This is working great, Harry reflected morosely, staring at a sheet of his homework. He'd managed to avoid Snape for almost a week. It reminded him of his 'World War I' at the beginning of the year. He'd resorted to the same tactics – checking into the dorm at unpredictable times, and spending time in Gryffindor and the kitchen and library rather than in Slytherin. It was both easier and harder, this time. Easier, because he wasn't actually frightened, and Snape wasn't actually trying to catch him, so a chance encounter with the man wasn't disastrous. But harder, because this time it was interfering with his friendships, and because of the hurt, worried looks Snape gave him when Harry mistakenly met his eyes. And because of how badly he wanted to apologize for the cold looks he gave back. Yeah, just great.

“Master Harry?” Kallie said, “I has made you some food, Master Harry.”

“No, thank you, Kallie,” Harry said, pushing away the plate of shepherd's pie and glass of pumpkin juice she put on the coffee table in front of him.

“Master must be eating, sir,” Kallie said, pushing the plate back. “Master is not eating lunch, he must be eating dinner.”

“I'm not hungry,” Harry answered, staring sullenly at the food in front of him.

“Too bad,” Kallie replied finally, putting her little hands on her hips and staring at him in exasperation, “Master Harry is eating his food, or Kallie is telling Madame Pomfrey that Master Harry is sick.”

“I'm not sick!” Harry protested, horrified. The last thing he needed was to go to the hospital wing now.

“Then eat,” Kallie said stubbornly.

“Kallie-” Harry protested.

“Eat.”

Harry gave Kallie a glare before picking up his fork and starting to eat.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Giving up on his homework after eating as much as he could of the home-made shepherd's pie Kallie had pushed into him, Harry left the dorm to wander the halls. He'd found it to be a good alternative to just hanging out, over the last couple of days. People were less likely to find him, wandering around in deserted areas of the castle, then in any of his usual hang-outs, and it felt less lonely to be exploring than to be hanging out doing his homework on his own. It wasn't his friends' fault, really. They were just worried about him, but it showed, and for some reason he couldn't bear it right now. He'd started over the weekend, taking the castle floor by floor, entirely alone, and he'd finally gotten to the seventh story.

Most of the rooms on this floor were pretty boring – old abandoned classrooms and offices and broom closets – but finally he stumbled upon something interesting. At first, he thought it was just another abandoned classroom, with its old school-desks piled up along the walls, but then he noticed an absolutely enormous mirror leaning against the far wall.

What's that doing here? he thought. Anybody could steal it. Well, maybe it was too big and heavy for that, but it really looked very valuable. The frame was beautiful, and gold, with a strange inscription carved in the top of it. He sounded it out, but it didn't mean anything to him at all - Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. Stepping closer, he looked at the glass, then turned around frantically and crouched, arms moving to protect his face.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn't see you-”

But when he looked up, nobody was there. Heart pounding, Harry turned back to the mirror. And there they were, again – Vernon and Petunia, smiling down at him like he was their pride and joy. But they weren't the only ones. Standing directly behind his reflection in the mirror were a woman he recognized instantly as his mother, and a man who looked just like him. James, he realized. That's got to be James. Here he'd gone so long, avoiding looking at the photos Snape had given him, and there was his – there he was. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at them. James, looking as pleased and proud as the two Dursleys. His mother, smiling at him just like she had in the pictures of him as an infant – as if he was her whole world. And, last but not least, Snape, giving him a look that he'd seen before – warming and warning all at the same time, as if he was amused by something Harry was doing, but was trying not to show it.

“Y-you're my teacher,” Harry said softly to him, before looking at his parents. “You're dead,” he said, voice stronger. “And you-” he said to the two Dursleys, smiling at him so benevolently “- you hate me. I know you hate me.”

But there they were, all of them, smiling at him, as if he was a part of them, a part of their lives – and a part that they liked. He gazed at them in wonderment, for a moment, caught up in the emotions of seeing everything he had ever wanted laid out before him. James and Snape even had his shoulders, protectively and almost possessively, like he was something terribly important to them, something that neither of them would ever let go. Which is a load of crap. Total, pathetic, never-going-to-happen, crap.

