"Mr. Potter, I do not understand why you persist in doubting my motives towards you and your friends. And even toward Albus Dumbledore. Is it merely that you dislike me, or perceive that I have an undeserved hatred of you?" Harry flopped down at one of the desks, but said nothing. "Merlin be damned, Potter! I have said I would listen to you, that I would advise you if you'd but ask..."

"And I said that I don't trust you." He added, "Sir."

Snape seated himself. Misbehaviour, hijinks, fights, and blown up cauldrons- that's what he knew. That's what he understood in children. He felt he was putting far too much energy in a boy that only continued to annoy him further. He was about ready to just give up. He didn't know what to say to the boy anymore. Suddenly, he smiled thinly. Perhaps that is the key, he mused as he stared at the emotional Gryffindor. Snape crossed his arms over his chest, pulling his robes closed around himself. He was silent.

Harry fumed. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for or expecting, but this silence wasn't it. Where is the shouting? The insults? C'mon, show me I'm right and call me a typical Gryffindor dunderhead! I dare you. He chanced a glance upward at the stony figure in black and received no clue as to what was going on. Why do you have to be like this, Snape? Trying to figure the Potions Master out was like trying to read a book that had half of its pages missing. And now this. More silence? It looked like he was going to have to do the talking, now. Harry latched onto the thin thread Snape had handed him about 'dislike' and hoped that what he said next would make some kind of sense. He didn't want to spend the rest of the evening in the library.

"You despised my father: your words, not mine. You despised Sirius, my godfather. You even wanted to hand him over to the Dementors, so they could destroy his soul. You've yet to say anything against my mother, but maybe you've just been waiting for the right moment. After all, she's Muggle-born, not a pureblood like you and Malfoy." Harry was unaware of the faint flicker of pain that crossed Snape's features as Harry mentioned his mother. "For that alone I think I've earned the right not to trust you. Hell, I have a right to hate you!"

Harry was breathing heavily and had to get up and away from the desk. Snape had yet to move and he wondered if maybe the man's anger was boiling underneath waiting for him to say the wrong thing and then he'd blow.

"Just when I think I know what you're all about, Professor, Dumbledore then puts my safety in your hands. But, do you even talk to me? Do you make me feel safe? No, you don't. You make snide remarks about my famous scar, and you do everything you possibly can to belittle me in front of everyone I care about. So what if you've saved my life and Dumbledore trusts you above all others? Has it ever occurred to you that I'm just a kid and that everyone's put it on my shoulders to be the bloody saviour of the wizarding world?"

He took a deep breath and faced the taller man whose face still showed no emotion. That stupid face. That big, hooked nose. Those bloody, damned black eyes that stab right into my soul! Harry's anger was spilling over and his voice rose in volume. "Do you know you actually make me miss my aunt, and uncle, and my fat cousin? With them, I know where the punches are coming from! I know how to make sure I get another meal! I can heal bruises, bloody noses and I'm real good with broken fingers! Do you know how many 'feasts' I've eaten in eleven years that were garbage scraps? I've eaten the neighbours dogfood when I was really freaky and they decided their food wasn't good enough for me. You want to know how I felt when that stupid dog died? I was angry because there wouldn't be anymore easy food!"

Snape's stoic expression almost faltered as Harry angrily listed the treatment of his family towards him. Is this true? I don't recall ever having seen signs of abuse. True, he is a thin boy, small, but... dogfood? Has he really been healing broken bones? Dear Merlin, is Albus at all aware of this? Snape tightened the grim lines of his mouth. Harry was pacing back and forth like a caged animal. He'd let him finish.

Harry jabbed a finger at Snape. "You know what? You HAVE to take care of us. You HAVE to feed us. You're not doing anything because you want to do it, but because you think you have to do it. So, what happens when we go back? Am I to go back to being dunderheaded, moronic Potter? James Potter's hated son, the Boy-Who-Lived-Who-Wishes-He'd-Died?"

