Severus Snape was not a nice man and it did not take just a genius Ravenclaw to figure that one out. Even the idiotic first year Hufflepuffs were able to acknowledge that on their very first day in Potions class, the Potions Master was just as evil and equally ruthless as Lord Voldemort himself. How can one mistaken such a man as the "friendly" type anyway with his bat-like appearance, greasy black hair, large hooked nose, and endless wintry, tunnel black eyes? Not only that much was true but the man had an attitude worse than a blast-ended skrewt. How could such a man labeled as such be considered to have a heart at all?

Yes, the children learned that quickly; Severus Snape is as heartless and as bitter as a goblin. Although the man is still a Professor he would never lay a finger on any of his snotty little children he desired to curse with unforgivables till no end. Sure he was cruel and ruthless, but Severus Snape was not known to act violently towards his students. Empty threats here and there were common, but never anything he would ever consider acting on...well for most cases that is. Harry Potter was the exception.

However, there was a time during his youth that may have been so. As a younger man he would have loved to terrorize the young and foolish.  After all, who could blame him? He had lost the love his life to a man that he purely loathed because of an enormous mistake he made. He called her a mudblood and he hated himself greatly after that. In fact, Severus Snape spitted himself so much that he idly swore revenge on the ones he wanted to put the blame on in the first place. Ones like Harry bloody Potter.

Then, Severus Snape made an even bigger error. He over heard a prophesy regarding a child being born who would one day be able to vanquish the Dark Lord. And so spiteful Snape  had went back to that particular Lord which resulted with the Potters ending up dead soon after. Because of such a foolish mistake Lily was dead, gone, finished, deceased; all because of heartless, pitiless Severus Snape.

He mourned over her death after all this time and always. He had loved her deeply for she had been they only one who actually cared about him. Those emeral eyes always accepted the lonely Professor and had seen the good that was inside the forlorn man when no one else was able too. Such a man he was then, all broken apart and remorseful, yet he would honor the woman's memory by vowing to do one thing; protect her son. His path was clear and forward, he was to ensure no harm would come to Harry Potter at all cost.

If only it had been more simple!

For Severus Snape, certain paths had become inter grown with weeds during that journey. Nobody has ever said that his path chosen was the easier one to follow. For Merlin's sake, the man was protecting Harry Potter; the bloody-boy-who-lived-to-drive-him-bonkers. In spite of it all, Severus was dedicated in keeping the boy safe.

Though sometimes (ok scratch that, all the time) he would occasionally (always!) forget that the boy was Lily's as he regarded him more like James Potter's blasted spawn instead. All in all the boy is his father and a carbon copy of the demoralized man in every aspect except for the eyes, all thanks to an atrocious error of genetics. It was really no wonder  why Severus has hated the boy throughout all those years. How could such a little urchin be blessed with such beautiful eyes? That insolent mistake of a life had no business acquiring her a gift when clearly he was nothing like his mother and was everything that his father was! Severus had even faithlessly hoped that perhaps Potter would inherit some favorable traits from his mother as he grew but just like always, Snape's pitious hopes have been lost.

Seeing how troublesome and unruly the child was the minute he stepped into Hogwarts as a first year confirmed that there was hell to come to Severus in the future, that is if the boy had one.  Still it didn't surprise Severus in the least really that Potter being so like his father had made it irrefutably that much easier to truly loath his every fiber. It was a sad comfort but a comfort nonetheless. The boy was wretched down to the core, always seeking trouble, always out for the 'glory or fame' with that impulsive idiotic Gryffindor courage of his. He was his father on the inside and out, looks and all. Why must those eyes be given to such a waste product of a child? Why Lily's eyes? Why Potter?

Sometimes, even the most dedicated wizards drift off their intended paths; one could get horribly hurled off it, lost, or confused by the possibility of changing them... even enraged Potion Masters...

"Get out. Get out, I don't want to see you in this office ever again!"

Severus was on the verge of screaming at the insufferable brat who was literally going to drive him insane if he lingered inside his office any longer. His thoughts were enraged as well; 'Spoiled, pampered prince, spotlight-seeking Potter. Snooping around in business he needn't be involved in. Just like his worthless father.'

Severus Snape was having a fit of rage as he almost laughed cruelly at the shocked expression wearing on Potter's boyish features. The teen, undoubtedly sensing the danger present, scurried away from his venting professor. Severus closed his eyes as he tried so hard to fight the emotions and rage that was pumping wildly through his veins to strangle the abominable little monster.

Then all his anger had seethed over, he squeezed his eyelids shut with the attempt to compose himself. He leaned forward on his chair in hope for some source of control but he ended up griping the fine wood so roughly that it was close to snapping in twos. Severus tried as hard as he could to fight the urge to whip out his wand and start wailing every hex ever known to man at the insufferable brat. Snape's memories from the pensieve ran much to deep. Unfortunately for Potter, they were hitting Severus faster than the boy was moving towards the door...

The memories...

:Flashback:

James Potter looked at Lily Evans with the great urge to run up and kiss her. However, the redhead wasn't about to let that happen, nor anything close to it. Bright green eyes were on the verge of turning the color of her deep crimson hair. Severus paled as he glanced up at Lily and felt heat prickle up his neck and onto his cheeks.

Embarrassment toward the whole situation finally caught up to him. Having Lily trying to protect his sorry arse made Severus look so weak compared to Potter.

"What's he done to you?" She demanded of the other with great force. The redhead had known very well that Severus never actually did anything to damn Potter to deserve such antagonizing behavior. The arrogant fool simply ruffled up his already messy black hair in response.

"Well," Potter started, trying his best to sound as intelligent as possible. Severus' lips twitched into a smirk. Obviously Potter's so called ‘intelligence' was lacking more than a troll's.

"Its more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean..."

It wasn't before long that Lily was yet again defending Severus. Her bright green eyes had iced over into two deadly cold stones, she glared accusingly at Potter as if she never saw anything more disgusting. Potter was showing off, her had a rather devious grin on his face as he barked at the girl's concern for his enemy. Severus groaned as he crawled piteously on the floor inching his way toward his wand in the process. Just when the curse wore off from his body one of his own had formed in mind for Potter to suffer. That sodding prat was making a move on his Lily and Severus had to stop him before he had a chance!

Oh if only the arrogant boy's words hadn't stung Severus harder than any of the curses Potter had ever used on him!

That voice was so soft as he spoke to her, "Go on...Go out with me Evans...", a wry grin replaced a forming sneer, "...and I'll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again."

Flames were raising in Severus's chest as he quickly snatched up his wand and took great aim at Potter's head. His intention was clear...He was going to destroy Potter even if it was the last thing that he'd ever do...

:End of Flashback:

He was going to destroy Potter...

The grown up Severus' aim was just as accurate as it was many years ago when he was a teenager. Feverish eyes snapped open wide as if he was reliving that very moment precisely as it was.

The image railed before him and pain dragged down his mind barriers. Potter was prowling on the loose, he was after Lily; and the student body was laughing and poking fun at him. The humiliation was enormous, he was weak and pathetic and couldn't stop it. The laughing and the chanting of his peers were taking over his mind just as it did so long ago...and he couldn't stop them, he couldn't get away from it. He had to fight. He had to win.

 This time, however, there was no wand in the enraged man's hands to react to the boy who was instigating the jeering. Instead, long bony fingers closed over a rather large glass; a jar of dead cockroaches. Not even a second later was it lifted up off the desk and found hurtling toward a rather different boy who ironically had the same messy mop of black hair.

Severus was not a violent man. He had sworn himself against violence since that very moment he lost Lily. Now the cause he was fighting for was also at a lost or at least  looked that way. Severus wasn't one who often felt his stomach drop but thats exactly what it had done after he hurled that jar towards not James Potter like he intended but at Harry Potter instead. Professor Snape wasn't known to be one who would just stare gaping like an imbecile either, yet he no longer had the control to prevent it.

Black eyes widened enormously in mortification of exactly what he had just done....
Those same black eyes were also glistening in shock as well after a loud smash was heard  of an explosion of glass that had plowed into Potter's head.

Severus's solemnly gazed down at the boy's feet seeing bloodied up shards of glass littering his office floor. He was absolutely astounded. "No...'

  Slowly the man lifted himself out of the baffling trance, stunned by what had just took place in his study. Black orbs clashed with Potter's uneasily emerald ones which had directly caused his jaw to remain hanging open in bewilderment as it was. Severus Snape was now staring at a completely different boy.

Only a few feet away, Potter was staggering in place.

He seemed to not have fallen after being impacted by the jar but he was blown backwards which had caused him to slammed into the wall from behind. His whole entire left side of his head was bleeding profusely from what Severus could see. There was glass, and immeasurable amounts of it sticking out of his neck. The elegant necklace of red was his to wear unfortunately. Severus' gasped noting how there was a rather large shard lodged in the side of Potter's skull; the source of where the majority of the bleeding was coming from.

The Ex Death Eater that once would have enjoyed being the cause of such a gresume sight was absolutely besides himself with what he done. Snape, impassive Potions Master had taken an involuntary step backwards at the horridness in front of him.

 'No....No....no! This is impossible!!' He internally stammered.
Of course Severus had cursed himself silently for allowing such weaknesses take hold of his actions.


'Stop gaping like a fool' came the scathing remark from his mind. 'and for Merlin's sake do something already! Look what you've done!'

"Potter," Severus murmured lamely, allowing the shock to seep into his spine.

The man's eyebrows rose in surprise as he watched Potter stand on the spot appearing  more and more withdrawn from the reality that Severus was unfortunately forced into. He had paled multiple shades whiter than he already was when the boy did not answer him. Onyx orbs then brightened with a newly found motive. His matching black robes had flown behind him as he rushed over to the now howling Potter.

Swaying on the spot and moaning in agony the boy had finally cried out. Mortified, the Potions Master could only watch as Potter placed a hand on his lightning bolt scar and evidently failed to pinpoint the source of the pain. Severus' stomach dropped as saw the boy rearranged it to feel the left side of his head where the gruesome gash was met.

Immediately Potter started screaming like a banshee undoubtedly in dire agony felt. Severus had great doubts of his ability to control himself as he imagined his body launching forward.

He tried to reach the boy again, "Potter"

He moved even more quickly over to the teen who remarkably was still standing after the incident. However Potter was still not responding to his form in the least. Anxiety chilled   his inside as he tried to suppress his frustration at the incompatible boy who was hanging his head insensibly.

"Potter!", came Professor Snape's more normal sharper tone. He was standing right next to the moaning boy, but there was still no response coming out of the sorry little creature.

Seriously, if Potter wasn't going to answer him-

"Sweet merlin, Potter, if you do not answer me this instant...", said Severus aloud, no longer able to shield his thoughts. Severus's stomach clenched again, this time more severely.

Hell! he could not even think of a single thing to threaten the boy with to snap him out of this facade! Helplessly Severus watched as the child hung his bloody head and dumbly transfixed with whatever attention he had left on his own hand. It was bleeding profusely from a wound. A crimson red then stained his skin and hair which had matted in clumps of both wet and dried up blood.

The man was growing angrier by the passing minutes with what he had just abhorrently committed....and with the blasted Potter brat by the second for being incompetent.

'Happy now Severus?' lashed out the chiding voice inside him 'The boy mysteriously acquired himself red hair. Matches up really nicely with those green eyes...'

Severus reached out to touched the boy's shoulder and squeezed it firmly as a desperate attempt to awaken him out of whatever state he had collapsed into. Still receiving no reaction from Potter, the nerve-stricken Professor took in a deep breath and countered the blasted anxiety he was experiencing so intently.

"Potter," he said again, calmly and more softly trying to gain the boy's attention as he was right up close to him. Severus clenched his jaw shut as he examined the boy's injuries further.

The shard of glass was rather deeply lodged deeply in the side of his head, his collarbone was decorated in bruises of all colors and there were  multiple gashes across Potter's face to match the larger gash given to his head. The boy wouldn't pick up his head or acknowledge anybody else for that matter...well, Severus being the only "other" being in the room that is.

"Potter. Look at me," Severus commanded as he shook the boy's shoulder gently.

The boy was almost lifeless now, just hanging his head in such a comatose way. Severus was besides himself.

'Why wouldn't the insolent child lift up his head!' Onyx orbs scanned the room frantically, Potter's state was worsening.

'Well maybe if the boy didn't have a large piece of glass sticking out of it he would be more coherent!' He was really going to kick himself for such stupidity when this was over.

How could he possibly allow this to happen? He was a teacher! He was supposed to protect his students not throw glass jars at them! and for merlin' sake he was suppose to protect Potter from harm! Bloody Harry Potter, the boy-who-was-now-going-to-die-because-of-him! Dumbledore was going to have his head for this! He couldn't let down the old coot again; not after what he done and what he had promised to do. Not to mention what was really important: he couldn't bare to fail to protect Lily's son.

The panic had finally soaked through Snape's hardened exterior, "POTTER!"

 Ironically the Potion's master could not take anymore of Potter's silence. He knelled down and with two fingers had tilted up the boy's chin so that he was at eye level with him. What Severus saw, however, was more shocking than any of the injuries Potter received from the jar.

Former lively green eyes were quickly dulling and fading in color. Eyes which normally held so much emotion to them, so much life and so much energy were now just so...lifeless. The spark was gone. That light in those emerald eyes was like a dieing life within itself.

The boy couldn't see him, but Severus could tell that he did see something else. Potter let out a howl of pain mixed with sobbing, the eyes came to life for the moment and were wide with horror. The boy yanked his chin away from Snape's hands and grabbed his own head instead. From the looks of it he had started to pull on the blood stained chunks of hair. Severus jerked backwards at such an unusual display of antics. What was going on with the boy? Tears were flowing freely Potter's eyes, but there was something else wrong...

Something very very wrong indeed.

His tears weren't tears... it was blood.

Out of all the gruesome things that Professor Snape had ever seen as a Death Eater, this was by far one of the worst. Something odd flew into man's chest just then as he saw those dieing eyes: it was a very forlorn feeling that Severus has not felt in such a long time...

Was it panic? No, ok then... was it concern?

Professor Snape grimaced at the thought of actually feeling...concerned for the Potter brat. What has began to fester inside him oddly renewed such emotions. This however, was the least of his problems, there was a child---yes a child---because that was all Severus could see Potter as at the moment who was direly in need of medical care!

The Potions Master survived the room quickly, he needed potions right away. The child was sobbing uncontrollably for reasons so unknown that the pang of guilt that Severus suffered only increased as Potter's cries did. During the whole time Severus didn't even notice that his hand was still squeezing onto the boy's shoulder...

"Harry..." Severus murmured as he withdrawn his wand, suddenly wild eyes flew open in realization at the slip of Potter's first name. "Potter!" He spluttered out, trying to make up for the slip. Severus inwardly cursed himself while he cursed Potter for being a Potter to begin with.

Honestly, those odd feelings were getting the better of him now. He summoned a few potions from his shelves and started fumbling with them in one hand while the other hand prevented Potter's body from toppling over.

The dieing green embers of light in the child's eye's relighted themselves for a moment to lock onto the Professor's sparked coal ones. Neither could tare away from the other's gaze for what felt like an eternity. Severus finally confirmed that whatever he he saw in that painful expression would haunt him in his sleep...

Then it was too late, the boy gave into his struggle and before Severus was able to administrate the potions the boy's failing balance gave in completely. One hand wasn't enough to steady Potter as Severus quickly found out. He was falling. The Potions master's eyes snapped up to the tottering form and with reflexes swift and ridged, had maneuvered himself and caught Potter right before he hit the cobblestone floor.

The child then landed into his arms rather lightly. Too lightly in fact... and very much destroyed....

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

"Potter! You better answer me, boy. Answer me!"

Green eyes were still open, but they were dimmer than the night that was drawing near.

"Potter?"

Severus held onto the boy in his arms and continued to shake him gently in order to prevent him from fading away.

"Potter."

He gave in and then they closed. There was nothing left to him.

Severus was left staring at the broken boy cradled in his arms. How could this happen? How could he have been so careless and sloppy with himself and just let this happen? He was so highly skilled in Occlumency and still he allowed his anger at the boy to get the best of him.

Dumbledore was going to kill him.

This was certainly not good at all! There was no way to go and lie to the old man's face and his lemon drops and get away with it. After all, the pestering wizard knew Severus all too well. So as he glowered down at the insufferable brat in his arms he marveled that if the boy hadn't gone into his pensieve none of this would have happened in the first place!

Honestly, the Potions Master was going to murder the child for invading his privacy when he awakens...

'Oh yes' At this he corrected the error in his mind. 'Thats right' he was going to murder the boy if he awakens....

Shuddering at the thought of a dead Potter, those odd feelings again flipped flopped in his lower intestines. With this in mind Severus swiftly checked the boy's pulse.

'Alive'

There was a heart beat, and as faint as it was Severus could not help but feel grateful for such a little thing. Although he did continue to sneer endlessly at the inconvenience that was being presented to him so bluntly.

Professor Snape had to act quickly. He had to get the boy to the infirmary and not be noticed by any students who could be roaming around in the halls. Flooing into the infirmary wing was out of the question for Severus  had no intension on wanting to risk injuring the boy further. After all, every Floo network inside the castle was being monitored by that pathetic plump, toad of a woman Umbridge. He could not risk the Ministry getting wind of Potter's state if it didn't improve. Also if they happen to make the discovery, Potter's condition would be published by that scummy Daily Prophet and thus the Dark Lord would be involved.

Contemplating his options, Severus decided to take his chances with walking. He would have to do it the muggle way though and carry Potter up to the infirmary himself. But he had to move now. Potter couldn't be seen in such a state by anyone or else all harvoic would be sure to break loose.

And so quickly but carefully Severus lifted the lifeless boy into his arms. He then carefully shifted Potter's weight in his arms so that a comfortable departure could be kept for them both. He had to make sure that Potter's head wasn't dangling as well. And so with great gentleness the Professor propped the child's head up against his chest as carried him through the thankfully deserted halls.

He accelerated his steps as he left the dungeon behind and accurately as possible climbed the multiple sets of staircases and rounded endless corners. Occasionally, the Professor glanced down at the boy as he moved along briskly, hoping that somehow the child would awaken unharmed. To no avail, Potter did nothing of the sort.

As he climbed up the remaining set of stairs, Severus saw the lights of the infirmary pouring out from the head. He sighed relieved that he had finally reached his destination at last. The Potion's Professor grew exhausted with the weight in his arms after every step he took closer the entrance. Sure Potter may be lighter and smaller than the majority of students in his grade, but he was no pixie to carry either. After getting to the top of the staircase, Severus threw open the infirmary doors with just one arm. There was no time to waste.

"POPPY! QUICK! GET A BED READY! "

Within seconds, the legendary medi-witch reacted to Professor Snape's sharp outburst by rounding the corner in a heartbeat. Her beady little eyes widened in surprise.

"P-Professor Snape? You gave me a scare," announced the medi-witch. She brought her hand to her chest after she caught sight of who he was carrying, "Mr. Potter? What on earth happen to him, Severus?"

"There is no time for an exclaimation now. Potter is in critical condition and is in dire need of immediate care. A complete diagnostic spell must be ran on him before I return. I'm going to go fetch Dumbledore..."

Wordlessly Madam Promfey motioned the man over to a clean bed to lay Potter down upon. She then took out her wand and transfigured the boy's blood stained robes into a clean, sanitary infirmary gown. Beady black eyes were drawn up at the Potions Master with confusion written all over her features.

"Dumbledore?", she questioned, "Dumbledore is gone. How are you going to find him, Severus?", Severus scowled at the obviousness in her voice but the man could not bring himself to a sneer.  As if memorized he had watched the woman's wand linger over certain areas of Potter's upper body. It was not an easy task for him to remain internallty calm. All the man could muster at that moment was his hard exterior and self control....even though those particular traits were inceptively becoming rather difficult for him to retain.

"On the contrary, Poppy. I am quite aware of the headmaster's exact where-a-bouts. I will assure you that contacting him is the least of our problems," he bluntly commented as he kept his tone stern even as he glanced back down at the broken boy on the bed.

"Also you should alert Minerva as soon as his injuries are tended to. I will advise that the boy's condition does not get out to the rest of the staff if regarded serious. Dolores Umbridge must remain ignorant."

Poppy sighed as she began to remove the shards of glass sticking out of the boy's head with the twirling motion of her wand.

"Umbridge is at a Ministry meeting as we speak. She is not expected to return to Hogwarts until tomorrow at noon," Poppy stated as she carefully fingered the large shard of glass in her hand. A pained, worried frown came over her expression like a plague.

"Severus, these injuries do look serious," said the witch who wasn't doing a good job keeping her voice from wavering with worry. Severus turned away to hide a disgruntled scowl.

Why did it have to be Potter who was always caught up in these situations? Why did it always have to be him who had to protect the irresponsible brat?

"He will live, yes?", he prompted. The man deadpanly tried to hide the odd feelings that had been bubbling inside him since the moment Potter fell unconscious in his arms.

He was finding it rather difficult to continue loathing the boy which was odd. Afterall, he had been despising Potter continuously for the past five years. Such strong enmity came so easily for him, the mere thought of the boy's father and his tormenting ways was all that it took. But now it was different because it wasn't just Potter's son who lying on a white mattress with shards of glass sticking out of his head, it was Lily's son as well.

Clearly, Severus wasn't winning in this situation.

"He will," stated Poppy. Snape inwardly sighed in relief and found that his heart rate had slowed down enormously after hearing those words.

The boy will live.

However, Poppy's dismal expression did not falter as Severus quizzically watched her dislodge the another shard of glass that was implanted into Potter's neck this time.

"But for Mr. Potter, I fear there is a lot at stake for him at the moment. The extent of his injuries will be unknown until he wakes up... or rather if he wakes up."

Severus brought a finger to his chin and slowly turned towards the disturbed medi-witch. He  then met her worried features and challenged them, his own remained unreadable as always.

 "And what may your implications be if Mr. Potter is to awaken from his unconscious state?"

The little medi-witch bit her lip nervously and remained silent as she ran her wand over the next gash in Potter's head. She then effectively removed the next piece of glass before the worse case scenario was stated.

"Brain damage," struggled the woman as her focus on Potter's wound wavered. Taking the impact from the blow expected, Professor Snape once again braced himself as he felt his stomach close up. That nervous feeling strangled his insides, his fears were confirmed.

Now for the hardest part of this whole mess; he had to figure out how deliver the news to Dumbledore. Severus scolded himself foreseeing that he was going to be in for a long night.

Poison dripped into his dour voice, "To. what. Extent. Exactly?" Snape demanded through clenched teeth in his infamous, low monotone voice. He had no tolerance left for such brief statements, but Poppy was looking irritable at being spoken to in such a rude manner.

"Professor Snape!", rebuked she, "I will not know what type of brain damage the boy will have until a complete diagnostic charm is performed. And as you have stated earlier, such a valuation will be performed before you return here!"

Snape turned away from the medi-witch, his pride bruised yet thankfully still in tack. For Merlin's sake, he felt like he was being scolded like a misbehaved child. This wasn't helping his already incensed state either.

She went on despite how the man's eyes narrowed into two deadly slits, "The extent of the damage is unknown until further notice. Anything else you would you like to know, Professor, before you depart?"

Severus sneered inwardly at the medi-witch but took into account at the same time that she had a reasonable point. He should be on his way to go confide with the headmaster about the situation and not beating around the bush. Besides the woman was tending to Potter's injuries, the boy was obviously in good hands now so why was he still lingering there? After all, he decided he had a more important matters to take care of first. He assured himself wisely that Poppy was capable of handling the situation. The man had to give the witch some credit, she worked wonders that were unimaginable.

But why couldn't he shake the dread of worry off his shoulders?

Severus turned on his heel, "I will return with Headmaster. Have that diagnostic spell performed."

With those few words, Severus left Poppy's side after biding her a quick farewell. His aloof eyes however, hovered over to where the women's wand was being pointed at, Potter's head.

The battered child was lying lifelessly on white sheets; his hair still retaining a color similar to his mother's of crimson, instead of  messy black.

Blood stained hair that is...

Black robes bellowed out beneath Severus' feet right before he left the infirmary and drifted outdoors. He would have to apparate outside of Hogwarts in order to go and retrieve Dumbledore. Severus let out a grandiose sigh already foreseeing what battles were surly to come. 

The incredibly, irritated Potion Master hated apparition. Come to think of it, he hated apparition for multiple reasons and it wasn't because of the feeling he received. Luckily for Professor Snape, the heart lurching experience was no longer an issue. Severus has been accustomed to apparition for years so it was really a wonder that what fazes him about it, is more than what meets the eye.

Let's just say that Severus' great dislike for the way of transportation came from certain "experiences" that preceded afterwards. Likewise, just take being constantly forced into attending those 'wonderful' Death Eater meetings as an example. After an apparition and a cruciatus curse later, the man would normally be found sitting in an armchair back at Hogwarts downing numerous amounts of potions and pinching the bridge of his nose. With a displeasure so great that its maddening, Severus would also have to undergo a battle with the pains of a raising headache.

Of all honesty, the man was much better off being at a blasted Death Eater meeting than going to meet up with Dumbledore right at this particular moment. A hundred cruciatus curses sounded almost appetizing compared to withstanding the heated confrontation waiting to come. It was dreadful really...

An uneasiness encumbered Severus' insides just as his surroundings finished spinning out in front of him. Ohand no...it wasn't because he had just apparated.

Severus was trying as hard as he could to cling onto his equanimity as he stood on the front doorsteps of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. The agitated Professor then took in a deep breath and slowly let it escape his chest. He had to try to calm himself down; now was not the time to panic. After all, he had been in far worse off situations than this one, surely he was inevitably forced to be when it came down to arriving in close contact with the menacing Dark Lord.

...So then why was he so out of the loop?

Contemplating with himself on whether he should just go back to pretend that the whole mess he gotten himself into never actually occurred was notably out of the question. Severus immediately scolded such thoughts; was he a bloody coward!? This had to be done! Better off now than never, and he had little choice in the matter on if Dumbledore shall be notified on such a dire important situation regarding the 'golden boy'.

So without another moment of hesitation, Severus Snape gathered himself up, pushed away his emotions, rammed the overwhelming thoughts of doubt back into the crevices of his mind, and proceeded to push open front door in a stiffly facaded fashion.

'Now wasn't the time to 'slip up' on emotions' pondered the man as he stepped inside, even though his had been rather sloppy lately.

To Prove himself otherwise he marched forward into the Order's meeting place. By doing so Severus then could no longer help how his intuition was telling him that what lays ahead is going to get interesting.

Shutting the door behind his composed form, the Potions Master found that the wards the Order had in place bypassed him without doubt. Within moments he was safely inside of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. There an infamous sneer replaced his expression as he absentmindedly took in the the poor condition of the house.

The walls were decrepit, the wallpaper continued to reek mildew and mold. Dust was not just only on the furniture, but everywhere in sight. Out of all due "respect" to the notorious Black, the place looked like it was going to fall apart in a heap of decaying wood. How very unsurprising...

'Honestly...' Severus thought to himself and he surveyed the manor, ‘The overbearing Mutt can't even manage to care for his own household. Wonders never seek.'

It took only a few moments before familiar voices began echoing off of the deteriorated walls. Severus neared the living area at a brisk pace where his keen hearing took him towards the incompetent snarling of one irritable Sirius Black.

"...and what about Umbridge being Headmistress now? Headmaster, Please, without you there Harry isn't safe!"

Then there was another interruption coming from the room. It was from a old, rusty voice whose could only belong to Mad Eye Moody. Severus Snape stilled as the haggard boom rang triumphantly throughout the house.

"Potter ya say?! Well thats a load of nonesense, Black! That boy will be protected." reassured Moody to the irked mutt, "Even if we have to go to Hogwarts ourselves to achieve that!"

"I don't know about that, Moody," cautiously inquired the soft growl of Remus Lupin. The werewolf continued to explain the reasons to why not as Severus stalked past the howling portrait of Black's insufferable mother.

"..so as you can see, Aurors can not simply march into the school with Dolores there. It may stir up suspicion within the Ministry of Magic, and then Fudge gets involved."

The worn out tiredness in the werewolf's voice did not fail to surpass Severus's ears. Perhaps the man was still recovering from the effects of the full moon.

Moody then grumbled in a low, dangerous voice to the werewolf as his temper raised at a steady pace, "Have you noticed we are at war then, Lupin? How about we do our jobs and protect the students. They don't have a chance without Dembledore at that school, eh?"

"DON'T HAVE A CHANCE? ARE YOU MAD, MAD EYE?" It was the rebellious higher pitch that Severus immediately depicted as belonging to the lively young Tonks.

"AM I?" Challenged the other, "The Dark Lord is raising in power as we speak. Can we further say that Fudge will cease to deny this?"

Severus casually strolled through Black's dining area while lazily eying the rusted possessions that were left in the man's name. He came to a brief pause as he neared the room in which the meeting was being held. There was no doubt that heat was radiating off of what was being discussed inside. Impassive dark eyes swept the multiply hallways towards the pathway  sure to lead where the sounds were bouncing from within.

A smug smirk tinted the Potions Master's lips as he paused to admire the misery.

Still, Severus had to do what he had come to do. He started toward the voices again and rounded the next corner of the room that led, yet again, to another hallway. Black robes billowed out from beneath his feet with every elongated stride he took.

Suddenly, the next voice Severus heard from the room gave him the urge to spin around on heel and retreat towards the front door.

"Gentleman and Miss Tonks, there is no need to argue," came that familiar entrancing voice which Severus knew all too well. Low, calm, and at ease with the world and everything within, Albus Dumbledore's eyes were most likely sparkling with wisdom as he calmed his fellow Order members.

He continued softly, "Remus has indeed made an important point. Interference at Hogwarts is unnecessary, and risking the Order though is much too great of a danger. Entangling ourselves with Fudge furthermore we cannot do if we wish to succeed with this war." The conversation continued again after a low grumble was emitted from the other oldest Order member at the table.

"Although your point will not go unnoticed either, Moody," attempted Dumbledore to a disgruntled Mad-Eye who snorted in response. The old wizard continued on.

 "The protection of the students is indeed first priority."

 Severus could sense that the Headmaster meant what was said, but the obnoxious mutt was making the situation rather difficult as always.

"What about my godson?", demanded a flustered Black, his voice was on the edge of breaking down with apprehension, "Isn't he first priority?"

 Within seconds Severus' obsidian eyes sparked as he heard a table from within the room being slammed by a fist.

"Ah. Not to worry, my boy. Young Harry's protection has already been taken into account by a few members of the staff that I have personally selected."

And who those "personally selected" individuals were, Severus held greatest sympathy for. He imagined himself feeling sorry for the pity soul who was stuck babysitting Potter during such hard times. There was no doubt that Potter was also going to be an even larger burden to carry than he already was due to such recent events.

"And who might they be, Headmaster?", asked Black hotly to the Headmaster, of course Severus didn't even need an invitation to intrude.

He rounded the next corner with a lip turned up in distaste with how petulantly Black was being towards his elder. However, before Dumbledore even had a chance to respond, Severus grabbed the knob and flung open the door. His ears were pleased to hear nothing but silence that seeped into the room. In the doorway he stood, making sure that he took turn to glare at each and every Order member who was brainless enough to meet his acidic gaze. All were stunned in their seats by his malevolent presence enough as it was during meetings whenever the man was near, but this was taking it to a new level.

Well...that is almost all of them were stunned...

At a rectangular table, the Potions Master was able to pinpoint an already infuriated Black whose eyes shifted from the Headmaster to himself numerous times. He was sitting at one head of the table balling a pained looking hand into a tempered fist. The mutt dared to suffice his enemy a dangerous scowl in which Severus ignored quite easily.

'Insufferable as always' Mused Severus to himself as he contently watched the mutt steam from the ears.

Then there was Lupin, the Mutt's best mate who was sitting next to Black and was giving his friend a disproving shake of the head. The werewolf's dowdy appearance affirmed Severus' conclusion about the full moon. Across from the man beast sat Mad Eye Moody whose mad eye was focusing essentially on Severus. The Potions Master challenged the man an infamous raise of an eyebrow but he could still feel the thing x-raying him from head to toe suspiciously.

