“Weasleys! Bloody Weasleys.”

Severus Snape stalked the corridors of Hogwarts on a mission, black robes billowing, purpose echoing in each stride, fists balled at his sides. Obsidian eyes lit with an inner black fury, face set in a fierce scowl which made first years quiver and seventh years pray for the unsuspecting souls that would fall prey to his foul temper. May they rest in peace, amen!

The Weasley Twins were the most impudent brats that had ever crossed him and which were to blame for his current predicament. Oh, he had no proof. But everyone knew this was the handiwork of the notorious twins. And by Merlin if he ever lay his hands on the evidence.....He let his thoughts trail off, and sinister smirk that would even give Voldemort a run for his money, graced his face. He was envisioning the wondrous tortures he would put them through, gruelling manual labour, good old fashioned lines, perhaps force fed a potion or ten. Oh he revelled in the ideas, that is, until something pink came into his line of sight. And as quick as a flash, the scowl returned to his face, and the glint in his eye had a new fervour to it.

Irritated he batted it from his face, only to have it mockingly swing forward again. It hissed, its obscenely pink tongue, tickling his nose. He had reached boiling point at this stage. Now deep in the bowels of the dungeons with no students to witness, he roared his frustration, letting it seep into the very walls of the castle..

“PINK BLOODY SNAKES. MERLIN ABOVE, WEASLEYS I WILL EVISCERATE YOUR ETERNAL ORGANS FOR MY PERSONAL STORES WHEN I LAY MY HANDS ON YOU!.”

Needless to say students and staff alike heard the Potions Master and began their final prayers and tributes to the Weasleys. And as for the Weasleys themselves, some four floors up, they eyed each other worriedly. Perhaps they had gone too far this time and vowed to stay clear of him for the foreseeable future.

Taking a deep breath, or several, he immediately felt better and intent on retrieving the antidote from his office. His hair, which had been previously silky, yes, SILKY NOT GREASY, could now be compared to a pink version of Medusa.

Slamming the reinforced door almost off its hinges in his fury, he whipped about like a tempest, desperately searching for the antidote. He knew he had it here, somewhere. But in the end, he rested wearily against his desk, floor littered with parchment, bottles placed precariously about the room, objects upturned and uprooted from their original position. His search, futile.

Why couldn’t anything be simple with the world. Why were Weasleys twins still here and not expelled? Why didn’t Voldemort just off himself and make his life much easier? And why was the infernal Potter the bane of his existence? Why couldn’t his life just be easy? Hmm? Was that such a big ask?

He ran his hand through his hair, forgetting himself before pulling back sharply with a cry as one of the monstrosities bit him. Snakes! Of all things, pink bloody snakes. He could tolerate green, silver, even blue. But pink? That was desecrating the very noble reputation of the creatures. He would never see them in them in the same light as before. They provided a constant hiss in his ears that was proving to be very irksome. And he was at his wit's end.

Then he caught a flash of lurid pink out of the corner of his eye, at first thinking it was another infernal snake before he spied the vile...vial of antidote which must of rolled beneath his antique cabinet during his frantic search. He almost smiled in relief. The key word being almost, as being Snape meant he didn't smile. It was a foreign concept to him. As it was he exhaled deeply, allowing himself to finally relax, within the grasp of normality.

With a quick spell the vial zoomed into his outstretched hand and he downed the lot, his movements a blur, he was so anxious to get it down. And in a flash the snakes had disappeared to be replaced by normality. Merlin above he was too old for this, in his thirties, he thought it was time too retire. He would check for grey hairs later.

Using the wall to just prop himself up while his frail nerves recovered., fate , unfortunately had destined for him to be miserable and in a one of a million chance he caught his hand off the fang's of an old silver snake ornament embedded in the wall, of which he never found a viable use for.

Cursing his dire luck today and clutching his bloody hand to his chest, he failed to hear the slow grinding of stone against stone. If he were a muggle, he would liken it to the old Indiana Jones movie, just at the part were a secret compartment suddenly is revealed in a wall, floor etc., sucking the misfortunate down the hole. And lo and behold, with a shout of surprise, Severus Snape, the greasy git of the dungeon, disappeared down an opening that appeared in the floor beneath him. And the last glimpse of him was of a flailing bloody hand grasping thin air and a very girly scream, that he would later deny.

P&S P&S

He didn't open his eyes. It wasn't worth it. He just wanted to disappear from this hideous day. With minimal movement he tried to inspect the damage. Right, starting from the bottom. Toes? Check! Movable, no pain. Legs?Hmm, bruised but otherwise intact. Hands/Arms? Ugh, pain in left hand. Suspected damage, gash from thumb to baby finger. To be confirmed once eyes are opened. Head? Bruised, not serious, no concussion, just a great big bloody headache. Merlin why couldn't he just have one normal day?

“I wish that fervently every single day of my life Professor!”

He almost groaned aloud. Someone was answering his thoughts. That certainly was not normal. He must be imagining things in his worse for wear state.

