Harry sped down the corridor as fast as his two legs could carry him. He wanted desperately to get back to Gryffindor Tower where he could at least pretend that everything was all right. It was still early in the evening and numerous students loitering in the halls, all of them were Slytherin; it was the dungeons after all. They leered at him as he ran past, mocking his presence in Slytherin territory. It was not a good idea to linger in these parts of the castle for a long time, unless you were a Slytherin, a professor, or a ghost. Slytherins were rather territorial and did not welcome visitors from any other house, especially Gryffindor.

As tonight's unwelcome guest beelined for the seventh floor and home, he ran into a a world of trouble.

“Hey, look who it is,” came the mocking voice from an adjacent hall. There was no mistaking that pompous, high-and-mighty tone. That voice belonged to Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince and Harry greatest foe at Hogwarts school, Snape notwithstanding.

Harry did not linger, he push past the Slytherin and continued down the hall. But Draco Malfoy did not take to being pushed aside.

“Hey! I'm talking here, Scarhead!” The much taller Slytherin grabbed Harry's arm and yanked him back.

“I'm not in the mood, Malfoy, leave me alone,” Harry twisted his arm out of the blond's grip and turned down the hall once more.

“Don't you walk away when I am speaking, Potter.” Malfoy sneered superiorly. He motioned his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, who obeyed like the good sidekicks there were. The two moved surprisingly fast despite their large bulks and miniature brains.

Harry let out a grunt as he was pushed hard against the wall and kept there by the two larger boys. “Let me go, Malfoy!” He demanded.

“Manners, Potter, manners. We want to respect our superiors, don't we?” The Slytherin purred in that classic Malfoy accent.

“As if I could ever respect a ferret,” Harry gibed, his head still pounding from before. “Worshiping a ferret, that certainly says something about these two lovers of yours!”

Malfoy's face darkened with humiliation and anger. One year ago, the 'ferret incident' had spread like the bubonic plague across Hogwarts grounds. Within two days,. there was not a soul in Hogwarts, dead or alive, who have not heard of Malfoy's unfortunate encounter with Mad-Eye. These days, it was one of the best leverages anybody had against the blond. It was also the worst thing you could call him. The comment about 'love' did not help.

“Shut up!” The enraged Slytherin growled and landed a heavy blow to Harry's abdomen. “I dare you to say that again, Potter! I'll hex you so hard you're pathetic, dead parents will feel it!” He finished with malice.

Harry cringed and bent double as the blow fell. Hot tears jerked in his eyes, and not just from the physical blow.

Had he mentioned how he hated Mondays?

“Fuck off, Malfoy!” Harry choked.

“You are in my territory, Potty. Best do as I say. Lets begin with an apology, shall we?” It wasn't a question, Malfoys never ask; they were far too prestigious. Malfoys command, demand and expect to be obliged.

“In your dreams, Malfoy!” Harry retorted angrily.

The blond only laughed, “Yeah, there too, Potty.”

He then casually strolled forward and sneered down at the smaller boy pressed against the wall.

“Stay away from me!” Harry yelled as he struggled to get free. If only he could get to his wand, there'd be a chance. But the hold on his arms only tightened, making it impossible for him to move an inch. Harry winced; this was a very familiar position. Dudley and his gang also found it fun to harass him like this. Draco Malfoy, however, was far more dangerous than Harry's dimwitted cousin.

“What happened to your face, Golden Boy?” The Slytherin taunted, smiling. “Tsk, tsk. Can't have our hero going around looking like this! The press is going to have a field day!”

Harry seethed, could this night get any worse?

“What's wrong, Potter? Cat got your tongue?” Grabbe and Goyle laughed along with their leader until he shot them an annoyed glare. Harry doubted the two even knew what the phrase meant.

“None of your business, Malfoy.”

“Oh, come. I'm only trying to help. Here, why don't you let me fix it for you,” Draco drew his wand, and pointed it at Harry's face. Harry groaned, he fought gain but to no avail. He hated being so short or as Mrs. Weasley had once said, scrawny.

Where were the professors when you needed them. Anyone would do, Filch, a ghost, even Snape! Thought Harry, who was getting more agitated by the second.

“Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle and Mr. Potter. My, my, what a party,” Severus Snape purred sardonically as he appeared around the corner. He advanced towards the four in several quick strides, his dark cloak billowing ominously. “Do we have a problem here, gentlemen?”