Nemphdora Tonks, whose hair color swirled to bright red from the previously heated discussion was seated squarely between Moody and her cousin Black. Then there was Hogwarts' Headmaster...or rather "ex" Headmaster, Ablus Dumbledore. Dressed down in lavish purple robes and twirling his large white beard with a free hand, he sat contently on the opposite head of the table, across from Black. His blue eyes sparkled with wonder from beneath his spectacles at the sudden appearance of his most trusted spy.

"Ah, Severus. Welcome. Please do come in," politely acknowledged the Headmaster.

Severus Snape nodded as his gaze completely transfixed onto Dumbledore's own. Black let out a sudden growl at his intruder. Severus could concluded that the mangy mutt was rather overprotective of his territory. To once again ignore the irritable, provocative man, was becoming more difficult by the sluggishly passing moments.

"Headmaster," Severus said returning his politeness back to the man with a short bow of the head.

"What brings you here, my boy?", inquired Dumbledore curiously.

Unfortunately, the rage that Severus detected radiating off of Black's poor body language finally shot out like a bullet towards him.

"Yeah, Snivellus. We all would like to hear what dire important news you have for us," sarcastically snarled Black.

Severus raised an amused eyebrow the the incompetent other and chuckled at such stupidity. "Unfortunately, Black, my dire important news is strictly for the Headmaster alone.", he promptly snapped, "I am quite sure that even you have the capability to comprehend the significance of a 'private' discussion."

The cunning Head of Slyterin lips trickled up in amusement as he continued. "That is of course, unless all this extra leisure time has affected your ability to do so."

Right on cue Black growled at Severus' purred out comment and stood up from his seat. Just as predicted, Black's hands flew into his pockets. However, Severus stood his ground rather smugly after witnessing how the other's face churned into a deep shade of red.

"Leisure time", repeated the growl with a twisted grin, "Oh, Snivellus, you shouldn't have..."

Luckily Dumbledore raised his hand to put a halt to Blacks predicted actions and, thankfully what was sparkling behind the Headmaster's specs continued to dazzle the two younger wizards... especially the Potions Master.

"That will be quite enough," said the Headmaster softly to both men.

Black reluctantly sat back down, but the redness had not yet receded from his cheeks. However the mutt's vicious glare was still fixed onto Severus who was now all up to sneering at the other man for the moment. The other three pairs of eyes gave their attention away from the two as Dumbledore slowly stood up from his seat as.

"We are going to have to continue this discussion at another time. Please do excuse me, it seems that something else needs to be brought to my attention," said the Headmaster to the Order members, all of whom, except for Black, nodded to agree. Black continued to glare accusingly at his intruder as Dumbledore moved across the room. Suspicion was very much there for Severus. How wonderful?

The Headmaster then turned to his spy silently and nodded for him to continue onwards. The Potions Master closed his eyes, realizing the harsh reality in what had to be said in the next minutes. Nodding stiffly back to the older wizard, he departed from the scene. Dumbledore remained close behind which oddly made Severus feel a twang of guilt rise up into his chest. Already, he was feeling those all knowing-eyes drilling into the back of his scull unpleasantly.

The old coot always seemed to have knowledge of beyond knowledge itself. Still, Professor Snape had to ask himself; Why him? Why Dumbledore?

His heart skipped a beat at the next question that was forming way too quickly...

Why Potter?

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

After casting multiple silencing and privacy charms around Black's living room, the Headmaster and his trusted spy settled themselves down into armchairs directly across from another in front of the fire place. From an outsider's view, the environment looked rather serene...but the flames?  Inside the fireplace they were blazing with such a great intensity that Severus could have sworn that his own anxiety was being reflected off of them.

Not only that was true, but they were undoing him more than he would ever know...

Both men accepted fire whiskey that was offered from Black's house elf, Kreacher. Severus took a sip and let out a sigh as the liquid warmed his stomach and released the tension in his neck and shoulders.

‘Well at least I wasn't offered lemon drops' inwardly mused Severus as he remembered the multiple times he was offered the disgusting sweets.

However, that same old feeling continued to grow inside his chest quite rapidly as the minutes passed by in silence. The slight amusement of the situation quickly faded away as such sensations grew stronger. The younger wizard transfixed his impassive gaze towards the flames which were contently licking at the wood. The crackling sound and the warmth that was produced nearly soothed Severus even with Dumbledore's calculating gaze. Thankfully, the wizard was giving him another moment to collect his thoughts before it was indeed he who spoke up.

"I must ask what you are pondering on about, my boy. You seem rather unsettled about something." Severus looked up from the fireplace to slowly turn his head towards the headmaster.

"Yes," he replied, keeping his voice as monotoned as possible. After bringing his fire whiskey up to his lips he silently slurped at its contents. Alcohol burned his throat as predicted but cooled down quite quickly.

It calmed him for the moment...but only a moment.

"The Dark Lord, I might presume?"

"No," Severus paused. His neck grew stiff from his own thoughts as his face remained still as stone.

"It's Potter."

Then there was more silence. Dumbledore placed his fire whiskey down on the small night table next to him while he fingered at his long silver beard with a free hand.

"Harry?", asked the Headmaster a tad more keenly as his voice found the strength to do so, "Would you care to elaborate on that, Severus?"

Dark, unemotional eyes grew bland but then surprisingly flickered with an unknown flare that neither he nor the other man across from him could directly pinpoint. Fortunately for grueling Professor Snape, the expression did indeed leave as quickly as it had arrived.

"Of course, Headmaster," murmured Severus over a whisper, "There has been an accident," he said sternly.

The room grew silent for a minute. Dumbledore looked up and opened his mouth to question his spy again, but Severus hurriedly continued his story in attempt to still the other's tongue. All of what was calm, controlled, and a calculating facade, took over the man's demeanor once more. At once, and as if the fire from within the mantle place had concurred such an event, the man had his confidence back where it belonged.

"Yes. An accident," Severus clearly pronounced, "...In my office during Potter's Occlumency lesson."

The headmaster sat up in his seat, leaned in, and showed great interest about the situation presented. Luckily for Severus, his blank, expressionless features hid the entirety of the truth. However, he had to remain weary of Dumbledore's suspicions. The old man was all too cunning and much too clever to have once belonged in a house full of a bunch of dunderhead Gyrfindors.

"I had dismissed the boy earlier from lessons in order to attend to other affairs. Potter deliberately disobeyed my decisive instructions to leave my classroom.", the black stony eyes recovered quickly.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose as he settled back into his armchair. He had the old man's full attention now as blue eyes glistened with what was considered "all- knowing." Severus scowled at himself, noticing that he was faltering with how he was presenting his tale.

"I should have beseemed the likely situation from the little delinquent," Severus took another sip of his whiskey and settled it down on the table. He fumbled with his tossing fingers.

He proceeded in his tale, "Mr. Potter once again succeeded to confirm my previous conclusive statements that these indiscreet actions of this child have not ceased to prove the truth within itself that the boy is veritably, a carbon copy of his arrogant ancestor," another sip of whiskey gave a ranting Severus the little spark that he needed to continue his story.

"I had returned after certain affairs to discover a blatant Mr. Potter snooping around in my Pensieve," Severus sneered at the memory as he gazed back into the flames.

Anticipated nerves were struck inside the younger man when the eyes of Albus Dumbledore sparkled behind the older man's signature half-moon spectacles more lively than before. The old Headmaster's fire whiskey still remained untouched.

Lights glinted dangerously from within Severus's black orbs just as well. He was feeling rather satisfied with himself at the moment, for his plan to bring up Potter's little incident was running rather smoothly.

"After I had removed him from my memories, I must have given the censurable brat a bit of a fright," smirked Severus , "Of course clumsy Potter cannot keep himself out of trouble. The boy fell against my cabinets where I stored my empty vials and glasses. The whole entire cabinet fell on top of him leaving him more than just injured."

There was more silence, that in which Severus was becoming rather "ticked-off" by. It was surprising that Dumbledore did not pursue further. Instead, the older wizard transferred his attention over to the fireplace. Oddly he seemed to be studying the flames, those which were were blazing with fury and hungrily consuming the logs.

Severus sank down deeper into his armchair impatiently waiting for some type of reaction from the old coot. There was none. Giving up waiting, he transferred his attention to the fire as he as well became transfixed in the wild, untamed beauty of the flames.

'Shall I even bother?' Severus sighed at this and continued on with his story despite the Headmaster's lack of attention.

"Madam Promfrey suspects brain injuries. The boy was in critical condition when I left to come here to retrieve you. Umbridge has left for a meeting at the Ministry as well and will not be returning until tomorrow noontime. You may intrude at will to visit the boy if you wish."

"I see," replied Dumbledore after what seemed forever. Appearing as though he was  contemplating over something of great importance, Dumbledore continued to stroked through his beard as he gaze into the mantle place.

There was more silence, and for once Severus wasn't enjoying such peace.

This crucially unsettled the man's nerves after he witnessed how the Headmaster had not yet asked any questions. Picking up his glass of fire whiskey, Severus resumed to drink. He began to anxiously fiddle with the glass at hand as well while he waited for any type of response.

Then there was one. "Severus?"

 He courtly lifted his apathetic eyes up from his glass. A very uneasy feeling was swimming around his insides, and it wasn't from the whiskey...

"Severus. Can you recall precisely what memories Harry had seen of yours?"

The headmaster withdrew his gaze away from the fireplace as light reflected off of his pale wrinkled skin. The insufferable, all-knowing expression resurfaced completely for Severus to see. Unconsciously, the younger wizard lifted his glass to his lips but paused midway. There was something about the question that just wasn't quite right. Severus honestly figured that he would like to know more about Potter's condition if anything, but of course the blasted man wanted to know more about the bloody memory that the boy saw!

 "It was a memory about a time back in my fifth year... Potter and Black happened to be there," sneered Severus as he sank deeper into the armchair, wishing to himself that he could disappear into its comfort. "Potter has viewed my memories of his arrogant prat of a father and godfather and what they'd-"

Severus stopped ''Wait...' His eyes drifted upwards to the headmaster who was now lifting both brows and folding both hands patiently on top of his lap. His eyes sparkled as if they knew of a much bigger truth; this only angered Severus further.

Dumbledore couldn't possibly assume that he was directly involved with the causes of Potter's injuries. The old coot could simply be assuming after all...

"Albus," Severus growled, "Potter invalidated my privacy. My memories! It was one thing for him to view his bloody father doing what he had done to me as an adolescent, but if he was to discover my relationship with his..." The clever Head of Slytherin struggled just then with words. "His mother..." he forced.

The Potion Master's expression instantly fell into something dark and of melancholy.

The old headmaster just lowered his head and looked up at Severus sadly. Albus seemed disappointed that something wasn't being said by his spy, and Severus could feel it. The old man's hands were now resting on his arm chair. His fire whiskey still remained untouched. Severus glanced down at his own glass and by god! It was already three quarters of a way finished!

"If Harry was to see you with Lily, Severus. I would think he would have understood-"

"NO!" Shouted Severus. His voice was crackling like the wood was in the fireplace.

And indeed were they crackling. They also snapped and fell into the ashes where they continued to burn. Within a minute, a terrible migraine shot through the Potions Professor's head. He fumbled with his glass at hand and not knowing what more to do, placed it down harshly on the table beside him. Severus brought that hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. His head pounded in defeat just as the flames engulfed the logs viciously; and that fire was burning with great fury...just like his insides were doing.

"No Albus, Potter must remain ignorant. You promised, and we've already discussed this issue. I wouldn't be able to bare it," came his grumbled answer.

Dumbledore gave the younger wizard a pleading look. Severus did not to bother to suppress a groan. Flustered beyond belief, he leaned his elbow on the armrest of the chair and ran a hand through his greasy locks of hair.

"Why wouldn't you be able to bare it, Severus?" Inquired Dumbledore rather curiously but in a way that he already seemed to know.

"Harry has a big heart...just like his mother."

"STOP," shouted Severus again. The irked Potion's Master rubbed his temples in a full attempt to sooth his pounding head, but to no avail. It was impossible to think about Lily at a time like this and he couldn't go back to the past; not now, not ever. And that was final.

"Albus, I do not wish to discuss this topic any longer."

"Severus," the headmaster's voice grew stern and he was looking at him just as intently as he was looking at the flames before.

Bleak eyes met the Headmaster's and mixed. The younger wizard face showed only the pain that was suppose to be hidden. Shields that Severus put up were beginning to drastically decline as more twangs of discomfort sported his swallow skin well.

"Harry is not his father, Severus. He is more like his mother than what you give him credit for." Severus looked as if he was going to rebel against the Headmaster's declarations. However, Dumbledore merely chuckled at the younger wizard, Severus curled up his lip in displeasure.

"Yes, in looks he is like James." offered Dumbledore calmly, " Harry is indeed a troublesome Gyriffindor. I do agree with you on that, but you must open your eyes and your mind! The child has a big heart much like Lily. How many times must I tell you this, my boy?"

Severus was staring at the other man in a calculating manner. There was silence between the two until Dumbledore's gaze fell back onto the flames. Severus was beginning to become more susceptible to the overbearing odd feeling fledging full force in his body. The flames were dancing gracefully inside the fireplace and as Dumbledore smiled and Severus frowned miserably.

"How do you know this is so, Headmaster? It is Potter! For heavens sake."

And by damn that blasted old coot's next words made Severus' heart leap so wildly...

"Harry has her eyes, my boy." The response was the crackling of logs....and perhaps the cracking of the severe Potions Master's heart which was sure to be still there...

Then something extrodinary happened as both wizards witnessed the event occur so suddenly. The fire was dieing...

Not only was this true, but the flames were flickering weakly within the ashes which were consuming them. Tiny flames shot up from the bleak ground that they were imprisoned to, struggling with a never ending battle to reach up to the next log. But the tiny flames were failing miserably as they were slowly deflating into nothing.

"Yes," replied Severus impassively before his expression flickered another unknown emotion. This time the odd feeling stayed with him, the one that kept jabbing him in the side as a reminder that not even he could deny the child's eyes.

Yes, Lily's eyes, ones that were once filled to the brim with so much emotion and life. Those green rebellious orbs contained so much joyfulness, playfulness, and an incredible amount of kindness that Snape as a child and an adolescent had taken for granted. Fifteen years after such a beauty had perished, one could only wonder how such lovely eyes die in such a matter in which they did. He needed them still to this day, to see those wonderful orbs shine with life again.

The Potions Professor turned his head towards the dieing flames, the ones that Albus had been gazing solemnly at. The ashes were full of sparks, but the fire.... well it was going out. And so Severus clenched his jaw roughly as a whole new set of eyes began to flash inside his mind from the lights. They weren't Lily's eyes this time...

They belonged to Potter; the dieing eyes...Potter's eyes...

They stared blankly into nothingness. Such eyes were filled with the life much like his mother's own. Now Potter's eyes, Lily's son's eyes, were dull and filled with nothingness...all because of him.

It was his entire fault. How unfortunate was it that Severus could not clenched his jaw tightly enough to keep it from trembling? If only he didn't let his emotions run a muck.
If only he didn't let his shields down. If only he didn't break his promise to protect the boy. If only "If only" was enough for Severus but now it just never will be.

With a flick of the wrist, the disturbed Potion's Master picked up his glass and poured the remainder of his fire whiskey down his throat.

Glaring furiously at the fireplace for smothering the light, his light, Severus drawn out his wand and bellowed a spell that would last.

"Incendio!"

A shot of brightness erupted from the tip of Severus' wand and landed right into the fireplace. A burning light flooded the room as a fire so strong and so large blazed and blasted wildly from within. The flames roared with passion, their warmth radiated against the Potion's Master's face and finally allowed his chest to heave and relax. He then rose up slowly from his chair as he locked his solemn gaze with Dumbledore.

"I believe we shall go attend to Mr. Potter, Headmaster," amended Severus making sure to get rid whatever odd emotion was previously shown on his face. Dumbledore gave his spy an approving look which made Severus cringe, "Poppy is going to be need of a fresh batch of Potions," he quickly recovered, "It would be best to get going as soon as possible."

Oh how he was so done with today...

Dumbledore nodded from his seat, his eyes sparkled all the same from behind those specs. The old coot smiled warmly at Severus as he lifted himself up from the chair and plucked his untouched glass of fire whiskey from the table. He stood beside his spy happily, while all at the same time rising up his glass as if to make a toast to the younger wizard before him. He took a small sip of the whiskey before vanishing it into thin air. Then he met his spy's eyes and held them.

"That'll do, Severus," spoke Dumbledore contently to the other, "That'll do."

He brought up a thin wrinkled hand and placed it reassuringly on the Potions Professor's shoulder who tensed up from the touch but then relaxed suddenly.

Right at that moment Severus Snape knew very well that secret thoughts have been revealed, promises have been made, and plenty of unkempt guilt had been spared. No words had to be exchanged for there was no need to exchange them. Words were meaningless; it was only morals when it came with conversing with Dumbledore.

All Severus knew was he was to be forgiven for his mistake... but for a much greater price. Dread filled him up until he was already to explode, but whatever Potter's condition turns out to be it would be for Severus to burden, and it will be him alone to repair the damage done.

So as the two wizards left Number Twelve Grimmauld Place together, no words were spoken, no looks were exchanged, and the only thing to be heard was silence in itself. It was the way they both liked it, and the way Severus preferred it to be. He closed his eyes to savor the moment of such peace but acknowledged all at the same time that the moment he returned to Hogwarts, it was going to be the last ounce of silence he was going to receive for a long time........

....A very long time indeed.

Lying in the infirmary was a boy. With a clean mop of black messy hair and a lightning bolt shaped scar implanted on his forehead, the Potter brat did not look anything like the same child that Severus had previously held in his arms only a mere hour before. The boy's head was propped up gently against a soft pillow and was blood free. There was no more glass, no more gashes, and no more reddened hair. The cuts were gone and in place of them were small bruises instead. His eyes were black and blue from bleeding eyes, the unfortunate result from his smashed up specs.

A shiver then chilled down Severus' spine at the memory of the boy's crimson tears. All in all though, it was a major relief for the man to see that Potter didn't look like his head had been smashed in by a large glass jar. Now it just looked like he'd been in nothing more than a pitiful quarrel with another student.

Standing beside the resting body were Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. They both glanced up from the boy's unconscious form and widened their eyes measurably shocked at the sight of the return of the old Headmaster. Both of the witches appeared to be having brutal conflicts with their own thoughts as well. From what Severus was able to clearly conclude from observing them, it was about Potter. Poppy's face wore an expression of both relief and of worry, but Severus Snape did not know what side of her he should absorb when she was to announce the updates on Potter's condition.

"Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall. Good evening to you both," said Dumbledore politely as he acknowledged the two witches.

Severus and Dumbledore briskly approached the bed where Potter's body had been placed upon. There they intently studied the boy and decided to ignore the dumbstruck expressions on the two witches' features.  Obviously they were wondering just how Severus was able to retrieve their most valued Headmaster from hiding.

Poppy's diligent job impressed both men; already Severus felt that a huge burden was lifted off of his shoulders when he saw Potter's restored appearance. In silence he watched his companion place a wrinkled hand on the boy's chest as it continued to rise up and fall down in a rhythmic motion.

Poppy cleared her throat waiting to speak. "His bruises will clear up in a few days," said the little medi-witch more solemnly than Severus would have liked to hear. Her small fingers twitched nervously around her wand as she tried to make amends.

 "I am low in my stock of bruising balm unfortunately..."

The Headmaster kindly lifted his eyes up from the unconscious form lying on the cot and smiled back at her. His blue eyes twinkled in that same divine fashion.

"Not to worry, Madam Pomfrey," Dumbledore said reassuring the witch and drawing away his hand from the teenager's chest, "I am ever so sure that Professor Snape will attend to your potion stock as soon as possible."

Dumbledore then fixed his gaze on Severus who was feeling very uncomfortable at the moment. He too was waiting to hear the news on Potter's condition but nodded grimly anyway in acceptance to the headmaster's request. Those stony obsidian eyes never left the unmoving figure below him all the same.

"The boy has subsided thrashing as well," blurted out Poppy. This of course, caused Severus to snap his head up from Potter's form. What else had happened to the boy since his departure? Oh! how the man felt at odds with himself now!

His pale face grew starch white as it stilled with disbelief. 'How could Potter's condition possibly worsen? Thrashing?' the man furiously asked himself. 'The boy was lifeless before I left!'

Those same tunnel black eyes, reflected with something along the lines of bewilderment and of dismay. Apprehension and perhaps even the feeling of concern weren't emotions that Severus Snape, Ex Death Eater, and the most notorious Professor at Hogwarts normally dealt with on a regular basis. It was no wonder why the unexpected situations weren't settling well with him.

In fact, anything that was ever "Potter" related never did settle well with Severus to begin with.

Oh Potter...

How could he not? Severus had looked into the boy's eyes and saw the unexpected. Now such eyes were gone. Before that, while Potter had been snooping around in his memories,  his eyes were filled to their brims with befuddled confusion, disappointment, and something else...something that Severus himself couldn't set apart from the child. Surprising enough, it wasn't all of Lily's eyes that reflected back in the boy's like he had surmised. And to be completely honest, Severus couldn't fully explain the extent to what he had actually seen in them. It was not at all like Lily this time. Although the redhead knew Severus like a book, she could not open her eyes enough to the intensity of the remorse that he has suffered for what he had done by calling her a mudblood..

For failing her competely....

In Potter's ghostly orbs so bright and so acute though was a look that Severus had never seen before, not in Lily's eyes and not in anybody else's. It was a look that somehow showed that they understood.

They had pleaded with him as well...they had begged with Severus to open up his own bitterly, shrouded, dark eyes and to just understand that he wasn't alone, that there was, indeed, somebody else who needed to be understood.  Also, that the 'somebody else' was just as abandoned and just as detached from everything and everyone as he is. So then why did it take till up to this moment precisely for him to finally able to realized what really did happened back in that penesive?

Severus frowned at himself in mutual disgust as he regrettably recalled his previous actions. For Merlin's Sake! He had acted like an ill tempered child by pointing an accusing finger at Potter for something that he himself had done! Not to say that Potter wasn't at times deserving of such blame and that he was indeed still a spoiled, insolent boy, but still...who is Severus to judge at a time like this when Potter is on his deathbed?

He had shaken the poor boy so hard that he had basically forced the fear into those miserable eyes. Eyes in which Severus were certain weren't all Lily's then. In fact, he was certain that the expression of fear on Potters face had once belonged to another boy a long time ago. That particular boy back then, Severus was certain.. was him.

Having not the strength to deny this, all that was left to do was to force Potter to fear him and to never ever look at him in that unreal way again. To not understand Severus was so very easy to do, but Potter wouldn't have any of his Professor's rubbish. No matter how much Severus wished that the boy would remain ignorant of his past, he would not. He understood everything and completely.

"Thrashing?" questioned Severus coolly.

His face remained impassive but his eyes had showed otherwise. The medi-witch sighed in defeat and her expression grew even drearier. It was only then that the Potions Master's face stilled and hardened enough to resemble that of stone. Throughout the matter, the man was gravelly trying to bury the odd feelings away with his lingering thoughts. Severus was getting such horrible vibes from this situation and they were really starting to become very unbearable for him.

"Yes. I had to place a binding charm over his body to cease him from doing harm to himself and I had also given him a calming draft on top of the matter.", explained Poppy, "The poor dear had quite a high fever as well."

Severus glared impatiently at the medi-witch as he crossed his arms over his chest. Was she actually going to do something productive instead of just standing around immobile? His jaw interlocked in place as he scrutinized the resting child properly and made certain that the small chest continued to raise and fall at a steady pace.

‘The boy had ran a fever too?' wondered he, not able to keep away the unwieldy urge to caress Potter in his arms in order to insure that he was safe. For some strange reason, Severus wasn't trusting Poppy's judgment right at the moment.

He must not have been thinking straight either, because within seconds the man had instinctively uncrossed his arms, took a protective hand, and ran his elongated fingers through Potter's messy black mop. With an almost gentle touch, he pushed the dark fringes of hair away from the boy's face and pressed his cool palm against Potter's forehead to feel for heat. What he felt to his dismay, was a rather perspiring sensation which had transfered itself onto his palm like a deadly plague. The boy's head was steaming!

" Oh for merlin's sake, Poppy, he's burning up! Have you not administrated a fever reducer to him yet" snapped the man furiously. Obviously he couldn't stop the boiling concern that was driving him mad.

This had not been the first today that Professor Snape had a staring crowd of imbeciles watching his absurd, inane reactions.

Severus scowled ignoring the gapping fools in the room and instead, focused his attention on Poppy's incompatibilities dealing with Potter. There was no doubt that he should not have left her alone with the boy when she clearly needed some assistance. Potter's case might have been too difficult for Poppy to handle single handily. Even though she was one the best mediwitches that had come to Hogwarts in decades, she could have used Severus' skilled hand.

The woman had done fine jobs with her patients. Potter had been unconscious here numerous times, and there had never been much of a hitch then. Something had to be wrong. Severus supplied most of the witch's potion stocks on a regular basis after all, but could she have possibly run out of fever reducing potion already? The man paused in thought to wonder when the last time that he had supplied her with necessary potions until the scolding voice smacked him out of his senses.

"Well of course I have," rebuked Poppy looking insulted. "But the boy's body has not responded to it as it should. Luckily, his fever did happen to drop a few degrees and he is now in a more stable condition than he has been."

Professor McGonagall, who was standing at the medi-witch's side, appeared to explode with concern for her young, lion cub who was still lying unconsciously before her.

"Poppy flooed me in from my office not too long before your arrivals," informed the older witch. Her square framed glasses gleamed suspiciously at Severus who remained unmoved by her static demeanor.

The older woman's jaw tightened in anticipation, "I do believe that an explanation on the cause of my ward's state is in order, Severus."

Without a doubt, Snape collectively raised an eyebrow at her, his mouth was opened and ready to allow a dry comment easily escape his tongue. However, all action to do so was brought to a halt by the meddlesome old man's raised hand.

"And an exclamation you will receive in due time, Minerva. Questions for Professor Snape about Mr. Potter's accident will be held for a later time of discussion as I must be going soon. Hogwarts is no longer a place to handle Order business effectively," lightly stated the Headmaster with a frown.

Dumbledore then turned to Severus and held his gaze for a moment. Something then had stired inside him. Up till this hour, Severus couldn't understand why he felt this way. He thought that he would be rid of such odd feelings by now, especially after he had his little ‘chat' with Dumbledore. But no, Severus felt those same unyielding, uneasy feelings swirling around provocatively inside his chest. What startled the man most about them was the fact that they were towards James Potter's spawn; the product of his childhood enemy. Still, how could such a boy who was identical to his censurable father in every way by chance worm his way through his own concerns?

"But I do believe that it is wise to use our time conveniently to learn about what has become of young Mr. Potter's state of being. Severus has thoroughly explained to me that the boy's condition is of dire importance and could be quite serious. I must trust his instincts on this matter thus it is the reason why I have returned for this short period of time. Poppy, if you could enlighten us with the specific details regarding young Harry."

Severus was beginning to become impatient as he stood right before the other professors. Certainly this Potions Master did not need to be defended! He gritted his teeth at this, wishing the medi-witch would just explain already; and that the damn guilt that was starting to bubble up again would finally cease to occur. The little medi-witch jumped at Dumbledore's words as she watched the man's wrinkled finger tips make their way down to caress the unconscious boy's hair.

"Certainly, Albus..." Minerva reluctantly bowed her head in acceptance to the Headmaster's request. Now wasn't the time for arguing when her ward's wellbeing was at stake.

Crossed lips twitched into something of a smug smile as the hooked noise man watched the other professor abandon attempt to hammer questioning him. After discarding his ex Professor, Snape distinctively lifted up his chin and waited for the medi-witch to reveal her diagnostic on Potter. Poppy's small beady eyes darted from side to side, making the Potions Master feel even more agitated than he already was from the commotion. His eyes narrowed at her as if he was going to challenge the news that was coming.

The three adults remained silent as they all waited patiently for their nurse to continue on. Poppy set down her wand on the boy's table side and clasped her hands together tightly.

"Mr. Potter is currently suffering from a form severe head trauma. He has quiet a serious concussion I am afraid but nothing that won't heal in due time. There has been excessive damage done to the boy's head, the left side of his body is badly bruised up as well. His brain has suffered a lot of internal bleeding which may have led to permanent damage or even death if Professor Snape hadn't gotten the boy to me in time."

All eyes in the room drifted towards Severus whose own gaze stayed transfixed on the unconscious being below him. His pitiless black orbs filled up with something strong... but alien, and so he had enclosed all thoughts inside himself in order to shield away the dreadful truth, the very thing that was eating away at his conscious mind.

Potter could have died because of him...

Naturally speaking of the boy in dieing matters unsettled the four of them. At this the nurse allowed the silence to stay for a while. Dumbledore withdrew his hand away from the boy's head and brought it to his beard. McGonagall looked crossed and absolutely nonplussed with herself. Severus continued to stare at the child; Lily's son looked more like a child than anything else now as he slept there on the cot so peacefully yet so very much broken.

Out of all of the children that the Potion's Master had came across in all his years of teaching, not a single one of them has unhinged him as much as Potter has. It just happened to be petulant Potter who had the ability to glare daggers at him whenever Severus gave the boy one of his own infamous cold hearted lash of tongue. And how can such a boy be so defiant when Severus' presence alone had the ability to drive his own seventh year Slytherins up a tree? Well... he had endlessly tormented Potter since the boy's first year; maybe he did have his reasons to resent his Potion's Professor despite all that Severus had concluded over the years.

Maybe he was starting to see things all from a different perspective now? He still had to wonder though why the boy didn't fear him in the same manner that his other students do. Severus had to think back for a moment and then out of nowhere, the memory had smacked him in the head more intensely than that jar of dead cockroaches did to the 'boy wonder.' To his discovery, he had stirred up full blown out terror inside the boy only a few hours prior to now. Potter's boyish face was famished in fear even before Severus was about to rip off his arm in the pensieve. He has spun the boy around ruthlessly enough to rack out his brains due to the blissful anger that consumed him....

....and it had been priceless to commit, really.

It was not before long that Poppy awoken Severus out of his thoughts.

"The part of his brain that was bruised was specifically was where all his long term memories are stored," the nurse looked at the other's perplexed looks. Dumbledore's eyes traveled multiple times from beneath his half-moon specs from the boy to Severus. Then the old man did something that left Severus, Poppy and Minerva bemusemed. The Headmaster chuckled.

"Ah," exclaimed Dumbledore. "So I take it that young Harry is going to be rather delirious about his surroundings and the people around him?"

Poppy's lips drew a thin line of worry. "Well yes," she said rather confused by the headmaster's reaction. "But the extent of the memory loss is unknown until he awakens. Mr. Potter seems to be suffering from a muggle condition called amnesia. Luckily, and since it is indeed, a muggle condition, we do have the proper potions to-"

"A memory replenishing potion perhaps would suffice," informed Severus  finally settling into relaxation. Finally. It was about time...

"Of course, certain enhancements can be made to it to insure that we don't have a completely absent minded, blundering Potter brat on our hands," he hinted with a cruel up turn of his lip.

"Yes Professor Snape, a memory potion should be given to him once a week." agreed the finicky witch, more positive than she had been before. "However, we must take caution here, the normal amount of the potion might trigger further bleeding in his brain. A small dosage of a memory potion is acceptable for the end of this week and we will slowly increase the dosage every time afterwards. His mind is still very weak so I do say that it will be for the best if he remains in the infirmary for a few nights so that I can monitor him properly. "

Professor McGonagall came closer to the boy's cot to touch the sweltering forehead in the same fashion that Severus had done before. Only this time there was an addition of affectionately ruffling Potter's dark locks of untamed hair. The corners of her mouth drew a fine line of worry.

"How long, Poppy," inquired Minerva. Her hands trembled as she jostled them around in the boy's messy mop, "How long do you think he is going to be like this?"

Poppy fluttered her eyes lashes rapidly. Nerves were getting the best of her as Severus could see.

"Depending on how much memory he lost, it could be days, weeks...,"the nurse glanced at the Potion's Master and fretted. Severus scruntized his eyes at her not wanting to hear the worst. Poppy continued, "...months, possibly a year even with potions..."

Severus glowered at the women and then down at the boy who was becoming a burden too large to carry. The little pain in the neck was already a dead weight on the man's shoulders enough as it was. He was to protect the boy-who-lived; and this child was somehow supposed to survive to defeat the Dark Lord one day.

And now he had to deal with an even more incompatible, oblivious Potter! The Potion's Master scuffed at his own thoughts. Who knew so much was at state?

