head to begin with, Professor?"

 There was a heavy silence that lingered between the two before Snape turned towards the boy, his face gave nothing away as it hardened tremendously. Only moments afterwards, all of the loathing and hatred that Harry was so use to seeing from the man had finally resurfaced. Snape, the bastard that he was, was glaring daggers just as he always had done before whenever Harry showed him such deserved cheek. If looks could kill, the Potions Master would have annihilated him to ashes with nothing left but bones. 

'There'. reassured Harry rather sickly to himself, 'that's much better.'

Then suddenly the familiar look of cruelty that Snape displayed so well, had turned into something foreign, something that Harry did not expect. Surely he thought that the unforgiving Potions Master, unemotional and apathetic Slyterin Head of House was about to brandish him, Harry, for such disrespect. However, what stunned the boy in that particular moment was when his Professor begrudgingly swallowed all intentions of a sneer and effectively vanished the precise rage that he held so naturally on his face. It was like that of flame being extinguished the moment it started.

"My reasoning for entering your mind was for your own benefit." offered Snape finally, rather too calmly for his student to handle.

After five years of Potions with Snape, one could only know all the tricks the man could pull up his sleeve. Harry was prepared for all the insults and personal attacks that Snape was sure to throw at him next. Already he had an ill tempered counter responses forming on his tongue, but what the Professor had said startled him. He never expected this of all things to occur. Never before did the man hold himself back for anything or anyone, Harry being no exception to that rule.

Snape uncrossed his arms from his chest in defeat, a heavy full blown sigh followed had followed through on his words. "You were becoming hysterical, Potter, and if I had not intervened any sooner you would have done great harm to yourself.", said this stranger smoothly. And then...

"You should be thankful." But there was no mockery or taunting in those words that could possibly provoke the youth any further.

Somehow though, it had. Harry should be thankful? For what? How dare he? After receiving five years of torture from the man, there was no way that he would or could show any type gratitude towards the greasy git. Harry cringed away from the thought of how Snape, perhaps, had manage to save his life again. Of course, Snape was just doing his job, being forced into saving his life countless times. Although willingly? Harry could never believe he would.

Then all of a sudden, a raw feeling, a twang of something else had made him wonder if it was possible to believe in the contrary. Involuntarily, Harry's eyes wearily tracked the Professor's every movement. Of course, all changes in position and posture were kept at a minimal.  Snape never gave himself away and part of Harry wished that he too could do the same. This would come in handy, especially now while he was practically wiggling in place while the man continued to linger above him like an overgrown bat he very much resembled.

"I will advise you again and for the good of your health to recall to me as much as you can. Such information is quite vital in healing your mind. You are very ill, Potter, and stubborn as you are, accepting this situation is key.", steadily pronounced Snape, seeming to struggle much with his accustomed rigidness.

Naturally, Harry no longer wanted to take the time to notice just how frail the harshness was becoming in the Professor. Blatantly deciding against the man's proclaimed intentions towards him that he discarded so hastily,  Harry shoved past Snape and marched over to the exit with his own intentions in mind: he was leaving and that was final. His hands which were saturated in sweat, slipped on the doorknob that Harry failed to clutch. A third attempt was the charm as he regained his grip nob. Then the boy proceeded in twisting the cool metal in a fashion parallel to what his guts have been doing since he awoken in the arms of his worst enemy.

Just great!' coursed through Harry's accusing thoughts as the door resisted the knob, 'locked!'  What was ridiculously upsetting was that Harry would have laughed out loud if it had all been a cruel joke, that really he wasn't stuck in a room with the worst person on the planet. Unfortunately, reality bit him hard in the arse that this was no prank and that the only thing left to reassure Harry he wasn't going mental was to remember how Snapes still a complete git.

"Let me out.", tried Harry quietly at first. There was defiantly going to be an explosion of antics soon if Snape dared to deny his freedoms any longer.

Harry watched carefully as the statue form of the Potions Master shook it's head and frowned down at him piteously. Harry shuddered at how the contemplating gleam in the man's eyes had not yet faded from before. Why it was still there, confused him greatly and only increased his desire to depart.

"I'm afraid that I can not do that.", said Snape, monotoned as ever but differently. It was more like the cold trickling ice which smothered his harsh exterior began to slowly melt away. Such unfamiliarities in Snape were scaring the daylights out of Harry, it was a newness in the man which was proving by the minute too much for Harry to handle let alone accept. It was only a matter of time until the very remotely wild green eyes showed through Harry's face as he spun around in a frenzy towards his only route of escape.

Fine. If Snape wasn't going to let him out then he was going to blast a bloody hole through the door and let himself out.