Harry's head snapped around; speak of the devil! It was Snape! Why did Mondays have to be so unpredictable? Harry didn't know what he wanted, to be cursed in the face by Malfoy, or to be taken by Snape after the catastrophe down in the dungeons only minutes before.

In a flash, Draco had stowed his wand away. Grabbe and Goyle, however, froze like deer in headlights, – still holding Harry the wall. The blond Slytherin shot them another glare, one that said; don't say a word, let me handle it.

“No problem, sir.” Draco answered automatically, looking completely calm and stoic as if he was born to lie.

The Potions Master looked at his godson, then turned to the others and raised a skeptical eyebrow. Draco wanted to bang his head against the wall. Grabbe and Goyle were so slow, you'd think they were Muggles.

“Fighting in the halls, I see. I am very disappointed. Mr. Grabbe, Mr. Goyle, I suggest you release Mr. Potter immediately. I will take over from here.”

“Professor, as you can see we were just defending ourselves,” Draco explained, trying to come up with the words that would get Harry in the most trouble. “Out of the blue, just like that, he jumped me. He'd probably hexed me by now if Vince and Greg hadn't stopped him.”

“Indeed,” Snape said calmly as he assessed the situation.

Severus Snape knew he was biased, but he was not oblivious nor at all gullible unlike some professors of this school, whose names shall remain anonymous. He could tell that Draco was lying, though he had to admit the boy was quite proficient at the skill. Thanks or rather, no thanks to his father and the horrid upbringing. Anyway, Snape knew quite well it was his three Slytherins that initiated the whole fight, but why give up another chance to draw Gryffindor away from the House Cup.

“Thirty points from Gryffindor for starting a fight,” Severus declared with satisfaction. Then, the Head of House turned to his three smug pupils and ordered, “You three return to your dorms, I will see you in my office tomorrow. Seven o'clock, sharp.”

“What? But sir,” Draco began, apparently outraged by the 'unfairness' of it all.

Severus did not need to say a word, the look on his face spoke enough. It showed that he would not tolerate disobedience and that if Draco knew what was best for him, he'd better not say another word and do as he was told.

The Slytherin Head of House often looked the other way when his pupils started making trouble. If their behaviour was not serious, he'd often ignore it. Other times, it was simple enough to put the blame on the other House. When it came to Harry and Draco, there was no questions asked.

Outsiders often believed that there was no structure whatsoever within the Slytherin House. That was completely ridiculous. Severus Snape tolerated no nonsense. Within the Slytherin common areas, if you caused trouble and get caught, you'd find yourself in hot water faster than you could say 'sorry'. Professor Snape rarely disciplined his students in view of others, more often he'd speak to them in private.

Harry was confused, Snape had ordered Malfoy and the others to his office at 7 am? Did that mean they were in trouble? Why was that? Snape had always turned a blind eye to these things before. His uncertainty aside, Harry felt great satisfaction fill him. Finally, it was about time Malfoy got what was coming to him. As Harry grinned at the angry face of Malfoy junior, he could have sworn the blond had pouted, like a seven year old child.

“Yes, sir,” Malfoy grumbled. The Slytherin glared at Harry's smug face as if the whole situation was his fault. The fact that his Head of House just reprimanded him in public, and in front of Harry of all people, made him seethe. And that smug look on Harry's face made Malfoy want to hurt him so much more. The Slytherin worry about his 'detentions' with the Potions Master, he was well capable of worming his way out of trouble with Severus If his 'charming Draco godson' technique did not work, then Lucius would come and settle matters immediately.

“Very good,” Snape said, then tuned his attention to Harry and said in a low menacing voice. “Mr. Potter, follow me.”

Harry groaned and peeled himself off the wall. “Yes, sir,”

Draco and the others snickered as Harry followed Snape back down the deep, dark, candle lit corridor; back towards the office.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The walk back towards Snape's office could account as one of the most nerve-racking experience Harry's had all year. Harry dreaded to think what Snape would do with him now.

Calm down. Harry told himself. What's the worse he could do?

Harry ransacked his head for what to do as he was pushed down the hall, dragging his feet and causing Snape to snap at him. There was always the option of Dumbledore, but the headmaster had been ignoring him all year. He could always bolt for it, with his superior agility, he'd be sure to get away. But Snape had a hand on his shoulder, gripping tightly albeit not painfully. Then, there was the wand, but Harry doubt he'd win a duel a the former Death Eater and current Order spy.