Bloody hell. Of all times to show him this. How cruel could a place possibly be?

“Don't you get it?” He shouted at the thing. “I am an orphan. I am homeless. Nobody bloody wants me! And I'm dealing with it. I'm doing everything I can to get rid of these stupid, useless, miserable, dreams and I don't need some fucking mirror to bring them all up again!”

He stood and breathed for a moment, just staring at the mirror, and once again found himself looking up at James, and at Snape, and at his mother, and at the Dursleys, seeking and finding in their eyes everything he wanted most.

“No! None of that is bloody true! Fuck off, all of you!” Without thinking, Harry struck a fist out towards the mirror, feeling a familiar blinding rush in his chest at the same time. He had time for one panicked thought – Ohhh, shit! – and to drop to the floor before the mirror burst outward with a crash and he was covered in a hail of tiny glass shards. Waiting for the ting of glass falling on stone to end, Harry finally opened his eyes to look, before breathing a sigh of relief. Apparently his instinct to duck also sent his magic to protect his body, because though the floor around him was covered in glass, he was unharmed.

I broke it, he thought, panting on the floor, I just broke the fancy uber-expensive magical mirror. And it was only sheer luck that it hadn't killed him.
Bloody hell. Getting up slowly, Harry stood and stared in disbelief at the bent and twisted frame that had once been a beautiful, cruel, mirror. A slight sound from behind made him turn quickly.

“Impressive,” headmaster Dumbledore said from his spot in a corner of the room.

Harry felt his eyes grow round as he stepped backward away from the man. “I d-didn't mean to,” he said. “Really, I didn't.” To his intense shame, he felt his breath hitch in his throat, and fought back tears that wanted desperately to flow.

“Really?” the headmaster asked lightly, “what was your purpose in hitting it, then?”

The headmaster's tone was gentle, but Harry lifted his chin and spoke aggressively even as he heard his own voice shake. “Fine, I did it on purpose. Bloody stupid thing to have in a school, anyway.”

To his surprise, the headmaster showed no signs of anger, and simply stood where he was in the corner of the room and asked, “and why would you say that?”

“Because it's evil,” he said shortly.

The headmaster looked gently puzzled, but Harry could tell he was putting the expression on on purpose, and didn't relax. “I have never thought of it that way,” the headmaster said, tone still light, as if they were merely discussing philosophy for the fun of it, and Harry hadn't just destroyed something that had to cost hundreds or even thousands of Gallions. “Have you figured out what it does, then?” he continued.

“'Course I have,” Harry said aggressively, lifting his chin. “I'm not a complete imbecile.”

“What do you think it does, then?” the headmaster asked when Harry didn't continue. “Or, I suppose I should say, did?”

Harry wasn't amused. “It tortures you with what you can never have,” he said shortly.

To his surprise, the headmaster looked genuinely sad. “That is certainly one interpretation,” he said, tone not as light as before. “A depressingly accurate one, actually. I generally prefer to say that it shows us our desires – those things that we want, and even need, the most. And, yes, frequently these things are the most difficult to acquire.” He seemed to get distracted for a moment before looking back at Harry.

Harry swallowed. “What are you going to do, sir?” he asked, more polite than before. Snape had said that Dumbledore was an okay guy-

The headmaster looked startled. “Do, Mister Potter?”

Harry almost rolled his eyes. Duh. “I willfully destroyed school property. What are you going to do?”

“Ah,” the headmaster said, as if he'd really not realized what Harry was referring to. “I had thought to walk away, and pretend I didn't see anything. And then go down to the kitchen to ask the house-elves if they couldn't spare another slice of that lovely treacle tart from dinner. I will see you later, Mr. Potter.”