With such ideals in mind, Harry slunk his hand into his pockets for his wand but found nothing. The boy looked affronted, he hadn't thought much about the fact that he was dressed down in infirmary gown and not his robes. But still, his wand should be on him or at least by his bedside, where was it?

"Confiscated, Potter.", came the cool reply that answered the unspoken question, "And for further notice you will not be getting your wand back any time soon until I see you fit to wield it properly. Now come, we have much to discuss."

'What?' Harry eyed the Professor strangely, 'How did he...?'....

"I rather be dead than discuss anything with you, especially my personal life which is none of your business! Stay out of my head!!", roared the teen as he lunged his body against the door and willed it to break to pieces.

 "And let me out now! I don't need to be here, I don't want be anywhere near here, near you, I. Hate. You. Let me out!!", wailed Harry as panic struck him hard. He needed to get out and go somewhere, anywhere but here, with anyone but Snape.

Snape obviously meant business. "Step away from the door right this instant.", dangerously emitted the man.

Although, he could have been stuck with anyone else really, yet it just had to be Snape. His desire to be away from the man was so intense that he'd rather be locked in a room with Voldemort for a week then be in close counters with the ruthless Potions Master for a single minute!

"I want out, Snape!", cried Harry fighting tears while also battling the childish urge to stamp his foot in frustration.

"No.", smoothly replied the Potions Master, "You are not going anywhere."

"Lemme out now! You don't understand...I have to get out of here..I have to go."

 Harry repetitively told himself to calm down as he spun around towards the man.  Snape in return, flickered the boy a bored eye. His core, of course, remained calloused and unyielding all the same. The man scuffed at the boy none the less.

"What part of the word 'No' do you not understand, Potter?", Snape sarcastically asked the boy, who looked more than ready to jump out a window. Then all of a sudden the renewed curiosity in those oynx eyes, that ambitious gleam spared Harry nothing. Harry wanted it gone because he knew it couldn't be real, and that there was noway it could exist in someone who held so much hate for him.

The boy was practically screaming like a banshee at this point. "I don't care! Let me out! Let me out now you STUPID, OVERGROWN, CRAZY, GREASY BA-!!"

Then suddenly a sharp, ice splintering chuckle erupted out of Snape, silencing the raving Harry in the process.

 "Honestly Potter, hush. I've had more than enough with your childish whims. Now, now is that really anyway to talk to me while you are in my care?", chided Snape smoothly as a thin eyebrow made it's way to the top of his forehead. Harry remained silent as he failed to miserably to regain his voice until Snape overrode his poor attempt to.

"Hmm. Well then I see that even with the return of memories you remain just as callow as you were without them." At this Snape tsked and tutted for quite some time before Harry could effectively swallow the lump in his throat and found out then that he could not form a single response.

Snape readily took advantage of the moment as he smirked cynically downwards at his ward.  "What's the matter, Potter?  Bat got your tongue?", mocked the man lightly, while throwing the boy's insult right back at him as Harry's cheeks inflamed.

"And I thought you were far too old to be trowing such tantrums over something so petty, it appears though that I was mistaken.", chided Snape again as Harry helplessly leaned against the unmoving door in a heap of sweat. Just as predicted Snape continued to ridicule him senslessly.

 "Tell me, Potter, shall I treat you as although you are five and not fifteen, or do you care to excuse your unruly behavior?"

Seething in humiliation and anger, Harry remained silent.

 "No?" asked Snape tediously, "Very well then if you have nothing to say to justify for such juvenile behavior, get away from that door and come over to me at once."

Harry proceeded to ignore Snape, by turning his head to the side. However it was not until he flushed a crimson red before he retorted with a firm resounding,"Never"

Snape was growing frustrated , "Come again, Potter? I believe that I just made up your mind for you since you proved to me unable."

To make matters worse Snape kept pushing for more, persisting that he had control until Harry was so sure he wouldn't be able to take anymore of his teacher's wrath. Then as if it came to him out of the blue, a comment so worthy of a Slyterin's mouth had flown right out of the Gyfindor.  Harry smirked dauntlessly at his professor, not caring about the outcome. He had nothing to lose now.

"Sorry sir, but I believe I said no. Well I say Professor, I didn't know that there was a part of the word "no" that you didn't understand nor that---"

Then it hit him as Snape uncrossed his arms and proceeded to take alarming steps towards Harry.  Mortification then swept over him like a brush fire as Snape, evil Potions Master lifted up a reprimanding finger and waved it side to side.

"Finish that statement, and you'll be one sorry little boy.", came the warning.  

 Harry could not believe how berating the threat sounded. Did Snape just call him...a sorry little what? He froze in place, shocked at how completely absurd such a threat, one that is usually reserved for a child before receiving a punishment, sounded coming from the grueling wizard. Snape, on the other hand, was more intrigued with how he recieved such provoked reaction of ignominy from the youth. Feeling at a lost, Harry's frail body throbbed feebly against the door.