Snape had been more than livid after the pensieve incident and had came dangerously close to tossing him bodily from the office. It was only too obvious the Potions professor did not want him to find out about the humiliating events in that took place in his Hogwarts years, especially that particular incident. If Snape had been furious with him for finding out and vengeful about the maltreatment he suffered at the hands of James Potter and the Marauders, then Harry did not want to think about how Snape felt now, after he had used the very name the man despised more than anything else.

Multiple scenarios ran through the Gryffindor's head, none of them had a pleasant ending.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus kept his emergency first-aid kit close at hand, you could never be too careful when dealing with inexperienced Potion students. Potter's injuries were not serious, a smudge of healing salve and a vial of potion would patch things up nicely.

But when he returned with the potion and salve at hand, the Gryffindor had somehow slipped off behind his back. Severus growled in frustration, this was not good. He had intended to heal the boy, settle things with a talk and sent him off to bed. Then he would go and confront the headmaster about the incident. But now that the boy's run off, it could complicate matters. Should anyone discover the boy in such a state there would be questions and next thing you know, there will be complaints filed against him and Howlers demanding his resignation.

Severus dropped the vials on a desk and hurried out the door. Several minutes later, he was guiding a very tense Harry Potter back down the dungeons. The scene he came upon was unnerving, Severus could not deny its similarity to his own days as a student in Hogwarts. Draco's behaviour reminded him of James Potter and the Marauders.

He had decided right then and there to have a serious talk with Draco and his friends, sometimes their bullying went too far to be ignored. There were things even he would not tolerate. Severus wished he could do more to guide his young godson in the right direction, but Lucius would have none of it.

As they traveled down the hall, Severus could sense the thick layer of apprehension flowing from his captive. Severus sighed, the boy looked like he was being guided to his execution. The bruise on his cheek had swollen to the size of a small mango, and although the cut had stopped bleeding, it was not a pretty sight.

“Are you alright?” He asked.

Harry looked up bewildered; had he heard right? Did Snape just ask if he was alright? Why would he care? “Huh?” Was all he could answer.

Severus rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Articulate to the tee, Potter. I said, are you alright?”

“Oh, um...yes, I'm...fine,” Harry gulped.

Neither talked for the rest of the way. The sound of silence echoed off the walls, making Harry even more uneasy. Finally, they arrived at the winding staircase that led to the Potion's office and Harry felt his heart sped up once more.

Severus nudged Harry into the threshold and led him to a chair.

“Sit,” he commanded, but Harry didn't move.

“I said, sit!” Severus said with a hint of iron behind his words.

Harry jumped at the harsh tone and sat. Severus rubbed his temple and let a tense breath escape.

“Did they do anything?” He asked, picking up the potion and salve.

“What?”

“Potter! I am getting tired of repeating myself! Did they do anything?”

“Oh, um, no. No, sir.” Harry stumbled, his heart racing. I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead. He's going to kill me, I am so dead.

Severus uncorked the both vials and handed one to Harry. “Drink.”

Harry stared at the blue-coloured potion warily, refusing to reach for the vial.

“A healing potion, Mr. Potter, not poison, I assure you.”

Harry still did not move. The last time Snape forced him to drink a potion, it was to test Dean's finished product, which worked...and had made him act out in the most retarded way until Snape gave him the antidote...at the end of the class. The Slytherins taunted him for weeks after, even his House mates occasionally teased him about it. He was rather touchy about the whole issue.

“Would you just drink the damned potion before I have to force it down your throat?” Severus snapped, he obviously haven't forgotten why he struck the boy in the first place.

Harry flinched and swallowed hard. He pressed back into the chair

Severus growled, this was not working. He wondered if it was more sensible to send the boy to Madame Pomprey and let her deal with it. Then again, he rather the school nurse did not see a student in such a state, she'd blow a gasket.

“Trust me, Mr. Potter. If I wished to harm you there'd be more efficient ways than forcing you to drink a potion,” Severus snorted. “Please tell me you are competent enough to recognize this potion, a seven year old would know what it is No doubt you have consumed it the countless times you were in the hospital wing?”

Harry did recognize the potion, and Snape was right, he drank it nearly every time he ended up in the hospital wing. It was a simple potion that sped up the healing process, as well as numb the pain, found not only in the health clinic, but in the average household.

