Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, September 1996 (01)

Perched on the window sill next to Neville's bed, Harry looked about, cheered to see the other four beds made up and awaiting their owners. The dorm would soon be a madhouse, but he was looking forward to it, especially after the last few tension-filled days at the Hog's Head. Turning to take in the view of Hogwarts' grounds, he mulled over the change in Snape's behavior and what Dumbledore might have done to spark it.

"Potter?"

Harry jumped then hissed as he inadvertently cracked his elbow against the window.

"Perhaps we should have worked harder on those pitiful sensory skills of yours."

Days before Harry would have smiled at the gentle dig, even served up a snarky retort; now he simply clenched his jaw, and tried to ignore the echoing pain in his elbow as well as the tone of concern coloring Snape's voice.

"Potter?"

"I don't feel like talking to you, in case you hadn't noticed." Harry gazed determinedly out the window.

"Yes... your petulant attitude is woefully apparent."

Harry rolled his eyes, thinking the man had a lot of nerve. After fetching him from Dumbledore's office Snape had avoided Harry as keenly as vampires avoided daylight. For his part, Harry had done his best to honor the man's earlier request to make himself scarce until they returned to the castle. Aberforth had baldly, and rather colorfully, expressed how ridiculous he thought they were acting and had attempted to get them to at least take their meals together; both had stubbornly refused.

"What do you want?"

Ignoring Harry's cold tone, Snape crossed the room, stopping when he reached the foot of Neville's bed. "I came to see if you'd settled in."

"I'm not a first-year. I know how all this works."

"Of course, but, I'm also here at the headmaster's request."

Harry whipped around to face the man, his face screwed up in contempt. "So now you're back to being his little errand boy?"

"I didn't come here to argue with you, nor did I come to be insulted," Snape said, cultivating a bland expression.

"I really don't care why you came - unless it's to tell me what he said the other night -"

"Let it lay, Potter! It's none of your concern!"

"Stop saying that!" Harry yelled. "And stop calling me, Potter! I hate it when you call me that! My name is Harry! HARRY!"

To emphasize his point, he leaped down from the window sill and raised his hands, palms out. In an instant the beds' curtains began to flutter ominously and the dorm's atmosphere darkened, mimicking the approaching dusk outside. When Neville's nightstand began to shake and shimmy, Snape growled and lunged forward to grab Harry's wrists.

"Stop this, right NOW!"

"Make me!" Harry yelled, struggling against the man. "Go on, I dare you!"

"Were I to make you do anything, Potter, it would be nothing as childish as a game of dare." Snape's eyes had narrowed to hair-raising slits and his face was hard in a way Harry hadn't seen in a long time. "Now, while your deplorable behavior is nothing short of surprising, I had hoped that over the summer you would have learned that maturity is not a specifically reserved trait for those above the age of twelve!"

Harry's upper lip twitched into a sneer as he wrenched free from Snape. "I don't care!"

"Clearly..." Snape countered with his own far superior sneer. "So now your intellect is limited to what?" he said. "Quidditch? Rule breaking? Bopping about mindlessly until you fall into the Dark Lord's hands?"

Harry chuckled darkly. "No, that's your game, you -"

"You had better think long and hard before completing that sentence," Snape said, his voice low and quite scary.

Harry swallowed, leery of the man's anger, but his own combustive anger at being shut out from whatever had gone on between Snape and Dumbledore was too fresh, too sharp to ignore, thus instead of apologizing to the man, Harry coldly turned his back on him.

Snape inhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why do you persist in being an utter thorn in the side of all who care about you?" he said quietly.

Harry glanced back, disbelieving. "Remind me to ask someone who cares."

There was a loud click as Snape swallowed. "Of course," he said. "Well, then... I'll leave you to finish getting settled."

He turned and stalked towards the door, but Harry hadn't missed the blink of hurt in those dark eyes. Suddenly, he didn't want the man to go.

"Right," he said, louder than necessary. Snape stiffened, but didn't break stride. Once he reached the door he pulled it open and stepped out of the room. For long seconds Harry stood deathly still, watching. He took a shuffling step forward, but Snape did not reenter the room.

"Fine," Harry muttered angrily. He turned and stiffly approached the window, resuming his post.

Against the backdrop of the waning sun, Thestrals had taken flight. They were circling the Forbidden Forest, no doubt preparing to transport the students from Hogsmeade station to the castle. Harry watched them - black, winged, horse-like beasts, soaring in a sinuous pattern sensible only to them. He knew their mythology, that they were only visible to those who had seen death; Hagrid had told him. While racing about on his Firebolt one afternoon, he had nearly fallen off it after spotting a herd of them at the edge of the forest, tearing into a half-eaten carcass as the half-giant watched.