"Mark my words, Potter, for you are in no position to be giving me cheek nor demanding anything-", a comical smirk replaced the sneer momentarily, "...From me. Is that understood?"

Not feeling obligated in giving Snape much pleasure from tormenting him, Harry remained silent and gave his professor the most dirtiest look he could bare. On top of everything, the man's expression had undergone another swift transformation. First it was concern, sympathy, then amusement, then chiding, and then it penetrated everything within Harry and it didn't stop. This time Snape ventured closer to the boy as his deadly black eyes danced feverishly within the obsidian spark.

"Disrespect me again, Potter, and you will be wishing that your mind was an empty nutshell more so than it all ready is after I'm done with you. I will not tolerate such appalling behavior and you will answer me when I ask you a question. The rules are clear, and if you do not obey them, then you will surly suffer the consequences. Now do you comprehend?"

A hate too strong that Harry held towards the greasy git festered on his insides as the impassive features on the bastard's face had changed yet again. Oddly, only seconds after Snape had tore through Harry like a ravenous creature he had withdrawn himself away as if he had suffered a burn. Harry imagined the man was confused when he approached carefully, step by tormenting step.

"No.", breathed Harry, panic swamped through his chest as Snape neared him. Out of all of the situations with Snape belittling him at every given chance, Harry had to pick this one as the worse of them all. No, It wasn't because Snape was humiliating him in front of his classmates, docking house points for no reason, nor sneering down at him with disdain. All of those horrid situations were tolerable for Harry. What wasn't, however, was the way Snape was looking at him so strangely, like as if he sprouted wings or multiple heads. In some absurd way, Snape appeared dazzled, amazed, and awestruck just as much as he and it wasn't right.

 Harry felt the need to wake the man out of such a trance. "I said I'm fine, sir. Please, let me go." The panic had not yet ceased him but Snape seemed to note this and how desperate Harry appeared.

Snape's voice continued on, trying as it must to convince the boy otherwise, "I can not allow you to leave, Potter." it said all too soothingly. Then there was anger, lividness almost..

 "And you are certainly not fine! Your cooperation here is essential, I do implore you to settle down and come over here at once, young man, or else I will make you."

"Clear off!", boomed Harry.

Needing to escape the tyrant, the boy had turned away and slammed his fist into the door again to establish the intensity of his desire. Snape, was certainly not going to fulfill these whims as he eyed his young ward disapprovingly. Harry, none the less, ignored this and continued to thrust himself up against the door. All he knew was that Snape was going to torture him with all he knew about that horrible memory and there wasn't anything that  he could do to stop him!

"Potter, Stop this foolishness immediately. You are not getting out. This room is heavily warded off and that door has at least twenty different charms to hold it in place. Kicking and screaming will do nothing, insufferable child.", growled the Potions Master harshly.

But Harry was done taking orders and pondering about that calculating, damn gleam in the Professor's eyes. He hated wondering, he hated hoping that the gleam in the other's eyes could actually mean more than just a damn gleam.

"I am not a child!", Harry snaped through clenched teeth as he threw his body against the door, "I've been on my own since my parents been murdered, since my aunt and uncle rejected me-"

He then launched himself again at his only escape route, as if all the pain of his worst memories would vanish as soon he broke through.  Still, he had not caused even the slightest budge from the blasted door! He could not prevent how pain stricken he sounded,  "--AS YOU VERY DAMN WELL JUST SAW!"

He also hated when that side of him was exposed....

Snape was taken a back for a split second before staring at the boy speechlessly. His form swayed every so slightly.

"Potter. Come here.", said the Professor again regaining his voice, his tone noticeably softer than it had been before.

Harry would have questioned the Professor 'why in merlin's name' he would if he wasn't so set on going back to Gryffindor tower where he could see Ron and Hermione again. Oh how he missed that lot. There, he would have loved to go on a Snape bashing spree with the Gyrffindors. He would have killed to see Ginny, Neville, Luna, the twins and the rest of the DA especially. He missed Hedwig and felt a twang of regret that probably the next time he gets sees her ( if there will be one) he wouldn't remember his dear familiar. Bleeding hell, he wouldn't remember any of them at all! Being home sick was merely an understatement of what he was feeling at the moment.

"If you do not come here, I shall retrieve you myself."

And most importantly, he wanted to write Sirius to apologize for what happened in the infirmary. Recalling how crushed his godfather was seeing him cling onto Snape like some mental case must have given the man heart failure. Nervousness flooded through Harry as he thought about Sirius and if he would ever forgive him.