However a chuckle echoed around. “I assure you, I'm no mind reader as you have constantly told me. However when you speak your thoughts aloud, well that of course gives me the power to answer said thoughts.”

Right, he was going crazy, it was official. Or Mr. Potter was currently in his immediate vicinity, something which he dearly hoped were hallucinations from his tumble. He would have preferred the crazy theory. Opening his eyes tentatively, his headache flared for a second before calming and his vision blurred slightly. Finally he focused on...what the hell? Oh right, that was a person, upside down, or he was upside down. He righted himself.# He was definitely losing his wits. Because Potter was definitely not the person stretched out in front of him. It just goes to show, if you wish hard enough and long enough, Merlin knows for how many years he wished Potter would disappear, then dreams could come true. Or least its proven you've had hallucinations!

Currently, before him was a student he could swear he never in his life saw before. He knew he was a student because of the robes, a Gryffindor student at that. But for all that was good in the world he could not put a name to the face.

He was of slight build, but well defined muscles could be seen. If he was a betting man, he would have pinned him for a 7th year at least, if not a past pupil. His hair was black, but had natural red highlights to it. It was messy, but in a tamed way and looked very natural on him. He seemed very relaxed slouched up against the stone wall, hands behind his head, eyes closed, a slight smile lingering on his face. He just couldn't pull a name for him from anywhere, and it was not like him at all. That is, until the boy opened his eyes.

Oh not a fricken hope! There was only two other people with that exact shade of emerald eyes and one was deceased. It was NOT who he thought it was unless Lily Potter gave the slip and there are a couple of illegitimate children running around. He closed his eyes, hoping it was some sort of illusion, figment of his imagination, anything. But alas, he was as solid as himself which he found out when he tossed a small pebble at him and was provided with a reaction, if only slight.

“Please, just please please PLEASE tell me your NOT Potter!” he croaked out. Hoping against hope.

The boy merely had an innocent smile plastered to his face, with a sly smirk glittering in his eyes. “Why Professor? Surely you would know a student you have taught for nigh on 6 years now, hmm? One whom you've had a...volatile relationship with, sir?”

He just groaned. Obviously, if he was a betting man, he would have lost! His headache had just intensified again. What was wrong with the world. His day had gone from bad, to worse, to catastrophic. “Please tell me Potter, that you are like that due to some mere, joke or mishap or...or...or something?” It wasn't like him to be lost for words. Must be due to the injuries. However, the smirk on Potter's face told him all and he groaned again.

“So Potter, where have I so ungraciously been dumped by another one of Hogwarts infernal secret passages. Do I want to know?”

“Why Professor, don’t you know?” His smirk widened as he nimbly jumped up and brushed himself off. He had gotten taller as well, to complete his transformation. He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, though it was more mocking than anything else. “Welcome, Professor, to the Chamber of Secrets.”

Snape's jaw dropped like a fish gulping water. Finally he took in his surroundings, which he had so readily dismissed before. A dank smelly chamber, the walls adorned with snake ornaments, and statues. Of all the secret passages to be in his office. Merlin though, he was standing in a secret chamber built by Slytherin himself. He felt like he had entered a sacred place. A laugh, shook him from his fractured thoughts.

“Close the mouth Professor, you might swallow flies.” Potter screwed up his face, “Or maybe something nastier. Merlin knows what lives down here other than when the basilisk did. That is, until I slew it”

“Basilisk?” Snape questioned. He never heard of a Basilisk here and it was ludicrous to think that one was kept in a school full of children. Until Potter pointed to an obscure corner in which the corpse lay, preserved perfectly. He felt faint. Potter slew a Basilisk! Or more improtantly, Potter owned the corpse of a Basilisk! Oh God he was going to hate himself for this, but it was necessary.

On his knees, Snape literally begged Potter, to his utter shame. “I swear to God, Buddha, Merlin, whatever, if you let me collect ingredients from the specimen, I will forever be in you debt.” He hated himself for putting himself in that position, but there was no other choice.

“Don’t worry Professor I planned to give it too you anyway. I certainly have no use for it. Though I suppose I could thin of something...” Potter grinned evilly

Snape groaned, but was almost delirious with exhilaration so he conveniently forgot the last part of what Potter said. Imagine what he could do with it, the ingredients, the potions he could make, invent, he would be a millionaire …..

“Hem, sorry Professor, to interrupt your musings, but your slightly bleeding, perhaps to death.” he arched a delicate eyebrow, something he recognised himself as doing when he was pointing something extremely idiotic to a dim brat.

“Right, um, yeah...” he was completely disoriented by everything. Looking now, he realised it was a nasty gash, one that was likely to bled until his internal organs shrivelled. How embarrassing.

With a sigh, as if it were a great burden, Potter led him to a hard, straight back, wooden chair. In a voice that broke no argument, “Hand Professor!” Without any sort of coherent thought Snape gave him his hand, and distantly watched as he pulled vials of potions, bandages and other various implements he might need.