But wasn't Snape the enemy? Why would he give Harry something that would make him feel better? Hermione had always been convinced that Snape was good despite his hateful exterior, and Dumbledore trusted the man. Harry was pretty sure he wasn't good, but he wasn't evil either.

Carefully, Harry took the potion from his professor and grimaced as the gooey substance oozed its down his throat. It was an unpleasant feeling, but the payoff was good. The pain disappeared instantaneously, leaving behind only a strange tingle.

Harry saw Snape take a deep breath and sigh. “I...apologize for striking you. It was inappropriate.”

Harry gaped at his professor in shock.

He apologized...to me. He can't have apologized to me! He's never said a decent word to me in five years, and now he's saying sorry? That can't be right.

The potions master looked irritated at Harry's lingering stare. Apologies did not come easily for him, he had not made many of those in his life time. He never felt the need or compulsion to do so, nobody had every warrant his apology. There were few people Severus respected enough to have wronged and said sorry to. The only apology Snape issued recently was to Albus Dumbledore and feigned ones to the Dark Lord. Never in his life had he imagined he would be asking to be pardoned by a Potter. As far as he was concerned, the entire Potter family should issue him a formal apology for the years of abuse he's suffered in James Potter's hands.

Severus Snape; nasty, sarcastic greasy git never apologized to anybody, and now he's just apologized to Harry Potter of all people. Hell must be in the midst of a ice storm right now.

“Yes, shocking, I know. Don't get use to it, you are only a handful of people I have apologized to,”

Severus growled. “And I will not do so again!”

Harry bit his lip, what should he say? Apology accepted? It's alright? You are forgiven...Merlin that sounds lame.

“It's okay,” he mumbled in a barely audible whisper.

“No, it is not.” Severus said shaking his head. “I need to clean that,” he commented as he summoned a wet cloth.

Harry pushed back into the chair nervously.

“For heaven's sake, I am not going to hurt you.” Severus said impatiently.

Harry dared to glare at his professor. Yeah right, the doubtful boy thought to himself.

“...again,” Severus added upon seeing the dubious look on Harry's face.

“I can do it myself,” Harry mumbled, unwilling to let Snape near him.

“No you can't. Now hold still,” said Severus. He knelt in front of Harry, grabbed his chin and pressed the cloth against the blood, wiping it away. Harry frowned and tried to pull back, but his professor held him still. “Do cease your confounded fidgeting, ” he barked, and Harry finally relented, letting Severus finish cleansing the cut, and putting on the salve.

“The bruises should fade by morning and there should be no trace of the cut by tomorrow afternoon. Come and see me if they are not gone by then.” Severus said, standing up and placing rest of the salve on his desk.

He turned back to Harry, “We need to talk,” he said grimly.

Harry's heart immediately sped up and he gulped visibly - talk. That did not sound good. What was Snape going to do? He wouldn't expel him, would he? Harry would do anything not to be expelled. To be expelled mean he would never see Hogwarts again; to be expelled meant he would have to go back to the Durlseys; to be expelled meant he would never finish his magical education, which meant a snapped wand, which meant he would never again be able to do magic! And if he could not do magic, what place would there be for him in the Wizarding world?

Harry watched as the Potions Master moved to the other side of the desk and sat down. He watched as the professor sighed deeply and pinched his nose while shaking his head. The tension in the air was so thick he could cut it with a cotton swab, Harry just couldn't take it. He would beg before he let Snape expel him.

“I'm sorry!” Harry cried frantic all of a sudden, “I'm sorry, I...I shouldn't have said that...those things. I shouldn't have yelled at you, disrespect you like that. I'm sorry...I'll do anything...really, please. OH, please, please don't expel me. I promise I'll be good from now on. I promise...respect. I will show you respect, really, I will. And I'll learn Occulmency, I'll try, I'll practice every night.”

Severus looked stunned as Harry apologized profusely, begging him not to resort to expulsion. The professor put a sneer on his face.

Potter seemed sorry enough. Ha, only because he is afraid I would expel him. The show of remorse and penitence is clearly an attempt to manipulate me into exploring other options. Potter cannot feel regret, nor guilt for his actions or words, he merely wanted to avoid punishment. Well, do I have something to say about that!