Harry watched the man leave, confused, but relieved. Strange man, but I'll take it. On impulse, he turned one more time to look at the destruction he'd unwittingly wrought. It was impressive. He was never going to get the image it'd shown him out of his head, though. Great. Hate me, dead, and doesn't want me. Great record, Harry. Way to achieve your dreams. He turned and left, determined to get his homework done, and to stop bloody thinking.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The next morning was Friday. Harry ate his breakfast quickly, ignoring his worried friends, and Snape's near-constant stare, and the image the evil mirror had put in his head, and went to Potions. He wanted to get there a little early, as he had all week – it meant that he arrived before most of his friends or Snape and could have everything set up and ready to go before class started, and give Snape absolutely no excuse to give him detention. Unfortunately, though most of Harry's friends tended to rush into the room at the very last minute, Malfoy was always annoyingly punctual. He and Pansy Parkinson and Crabbe and Goyle were already in their seats. Their 'war' had been on the back-burner for awhile, as Harry had, for once, been looking to avoid trouble, but apparently Malfoy didn't feel the same. Harry ignored his malevolent glare and started setting up his materials next to Blaise.

“I do feel sorry,” Malfoy said too loudly to his friends, “for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home.”

Harry looked up to see Crabbe and Goyle chuckling, and Malfoy staring at him with a slight smirk, and felt his whole being go cold as ice.

Very deliberately, he got up and approached the other Slytherins, watching Malfoy stand up to meet him. Apparently unsettled by the look on Harry's face, Malfoy went for his wand, but Harry simply extended his magic and pulled the wand out of the other boy's hand, rendering him helpless. Pansy saw it, and raised hers, shortly followed by Crabbe and Goyle, but theirs flew out of their hands as easily as Draco's had, and within seconds Harry had Draco plastered by his neck to the wall. He hadn't even touched him.

He vaguely heard the others yelling, but ignored them to focus on Draco.

“You want to leave me alone about my family, Draco,” he said coolly, hands at his sides as he spoke. “Do you get why, yet, or shall I explain?”

“Let me go, asshole,” Malfoy said clearly, voice just a little high. Harry felt a cold smile twist his face.

“I think I'll explain. You are currently without a wand. I still have mine, but I really do better without it. If I wanted to, I could splat you right now, and none of your pathetic cronies could do a thing about it. Do you get me?”

This time, Malfoy didn't speak, and Harry felt someone grab his shoulder. “Yeah?” he said over his shoulder, still holding Malfoy.

“Let him go, Harry. You do a great Death Eater impression, he's shitting his pants, now it's time to let him go.”

It was Blaise, of course. Harry took a breath and called his magic back, letting the other boy go, and turned his back on him to face Blaise. “Whoops,” he said lightly.

Blaise smiled grimly. “Always knew you were a scary fucker. No wonder you and Snape get along so well.”

Harry frowned, and Blaise spoke more seriously. “What's up? That was a little violent, even for you.”

“I'm fine.” Harry said.

Blaise shook his head. “Liar.”

“Take your seats,” Snape said as he swept into the room. Harry followed Blaise and sat down, watching as Malfoy did the same, looking shook-up and rubbing his neck.

Snape never missed a thing. “Something wrong, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Only that your precious pet tried to kill me,” he spat in return. “Not that you probably care.”

Snape looked briefly at Harry, before looking around the room. “Would anybody else who witnessed the incident like to explain?” he said, eyes resting on Harry. To Harry's surprise, it was Blaise that spoke up.

“Malfoy made a comment about Harry's family, sir. Harry simply convinced him not to without resorting to unnecessary violence.”

“He threatened me!” Malfoy complained. “And he choked me!”

“Zabini?” Snape asked again.

“Harry got mad, sir, but he wasn't doing anything but walking towards Malfoy when Malfoy pulled his wand. Harry took it from him, and then took the others' wands when they joined in. Harry held onto Malfoy and talked to him, then let him go. Malfoy was able to speak just fine. Nobody's hurt. Malfoy's just mad 'cause his pride is touched.”