Inwardly and outwardly brooding, Harry turned away from Snape and continued to throw his skinny torso up against the door, bruising his body in the process of it all.

 Snape's temper had once again gotten the best of him as he bristled in rage. "Very well, Potter, so be it!"

The teen had no intentions of letting all of those opportunities slip away from him either. He didn't even realize that his arms were bruising so easily nor did he take note of his fists, and how he continued to smash them open into the door until his knuckles were past the bleeding point. He didn't know that Snape could move so quickly either...

Suddenly there was a swift bellow of black robes that streaked across his vision, "Do you wish to smash up your hand?", chaffed the voice.

"Why? It's not like you care!", snapped Harry as he spun around.

Then green eyes widened enormously as they landed on the sizzling coal ones which were towering menacingly from above. Everything happened too quickly; A hand reached out, time sped up, and images flashed of an angry fist slamming into a body, one which already had so many miles already done to it. Wait... It was his body.

There wasn't any time left, he couldn't hide or escape the present danger... no time. Before Harry could react properly he had flinched away from the reaching limb, threw up his arms protectively in front of his face, and sank down to the floor defensively, vulnerable of attack.

 The hand, however, had no intentions on harming the child, nor did it know what to do after the boy had collapsed into a bundle other than retreat and cradle itself against the black robes of it's owner. Mortification swept over them both in the matter of two minutes. Snape 's astonished gaze traveled from the boy to his hand that Harry thought was a weapon. Then back again over to the boy, then again to his hand, perplexed with what had just occurred.

Coal had sparked as it met the emerald. Both could do nothing more than just stare at the other in silence. Snape's whole entire dark form stiffened tremendously as he struggled with the shield that he held in place so miserably, but his facial expression wavered just enough to stir an emotion in the other. Harry watched entranced with how the mysterious black orbs fell into themselves, blinked back in shock, and then shut themselves away.

Harry's own had redeemed themselves though, regrouping from the humiliation suffered. How could he lose himself like that? And in front of Snape of all people!   Harry couldn't stand the fact of how Snape's Slyterins were going to have a field day with such information about the infamous Harry Potter, beaten and abused by his reckless muggle Uncle. He could imagine what Snape was going to say from witnessing such embarrassing antics. Yet not one single lip of mockery dared to whip his pride raw and bleeding.

Instead the dark form, the one that Harry felt had held him more than just once, had knelt down besides him. It was a form that seemed hesitant in doing so but was approaching him non the less.

"Potter." said the deep, rumbling yet soothing voice of the form. 

Conflicted, and ashamed Harry found no need to protest any longer as two gentle hands situated themselves underneath his lowered chin and tilted it upward. Oddly they weren't as cold and clammy as one may think they would be, especially those belonging to a snarky Potions Professor who lived in the dungeons. In due time Harry was staring back into that same, uneasy expression of his Professor.

"Perhaps I have not made my intentions clear...", began the new Snape with a hint of discomfort wavering in his voice. Perhaps Harry wasn't the only one who felt like his world was going topsy turvy on him. Snape cleared his throat of the words that were getting lodged there.

 "I am not here to hurt you, and whether you accept the this statement or not, I am here to help you heal. "

Help? heal? And from Snape? Harry had to wonder if all three words could possibly coexist in the same sentence. Now that would be first. The gripping hand then released the smaller chin relieving Harry of the unexpected touch. In a micro second his gaze averted downwards wanting to avoid the man, but he could no longer control his curiosity that was forcing him to stare up transfixed with what his Professor had said.

"It is understood that you've had a long week indeed, Mr. Potter, I myself included." The man had proved this to Harry by placing a hand on the bridge of his nose as he exhaled slowly.

Interesting. Harry hadn't really thought much about what Snape and the rest of the staff had been through when he lost his memory. Dumbledore and Sirius had risked their necks coming out of hiding to go see him, Remus had been there as well, and with the ministry on a rampage it was baffling to why they were all there gathered at his bedside with so much to lose for the act of just being there. And Snape? Well, he couldn't have lost much sleep on the matter right? But the man had just admitted otherwise had he not? Not to mention, but he did look rather more drained than usual...but trusting him was another thing.

"This is not going to be easy for you, but being your Professor and now your mentor I must know what happened", The man dressed in black looked long and hard at Harry who sat bewildered by the new information; Snape was his mentor now? Harry wanted to question the absurdity of it all but did not get the chance, seeing how Snape had continued to dig deep.

"... and how many times...", The man's murderous eyes dilated, "Those treacherous muggles committed such a crime." Harry shifted uncomfortably in his vulnerable position knowing exactly what Snape was trying to get out of him.

"Not many at all, sir", came the utterly obvious lie.

Snape rose a disbelieving brow, "Is that so?"