Harry also knew that they were harmless, but the sight of them filled him with a deepening dread - with the painful certainty that he was bearing witness to another death. With each passing second the dread doubled, then tripled. How could this be happening? Harry wondered as his palms and brow grew slick with perspiration. Everything was fine. We were fine! I just... I don't understand! His breaths shortened to panicked little hitches, making him feel as if he was being held under water. The feeling was so suffocating, so all encompassing, that the hurt and anger of moments ago faded to a pinpoint in his mind's eye as he willed Snape to come back and say something - anything - so that he could, too.

The door was still open. He hadn't heard departing footfalls on the stairs. Maybe...

Then the Thestrals began their journey east toward the village, melding seamlessly into the encroaching dark. As Harry's eyes shifted to watch them, he spotted a pale oval reflected in the window. He stared at it, breathless, waiting for the figure to move closer. It didn't. It slowly moved out of sight and the door shut with a quiet click.

Harry inhaled a loud, gulping breath and closed his eyes.

*WO

Outside the entrance to the Great Hall, Harry shuffled back and forth scanning the crowd as students brushed past, some saying ‘hi', others glancing at him in a wary fashion. He acknowledged the greetings with a distracted nod, while dismissing the snide glances and gossipy chatter.

"Hey Harry!" Neville Longbottom waved at him from behind a band of tall Hufflepuffs.

"Hi Neville," said Harry with a genuine smile for the shy boy once he bobbed into view again.

Puffing heavily, Neville made his way over to stand next to Harry. "How was your summer?" he asked.

Just as Harry opened his mouth to respond, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Luna Lovegood emerged from the crowd.

"Harry! I hope you haven't been waiting long! It was absolute murder trying to gather all the first-years together for McGonagall! We've only just got away!" Hermione spoke in a rush then crushed him in a quick hug before turning to do the same to Neville, who flushed brightly.

"Oy! Watch yourself!" Ron bellowed, startling a second-year Ravenclaw girl who had stumbled into him.

"Ronald, you could be a bit nicer," said Luna. "A bad aura invites bundimuns. My mother once told me they're very difficult to get rid of without bits of Basilisk skin."

"Yeah, well, it just so happens I know where to find some," said Ron, looking about, distracted.

"Hey Luna," said Harry, noting that though her waist-length hair was pulled up in a loose bun and held in place by her wand, her ears were bare of her signature radish earrings, giving her a dispirited look. It didn't help that she looked a bit paler than normal.

"Hullo, Harry." Luna wrapped her arms around him. "Nothing found is ever lost." She whispered into his ear.

"Er... What?" Harry eyed her confusedly as she pulled away.

"You look as though you've lost something... but the things we need are always close by." She turned, her large blue eyes skipping about the crowded corridor as she hummed softly.

Even more confused, Harry followed her movements. He gave a start when her gaze stopped on Snape who was speaking to a Slytherin prefect. Snape inadvertently caught his eye, then quickly looked away, but Luna further rattled Harry by saying, "Professor Snape looks lovely, doesn't he?"

Despite his glum mood, Harry had to choke back a laugh at her choice of words. Lovely? Being in the man's company every day over the summer Harry had grown used to Snape's appearance and he hadn't charted any noticeable physical changes, other than the man's improvements after his stint in the hospital wing. Looking at him now, though, Harry had to admit Luna had a point: Snape was still thin, but compared to his state back in June, the man now looked positively robust. Harry recalled that even Aberforth had commented on it.

"Son, your robes are fitting rather snug these days..." Aberforth had said, regarding Snape thoughtfully over his copy of the Quibbler. Snape had scowled and shifted to a more comfortable position, tugging at his robes. Aberforth had uttered a rusty chuckle. "It's hardly a criticism, Severus. You look... content."

"It's because of the boy!" Snape complained, his eyes darting over to Harry who was on the floor using Fang as a pillow. Aberforth chuckled again. "I mean to say," Snape said quickly, "you've seen how much he eats - what he eats. It's always something slathered in grease, followed up with some coma-inducing dessert topped off with so much sugar -"

"Hey! You're the one who loads my plate up like I haven't eaten in a month!" Harry put in accusingly. "And, you like chips, bacon and fried eggs just as much as I do! AND the dozen fairy cakes Hermione sent along that time? I ate two - you polished off five before Fang's begging started to annoy you!"