‘As if Potter isn't ignorant enough as it is'

"That shall not become an issue," said Severus allowing his voice to become noticeably waspish. "I have ways to enhance the potion so that it will accommodate Potter's condition properly," he declared just as convincingly. He was going to heal the infernal brat as quickly as possible even if it killed him in the process.

The little medi-witch's face tensed, "Well of course, Professor, I am sure that would be highly beneficial for Mr. Potter, but do take precaution. I will want the boy's mind to be completely healed before an updated memory potion is prepared."

Snape raised an approving eyebrow at the witch.

"Of course," Snape said sleekly. He then glanced at Dumbledore who had clasped both hands together and was looking eagerly to each of his companions.

"Very well," joyfully spoken up the Headmaster, "I believe a reviving potion is in order for young Harry. After getting a fair glimpse at his condition we shall see to arrangements for the future. Minerva, Harry's Aunt and Uncle should be notified of the situation. Also, I believe Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley will be concerned for their comrade, please be discrete with them."

"What about Dolores?" McGonagall stated seriously, "She has been after him for weeks."

"Yes, Headmaster I do agree with Minerva on that. Mr. Potter has been acting as a thorn in our new headmistress' side," commented Severus effortlessly. His lip curled up in triumph, "as well as mine."

Honestly, the boy was becoming far more difficult to deal with everyday. A clueless Potter was still a Potter after all.

"Dolores Umbridge shall remain ignorant of his condition. I do have a plan, but Severus, if you please revive our young ward from his slumber first." The older wizard's order did not contain any force, but nevertheless the little charm in his voice did not go unnoticed by Severus.

'Damn it, Albus,' silently scowled the Professor as he emitted a low growl before pulling a small bottle out from his black robes. He held it up for them all to see. Stalking closer to Potter, Severus then carefully maneuvered the boy into a sitting up position. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey came to his assistance with grace.

With two bony fingers, the Potion's Master tilted back the teenager's head and uncorked the tiny vial with his free. In one swift motion, he poured the potion down Potter's throat and coaxed the liquid through to the stomach by rubbing the boy's neck in a downward fashion. After the draft was administrated, Severus stepped back quickly and retreated to the Headmaster's side to view from a distance. Now all they had to do was wait for the results. His stomach launched as Potter became alive, but died inside all the same when a totally different Potter opened those wonderful, emerald eyes.

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

In the darkness, a child thrived. The lost boy sat contently curled up in a ball in his tunnel of darkness, yet he didn't know why. In ways for him, the darkness gave him comfort by hiding him away from all the yelling, all the harmful things that were being said, and the horrid images that were banging on the back doors of his mind.

He couldn't open the doors and let the bad things out. No, no he would not!

They would catch him, kill him perhaps. Bringing pain was what he feared the most, there was nothing but pain that was lurking behind the trecherous doors. Instead, the boy stayed within the shadows where there was nothing. The nothingness welcomed his presence with grace and at least he was safe from the bad things behind those doors. In ways the boy had melted inside the nothingness, he was the nothingness. Then all of a sudden, there was a strange light that was pouring into his tunnel. The boy didn't understand why the brightness was intruding his darkness. He liked his darkness very much, and wanted to stay there. Shadows had promised protection, to kept him unexposed. This light, unfortunately, was way too powerful; it was exposing him, stripping his soul naked.

His head tilted away from the light in protest, he wanted his darkness back! The boy has been in the dark for such a long time, one couldn't want anything to differ! Such things were so confusing. He hated it.

What was even more confusing were the funny shapes that were blurring in his vision; he couldn't see them very well nor was he able make out what the shapes were exactly. Then to his surprise, one of them moved and another one spoke. The boy snapped his eyes open to gasped at the scene presented.

Where was he? What were these... things?

But most importantly...

Who was he?

"Easy there, Harry. My boy, everything is going to be alright," said one of the fuzzy blobs. The boy squinted as he tried to make out the odd purple form. He could tell that it had a large silver beard and that it was older than the rest of them.

But should trust such a strange figure?

"Where are Mr. Potter's glasses?" exclaimed a voice of a sturdy, but aged woman, "Perhaps the child wouldn't be so frightened if he could see us more clearly."

Harry? Mr Potter? Who is that?

The boy felt panic rise up into his chest. Being cornered by all of the strange forms had finally overwhelmed him. Being out of his tunnel just as well had also made him feel so vulnerable and unprotected. He tried to withdraw away from the figures, but to no avail did he.  Another blob came into his view; this one was smaller and spoke in a higher pitched voice.

"On his night table...Here, allow me..."

The small fuzzy form drifted over to they boy's side, plucked something off of the table and reached towards him. The movement had caught him off guard as a hand was placed on his shoulder. Letting out an enormous cry full of fear, the boy then fallen from where he was seated and had landed on his bum with a thud. Luckily, the pain did not travel far. Instead, he kept backing away from the forms until his back felt the solid wall.

‘Trapped' he thought as his heart thumped wildly against his chest.

Green eyes widened in terror as the strange, fuzzy forms enclose on him slowly. His knees were then unconsciously brought to his chest for self protection as wrapped his arms around them. Burying his head between his legs, the 'child' pretended that he was back in his tunnel where he was safe.

But pretending was simply not enough...

He was scared; terrified even, and he was wishing that they would all go away and leave him alone. Being alone was better off for the boy; at least he would be safe. It reminded him so much of his darkness...

"Potter!"

Out from a short distance rang out a voice that was clearly spitting out dislike. The boy lifted up his head from his knees to see where this different voice was coming from. It sounded angry, yet so very upset.

"Stop acting like a fool this instant!" demanded the voice with a sneer, "These people are not here to harm you, Potter!" it roared again.

The form was really angry at him, but then again at the same time it sounded like it was trying to plead. Something started to click within the boy's head about the voice, it sounded so familiar... but also very distant in memory. Still, all the boy wanted to do was bury his head back into the darkness, but then he strongly reconsidered that when he glanced up again to see a figure dressed down in black standing behind the others.

This form was just... different; it just wasn't like the other ones that tried to attack him before. Instead this figure kept its distance, it was as if it had feared the child in someway. That, or resented being near...but why?

The boy squinted his eyes at the form, he could feel that it's own were transfixed on him as well.

There was no doubt he still felt uneasy about this figure and it did not help that he was having a hard time identifying if it was real or not. The black blob was very different than what the other forms were making him feel, probably because it was withdrawn and aloof. How astonishing is this form though? thought the boy as he watched it pace back and forth. It was so strange, yet so very sad...

It was making the child wonder, made him sense what was right... and what was so wrong.

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


Severus just couldn't take anymore of this nonsense. He had it, this was the last straw. He could not stand seeing Potter not acting like his cheeky, Gryffindor self. It was surprisingly unsettling the Potions Professor's nerves to watch the strange boy yelped in fright because of Poppy's movements. Potter had also created a spectacular scene as he scrambled off the bed and cower up against the wall in terror like an abused animal.

By then Severus' temper had already risen to its peak.

Why couldn't the boy just snap out of it? Surely he couldn't have forgotten everything!

Due to Potter's ignorance, Snape had shouted at the child as if it may trigger some sort of spark in his brain, but to his own dismay it did nothing of the sort. Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at his spy, Minerva dropped her jaw and stared dumbstruck by Severus' inane reactions.

"Really? Severus!" scolded Poppy beating the Head of Gyrffindor to the point. The woman looked like she was going to attempt to wash out his mouth with soap, "He doesn't have any memory of any of us! How do you suppose that shouting at the boy is going to get you anywhere with him?"

Severus took in a deep breath to collect and sort out his thoughts. He composed his demeanor brilliantly in order to radiate off that poise.

"Well if you are expecting me to coddle him then you are mistaken," he brandished smoothly.

Bleak eyes then fell down onto Potter who proceeded to cower in the corner and then back at the medi-witch in a mockingly way, "Let this be a reminder that your own attempts at getting anywhere with the boy had failed quite miserably..."

Severus held out his hand beaconing the glasses from Madam Pomfrey who was far too lost for words.

"His glasses, if you may," requested the Potion's Master as he curled his fingers in and out until he saw the women place Potter's specs into his palm. White fingers then enclosed around them as turned his attention towards Potter who seemed to be watching him like that of an baby fawn. What was found was that Potter's questioning expression was studying Severus very intently.

Through the squinting, Potter looked like he was contemplating about what to make of Hogwarts' most feared Potions Professor.

Severus started towards him slowly, for he had not wanted to frighten the boy anymore than he already was. However, as he approached he was beginning to notice that the child didn't fear him at all. In fact, it looked like he was rather... relieved to see that Severus was the one advancing on him and not one of the others.

Green orbs then gazed up at Severus in absolute wonder. The boy had suddenly uncurled himself and maneuvered to sit on his knees all propped up against the wall. The Potions Master cunningly smirked down seeing Potter in such a vulnerable state. The boy hadn't had a clue who he was or who he was dealing with... yet.

Oh, If Severus really wanted to take advantage of the dimwit, now was the time to do it. Potter was in a very weakened state of mind and if he was to face the Dark Lord like this, he would be hit with a the killing curse the moment he set those curious puppy dog eyes on the monster. The thought alone of the Dark Lord finding out about Potter's condition was unbearable within it's self. Severus just couldn't think of what would happen to the boy if such news got out to the cold blooded killer.

"Potter," came his stern voice which was trying to awaken the boy out of a mesmerized gaze.

The Potions master bent down so that he was at eye level with Potter and able to examine the confused face. Not much needed to be studied, Potter just sat there dumbly not knowing what to make of the situation. Severus then brought up his hand that was holding the boy's glasses. Completely uncalled for, Potter let out a short gasp and then backed away from the Potions Master as if he was suffering from a burning hex. Severus frowned down at the child.

Yes... the child.

"Potter..."tried he again, this time his voice soften marginally so that he could effectively ease the boy's nerves, "Potter, you are safe now. Nobody is going to harm you."

Inclining his head to the side, Potter remained puzzled. Severus held his impatience at bay. It was going to take all the self control in the world to contain his every, single urge to bombard insults at Potter in order to wipe that undesirable, ignorance off of the boy's innocent, child like expression.

Unfortunatly, it was easier said then done. Severus was also battling a splitting headache as well.

Wonderful, sarcastically sneered the man, Leave it up to the blasted Potter brat to make me lose such petty battles.

Severus sighed and held out the boy's glasses to him again, seeing that there was not much more left to do.

"Take the glasses, Potter," said Severus sternly. "I am sure that they are more useful to you than they are to me."

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

To the boy's utter amazement, the Dark man, as what the boy had decided upon referring to the man as, was holding out his hand and offering him to take something. He glanced down suspiciously at the man's hand, not very sure that what he was offering him to take was safe.

Although there was something else in the boy that was telling him to not trust this man, and for good reasons!

The boy decided very quickly against such urges and that the trust was strong enough; he then brought up his own hand and reached out. Hesitantly, the boy moved his fingers closer to the Dark man's palm and received the object while being careful to avoid brushing against the other hand. The boy looked at the object through squinting eyes and then gazed back up at the one who offered, unsure of what he wanted him to do with them next.

All questions answered!

"Put them on your eyes, Potter," snarled the man through greasy curtains of hair.

Shrinking back, the boy flinched away from the harsher voice. Why was the dark man being so confusing? He seemed nice when he was calmly explaining that he wasn't going to hurt him and when he offered him glasses. Now he just sounded very ill-tempered and cruel.

The boy then noticed that the man was rubbing his temples and seemed to be intensely drained. Then the sharper voice reverted back to one of a more gentler tone, yet still stern and guiding.

"You will be able to see more clearly if you do"

The boy nodded and silently obeyed the Dark Man as he unfolded the glasses and placed them over his eyes like he was instructed to.

What the glasses did to his vision amazed him. Able to see, the child could not stop the huge grin that was forming. All of the strange figures were no longer blurry blobs. Unfortunately, the man who offered them to him looked anything but happy. The boy could now clearly see that the Dark man was indeed very dark looking. He also had a very morbid appearance, swallow skin, oily black hair that hidden his dreary eyes and rather large beak-like nose.

Why did the man look so sad? The Dark man helped him so that he could see and had also said that nobody was going to hurt him. The boy believe him, so why then did he look so withdrawn, so undone? Had the Dark man wronged the boy in some way? Is that why he looked so sad? The boy couldn't see how this was possible even though this man seemed to be a tad foul and unfeeling.

Still, he most certainly had not done anything to harm him!

The boy's face then relaxed as he glanced around the room to admire his new surroundings. He looked back up at his savior who was no longer kneeling, but standing upright and powerful.

He was tall from what the boy could see, but then again, he himself was still sitting on the floor. He couldn't be certain about how tall the man actually was unless he too stood up. For that reason alone, the boy wearisomely got to his feet, using the wall for support until he was standing fully upright just like his savior was.

When the boy was finally standing he was a little bit disappointed to see that the man had a good amount of height on him. The Dark Man was quite tall and he himself wasn't very tall at all. His savior was pleased though. He had risen one eyebrow to acknowledge the boy's willingness to obey which he seemed to find baffling for some reason. It may have been a reason that the boy at one time might have known but of course had forgotten.

The man then nodded approvingly as the boy took to his side at once. He could clearly see that the corners of his savior's lips had twitched upwards in amusement for only a moment before vanishing. The other beings in the room looked perplexed as well and feeling intimidated by this display, the child stopped following the Dark Man forward. The said child then watched closely as his savior stepped out in front of him in victory. He stuck out his chest with smug pride and tilted back his head in triumph so those glinting black eyes could survey his crowed indifferently.

"I believe...", started the Dark Man pausing to allow his eyes to scrutinize each person coolly through curtains of black greasy hair, "That from the looks of it, all Potter needed was a firm hand. After all..." smoothly stated the man again, "Memory or no memory, Potter is still Potter."

BANG!!

All heads in the room turned abruptly towards a large door to witness it swing open with great force and then slam into the back of the wall. The boy, terrified, wide eyed, and vulnerable had frozen on the spot. Panic seeped through his chest like a wild fire as he watched terrified as an enormous, bloodcurdling, black beast leap into the air and landed with a thud.

Green eyes widened tremendously as his lungs failed to breath for him. The horrid creature bounded into the room like a frantic thing. The shaggy black monster bared its pearly white fangs as it whisked through the aisle ways until it had found the correct route towards them... towards him.

He couldn't escape it; he couldn't escape the fear that began to loudly bang on the back doors inside his head. He needed to hide, somewhere, anywhere that was safe. What he needed was to get away from the rampaging beast and retreat into the darkness!

Amongst the unbearable distress that was gnawing at his intestines, a small but pronounced voice was trying to tell him something else. It was a part of him that he had failed to listen to while he was cowering inside his tunnel. It used to be his entirety, his whole self. Now it was merely a fraction, only a shattered fragment of who he used to be. Sadly, the part of him that wanted to reveal all these things were locked up behind those doors and struggling.

It was trying to tell him the correct ways to react to such fears and that he shouldn't be afraid of the beast, yet he was! How could he not be? The voice inside was warning him from doing the unexpected things as well, they were the things that his instincts were endlessly begging of him to do.

And so this boy, this ‘Potter' done something very unexpected and bizarre of what a Potter would normally not do when he was in his right mind. He cried out for the protection of his most bitter enemy.

Snape.

"SNAPE!" cried out a very hoarse voice of no one other than Harry Potter.

It was the man's name that the boy had somehow heard from behind the doors in his head, and it stuck there and refused to let go.

That name, he knew that name!!

Snape froze, his indifferent expression turned rapidly into a bewildered one. Hooded eyes that once glinted in annoyance then shifted suddenly into that of startled bliss. As he spun around on his heel to stare at the boy, his impassive facade already drenched itself in complete shock with what he had just heard coming from Potter.

The boy, who was more frightened then anything else, found himself flinging his body forward and clutching onto the black, billowing robes for dear life. With no reluctance at all, he buried his face into the man's robes and inhaled deeply to allow the sweet aroma of rue and sage fill his nostrils.

Calming was such a scent, one that was so familiar...

"Potter! What on bloody earth-?!!" but Snape was too absorbed with grabbing Potter's arms to remove them from his robes. He looked caught between the line of disgust and confusion. Not only was he livid, but he was pushing the hysterical child away from him roughly.

He didn't want him...

"NO!" the boy croaked from his voice growing weaker as he begged for protection. The man in black was furious at him now. His pallid face lit up in pure rage which had somehow only made the boy hold onto him tighter.

"Unhand me this instant," spat Snape in a deadly whisper, "You derisory little-"

"PLEASE!" his knuckles turned white as he refused to let go of the fronts of the man's robes. "Just..please..." he said in barely over whisper. This Snape was his last chance...

The raging animal was still coming at them at an alarmingly fast speed and the boy was in need of his darkness, his safe zone. He then gazed deeply into Snape's stony eyes with desperation hanging on a thread . He was searching for something, anything at all... but the man's pallid face was still unmoving and impassive as ever.

The two remained fixed on the spot. The boy remained grabbing onto the fronts of Snape's robes and Snape kept callously staring back at the boy. The only time those unfeeling eyes left him was when they boredly flickered over to the black creature. The said creature within seconds had undergone a swift transformation from beast to man.

Impossible! Then the man who was once a beast, retained the same furious appearance that made the boy be on the verge of tears. He glanced up suddenly to see the man-in-black eyeing him erratically, his calculating gaze flickered back and forth from the wild man back to him multiple times.

Then something changed. There had been something that snapped out of place in the apathetic man's expression. Something was broken. Something else might have been made too, because  just as a sudden sob escaped from the boy's throat, Snape's hooded eyes churned in bewilderment accompanied with some far away longingful look. That stony expression swiftly changed after he closed his eyes defeated at a large. Opening them again, Snape wordlessly nudged the boy behind him. With a touch that was shockingly gentle he allowed the desperate, gripping hands to transfer onto the back of his robes instead of the fronts.

The boy heaved out one last sob, this time he was relieved. He then closed his own eyes, pressed his face into the man's robes, and enjoyed the feel of the soft black fabric rub against his cheek. Enjoying the warmth radiating off of Snape, he pressed himself closer into the man's back to be consumed into darkness again.

The feeling was familiar; yes ,the boy knew that he had felt this way before, yet little pieces of him kept on telling him that this was wrong. At this moment, however, it couldn't have felt anymore right.

The boy was safe, it didn't matter that he didn't know this man Snape nor did he care that the others in the room were arguing. No, it no longer mattered that the strange animal man was blowing up into fits of anger in front of the silver bearded man. It didn't matter that he was speaking frantically of this ‘Harry' person. All that did now was that he, ‘Potter' was well protected by the tranquility of the darkness, his darkness, his Snape.

And that was all that had mattered to him.

Most dogs generally speaking, are docile, loving, and friendly. They would never harm a fly... Well, then again, maybe they might attempt to hurt a flea or an old house cat. Maybe even an old, wrinkly, blue-eyed, extremely powerful Hogwarts Headmaster...oh but no, certainly not a fly...

Dogs are also generally easy to train, yet it still remains a mystery to why they are not popular amongst wizards . Perhaps because all they can learn to do is "Sit" and "Stay." These two commands might have came in handy for Remus Lupin to have his spunky pup know. Unfortunately, some canines aren't so easily handled... especially the big black ones. Especially the dogs that happened to really be wizards just like one Animagus that goes by the name of notorious Sirius Black. Many would have called this so called "dog" barking mad, and this is literally speaking of course....

"WHERE IS MY GODSON?", barked Sirius as he swiftly changed from a beast into a man. His characteristics were still unmistakably canine-like as he continued to flash his pearly white teeth at his new audience.

Not many seconds passed by before a thin, slenderly-built Remus Lupin strode into the infirmary after Sirius as quickly as his tired legs could carry him. He was exhausted, and more so than usual due to the monthly effects of the full moon. An enormous toll had been taken on his body after his transformations from man into wolf and so undergoing such an unpleasant situation only two nights ago was baffling. Especially for him to discover just how much energy he could muster up to chase after Sirius.

"Padfoot, please... let's be... reasonable here!", panted the man exhaustedly from the run while being in all high hopes that Sirius would, and for once in his troublesome life, just bloody listen to him.

"It may not be what it looks like," he added in quickly catching his breath, but not even he could believe his own words no matter how hard he wanted himself too. Everything was exactly what it looked like from here, and it wasn't pleasing either of the two remaining Marauders members.

"WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS--" but Sirius was cut off by a familiar hand from a familiar old man. The meddlesome Headmaster raised his other hand to silence Sirius and with a voice light enough to ease a dragon's rage, spoken to the younger.

 "My boy, please..." said Dumbledore, dressed down in elegant purple robes, who appeared to be  plagued...but Sirius, well....

Remus mused to himself that it looked like his friend had been hit with some bizarre coloring curse when his cheeks began to sport a flashy red hue. Funny that the scene had reminded Remus of a time when he and the rest of the marauders had turned one of their Professor's skin color maroon. Remus himself, would be the brainstormer behind such devious plans, but James and Sirius would be the ones to put their wands to the cause. They three of them (four really if you counted that betrayful rodent) were always constantly getting away with pure murder after performing such pranks on their peers, especially on the Slytherins.

"DON'T YOU EVEN DARE!" erupted the explosion coming from within the frantic man's throat. Remus latched both of his fragile hands onto Sirius' stockier shoulders in a poor attempt to hold him back.

"Sirius..." he warned as he spoke calmly into his friend's ear, "You're temper isn't helping this situation..."

Nevertheless, the Animagus wasn't caring that he was blowing a casket over what was still unknown. He snarled dangerously at the Headmaster as he transfixed his dark eyeballs onto the older one's dazzling blues. Remus could barely stop his hand from quivering as he witnessed a deadly snarl form on the other's lips.

"Not now, Mooney" barked the dog without sparing his friend a single glance.

More like 'not ever' and Remus scuffed at such a thought; How could he assume that his best mate was going to listen to him? Certainly this would be a first if the stubborn man decided upon this act! Remus placed a sweaty palm on his forehead to swab away the tiny droplets of sweat that have been accumulating bellow his swollen, sunken eyes. Ignoring the pangs of exhaustion that were plaguing his body, his primal intentions were to ignore them in order to restrain Sirius.

Then with a heavy heart (and a heavy, tired frame of mind) he reconsidered only to decide that he might as well allow his wild black dog run a muck until he could regain his strength.  After all, it would be undeviatingly impossible put a leash on the beast in some sad effort to control it. Yet this particular beast was no monster really but a man with a heart too big for his body. Indubitably, yes, his friend could be more thick headed than a troll at times, but at least he has good intentions. All and all, Sirius has always been a man known for taking action for what he dearly believed in, even despite how often he would act irrationally through such motives.

It had to be frustrating both of them to know of something so tragic had occurred and  have no idea how it could. For all that Remus knew, who was to blame Sirius for boiling over? Being forced to go into hiding could really put a strain on a wizard, especially a godfather of the Boy-Who-Lived. Remus, being more logically advanced than the other, had disagreed with his friend's not- too-clever decision. Choosing to go out into the open was a huge risk, Sirius could easily get caught and sent back to Azkabam. That or worse; the Dementor's Kiss could surely be arranged.

Remus trusted his friend enough to know that Sirius knew better, and that he would not take a risk that tremendous. But Harry needed them now more than ever, and Sirius would risk it all just to make sure that his godson was safe.

Mooney's spine suddenly became lots stiffer thinking about what had just happened to James' son, and Sirius' notorious question was enough to make a shiver run down his backbone all the same.

"Where is he, Dumbledore."

It was a simple question really, and there should of been a simple answer as well. Remus was an intelligent man, he knew he could put the puzzle pieces together if he put his mind to it. Unfortunately the way that Dumbledore was looking at them was making his stomach drop fifty feet. There was a piece missing from this puzzle for sure. One was able to conclude right off the thicket that something was very, seriously off.

'Where is Harry? What else does Albus know that we don't?'

His friend was clawing madly at his robe for his pocketed wand and Remus knew that at the rate they were going, they were never going find out what happened to Harry. Let alone would they get to see him.

"Padfoot" tried Remus again cautiously as he squeezed the man's shoulder as an attempt to grab his attention, "Sirius, maybe we should hear what the Headmaster has to say..."

But he didn't have to say a thing. Sirius Black pointed an accusing finger at the old man before them all and fixed his commencing gaze back to Mooney. His long, messy hair fell over his face in the same fashion as what it had done throughout all of his years locked up in Azkabam. Strangely enough, the deranged man looked like the psychopath everyone in the wizarding world claimed him being. Not only did he look like he was going barmy, but Sirius was also wild enough to hex the next thing that moved. More importantly: he was ravenous for revenge.

"I don't care..." panted Sirius heavily, "...what he has to say..."

Remus sighed to himself as he clasped the other's shoulder more roughly than before, but Padfoot remained aloof to his touch. The grizzly, wild fringes fell over his graying eyes which glinted in pure madness. It was remarkable how Dumbledore remained so unnerved by the situation, yet seemed to be incredibly remorseful all the same. Remus, as tired and worn out as he was, grew noticeably more jitterier as the minutes passed by. Dread couldn't even begin to describe what Remus was feeling at the moment.

Dumbeldore's old blue irises sparkled behind the trademark half moon spectacles, "I do assure you both that Harry is in fact, unharmed," began the Headmaster slowly with a sincere smile planted wryly across his face.

Remus dropped his shoulders in relief but at the same time felt great tension building up inside the room. Everything felt rigid, his enhanced hearing was able to pick up the staggered breathing being emitted by his best mate who was looking ready to commit a murder that he was unjustly charged for. Remus watched in amazement as Sirius' face churned from a deep, lavish red color to one that was starch white and chalky. His body was trembling, his eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and his cheeks were so pinched inside his mouth that they were most likely gushing out blood.

"You..." growled Padfoot in a maliciously low voice, "You're full of lies, Dumbledore."

Behind the controlled exterior of the Headmaster was a hint of uneasiness. This stuck Remus hard as he noticed that Professor McGonagall shifted her stance as if she too knew more than they. The abrupt halt of the clinking of calming draft vials alerted both men that Poppy was disturbed as well. Remus stared wide eyed at Dumbeldore and at the rest of the staff that was in the room. Having had glanced anxiously from the Headmaster to Professor McGonagall to Madam Pomfrey in an absolute questioning way, Remus could only wonder what transpired before hand.

Sirius wasn't done yet either as his chest continued to heave up and down rapidly from his previous antics. Small beads of sweat were forming on the top of his head and trickling down to his steel gray eyes.

"Tell me, headmaster..." continued Sirius as those provoked orbs shifted over momentarily to an overly, heart-wrenched Remus, "If I haven't encountered my house elf any sooner..."

The room grew quieter, and even Remus didn't have any words of comfort that could counter the shocking discovery that was made only mere moments ago back at headquarters. Sirius was speaking for both of them now.

"Would you have told us?" interrogated the man, "Harry is all Remus and I have left of James and Lily, and if anything-" but Sirius couldn't bring himself to say what he wanted to. All his body could do was quake in anger, fear, and too many other raw emotions which were becoming more increasingly impossible to pinpoint.

But the words were not lost, for Intelligent Mooney was able to fill in the blanks...'If anything ever happened to that boy...'

Oh! Remus wouldn't be able to take it or think about it without feeling sick to his stomach. He would be at such an enormous loss if he lost Harry--both he and Sirius would be.

Remus had many terrible regrets though, almost as many as Sirius had for not being there prior to Harry's third year. It just so happened that placing a baby, (especially if that baby happened to be the boy-who-lived) in the care of a werewolf during that time wasn't the best idea in the book. Remus would have eagerly taken the boy in gracefully if it was legal, but werewolves by law weren't allowed to have children unless under certain circumstances and Magical Research according to the Ministry of Magic. Harry would have had to be cared for by a non-werewolf guardian as well, and so this made it impossible. Sirius was sent off to Azkaban during that time and Remus did not necessarily "meet" anybody who would of been able to play the part as a "mother" to Harry. Even now, if he actually did happen to meet someone during such a later point in his life it would be way too late. Not for nothing, but Harry is a young man of fifteen.

The situation had jerked Remus out of such fantasy.

"Kreacher has alerted us about Harry's state, Headmaster," offered Remus with a heavy heart and a voice containing more malice than he intended.

He frowned in displeasure, silently recalling what had occurred before. Remus had been on his way to leave Number 12 Grimmald place when all of a sudden, a loud crashing noise and an enraged holler echoed through the hallways. Caught by surprise, he had spun around to find a raving Sirius Black dragging his house elf down the stairs by the ear. Remus was even more shocked when the man had failed to acknowledge him in the room and instead, started to strangle the miserable creature up against a wall. Rushing over to Sirius, he had succeeded in calming his friend before he had the opportunity murdered the pathetic thing. The good deed, however, undone him in the end. It was such a mishap to have to suffer at his own expense, only to discover the cause to what was driving the other man completely bonkers.

The discovery was as cut dry as bread: Harry was in trouble and they weren't going to be told a thing about it.

Sirius snapped his eyes open at his friend's statement and glowered with pure frustration. "...Alerted us? Mooney, you must be going mad! I had to strangle that piece of filth before I even got a damn word out of him."

Remus sighed and gave his friend a reproving look before turning back to the other, "What Sirius means, Headmaster, is that Kreacher was very... vague on the details about what happened to Harry in which we would like to know more about."

Remus cocked his head suspiciously at the wise old man, and from doing so, became aware that Dumbledore knew way more than he was letting on. Remus was tired, so very tired, but his mind was crazed with worried thoughts. Never mind his previous wails about Harry being all they had left, they themselves were all the boy had left as well!

"And you will momentarily be given that information, my dear boys," nonchalantly replied Dumbledore who was now turning to Professor McGonagall with his hands clasped merrily together.

Their old Transfiguration Professor who was also the Head of Gryffindor, kept glancing repeatedly at the clock hanging over head. It read a quarter to ten precisely, and because it was so late Poppy had also dimmed down the lights considerably until they were all engulfed in darkness. The little medi-witch then returned to the group with a tray of calming drafts and other potions.

"Minerva, if you wish to be excused from further discussion you have my permission. I understand that you do have other important matters to take care of. I will have Poppy or Severus alert you of any further changes to Harry's condition."

Remus' drooping eyes snapped open with confusion and great interest.

'Snape is here too? And... wait...what condition?'

He then inclined his head around the Headmaster to catch sight of a man melting away into the darkness of the room. Dressed down entirely in those infamous black robes, with cold tunnel black eyes, and greasy black curtains for hair, was Severus Snape. Characteristically, the wizard was away from the group and standing off by himself in the background. Remus, however, wasn't looking entirely at Snape as it wasn't he who caught his eye, but, at what the man was standing next to; a very messy, unmade infirmary bed.

"His condition?" inquired Remus curiously as he turned back to Dumbledore thinking that he hadn't heard correctly.

 He then looked around to all of the staff for answers, minus Minerva who had flooed herself back to her office. His eyes even glanced back at the aloof Severus Snape who he spotted lurking in the shadows of the infirmary. Merlin, what a mistake that was. He had suffered an unpleasant sensation instead of a response from the man. For the moment that their gazes interlocked dreary chills zoomed up Remus' spine immediately from such penetrating orbs. They were ones that gave him no lead way to what was going on, and thus were no help to the exhausted man. He could sense that the snarky Potions Master didn't want to give away anything, and it was frustrating enough as it was that Remus didn't have a single clue about what happened to Harry.

The Headmaster lifted up his chin and nodded slowly, "Yes, his condition," confirmed Dumbledore solemnly. Remus felt his stomach sink lower into his aching guts as the old man continued.

"It seems that our young Harry has had an accident in Professor Snape's office before his Occulumency lesson. He now has no memory of the incident, nor does he know who we are or where he is. I do not believe that the poor boy can even recall his own name, so if you two will kindly take caution approaching him--"

Of course Sirius didn't allow Dumbledore to finish speaking as he launched himself forward and broke away from Remus' flaky grip. Sorely believing that his friend was going to attack the old headmaster, Remus flung himself after Sirius to try to stop him before...

"SIRIUS!" he bellowed trying desperately to hold back his friend's antics, but the dog had ignored Remus and bitterly whipped out his wand instead.

