“Mate are you nuts!” Ron screamed for the umpteenth time, “He is going to kill you! And wining? Oh god you are dead, so so, so, dead and my mum is going to kill us all because she told us to keep you safe!” Ron was pacing the length of the abandoned third floor corridor, now Fluffy free.

            “Ron,” Harry said wearily, “Please shut-up.”

            “I don’t know why you did it?” Hermione took up the lecture, “I just don’t understand Harry. Do you want people to keep hating you?”

            “No,” Harry replied with a sneer that was reminiscent of Snape’s. Harry was an excellent mimic.

            “Why do you do these things?” Hermione asked in frustration. Even Fred and George were looking at Harry like he had finally gone off of his rocker. Harry was about to answer when he finally just gave up and said, “Look, I can’t explain why I did what I did. You wouldn’t understand. So leave me alone about it okay. Snape won’t kill me. He would hate for all of his efforts in saving me to go to waste.”

            “He’s got a point,” Fred said and George picked up, “Snape’s not stupid.”

            “Though I don’t know why you can’t tell us what is wrong?” Hermione cut the twins off and put her hands on her hips. She looked tired and upset, like this was personal. Ron was standing next to her and was nodding his head in agreement.

            “Look….I just get tired of all the weird looks and rumors going on in the Tower,” Harry replied, knowing that he was lying and not caring. They couldn’t know….they wouldn’t understand…..they would look down on him, “If I am with Snape at least I will be too tired to have nightmares.”

            Hermione’s face softened and she caught Harry in a strangle hold. Ron looked highly uncomfortable and said, “I’m with you in spirit mate. Just try and duck and cover if Snape tries anything.”

            Harry nodded but he couldn’t help thinking about what Lockhart tried to do, and he shivered. Luckily the twins thought he was afraid of Snape and said, “Don’t worry mate.”

            George laughed and finished, “Snape’s bark is worse than his bite.”

            “Except that one time we turned his clothes pink,” Fred said reflectively. They both paled and said in unison, “Never do that.

            Harry just nodded and the group made their way to the next class. Fred and George leaving them once they came to Transfiguration.

            “See yea later,” Fred hollered and George ended, “Keep tabs on those that harass you Harry. We have a few new tricks up our sleeves!”

            Harry smiled a little and he felt somewhat safe. The twins would make sure none of the students would hurt him too bad. He didn’t have to worry about that now; it was just the adults he had to worry about now.

            Snape was pacing his office. All day he had been disturbed with the prospect of Potter truly being manipulative, like another Dumbledore….or Voldemort. For some reason Snape was starting to compare the Dark Lord and Harry and found it chilling. They were some things that were the same and that made Snape shiver. Though to be fair Dumbledore kind of reminded him of Voldemort too so he was just jumping the wand a little. Then there was the infirmary scene that kept replaying in front of his mind. Potter had been so….respectful and….god help him….sweet. Where did that boy go?

            Shaking himself from his dour thoughts he heard a soft knock on his door and hollered, “ENTER!”

Potter poked his black mane into the classroom and then the rest of his little body and Snape glared daggers at the boy. Anger built inside of him. He had HELPED the boy, and here the boy repaid him with disrespect. That would not do. He would instill in the boy some respect even if it killed him. He was so angry that all he could do was point at the waiting caldrons. Harry nodded and hung his head. He sat his book bag down and rolled up his sleeves. Without another word Harry went to work, and Snape began to wonder why he even entertained the thought that Harry could be a sweet little boy.  

            Harry could feel the anger coming off Snape in waves and he felt a small pang in his chest area. He told himself that it was nothing. That it was just a nerve hurting, but Harry truly knew better. The man had been nice to him in the infirmary. Had actually gotten his things from God only knew where and he repaid him by being a brat.  God, he felt so bad. Uncle Vernon was right. He was a selfish piece of shit. Feeling tears coming Harry began scrubbing harder until all thoughts of Uncle Vernon, Lockhart, Snape, and the students were gone. All there was left was the scrubbing and water and the cold. That was all life was. That was all he needed, all he wanted. The tears were forgotten, and Harry managed an air of indifference that infuriated Snape.