Harry was so angry that tears began to stream down his cheeks. He'd held all of this in for so long and when it started, he couldn't stop. Now, of course, he was crying in front of the last person he wanted to show any weakness to. Stop it! Please just stop these bloody tears! He turned his back on Snape just so he didn't have to look at him. He removed his glasses, tried to wipe away the tears, but was entirely unsuccessful. If Voldemort were to show up right now and hit him with an Avada Kedavra, he couldn't care less.

Snape could deal with anger. He could handle hatred, dislike, and even stupidity. On the other hand, tears were not something he could handle at all. The tears of a child, much less those of Harry Potter, were far worse. What truly tore at Snape's heart (the same heart many denied he had) was the plea to just be a child. The simple desire to want to go to school, to play Quidditch, to flirt with girls, and to worry only over N.E.W.T.s and O.. Severus Snape remembered a young boy who had had a similar desire in school, but there were those who made certain that he would be denied the simple pleasures in one's young life.

Snape conjured a handkerchief for Harry and floated it over to him. He couldn't offer a hug to the boy. He knew that such a gesture, besides being somewhat awkward and insincere on his part, would be rebuffed by the boy. Snape's mind was spinning in vicious circles as he tried to figure out what to do next. He now realised he couldn't just ask Harry to trust him. He hadn't earned such trust. He also couldn't leave things where they were now. As for the boy's family life... that was something he'd have to address later.

"Mr. Potter, have I ever lied to you?" Snape's voice was so low, Harry didn't hear him at first.

"Huh? What did you say?"

"Have I... ever... lied to you?" Harry was about to come back with a snide remark, but Snape held up a hand to stop him. "Think before replying, Mr. Potter." He then repeated himself a third time. "I know my words have often been venomous and condescending..."

Harry interrupted caustically, "Try insulting!"

Snape nodded his head once, then continued, "In all the time you've been my student and I've been you're teacher, have you known me to have ever lied to you?"

Harry wiped away his tears with the handkerchief provided and then blew his nose in it. Wadding it up, he stuffed it into his pocket. Harry tried to find a time when Snape could have lied to him. He could think of nothing. What he could recall was that Snape was a man who, when he spoke, could be brutal about the truth. He could also sidestep the truth with more alacrity than anyone he knew. He supposed that was a Slytherin skill, but then, maybe it was just a Snape skill. Harry also knew, from what little Dumbledore had ever imparted to him was that Severus Snape was a man with secrets. Secrets that involved Dumbledore, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and even his own father.

"No sir," Harry finally spoke, his voice heavy with defeat. "I can't think of any time you've lied. You've kept secrets from me, just as Professor Dumbledore has and Sirius has, too. I always have to guess where everyone is. It's..." he frowned as threw himself into one of the more comfortable library chairs. "It's a game of chess, sir, that's what it's like. Each move comes not with just one move, but many. I'm not good at chess, Ron is. I just wish that someone would tell me what the next move is without me having to worry about whether or not my head is going to get smashed in."

Snape sat in a chair opposite Harry and regarded the boy. He understood. His own duplicitous nature was a daily analysis of guessing who would move next and where. Like Harry, he was trapped on the same chessboard, only he knew more about the other players than Harry did. "You're a pawn, Mr. Potter. Whether at home, at school, or trying to defeat the Dark Lord, someone else is in control."

Harry's eyes widened. Did Snape actually get it? "Yes, sir. I'm always being told what to do, but I'm not told why. I mean, I know the BIG why. Voldemort killed my parents and somehow I have the power to kill him." He huffed in frustration. "I don't know what to do or what to think anymore, Professor Snape."