 However, it wasn't Dumbledore who the seething man was after. Certainly not! Remus' wolfish eyes widened in surprise as he watched in horror as Sirius pushed past the Headmaster and headed straight towards the back of the room. There he headed towards a certain man, one who was dressed in black robes. It was a certain Head of Slytherin who remained standing next to a certain unmade bed, one with white sheets belonging to a certain somebody...

Remus dropped both arms in defeat as he thought back to what Dumbledore had just told them. His mind was racing now, yet nothing was adding up.

An accident...a condition...memory loss...

Suddenly everything was clear as Remus failed to suppress his shock. A few mumbled words could barely be heard from his parched thin lips as he squinted his eyes enough to see a mop of black hair huddling behind Snape's darker form.

Could it be?

But Sirius didn't see the boy there...

His mouth was bone dry; he needed water, in fact he needed to sit down as he was feeling so faint that he thought he might pass out.

"Sweet Merlin...Harry..."

........

A Potions Master's excellent hearing always comes in handy for crucial moments such as these. The corners of Severus' lips twitched up in glee as he heard the dumbstruck Lupin mumble through his awe. The werewolf looked shocked to the core in fact; more likewise as if something bizarre had smacked him squarely in his chest. Being able to tell that Lupin had finally figured it out that Potter was hiding from them all in fear, Severus could not swallow his pride. What a pity that it was too late for his old nemesis to finally discover what was going on.

'And this was one of Gryffindor's brighter students...' Sarcastically thought Severus as he observed the mangy werewolf from a far.

Then suddenly his individual attention was drawn away from the flabbergasted werewolf when he felt a slight tugging on the back of his lengthy, bellowing black attire. Without moving a muscle, the Potions Master averted his cold, calloused eyes downward at the source of such pulling. From the corners of his pupil he could see that the mindless Potter was no longer standing up cowering from behind Severus like he previously had been doing. The senseless boy was now kneeling down, curled up into a tight ball on the floor, and was disparately clenching onto Severus' adorning black robes as if his life depended sorely upon it. He then grasped them harder, tugging them in downward motion similar to that of a child demanding to be held. The boy, to Severus' greatest discomfort, was attempting to wrap himself underneath his black attire to seek comfort.

"Potter, I highly suggest you make an effort to contain yourself at once," scolded Severus in a voice that was deadly calm. Reinforcing the reprimand, the Potions Master narrowed his bleak eyes terribly and roughly yanked the robe away from the child's grip.

Potter, or rather "the child", looked like he was at a loss with himself as he gazed, dazedly with great betrayal written all over his young face. Snape's lips were drawn in a fine, thin line as he tried to hide the frown that was forming from watching the boy cringe in such fear.

How strange was this that Potter was so... attached to him. It was atypical nature of a Potter and as the offspring of one, it should have been forbidden for the child to console in Severus the snarky Potions Professor that was reviled by many. In Potters right mind (or at least as right as his pea brains could allow) this boy would never go looking for comfort in his most hated Hogwarts Professor no matter what the cost was. This, of course, was why it was so strange...even with Potter's proclaimed loss of memory for such a bond to occur at all.

It would seem that Potter, the one who Severus had belittled for the past five years, would have rather chosen death over trying to find safety behind his worst enemy's back. What was even more bizarre and completely absurd about the whole situation was that the boy had--within the crevices of his own mind--somehow remembered that Severus was "Snape."

Severus had to admit it, but even he was a little caught off guard by Potter's unexpected outburst.

Yet, something was still completely off about the little brainwave that the boy had likely experienced. Potter had frantically called out Severus' name as if he was under attack. The way he had called him "Snape" was alarming and well...not very like Potter at all. His eyes were blazing in fear instead of that unconquerable, detestable courage that was normally there. Then there was the immediate need of protection which Potter displayed better than an abused puppy. At first Severus was angry at the boy. He had been absolutely livid believing that Potter was going out of the way to try to embarrass him. After Severus concluded that perhaps the child had been gaining back some memory after all, he had hoped that Potter had actually remembered more than that Severus was "Snape."

Oh, but how he thought wrong...so very very wrong.

.......

Sirius' haunted expression was restored back to a flushed crimson red color as he approached his childhood enemy at an alarmingly fast speed. His livid expression held nothing but pure loathing for the snarky, greasy-haired git.

"Snivellus" glowered Sirius with much hatred intended as he raised his wand.

With keen canine instincts, he watched Snape intensely as the man's lanky fingers disappeared into the dark robes. The sodding Potion's Master that Sirius had grown to hate over the progressing years smoothly removed his own wand from his pocket just as predicted.

"I should have suspected that you had something to do with this!" roared Sirius again at the hooked nosed man who had counted him by raising a single distinctive eyebrow.

On the downside, Snape appeared rather too smug for his own good.

 "Is that so, Black?" challenged the man with a pronounced sneer, "Why not blame the godfather who was...ahh yes...hand picked from the litter of marauder mutts by the infamous James Potter to insure the survival of his pup?"

Leave it to Snape to be vindictive as always...

Sirius let out a vicious growl and flashed his fangs once more. During this he continued to endlessly resisted the urge to transform into the beast he just was in order to be able rip the egoistic grin off of Snape's appalling features. Unbearable heat then began to prickle on the back of the man's sweltering neck as his fingers twisted around his wand eagerly  ready to throw any Unforgivable curse at the slimy bastard across from him.

Snape didn't seem to mind Black's flaring form, however, as he lifted up his chin in triumph. Letting out a chuckle Snape's sly comment prevailed to sting effortlessly.

 "Or was the responsibility too much for you to handle?" whispered the man sleekly to an enraged Sirius.  "Seeing how blatantly irresponsible you are for your own doltish actions it is really no surprise that your godson got into enough mischief to erase every single pathetic memory that he held so dear of you and your werewolf friend."

After that sneered out comment, Sirius was ready to hex the git to hell. How dare he talk about Harry in such a matter and how dare that greasy bastard talk ill about Remus!

That hooked nosed, overgrown bat of the dungeons seriously had it coming to him now, and that was for sure!

"I've warned you, Snivillus.." Sirius snarled, "I've warned you before that if anything happens to Harry, you will have me to answer to."

Sirius was shaking now, he wasn't sure if it was from his seething anger being directed at Snape and his lousy insults or from his overbearing concerns for his godchild who he still did not yet see. At the moment, he couldn't decide on which emotion he was feeling more of, but as his eyelashes flashed maliciously at Snape the decision became suddenly very easy for him...Too easy in fact...

"I'll do anything to insure that Harry is safe, and that means safe from you!"

He flushed an even deeper crimson color, almost purple as he raised his wand higher and aimed it squarely at Snape's enormous hooked beak.

"And I mean anything," enforced Sirius as he glared deadly daggers at his nemesis.

 And just as the muggles say..if looks could kill Snape would have dropped dead in the matter of seconds and then would proceed to burst into a heap of flames. Of course naturally, and to Sirius' dismay, the Slyterin man had remained perfectly untouched by the threat.

Although his enemy did seemed rather unshaken by the situation set in front of his enormous enlarged beak, there was still certainly something abnormal that Sirius could detect stirring around Snape's insides. For only a split second, his enemy's charcoal, bleak eyes which were normally as hard as stone had glinted in sudden alarm.

'So I did happen to frighten the coward, after all'. Figured Sirius with a smirk, 'The sniveling bastard...'

Standing up tall, it was now his turn to bask himself in victory at what was won, but Snape nonchalantly waved his accomplished expression away with a free hand. The look of unease faded as quickly as it arrived which gave Sirius no time to pick open at the tortured man's old wounds.

"How very touching," commented Snape dryly, "However, it is... imaginable to find that your words hold little veracity Black, because as narrow minded as you are, I find it impossible that you are capable of doing anything...." Snape's tone was deadly as he put deliberate stress on the next words.

 "To me...for the Order..." the corners of Snape's lips curled up in amusement, "Or even for your precious godson. That is of course, considering the quite pathetic little situation you've gotten your sorry self into."

Sirius' already reddened face flushed deeper from the embarrassment as Snape's words stung him sour.

"Bullocks!" Sirius rebuked angrily, "We all know that your situation is far more pathetic than mine... isn't that so Snape?" snarled Sirius with a vicious grin. His was so livid that he could barely speak without making his words bite, "You. and Voldemort. must be getting on pretty well together, aren't you? Death Eater."

Now it was Snape's turn to be embarrassed. Those high, very pronounced cheekbones flushed a lovely light pink. Sirius chuckled maliciously at the sight of the other and spoke to him in a taunting voice that was not much louder than a mere whisper.

"So how many casualties today, Ol Snivley? Five, ten...fifteen maybe? Perhaps Harry was going to be one of them. I bet your master is going to be anything but pleased with you that you've failed him."

The greasy-haired man crossed his arms against his chest and emitted a very low but audible growl. His impenetrable eyes narrowed in scrutiny at the other.

"Careful, Black," warned Snape. Now it was Sirius who raised an eyebrow.

He didn't even bother to lower his wand seeing that Snape too was already in attack mode. Remus called out his name once again and pleaded for him to back down. Sirius,  just as always, had ignored his friend even though he was fully aware that 'enough was enough' for Remus.

"C'mon Padfoot. Are we here to get in a row with Snape or are we here to see Harry?"

Then it hit him. Hard. His eyes widened at mentioning of the boy's name. It was James' son, his godchild. If Sirius had been in his Anamigus form he would have whimpered aloud after hearing it.

Harry...

"I'm done playing games with you, Snape. I suggest you start telling me where my godson is. That or else I'll take matters into my own hands," Sirius said stepping forward so that he and Snape were now squaring each other up.

Both wands were still pointing at the other's chest. Sirius watched in glee as Snape had to tilt his head slightly back so that he could meet his eyes. Sirius did in fact, have a few good inches on his opponent. However, to his own dismay this fact didn't seem to faze Slytherin's Head of House at all.

"Alright, Black," said Snape with a devious grin, "I'll tell you where your precious Potter is."

The Potion's Master looked as if he knew when the world was going to end...for Sirius that is... A wave of panic could not be any more apparent as he cocked his head to the side and glared at his childhood enemy very suspiciously.

What is Snape up to?

This man was not one to be trusted, and Sirius still to this day could not believe why Albus felt honored to have him in the Order. What did the greasy-haired bastard ever do to deserve such trust from such a powerful wizard like Dumbledore? Snape was originally Voldemort's lackey of all things. How was it so easy for him to reform? Snivillus Snape, Dumbledore's man or Voldemort's servant? It didn't make sense at all nor did it add up. The thought alone of Snape being "trustworthy" made Sirius have the sudden desire to vomit.

The man's eyes lit up with interest as he saw Snape appearing more pretentious than he normally did. Something just wasn't right.

"I find it a shame though that you remarkably failed to realize that Potter..." started Snape with a twisted smirk, "...happens to be right in front of your very nose."

With those few words said, Snape glanced over his shoulder and caused Sirius to absentmindedly perked up intrigued. Then, as if it was a curtain call, the Potion's Master stepped casually to the side only to reveal a hunched figure of that of a teenage boy.

This "boy" was clutching furiously at Snape's billowing black robes. This "boy" was hiding behind him like that of a wounded animal. This boy...it just can't be...

Sirius pocketed his wand right away after seeing that this cowering form was no other than the child he was seeking.

Oh but it is...

Sirius knew that that black, messy clump of hair could only belong to one child. Actually, now that he thought about it, that hair could have belonged to two children. This particular black raven colored hair once belonged to his best mate James, but it wasn't him for he was in a better place now... it had to be the other child...and it was!

"Harry!" exclaimed Sirius in relief, yet something was still keeping him uneasy and well on the edge of the cliff that he felt like he had just climbed just to see his godchild.

Sirius was still unsure. He didn't want to believe that Harry didn't know who he was. Perhaps if he tried to jog the boy's memory a little bit first he would remember. Harry  didn't dare to look up as he called out his name. Instead, the boy who Sirius was so certain was his Harry, buried his face deeper into the black robes of his old childhood nemesis, Snape.

Well this is new... thought Sirius as his stomach contorted in nervous twitches. Even if Harry had lost his memory, why would he be latched onto Snape and not onto him? After all he is the nicer one out of the two.

Something isn't right...but...

Did it really matter?  Sure Harry was clinging onto Snape as if his life depended on it, but he is alive. He was unharmed, safe and in the land of the living and as long as he was, everything was going to be okay... right?

Harry was just a little frightened from what had happened, right? He didn't really lose all his memories... right?

But of course he had...

"Harry?"

The boy was almost kneeling on the floor as he held onto dear Snape's fabrics. Sirius ignored the man who he so blindly hated completely, as he cautiously moved closer to his godson not intending to startle him but wanting him safe in his arms nonetheless. However, from the looks of it, the boy didn't want that.

Then suddenly it mattered.

"Harry, it's me! It's Sirius!"

Everything mattered because something was terribly wrong with everything. Harry wouldn't acknowledge him; yes, he knew the memory wasn't there but the boy wouldn't spare him even a single glance! The worst of it was that his best mate's son was literally clinging onto Voldmort's most trusted Death Eater follower like a life source. Everything was spinning upside down and inside out and Sirius couldn't help but wonder what the wizarding world was coming to. Perhaps Snape would shampoo his hair next! and then what? Maybe Remus would transform into a white, fluffy rabbit the next time the full moon is aroused!

"Harry... Do you hear me, Harry?"

He was trying to remain calm, but Sirius Black wasn't known for his tranquility. Instead of producing a relaxing air in front of his oblivious godchild, he flew into a frenzy. Without much thought about what was going on, he had then lowered himself and reached out to grab Harry's shoulder.

The boy's reaction was uncalled for as he snapped up his head from his knees and spun around acting as if he was going to be killed at any second. He let out an unexpected gasp of surprise and then had shyed away from Sirius' touch as if he had been poisoned.

Harry's white knuckles released his protector's robes at once as Sirius was hoping he would do, but only to his confusion did the boy retreat to the other side of the room away from them all. More importantly, away from him. He was standing up against the wall, wide eyed, and with glasses askew on his pale face stared at Sirius like he done years ago before they've met and when Harry first presumed him as a murderer.

Sirius was even more confused when Snape actually snapped at him for touching Harry. Yes, for touching his own godchild! Since when had Snape become so concerned for the son of James Potter?

"Black! How incredibly thick-headed are you? Potter is delirious, caution was advised. Although, I can assume you are worse off than the child is as you continue to ignore the fact that Potter has lost his mind, you dunderhead!" unkindly snapped the irritated Professor. The man then proceeded to annihilate Sirius with a hard, cold glare that was normally reserved for his students.

"The Headmaster's warnings shall not be taken lightly."

Lightly? All Sirius wanted was for his godchild to acknowledge his existence without fear. Was there a crime in that? "Oh what do you know, Snape!" lashed out Sirius nastily, "It's not like you care about Harry anyway."

But as Sirius silently dared for Snape to comment, he did nothing of the sort. No, to the man's own confusion, his enemy was no longer staring at him with malice in his eyes. Instead the expression had swiveled into something that he, Sirius was unprepared to see. Callous, penetrating black orbs had snapped all attention back onto the cowering child, Sirius' godson. However, what the man saw in those normal impassive eyes was not quite right, it was like something had changed there, and that "something" was what Sirius had dreaded seeing from Snape since he was a boy....

That perhaps something human actually existed there all along.

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

Emerald green eyes contacted with dark yet swirling black ones as he tried to tell the Man-in-Black, Snape, to help him. The Dog-Man was talking very harshly to "his" Snape and right away the boy knew that he couldn't trust this strange man. This boy wasn't sure what else he could do to make him go away other than huddle up against the wall.

"Harry, it's me Padfoot! Your Godfather Sirius Black! Don't you remember me? Snuffles? What about Buckbeak? Don't you remember him? "

The Dog-Man was speaking softly to him now and this was also confusing. Also, this man was calling him "Harry" and not "Potter" like Snape had called him before. This was confounding as well. What was even more odd about this man was that he would start fighting with the Man-in-Black and then he would start talking nicely to the boy. "Harry" didn't know what to make of this Sirius Black. The Dog-Man looked so distraught and defeated, yet angry and sour after the boy shook his head, indicating no and that he did not remember him. Harry (or Potter was it?) could not recall any man named Padfoot nor that he had a Godfather named Sirius Black no matter how hard he tried too.

And this was scaring him...

"Oh Harry...Harry I..." the stranger's face which was so lost, had scrunched up in frustration, "I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

But the promise wasn't enough for Harry, and to make this known he had recoiled away from the Dog-Man like a snake as the out stretched hand of the other reached for him.

"You can trust me. We're buddies you and me...you rescued me in your third year from the dementors, surly you must remember," tried the man Sirius, pleading with hope; his voice was slowly diminishing into nothing as Harry showed no signs of recognition.

Shaking his head again, Harry pressed his back harder against the back wall. Tears of terror were stinging his eyes and were screaming at the stranger to leave him be, alone, and with Snape. He couldn't trust him, the strangeness was just too much to handle. Surely, no man on Earth who had the ability to change from a black beast into a man could ever be trusted. Harry couldn't go by these promises from such a stranger.

The Dog-Man went very quiet suddenly as if he too knew that his attempts to get closer to Harry were in vain. The man lifted up a hand to try to reach out again but Harry's eyes told him to stay away.

Far away....

He told him with his eyes just as he done before when he asked Snape to help him. The boy, panic stricken, and very much afraid, pressed his back further into the wall imagining that he could just melt away into its hard surface. Behind the Dog-Man who looked as if he had just been torn into shreds, stood the Man-in-Black who was intently watching the scene with a hint of glee in his expression. The White-Bearded-Man was coming up behind Harry's savior; however his face was frowning in disappointment.  The Shaggy-Man and the Little-Lady stood off to the side with glass vials in both of their hands.

Harry watched every movement that the strangers made, especially the White-Bearded-Man who was dressed down in lavish purple robes, a matching purple pointed hat on top of his head, and half moon specs that traced the wrinkles around his blue eyes. Luckily, this old man seemed to want to help him as he cleared his throat sensing that the boy was distressed.

"Sirius, young Harry here has had a rough night. For the child's welfare I highly suggest that for the meantime, we leave him be with Severus and Madam Promfey to see to his proper care. I promise that there will be plenty more opportunities to visit once the boy has recovered some. "

The Dog-Man swiveled his head to the side, the flame inside him was gone. His eyes looked dead and his voice was no longer violent as it was before when he was screaming at the White-Bearded-Man and at Snape.

"I'm done taking your suggestions, Dumbledore," said the Dog-Man in a voice that was dull and zombie like, "I just don't give a damn what you or anyone else thinks. He's my godson."

Harry, still pressed up against the wall, wrinkled up his forehead clearly overwhelmed by what was going on around him. Then the boy watched in amazement as the Shaggy-Man then rounded on the Dog-Man at a lightning fast speed. To Harry's own surprise and to that of the rest of the strangers' in the room, the Shaggy-Man grabbed firmly onto the other man's broad shoulders and had forcefully spun him around. With a strength that seemed to come out of nowhere from this tattered man's weak appearance came a vicious wolf like snarl.

"Padfoot! Enough! Stop being such a sodding git and just listen for once, you stubborn fool. Just listen will you? "

This Padfoot gazed at the other in shock as his face paled multiple shades whiter than it already was. Stunned, the Dog-Man's face drew a blank but then suddenly it had flushed a sheepish smile. The man's eyes were now smiling playfully as well as he clasped the other on the back. Being physically smaller then the Dog man, the shaggy clad had flinched from the contact, which led to him rubbing at his newly sore shoulder.

"Well why didn't you just say so, Mooney," teased Sirius with a silly grin, "Dogs have a great sense of hearing do they not?"

Even though Harry had no idea who these two men were, he could see that they were best mates. From the looks of it, the two of them seemed like they have been friends forever. But why did they called each other different names? previously Harry thought they were; Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Now they were Padfoot and Mooney!??! The boy wondered for a moment if he himself was more than just "Harry" or "Potter." Did he have such nicknames like they did? The Shaggy-Man called 'Mooney' or rather 'Remus' then narrowed his gaze at his comrade only to let out a deep sigh as he cocked his head to the side. With an expression much lighter than before, as Harry noticed, had still retained much sourness.

"Well then you are the most deafened mutt that i've ever encountered in my life, and a complete berk on that note...", retorted the man in a friendly form of sarcasm.

Sirius picked up on the hint, grinned and chuckled softly, "You're a flattering one, mate, that you are." but then he suddenly became serious. His voice was low and full of gloom and hopelessness. The change in character was a shock to the unknowing child.

"Remus," said Sirius in a voice barely audible for the boy to hear, "He isn't our Harry."

There was sadness, and much of it. Why was he so sad? Why couldn't he, Harry...or Potter... understand anything? Were these two men blaming him for not being their Harry because he wanted to hide in the darkness instead? Is this why the Dog-Man tried to attack him? Was it because the boy wasn't answering the banging doors in his mind? Was this why he kept staring at Harry distastefully when he was tugging on Snape's robes? Questions, he had so many of them but the answers were still locked away inside his mind just waiting to be found.

The boy's throat became dry as bone from misuse as he opened it to attempt to say something intelligible that would matter to them. Wanting to say a bunch of things but not knowing how to, Harry stammered. Those things were bunching together much too quickly for the boy to hold onto and they faded away just as quickly as they came. Bunches of all sorts attacked his mind in flashes of pictures--memories one might call them. It was as if certain thoughts were being compressed so much that they couldn't be depicted into words or pictures that were dying to be seen or heard. It was like pouring marbles into a jar without a bottom. It was frustrating enough that Harry's mind was screaming to express such alien thoughts. "I am yours!" it would scream as it fell into a bottomless pit. "I'm still here!" it shouted; yet such thoughts that couldn't form into words could only be articulated into moans.

There were plenty of those, and groaning, and whimpering coming out of the child's throat. There were voices, plenty of voices thundering in his brain, crawling through the cracks of the door like a swarm of insects.  The pounding in his head was indescribable, he needed to say the what use to matter, words that still do, and feelings that mattered to all of them, the ones who mattered, or those that used too.

There was a word...it was a simple word, it was petty, but it was completely necessary for one who needed it to matter the most

"Help"

There was a word...

'Help'

It wasn't much of a word, it was pleading, yet it was still a word nonetheless. This word was strange, it was something that Severus never saw coming from the infamous Potter brat. Small and weak was such a young voice and it was making the Potions Master wonder just this: Where was that hint of Gryffindor courage was that was normally there? How odd, how...Vulnerable; yes that's what the boy was being at the moment! And Severus had to marvel at such a state this boy was in. After all, Potter had never asked for any form of assistance coming from him or anybody else before. Sure, Severus had saved Potter's life multiple times without the child's consent but this was just bizarre, even if the boy was oblivious to whom the snarky Potions Professor actually was. Still, memory loss or not, what was in the air that was making Potter want to trust him?

Was this what Severus gets in return for everything he had done to save the boy's skin through all these years? Was this what he got as payment for what he had put himself through; for this war, risking his own neck here and there and for this...this child?! Did he deserve to put up with such a mindless boy, a 'Potter' suffering from amnesia?

Severus turned to Potter only to find eyes radiating off a light that was bright green and lively. Lily's eyes, of course, were boring straight into Severus's own in a way that he couldn't quite depict. Suddenly he began to start re-thinking the whole situation through, that maybe the boy wasn't all to blame for what happened per say. Severus would never openly admit it, but deep down he knew that he deserved every single ounce of oblivious Potter time that he could get.

The Potions Master shifted uncomfortably beneath the boy's dazzling stare as he couldn't find flaw with the fact that Potter's painful expression was alien to that of the same boy.  Potter would often glower at him in classes and act out in ways that were intolerable. Really, this Potter was a mere clone of the first was he not? From the same annoying messy hair to the same stupid remarks Potter was his father and much more.

But at that proclaimed statement, and as if a Petrificus Totalus spell had been performed on him, Snape had stiffened tremedously on the spot. Ironically, perhaps he'd been correct that boy had turned out to be much more than he had expected him to be, even if it was Potter's spawn. But then why was Severus feeling so uneasy when the boy was so near and in need? What was this pleading 'sight' that the child was giving him? Was it hurt? was it discomfort?

No, it had to be something stronger, something that was more sincere. Snape turned to Harry Potter and couldn't help but stare in awe at what he saw.

'Guilt.'

Indeed, Severus had glimpsed at it before, but he had not really seen or have had the chance to break down the whole scene until up to this moment. That look, one in which Potter was displaying way too well for his breed, was burning inside him deeply now. It was only then that Severus saw that Potter was showing a sense of remorse for something that he did not come to fully understand, though wanted too, and for some reason could not remember.

An expression as such should be cursed to ever appear on a child's face. Severus wanted to kick himself for missing such an important reaction before. Was it remorse that Severus was too blind to notice when Potter had been reluctant to leave him be? Was it surprise that claimed Potter's mind right before that jar had penetrated through his skull? The child bore that same guilt filled appearance even before he was bleeding profusely from his head.. and what had Snape done about it? Nothing! Nothing but scowl at the boy and loath every bone in his body. The man was stunned that Potter hadn't been screaming bloody murder from all the pain that he must be going through. Had it been that Potter seen that jar coming towards him and had accepted the blow as if he deserved it all along?

Was guilt the last feeling that had seared through the boy's body before he had blackened out in the arms of his most hated Potion Professor? Had it failed to fade out of his green orbs just like the lively, beautiful lights had done as they died inside and out of all things Gyrfindor? Oh how it it had been...Severus wished that he could have seen this earlier.

The Potions Master jerked his head towards Potter and swiftly came to his aid just before the others in the room had even begun to realize that the panic-stricken child was going into shock.

And just why couldn't Severus put two and two together before?

When the others did happen to notice that their cherished Golden Boy was shivering in fright from an invisible force they had flung themselves towards him in assistance, but Potter only cried out more from the sudden movements from those around him.

He had to wonder if he was capable of doing that now; saving the boy not only because it was his job to do so.

The child's messy black hair was lying in a heap of sweat on the top of head, the whites in his eyes were so large that Severus could have sworn that Potter looked as if he was being strangled to death.

'And not just because of the threat of Dark Lord, what irony is this?' thought Snape as he rounded on Potter. 'The boy is more likely to die at my wand rather than that monster's' At the rate he was going, Voldemort wouldn't have to touch a single hair on Potter's head to kill him. Snape was already in the mist of doing so.

Severus was going to strangle the boy himself if Potter didn't put an end to this nonsense, that was for sure. There was no doubt that it took heaps of energy out of him to suppress the favorable urge to do. Unfortunately, any rough handling of this boy could be unrepairable. Instead, Severus decided to study the miserable child as if he was a highly reactive potion being concocted. A thread of a thought had great pleasure in torturing his mind.

Could the boy really have forgotten everything?

At first Severus had thought that perhaps Potter's own memories weren't as lost as they were assumed to be. They could be locked away behind closed doors just waiting for a key to be found. Perhaps time will heal all, and surly the rebounding Gryfindor Golden Boy will be back on his feet in no time. Then they could all go back to living their lives normally, pretending that the disaster never occurred in the first place. And if Severus had to obviate Potter afterwards then so be it. Doing so will be better for all of them. Both of their abasement would be spared.

Then again, because Potter is Potter, time might only be part of the cure. In Potter's case, (and Severus knew this well) nothing was simple when it came to dealing with the boy-who-lived, so why should all change now? The most absurd part of this whole entire situation was that Potter managed to remember Severus's name, and by recalling such a major detail what else was he capable of remembering?

'All thanks to the notorious Black for giving Potter that brain wave that was such a necessity', sarcastically thought the Potions Master as he gloated to himself about how the mutt was falling more and more apart by the second.

Potter, once again, had rejected the touch of his godfather's hand....

The corner of Severus mouth quirked upward from such a beautiful sight. Sadly though, as much as Severus wanted to leap for joy for watching his old childhood enemy succumb into misery, the old man standing right besides his defeated nemesis was strictly reminding him of otherwise.

It was the second time that day that Severus wanted to strangle the old coot.
That all-knowing expression was planted sternly on the ancient features even as his old battered hand entangled itself within such long, silver locks. The wrinkles that were tugging at the corners of Dumbledore's thinning lips were severely contorting his solemn frown. The old wizard's eyelids dropped suddenly as he shook his head in such a chiding matter at the young Potions Master. Reacting in ways as if he had been slapped in the face by the older man, Severus' thinly smirked lips retreated back to their normal harsh straight lines. A blush tinted his placid cheeks. Just leave it to Dumbledore to leave him feeling degraded like a first year. He deserved this though, even Severus had to admit that  he and Black are no longer the children they once were. Petty outbursts and name calling is clearly unacceptable for the two grown men.

Nonetheless, as "mature" as they were acting right at the moment, Potter's trembling was worsening as his godfather tried to shove his way past Severus to get closer to his kin. Black continued to reach out to the boy, either completely unaware of how distressed his godchild actually was or he was just plain dimwitted. Snape thought the ladder of the two, and so, had shot up in alarm. The idotic mutt obviously was ignoring how Potter's frame was going through such horrid convulsions and that his face was a sickly white color. It didn't help that both the werewolf and the Headmaster were enclosing themselves around the moaning Potter at an alarmingly fast pace as well. Madam Pomfrey also flew into action while she fiddled endlessly with the multiple glass vials of potions that were sprawling across Potter's night table.

Bat-like robes spilled beneath Severus' figure in such a grandiose matter attempting as he must to halt the boy's wild behavior. Potter, who was shaking his head side to side and babbling in complete nonsense, lifted up those haunted green eyes to Severus in a pleading way. To respond to this incredulous sight before him, the man's charcoal eyes began to search for what he so clearly never saw within Potter up until now.

"No...No please!" moaned the boy in what appeared to be uttermost agony, "Make it stop...please...make it stop!"

And as he begged, he slid closer to his Potions Professor's obdurate form seemingly sensing that there was a familiarity in the startled dark presence. Severus' was stunned, his emotionless mask had flashed in grand surprise.

The boy was wanting him, the evil Potions Master, as a direct source of comfort.

Two and two still failed to add up inside of the startled man's mind. Since when has Severus become classified as a coddler? Had he grown soft? Just what in the bloody name of Merlin is going on?!

Luckily for the startled Potions Master, he recovered quite quickly from the uncalled for movement. He always did, and not only that, he had too. If Severus could recover from one of the Dark Lord's infamous 'Crucios' then surely he would be able to get over this... sentimental type of sort coming from the form in who he loathed beyond no other.

"Potter," warned Severus in the heaviest drawl he could manage, but the boy's ramblings did not cease.

Hoping that his face somehow blundered to show the mortification that tainted his cheek bones of how Potter was "hugging" him, Severus could not find matters within himself to push Potter's clinging form away. The boy had to calm down somehow and the excess stress could very easily put him into a coma and cause more damage to his mind than what already was done. The boy needed potions, anything would help him now. Potter was going to flail into a full blown seizure if his trembling worsened.

"Easy now. Potter, You need to listen to me... focus on my voice. "

Greasy black curtains successfully hid away this concern quite well. There was no way he was going to allow the boy get into anymore danger than he was already in.

Severus paused at such a thought; If Potter managed to push the "off" button inside his head as he previously had... then...well...Severus couldn't fail him twice in a row now could he?

Could you? pushed his subconscious mind. Severus answered back with a swift infamous up curl of the lip.

Well what type of cretinous question was that to ask such a man of his intelligence? Of course he could fail Potter again, but would he? Now that was another.

It was two and two again...

No. He would never. Not after what he did.

Severus affirmed himself of the afterthought. After all, there was no way he would dare look into those fading emerald eyes for a second round. Severus was going to make sure of it, that they will be restored no matter the cost. He would sacrifice himself to bring them back to the body they belonged to he would do it, even if that particular body was the carbon copy of the first Potter...

Charcoal black eyes fell to a sorrier sight as that smaller body next to him pressed up roughly against his robes. There was a voice, feeble and smaller than one could imagine coming from the boy who was suppose to vanquish the Dark Lord one day.

"Please...," it said to Severus, "I didn't mean it...I'm sorry...

Then something in those charcoal black eyes of Severus' have shifted, and this time didn't recover. Two and two had finally became one, like as if the two guilts had been ceremoniously came together at last.

Severus, not believing that this could be true, that it was possible for he himself to be able to feel such guilt the same as Potter's, had grabbed onto the boy's shoulders to keep him balanced. Those emerald illuminations just had to focus upon his swallowing black ones, they just had too!

And they did brilliantly! It was their guilts that collided extraordinarily into one force. Never to be separated again.