            Snape stood as he saw Potter uncaringly scrub, and he felt like hitting the boy. But no….he would never do that. He would not be his father, he would not. He was not an abuser, not now or ever.

            “GET OUT!” Snape screamed, and Harry jumped spilling water everywhere. He looked at Snape with round frightened eyes that reminded him so much of Lily. That just infuriated Severus even more.

            “GET OUT!” Snape repeated pointing to the door. Harry scrambled to his feet and dived for his backpack, “You ungrateful little brat. Just go!”

            Harry barreled out of the classroom, tears down his face. Why did Snape do that?

Snape for his part calmed instantly, when he saw the tears on the boys face. Did he do that? Did he really scare the boy? A boy that was so used to angry evil voices screaming at him and calling him names. And god why did he even care! Angry again Snape threw himself into his chair and began sorting through papers. The boy would be fine….he hoped.

            Harry made it to Gryffindor tower at top speed, and was about to go inside when he heard a sickly sweet voice say, “Where have you been?’

            Harry spun around and forced himself not to blanch, Lockhart was right behind him.

            “Sir?” Harry asked puzzled, was he supposed to meet Lockhart?

            “You were not in class today,” Lockhart explained, looking at Harry he asked, “Was it the students again?”

            Harry nodded but Lockhart looked at him sadly and said, “I’m sorry for that, love.”

            He made himself by pure force of will not to run when he heard that particular endearment. He was Lockhart’s love? Gross. Lockhart took a step towards him and slid his finger down Harry’s cheek. Leering a little Lockhart whispered, “Why don’t you come to my office? I’m sure talking will make you feel better.” The insinuations were easy for Harry, through he was only tweleve, to hear and his stomach dropped. Oh no, oh hell no.

            “I..I…I..c….can…n’t,” Harry stammered looking for a reason, any reason. He was about to run for it when he heard Ron say, “There you are mate! Snape let you out early?’   

            Lockhart swiftly took a step back and plastered a sunny fake smile on his face, “Why hello Mr. Weasley I was just seeing that young Harry here was alright.”

            Ron nodded and smiled a little, “Thanks Professor sir.”

            Lockhart nodded, let his eyes linger on Harry for a little too long, and then left swiftly. Ron didn’t notice the odd look nor did he notice Harry’s traumatized face. Harry kept rubbing his cheek like he wanted something dirty to come off. Finally he said, “I’ve got to go take a shower.” And before Ron could respond he was out the door and down the hall and in the bathroom. Nobody could have caught up with him.

            He spent the better part of an hour scrubbing his arms, legs, cheek, and everywhere else his eyes liked to stare at. He scrubbed until he was bright pink and his arms were starched and his cheek a bit bruised. One word repeating in his head; Love, love love love love love,suddenly Harry felt sick and he ran to the toilet retching. Feeling horrible and dirty and nasty Harry laid his scarred forehead on the cold white porcelain and cried.

            After an hour Harry calmly threw his clothes back on and made his way cautiously to Gryffindor Tower. He had a potions assignment due and he wanted it to be perfect as penitence for his disrespect.

            Snape was puzzled; genuinely and certainly puzzled beyond all measure. Snape did not like to be puzzled. But he was, and he did not like it, at all. Potter was what made him puzzled. Monday Potter had behaved horribly in his classroom. And that night Snape had behaved like a jerk, yet the boy was basically an angel. He did his homework, read the assignments, behaved in class, ignored his friends, and basically handed in perfect potions. Something that Snape thought he would never see. He was respectful to him and all of his Slytherians. When Mr. Malfoy tried to start an argument Potter would just shrug it off. Hell, there were a few times Snape had wanted Potter to hit the boy, but he never did….not once. He wondered about that. He liked this new, mature, studious Potter. Snape would be ecstatic if it weren’t for the burses.