“Thank you, Mr. Zabini, five points to Slytherin.”

“But sir-” Malfoy protested.

“Was anything Mr. Zabini said incorrect, Mr. Malfoy?” Snape asked.

“No, sir.”

“Shall I ask you what you said to Harry?”

To Harry's surprise, Malfoy blushed. “No, sir.”

“In that case, I believe nothing happened at all. Is that so, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Snape said, a note of finality in his voice, before turning to the rest of the class, “now if you would all turn your books to page 385...”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and turned his attention to his potion.

After class, Harry was packing up his stuff when Snape approached him.

“Yes, sir?” he said without looking up.

“Stay after, please. I wish to talk to you.”

Damn. “Yes, sir.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

When the other students had left, Harry came to stand in front of Snape's desk, hands at his sides.

“You wished to speak to me, sir?” he asked neutrally.

Snape met his eyes. “I did. I wish to know more of what went on with Mr. Malfoy. He said you threatened him?”

“It all happened exactly as Blaise said,” he answered, tone as blank as his face.

Snape frowned. “Zabini was being intentionally vague. I wish to hear your version.”

Of course you do. The man was right, though, Blaise had been pretty vague. He already implied that I wasn't going to be in trouble for this. He wouldn't break his word. Carefully maintaining the blank face and tone, Harry explained.

“Malfoy made a comment, I objected. I walked up to him, and he and his friends pulled wands. I used my magic to disarm them, then hold Malfoy to the wall by his neck, and told him that I could splat him if I really wanted to, and let him go. Like Blaise said, nobody got hurt.”

Snape's eyebrows rose. “You disarmed four people?”

“Yes.”

“Could you really have 'splatted' him, as you said?”

“Cold? Maybe. If I were mad enough, sure.”

Snape frowned thoughtfully. “You remember our conversation about using your magic against Malfoy?”

So I'm not allowed to defend myself now? “He pulled his wand first, sir,” Harry said neutrally.

“He did, and you did not harm him this time. But we have gotten to the point that I discussed with you earlier. You could do him serious damage, if you wanted to. Keep in mind that you don't.”

True enough. “Yes, sir,” Harry said. “May I go?”

“Any chance that you'd talk to me?”

“No, sir.”

Harry fought to keep Snape's gaze as the man studied him, and finally the man sighed and broke the eye contact.

“You may go.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Severus opened the door to the headmaster's office and strode in, not giving Albus the time to say his habitual, “Come in, Severus.” The headmaster's expression was, as usual, one of mild amusement, but his eyes looked sad.

“What is troubling you, my boy?” he asked as Severus sat down in front of the desk. Apparently the headmaster had been viewing old memories, again, as his pensieve was on the desk between them.

“You summoned me,” Severus reminded him sharply, turning his gaze from the pensieve to the headmaster's face.

“Yes, but forgive an old man's sentimentality,” he said, smiling at Severus' scowl. “Your state of mind at the moment is more urgent to me than the matter that made me ask you to come.”

“I'm fine. What did you want to discuss?”

Albus shook his head. “It should not surprise me that you and young Harry seem so similar, sometimes, but it still occasionally does.”

Severus gritted his teeth. I have no patience for this, right now. “What. do you have. to say to me. Sir?”

“I take it Harry is acting up again?”

He's not going to let this go. He never does. You'd think I'd get used to it. Severus sighed, and tried to release his bad temper. “You could say that.”

“Do you know why?”

“Same as usual, I imagine,” Severus said neutrally. “I angered or hurt him, somehow. Usually he tells me what I did -” and usually he goes and does something to piss me off in return, he doesn't just cut me out entirely - “but this time he is being stubborn. And yes, very well, it is getting to me. Can we get to the matter at hand?”

“As it happens, this is the matter at hand, Severus. I have a memory I wish you to view,” the headmaster said, indicating the pensieve with a hand.

“You have a memory regarding Harry?” When has he ever even seen Harry without my knowledge?