Alive were those eyes, they had to stay that way! The must, they were the dark man's life sources and their survival was depending on him. They were abundant with the life that both of them needed more than anything else at that moment, Snape couldn't deny their importance. The boy was here to stay; Severus would make sure of it.

The snarky Potions Master leaned into his nemesis' ear and whispered to him in a voice that was not snarky at all. In fact it was rather soothing actually.

"Calm yourself," murmured Severus in a surprisingly gentle voice to the child he had proclaimed to hate for the past fifteen years. "Clear your mind, Occlude your thoughts."

Potter squeezed his eyes shut, his hyperventilating chest continued to rapidly heave up and down at a deadly fast pace. Fists that were too small for the boy's age were unconsciously balled around Severus black robes. The boy moved closer to his protector in blind fear of what was happening around him or rather, to him. Potter quickly glanced up to see the normally indifferent expression in Severus' eyes swirl in minor discomfort.

Potter had clung to Severus for the second time that day, but what else was left for a greasy haired Potions Master to do when he had to fix a broken child? The boy had to calm down, he just had to.

"Look at me," whispered Severus again so low that he was certain that only Potter could hear. The boy's panicked breathing began to recede slowly. His eyes cracked open to peak around but he did not dare look up at the other's perplexed expression. Dazed and confused, the broken boy remained transfixed in his unstable state until two hands were gently cupping his tear stained cheeks.

"Potter, Look at me."

The command was silkily said yet stern enough to be taken seriously, and as Severus brought a steady hand to Potter's chin and tilted it upwards, green eyes interlocked with black ones once more.

"Nobody is going to hurt you, Potter. I promise you that."

A truth? A lie? The bemused man could not decide upon it. Could he, Severus Snape, ever hold such a promise after what had just occurred back in his office? The look of security that Severus had tried to portray to the boy wavered in dubiety. He couldn't chance to fail again now could he?

But no, he had to. He had to chance everything now.

The frightened boy calmed as he gazed into Severus' face wanting to believe and to entrust himself to this strange man but also wanting more, what was possibly denied to him at such a young age. Severus' face grew harsher wanting that look to end, wanting it away...

"Now..." he started quickly snapping back to his old demeanor from feeling so uncomfortable, "Gain some control."

Then it changed again, the old way of handling Potter faltered as Dumbledore and the rest of them approached him and the boy as a union. Potter recoiled away from the crowd slamming his back against the wall.  Severus flared up, but this time differently.

How absurd was it that the outlet to his anger was no longer all on Potter.

"Away from him!" shouted the greasy haired man at the unwelcome mob. "He needs room to breath. Step. Away. Now."

Immediately, as if being stabbed by the harsh tone, Remus and Dumbledore retreated from the two of them. Black, still deranged and puzzled by his godchild's unusual behavior, continued to creep towards the unresponsive boy. Severus' eyes turned into two narrow slits as he gave the other man one of his infamous deadly glares. Again Black, who absolutely affronted by Severus, proceeded to crawl towards the boy ignoring the warning given. Hooded eyes widened and flashed in alarm as Potter's babbling nonsense only increased. This time more hysterically...

"STOP! I'm not-can't-them-I'm sorry...please! I'm sorry! NO!"

There wasn't much thought in what Severus did next, the normal precaution became irrelevant to him, thoughts weren't there, and only actions could speak for what couldn't be said. Jumping into something he should have foreseen, something that could have been prevented, Severus Snape assertively maneuvered his own body between Black's and Potter's. By doing so, and to everyones shock, he had effectively displayed an act of protection for a boy who was the carbon copy of his childhood enemy.

Yes. Concern for Potter.

Severus wanted to kick himself. Hard. Once again, there was no thoughts of "recovery" there.

It had been those "odd" feelings again that have been clawing at his insides earlier that had finally broken through. It had been what he wanted to be away from all along... and what he needed to be close to.

'How touching, are we caring for the brat now?' Scolded the dark robbed man silently to himself. The boy's pratty father would for certain turn over in his grave if he ever knew "Snivillus" had acted to protect his precious son.

The Potions Master's stomach did a back flip just as his face whitened several shades beyond what was the usual ghostly pale. How abhorrent that Severus felt forced to lower his eyes away from Potter's own godfather? He wouldn't look at the other's baffled expression now. Any other time, the priceless dumbfounded expression on the mangy mutt's face and the hanging jaw would have been a laughable sight. Instead, he was forced to advert his gaze away from Sirius Black, which at any other time would have been a death sentence. Not this time though, and not with Potter clinging onto the wrong man like he was and Severus being just that; the wrong 'parental' figure.

Snape was more than just mortified for life.

Not wanting to claim another mind grain, Severus caught the Headmaster's eyes blue and all-knowing, twinkling delightfully at his spy's atypical behavior toward the child Severus proclaimed to deeply dislike. The older wizard seemed to be enjoying Severus' humiliation more than he would be enjoying his blasted lemon drops.

Did it have to be the Potter boy? Did it have to be the living, breathing reminder of Severus' past and present and soon to be future? Why was it this child, the spoiled, pampered prince? Why was it Dumbledore's Golden One? Why Potter!??!

Why did have to be Harry Potter that he, Professor grueling Snape, had showed some type of concern for?

The child then grabbed two fist-fulls of his raven colored hair and pulled on the chunks repeatedly. Severus swiftly turned around to face the distraught boy. Immediately and with strong, steady hands, the man took hold of both wrists.

They were thin; too thin actually...and despite the chaos flailing towards Severus at every twist and turn, he had somehow managed to raise an eyebrow at this "minor" detail. Had the boy's wrist always been fragile enough to snap in two? Imaginably, this is probably why Potter always ends up in the infirmary. Malnourished was he? Severus was almost hesitant to wonder why.

Nonetheless he had, it was just that right now wasn't the right time.

"Poppy," Snape said trying to untangle the tightly gripped heaps of hair out of the boy's white knuckled fists, "I do believe that a sleeping draft is in order for him."

The little mediwitch with twitchy, jerky movements wrestled the cap off the top of one of the vials at hand. She quickly scurried over to Severus and bent down to examine the boy who was huddled up close to his side. Her calculating, beady eyes blinked multiple times as she handed the potion over to Severus.

"This should put him out for the rest of the night."

But the Potions Master was far off from being patient as he snatched up the draft, yanked back Potter's head, took the boy's jaw, pried it open, and emptied the contents down his throat.

Potter fell limp in his lap only moments afterwards and at this, Severus curled up a lip. His face contorted in anger as he lifted the unconscious boy up into his arms and rose to his feet. Unconscious or awake Potter always found a way to humiliate the hell out of him...so why was he so caught off his guard?

Luckily for the Potions Professor, he recovered in the nick of time.

It seemed that glaring daggers at the other shockingly still forms in the room and daring for them all to meet his malicious stare, came as naturally as brewing did for Severus. All did not insist to meet his livid expression except for one: the mutt.

Lifting up his abnormally large nose at the other individual, Severus carried the burden over towards the other insufferable being who looked so appalled that he might have as well regurgitated his lunch on Severus' shoes. On the contrary to that statement, the Potions Master was quite worse off than the mutt was. If he was given the opportunity he would have willingly threw up all his intestines and stomach on Black, the very organs which kept on giving him those familiar, horrific "odd" feelings.

"Take him, Black," he lazily drawled dumping Potter into the other's receiving arms, "Feel free to coddle him until he's senseless. That is of course, if you don't mind that he already is. "

The pronounced sneer was a challenging one but the other did not come forward for the fight. Instead Black brought his solemn gaze down from Severus to the flaccid body that was now accumulating the space in his arms. The werewolf, Lupin, came to his aid as the two of them together and with great gentleness, lowered the boy back down onto the empty cot. With sweeping black robes and a heated expression, the Potions Master turned on his heel and strolled down the infirmary isle way in a matter that was full of haste and bitterness. He wanted to get away from there, he needed to be away.

Away from Potter. Away from all of them!

Most importantly, Snape wanted to be away from those odd feelings constricting his judgment. Away from what is to come, what is to begin, yet to be seen, to be felt... Away from that word, that simple pathetic word "help" coming from the boy who never deemed to ask it from him.

Away from those eyes that had once belonged to the women he loved but implanted in the face of the man he hated. Away from the truth that he would see and from what he didn't want to see about the boy.

The truth. That in which he was away from what he had done...

Away from Potter.

"Severus," commanded the gentle voice of the old man whom he wanted to distance himself from as well. The younger man with his back still facing the older, came to a halt and managed to turn his oily curtains to the side. Dumbledore's expression wavered in knowledge unknown. His eyes, bright blue and lively, told Severus to follow him. The greasy haired man could only give the headmaster a curt head nod before he trailed off behind him to the other side of the room where it was private.

There was no running away from this now; Severus just had to accept that the fact was laying right out in front of his abnormally large nose.

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

Dumbledore snapped his fingers and out of thin air, two rather plush armchairs popped into the room. One across from the other. The tension pressed roughly against Severus' spine as he sat down awkwardly in one the chairs, intently watching Dumbledore sit down with ease. Another snap of the old man's fingers and a coffee table with a rather large bottle of Firewhisky emerged before the two men. Two glasses appeared as well, and Dumbledore took both and filled them copiously.

"Whiskey?" insisted Dumbledore. Severus' eyes narrowed incredulously at the old Headmaster.

"I have already surpassed my alcohol consumption level, no thank you," said the younger man with a pronounced sneer.

Could it have been strictly the alcohol before that was the direct cause of his previous inane reactions to the-boy-who-lived? Blame just had to be put on something, might as well be the liquor.

"If you insist, my boy," sighed the older man, taking a small sip from his own glass. Holding the glass level with his eyes and swirling the rich crimson liquid from within, Dumbledore spoke frankly.

"I would like to discuss with you the possible mentoring arrangements for Mr. Potter for the duration period of his recovery. Finding a suitable mentor for the time being is indeed a priority. I was hoping you had an adequate suggestion, Severus." It was only then that the Headmaster thoroughly met Severus' gaze, the answer already clear on the distinct wrinkled face.

What was so dourly twinkling in the old Headmaster's eyes as well and did not pause in tormentingthe scowl on the Potions Professor's face which was deepening as minutes continued to pass at a dreadfully slow rate.

"None at all, Headmaster," declared Severus between clenched teeth. Dumbledore clasped his hands together happily and smiled wryly behind his lengthy beard in a way that made Severus seethe in pure anger.

"Then it's settled. Harry will stay with you."

The dismayed expression failed miserably to stay hidden behind the blank stony exterior that Severus had been struggling to retain throughout this entire nightmare.

"WHAT?!" shouted Severus in a voice that was wavering in total confusion and of shock.

Well of course he knew that he had to fix the boy but allowing Potter to live with him? That was suicide! He assumed that he would just be brewing potions, not bloody housing him! Dumbledore was crossing major lines, deadly ones, ones that should never be crossed without a price to pay.

"Potter? And in my personal quarters? That's abominable, Dumbledore!"

Hearing his own tone of voice made him flush a deep crimson color while his lingering eyes tried to pick up if anyone had heard or seen his outburst. The old wizard smiled at him lightly appearing free from the distress that Severus was displaying quite perfectly.

"Not to worry, my boy. A privacy charm is already in place."

"Oh really?" questioned Severus in pure hostility. "Then by all means go ahead and enlighten me on how Black's house-elf got a hold of our conversation."

The chuckle being emitted from the older man made the crimson color deepen several shades redder on the younger wizards distasteful features. He couldn't be sure if it was from the humiliation or out of his blinded anger that his face was being so contorted. The Headmaster's chuckle was replaced with a sigh; a reflection of a mistake that was made.

"Severus, that was my error, I do apologize for it," admitted Dumbledore humbly. "I should have set up a stronger privacy charm. It must have slipped my mind that house-elves are impervious to some minor spells and charms... "

However, Severus wasn't taking this from the sodding old man nor the thought that he, Severus Snape, could possibly be a mentor. Especially Potter's! His expression soured tremendously from the thought of it and the possibility that such a fairy tale could exist.

"Has it also slipped your mind that this is Potter who you are trying to appoint me as temporary guardian for?"

Albus shook his head and kept smiling that same pleasant smile. A rather controlled demeanor swept over his ancient features as he relaxed into his arm chair and watched with tranquility furthermore of the scene. Now riled up, Severus Snape stood abruptly from his seat.

"No, Severus it has not slipped my mind," replied the old man with an air of enlightenment swirling around his words. Severus, still looking absolutely livid, standing, had wasted no time to point a quaking, accusing finger at the Headmaster.

"Then you're mad, Headmaster! You can't be serious about appointing me as his mentor! Really? And in my quarters? It's Potter! How---?"

But Severus couldn't finish his sentence as his mind flew into a frenzy; his sweeping black robes bellowed out from bellow his feet as he rounded on his elder in a bat-like fashion. He was menacing enough to make any wizard fall over from the display. However Dumbledore did not flinch as his spy strode up to him, placed both hands on the arms of the chair and leaned in.

"Albus, you can't do this. There has to be somebody else."

However it was unfortunate that Severus' demand came out sounding more like a plea.

"I'm sorry, my boy, but I'm afraid there's nobody else fit for the job," frowned Dumbledore, yet to Severus he didn't appear as apologetic as he sounded. The Headmaster was eyeing him carefully in the same matter that he don e before at Grimmauld Place where Severus had unforgettably told a flat out lie about what happened to the boy.

"Fit for the job?" exclaimed Severus in a voice full of animosity as he dug his finger nails deeper into the armchairs cushions. "What about you, Albus? Who is better to protect the-boy-who-lived other than yourself? Take him back to headquarters with you where he'll be safe from both the Ministry and the Dark Lord."

But Dumbledore could only shake his head.

The Head of Slytherian was now fuming as he tore away from the chair and started to pace in fury, "Fine then. Hand him over to the Weasleys instead. I'm sure they'll keel over in joy for the opportunity. Or better yet, just send him back to his relatives where the blood wards are in tack. He'll be safer with them than with me! He'll be safer anywhere else!!"

Severus continued to ramble as he paced unevenly back and forth in front of the older man with the greatest energy he could muster up in each of his steps. His lungs felt like collapsing as he panted heavily.

"Harry has to stay at Hogwarts, Severus. The school is the safest place for him."

Severus' mobile eyebrows shifted upwards as he momentarily ceased his pacing and turned to the older wizard, "Safe? And with your absence? I think not, old man."

But Severus' words did not discourage his elder at all. An easy grin played gracefully on the ancient lips instead, "That's where you come in." The headmaster answered, folding his hands in his lap as he watched Severus continue his furious pacing.

"If he leaves, there will be too much talk about his whereabouts. Danger for Harry is at its peak." The headmaster continued, "The Ministry will get involved and so Voldemort will be on a hunting party for him if he is to discover his absence from the school. This we certainly can not risk to chance."

Severus spun around with a face that looked too painful for him to wear. He wasn't winning and he wasn't recovering well, "Then let McGonagall watch him! She's his Head of House."

But the headmaster did not take to the idea like he would to his own. Instead he shrugged, angering Severus severely.

"I'm afraid she doesn't have the time."

"And I do?" was the new flamboyant question.

"Severus, it can only be you. Her Gryffindors are being targeted by our new Headmistress. Professor McGonagall already has her fair share of work cut out for her with my absence from Hogwarts."

Severus spun around again to face the man who he wanted to get away from.

"What does that have to do with anything, Albus? You know I'm in over my head enough as it is with the classes that I'm teaching, spying for you and for the Order, and attending those grueling Death Eater meetings...The Dark Lord..." the man paused, his eyes swirling with a whole new form of energy.

"...what if he calls me when Potter is in my quarters? What am I to do then? Would I go to the Death Eater meeting or attend to the petty Potter brat instead?" murmured Severus more to himself than to the man who was sitting in front of him with ease.

"Then you may ask for assistance from Madam Pomfrey if it is required. Trust me Severus,  who is a better match to look after Harry and the wellbeing of his mind and health other than you? Really my boy, you should be giving yourself more credit. You are but a very highly skilled Occumens, a Healer and a Potions Master at large."

Severus suppressed the urge to groan as he raked his brain for other alternatives to get out of what was to smack him right in the face.

"Understandable, Headmaster, but there is much more at stake besides healing Potter's infernal brain of his. I am going to assume that our new Headmistress will find great difficulty in determining that the boy is oblivious to the world around him. Although I dare say that she won't with what Potter had displayed to us earlier," silkily stated Severus with a hint of malice in his voice.

Dumbledore sighed and brought a hand to his beard which made the younger wizard turn to him in wonder.

"Yes, Dolores Umbridge will propose a great threat to Harry if she is to discover his condition. This is why we will have to create a different excuse for the time being until the boy regains back most of his memories. Until then he won't be able to attend his classes or roam the school freely...please take your seat, Severus."

Severus glowered at the other before he gave up his pacing to reluctantly settle back down into the vacant armchair. "And to what extent are we excusing his condition?"

Severus was looking murderously at Dumbledore. The voice inside of him was screaming  to back down but continue to blindly protest what the old man was setting him up to do. He watched closely as Dumbledore leaned back into his chair and sipped at his whiskey contently.

"I was thinking something more along the lines of Mr. Potter coming down with an illness that will excuse his absence."

At this point Severus sat up his seat, his back went completely rigid and his expression and unreadable one. Severus looked back at Dumbledore with two broadly raised eyebrows and then sighed as he rested heavily in the armchair.

"Unless stupidity is an illness, Headmaster, I do not believe that Umbridge will fall for something elusive as such," he sarcastically commented.

Dumbledore gave his spy a chiding look, "An illness that is contagious, Severus. Perhaps then we can give reason for the boy to be quarantined in the infirmary when really, he will be staying with you in your quarters. "

"Is stupidity contagious, Dumbledore? I beg to differ...." Severus snidely remarked as he followed suit to pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Enough!" exclaimed the powerful wizard as his voice increased in volume, "This is a serious matter of discussion and your cooperation is needed so if you please..."

Severus stood up again, and not knowing what else to do, rounded on the Headmaster for the second time. His voice started out deadly low and only increased as he spoke. His normal black calloused eyes were glinting wildly, dancing like the flames in the mantle.

"Then if you want me to be serious, Headmaster, I highly suggest you abandon this hebetudinous idea of yours because if you haven't noticed already, Potter and I dislike each other entirely. This plan will not work. It. Won't", snapped Severus, his voice stinging like venom.

Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes turned to ones of ice as he glared at Severus in a way that meant business. Like a reprimanded student, the younger man paled and dumped himself back into his seat to deal with more than just the excruciating pain that flew into his head. He brought a hand to the bridge of his nose again, this time pinched it until it went numb.

Dumbledore looked at him seriously, "There is such a fine line between love and hate, surely you of all people would understand this most basic of ideas, Severus?"

Unfortunately, the younger man didn't want anything to do with the boy anymore. He wanted to make Dumbledore understand just that.

"It seems that I still remain unable to grasp the concept of why you can not allow us to simply leave him in the infirmary in order for the boy to receive the intensive care he needs. I will surly still be able to brew him the proper potions as it will be my responsibility to do so, and Poppy will be able to tend to Potter's every whim in more proper environment."

"Severus, I would appreciate it if you wouldn't ignore my question..."

The younger man scowled back at him, "Well I find that it does not meet the requirements to deserve an answer."

He shook his head at this again. He wanted to be away, he wasn't going to do it! There was too much silence between them untill...

"I won't do it, Albus. Not for Potter."

But he couldn't confirm this statement, not on the inside at least. He had known that Dumbledore had this coming to him so why did he keep denying that he would have to take full responsibility for what he done to Potter? Why was he running away from what he promised he would do to protect Lily's son?

Dumbledore sensed it, he knew it since the moment the younger man came to him that day that Severus was afraid.

"Will you do it for her then, Severus? Why.. I thought we've been down this path before.", said the Headmaster, throwing the words that Severus told him before right back at him in full force.

His expression had turned soft at this as he waited for his most trusted spy to answer him. The Potions Master looked up; a gleam was noticeable in his dark eyes despite how he tried to compose himself.

"I don't want to end up failing her again, Albus. Have you not come to realize this?!"

Dumbledore nodded his head in a comprehensive matter as Severus averted his painful gaze elsewhere. He couldn't meet the old man's expression acting out in such a piteous fashion.

Instead the Potions Master looked to the other side of the room where Black, Pomfrey, and Lupin were solemnly standing next to the cot of a boy with messy raven colored hair. There faces radiated off nothing but sadness.

"I know that, my boy. Believe me I know."

Severus slowly turned his haunted gaze back to the Headmaster.

"No you don't", the lower voice responded dejectedly, "If I can't fix him... "

Severus didn't get to finish his sentence as he allowed his black oily curtains to fall over his monotonous, yet crumpled expression. His eyes gleamed in something that was new, something that was strange. The unbearable, odd feelings were swarming up inside his chest eating him alive and he could not take it...

If he couldn't fix Potter, than what was he going to do? How would he deal with himself knowing that he had failed Lily again? How could he deal? The failure would be too much for him to live with.

Dumbledore's stringent expression forced Severus to sink deeper into the cushioning of the chair.

"Then at least you would have tried," he relentlessly said, "you would have realized the fear; you would have acted on the fear by doing what you feared to do anyway."

Severus' eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared daggers at one of the most powerful wizards in the world. He sank deeper into himself and for what he didn't want to be known.

"I am not a coward" snorted the Potions Professor meeting his gaze without shame. He watched carefully as the old man stood up from his seat and approached him with great caution. A gentle hand was being placed on his shoulder just then making Severus' head jerk up in surprise from the sudden touch.

"Then you know what you must do, Severus"

The realization had dawned upon him. Potter was going to live in quaters at Hogwarts and he, Severus Snape, was going to be a mentor, Potter's new guardian figure.

What is the wizarding world coming to? Severus had to wonder what was going to happen next. Perhaps The Dark Lord will strike them all down now while everything is spinning out of control.

And if Severus had to fix Potter, he would have to attempt fix himself along the way if he expected to get anywhere with this boy. Especially with those pesky memories returning back to that thick head, Severus had to be able to control himself around the unfavorable brat. At least Potter was oblivious for the time being and did not know who the sodding hell he was, but besides that Severus knew that nothing else was going to be easy for him.

While Severus was staring at practically nothing and allowing the realization to soak into him, Dumbledore's withered hand squeezed into his shoulder. The movement was enough to awaken the younger man out of the haze he was suffering in.

"I will see to the arrangements made to your quarters by the end of the week, Severus. Harry will have to stay in the infirmary until then, of course. I believe the rest you already know. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey will be happy to assist you with young Harry if you require the help."

Snape scuffed at such a thought "I will need nothing of the sort. My only concerns will be for Potter's mingling with that insufferable toad."

A raised hand cut him off with grace.

"Dolores will remain ignorant, but I do caution you to be on your guard at all time. Any suspicions and she will see to them in full force. I will assume that you will inform her immediately after her return that Mr. Potter has come down with a case of Spattergroit and will have to be quarantined in the infirmary until it passes. Do you have anymore questions for me, Severus?"

Will he survive this? Will Potter drive him into insanity after this mess ends?

These of course were all childish questions to ask the Headmaster so he refrained from voicing them. He would have persisted though if the fight was worth it or if he didn't feel so drained and so torn apart from the brutal discussion about the possibility which had just became a reality; that is mentoring the boy-who-kept-living.

There was still one more reasonable concern left on the outskirts of the Potions Master's mind not minding the others. Severus strengthened up and took a stand as well, watching as the armchairs, coffee table, Firewhisky, and glasses disappeared with a resounding pop.

"Yes, Headmaster," replied Severus in a tone that wavered between scattered thoughts. "What do I do with Potter when he starts to remember?"

Oh how that question was haunting him in more than just one way. What will he do when the boy realizes he had no parents? What will he say to the boy when he starts to see images of the Dark Lord? What about the numerous other ordeals Potter suffered prior to this point? And what about his friends? What about the memories Potter has of Severus himself? What if he doesn't understand at all? Or worse-what if he understands too much? He will have to relive it all within the small confines of Severus' quarters, within the even smaller confines of his mind. Severus will have to watch it all, help the boy, and hope that they both survive through such torture.

What if...

What if Potter remembers that it was he who threw that Jar of Dead Cockroaches at the boy's head because of Snape's worst memory of what he had seen?

Severus cringed as he thought of the word. No, not the word, the emotion that he often numbed whenever he thought back to times when he had felt it for her. That unatural sensation of worrying for another other than just his own skin. Black eyes glistened and bore into a twinkling blue that was full of sadness. No words were needed, they never have been.

But what will he do if Potter remembers that Severus had showed some type of concern for him afterwards? What will he do then? Dumbledore seemed to have an answer as he gazed at Severus with such great knowledge of what is yet to be understood.

"Severus, I believe you will know what to do when the time is right."

Severus ogled at the older man and his mouth was left gapping with such a riddle. For that moment in time he was wondering just how much the old man knew. The wise wizard smiled at him sincerely and patted his most trusted spy's shoulder in such an encouraging matter. With nothing left to say, Dumbledore turned to speak briefly with Madame Pomfrey as well as remove Potter's other companions from the room, leaving Severus standing in the mist of the confusion with such words swaying previous thoughts.

His face showed nothing but the pain that was so heavily placed upon his impassive expression. And this time you may ask? No, this time there wasn't any recovery.

No recovery at all...

Reasons could not explain themselves thoroughly to why Severus could not get Potter off of his mind that next day.

Yes. on Potter.

Although, and minding those odd feelings, after that tiring evening spent in the infirmary with the boy, there wasn't much left that needed to be explained. What was past was past, and there was no going back to fix what was destroyed. The only way to repair the damage done was to move forward; and that was exactly what this Potions Master was going to do. He had to move on, either that or become inactive.

However, at Hogwarts where there was a threat of the new Headmistress around(and the Dark Lord of course), situations could not be left idle as desired. Decisions had to be made and put into action even if Severus was reluctant to do so. Potter was now his responsibility and his to care for.

And so, the dark robed man's body shook itself at the repulsive word, in which he was binded to use by force.

Care.

He was a carer now, Potter's mentor precisely. And from what Severus had already displayed when it came down to dealing with the boy, Dumbledore must have been cracked when he proclaimed that the title "mentor" for the Potions Master was rather...fitting. Not only was such a word to use regarding Potter barbaric, but it was way too sentimental for Severus, let alone to consider himself as being one! But none of that mattered anymore, he was the boy's temporary guardian whether he wanted to be or not.

And of course it was "not"

Severus was not a kind man after all, he did not enjoy children in the least of ways. The only reason he had picked up the teaching job as a Professor in the first place was because his position to work for Dumbledore, the Order, and becoming a double spy had required being involved at Hogwarts. Of course Dumbledore had thrown the opportunity in his face way too quickly for Severus to express his displeasure towards.

And displeasure was exactly what he was expressing quite perfectly that very next day after the jar of dead cockroaches incident... too perfectly in fact.

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

Students of all ages and sizes flung themselves out of the path of Severus ruthless Snape as he barged towards the Headmistress' office like a bull. A rowdy bunch of third year Gryffindors silenced themselves immediately and had parted like the red sea as their most loathed teacher prowled effortlessly through.

Stragglers whom could not see that the gliding batman was coming on head strongly, were roughly bumped to the side by his steaming form. Luckily for them though, the Professor did not have a minute to waste on reprimanding their deficient scowls. In fact, he was almost tempted to deduct house points from the bunch of morons but quietly refrained himself from doing so. There was just no time to waste. After all, time was too valuabe to be spent so heedlessly. And so the malicious sounding commanded, "Move" was delievered from his lips efficiently enough. The reaction it had caused had also been just as satisfying.

More children were so unkindly blocking his route. A small group of fifth year Ravenclaw girls clutched their books tightly against their chests in fear that they might drop such precious cases of knowledge in the pathway of their most hated. In a lively matter the group scurried off to the side, warily eyeing Severus as he stormed through. Even the other staff members had been staring at the man and appearing more flighter than usual as Severus stalked past their classrooms. The expressions on their mistrusting faces had obviously irked the man past the paranoid point.

After rounding the corner of the hall, Severus had finally reached his destination. Without wasting another moment, he vigorously moved toward the Gargoyles that guarded the Headmistress's office. The man bared his teeth as he mumbled the password, "Ferrywinkle" glowering as he wondered just how it was possible for someone else to create a more "deficient" password than Albus Dumbledore himself.

As the Gargoyle statue leap to the side, Severus ascended up the staircase without any difficulty, the new Headmistress was given the news of Potter just as accordingly.

........

"He came down with a rare strain of Spattergroit?", questioned Dolores Umbridge with much surprised in her voice, "Mr. Potter is ill? Is that what you say, Professor Snape?"

Severus would have smirked at the tedious, woman's stupidity but could not be so certain whether or not she was more pleased with the news or angry with them. The man's uncertaintly was then quickly assured. Umbridge's annoyingly, thin eyebrows shot up to the top of her forehead, her thick lips smacked together and then pinched with impatience as she awaited for a more indept explanation. With eyes like that of a basilisk, the toad woman then glanced at Severus. He of course, who had been momentarily flapping through the hallways like an overgrown bat, had remained in complete control even underneath her cutting hard stare.

"Affirmative", he dully replied, "According to Madam Promfey's diagnostic spell, Potter may be out for the remainder of the year if his condition fails to improve within a few weeks."

A noise that was high pitched and horribly pleasant then erupted through the stubby witches' throat. A sickening, smile had also sprung across her flabby toad- like face all in the same fashion.

"How very... disappointing", said the woman who was clearly far from disapointed with the news. There had not been a single trace of sadness hidden, but that was a predictable reaction of the witch. From what Severus already knew, Umbridge had a massive hate for the boy and was clearly out for his blood. The insufferable toad looked as if she was going to have a field day, but that was untill realization dawned upon her then about what Potter's absence could possibly mean in the long run. After all, in order to cover up for Dumbledore's disappearance, Severus was forced to pretend to assist Umbridge in locating and capturing him. Now with Potter out of the picture, Severus could only predict how this was going to effect what that toad-like-tyrant was set out to do.

And now, because of recent events, will not be able to accomplish such objectives.

"Very disappointing...", Umbridge repeated. Her small smile faltered as she looked down at her desk, and then back up at Severus in a questioning matter, "There are approximately six weeks left until the end of the school year. Professor, do you believe we will be able track Albus Dumbledore down before then?"

Severus fought the brute urge to roll his eyes at the toad featured women, but his onyx gaze remained static in his sockets.

"If Potter's condition does not improve...", repeated Severus as if he was talking to small child, "then I can not say, Headmistress."

"Then I will go to him now while he's weak", announced Umbridge angrily, making Severus turned towards the witch with his eyebrows slightly raised and parted from hearing such a doltish outburst. The women was flying into a craze.

"Thats what I'll do...yes...thats it..." The stouty woman clasped her hands together nervously as if it was the only way that she would be able to contain her exploding intentions.

"I will interrogate him before the illness is at a high. I'll just grab some Veritaserum..."

Severus titled back his head with dignity, his eyes bore straight into her own tiny fiery ones with incredibility of the situation.

"Potter is being quarantine in a separate infirmary room until the illness passes. Nobody is to be in contact with him except for Madam Promfey and myself. ", said Severus with ease as he watched Umbridge smile widely with fury.

"Then I am sure there will be no issue in interrogating him yourself.", exclaimed the Headmistress in a voice that was too pleasant to mean anything that could possibly be of good intention.

Severus nodded his head to accept, but knew he would do nothing of the short to Potter for the witch had responded just as accordingly, "As you wish."

He could feel the woman eyeballing him skeptically as his dark robes bellowed majestically from his feet after he turned around to leave. Unfortunatly, Umbridge had other ideas to express. She was going to drive him up the bloody wall if he lingered around much longer! Naturally collected by nature, Severus was finding it rather difficult to bare anymore of her incompatibility. His greasy, locks of hair were already about to stand on their ends just as the sickening sweet, girlish voice chimed in again.

"Oh and Professor Snape. one more thing..."

With his lip curling up automatically, Severus had swiveled his head to the side as he paused in the doorway. Out of the corner of his eye he watched closely as the devious little women rounded the desk to sit down comfortably in Dumbledore's old armchair. The high pitched, pleasurable little giggle then rang right through his eardrums all the same.