Aberforth had laughed out loud while Snape had growled and made a business of snapping the Prophet open to either read or hide behind.

"We'd better get inside," said Ginny, shaking Harry out of his reverie. Hermione was eyeing him speculatively, having followed his and Luna's actions. She grabbed his arm when he moved to follow the others.

"Harry, Percy told us about the attack, but he said he didn't have all the details. What happened?"

"Later," Harry said, snagging her hand to usher her inside when she opened her mouth to continue on topic.

As they neared the Gryffindor table, a familiar voice scolding a pair of rowdy Gryffindor third-years rose above the din.

"Charlie!" Ron called. "What are you doin' here?"

"Hey!" Charlie turned to join Ron and his friends, smiling broadly, accentuating the friendly wrinkles around his light brown eyes. Though Ron had a bit of an advantage in height over Charlie, he still looked small next to his stout, solidly built brother who was older and happened to wrangle dragons for a living.

"Dumbledore stopped by the Burrow late last night while everyone was in bed," Charlie said, "asked me about teachin' Hagrid's classes ‘til he gets back." He grinned at Harry and Hermione. "Harry," he said clapping the boy on the shoulder. "S'good to see you."

"Hagrid's all right, isn't he?" Harry said, worried.

"Yeah, yeah." Charlie waved a broad, freckled hand dismissively. "Things just takin' a bit longer than planned, it seems..." They all looked around at the sound of someone calling Charlie's name; McGonagall was motioning for him to join her. "I got to get up to the High Table. Give us a cuddle before I go, Ronniekins..." Ron scowled and swatted at Charlie's outstretched arms. Charlie laughed and gave his brother a sharp pat on the cheek. "I'll see you lot later!" Charlie called as he jogged away.

Once everyone was seated and the Sorting done, Dumbledore stood to give the term announcements and Welcoming speech. Harry listened with half an ear, his attention focused elsewhere; he couldn't help stealing glances at Snape who looked to be listening raptly to Dumbledore.

"Harry," Hermione said, her eyes roving back and forth between him and Snape.

"Hmm?" He tore his gaze from Snape to look back at her.

"Something's wrong between you and the professor... isn't it?" she whispered.

Harry stiffened, uneasy. He had no idea what to tell her; he didn't understand it himself.

"It's nothing," he said, casting another glance up at the man.

"If it's nothing, why do you look like someone just stole your broom?" She jiggled his arm. "...Harry?"

He wasn't listening to anything Dumbledore was saying anyway, so he shifted around to whisper: "We stayed at the Hog's Head after the attack."

"The Hog's Head? Why?"

"Snape and Mr. Dumbledore - er, Ab -"

"Dumbledore!" Hermione fairly yelled. She clapped her hands over her mouth, looked around, then quickly slunk down in her seat as every eye in the Hall turned their way.

"Miss Granger?" said the headmaster genially. "Something to add?"

Hermione shook her head fiercely.

"Hermione?" Ron said from across the table. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," she said, then sat up, ramrod straight clasping her hands in her lap and giving Dumbledore her full attention.

*WO

The Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts September 1996

"So, the bloke runnin' the Hog's Head is Dumbledore's brother?" Ron asked. Harry nodded. "Bit of a nutjob, isn't he?" said Ron, stretching his legs out to cross his ankles. He then folded his arms behind his head, accidentally elbowing Hermione in the ear.

"Ron!"

"Sorry."

"He's not a nutjob," Harry said.

"He and Snape are friends?" Hermione asked.

"More than that. Snape's known him since his third-year. He seems to respect him a lot."

"So, how was it, staying there?" Hermione asked.

"Fine ‘til Dumbledore called Snape to his office," Harry replied with a sigh.

"Which Dumb-a-dore?" Ron said, yawning. Hermione shot him an annoyed glance; the redhead looked back innocently.

"Why wouldn't Snape tell you what happened?" Hermione asked, turning back to Harry.

"I don't know." Harry raked his fingers through his hair. "But, he was different when he came back."

"You think Dumbledore took away his hair grease? ‘Cause his head looks a sight better -"

"Oh, Ron, do shut up!" Hermione hissed.

Ron shrugged and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I just don't see what the big deal is."

"Regardless of what Dumbledore might have said, Snape was right to be angry, Harry," said Hermione, ignoring Ron. "Someone could have..." She frowned. "You shouldn't have come up to the castle on your own like that."