The boy was becoming flustered now "Yes. Really!", insisted Harry but Snape wasn't taking his word at all. The man crossed his arms impatiently waiting for a more truthful answer. Harry tensed tremendously. There was no avoiding the situation now when it was thrown in his face as it was.

"Sir, listen. It happened so long ago and after that night, the punishments weren't nearly as severe. It's nothing really.", blurted out the boy without thinking.

As soon as the words left Harry's mouth his eyes went wide. At that moment he would have enjoyed kicking himself in the arse, as well. Snape was right, he really was a dunderhead.

The man was obviously crossed, "Nothing really?", he repeated quietly more to himself than to Harry. It was no surprise to why Snape's jaw was left hanging agape like he just been confounded, although the Professor had managed to recover in records time. The anger resurfaced right away as Snape dubiously goggled at Harry's so called 'proclamation.'

"Your punishments were not nearly as severe, Potter? Is that how you describe it, you stupid child!!??", exclaimed Snape furiously as practically leap back up onto his feet. His bellowing robs flapped in the air along with him, making him appear as more of some sort of bizarre looking bird than an overgrown bat.

 "Are you saying that the incredulous display performed by that treacherous excuse of a muggle happened on several occasions?"

There was too much silence to be spared. Time was moving fast again and things that Harry knew and held dear were beginning to fade away and back themselves behind the doors that caged them.

"Errrm...", came his denial that showed off his poor lying skills terrifically.

Snape's notorious stern glare challenged him... and won of course for Harry was slipping too fast behind the wall. He felt it...

"Well I suppose kind of, sir", Harry akwardly admitted wanting to move onto a new topic before it was too late and too much was forgotten. But it was too late indeed.

The black indept orbs of the Potions Master had already enlarged several sizes, "Kind of what, Mr. Potter? That Dursley went completely mad? And on you? Has your uncle only abused you scarcely afterwards? Perhaps you were knocking on Death's back door instead of the front one during all these other not so "severe" incidents?"

He didn't have much time! "But It wasn't like that! You wouldn't-"

Of course, just leave it to Snape to blow a casket at Harry's thick-headedness.

"-Understand!?" exclaimed the man loudly enough to blow the roof right off the castle.   Harry practically jumped out of his skin. Snape luckily took it down a notch or two while he still bristled with anger.

"Of course anyone would, you insolent boy! What is there left not to understand after viewing that heinous act performed by that man.", came the dangerous whisper, one that bit deep into Harry's fear like a beast would.

"I'm not abused.", retorted the boy just as darkly as he was glaring daggers at the Professor. Snape didn't look convinced in the slightest of way, and there was no doubt that this battle was about to be lost.

"Don't you dare deny it, Potter. What your uncle did to you was unacceptable and wrong in so many ways. Just why..." Snape took several deep breaths, to calm himself. "Why didn't..." There was obviously something off about the grueling Professor, "How...?"

Harry glanced up confused at how lost Snape had become. The man's hair had fallen ungracefully in front of his face when he turned away. His right had hand trembled over to his left forearm as if stuck in a trance and It didn't surprise Harry when Snape  preceded to rub the arm vigorously on the spot where the Dark Mark had branded him.   Finally the Potions Master managed to grasped his words. Much anger was there as Snape began to pace rather frantically in front of Harry.

"You could have informed either Dumbledore, McGonagall or even myself years ago but of course, just like your pathetic father, your damn foolish pride had gotten in the way. You are too stubborn for your own good, Potter, you...you..."

Harry was baffled at how Snape was pacing enough to burn a hole in the ground.  Was Harry imagining pain in the man's voice as well? It just had to be so, this seemed much too real. Had it been the hurt that prevented Harry from screaming at the man about insulting his father again? But where had he seen this happen before? Harry wondered why he sensed more, he racked his brains and found nothing. Flustered, he watched Snape regroup himself for perhaps the first time Harry had ever seen him do.

"Never the less, child abuse is unacceptable in every society; muggle and wizard alike. No child deserves such treatment... not even you."

Something was earned there, Harry couldn't have been sure that it was sentimental or just Snape doing his job. After all, there was just so much to lose in this situation. From what Harry could depict, Snape didn't want what was so ceremoniously gained to be lost either even if it was unexpected. Just like a gift being given on Halloween instead of Christmas, Harry didn't know how to respond to what Snape was throwing at him. Never in his life would he think that the situation between him and Snape would've occurred. The boy could feel the tension building up all over the room, Snape was fuming and for once it wasn't because Harry was being "Potterish."

Snape stopped suddenly and his whole body began to stiffen tremendously. "I understand you will have difficulty coming to terms with this.", offered Snape awkwardly, but what he must have expected as a response from Harry did not come. The boy was doing more than just brooding.