The toad mouth then flew into a drunk grin. Large and wry, the woman smiled pleasantly, yet in such a sickening way enough to make Severus' stomach churn in uttermost disdain. He had a bad feeling...

"Please make sure that boy understands what is to come to him when his health is returned. I'm sure that another hefty detention of mine will finally put him in his place for good."

And then she laughed.

Severus watched in disgust as the snide, little witch sat at Dumbledore's desk and basked herself within the hideous, pink room. The nasty, crooked grin had then churned upon her flabby face into one of pride. Her beady eyes closed, then opened and grew wide like thoes of the horrible, meowing kittens which had been charmed on the wall behind her. Black greasy curtains swept over the Potions Professor's dueling expression as he paused in the doorway deep in thought to ponder what the blasted women had just babbled about. His stomach felt like it was on fire.

And it was. Very much so, and burning everything inside.

'How can Umbridge possibly tame a Potter when I can not?' wondered Severus quite seriously.

However, that was the least of his questions for there were far more important matters to discover reguarding the perculiar statement coming from the toad.

What Severus really wanted to know, was what exactly had transpired in her office during Potter's served detentions. Somehow, and in ways that Severus was becoming more aware of as the days dragged by, the lapping fire in his guts hindered him from departing from the office. The inscrutable women appeared to be puzzled by his reluctance to leave.

"Is something wrong, Professor Snape?", questioned the stubby women appearing slightly suspicious to why the man was still standing in the doorway.

Severus felt the prompted need to ring her neck as he watched the innocent expression on Umbridge's face swaggered in curiosity. There in the door, Severus still remained, turning slowly around as he begrudgingly battled with the flames inside him. What shocked him above all, was actually contemplating on asking about the extent of Potter's said detentions.

For once, Severus did not sarcastically think that it was a shame that he had not recieved the chance to do so.

Suddenly, all curiosity in the moment was lost when the office floor shook violently. The new Headmistress did not take well to the confusion as she sprung out of her lavish position and onto her toes. Shocked caressed them both. Umbridge gazed out of the entrance of the office and Severus leaned over the railing for a better view. From several floors bellow, there were screams of pure chaos coming from ghost, staff members, and students alike. All of whom were running about the castle like a herd of Centaurs. The stoutly woman ran out in front of Severus, and hurried down the stairs transfixed with horror. However, Severus impassively remained on top of the staircase gazing down at the chaotic scene bellow. His eyes flickered with boredom as if he been watching two people engaged in a solemn game of wizard's chest instead witnessing a crowd of idoits loseing their heads. Umbridge whirled around to him in terror. The corridor bellow them was now resembling that of a giant swamp.

'Another prank of those insufferable Weasley twins', silently assumed the Potions Master as the corners of his lips quirked into... a comical smirk?

Did he, Severus Snape, just find a prank coming from Gyrffindor actually amusing?

For once, Severus found himself almost...appreciative towards that normally, unfavorable Gyrffindor trait which defines their house completely: trouble making. Umbridge was working herself up into a frenzy which Severus could not have been anymore pleased of.

At the same time, the man was finding it oddly difficult to surpress a carnervous urge to chuckle at the laughable scene. What was even more absurd other than Snape being genially humored by a Gyrffindors misdeeds, was that he was becoming more understanding of why Dumbledore at times would allow that House to get away with bloody murder.

Merlin, he must of be losing his touch...

Although the Head of Slyterin would never openly admit it, but to a certain degree, shall he ever be caught dead reconsidering the useless of the rivary House, that perhaps, just maybe Gyrffindor does have some diminutive value after all.

Thankfully, there was still a tiny thread of sainty left inside the man that had barely prevented him from awarding a hundred points to Potter's house for such an adept display.

"Well?", started Umbridge as she beckoned to him, "Are you coming or not? Some assistance is needed from you now!"

Severus nearly shrugged at the toad women and proceeded to descend down the staircase in the same callous fashion from before. However, the fire in his stomach (although he still couldn't understand why he still held it there) was lashing out quite intensely at the witch, licking his insides to prompt a reaction from his gut.

"I do have classes to teach. I am afraid I can not aide you at this time.", dryly answered Severus. Umbridge was doing more than just gawking at his dessent; her broad, pale features were churning into a brillant pink that perfectly matched up with the headband squeezing into her skull.

The witch sputtered something underneath her breath that Severus could not quite make out clearly, then she rounded on him for a final time.

"And how do you think I am going to get rid of this disaster??", exploded Umbridge as if it was the most important question in the world to ask. She now was following him from behind as Snape glided past her, aloof to her nervousness.

"Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something.", sardonically replied Severus hardly paying attention to the stout women's livid features. Inwardly he was finding humor in her lividness.

"Really Snape? After what happened yesterday evening? That firework display was more than enough!", rebuked Umbridge sounding very displeased.

And amused he was indeed...

And angered as well...

"Then I advise you to take better precaution when handling these situations as The Headmaster would have."

His snide comment sank into Umbridge immediately as he noticed how the toad women's eyes formed into two narrow slits. Her wide, slacken mouth pinched in dramatically from the insult and then responded with a loud, flustered, "huff." Umbridge flew ahead of Severus, wand at hand she approached the bottom of the staircase where she took action as soon as she set foot into the swamp.

This time Severus did not suppress the urge to roll his eyes as the witch squawked out useless orders to Filtch who was flapping around the corridor miserably failing to prevent the murky substance from spilling out into the hallways. However, the laughable scene did not seem to erase the image that had been set right as stone in the Potion Master's mind of the terrified fifteen year old boy, bruised, battered, and bloody laying in an infirmary bed

Alone.

His stomach was literally burning as he found it hard to yank the image out of his mind.

Still, the fire did not yet cease.

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

5 Days Later...

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Weasley, for disrupting my classroom again with your intolerable babbling"

"Fifteen?!!", exclaimed the insufferable redhead as he wildly waved his hands in the air and talked back to Severus like the imbecile he was, "But I was only-"

"Another fifteen points from Gryffindor", silkily stated the Potions Professor.

Severus scowled and clenched his jaw together. For the past hour he been trying with every once of energy he had left to control his urge to curse all the Gyffindors into another dimension. Not only this was true, but to his own annoyance, his very own Slyterins were begining to get on his nerves as well. Snape had already admolished several warnings to his kin but they still persisted to chatter and snigger about a topic that was all too commonly known, one that Severus has been hearing to ofthen about for the past week.

That topic being the talk of all of Hogwarts was in fact Potter's no show.

Not only that was certain, but It had also been the third time that day that Weasley had opened his sorry mouth mid way into a lesson. No doubt was he talking about Potter with his house mates, and for that reason alone, the boy was surly going to suffer the consequences.

"And Weasley", started Severus who was certain that in another minute he was going to send the redhead spiraling across the classroom if he did not manage to restrain himself

"If you have every intention in depleting more points from your house, do not hesitate to continue disrupting my class for I will not stop you. Interrupt me again, Weasley, and I'll make it fifty."

As the Potions Master struck the boy hard, Weasley recoiled into himself, looking absolutely grim as his red freckles melted away into his burning cherry red cheeks. Smartly, the boy suppressed to glare at his teacher properly.

"Yes, sir.", grumbled Weasley as he sank reluctantly into his chair.

It was rather...unfortunate that the scorching flames inside of the heated Potion's Professor were raging uncontrollably now and that Gyrffindor alone had been the target of such brutal attacks for the past week more than the usual. Having docked points from Potter's house for perhaps the two hundredth time since the day Severus had landed the boy in the infirmary, did not delete that haunting image either of having a broken child being cradled in his arms.

Severus himself was begining to worry. How much more of this torment could he take as the days passed onwards at such a snails pace? He had only the remainder of the day left after all, surly he of all people could endure such a thing.

But he had been growing more paranoid as every day went on. Commotion about the boy's disapearnce has not only been amoungst his own house but the entire castle. At first the boy's absent went unnoticed by the majority of students except for Gyrffindor. Then as day two and three approached, the unknown whereabouts of Harry Potter had gradually spread to all Houses and even to Slyterin. Day four and Five, the news had claimed the castle like a plague. It had taken his all just to ignore the talk that was going on in his own house. Some students had rather dangerous imaginations about what had happened to the boy. Different rumors had taken form from Potter in a quiddich accident, Potter ill, Potter kidnapped, Potter transfered to a safe house, and the least of Snape's favorite...Potter on his deathbed.

He was also noticing that his useful tactic of reprimanding his students (preferably Gyrffindor) for doing so much as merely breathing in his presence, was doing absolutely nothing for him now.

The Granger girl who was sitting behind the Weasley boy sat up up tentatively in her seat obviously contemplating about something that Severus knew could not be of anything good. The girl and the rest of the Gryffindors exchanged hesitant looks as all their eyes kept wandering over to Potter's vacant chair. It was only a matter of time that one of the insufferable children would pop out the most dreaded and most insufferable question of all.

Severus saw that the time was unfortunatly now.

Her hand finally shot up into the air as if it was a fired off spell. Severus had momentarily considered ignoring the ungrateful display, but if he did, Granger would surly pursure.

Oh welll it's her funeral, thought Severus as he grinded his teeth together, Foolish girl

But why bother wasting needed energy to try to fight her off? Severus was growing tired as it was already for spending the majority of his afternoon finishing making arrangements to his quarters for preparation for Potter the next day. He had already transfigured his library into spare bedroom where the boy would sleep for the nights and have "quiet time" for the evenings. Snape had also been cautious when regarding his lab area as well. He had to be sure that Potter wouldn't be tempted to get his grimy hands all over his potions. Everything would have to be finished by tonight and Severus still had ways to go before his quarters are completely "Potter Proof."

"Tell me, what could possibly be of such an urgency that requires my dire attention, Ms Granger?", the agitation in his voice could not be missed.

The Granger girl lowered her hand, her bushy eyebrows parted as her eyes silently fell on the other wallowing Gryffindors in the classroom. Severus noted how her fingers were balling eagerly into small fist. Her tension being more apparent than anything else.

"Please, sir. There has been... talk... going on for the past few days about...well... Harry, sir."

Tension from every corner in the room could not have been anymore intensified. Children were gapping in awe as they shifted their attention quickly away from the meddlesome girl to their Professor's pinched face. Every fifth year Gyffindor and Slytherin was there to witness as Severus spun around towards the girl feverishly in one grandiose step.

Too feverishly in fact...

"Done pointing out the obvious, Ms Granger? Perhaps Gryffindor could do with another point reduction then if desired.", insisted Snape as he watched the girl shift uncomfortably in her seat while he stared down his nose at her. Severus did not miss as the girl's cheeks began to flush in the color of Weasley's redhair...and Potter's when it was tainted with blood...

Dammit Potter! Silently cursed Snape as the memory triggered itself again

The Granger girl began to go on about the boy whom Snape didn't want anything to do with, despite how her House mates were practically begging with her not too And so Severus fought to control himself. He couldn't get Potter out of his head either.

"Professor McGonagal told us that he's come down ill, but she hasn't told us with what exactly. Is there a possibility that you might know, sir?", she was trying to sound curious but as paranoid as Snape was becoming, he could have sworn her having some minor suspicions. After all, Potter, just like his arrogant prick of a father, would have notably told his two insolent friends about the Occumency lessons and when he was having them. Surly the two would have known that he was suppose to arrive back in one piece, or at least Granger would have known this.

Spurts of discussion and exclamations erupted from multiple mouths of students. Even Severus' own godson couldn't resist to comment on Granger's question.

"My oh my, Potty is ill", mocked the golden haired Slytherin in a gruesomely high pitched voice, "What incredibly dreadful news you have brought up, Granger. Although I must say, it's not all that bad... Easier prey for the Ministry I guess..."

Draco as well as the rest of Severus' Slytherins roared with laugher, but it was hard for them to miss the crude sounding grumble that was being emitted out of the Weasley boy's clenched jaws.

"Shut your face Malfoy! Nobody cares what you have pulled out of your arse."

The blond haired responded by smirking back at the red haired one in victory, his face smug as he taken pride in himself. His finely shaped eyebrows shot up to the top of his forehead in a nonchalant slyness.

"Scared Weasel King?" , tried Draco with a sneer, "What a shame that your Seeker is done in for the year. And who knows, with our new Headmistress in charge, maybe he'll be done for good."

This time Weasley rose from his desk, his face was burning with pure anger as he tried to defend his best mate.

"I said shut the bloody hell up you stupid prat,!!", but the boy was far from done.

And so was Severus. And far from it.

He roared in his displeasure at the untamed voices coming from all of the petty children. Their indestructible mumblings echoed mind bogglingly throughout the entire classroom.

"SILENCE!!"

It seemed that the flames from within the Potions Professor's pounding guts were finally making his usual still, stone-like frame shake in pure rage.

All his students jumped in their seats at the sudden explosion, those who were near Severus flinched back in fear that their professor would start hurtling curses at them.

It was that or rather something more along the lines of jars of dead cockroaches...

One could tell that Severus was way past paranoid as his dark robes bellowed from beneath his feet and rounded on the group of dunderhead students. His eyes were a serious charcoal black, dangerous and disturbing all at the same time as he loomed over them like a plague.

"Again, that will be another ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley, I suggest you watch your tone. To answer your incredibly inutile question, Granger, Potter is suffering from a rare case of Spattergroit. Back to work, this discussion is finished. "

Snape continued to loom over the bunch as he took in the sounds of his Slytherins snickering and the Gryffindors exclaim noises of surprise. The Granger girl once pink in the face paled multiple shades lighter at the sudden news. Weasley who was seated at the table in front of her had done the same by turning around in his seat to meet his friend's expression of great disbelief. The petty expressions on their faces could not have been anymore priceless.

Severus smirked as the Granger girl looked absolutely crossed and her friend Weasley appalled. Those students that have been born into wizarding families moaned in disgust knowing all too well that coming down with Sparagroit is no holiday. The disease is rather grotesque for one to bare; pustules covering body, fungus in the mouth, deadly high fevers, hallucinations, and it could become fatal in some cases and if left untreated. Severus stood, please with himself as he began to turn to make his way back to the front, however Granger had foolishly decided to counter his response.

"But Professor Snape", came that blasted annoyance out of the many groans and laughs, "Spattergroit takes weeks to develop, we would have noticed the symptoms before. Harry's been quite fine lately, sir, It doesn't make sense."

Students were stunned senseless as Severus did more than merely scowled at the girl. He had glided over to Granger so that this time, he was towering menacingly over her quaking form.

"What part of 'rare case' do you not understand, Ms Granger?!", bitterly sneered out the impatient man.

She was cowering underneath the man's commencing form. Her words were a stuttering mess.

"I-I d-didn't mean-"

Unfortunately for the girl, Severus had chomped down right into her stammering like he would do to a sandwich. Venom leaked from his ice breaking tone as he preceded to rip the young witch apart like the greasy git all his students claimed him to be.

"Did it every occur, insufferable girl, that perhaps you do not know everything there is to know about wizarding illnesses or rather, anything at all? Because in case you do not have the ability to comprehend what I am saying, I will make this clear: I will no longer tolerate a know-it-all in my classroom nor I will allow such mediocre displays of knowledge and meddlesome retorts to question my caliber intelligence. It will be ever so... unfortunate if you interrupt my class again, Miss Granger. I will suggest for further notice that you hold your tongue. That, or else give me the pleasure to hold for you. Test me, Granger, and you will quickly discover that my tactics in doing so could be rather... creative. "

Students were gasping for air, gawking in terror as the charcoal eyes burned with great intensity. Such merciless, onyx eyes had no doubt caused Hermione Granger to shrink back in tears from her cruelest teacher. dead silent she obediently folded her hands in her lap. Her cheeks flushed red in humiliation and If looks could kill, Severus would already of had the girl, as well as the entire class, murdered in a blink of an eye. Granger who was still as stone in her seat, finally bowed her head in submission, for this reason alone Granger dared not to glance upon his livid features. If she did decide upon it, the girl would have found out that during the brunt of the Professor's speech, Snape had slipped his hand into his robe pocket and wounded a tight fist around his wand, knuckles white as chalk.

Pleased that Granger had decided to keep her mouth finally clamped shut, Snape sneered in the uttermost triumph as he slowly withdrawn his wand from his pocket. He took all the time in the world to inwardly mused at how the girl looked absolutely petrified. She cautiously eyed him twirling his wand in one hand and then cross both arms over his chest like an overgrown bat.

"Back to work. Miss Granger.", said Snape coolly as he watched the rest of his students shift uncomfortably in their seats. The whites in his normally blackened eyes were shining with madness as the flames inside grew into a rapid flare.

"All of you! Now I say!", bit out the Potions Master wildly as he watched them all flinch away from his harsh tone , "Or else it's detention for the remainder of the year for you insufferable lot!"

Then of course, just when Severus thought such tormenting had ceased, Draco Malfoy was there to prove him wrong.

Severus was slithering back to his desk when he suddenly heard a pompous chuckle erupt from the other side of the room. With ears that were able to pick up the sound of a pin hitting a floor, Severus had carefully tuned in on his godson's next spoken words against his own will. Draco had already decided to make a comment along the lines of sarcasm to his house mates who were gathering around.

A chuckle coming from the boy had began it all, and for Severus had ended everything.

"Poor Poor Gryffindors. Detention? No house cup? No quiddich cup either? Well my fellow Slyterins, I believe that our time to shine has finally come, all thanks to Potter, of course, for soon to be not the- boy-who-lived but the-boy-who-died-pathetically. Just how he got so famous still has me stumped to this day."

"After all, he is good for nothing, just a burden. It's more the fact that he exists if you know what I mean..."

Draco paused dramatically as he leaned back into his chair with ease. His hands folded behind his head as a devilish grin sprouted from ear to bloody ear as if he was day dreaming up a fairytale, "Oh Potter, if only you can hear us now! If only you can perish into the lousy dirt just like your filthy, mudblood mother did to better our world for us purebloods."

Involuntarily Snape had came to an abrupt halt as Potter's solemn, dieing eyes flashed across his vision like an old black and white movie strip. He cracked. He died a little on the inside. And as if the flames were pouring out of his ears, his mouth, and his eyes the man had began to convulse.

Severus gave it his all just to kept his back turned to his class as if it was the only way that their lives could be spared.

Too late though... those black eyes snapped open to what he had failed to see; Had Harry Potter actually weaved his way into Snape's mind enough to make him want to defend the brat and not only just his life?

This was completely insane! Severus Snape taking the offense on Potter's offense?

Two deadly slits replaced his charcoal eyes as he stiffly turned around to see Draco laughing smugly amongst his peers like an intoxicated drunk.

Black robes bellowed dangerously from underneath the Potions Master until he was towering over the blond haired boy, brooding as he approached the younger with stealth. His teeth gritted into a snarl as the mockery went on. Still Snape couldn't put his finger on the familiarity of the situation.

Of course he was mad, of course he could not find fault with his original plan to strangle the insolent twit for speaking ill of Lily! He knew he had every reason to be livid with Draco for offending Potter's mother, but for offending her son? Well that was just absurd!

Severus was at a loss with regarding his ability to depict what had ticked him off more: Was it the comment made about Lily's blood or one about Potter's existence?

And had that particular comment Draco made about Potter been excatly the same words spoken about him by James Potter, many years ago?

'It's more of the fact that he exists if you know what I mean...'

And It was! Severus remebered that day as hell on earth! Something that he simply could not ignore.

Defending Lily's memory should have been easy, but it wasn't when Potter's face had flashed before him to remind him of why it could not be.

The Slyterins hysterics were immediately toned down when Draco finally found himself overtaken by the darkening shadow of his Professor. The laughter had died on his lips after he caught glimpse of the man's murderous expression. Severus, who was still shaking with an increasing unchecked temper, had barely managed to speak to the blond without cursing him there on the spot.

"There seems to be a problem here. Mr. Malfoy, would you kindly explain why you feel you are an exception in following directions and have the need to ruefully interrupt my classroom?", tersely asked the Professor between gritted teeth. He then cocked his head awkwardly to the side and folded his arms more stiffly across his chest than he had done with Granger. Malfoy did not miss to see how the man had not yet pocketed his wand and instead was twisting the thing slowly between his elongated fingers. The bitterness in Severus's voice couldn't have been anymore evident as he watched his godson's crossed expression turn into one full of terror.

"Well Draco?", he pushed.

The blond's Adams apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed nothing. A nervous smirk replaced his sly one at once.

"Oh theres no problem here at all, Professor. I was only discussing with Crabb and Goyal about the assignment. Honestly", insisted Draco as he ran a hand through his sleek blond hair.

Snape mused to himself how ironic this ordeal was, because to his horror, the exact display of hair ruffling was shockingly similar to that of his old enemy. As if the world didn't have enough Potters, there also had to be one in his own house!

"Interesting.", Snape drawled venomously, "Because if I'm not mistaken I believe I had just heard you express your ideals rather clearly, Mr. Malfoy. Are you certain there is nothing else you would like to share on the subject or perhaps also with regarding your open concern for Mr. Potter's wellbeing?"

Stunned senseless all Malfoy could do was blankly stare up at his Professor disbelieving what he had just heard; that Snape was in the mist of reprimanding him about bashing Potter and what not. Draco could never ask why, so instead of the boy shook his head to deny it, "Umm...No, nothing at all, Sir. Of course not, Sir, I didn't...I didn't mean...well I certainly didn't say anything like that!"

Severus raised a single eyebrow at this yet his facial features still remained completely unreadable.

"Oh really?", purred out the sarcastic comment of the Potions Master.

And what happened next made every students' jaw drop to the ground in pure astonishment. Many were stunned as they watched as their Potions Professor flicked his wand, thus forcing Draco Malfoy out of a relaxed position and into a upright stance.

"Umm...Professor? What are you-"

But a yelp of surprise had caught up in the blond teen's throat after Severus' lashed out his wand yet another time. In a split second Draco was sent spiraling forwards until his stomach and ribs had collided roughly with the edge of his desk. Seconds afterwards his chair had followed suit by sandwiching the lanky body in between.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you are-ow!-doing?-OWWW!", exclaimed Draco as he glanced up angrily at the looming dark figure. Stone like as always, Severus did not budge. The only movement radiating off the man were his lips, which were automatically moistened as he scowled downwards at his godson.

"Fixing your atrocious posture for a start", casually answered the Potions Master. With another relentless flick of the wand, Severus' caused the young Malfoy to be pressed more forcibly into the wood with no mercy intended in the least. Insolent mistakes were NOT going to be tolerated anymore, Severus was sure of that.

But the man did not feel the slightest pity for his godson as he watched the boy struggle to get free, squirming like a worm in the process. The Ex Death Eater's thin lips twitched upwards into a sadistic smile, charcoal eyes gleamed with many hardhearted intentions of the killer he had once been.

"But of course there is still plenty left to be done here. Perhaps a little persuasion is all I need in order to prompt a more befitting answer to my question. Isn't that so, Mr. Malfoy?" , asked the Ex Deatheater in a voice that was deadly calm. Draco tried to surpress a whimper but had promptly failed as the Potions Master wand remained flicked upwards. He did not let up at all on the spell as Draco's ribcage was slammed ruthlessly again and against the wooden frame.

"Stop! Ouchhh! I didn't-YEEOWWW!!! My father will hear about this! You just wait!", cried the boy as he was literally keeled over the table in pain.

In an instant, Severus had swooped down on his student like the overgrown bat he was known for being, his features were wry, and his lips parted ever so slightly

"How very unlikely.", came his waspish whisper, " Afterall, your father is a very very busy man, and I would surly just hate to disturb him for something so petty. I beg to differ that he would take kindly to such news that his son has been foolishly firing off his mouth at every given chance to do so, wouldn't you agree, Draco? Now..."

Obviously in no mood to be lenient, Severus bluntly asserted his temper by grabbing a fist full of the boy's blond's hair. Draco whimpered aloud and cried out as his dignity was being striped from his back just as easily as an elf's clothing. Primal fear kicked into gear for the young Malfoy as he then had no other choice but to lock eyes with his superior.

"Restrain this pathetic display of lack of self control at once! And do so before you land yourself in more trouble than you're notably worth. Any more of this nonsense, Mr. Malfoy, and you'll find yourself hexed into this position until curfew. You are not above the rules and in case this fact was disregarded in previous years: detention will go for Slytherin as well. Now do I make myself clear or must I spell it out for you?"

Snape still frame shook in rage as the Slyertin boy struggled through his final attempt of resistance. Of course Draco had quickly surrendered by finding that cowering underneath the man's scathing stare was much easier than fighting it.

"Ok ok...Owww!...Ahhh! Oooowww!...alright I get it! Just let me-OOOOWWWW-GO! Merlin!", exclaimed the Slyterin wildly as Snape continued to glare furiously. Still not satisfied, Severus yanked up on the boy's bleach blond hair.

Malyfoy was yet again bashed into the desk, "I mean 'Sir'!... I'm sorry sir!"

Fortunatly Malfoy had not wanted there to be any confusion as he repeated his last words, "I'm sorry" and had submissively snaped his neck into an insisting head nod. Sevrus, aloof and hard to read, then finally released his hold on the boy's hair. In attempt to seem genially apologetic, Malyfoy bowed his head. The pained stricken, slightly anguished expression on the teen's face had also furthermore made the regretful display rather convincing.

At first nothing happen, Draco remained squashed between the two objects like a bug. Then as Snape stalked off, the binding spell he had placed on the brat's body had lifted. Draco's compressed form flopped forward exhaustedly, his tongue lolled right out the side of his mouth.

Storming to the front of the room, the Potions Professor imagined that the gawking expressions of his students were not there.

But they were!

He was obviously not imaging anything. This nightmare was real: Severus Snape had literally throttled his own godson, a Slyterin, for talking rubbish about Potter, the boy who he was suppose to not give a damn about!

The venom in Severus's voice, nor that haunted look in those cracking black orbs of stone, could not be missed by any of the fifth years in the room. There were jaws dropping, eyes widening in bewilderment, in shock, and in unbelievability as Severus Snape marched out of the classroom and into his office where he bellowed one lasting and final, "GET BACK TO WORK!" before slamming the door in full force.

Out of the corner of his blackened pupils, the potions master was able to see the bewilderment flashing behind the young faces. He couldn't blame them, he was so confused at himself as well. How he just acted was unexcusable, he could not believe he had sunken so low...

But of course, only a certain Harry Potter could have that effect on him.

It was only a moment after Severus had slammed the blasted door that the sound of, yet again, more breaking glass bounced off his office walls. A whole rack of vials fell from their shelf from the slam of the door, and smashed onto his floors. The scarier part was this: it took only a fraction of a second for Severus to remember the sound of glass breaking on a child's head...

A rush or air blew out from behind him suddenly and had caused Severus to turn around to face his fire place as greens flames flared in alarm. A familiar voice called for him from within.

"Professor Snape?", asked the voice that Severus knew all to well.

Severus decided just then to stop pinching the bridge of his nose and instead, dragged himself over to the fire place to hear the confirmed identity.

"It's Madam Promfrey. May I floo into your office for a few minutes, Professor?"

"Certainly.", was his curtly reply.

How could he say no? He was no longer allowed to because once again, Severus had no control of the situation or where his damned life was heading.

In a matter of a minute, the green flames roared and out came the little medi-witch, Madam Promfey. With eyes uneasily with knowledge, and with hands jumbling with anticipation, Severus bloody well knew that something was dearly troubling the little witch. Her mouth was drawn in tight, unchanging frown, and one that Severus was all too familiar with during these grueling drawn out days.

If only the news wasn't about Potter...

If only it wasn't, Severus wanted to beg to differ as he watched the medi-witch open her mouth as if to say something and then close it again to reconsider her unspoken words. Severus did not care this time that he did not even attempt to repress such a restless sigh from escaping his battered throat.

'If only it wasn't Potter...'

A dreadful mind grain had also decided to spring upon him for the lovely occasion because just as he brought a hand to his pounding forehead one and only one thing had crossed his thoughts;

'oh but it was.'

Madam Promfy remained as stiff as a broomstick, cautiously and confusedly taking in the bizarre sight. Severus was viciously accioing several vials of different potions from his cabinets and drawers. To Poppy, it appeared as if the office was having a major meltdown, and not only that was true but the man who thrived within was not too far off from having one himself. Actually he probably was. The enervated mind of Severus Tobias Snape was literally reeling from all his pent up frustration towards the whole Potter ordeal that has been taunting him cruelly since Dumbledore had forced the boy-who-lived upon his shoulders. Thankfully he had not gone completely barmy yet by knowing that his thoughts about Potter were flying faster than he was whipping those vials across the room.

Must the boy find ways to torment me even when he is not even in my classroom to do so? wondered the berserk Severus as he had hurled several potions across his office at his unwelcome visitor.

Nevertheless, it was extraordinary that the man still had some sanity left to be able to control his inapplicable actions. While releasing his anger, Snape very carefully made sure that the speeding potions would come to an abrupt halt before gently settling in front of his guest to take. The snarky Potions Master gathered his pent up temper to the best of his ability and exhaled.

'There shall be no more broken glass in this office!" He silently swore himself.

Again, remembering way too much and forgetting way too little, Potter's fading emerald eye's flashed again in front of his sight without warning. Ruggedly he threw up his shields and yanked the memory out of his head before it snagged.

"What does the boy need now?", infuriatingly asked Severus Snape with his eyes challenging the other.

"Pain relievers? sleeping droughts? Fever reducing potions? Here take them all!"

The hot tempered man then had more potions soaring twards the mediwitch in seconds. Luckily, Poppy was very skilled with her wand as she withdrew it quickly from her pocket, pointed it at the whirling vials, and one by one made them disappear in a resounding pop. Beady eyes had expanded several sizes at the dark man's uncalled for, aggressiveness and unacceptable behavior. Affronted and completely besides herself, Poppy let out a loud huff. Severus knew then and there that he was messing with the wrong witch.

"Severus Snape!"

At the sound of her tone, the man's cheeks grew hot and a blush flushed across his pallid cheeks. Had he not of acted out so childishly perhaps then he would've had the chance to be treated like an adult by her. Ashamed, he turned his back on the woman and preceded to go on as if he had just not acted like a complete mental case out of Azkabam.

"More calming droughts perhaps?", asked Severus lamely, hoping that mediwitch would not insist in him downing one himself.

"Severus...", Poppy continued but unable to say more, the Potions Master headed over to his largest cabinet filled to brim with many different jars of ingredients and potions. In a frenzy he thrust open the cabinet door and removed several large jars from inside. The man bore a rather painful expression on his face as he turned around with the two jars at hand. His forehead had crinkled uneasily. Beads of sweat had already started to form there and in the corners of his dark, swollen eyes which were sagging downward from exhaustion.

"Soothing balm? Scar remover paste?"

Severus clenched the bridge of his nose with a free hand after he wrestled the jars underneath his arm and hosted them over to the desk where his perplexed visitor awaited. The aching sensation in his head was wailing out in full force, and Poppy's reprimanding voice was no help.

"Severus!", scolded the medi-witch as she placed both of her hands on top of her hips.

Unfortunately, the abrupt reprimand had done more than make the drained wizard snap out of his absent-minded state. He had recoiled away from her like a serpent after he had practically jumped out of his skin.

Subconsciously, Snape's swear from before had not lasted very long as the two jars of balm and paste slipped out from beneath his arms. He jerked away, shocked.

SMASH!!!!!!

Severus had cringed when he heard that terrible sound. Again.

And just as the glass shattered into a sea of shimmering light, that same infernal memory plowed right through his occumency shields as if they had not been there in the first place. This time Severus was powerless to remove what was smacking him right in the face.

Victimized by his own mind, the green eyed boy was there to haunt him, to remind Snape of what he had started, and what he nearly had caused...

Severus ruthlessly grabbed two fistful of his greasy locks of hair and began to pull. Hard.

Poppy hesitantly crept closer to the distraught man wondering just what terrible thing was irking him... or rather destroying him.

"Oh dear...", murmured Poppy as she lifted her wand and pointed it at the sea of potions and paste that were brilliantly tainting the cobblestoned floor. Only the Potions Master knew just how similar the splattering of the potions were to Potter's blood which had stained his office (and his mind) only a mere week ago.

"Here, allow me...", insisted Poppy as she pointed her wand at the accumulating mess. Black eyes snapped open just afterwards.

"NO!", shouted Snape as he caused the other to turn towards him abruptly.