            Potter never noticed that he saw, but there were times when Harry’s robes would move just right and he would see starches and burses on the boy’s arms. He even came to class with one on his cheek a few days ago. Snape had asked, but the boy had given him a lame excuse about tripping on the stairs, which wasn’t that far out there, but he had known the boy was lying. It was in how the boy would never quite look at him. In detentions he was quiet and never complained about his work. Snape had run out of things to ask him to do, he was so efficient and quick, so he let the boy do his homework. It was not usually how he operated but he was sure it got the message across. Still, he was worried.

            Snape didn’t think he could take much more of Potter’s angelic attitude. It just wasn’t the boy. Yes he wanted respect, and yes he wanted quiet, and yes he wanted the boy to actually do his homework, but he had never wanted the boy to lose his spark. That will to live and break rules that made Snape’s life so difficult. No he wanted Potter to control it. Not lose it.

            It wasn’t lost on Severus that this total indifference to life had started the day after his mistreatment of the boy. Now realistically Severus knew that his words and actions would not have gotten such a response from Potter. Still….he wondered. Could it finally have been the straw that had broken the camel’s back? Could it be that Potter believed he would find no solace anywhere, not even from teachers? Could it be he was turning into a sentimental old fool that would soon go around asking people to have a lemon drop?  Nahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, who was he kidding? The boy was probably just depressed about no longer being the famous Harry Potter.

            Snape growled to himself and threw his quill down. Potter would be here in a little while and he would not be done with the inventory. He thought briefly about letting the boy do it, but shook his head. Letting Potter around potions, even if he was doing better in class, made him shiver in fear. No telling what that idiot would do. The boy tended to do things without thinking about it, all the time.

            Suddenly a knock sounded and Severus sighed, let the show begin.

            Harry was nervous. He had done everything in his power to show Snape that he was truly sorry. That he was not a brat, but nothing seemed to work. Snape seemed to still be overly hostile. It was starting to wane, because Harry was sure not even Snape could keep his anger going for more than a few days, but it was still there and Harry wanted it gone. He wanted the Snape from the infirmary that protected him from Lockhart and the Ravenclaw bullies. He wanted Snape’s gruff but tender manner to ward off the fear. But most of all he did not want to be pitied, and for some reason Harry had in his pretty little head that Snape could provide that. That Snape was the best candidate to play the role of his “protector”, even if the man couldn’t stand him. Harry knew that Snape wouldn’t let Lockhart or anyone hurt him. So with a sigh Harry knocked and waited for Snape to yell. Sure enough he heard the man’s silky voice and pushed the door opened.

            “Get your homework out and finish it!” Snape barked. He wasn’t dressed in his regular school clothes. Instead he was in a faded pair of blue jeans, a white tee shirt, and trainers. He even had his hair tied back in a short pony tail. He looked cool, and Harry thought it was the oddest thing he had ever seen.  Snape didn’t notice Harry openly staring at him he only turned on his heel and went back into his storage cabinet. After a minute he finally heard a backpack unzip and he nodded to himself when a chair scarped against the floor. Yes, Potter was obeying him, for once.

            Harry was almost finished when he heard a crash. Worried he stood quickly and ran into the supply closet. He found a few broken vials on the floor. Snape was groaning and holding his head. There were no nasty smelling potions on the floor, so Harry assumed that they had been empty. Still he wanted to make sure.

            “They didn’t spill on you did they professor?” Harry asked worriedly going towards his professor.

            “Does it look like it?” Snape snapped mutter something about stupid Gryffindors. Harry sighed and then he saw the blood on Snape’s hand. Apparently Snape had cut himself.

            “Come on sir,” Harry said helping his Professor up. Snape wasn’t really paying much attention his head and hand hurt too much. Harry led his Professor to his desk and left to get a wet hand towel. He also grabbed the small garbage can and some tweezers from the supply closet. He came back just in time to see Snape fiddle with his wand. Brushing it aside Harry sat down his supplies, pulled up a chair, and grabbed Snape’s hand, gently and quickly pulling the little slivers of glass out. Frowning he asked, “How did it happen sir?”