"No. Actually I wouldn't have any trouble coming to terms with anything, Professor." 

The black form froze and stared at Harry perplexedly. "Pardon?" Snape wasn't hovering over him anymore either...he was stunned on spot.

Frustration was stinging Harry's insides as he squeezed his eyes shut with murderous intentions clear. If he had his wand, he would have cast a healthy "crucio" at his teacher.

"You just don't get it do you?", the hurt that was there inside himself could have not of been any more apparent as Snape's facial expression stilled.

"Picking on me in class, insulting my father's memory, scrutinizing me and my friends when we didn't do anything wrong. You hate me, and I don't know what in Merlin's hell I ever did to deserve it! You have despised me for years and for no reason at all besides how you compare me to my father, who probably didn't do a thing to you either!"

Harry paused akwardly, sensing something was off about what he said but shrugged it off listlessly anyways.

 "But why give it up now, Snape? You have done a traffic job at making me feel like shit all these years! Give me one good reason for me to take your word after everything and trust you. One reason."

His heart was wildly thumping against his rib cage that felt so broken. He wasn't looking at the professor anymore...

"Why would one memory of me getting thwarted by my Uncle distort your undertake of who I am? You don't know me, Professor. Well obviously, unless you still believe I am still spoiled rotten or what not. Why change? If you hadn't known about...well this...you wouldn't."

He tried so hard to fight what was internally dragging him down. In the mist of it all Snape stayed silent for what seemed forever as Harry continued to rant, to make sure that every word harmed Snape more than it would him.

"So clear off Snape! you don't give a damn about me, you don't give a damn about anyone! Your only here because it's your bloody. Damn. Job! "

...but Snape was still looking at him. Unnoticed the black figure was moving closer to his ward, silently falling next to raving young form that was sitting propped up against the door. What has been accumulated since first year was finally coming to the surface for Harry, and he didn't care that Snape's expression was disturbed. The git deserved it and every last bit of misery that Harry thrown at him.

"Obviously you're following orders. Dumbledore's... but as you can see, not even he has been around to 'notice' anything out of the ordinary. Nobody has."

Finally, the silent, clearly exhausted Potions Master spoken. His voice lingered for a moments worth. "Do not doubt the Headmaster, Potter." scolded Snape firmly but finally.

 "Surly you of all people, boy, should know the reasons to his departure." From this, Harry's cheeks colored as he felt a little bit of guilt overcome him from what happen in the Room of Requirements a few weeks back.

"But even before the DA, he's been distant with me.", Harry tried to prove until a hand had waved it away. "Look here, Potter. Dumbledore is not a topic up for discussion tonight."

"Then what is, Professor? You telling all your little Slytherins about my abused childhood? Perhaps that will suffice.", scathing remarked the boy.

Snape turned sharply towards the younger, his face enraged but not so much as to how Harry preferred it to be. Harry would have also called that particular face upset if it hadn't belonged to Snape's but this was indeed Snape.

"I would do no such thing.", came the familiar harsh tone, soaked in the imagined pain however, "Nor would I ever use such a private memory in which to torment and humiliate another for my pleasure or the pleasures of those in my house."

Harry's limbs flailed without thought just as his words did, "Neither would I, surly you must know that!"

Another awkward pause claimed the moment, Harry felt as though something had reattached itself back into his mind. Perhaps it was one of those thoughts that once occurred but was lost in the back skirts of his unconsciousness. It was then that Harry had slapped his mouth shut, fearing what was spoken was a bad omen. What the hell was going on with him? He didn't even know what he was talking about, yet something inside urged it through, like it was natural. It was as if the banging doors in the back of his mind wanted something else to be recalled, what could only be felt more than could be remembered by the mind.

Harry couldn't bring himself to look at the man ashamed that he would suffer mockery from his Professor for babbling more nonsense like he had done the past week in the infirmary. Now was not the time to lose sanity. No time was. But Snape's reaction confused him for he must have read through the lines that Harry was illiterate to. There must have been a connection in those awfully passionate words that ran too deep....

"Potter, you are becoming hysterical again.", it was a cover up and something inside Harry was demanding to know why.

"Hysterical?!", questioned the teen in an abnormally high pitched voice that he had not used in years, "Before I lost my memory you didn't want anything to do with me but even if Dumbledore wanted you to be my...my..."