“Yes, I do. I witnessed something yesterday evening that I believe you should see. No doubt Harry would prefer I not share it with you, given his behavior of late, but I believe it will clear a lot up for you.”

Severus frowned. “And it is important?”

“Crucial, I believe. I understand how you feel about the boy's privacy, Severus, but I truly believe this to be necessary.”

And it's not like I've got a lot of options, Severus thought guiltily.

“Very well.”

Hesitating only slightly – anybody with any experience with pensieves would know better than to approach them lightly - Severus leaned forward, and touched his face to the surface of the liquid.

The headmaster entered a room silently and stood by the door, watching as Harry stared silently at the mirror of Erised. Oh, no, Severus realized. That bloody mirror. Severus walked over to Harry, reaching his side just as the boy spoke.

“Y-you're my teacher,” Harry said softly, looking to the right of the mirror. His gaze moved left as he spoke, as if to different people. “You're dead. And you - you hate me. I know you hate me.”

You're dead – that's surely his parents, Severus realized. And you hate me – the Dursleys? Two sets of guardians that should have been there for him, and weren't. Which leaves the teacher – which has to be me. But how had Severus failed him? What's wrong with being his teacher?

The boy stared at the mirror for a second, expression softer than Severus had seen it in a long time, then suddenly started shouting. “Don't you get it? I am an orphan. I am homeless. Nobody bloody wants me! And I'm dealing with it. I'm doing everything I can to get rid of these stupid, useless, miserable, dreams and I don't need some fucking mirror to bring them all up again!”

Severus felt his mouth drop open. Of course. I'm his teacher. I don't want him, not in any permanent way. Not as far as the boy knew. I'm doing everything I can to get rid of these stupid, useless, miserable dreams. Referring to somebody wanting him. To a home. To – parents.

Oh, Merlin. No wonder he won't go anywhere near me. He was right. He had hurt him. It just wasn't anything he had done, but more what he hadn't done, what the boy thought he would never do. And he was right, of course. Severus was just his teacher, his mentor, he wasn't his – oh, Merlin. He wants me to be his father. He couldn't be a father! He was a bloody Death Eater!

Severus watched as Harry once again paused to stare, expression wistful, before shaking his head hard. “No! None of that is bloody true! Fuck off, all of you!”

Harry drew back and struck hard at the mirror, hitting it hard before whitening and curling up to protect his body. In a millisecond, the mirror burst outward with a crash. Severus caught his breath, watching but too slow to prevent anything, as a lethal hail of glass shards fell on his young ward, only to stop inches from his back and slide off onto the floor. Harry stayed still, panting in his crouch, for a moment, before getting up slowly and staring at the mirror, then turning around suddenly to look at the back of the room.

Looking where the boy did, Severus saw that Dumbledore had walked a little further into the room.

“Impressive,” the memory-Dumbledore said.

Harry took a step back, obviously frightened. “I d-didn't mean to,” he said. “Really, I didn't.” He was hiding it well, but Severus could tell that the boy was close to tears. As can Albus, probably, Severus realized.

“Really?” Albus asked lightly, “what was your purpose in hitting it, then?”

The headmaster was being careful, but Harry clearly saw through it, and lifted his chin in a very familiar manner. “Fine, I did it on purpose. Bloody stupid thing to have in a school, anyway.”

And I've said the same thing, Albus, for exactly this reason. Bloody hell, the boy wanted-

Albus feigned incomprehension. “and why would you say that?”

“Because it's evil,” Harry said shortly.

The headmaster looked gently puzzled, but once again Severus could tell that Harry saw through it.

“I have never thought of it that way,” the headmaster said, tone still light. This time, Severus had to approve – Harry had just destroyed a priceless bit of school property, on purpose or not, and had to be nervous about it. “Have you figured out what it does, then?” Albus continued.

“'Course I have,” Harry said, lifting his chin. “I'm not a complete imbecile.”

“What do you think it does, then?” the headmaster asked when Harry didn't continue. “Or, I suppose I should say, did.”