"I wouldn't have if he hadn't been acting so out of it! I mean, it was just so weird! One minute he's fine - we're fine - and the next..."

Ron yawned loudly as he unfolded his long frame from the sofa and twisted his torso to the left and right, grunting. "Well, I'm off."

"You said a mouthful, there." Hermione muttered.

"I heard that," Ron said and yawned again. His tired blue eyes shuffled between his friends sitting closely together. With a curious smirk he asked Harry, "You comin'?"

Harry nodded without looking up. "In a bit."

After raising a hand at them, Ron lumbered up the stairs. Harry and Hermione continued to talk, their voices low. Two hours later, Hermione peered around the common room to discover they were the only ones left; Harry followed her gaze.

"I reckon we should go to bed," he said. Hermione blushed, a smile playing at her lips. "You know what I mean." Harry muttered, blushing as well.

Hermione elbowed him gently, laughing. "I know... I've got Ancient Runes, first thing..."

After a moment of shyly studying one another, she cleared her throat and stood up; Harry stood too, so close her nose was warmed by his soft exhalations. On impulse, and with his heart pounding, he reached out to tuck a stray bit of hair behind her ear. When she smiled softly, he lowered a finger to gently stroke her cheek, his hand wavering slightly. Heady seconds passed before they began to lean in toward one another. Neither seemed willing to close their eyes as their bodies and parted lips swayed closer. Just as Hermione lifted her hand to rest on Harry's chest, the portrait slammed closed and they sprang apart.

A rumpled seventh-year staggered toward the boys' dorms without uttering a sound; not even when his shins cracked painfully into a heavy side table; the sharp stench of Firewhiskey trailed the boy.

"We should get going," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah..." Harry said with disappointed sigh. "...See you at breakfast?"

"Of course." Hermione stared after him as he ascended the stairs. "Goodnight, Harry." She whispered.

*WO

An hour later, unable to sleep, Harry rooted about for the socks he'd toed off after settling under the covers. Once he found them, he rolled out of bed, making his mattress to squeak.

"Y' all righ'?" said Ron, his voice husky with sleep.

"Yeah, go back to sleep." Harry pulled on his socks and glasses.

"Where y' goin'?"

"Common room."

"'Kay. Wan' s' comp -"

Harry, leaning over to grab a blanket off his bed, looked up when Ron stopped speaking. The redhead lay fast asleep, mouth agape, snores growing louder by the second. Harry grinned and shook his head before heading downstairs.

He stretched out on the sofa nearest the fireplace and tossed the blanket over his legs. The golden-red flames within the hearth flickered gaily, but lacked warmth. Harry shivered and pulled the blanket up to his neck. Observing the ratty rug bundled in front of the fireplace, he realized he was missing Fang's bulky shape. He sighed heavily, lamenting tranquil evenings spent before the fire at Soth-ince.

"Harry?"

He lifted his head to look around. "Hermione? What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," she said, annoyed.

Harry sat up and hitched an eyebrow at her. She had on a pair of thick brown socks he remembered her knitting while at Grimmauld Place last Christmas, and a long red T-shirt with a large, grinning mouthful of sparkling Lockhart-like teeth emblazoned on the front, the legend ‘Granger & Granger Dentistry' below them.

"Did you try counting those teeth?" He nodded at her shirt.

Hermione crinkled up her nose. "It must hurt that with all your natural gifts, comedy isn't one of them," she said snootily. "Budge over."

"Y' know, bitterness doesn't become you." Harry smiled as he held up the blanket. Hermione sat close to him and tucked her legs in tight against his.

"Neither do wire-rimmed glasses, but I don't mention it to you, do I?" she replied. Harry growled and snatched the blanket off her legs. She squeaked and grabbed it back. After a bit of playful tussling, they settled down to share it.

"You really were okay with him, weren't you?" Hermione said after a silent moment.

"W-What?" Harry stuttered, too busy reveling in the soft, but deliberate pressure of her knee against his thigh.

"Snape," she said. "Things were good with him this summer?"

"Oh... Yeah, they were."

"What's he like, really?"

Harry huffed softly, managing a half-smile. "Brilliant, sarcastic... demanding. But when we weren't training, he was different - mellow, regular-like. I mean, he pretty much let me do whatever I wanted... I even picked our meals - except for my birthday." Harry laughed. "He did that one, which was nice..."

He glanced over to find Hermione's eyes bright with moisture. He looked down, suddenly self-conscious.