            On Snape’s part he was shocked. Harry Potter, the boy who lived to torment him, was pulling glass slivers out of his hand. He was twelve, how the hell did he know how to do something like this with that level of skill. Any other twelve year old would have panicked. They would have gone to find Pomprey, or listened to his instructions on what to get. They never would have thought to take matters into their own hands. Some would have fainted at the sight of blood. Not for the first Snape wondered who the boy really was, and if he had misjudged him horribly.

            “None of your business Potter,” Snape growled falling back onto old habits. He usually did when something or someone was making him feel uncomfortable. Potter defiantly was.

            “I did not mean to pry sir,” Harry replied. He knew his Professor would be not speak to him, but he also knew that he did not want the man to focus on the pain in his hand, “I only wanted to make sure you did not hurt yourself anywhere else, sir.” Harry pulled the last sliver out and threw it into the garbage can. Smiling slightly at his potions master he said, “All done.”

            Snape looked on as Harry carefully wrapped his hand up. The cuts were actually deep and he would have to go see Poppy to stitch them up, he should probably also have her check his head.

            “Why don’t you go up to the infirmary,” Harry replied with a soft, shy smile, “I’ll clean up your potions cabinet.”

            “No,” Snape replied, and Harry could detect anger in his voice although he did not understand what he had done wrong. Maybe Snape did not take too kindly to being manhandled although he didn’t say anything before, but then again the world had been spinning for him.

            “Go to Gryffindor tower and finish your homework,” Snape growled standing and clutching his hand to his chest. Harry just stood there looking forlornly at him. What had he done? He thought he was doing a good thing in helping Snape, but apparently it just pissed him off. Maybe he was the type that hated help?

            “Go Potter!” Snape thundered and Harry quickly gathered his things, trying to keep tears from streaming down his face. He had helped the man! He had thought he had done a good thing. Harry scurried out of the classroom and bolted down the hallway. Why did he always get in trouble? Harry finally sagged against the wall near Gryffindor tower and shook his head. What had he done to make Snape made at him? Then a realization dawned on him….and a voice very like his Uncle Vernon announced in his head, “You’re a sick freak. Nobody would want to touch you….everybody hates you…..nobody wants you around.”

            Harry shook his head and ran into the Tower. He bolted up the stairs and jumped into his bed pulling the curtains around his bed and clutched his pillow to his chest. These were times that he wished that he had a pet or a plushy that he could cuddle. He hung his head and let the tears fall. It suddenly occurred to him that no matter how hard he tired no adult would ever like him.

            Snape was angry at himself. Here Potter was helping him and all he could do was snap. He didn’t even notice how upset Harry had gotten until he was running out of his classroom, again, in tears. Severus groaned. What was wrong with the boy now? What did he keep on doing that was so horrible? Snape thought that the boy would already be used to his prickly manner, and indeed it had seemed that way when the boy was tending to his hand. Yet, the boy ran off when he told him to go back to the Tower. He would have thought the boy would have been happy about an early leave from detention. He left his classroom and walked to the infirmary, thinking back on the incident. Suddenly a strange and somewhat surreal thought came to him….could Harry have been reaching out? Could he have been trying to…..bond? or something? Snape was puzzled but then he shook that thought from his head. James Potter’s son bond with him, Snivilles? Snape snorted, he was sure that the boy would rather drink an unknown potion. Still, the boy had been upset, and for some reason he couldn’t help but wonder if for the first time since the infirmary, he had seen the real Harry Potter. Suddenly Severus felt sick….if Harry had indeed been trying to reach out and show someone his real self….oh no….Snape groaned as he stood outside of the infirmary. He had pretty much told the child he wasn’t worth anything…oh hell. Well….there was nothing for it. He just had to hope the boy would get over it. Because he was not going to apologize, he just wasn’t. He didn’t have it in him to apologize to an overly sensitive brat. With that decision made he went into the infirmary to hear Poppy squall like a monkey.

            Still, as Severus watching Poppy stitch up her hand he couldn’t help but remember how gentle the boy had been, how careful and he couldn’t help but wonder where he had learned it.