Within ten minutes, Potter was packing up, and Snape's hand was neatly bandaged and surprisingly, pain free. “It should be grand professor, just have it checked my Mme. Pomphrey as I wouldn’t claim to be an expert even if I have experience with injuries...” and he just chatted away oblivious to astounded potions master. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that Potter didn’t seem to show him any sort of loathing or disrespect or anything of the sort. And he had just healed him. AND he Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, had just drank an unknown Potion from a student he loathed and had not died...yet!

Finally breaking himself from his reverie, he decided he needed answers and quite abruptly interrupted the boy, mid sentence. “Potter, what the hell...just I don’t know, I want answers. Why in the name of Merlin do you look like that and what the hell are you doing down here?”

“Well that’s a bit of a story you know?” Potter stated evasively.

“I've all the time in the world, its not like I exactly no how how to get out of here.” Snape retorted.

Potter again smirked in quite a Slytherin way. It was disconcerting. Pointing to his left, “Straight down the corridor and up the stairs on the right,. You come out a secret passage on the corridor of Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom.”

Good piece of information to know, but not what he wanted. “Potter?”

He sighed, suddenly becoming quite serious. “ What is there to know Professor? This is who I am. The true me. I've been playing the part of the naïve little boy to Dumbledore, the loyal friend to the other arms of the Golden trio, the extremely lucky, annoying kid to Voldemort who just won't die, the slave to my Aunt and Uncle and an exact reincarnation of my father to you. You all see what you want to see, I...I just helped you all along a bit.”

Snape couldn't help the surprise that showed on his face, This was certainly not what he was expecting. He felt like he was going into some sort of shock or something, as all his preconceived notions of the boy began to waver.

“But I always knew what peoples true motivations were. It was, you could say, a gift I've had for a long time.” He checked them off his fingers one by one, “Dumbledore, I was a pawn, to be manipulate and thrown to the dogs. My friends used me for my fame and money. Voldemort's only reason to kill me was because I was making him look incompetent, though he would much prefer if I joined him. My relatives, they were lazy fucks, excuse the language, that couldn't give a rat's arse about me and used me to do all the mangy shite they didn't want to do. And you, well at least you were honest, I will give you that, but you used me as a venting exercise, for all the rage that had built up from my bullying father. You all used me and so I just manipulated you all, whilst you all think I'm a good little boy, blinded by my innocence, doing your bidding.”

“Potter you cant expect me to realistically believe that the headmaster would use you, his little golden boy, like that.” He almost scoffed at the mere notion.

“Really, Professor, open you mind and look at his actions as a whole. Or better yet, I'll give you evidence that you cant refute and that you will have to acknowledge. Everyone knows you're the person to go to if things...aren't so well at home, right?”

He nodded, but couldn't see where this was going. Surely not Po...

“Well I'll assume you absolutely don’t condone the notion that a child would have to live in an abusive situation.”

Again he nodded, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach as Potter held a self satisfied twinkle. And suddenly Potter had somehow gotten past HIS occlumency shields. Something the Dark Lord couldn’t even do. And images started to flash by, slowing down slowly before they began to play out. And never in his life could he predict what he was about to see. Numerous images of Potter being hit, beaten, whipped, tortured by his relatives. Year after year, and the conversations showing the fact that the headmaster knew and had done nothing. Evidence!

Suddenly he was back to himself and he drew in a shaky breath. They weren’t fabricated and he knew in his heart of hearts all preconceived notions of everyone he had ever known, collapsed in one fell swoop. And he felt very very weary and old as he sunk to the floor.

Potter flopped down beside him, with a sympathetic look.

“Why me, why are you telling me of all people, the one who detests you and makes no effort to hide ...”

“Exactly, Professor,” Potter cut across, “You make no effort to hide it. You have always been honest in your hate, even if you may have been blinded. This is who I am.” He got up off the floor, standing tall and proud. “ I uphold many masks, I am the unexpected. What better way to surprise my enemies than to throw the unexpected at them. And I include Dumbledore on that list as well as many others besides Voldemort. But this is who I am and you are the first, besides my stinking relations to know the true me. I have lived through their abuse and it has made me stronger but equally as ruthless. But THIS is who I am”

With a wave of his hand, no wand in sight, he shimmered and transformed into the Harry Potter we all knew and were fooled by. Wait, hand? No wand? Wandless magic? Merlin!

Potter looked like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “Surprises Professor. Surprises! Don’t bother telling anybody Professor. Face it, who would believe you.” He smirked and with that strode confidently out a side tunnel to Merlin only knows where.

Snape wanted to scream, he wanted to rant and rave. Potter, that bloody...bloody...bloody Slytherin! His thoughts were a mess, he didn’t know who to trust, he was confused and everything just wanted to come out. And it did, in one word, laced with anger, sorrow, confusion determination, and finally respect.

“POTTER!”