He cringed at the last word, the blasted word that had been plaguing him since Snape mentioned it, "...my mentor..." Harry made sure to give Snape a taste of his own medicine by turning to glare at him brutally. The two were staring at each other eye to eye. "....You still wouldn't take the job. You hate me...Why?",

Why was he holding back tears? He was almost sixteen now and he was on the verge of crying like a toddler. Then again, Harry was denied so many primal needs; protection, parents, and love. Love, yes love had always brought him on his knees! Had it been because he'd never truly knew of the joy of being loved that made his heart shatter? Was it the fear of rejection that regressed him in such ways? But Snape? The form? Why had it been him that Harry was relying on to provide what had been destroyed? Snape loathed him for no reason...but why? Why so much? Why was the boy hated upon so much? Was this man his last hope? Was this man the reason to why his vision was being stung by such forbidden tears?

And so Harry turned away from Snape as if he been slapped in the face. Why expect anything coming from the liking of that man when he couldn't expect anything coming from anybody else? At such a young age he had realized that such hopes were foolish wishes, but why was he rejecting it still, years later as an adolescent as if he had another chance? Why did he still have impossible childish whims that he was capable of being loved.

"Why are you here? ", asked the boy in a voice that was way too small to belong to him. It was an innocent question. Furthermore, there was no innocent answer.

 However what he was met with in return was not what he expected at all from Snape. Nothing was what he expected as Harry finally concluded when glanced up into those eyes that burned with something greater than all the abhorrence, malevolence, and scorn that has ever been thrashed at him since day one. Instead, that thing that was burning so passionately in the obsidian gaze flickered into an emotion that made the tears that Harry withheld so intensely finally leak through.

Harry would of protested at any given time but he felt just so... drained. His eyes drooped and went bloodshot, his body became terribly sore, and his mind...well his mind was becoming numb like it had been before when he lost it all. It was as if his memories were falling, slowly tumbling down a hill into nothing but an empty bottomless pit.

"Snape", Harry's mind drew a blank as his body fell forward as if in slow motion. Then he felt support, just like the last time, and that same warm form propped him back into a sitting position so that he wouldn't fall...on of all those dead things again. Panic flew into his chest. It was happening, and he was going forget. He didn't want to. He couldn't let go of Snape...

"I think I have something to tell you" but before Harry had the time to panic, a hand was placed on his shoulder, steading him like it did before.

"Hmm?" prompted Snape, rather encouragingly. Harry shifted uneasily in place, but Snape remained still, coaxing him, squeezing his shoulder as if every wrong would find the way to be right.

"I think...I think I did something wrong and...", but the words wouldn't come out the way he wanted them to as he transfixed all that he left on the man who he never thought would matter. He had been the one who saved him from the darkness, all the hurting of the light, and the dreaded fears of losing so much. It was Snape. The form who saved him.

"I'm sorry.", said the boy in voice that trailed off lifelessly with grief.

Snape could only stare speechlessly in awe as his mouth gapped like a fish's. If Harry hadn't been so tired he would of laughed at the sight. What an odd thing for a Snape to do without the malice, and it was stunning how the stony eyes faltered for a bit before hardening. At this, Harry had to wonder if they've always been that way, that he just never saw it up till now. Then the thinning lips parted and how the man shook his head showed how he disagreed with the boy, that or to how he fail to hide his disbelief that Harry was apologizing.

Perhaps it was both. "Nonsense, Potter. There is no need for an apology for something that you have no remembrance of doing, nor is it import or irrelevant to the task which lays ahead now. " The man paused in a way that paused time.

"What? But what hap-?"

"Never mind that, now.", interfered the Potions Master, who took the time to pause before starting up again. "Tell me Potter, have you ever heard of the old muggle saying 'to forgive and forget'?"

Harry met Snape's eyes and nodded. How easier said then done though.

"Well I do I believe it will be best, for the time being at least, that we come to some sort of a... truce. Given the certain circumstance that we are both, as you put it, 'forced' into, it would be wise decision to put our past experiences to the side until further notice. Agreed?", insisted the man. His shockingly soft grip on Harry's shoulder refused to let go until the boy's sad, fading eyes refocused on the cool gleaming black orbs for one of the last moment of that night.

Then Snape put up another front, black eyes narrowed, but failed to turn into the slits that were once so easy for him to form. "And I am not taking 'no' for an answer, Potter."

Harry felt obligated to crack a smile through teary eyes and a failing memory at his Professor.  As strange and unnatural as the man was being towards him, Harry found comfort in the man's words... even if they were too snapish for his liking.

"I'll give it a go, I suppose.", tried Harry with such thoughts in mind, "Not that I have much of a choice..." At this Snape looked at him, lightly amused at his ward's reaction.

"But what about you, sir?" piped up Harry suddenly, "After all, it's going to be tons easier for me to 'forget' than it is for you. Your the one who lucks out in this whole ordeal.", sounded the boy quiet grimly.

 He didn't want to forget again, even if his reason for not wanting to was because of Snape and whatever this was. Could it have been hope that was keeping him here?