"Don't get me wrong, the beginning was hard ‘cause of... y' know, everything, but we managed, or I should say, he managed. I was a bit of a twit there at first, but... he just let me be me - if that makes sense."

Hermione nodded. "At the festival, I talked to him in the restaurant."

"Yeah, he said that you asked to send an owl."

"But, that wasn't all... I told him that you admired him... the way you had admired Sirius."

Harry gaped at her, mortified. "You told him that?"

"Oh, Harry, it was so obvious! Even listening to you now, it's obvious. I told him that his feelings for you were equally obvious. He was gobsmacked, like it was the last thing he expected to hear... but he didn't deny it."

Harry shook his head in disbelief at the girl's nerve, yet like Snape, he couldn't deny his feelings either.

"From what you say and from what I've seen, he dotes on you, terribly, Harry. At Fred and George's, he was so worried. When he was holding you, and stroking your hair, you - you just looked so at home in his arms."

Harry looked away, his throat threatening to close up. "Don't," he said hoarsely. "I can't hear that right now."

"Of course," Hermione whispered, "I'm sorry..."

After sitting quietly for a several minutes, Harry bit back a gasp of surprise when Hermione took his right hand in hers. He cheered inwardly, thrilled at the chance to pick up from where things had ended earlier. Soft as a whisper, she caressed the top of his hand, tracing the scars there. Mesmerized, he watched the slow, gentle motion of her fingers for a moment before looking up at her. Her eyes were trained on his hand, lost in her thoughts. A strange knot formed in his stomach as he watched her.

They had been friends since the age of eleven. What was different now, Harry wondered? He had never thought her unattractive, but he had never considered anything beyond friendship, either. After all, he had spilled his guts to her about Cho Chang! Still, something had changed. He considered what as he took his time to slowly outline the contours of her face and the visual softness of her skin and how it shone in the reflective light of the fire. His green eyes gently traced every dip, swell and tender angle, loosely framed by that notorious brown, bushy hair which called attention to the earthen tones of her skin. Enraptured by the delightful fullness of her mouth, he blinked when her lips moved.

"What?" He mumbled stupidly, realizing she had been speaking.

"I said, Professor Snape is not the only one that cares about you," Hermione repeated, her tone, determined. Harry felt the knot in his stomach dissolving, to be replaced by a sweet fluttering feeling as their eyes connected.

"Hermione, I..." He was shocked into silence when she darted forward to press her lips to his. His astonishment quickly melted into disappointment as she pulled away only seconds after the kiss began.

"I'm sorry!" She cried, jumping to her feet, getting tangled up in the blanket in the process.

"What! Why?" Bewildered, Harry fumbled to grab her hands to steady her before she could crash into the table.

"I - I shouldn't have done that! I don't know what I was thinking..." She began to worry her bottom lip with her teeth and her eyes filled with tears.

"Hermione, don't." Harry gently tugged on her hands until she joined him back on the sofa. "Why are you sorry?"

"I... I feel like I'm, I'm taking advantage of your emotional state!" She shook her head, sending her bushy strands flailing about wildly.

Harry snorted with laughter. "Right... Look, if I didn't want you kissing me, I'd have banished you to your room or something." He tilted his head smugly, and used a finger to push his glasses up. "I'm a powerful wizard you know."

Hermione laughed softly then ran the back of her hand beneath her eyes to clear away the tears. "It's just that, we're friends, Harry, best friends. I really don't want to mess that up."

"Me neither, but," Harry said, hoping that she was not about to send him spiraling into a painful fall of rejection. "I'd rather be with my best friend than a stranger..."

"Well, lucky for you, Ron is single," Hermione said then pulled a face. "Though you might have a bit of competition since his new favorite pastime is lusting after Lavender Brown... Still, though, if you hurry..."

Harry regarded her admiringly. "What's got into you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're different. I noticed it at the festival."

She regarded him solemnly for a brief moment then squeezed his hand, as if for strength.

"I would think we're all a bit changed - you, me, Ron, Ginny, Neville... Luna. We've come close to dying quite a few times, but that night at the Ministry... I was terrified - terrified for you and everyone else, terrified I'd never see my parents again.

"From the moment I received my Hogwarts letter, I let magic come between me and my parents. I was so thrilled to be a part of the wizarding world I let it consume me. They let me be to find my way, which was great - for me, of course - but during the battle, the thought of never seeing them again was unbearable because that distance was still there. Yes, my mum did drive me spare this summer, but the thought of being without her and my dad, without my friends -" She shuddered.