The truth was it would take much more to get yourself expelled than arguing with a professor, and the privilege of issuing an expulsion rested in the headmaster's hands alone.

Dumbledore would never expel his Golden Boy, just like he refused to expel Sirius Black or Remus Lupin, even when the dogs nearly killed him. Severus thought bitterly.

Young Harry, however, seemed convinced that his professor could and would drive him out of the school. Severus was not about to let an advantage like that slip.

“You can deduct every point from Gryffindor. I...I'll do anything!” Harry continued, barely pausing between his jumbled words. “I'll...I'll spend detention with you...everyday....till the day I graduate, please!”

“Mr. Potter,” Severus interrupted. “What makes you think I would want to spend detention with you till you graduate?”

“I...I'm sorry,” Harry said desperately. “I didn't mean it, really. I...I should not have said what I did.”

“Then why did you?” Severus commented in a chipped tone.

“I...” Harry hung his head. “Well...I.”

“Yes, Mr. Potter? I am waiting,” Severus said acidly. “Tell me why, give me one good reason why I should not send you packing your bags tonight.”

Harry swallowed. Well, it was all or nothing. What had he to lose anyway? His dignity?

Harry had no excuse to call Severus that horrid name, but he had a very good explanation. Under such provocation, who wouldn't snap? It was really the comment about his father that made Harry erupt. Most of the time Harry could handle Snape's fierce and bitting insults about his incompetence and as Snape had put it, “lack of a developed cerebral cortex.” But he could not stand it when Snape insulted his father. That last comment Snape made, however, reminded him of an incident nearly two years back, the incident that should have had severe ramifications, had he not been the Boy -Who-Lived and target of Azkaban escapee, Sirius Black.

Flashback

The Dursleys and Harry were sitting all around the dining table, the evening was turning out better than expected. The three adults chatted about work, Dudley, current events and left Harry alone all through dinner. But with Harry sitting right there in plain sight, something has ought to come up, and it did.

“This Potter, you never told me, what he did?” asked Aunt Marge.

“He – didn't work” said Uncle Vernon with clear disapproval,“couldn't hold a job...unemployed most of his life.”

”As I expected!” said Aunt Marge, stuffing a bite of lemon meringue pie into her mouth. “And a drunk, you say? Tsk tsk, nothing to be done about people like that except to lock them up somewhere secure, where they won't be able to taint the good in society. That one' s better dead, I'm telling you.”

Harry tried to ignore the cruel comments, he tried to focus on Quidditch instead, but there was no escaping Aunt Marge's vocal insults.

“So the boy goes to St. Brutus's?. Ah, not surprising, not surprising at all. There is nothing you can do, brother. If there's something rotten on the inside, there's nothing anyone can do about it.” She said, shaking her head. “I don't know why you kept the boy, would have hauled him off to the orphanage if it were me. Surely, you knew how much trouble the boy would bring, with a father like Potter and all.”

“Yes, well” Aunt Petunia commented “The boy's just like his father; a no-account, good-for-nothing lazy scrounger...”

“He was not,” Harry said suddenly – his pent up anger nearly vibrating the table.

“Be quiet, boy! The adults are talking,” Aunt Marge yelled, and turned back to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. “Now, you're right of course, Petunia. You mustn't blame yourselves for they way the boy's turned out. It has all to do with blood, bad blood. Actually, it has nothing to do with the father, it's more to do with the mother.” She took a mouthful of brandy to go with the meat and continued, “They say it all the time with dogs, if there is something wrong with the bitch, then there's something wrong with the pup.”

Harry's anger exploded, the entire kitchen shook and trembled like an earthquake that would have registered a 5 on the Richter Scale. Aunt Marge had started to swell like an inflated balloon. She swelled, and swelled, and swelled until she became so round and buoyant her body started to float.

As if she was filled with helium, Aunt Marge drifted upwards towards the ceiling, then out the window towards the moonlit sky.

The sounds of her terrified scream, Petunia's frantic screech and Vernon's low bellows faded into the night.

End Flashback.

All Harry could think of was what horrid names the Dursleys called his parents, and how Snape was doing the same thing, and that was what made him blow.

“I was angry, okay!” Harry yelled, mad all over again, and it all went downhill from there.

To be continued...

** Flashback scene is a combination of quotes and paraphrasing from Prisoner of Azkaban book (p. 26-27 British) and movie. No copyright infringement or plagiarizing intended. **