"Hmm" Snape raised a single eyebrow at this. "You have a point. However, I hardly believe that luck has anything to do with the fact that I am going to be the one who will be chasing after you like a chicken without a head.", Snape responded dryly.

This time, Harry laughed out loud. Since when did Snape know of so many muggle sayings? The man was Slyterin after all, where in his house most if not all of his students were sorted for their blood purity or for being hater of everything muggle, halfblood, or muggle born. Where the Professor had heard of such sayings were still very unknown to Harry. Never before had he actually been interested in what Snape had to say, and that the sarcastic lining of words were, in some aspects, actually funny. Snape seemed rather...surprised at his reaction.

"Oh Come on! I can't be that bad." , argue Harry between laughing lightly at Snape's comment. How predictable was it that Snape offered him a nice, mindful glare as a bonus.

"Really? I do assure you of the contrary.", insisted Snape quite seriously , "Sooner or later, you are going to be the death of me, Potter."

The sarcasm in that comment was clear, but for the moment, Harry was having much trouble distinguishing the tone from the meaning. Harry hung his head, guilt ridden upon his face. Right away his mind lingered onto his parents and how they would still be alive if it wasn't for him being born to begin with. Although years had aged him in some aspects.  Somewhere down the line, Harry had began to accept that his existence was neither a complete cause or a total fault of his own, and that it was some, if not all Voldemorts misdemeanors. That, however, all changed in fourth year at the end of the Tri Wizard Tornament where in the grave yard he, Harry Potter, had been the lone reason to why Cedric Diggory's life was taken away from him.

An innocent life gone! only because he was foolish enough to be sucked right into a trap. And with the memory so raw in mind about his Uncles taunting ten years ago, it was no wonder he acted so rashly as tears had threatened him once more. Snape turned to him suddenly, fascinated as the boy lowered his head to hid his face. Snape did not miss how glassy the boy's eyes has become.

"Oh, enough with the crocodile tears already." Snape placed another hand on the bridge of his nose to counter an upraising headache.

"Realize, Mr. Potter, that it's going to take more than just a few panic attacks and night terrors from you to tire me out. There is also no reason to underestimate my ability to handle your future antics, you'll come to find out just how crafty I can be with how I deal with you.", smoothly stated the Potions Master who stared at Harry sternly. Still there was no sneering, harshness, or cruelty... just a reprimand followed by reassurance.

"You are, after all, my ward now." Although Snape's features were grim to the definition, Harry thought he imagined that he corners' of Snape's lips had quirked upwards.

Harry flushed and then decided to pay more attention to his feet, which were practically engulfed within his teachers black robes. A redness crept up Harry's neck at the words his Professor decided to use: Night terrors? Antics? Attacks? He was suffering from amnesia for crying out loud! How old did Snape think he was? three?  In Harry's chest he wanted to explode at the man, but something had stopped him.

'You are, after all, my ward now' ...A twang of something made Harry feel what he had never felt before. He never been anyone's anything. But this was Snape who had said this. It was so humiliating, he was going to wake up with no memory of this night, nor remember who he was and relay on Snape to tell him everything. Paranoid fears of Snape turning him into a Slyterin even crossed his mind then.

After a while Snape had then let out one grandiose sign seeming to regret his last word choice but also wanting to finally give in to an inward battle that forced them out.

Uncomfortable with the tension in the room the man continued. "But with regarding your prior question I do suppose...", There was a short pause, "Well.." Snape glanced to the side, glowering softly elsewhere in the room, "I do see it fit that an effort on my part shall be made in attempt to...follow such a proverb."

Harry's emerald green eyes sparkled as silence past between the two for a little while longer. "I wish I had more time...", and the truth had spoken furthermore for Harry as he felt his mind drop many floors of consciousness, "I wish I didn't have to forget." .

There was no doubt that the boy's awareness was failing him as well because Harry just came to realize that his most worst enemy had been sitting down next to him the whole entire time, rubbing his back in a circular motion of pats in a way that was much too soothing to come from Snape's hands.

"I know.", murmured the voice lightly, "But your going to be all right. Considering the circumstances, it is... understandable for you not entrust yourself to me nor anyone else for the matter.", the patting motion increased, surprisingly Harry's tense body began to relax.

"Nevertheless, I promised to protect you."

At this the boy looked up, his dazed eyes fought to stay in the moment and his thoughts came out like a paste in a tube. "For Dumbledore right?"

Snape jerked his head up at what was being implied. Narrowing his brows in a way that hinted an inner struggle the soothing hand motions came to an abrupt halt. However, wordlessly the rubbing started up again causing the boy to drop his head regretting for even asking to begin with.

But then suddenly his desperate question did not end up in vain and the voice spoke up again,  "No Potter.", answered the man in black finally, "For your mother."