Poppy's tiny beaded eyes widened in fear of him just like so many eyes have done in the past. How could they not? People were always afraid, and they had good reasons to be. He was an Ex Death Eater after all, for that fact alone, he was a monster. A killer. Not that he minded it much, Severus actually preferred others to jump whenever he entered a room. It was better off that way that nobody could ever get too close, not that he would allow it it anyway. Never again would be the cause of one to perish from his touch. It had all started with her...

Lily.

His mind reeled off again as he stiffened a flustered moan. Lily Evans was the best thing that had ever happened to him and somehow had seen in him much more than just the greasy hair, large ugly nose, and pale skin. As a little girl, she had really put a spin on his world, his heart, and his whole entire life.

As a child, Snape could not understand how he could be more than a failure. Afterall, he grew up having been called a "freak" for the majority of his childhood and life by his abusive muggle father. It wasn't hard to except the nickname Snivilus either. Tears had always found a way to sneak into his eyes, he just couldn't get anything right!

His mother had been one who loved him by trying to do what was best for her son. Despite how her magic was practically beaten out of her by that treacherous muggle, she had still tried her best to sooth his pain. Elaine Prince had struggled, Severus saw this and as he got older(and grew darker), had wanted to put an end to his father's abuse for good. Unfortunatly it had been too late. Of course that woeful summer of Severus' fourth year he received the beating of his life by Tobias Snape, who had solely blamed him for the cause of her death. Even tho it was his father's missdeeds who made her ill and eventually killed her, Severus blamed himself for what happened...that he could have saved her someway, but didn't do a thing.

Lily was still there, seeing what nobody else did; that he wasn't a monster,that he wasn't a burden or a bane of existence, and that he had a purpose, that he could help people...that he was good.

Then she died, just like his mother had. All because of him.

He blamed himself.

There was nobody left to tell him that he wasn't a monster, that he wasn't a failure. There was nobody left who could possibly see if there was any good in him other than what was to fear. Nobody else could see that there might be something, a chance of goodness there in a heart that has grown cold and so bitter.

Nobody but her had seen him. Nobody else was able to understand.

...and Severus didn't want anyone else to dare try.

Breath, Severus, Breath.

This was the command. He obeyed.

Air seeped inside his battered lungs, and then slowly he released it, calming himself in the process. Unconsciously Snape brought a hand up to his temple, pin-pointed the pressured area with the cold tips of his fingers, and massaged the obscure pain. With all his remaining strength left, Severus tried to sooth away the dreadful source that was bashing into what was left of his brains.

"No. no... It's fine", said Severus in a voice that held too much despair for him to accept.

With two swift movements of his own wand the broken shards of glass came together as one restored with it's contents safely inside.

Severus just wished that it was just as easy to repair Harry Potter as it was to repair a broken jar. He would have offered everything he had to fix the boy now.

"Just tell me what potions you need.", pronounced Severus much more calmly than he had been moments before. His posture became composed, his facial expression numb, and his movement became flowing instead of rigid.

However, Snape was not prepared when Madam Poppy gave him a weak smile

"Harry doesn't need anymore potions, Professor. In fact... he's been doing fairly well."

Severus then whirled around and in his expression was a sense of disbelief. Potter's name was enough to rattle him up as it was, but there was Poppy, who had arrived into his office and appearing as if the boy kicked the bucket.

Instead it all turned out that all she wanted to tell him was that Potter was actually doing well!

Had he just lost his mind for no reason?

He was shocked senseless again as he mildly listened to the mediwitch continue onwards in a pleasant matter about Potter while he, evil Ex Death Eater, inwardly seethed at the ridiculous situation she brought him into.

As if being a mentor was enough! Was he the boy's personal Healer now as well?

"His fever is gone and he's been eating good with the help of some stomach enhancing potions. What is ever so pleasing is that the boy is adjusting to his environment fairly well, but hes still quit weary whenever I'm around him at certain times. Never the less, Mr. Potter is much more comfortable than he was when we awokened him out of his unconscious state last week.", announced Poppy, the ounce of hope in her voice could not be mistaken.

Then something was disturbed, Severus watched closely as the mediwitch dropped her eyes to the table. The small wrinkles that appeared underneath her sullen eyes were just as pronounced as the sneer that formed on his lips.

"He's been talking more everyday." This should have been a good thing but Poppy looked quite fazed by something that Severus did not know of. The women sighed and shook her head which only left Severus more angry than he had been before. Being oblivious did not suit his patience very well.

The sneer on his face had failed to falter even from her last words. Curiosity would have overridden him if he wasn't so hot headed.

"Then why in the name of merlin are you here standing as you are inside of my office?", growled the quick tempered man through clenched teeth.

Long trembling hands grabbed onto the desk for support as Severus miraculously remained on his feet. He could feel his nails digging unpleasantly into the carvings sketched into it's prestige wooden surface.

Poppy snapped her head up with dignity and her small frame became unmoving.

"No need to be rude to me, Severus, I am only here to ask of a favor and report to you about the boy's well being."

her narrow brows crumpled in confusion, "I must say though, I thought you would be pleased with the news seeing how the boy will be in your charge as soon as tomorrow comes."

Severus straightened his stance and pulled back his shoulders, but he could not control his black, oily curtains of hair from falling in front of his face.

"Don't remind me.", returned Snape with a glare. Fortunately for her, she did not even attempt. Instead, the witch chosen to remain silent until Severus decided to pop the question that he rather not.

"What favor do you ask of me.", he quietly drawled. It didn't sound like much of a question.

Shocked he was then when his gaze landed on a small mirror behind her. For the first time that week, Severus saw how completely disastrous he looked. His greasy locks were dangling in a heap of tangled sweat, and his eyes were sunken in from the lack of sleep that was spent concocting Potter's memory replenishing potion. The the bags that had formed underneath his eyes were sagging and had turned into an inky purple against his ashen skin.

The man had barely slept at all since he landed Potter in the infirmary, and when he attempted he found it very difficult. When he tried to sleep, he kept waking up in the middle of the night soaked head to toe in a sweat. Dreaming about Potter 's all knowing expression, and that look of understanding was more like a nightmare than anything else. Severus never wanted to see that look on the boys face ever again, so instead of taking dreamless sleep potions, he stayed awake. Afterall, a Occmency Master was much above the use of such potions.

"I am wondering if you would be able to keep an eye on Mr. Potter tonight."

A split second later, Severus looked like he was about to argue until the mediwitch added in quickly, "I won't be here." He closed his mouth and made her suffer a noble scowl instead.

"Why is that so?", gruffly asked the Potions Master. Poppy shrugged.

"I'm afraid St. Mungles is in need of my aid in controlling a new strain of dragon pox that has sprung lose there. Unfortunately, it's going to take the full night to get everything under control which means I won't be back to check up on Mr. Potter tonight."

"I thought", Severus stressed with a hint of malice in his voice, "you said that he was fine."

Again, it was not said as a question but Poppy knew how to take it. She was really the only other person besides Dumbledore who was ever able to handle the man's quick temper.

"He still is in need of a night watch, Mr. Snape. Professor McGonagal and I have been taking shifts with the job but she is unable to cover for me tonight.", said Poppy very slowly as if she was speaking to a five year old. Her eye's were childing and if Severus was still a young school boy, he might have quivered his lip. Instead, the Potions Master eyed her suspiciously.

"And why, may I ask, can she not? She is his Head after all."

Charcoal eyes narrowed enough to pester the little mediwitch for more. The sad thing was that it actually worked. He saw her weaken, Poppy's form swayed in place unsure of the words she wanted to use. Beady eyes darted to the side in attempt to avoid his cool black ones like before.

Oh! What an annoyance that she keeps dodging him!

"Many of the younger Gryffindor children have been going to her because of Umbridge's detentions.", she explained uneasily, "She's going to be meeting with them later on."

But there was something else that Poppy was not telling Snape. The mediwitch was holding something inside that was deeply bothering her , something that was lounging around uneasily from within.

"Mr. Potter has been having nightmares.", Poppy finally admitted, after slowly bringing up her concerned, beady, black eyes to match the Potions Master's bigger, aloof ones.

Poppy seemed disturbed when Severus broke eye contact so suddenly. Did he really want to know? He couldn't take much more of Potter, but he had to wonder what the boy was like during the past week.

"Severus", came her voice, more gentler this time. He sharply glanced back at Poppy trying to be numb himself again. The only hint of anxiety he showed was how his fingernails were still making grand indents into the desk he was gripping onto. The two glass jars beside him continued to mock him gruesomely for his misdeeds.

He was dangerous, he destroyed everything he touched! Potter being one of them because of that jar of dead cockroaches incident! It was no surprise to the Potions Master that this child must suffer now because of what he did, Poppy closed her eyes hoping her wording was right.

"I think they have something to do with you."

And her wording couldn't have been anymore damn true. They also penetrated much more than just his mind, but also the coldest of hearts belonging to a man that nobody would dare look upon as anything other than what he was; a monster.

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

"Severus?", Poppy grew worried as she watched the younger man push out his chair, fling it out behind him, and slump right into the seat like an old rag doll.

The man made a jester with his free hand, the one that wasn't on his forehead, to the chair across from his,

"You may sit if you like."

Feeling that something was put off and needed to be discuss, the mediwitch took the offer and sat down. She had never seen Severus look so dreary and bent out of shape before, or at least not since that Halloween night when the Potters had perished by the wand of he-who-must-not-be-named. And so, the Potions Master removed the sweaty palm from his forehead looking no doubtfully ill.

"Professor Snape, are you all right?"

He looked dizzy, his eyes were drooping from pure exhaustion as well. Poppy had also noted that the wizard must have paled several shades whiter in that past minute. Was Severus so worried about Potter that he had worked himself up to this awful state? That's what Poppy had thought when she first stepped into his office, but now even that was hard to believe by seeing how crazed he was becoming. But the Professor couldn't be concerned about Potter, could he?

Didn't he hate the boy?

It was a fact that he did. This was made very clear to her and the rest of the staff at Hogwarts that Professor Snape mistreated the child due to the history shared between the man and the boy's father. After all, she had known what Severus' past was like when Harry Potter's father and godfather were all children. They acted very crudely to the child Snape and since the moment that Potter number two had entered his first year, she knew that the adult Snape was going to act very cruel to child Harry for revenge. There was no doubt that Poppy's predictions were proved correct.

"Can I get you a potion?"

Poppy had thought that due to Potter's head injury things between the two might have changed. Severus had seemed like he had cared for the boy back in the infirmary, she had seen him protect him from them all when Potter had been sobbing. She had known these changes could have been because of Potter's mother, Lily. Severus and her have been the best of friends through most of their years at Hogwarts, so it was assumed that Severus would be up for the job of caring for Harry only because of what had happened to her. Poppy could remember talking to the Headmaster on that faithful night, he had explained to her how remorseful Severus was and Poppy then couldn't believe that the man was capable of such emotions... but yet he was.

Still, from seeing Severus' head explode as such and in the way he had thrown himself into such a change made Poppy rather suspicious. Something had to happen that she didn't know about.

"No thankyou. I'm fine."

The dark man's reply was too calm to be true. Poppy was so sure of it and when she looked into Severus' usually stony expression and noticed how it cracked ever so slightly enough to reveal something that was more alive, something more feeling.

She stared, "Is everything alright?"

The man's glare couldn't have been any more pronounced than it already was, "I'm fine, Poppy.", he said dead seriously. The little mediwitch wasn't going to let the situation of his health drop so quickly but Severus took the opportunity to change the subject.

"Tell me about Potter's nightmares. You have said that they were about me."

The demand wasn't grueling, but merely curious. There were not many times when Severus was interested in such matters, especially ones that were about that boy. Yet, she couldn't help but conclude that something life-altering had occurred between the two. Here he was, Professor Snarky Snape, strangely intrigued by what she had to say about Potter.

Oh, where to start... pondered the mediwitch.

"And when exactly did these silly fantasies start occurring? If you can not give him a dreamless sleep potion because he's still a delirious little delinquent then I can not help you." , silky retorted the Head of Slytherin.

His cunning expression had made her fume but at the same time had also made her wonder what he was trying to cover up. There was no doubt that Severus was hiding something. After all, Poppy had seem how the man's mind worked for many years now. The man was able to throw insults at people better than a chasewr was able to score in quiddich. The man was miserable, he hid behind his cruelty because thats what was easier for him; to turn everyone away who wanted to help.

"They aren't dreams Severus. They are memories returning to him, the same ones every night, and you very well know it.", snapped she with anger getting the best of her.

"What happened to him? The truth this time if you please."

Severus remained in his seat, she could tell from the mild shifts in his facial expression that he was trying to contain his greatest intension of exploding again. She gulped figuring that putting the blame on the man was not the best idea in the book, but what is said is done.

"What ever are you talking about?", scronfully exclaimed the Potions Master , "Potter is suffering from a serious head injury. His mind is simply confused, after all the boy's mind has never been anything more then...", he leaned back in his chair and his eyes lit up in brilliant amusement as a nasty smirk formed on his dry lips, "...primitive. That is of course, unless you believe otherwise."

Madam Promfey crossed her arms over her chest. "Well I do."

Severus' eyebrows shot up with mild surprise.

"His head is fine, Severus. It's his memories that aren't."

"It started the night after the incident.", began Poppy eying the younger wizard carefully. Snape was doing the same, his eyes wanting to rip the suspicions out of her head.

"He would start out moaning, but then he'd mumble. For one thing, he kept on saying your name over and over again." Poppy repeated to Severus what Potter had said in his slumber the first night, " Leave him alone. Leave Snape alone! Please don't..."

Severus, who was originally leaning back in his chair in a relaxed position, slowly sat up. His expression remained the same though; cold and bored. Poppy kept trying to explain, but she couldn't portray the emotions that were racking through the boy's body those nights as well as she would have wanted to. There eyes met again, and this time she felt the other man probing dangerously around in such uncharted territory. Dumbledore had mentioned before about Severus being gifted in legimency, but too bad though that she was being targeted.

"Eventually he settled down when I gave him a calming drought. A dreamless sleep wouldn't be good for him when his mind is still so weak. But It didn't help the next night, he only got worse. He was shaking like a leaf, and looking terrified of something... or rather somebody." She gave the Head of Slytherin a noble glare but, just like always, he was not fazed.

"He started to shout...your name again.", she paused as her head started to pound, "He was begging...", she paused and broke eye contact with the younger man. It was as if her mind was being penetrated too roughly, like the man did not want to believe it true.

"He.. wanted you to forgive him, Severus...or to understand something because he kept saying the same thing over and over again; me too, Snape. Me too..."

Severus shook his head and allowed his voice to grow stern, "The boy is just rambling nonsense. Did you not ask him if he remembered the dream the following morning?"

"Oh I asked him.", Poppy tersly stated, "He couldn't recall anything that happened that night. But the next few nights were different after that. He was screaming and sobbing and acting as if he was being hurt!"

Severus eyes narrowed in two dangerous slits, "Impossible!" his calmness was cracking, yet Poppy still dared to push him for more.

"Severus, It had gotten so bad that I had to wake the boy up... and for a few moments when he was awake he was--well, it seemed to me that he was back to his old self."

There was nothing but silence in the room as realization dawned upon the other.

At that Severus was now leaning forward in his seat, waiting apprehensively for the rest. His charcoal orbs were non the less glistening in wonder as he flipped a greasy strand of hair out of his pallid face.

"A few moments he had his head", said Severus more to himself rather than to Poppy as his eyes seem to focus elsewhere. The black curtains fell back over the man's dark features, hiding what needed to be.

"What happened afterwards I could only assume the worse."

Poppy sighed and folded her hands on the desk in front of her confirming his statement. She twiddled her thumbs nervously and selected her next words carefully.

"I was able to tell because of his eyes. They were so bright and lively when he awoken, but then they clouded over again. Faded away as if everything had left him just as quick as it came."

Severus looked absolutely destroyed as Poppy continue on. His mouth was now left hanging slightly agape as he remained transfixed into nowhere.

"When I asked him what he remembered all he asked me was if you were angry with him. I asked him why he thought that."

--Silence--

"What did Potter say?"

Something had shifted in his eyes just then, something beyond extraordinary. It was remarkable how hard his eyes were, but as they cracked they had completed him in someway. Cracking stones were just like filling in an inevitable void. They were cold, but at the same time it was like he melting the ice away.

Change was happening, but he was still himself. To the naked eye, one wouldn't notice the change at all in Severus. It was so unnoticeable that Poppy had first figured that it just could be a trick of the lighting in the room. She was no fool to this, because at that moment in time those bleak, condemning eyes were forever altered. Forever changed.

The silence was torture to Severus. He couldn't take silence no more than he could take The Dark Lord's most severe cruciatus curse. At this moment in time though, he would have gladly taken any curse that his "Master" would have in store for him, especially if the killer was to learn that he is the new carer of Harry Potter.

"Tell me what his exact words to you were", demanded Severus but the demand lacked everything he wanted to it have; the malice and the anger.

There was no maliciousness in his voice, no snarky remarks, no sly comments, no nothing. He was an empty man left with nothing but his solemn thoughts.

Severus didn't know how to act in such ways anymore because all he could see in Poppy's mind was Potter, his cheeks blemished and streaked in hot tears.

He looked at the memory carefully and could sense the anger she held towards Severus. Her suspicions were clear that he had something to do with the boy's injuries, but she was too afraid to push any further than she was going to. Then suddenly the image was release, the mediwitch had forced him out of her mind as if to say "See it for yourself." Her beaded eyes were full of hurt.

She didn't look so fearful anymore and it was probably because of this; Severus wasn't going to hurt this boy ever again. Poppy knew that she was speaking for Harry now.

"To me regarding you?", said Poppy with tears welling up in her eyes. Severus dourly shook his head. Did he...did he really want to hear it?

"He wants you, Severus...to understand something. I don't know what that is, but he wanted you to know that he wasn't going to tell anyone."

Severus heard a sob escape her throat and watched her turn away from his gaze. Bemusement was burning in her eyes as much as realization burned in his own.

How many more nights will it take for the boy to remember what Severus had done to him?

It was only mere moments after his shock that Poppy had turned her back on him and started to drag her feet back over to the fire place. She turned her head to the side before snatching up a handful of floo powder off his mantle place.

"Harry will see to you at eight o' clock after I depart from the school. Umbridge is aware, be on your toes but mark my word, Severus, she will not propose a threat. The boy is in a privately warded off room that will keep him hidden from everyone else. The wards will only be open to you and myself."

But before Severus had the chance to speak as his mouth hung slightly agape from his wild thought processing, the little mediwitch stepped into the fire place. She threw down the floo powder at her feet and had disappeared into the intensity of the green flames, leaving the Potions Master staring dumbfounded at the vacant spot. There he remained motionless as he watched the green flames dwindle to down nothing but ash.

FLASHBACK::

Two minutes. It had taken him only that long to run from the dungeons to the infirmary as soon as he discovered what happened, and what they've done to...    

"Lily!", shouted Severus. All at once the small form flung open the doors and dumped himself inside. Clumsy as usual, the first year slyterin got caught up in his dangling school uniform, had tripped and fallen to the ground. Having scraped a knee upon his landing, the boy groaned in great displeasure. Finally when the boy's conflicting thoughts stirred, he felt two gentle hands helped him up onto his feet.

"Really? Mr. Snape?", said the sudden voice of a certain mediwitch.

The boy's knees quickly buckled out from under his lanky body. However the helping hands stayed constistant when he teetered forward. . Severus would have shrugged off the kindness of those hands but he was too busy scaning over the white cots ,searching for her face..

"Severus, are you listening to me?", asked Madam Promfrey as she dusted off the child's robes as a favor.

"W-Where's Lily? Is-is she going to b-be ok? Madam?", stuttered the boy, his face went paler than the usual. Severus lifted his eyes up to the nurse with doubt instead of the mistrusting look he normally sported; one that would be sure to age into bitterness in later years.
Poppy gave the youth a small but reassuring smile to indicate that all was well.

"Yes, dear. She's going to be just fine you'll see. Her fever is a bit high, but I gave her a fever reducing potion to lower it."
Youthful obsidian eyes, ones that would eventually age into remorse, blinked with innocent curiosity at the other.

"Come along now, Severus." , said the medi-witch as she beckoned the timid Snape forward. Normally a mistrusting of sort, Severus followed his guide without much hesitation. Poppy then gently took him by the shoulder and guided him down several rows of cots. The boy was growing restless as he barged onwards.

"She was sleeping when Mr. Potter and his friends came for a visit", began Poppy to the scowling young boy.

A humored smirk replaced the witch's lips as the younger snorted at the mentioning of the mischievous Muarader gang. Still, the witch continued all knowingly.

"Unfortunately for them, they had to be turned away so that Miss Evans could rest. Lucky for you though, Mr. Snape, your friend should be awakening soon."
Madam Pomfrey then gave Severus another reassuring smile as they came to the next bed. And so it happened immediately, the little boy eyed the other small form, a body that was laying under crumpled sheets. Cautiously he creped closer to the bedside, his eyes then flashed with surprise after seeing that the form was her, the girl. His Lily.

How could anyone mistaken the bright, wavy locks of red hair sprawling over the pillow as not Lily's? Still, there was no doubt that she was ill. The girl's soft porcelain skin had swelled in fever and her freckled features had blistered her flushed cheeks. Sweat had formed in beads on her forehead as well, indicating a recently broken fever.This girl certainly did not look well, and Severus was still afraid that it wouldn't be his friend when she awakens. With the dark circles that framed about her eyes, how can Severus possibly know that such eyes wouldn't be forever altered? This was something that the child had feared at that perticular moment; that Lily would be different. Changed in someway...

Then suddenly, when the boy thought all hope was lost, those eyes opened and unchanged they remained. Emerald greens had bore directly into concerned onyx ones and sparked when they clashed. Severus sighed in his relief that such lovely bright orbs hadn't faded along with the rest of the girl's body. A gleeful smile passed over Lily's dreary expression until she bolted up from her bed.

"Severus!", exclaimed the hysterical girl as she flung herself at his petite frame. Severus stilled immediately as he was engulfed by the surprisingly bone crushing hug from the girl. It was a wonder to Snape where all of Lily's strength was coming from when her body was so frail looking and weakened.

"Miss Evans!", warned the mediwitch after giving young Lily a reprimanding glare. Lily then very slowly pulled away from Severus who had turned purple from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. The girl's cheeks flushed over her blistered face in embarrassment as well.

That, however was only until the stubbornness and rebounding energy flourished from within the ill girl. Such a liveliness in his friend was a trait that Severus himself admired greatly and secretly wished that he too could have.

"But Madam, I feel perfectly fine!" exlaimed the girl. It was a terrible lie, Lily unfortunately was not blessed with a Slyterin's talents in that department. And despite her words, she winced back in pain after she leaned forward.

Still, Snape felt it was worth a shot. "And my fever broke...can't I just go for a walk with Severus, if only for a little while. PPlleeeassse?" The girl was yearning for privacy to talk to Severus alone, that he could see, but Poppy was not favoring the idea in the least.

"Absolutely not, Miss Evans", came the dreaded response, "but Severus is allowed to stay and keep you company until his curfew. You are to not leave this bed, Understood? Your joints are still very stiff and you're in no condition to be moving about." Severus watched as the women approached.

"Would you like your temperature to return and rise above 103 degrees again, Miss Evans? If that is to occur, then I'll be forced to transfer you to Saint Mungles for the rest of the week." The news was a shock to Severus but Lily had only pouted as if it was no big deal at all, like a fever was nothing more than a common cold.

What a wonder that such a reaction of hers was expected from such a rebounding personal. However the flaming green eyes did have a weakness. Little Severus Snape administered his very own stern but completely concerned glare. It was important that Lily respected her own health.

    "No, Madam I wouldn't enjoy that.", grumbled Lily after she met the young Snapes disproving frown.
   "Very well then." said Madam promfey as she turned to leave ,"I'll be back with some potions in an hour."
The two children sat in silence untill the mediwtich vanished from the infirmary.
   "Oh Sev!", exclaimed the redhead once they were finally alone. She threw her arms around the boy for a second time. "I'm so happy to see you!"

Severus felt a blush overcome his placid cheek bones, and despite how sickly Lily appeared to be, her bone crushing hug did not cease to lessen in force. After a few minutes past by the boy then gently detached himself from her hold.

    "Who did it, Lils?", questioned Severus seriously. Lily's eyes found her lap when she declined to answer him. Serverus was startled. "Lily?", he softly asked. Since when has the girl never told him anything?

Almost instantly a flash of more pain shot through the girl's dour expression, one which Severus felt guilty for seeing and for possibly being the reason that she was in the infirmary to begin with. If only he had gotten there in time...

"I-I was walking by myself and...well these slytherins...they just surrounded me and..."

Tangling her words with raw emotions, Lily looked besides herself. Then it hit him. All of what had pained her; the  Anger, mistrust, betrayal... and everything Severus never wanted to see directed towards him from his friend just was. The boy felt as if his heart had sank fifty feet bellow.

"You told me that-" she paused "That it didn't matter! that awful word...that it meant nothing!!" Lily's green eyes striped him down naked as he shrank away from her as if he been burnt.

"How could you lie to me like that?"
Confused, Severus didn't know how to react to such an accusation, but sensing that he had wronged her in someway.... again, had cringed away more in retreat.

"W-what?" he dumbly replied feeling like an imbecile for not knowing what she was talking about, "I don't understand." In all honest truth he really did not. The boy racked his brains for answers but none came up.

"They were calling me that foul name before they hexed me...", spat the girl out quickly. She was more than livid as she stammered.

" They called me a..." Again his heart sank as he watched her struggle, no doubt was it painful. Only then was Severus able to clearly see that the emerald green had glazed over in anguish, "A...a..."

'Please don't say it' Silently begged the boy.

"A Mudblood!"

But within the eruption from Lily came the defeat.  Her wail was much like that of every great warrior who ever lost a part of themselves in a war. All her energy and the despair, collided together brillantly and then she crashed. The girl collapsed into herself, falling into a heap on her pillow as her hands gripped the cushions like a life source and balled into fist. Emotions.

Severus's eyes widened in surprise as he took two unsure steps away from her. Such feelings he could not understand, yet something had paused him in his retreat. He was afraid, there was no doubt that he feared chancing to discover when his friend's pent up anger was going lash out at him again. But fear was nothing compared to when Lily obviously needed someone for her to hold onto.
It had to be him. Severus took the chance anyway. He figured that he deserved whatever that was going to be thrown his way if his decision was all for nothing.
He stepped forward.

"Lily, that doesn't matter to a lot of the kids here. There are a lot of muggle borns in Hogwarts!" And it wasn't for nothing it was for everything. The girl lifted her eyes up stubbornly, "Not the Slytherins. And not you, Sev." Oh how the words stung...

"But I don't care!", came the boy's most brilliant response. The girl scowled, taking the uncalled-for outburst as an insult rather than a rare act of disguised sympathy.

"No no no!", he said recovering quickly, "I mean that I don't care that your a mud-muggle born.", his cheeks reddened as he looked away again, trying not to meet her gaze.

Lily's appeared intrigued as she watched Severus more closely as if she was seeing more than just a skinny, greasy haired, twitchy, eleven year old standing in front of her. He had hoped that there will always more in him that someone else could see...The words had rolled off his tongue before he has time to think them through.

He was actually glad he hadn't. "Because your really smart and talented and kind. You should have never been treated the way you were by that scummy lot! Your so much better than them..." 'So much better than me' was what Severus really wanted to say.

Lily had given him a genuine smile at those words. On the outside it wasn't much, but on the inside, it was all Severus needed..to be understood. The tears that were welling up in the girl's eyes were no longer miserable and full of hurt but of something that he never received from such a beautiful person.

"Thank you Severus. It means a lot to me for you to say that. It really does."

And the little boy knew it did too that then and there that he had finally done something right! And so Severus slowly took her hand into his own, squeezed it tightly to reassure her that every wrong would be right. He held it there as if he would never let go.

~END OF FLASHBACK.

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

Because as an 11 year old child, Severus Snape had once given another just that much. It would only be a miracle in disguise if somehow, years later, not a boy but a man of 36 can do it all over again.

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

Two minutes.

It had been two minutes since Severus Snape had been staring down his abnormally, large nose at the motionless teenager who was sprawled carelessly on the white cot. Although the boy's legs were hanging out place and his one arm was dangling off the bed to an extent that it was almost touching the floor, Potter still remained tucked neatly underneath the covers looking quite content.

Yes. Content indeed.

Severus snorted at this; such a word was not applying to the man-in-black at this precise moment, not even in the slightest of ways. Why he was mindlessly staring at Potter for the last few minutes was simply just mind boggling in itself!
Quite a perilous situation this was! The bizarre scene was priceless really; to see an innocent looking Potter and not a disastrous looking one. To suppress an amused sneer was difficult for Severus to do. After all, it wasn't everyday that Severus Snape received the opportunity to see this unruly Gryffindor appear so angelic.

Severus held his breath for a moment, as he peered down at Potter again before turning away to find a chair to situate himself in. After all, his body had been longing to be granted the rest that he denied himself this past week. A little bit of peace sounded appealing and would be beneficial for the drained Potions Master to recuperate before the hell with Potter breaks lose. Deciding to take up on the offer, Severus grabbed a chair and swung it out in front of him, silently daring for the Potter to awaken by eying him deliberately. Luckily, and to Severus' satisfaction, Potter didn't react much other than a shift of his position on the cot.

Thank Merlin that Poppy had drugged the teen before she left. Severus was not certain that he was ready to handle the "new" Potter quite yet. 'Ahh'. There was 'another word' for Severus to get used to: Yes. 'New'

The Potions Master shivered from the thought of such a word. To leave his past experiences behind with the boy and to start a fresh was ever so irritating.
'Everything is going to be different now, isn't it Potter?' , sarcastically mused Severus to himself.

For an answer to his marvelous question, the boy stiffled a yawn, mumbled incohertantly, shifted his position and then went still. Potters messy mop of black hair was flopping around more atrociously than the ordianry as he rearranged himself on the cot. No response.

The room went silent and the sonic ears of the Potions Professor could barely pick up the soft, rhythmic breathing being emitted from his "new" ward's chest. He sighed finally, releasing himself from his tension as he ran a hand through the greasy locks. Pulling the chair up to Potter's bedside, Severus sat down, leaned back into it, and tried his best to settle before committing himself to study his charge. Severus' charge. And that's what Potter was officially; a boy of a mere age of fifteen being thrown into the hands of a man who could accidentally( or intentionally at the norm) due more harm to him than good. The boy was indeed older now and should be able to fend for himself, but what was problematic for Potter was his little memory problem. The teen was no longer his foolish, independent self without them unfortunately. However, Severus could not be sure that the character of Potter wasn't still there inside the boy; that difficult, stubborn, independent streak of stupidity that Severus had blissfully grown to hate without pursuing a reason for it.

Severus held his breath again, reassuring what couldn't be assured just yet.
That the boy was just a Potter--no wait...Severus could see it now how incredible it was that this peculiar fifteen year old looked so young, childlike, and innocent to the world and to the horrors that were constantly threatening his life. Severus could happily kick himself in the arse for not realizing this years ago. When Potter was sleeping like this he looked so peacefully and so like--shall he dare say it?--a child!

'He's is just one after all' contemplated Severus seriously as he leaned forward in his seat to marvel at the extraordinary sight before him.

For the first time in his life, Severus was gazing at Potter without the needed malicious behavior, the sneering, or the loathing that he displayed so very often to him in class, out of class, and just too often to begin with. The new light of this discovery emitted a feeling inside of the Potions Master absurd within his own nature. No matter how hard he tried, he could not rid himself of it's force. Severus watched with great detail as the smaller chest rose and fell abidingly as if time was no matter at all. No matter indeed.

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

Inside himself thrived the boy, one that enjoyed the darkness very much. However, this time, the said darkness wasn't so trusting. How could it be reliable when the banging doors would no longer cease? The nothingness didn't comfort him as it had done so before when it had hid him from the terrible voices that wanted to be freed. It no longer promised him the security that this boy was never granted.And so he curled up inside himself, pressing his hands against his ears in a failed attempt to block out the "use to be" and the "was once" that was calling his name and taunting him to remember what shall not be.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The boy shot out of his fetal position and slowly backed away from the banging doors noticing that at the same time strange lights were spilling out from the bottom of the door's entrance.

'Go away' silently begged the boy as he turned to run in the opposite direction to escape. 'Leave me alone! I don't want to know!' said the ignorant child to the treacherous banging and the horrible voices. Running away, the boy was faced yet again with another door, then another one, then another one after that as well.