The headmaster sounded jovial, but Harry's answer was anything but. “It tortures you with what you can never have,” Harry said shortly.

He really believes that, Severus realized. Of course he does.

The memory dissolved, and Severus was back in Albus' office.

“So what are you going to do?” the headmaster asked.

“I have no idea,” Severus admitted, standing up to leave. The only thing he could think of was – frankly crazy. I showed up with his parents and guardians in the mirror, though, he realized again. That's got to mean something. But he was a Death Eater. Back to this. I am wholly inadequate to deal with a troubled child. But Harry had no-one else. And he had no other ideas. “I have a lot to think about.”

“He really sounds just like you, Severus,” Albus said. Yes, thank you, Albus. I believe I know your opinion on the matter. He left without answering.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Severus paced his office, thinking hard. Harry was arriving for his wandless lesson in less than half an hour, and he was no closer to a solution than he'd been the day before, leaving Albus' office. Harry needed a home. He needed to belong to somebody. He couldn't just keep – floating. There were things that a parent could provide that a teacher simply couldn't. And Harry was absolutely right – Severus was his teacher - Just his teacher. Hell, in that role, he'd only even be around for another six years. As his teacher, Severus' authority over him ended when he left Hogwarts.

He was managing to develop a relationship with the boy – or had been, at least – but Harry was by no means healed. How would Severus ever find someone willing and able to deal with the boy the same way he did? It had taken Severus quite some time to understand him. Who could he trust to take him now?

A memory pressed itself to the front of his mind. Back at the beginning of the year, he'd lost his patience with Harry, and frightened him badly, and gone to Albus to ask him to choose a different mentor for Harry. “Abused children do not need bitter, angry, sharp-tempered Death Eaters,” he'd said, “They need gentle, kind, soft-spoken, slow tempered, 'well-adjusted' adults well out of the line of fire. I am a good spy because I am none of these things. Find someone else.” Albus had agreed, with the condition that he remained Harry's mentor until they found someone better. He'd asked him for a suggestion of whom to appoint, and Albus had answered, “Someone Lily would trust, at the very least.”

“Clearly. Who did Lily trust, then?” Severus had answered. The headmaster's answer had been deliberately unhelpful.

“You.”

“Who else?” he'd asked.

“James Potter, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.”

“Who else who is not dead, imprisoned, or a werewolf?”

“No-one.”

He'd groaned in frustration, and Albus had smiled. “Good thing you're available, don't you think?”

Yeah, good thing I'm available, Severus thought, dropping into his office chair and holding his face in his hands. The bitter, angry, sharp-tempered Death Eater. What the hell was he going to do? What gentle, kind, soft-spoken, slow-tempered, 'well-adjusted' adult would ever be able to keep up with the boy? He'd walk all over them, or try and be nice, but never show them anything of who he actually was.

Alright then, so who's strong enough to put up with the boy, but that I can trust? Suddenly a thought came to him – what about Minerva? She was no push-over, and she seemed to 'get' Harry. Harry even seemed to like her. She has no time. She's deputy headmistress, and a head-of-house, and transfiguration teacher to all seven years. Like he was any different? He was a head-of-house, and potions teacher to all seven years, and a spy. Former spy. His obligations to Dumbledore were significantly less time-consuming than Minerva's, at least for now. And I'm younger.

But he couldn't do it. He'd already established that. But somebody had to. “Nobody wants me,” Harry had said, “I'm learning to deal with that.” How could anybody deal with that? He wanted to just tell the boy, yes, somebody does. I do. But could he say that, really, if he wasn't honestly willing to take the boy in for real? To be what Harry needed? Harry was right. He didn't need somebody to help him build impossible dreams. He needed somebody to be real.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Harry,” Severus greeted when the boy came in.

“Professor,” Harry answered coldly. Severus found he didn't mind as much, now that he knew what the boy was doing.

“Sit down, please. I need to speak with you,” Severus said.