He sighed heavily, and then settled his green eyes upon Snape. "You're worse, Professor. Sometimes I think that maybe, if I asked you a question, you wouldn't feed me lemon drops, or give me pitying looks, or tell me some story from your past just to avoid answering. But, you hate me. You're this evil shadow lurking in the corners waiting for me to do something stupid just so you can take points away and give me detention." Harry wiped away another tear and Snape conjured another handkerchief for him. "What am I supposed to do when you don't have to listen to me anymore? How am I supposed to act in Potions again while Neville's melting cauldrons, Draco's sabotaging my ingredients, and you go back to bullying me?"

Snape waited a moment longer. He could see the longing in the boy's eyes. He hoped that Harry would voice that longing before he continued. When Harry continued to look up at him, he conjured a chair so that he was looking directly at the boy, on the same level.

Harry's voice, when he spoke, was small, and desperate, "I want to trust... someone. I wish I could trust you, but... I'm... "

Snape leaned close to Harry and took the boy's hands into his own. Harry flinched at his touch, but he held tightly to his fingers. "You're afraid." Harry simply nodded as another tear slipped down his cheek. "You're afraid that the man you've seen here will disappear and I'll become the 'dark, greasy git' of the dungeons, the bane of existence to all Gryffindors, and the man who hates and lives to bully Harry Potter." Snape's voice was gentle and unlike any tone Harry had ever heard before. He listened intently. "The world we come from is a cruel place, Harry. Upon your mother's death, I made a vow to her and to Dumbledore to protect you. It is unfortunate that I cannot afford to show you any kindness for it would mean my death, and yours as well. If we return, I will become the despised, greasy git of the dungeons. I will take points, whether or not it's deserved, and give you detentions that will have you cursing my grandparents. We all have roles we must play in order to protect those we love."

Harry's tears were flowing again, but in silence. He seemed so much younger than his years and with a sigh, Snape knelt down upon the floor and pulled Harry into an embrace. The boy didn't flinch or pull away. His arms wrapped tightly around Snape's neck, and Harry sobbed into his shoulder. Snape held tightly onto Harry, patting his back gently.

Snape felt ill at the burden he'd added to the child's shoulders. Of course he couldn't show Dumbledore's Chosen One any favour in public, but he could have made a private effort towards Harry. His old hatred and prejudices towards James Potter had made him blind to the fact that the child he'd sworn to protect was also Lily's son. Bully. Harry's accusation was accurate. Snape had become that which he had taken great pains to never become and he had failed.

"Harry?" Snape spoke when the tears seemed to be fading to hiccups. Harry pulled away slightly, but didn't allow Snape to let go of him. Snape took hold of Harry's arms and looked up into his tear-reddened eyes. "I am not asking for your trust today. It is something I must earn. I do, however, make this promise to you. I shall never lie to you. If you ask me something that I am unable to give you an answer to, I will state it so you are clear that I am unable to speak. Talk to me and I shall listen."

Snape gave Harry another handkerchief and Harry wiped his face. When it seemed he could talk again, the boy said, "Can I ask you a question now?" Snape merely nodded. "Are we really trying to find a way home or are you telling us what we want to hear?"

"You believe that I want to stay here with Professor Arcahnum," Snape said simply.

"Halloween night... I came downstairs for a snack and I saw you with her... and I... I didn't mean to listen, but... I heard you tell her you wanted to stay and I... I'm sorry, sir."

Snape rose to his feet. Harry was almost sure the Professor would yell at him now, but he didn't. "Let us return to the parlour, Harry. I think your friends deserve to hear the answer to this question."

Harry wiped at his tear-stained face and hesitated. "They're going to know..." Harry whispered.

Snape studied Harry's face. The boy's eyes were swollen, red, and his skin was blotchy from the tears and emotions. Snape took out his wand. "A simple glamour," he explained as he whispered an incantation. He transfigured a nearby book into a mirror and handed it to Harry. "Acceptable?"

Harry nodded and smiled. "Yeah. Thanks, Professor."

Snape went towards the door of the library and Harry automatically fell into step behind the taller man. Snape paused, and waved him forward to walk by his side.