Trapped. It was a familiar feeling, one he knew too well.

With panic flailing into his chest like a storm, the boy stood and awaited for the eerie lights to creep closer. His feelings of dread could no longer be contained as he saw that in every direction there was more and more lights slithering into the boy's fears like that of a treacherous path of a serpent.They were advancing on him quickly as if fearing the loss of time.

Light was now kissing his robes and stinging him like one containing poison. The boy hissed as a brightness as hot as a fire's flame had engulfed and striped him of his ignorance. After all, he had no right in being blissful to begin with. The light was making sure he knew that, but he didn't have to know....he was able to feel it. Feeling smaller and weaker, the boy was dragged to his knees, vulnerable and very much alone. The light's verity had welcomed him as if he always was part of it's truths.

But the pain, thought the boy, why is there so much of it inside the lights?
The betrayal from the darkness could not have been anymore clear as the nothingness that he needed so desperately was slowly turning into a somethingness.

..........

The Potions Master was grading his last piece of parchment when suddenly a disrupting whimpering sound echoed from out besides him. With his quill still in hand, Severus remained still and silently prayed that the ridiculous noise would soon cease. He then got back to work, continuing to mark up the last essay that he was ever so determined to finish grading. However, it seemed that Potter was even more determined than he, trying to disrupt Severus' own determination by swiftly transforming the whimpering into full blown out moaning.

Again, two mere minutes past by and the insufferable noises increased dramatically. They were irking the man to the point that he almost snapped his quill in half while he feverishly graded his last essays. Only then did his tired, obsidian, black eyes flicker over to the trashing form besides him. Mildly curious with what he was about to deal with, Severus turned to his new ward and scuffed. And now we begin.

Potter, who was formally sprawled out lazily on top of the mattress, was now twisted and tangled within the sheets. His blanket had been ungracefully tossed into a heap on the floor and he had appeared to be shivering perhaps due to. The boy's face was pinched in discomfort, pale cheeks were flushed red with heat, and beads of sweat accumulated on his forehead just bellow the wild bangs. Reading the signs that were wished to be not so apparent, Severus dropped every ounce of paperwork he had left to do, turned his focus to his problematic ward and contemplated about how within only two minutes Potter had proved him wrong again. So very very wrong...

"Potter", he pronounce calmly, while trying as he may to awaken the boy.

Snape leaned forward in his seat to examine the causes of the Potter's sweaty outbreak. His eyes gleamed in apprehension before he placed a cool hand on top of the boy's forehead, feeling for heat as to indicate a fever. Surprisingly he found that there was none. On that note alone, he allowed himself to lean back into his chair, but couldn't prevent his brows from furrowing further in confusion.

It also seemed that his own curiosity could no longer surpass his rather inane actions with what he was going to do next...

Severus Snape: ruthless, snarky, cold, and aloof... was astounded by a mile to find that his elongated fingers had traveled up to the boy's raven colored hair again. What left him stuned was that his touch, shockingly soft, had pushed back the fly away strands of out of the boy's face. However, the mortification that he suffered of what he had just done, had to be put on a hold...

Potter proceeded to moan more and more with his eyes squeezed shut from an afflicting pain. His caretaker sighed deeply, defeated to know that there was only so much that he could do for the child besides wait.

'Could there possibly be something more?' pondered the dark Potions Master as he granted himself the right to lean forward in his chair to examine Potter further.

Children. Severus had never been very good with them in the first place. One reason being this; he didn't have any. Fugitively speaking, he surly wasn't planning on it either. Ever. He often despised the little delinquents, even those in his own house....Although, his ideals could have been altered during a time in the past. Thinking back to those days, Severus may and during one point when Evans was still alive, would have wanted to bore her a child. The idea was depressing alone, If Lily hadn't been with James then what would become of this Potter?

Would the boy be his son? Severus could never believe that this child, so defiant and tempermental, would be of his own flesh and blood. Still nevertheless...would this Potter still bare that commencing scar on his forehead had he been his son?
Would he, Severus end up with the same faith as James Potter; dead as a door nail for protecting his wife and child?
Would Lily be dead as well if it was he and not Potter that she had given her love to?

Such thoughts were all put to a sudden halt as movement was heard coming from besides him. The sight of Potter that Severus would have at one time found humorous had turned into pity. The boy looked like he was under attack! And what was he, Snape, doing to stop it? Nothing!

Becoming more apprehensive by the passing minutes Severus sat idly at Potter's bedside waiting for the worse to happen...and it was.

"Oh, what now Potter!?", thought Severus aloud as he lifted himself out of the chair so that he could properly stand above the younger for a better view. Severus placed a tender hand on the bridge of his nose to anticipate the headache that was no doubt going to claim him.

This task could not have been anymore deranged than it was. Severus tried to remain listless as he watched over Potter, but the boy was giving it his all just to make his new mentor suffer further in helplessness. Not only was the boy shuddering uncontrollably, but he was also mumbling in the same exact manner that Poppy had described him doing during the previous nights.

It was only a matter of seconds before stony black eyes had cracked into such burning concerns. Soon the mumblings that were being emitted from Potter had converged into actual words that had left Severus bluntly disturbed after hearing them.

Severus Snape? Disturbed? Had he gone batty?
Well, he must have because he stood peering down at the child with incredibility.

"Please uncle, I'll be good...I promise....I'll be a good boy. Please!", moaned Potter as he shivered probably from more than just the fact that he was cold, "I'll be good, please don't use it. Please don't use it on me!", croaked the child.

Severus stood his ground, fearing that if he'd move he would crumble. What this?

His face still remained hard as stone, impenetrable, and guarded. His body, on the contrary, was shaking with more than the malevolence that he sought but could not find at all. Potter was not joking.

"What-What are you rambling on about, Potter?!!!!"

'And what is your uncle doing to you?' But of course, the man's damn pride got in the way of allowing such questions to slip his brandishing tongue.

The boy obviously wasn't dreaming but reliving a memory as Severus had expected he would. What was confusing him about  this was the boy, this child, was the Potter that Poppy had retold as him being "his old self" during and after such nightmarish memories.

Shocked to his icy core, Severus always imagined that this boy had taken advantage of what his parents had sacrificed for him by becoming the pampered prince and the spoiled bratty child that James Potter had been.

Once again, the Potions Master could not accept the knowledge that was being lashed at him. He wouldn't believe it! How dare his ideals on the boy change out from under his nose!! Nature was suppose to take course long ago, son's turn into their fathers and daughters into their mothers, yet this child had to be odd one out, the incalculable ingredient in a potion thats difficult to brew.

Severus had to come to terms with this, but only at his own pace.

Unfortunately he had to hurry the bloody hell up if he wished to help this boy.

Not that he was inferring that he was going to jump to conclusions, but he also could no longer believe what he previously had thought about Potter's life either.

"Pot-Potter?"

And he couldn't. This was something he had to see for himself. The question was what was it? What was this boy trying to hide from him before the memory loss?

The intrigued Potions master then, and with greatest reluctance, sat awkwardly down on the bed next to the convulsing form who was still in the mist of continuing to plead for his Uncle to stop a painful source.

"No!! Please stop!!! please stop...I'm a good boy...I'll be good! No please Uncle."

Severus Snape had then placed a steady hand on the boy's chest after positioning him onto his back. He did not want the child to harm himself. Another hand was then closed gently on top of the boy's forehead.

Severus paused contemplating the risk that was openly still there...

Was he really going to attempt to do this when the boy's mind was already in such a weakened state? Performing Legimency on an unconscious person was no easy task and if not properly performed could easily put the cast person into a coma or worse. It was tricky, risky, and unadvised especially with Potter being so unstable.

Could he take the chance? Indeed he was a Potions master and highly trained in Occumency but Legimency. He would just have to gently probe around until he found the memory that was haunting the boy. It would benefit Potter all in the same if he succeeded.

Severus sighed, he must not fail. Deciding on it before Potter started flailing into hysterics, Snape focused then on entering into the boy's mind. He prepared himself to absorb all the thoughts and the feelings that were to come naturally or unnaturally afterwards. What he would find inside that disturbed mind this time he did not know, but what he did know was that whatever it was will certainly full of displeasure.

1...2....3.... were his thoughts. Then...

"Legilimens!"

 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." 

It was something that only Hermione Granger would do when she had loads of doubts. Throughout the past five years the talented young witch would always make her discoveries by researching those pesky topics. The library had never let her down before... until now that is. Day six spent in the library and there was still no answer to a question that has been unanswered in Hogwarts since last Monday. What rare case of Spattergroit did Harry get? How then, with a whole entire week passing by had the newest most astounding mystery of them all given Hermione know-it-all Granger so much woe? The library has been such a great refuge for those cravings for knowledge since the beginning, but now enough was enough even for such a book-loving individual like herself.

"Oh!" exclaimed Hermione with great frustration as she slammed shut the hundred and fifty- second book, "Theres just has to be an answer in at least one of these!"

Flustered, the young witch hungrily grabbed for her next read while Ron Weasley from across the table, eyeballed her uneasily.

Completely drained in energy, body and mind the redheaded boy sighed in defeat. It just so happens that the studious girl had drilled him through his own readings from dawn until dusk, day after day, and night after night. No wonder why he felt so edgy! Ron sat waiting in agony for his friend to tare through another textbook in desperation for the answers they both needed to find. Unable to find a comfortable position to sit, Ron shifted in his seat while Hermione, yet again, tossed another useless book off to the side.

For merlin's sake! he barely began to read his own book! The problem was solved when Hermione agitatedly grabbed it out from in front of him and then proceeded to flip to the next page. There he sat stunned, Hermione was on fire! Sighing though, Ron snatched up another book and flung open the cover. It didn't take long before the endless lines of black wordings had blurred together in his vision and numbed his mind.

An exhausted yawn finally claimed the Gryffindor teen as he allowed himself to stretch.

"Come on, Hermione.", nudged Ron finally, "I'm knackered and we've been at it for days! If anything about Spattgroit was going to turn up, then we would've already found something by now."

Unfortunately Hermione was already midway into one of her 'moods' as she lifted her eyes from her book to shoot Ron a stubborn glance.

"Well if you think you have something better to do, Ronald, then by all means go do it. It will sport your loyalty just swell.", promptly snapped the girl as she quickly took the offense.

Ron gulped down the lump in his throat as he flung his hands protectively out in front of his faced and waved them dismissively side to side.

"No, No, no Don't take it that way, alright? Look I..." He trailed off as he leaned in towards his friend with an apologetic look plastered on his face, "I want to help Harry just as much as you do, but Hermione, It's been a week...", sighed the redhead as he brought his hand to his stomach.

"I'm famished, I haven't slept, and I think....", Ron withdrawn his other hand away from his sore seat and pointed to it accusingly, "That my bum has lost all sense of feeling and will probably never be the same again."

As predicted the Gyffindor girl savored the boy a disgruntled scowl without any difficulty. After all, if Hermione could not put a Weasley in his place than nobody could.

"One more hour," said the girl short and to the point, "We are staying here until breakfast and that's final." Despite the warning given and the death glare admonished so bluntly, Ron finally give into the ensnaring hunger pains of his stomach and as a result, fumbled for food tucked away in his robe pockets.

Ron scuffed at the comment as he leaned back into his chair, "Right, Breakfast. That's also what you said yesterday morning about lunch and dinner!" hissed Ron as he pulled out a treacle tart and snorted amusedly, "The whole past week, just one more bloody hour!"

Hermione glared sternly into her book, "Don't push it, Ron."

"Oh, I'm not pushing anything.", replied Ron innocently as he sneakily placed his treat on the table in front of him.

Hermione rolled her eyes with annoyance, "Smashing, Ronald."

Well obviously Hermione wasn't up to joking around today, like she ever was anyway. Ron then smugly crossed his arms over his chest, pleased with himself as Hermione continued to dive into her book oblivious to Ron's licking of his lips.

Suddenly the girl's current read was interrupted by crunching coming from across the table. At the sound, Hermione snapped her head up and found to her displeasure Ron munching loudly on his tart.

"Have you gone mad!?", questioned the girl through a deadly hiss.

Immediatly Ron stopped chewing though his mouth was full with food as he spoke, "mmWha Mione?"

Royally pissed off Hermione could barely manage a deadly whisper, "No eating, in case you're too slow to realize this: we're in a library!"

"I'm bloody starving over here!" exclaimed Ron after swallowing his bite.

"Well if you wish to get us kicked out because you can't control your stomach for another hour then go ahead and leave. You are impossible!"

Hermione threw her hands in the air, fed up wit her friend and his poor sense of values. After a few by-passing minutes with Ron fumbling with the treacle tart in his hands everything seemed to settle as Ron's thoughts festered.

Ron hated everything in life that had to do with books to begin with, so clearly, all of his effort to stay in this bookish prison was only for Harry. It was a no brainier that his best mate needed him now more than anything. With that hapless reason alone, Ron took all the time needed to reluctantly stuff the sweet back into his robes for later use even as his stomach grumbled in protest.

"Right.", mumbled he looking down at the table, "For Harry."

Hermione didn't comment, instead she got up from her chair, disappeared behind a bookshelf and left Ron to dwell on his actions.

Considering the fact that the teen hadn't had time to rest, it was clear to why he was acting so rash. Truth behold, Ron and Hermione have literally been up since the breaking of dawn, everyday till curfew and sometimes past it. They haven't slept much since the night McGonagal came up to their tower to tell them about Harry and how they were denied visiting him till further notice. Then it was Potions with Snape that blew everything out of proportion. Up until this very hour, both teenagers had ceremoniously hoped that they would be able to find out more about their friend's "rare condition" during their breaks. Though no proof of this has shown it's ugly head to them yet.

However, Hermione's own points to persist onwards were made clear right as she reappeared from behind the bookshelves, slammed down the next pile of books, and startled Ron out of his slump.

"This is the last stack, Ron, deal with it. I believe that even you are capable of controlling your appetite until breakfast.", scolded the girl as she irritably snatched up another book from the gigantic pile, "And honestly, would it kill you to read for once in your lifetime instead of sitting there drooling like a mindless troll?"

Besides scowling at the fresh pile of books, Ron could do nothing more than melt further into the table at the mere thought of more reading.

"Well yea, it would actually", he said trying to fight off another yawn , "And if it doesn't soon, then I ought to slam out my brains with a banshee scull to put an end to this misery."

To make his point clearer Ron folded both arms on top of the table and proceeded to use them as rest for his head. Hermione responded to this display by thrusting an open textbook inches from the redhead's nose.

"Here. Read it" , Hermione commanded impatiently as she picked up a book of her own.

"Fine then.", snapped Ron with much attitude intended as he snatched up the text from her, "And not to bubble your cauldrons, Hermione, but after we are through with this, I'm taking my free periods off for the rest of the day."

"Fine suit yourself." she promptly snapped back.

Hermione blatantly knew that something odd was buzzing around in the air of the school about this entire spattergriot business. Ron may be oblivious to it, but the more Hermonie thought about the probabilities of such a scenario happening to their friend, the more suspicious she grew.

Intuition has never failed her before so why doubt it now when she had a very bad feeling that something was horribly wrong. As Hermione flipped to the next chapter of her book she brought a hand to her head. Just why couldn't her friend live a normal life for once?

Sure, of course the gang was consistently having their lives endangered every year. It has became more like a tradition since the day they entered Hogwarts. Having faced down trolls, three headed dogs, werewolves, and evil wizards, what could possibly go wrong next? Sure, out of the three of them, Harry has been through the brunt of it all... but developing Spattergriot? Clearly Harry had a better chance being captured and killed by Lord Voldemort himself than to come down with a rare illness.

Hermione sighed with worry, she was so skeptical about this rumored illness even though it is what Professor Snape and the rest of the staff members have been saying since yesterday. However, there was no need to start counting her dragons before they hatched. It was also better first that she'd come across a textbook answer before confirming her earlier suspicions. Likewise, Ron wasn't helping the situation. Hermione watched him out of the corner of her eye as the boy lethargically flipped through the pages of his book. He then tossed it to the side as if glad to be rid of the thing and then was soon reaching out for another.

Irritated, Hermione hastily slapped his hand out of the way, and took up the book upon herself. 

"Oh stop it, Ron. Do you want to help Harry or not?"

The boy was indeed sitting up right in his chair now, much alive and very offended by the ridiculous question. With a face flushed as red as his ruby hair, Ron appeared torn by what the young witch was trying to imply.

After all, it was in a Weasley's nature to take offense when it came down to be accused about not caring about his own family, which he greatly considered Harry a large part of. He and Harry had been close ever since their first train ride to Hogwarts, so Hermione had ended up insulting then teen by asking if he really cared.

"He's my best mate, Hermione, of course I want to help!", Ron retorted angrily, "But you've heard what old Snape said yesterday...", he said taking a moment to pause before his face distorted wryly from the bizarre memory.

"Harry? Spattgroit? Like who knew?!"

"And that is precisely my point, Ron.", tentatively started Hermione, "Nobody did. Not even us."

Ron seemed to consider this, "Well it is rather odd after reading every book in this library and while going completely mad from it all...", stressed Ron particularly, " That we still have no-bloody-idea of how our mate fell ill. Doesn't that say anything about being here? Like maybe there are no records of this rare spattergroit thing because it's not that big of a deal?"

Finally Ron leaned forward in his seat, ready to challenge his comrade in order to battle his objections properly. However, Hermione's eyes remained glued to the current page of her own text, her features remained calm and lucid.

"Spattergroit, Ron, is a serious disease and is extremely rare to develop to begin with. Didn't we already talk about this? What professor Snape said just doesn't add up to what the definition says." Hermione held her book out in front of her to make her point, "Like right here for instance... there has been only three different types of the illness documented in history and neither one of them come about so instantly."

Ron frowned quizzical down at the book, "So that says what?" exclaimed Ron loudly, "Nothing! This is bloody ridiculous, Hermione!"

"You're being the ridiculous one, Ronald. This says we will continue researching until we find out if there is a fourth type of spattergroit. And seriously, would you put a sock in it before you get us both kicked out of here for good."

Predictably, coming from a pureblooded wizarding family Ron sat puzzled in his chair by the commonly used muggle term that the girl was so familiar with.

"You want me to put a sock where?"

Hermione took the time needed to let out the long lasting, flustered sigh. "Never mind... just quiet down if you would before Madam Pince overhears us. ", scolded the young witch seriously.

Ron glared daggers at the girl before flinging a hand up to smack himself on the forehead.

Sarcasm was noticeable on his freckled face, "Right. No discussion then", he concluded, "let's forget all about You-Know-Who and his Death Eater chums. We can also ignore the problem that the new 'Headmistress' is destroying Hogwarts if you want, because clearly, we should be more terrified of getting kicked out of this wonderful book palace of yours."

But Instead of brandishing the redhead for his rudeness, Hermione brought her face closer to the book she was reading until her nose was almost touching the parchment.

Ron, finishing from his tangent watched closely as the young witch skimmed the page with her pointer finger. Then all of a sudden, the lingering digit came to abrupt halt midway into the page. There they trembled slightly and stilled as if immobilized by a curse moments afterwards. For a second the brilliant young witch appeared uncertainly caught off guard.

How surprising... since when had Hermione Granger ever been startled with what a book had to say?

"Wait...", she gasp before drawing the book up from the table to bury herself into it further, "Of course!"

Ron attentively waited for an exclamation and goggled at Hermione's overly enthusiastic expression. Clearly confused and fearing that his comrade had finally cracked, Ron's eyes widened with anxiety as he spoke.

"What? What is it? What did you find?", asked Ron as he maneuvered out of his tensed position and hurled himself forward onto the table.

The young witch then looked crossed but then something had noticeably changed on her face. Hermione flashed a crooked smile, one that replaced her quizzical frown in a jiff. Seeming excited, Ron could only dwell on what discovery was just made.

"Ha! I knew it!", declared the girl confidently before slamming the book shut. Unfortunately, the noise was just enough to make Madame Pince look up from her desk, shake her head disapprovingly and give the duo fair warning to quiet down...or else.

Hermione amended a quick "Sorry" before the Liberian had the chance to get testy with her wand. Besides, she wasn't particularly found of them hanging around lately.

"Knew what?", tried Ron again whispering now. Immediately, an over ecstatic Hermione Granger leaned in to him, she was nearly about to shout had not the warning from the Liberian held it's place. From what the boy could tell, Ron could not be sure if the girl was more excited or terrified in what was about to be revealed.

"That Harry does not have Spattergroit!" And there it was. It was not what a book had to say, it was what it did not.

But not being able to fully grasp what was being said to him, Ron remained perplexed and unsure if he should regard the other Gyffindor as going completely mental.

"Huh?" , was all he could brilliantly manage to express.

Hermione fixed her friend an irritable glare as she flung open the book again. Bringing her frustration to a whole new level, the clever young witch turned to the page that gave them the answers...or rather lack of answers...to all their questions. She pointed at the paragraph in the middle of the page.

"Look! chapter four, Rare Cases of Wizarding Illnesses...Spattergroit Cases of the Unknown...."

Ron squinted down at the parchment in front of him while Hermione continued to read aloud:

"When an individual develops 'giallo spattergroita' commonly known as spattergroit and less commonly known as 'Type A yellow spattergroit disease', all implications of the illness begin to show between time frame of two to three weeks. After the second or third week all implications of the disease's are apparent in the victim, including the "yellow" pustuls that cover the body, thus how spattergroita received it's original name. The list bellow goes to show the following known cases as well as the following symptoms within the first weeks of progression of the illness...", Hermione paused suddenly and ran her fingers over the rest of the text while she showed Ron the chart on the page before she continued, "..Yellow being the most common. However, symptoms of rarer cases such as red and purple are not reported until approximately five weeks after the first diagnose of yellow."

For the first time, perhaps ever, Hermione Granger was stunned by what she read in a book...

"Ron. Do you have any idea what this means?"

The girl watched the boy's dour expression churn quickly into a ghostly pale, one worthy of Nearly Headless Nick. His voice grew tight as well, despite how composed he was trying to appear.

"Do I want to know what it means?", he croaked as he lost all color in his face.

For once, Ron didn't have to be Hermione to figure out just what that textbook was saying about Harry's supposedly "rare" case of one of the most nastiest wizarding illnesses known: the fact that it didn't really exist...or at least not until the fifth week, but that was besides the point!

The point was that Harry had supposedly came down with spattergroit over the course of the past week, a time period too short for such an illness to spring up. It had only been just a week, just one miserable week, not five! And as Ron mumbled the symptons stated on the chart for each week, Harry hadn't had any of them. There was just no way, none at all for their friend to come down with any rare case of anything.

"If Harry had spatergroit, then we would have noticed symptoms weeks ago and he can not have a rare case if he doesn't already have a known one.", Hermione stood up abruptly from her chair and brought her hands to her lips nervously, "Oh! This is no good. Harry really is in trouble."

Ron couldn't help but snort, "You do mean more trouble than he is usually in, right? Look on the bright side, Hermione, at least the blokes not sick. "

"Well excuse me for stating my concerns when you fail to open your mind to the bigger picture of what this can directly imply!"

Ron's eyebrows shot up to the top of his forehead, "Well then excuse me for trying to look on the bright side of this."

Offended, Hermione took a seat before glancing around to see if anyone was in ear shot before leaning towards her housemate. "Think about it Ron. Think hard if you would."

Ron's natural Irish skin paled into a sicklier whiter color when denial wasn't enough any more. He couldn't erase the new possibilities that their best friend could be in far worse off condition than they could ever imagine.

After all, Harry Potter was no where to be found. They could only go by what the Professors were saying.

The Professors...

"So if Harry doesn't have spattergroit, but the adults are telling us he does...", pondered the redhead carefully. Being concerned wasn't enough for him now as his eyes widened enormously in horror, "Blimey, Hermione! the teachers are fibbing?! Where's Har-"

"Shhh!" Hermione held up her pointer finger to her lips, hushing him at once, "Nobody can know about this, Ron. Please keep it down."

Ignoring the girl, Ron Weasly's voice flew up into that infamous, hysterical croaking noise, "But Hermione!", clearly he was panicking, "You can't be certain that-"

"Well I'm not, but let's not jump to conclusions yet, okay?", she said while she locked her eyes with Ron's uneasy ones to try to calm him down.

"Do you remember what happened in potions yesterday, Ron?" she asked, turning to her friend skeptically.

Ron appeared slightly amused at the question, "Well of course. The entire Potions class had seen Snape go ballistic on you after you asked him about what happened to Harry." Chuckling from the memory, Ron folded his arms nervously across his chest, anxiety was besting him.

"But that is Snape for you, I suppose.", he threw out there, trying to sound causal...trying to deny whatever Hermione was getting at.

Hermione bit her lip to disagree, her suspicions were too much to keep inside now, "Well I must say he was acting a rather bit dodgy. I've just never seen Professor Snape get worked up into such a state like that before..."

"Hermione," Ron threw up his hands flabbergasted at the lenient comment, "Were you just oblivated? This is Snape who we we are talking about. Snape! He's a Slytherin, what more can you expect? The bloke has always been a scumbag. Hell, the man is a Death Eater as well! I'm still surprise that the overgrown bat didn't suck out your blood back there."

Hermione threw a warning glare at her comrade, "Ron, you're being ridiculous. Must we go over this again?"

The boy seemed amused, "About which thing? That's Snape is a bastard or that he's really working for the enemy?"

"Professor Snape reformed years ago. He's part of the Order and he's on our side, remember? You've heard Dumbledore yourself back at the Burrow in case you have forgotten, so just drop it already!"

"Snapes a bastard out for our blood and you know it!"

Hermione literally huffed as she glared at the redhead, "Oh for merlin's sake, Ron, will you stop calling him that degrading name? He's a Professor!"

"Right", spat Ron indifferently, "And the biggest git of a Professor in all of England."

The two of them sat in silence not talking while they brooded. However both teenagers knew that getting into a row was certainly not the best way to go about figuring out how to help their friend, even if they had no clue where to go now from this point.

Still, discovering the truth was the first step, and thankfully they've gotten on top of that at last.

"Well I suppose Snape wasn't acting like his sodding self.", admitted Ron minutes later after being drained of expressing his loathing for his teacher, "But still... "

"He was reacting defensively, Ron.", countered Hermione smartly, "And whatever happened to Harry, must have set him off."

Ron looked like he was about to sicken up all over the floor, "What are you on about? Snape hates Harry more than he hates all of us Grffindors put together. Speaking of which, he took off almost a two hundred points from our house in only a week! "

Hermione seemed to consider this as Ron continued, "Face it Hermione, but Snape is a mean, old bullying bat who is sorely out for Gyfrindor blood and that is never going to change. If something serious did manage to happen to Harry out of his control, then he would be having a field day and not snapping at the entire class for-"

Then the boy paused, a terrible expression washed quickly over his features as young witch across from him narrowed her eyes.

"You were saying? The Entire class", Hermione pushed instantly.

"Well...", he went on, listlessly as his Adams apple bopped up and down his throat several times. In seconds, Hermione had jumped on his sentence without the slightest hint of mercy.

"Ron, Professor Snape threatened the Slyterins a detention after Malfoy commented about Harry's supposed 'illness'" , she tersely stated, "Don't you think that's a little odd?"

"Well, when you put it that way it is." mentioned Ron with reluctance, "But Malfoy is a nasty little ferret who finally had it coming to him. So did the rest of that lot of serpents. And it's about time too that they get their hind-ends tanned as they deserve, those prats!"

At that last statement, Hermione let out a sigh in exasperation. "I'm sure he disciplines his House as he sees fit, Ron, just how Professor McGonagal does with us.", she explained, "But that is besides the point. Since when does Professor Snape threaten Slyterin in class? something has been really off about him lately.", her eyes then filled up with determination as she stacked up her final pile of books, "And I'm going to find out just what that is."

"Hey, Every villain has his days." prompted Ron clearly out to prove his point, "And what is there left to discover other than that hes evil and out to get us?"

A rash of red throughly splotched the back of Ron's neck as he helped Hermione haul up the books. Hermione on the other hand, was ready to slap the boy upside down.

"Oh stop it already with the ridiculous labels, Professor Snape is not evil.", exclaimed Hermione, "And he is certainly not out to get anyone."

However the statement had clearly bypassed over the other boy's head as he continued to go on as if he didn't hear Hermione at all.

"I bet he cursed him... or at least poisoned him with his bloody potions." Ron shuddered at his next distorted thought, "Or on a more dreadful note, handed him off to You-Know-Who! I'll have to jinx the git's head off if that's the case...sodding Snape."

"Professor Snape...", started Hermione agitatedly, "...Is a teacher sworn to protect students, not curse them.  And for the last time, he is on our side!"

"Alright, Alright I get it, okay? So then 'hypothetically' speaking, let's just say that Snape was 'evil' and out to get us... "

The young witch rolled her eyes again, but watched intently as her friend's knuckles whiten tremendously on the stack of books he was carrying. It was either the books were a little too heavy, or he was a little too concerned.

"You don't suppose that Snape had something to do with...Harry's disappearance do you?", pushed Ron tightly.

Ron wearily waited for an answer and took note as the girl faltered beside him. Indeed Hermione was by far, the more rational thinker of the two, but something peculiar about Ron's question just couldn't be ignored. It caught her by surprise nevertheless, and how in ways had made her uncertain and irked.

"Ron. Clearly he's a Professor, he would never harm a student..." but it so happened that another voice inside of her was arguing otherwise, "...not intentionally at least."

"Ah Ha! So you consider it a possibility then?", asked Ron eagerly as Hermione shot him a cold look, "Hey now, you said it yourself that Snapes been acting rather dodgey this past week. How do you know that the slimly bastard didn't...that he didn't actually hex Harry and hauled him off to one of those Death Eater meetings?!"

Ron's chest was not only aching but also heaving greatly as he hauled the remaining books up onto madam Pince's desk. There he left them and stormed off towards the exit, thinking so erratically that he was basically considering to find the snarky Potions Professor himself and give him a taste of his own medicine. Hermione, though, quick to catch up with his pace, was at the redhead's side in seconds. With no time wasted, the girl placed a reassuring hand on top of her friend's shoulder to keep him from running off. Her voice was noticeably softer as she spoke .

"Remember in first year when he countered Quarrels jinx on Harry's broom? And in third year when he tried to save us all from Lupin after he turned Werewolf in the shrieking shack? Surely those are not the deeds of a Death Eater." encouraged Hermione as the hand she placed on her friend gently rubbed up and down his shoulder. Ron blinked down in surprise at her caressing hands, his face flushed a rosy pink before the girl took notice and took her hand away.

"Well yeah I suppose they are not...", mumbled Ron as he and the girl awkwardly left the library together and proceeded to descend swiftly down the moving staircases.

"But C'mon Mione. This is recent stuff, Harry didn't show after Occumency lessons last week. How odd for the bloke to get sick after an encounter with Snape.", spat Ron as if he had come across something that smelled rotten, "Even though I probably would."

Hermione remained open minded, "But we can not be certain that he is even ill or hurt to begin with, Ron. Perhaps Harry was sent to Dumbledore for more Occumency training and that we, the teachers, Umbridge, the Ministry of Magic, and anyone else for the matter are not suppose to have knowledge of."

Ron shook his head, "Well Hermione I was just saying Snape could of-"

"I know what you are saying." Hermione replied, making sure to look Ron directly in the eyes.

"You're concerned. We both are, but this is not how we should be going about the situation. Now it comes down to that we need more proof, more facts."

"But what more proof do we need? Harry is not sick with spattergroit, the teachers are all lieing to us, and Snape could've already hexed Harry to next Friday for all we know. What is there left to prove when our mate is locked up in the infirmary?"

And just like that, a light bulb lit up inside Hermione's head and her powerful brain which she was notoriously known for began formulating a plan.

"That he's not in the infirmary." she said as her eyes grew as wide as her grin.

Ron turned to her questioningly, "What?"

Then suddenly, that particular grin swizzled into that all-time, infamous Gyrffindor one full of mischievous intention that only those of their House could pull off. Ron was momentarily stunned by this as Hermione Granger walzed right into the Great Hall without hesitation.

"Oh this is going to to be good" He said to himself as his smile soon matched her own, "Hermione Granger, mastermind of Gyrffindor, you have to let me on this one."

At this she turned to him, "Well are you up to a little repeat of rule breaking from our second year or not?"