Harry sat in his usual spot across from Severus over the desk. “Talk then.”

But will he listen? Severus wondered. “The headmaster showed me his memory of your encounter with the mirror of Erised,” he started.

Severus didn't expect Harry to be happy about that, and it was obvious he wasn't as he looked up and swallowed hard. “How much did he see?”

“Enough that I know what you are doing now,” Severus answered, meeting Harry's eyes. “You think that, being 'just' your teacher, I will abandon you sooner or later, and so you are cutting yourself off now. You think I cannot or will not give you everything you need, and so your best solution is to prevent me from giving you anything at all.”

“And you are going to tell me that that is not true?”

“Certainly the former is untrue. I have told you before, and I'll repeat now, that I am not going anywhere. One way or another, I will be in your life until you truly no longer need me.”

“Or until somebody kills you off?” Harry asked pointedly.

“Very well, I will do everything I can to remain in your life until you no longer need me. Is that better?”

“More accurate perhaps, but still highly unlikely.” Harry answered.

Severus sat back, understanding. “You'll have to wait and see, I suppose. In the meantime, there is a painfully trite saying that goes, 'better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,' that seems to apply.”

Harry didn't answer, and Severus decided to just continue. “As to the latter idea, it is possible and even likely that I cannot provide everything you would like me to. But is it truly worth it to prevent me from offering you anything at all?”

Harry looked at him, fighting to keep the coldness that had protected him for the last week. Snape knew way too much. Damn Dumbledore. Yet another person who seemed to have no concept of privacy. All that was left to him was to try to get Snape to understand his own perspective, on the off chance that the man would willingly back off. Yeah, right, like he has before when you wanted him to. “If you have seen the Headmaster's memory,” he said coldly, “then you know that this relationship is going in a direction that neither of us want.”

“On the contrary,” Snape answered. “I see nothing wrong with the direction this relationship has taken.”

Harry gritted his teeth and just spoke the truth. “Well I do,” he answered, voice cold as ice. “It is a dream, and not reality. Eventually it has to end, and the longer it goes in the meantime, the worse for me it will be. And so, please, if you care about me at all you will allow me to cut it off now rather than allow things to get worse.”

“I'm sorry,” Snape answered. “But I cannot do that. As I told you before, I am here until you no longer need me.”

“I don't need you,” Harry said furiously. “I have never needed you. I don't need anyone. What I need is for you to back the fuck off before you hurt me worse.”

Severus winced. “Harry-”

“You're my teacher, okay?” Harry said. “All I'm asking for you to do is to act like it.”

“You know as well as I do that that's not what this is, anymore,” Severus argued.

“That is exactly the problem. Back. off.”

“I won't,” Severus answered bluntly, “I won't ever, Harry.” He hesitated. Come on, Severus. The boy bloody needs to hear it. I – care about you. You know I do. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't just leave.”

Severus watched as Harry's face closed off. “May I be excused, sir?” he asked abruptly, standing up.

“No,” Severus answered. “Sit down. We need to talk, and then you have a lesson.”

Harry stared at him for a second, and Severus could feel his desperation.

“What else do you want to say to me, sir?” Harry asked, voice just slightly shaky.

“I do not wish to hurt you, Harry-”

“Well you're going to,” Harry answered, voice quickening as his anger returned, “All you can do is to try and minimize that. If you would. Please.”

“I'm not going to just let you leave-”

“Because you care about me so bloody much. Well thanks a lot. Good thing you can't actually prevent me,” Harry answered, voice as full of sheer defiance as it had ever been, but almost breaking.

“Harry-” Severus said softly.

“No! No, you can't bloody fix this, damnit! The best you can do is back the fuck off and minimize the damage and you won't even do that! You're such an asshole!”

Tears showing in his eyes, Harry stood up out of his chair and left quickly, not quite slamming the door behind him.

And another successful conversation with the boy-who-hates-Severus-Snape, Severus thought, burying his face in his hands. What the hell am I going to do?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>