Identifying with her feelings, Harry put an arm around her shoulders. When she leaned into him, he said softly, "Your parents seem pretty intent on keeping you safe - same here..." Swallowing his nerves, he said, "Hermione, I've thought about this a lot." He lightly touched a fingertip to her mouth. "Ever since the festival."

Hermione flushed. "I doubt it's all you thought about, not with Snape -" When Harry tensed she slapped a hand to her forehead and groaned. "Sorry... I keep putting my foot in it!"

Harry sighed. "It's all right."

"No, Harry, it isn't."

"No." Harry agreed. "But what can I do about it? He won't tell me anything!"

"What did Mr. Dumbledore have to say about it?"

"Give Snape time to sort it out." He threw his head against the back of the sofa to stare unseeingly at the vaulted ceiling.

"He knows why they rowed?"

"Probably, but it's not as though I can ask him. They're really close. I can't see him betraying Snape's confidence."

"Well then, maybe you should do as he says... let Snape sort it out himself."

"Could you?" Harry frowned, pinning her with his eyes. Hermione shrugged half-heartedly then shook her head. "Besides, how can I when he's treating me like... like he did before?" Harry stood and began to pace. "And, Dumbledore, I wish you could've seen the look on his face when I got angry at Snape. He looked - pleased or glad or... something!"

"Honestly, Harry, Dumbledore, glad that you and Snape are rowing? He asked the man to look after you!"

"Yeah, but he wasn't happy with Snape when we left."

"Oh?"

"He wanted a say in where we went. Snape refused. He also refused to tell Dumbledore where we were going."

"That's why you chose him over Dumbledore? To spite the headmaster?"

"'Course not! Snape asked me what I wanted. Dumbledore just assumed I'd go along with whatever he had planned -but I couldn't. He'd deceived me about my magic, kept the contents of the prophecy from me..."

"Oh, Harry, it can't be easy heading up the Order, having to make decisions like that. He must have had a good reason."

Harry snorted his disapproval.

"Besides," she said. "Have you considered that whatever it is between them might not have anything to do with you? Snape and Dumbledore have a long history..."

Harry stopped pacing and rubbed his eyes, considering. There might be a case to be had there, but he couldn't fathom any reason why Snape would so suddenly and utterly destroy the peace between them - especially after all they had gone through to get there.

"I s'pose," he said, "but Dumbledore's manipulated nearly every aspect of my life since before I can even remember. Strange as it is, Snape has been the only one to be honest with me. Snape! I never imagined I'd trust him more than Dumbledore..."

"Okay, then, why not try a different tack?"

"For what?"

"To fix this thing with Snape, of course!"

"Hermione, he doesn't want anything to do with me!"

"Just listen! Ask him about your training. You said you two hadn't fully worked out the details. Ask him about it. It's a much more neutral subject than discussing your relationship or trying to find out what Dumbledore said to him."

Harry thought that a brilliant idea.

*WO

Dungeons, Hogwarts, September 1996

Despite having hardly slept a wink, Harry rose at the crack of dawn on Monday to check the Marauder's map. He was determined to speak to Snape before breakfast. He caught up to the man just as he was about to enter his classroom.

"Professor!"

Snape turned, growling in aggravation. "What do you want, Potter?"

At that moment, Hermione's ‘brilliant' idea seemed as ill-conceived as confronting a Chinese Fireball guarding her egg. When Harry failed to answer straight away, Snape snapped, "Well? Speak or be gone!"

"I'd like a word, sir, if - if you've a moment," Harry said, overcome with relief that his voice hadn't wavered, though it was pitched a bit higher than normal.

When Snape let himself into his classroom, Harry followed thinking it a good sign the man had not instantly sent him on his way.

"Make it quick, Potter. I have rather important things to attend to."

"Right, I just uh, I just wanted to be clear about my training. We talked about it at the Hog's Head, but we never decided exactly how we were going to do it..."

Snape walked to his desk and stowed his satchel. With his back to Harry, he picked up a random stack of parchments and began tapping them against the desk's hard surface repeatedly; it sounded like the dread ticking of a clock.

"I intended to broach this with you yesterday in your dorm," he said hesitantly. "While you do have a rather capable grasp of your magic now, the headmaster agrees that you need to carry on training. I - I'll catch him up on your progress and you and he can proceed from there."

"What!?" Harry squawked. "You're going to let him train me? After I told you I don't trust him? And as I recall, you don't either!"

"Potter, there is more at stake than my concerns," Snape said, in a measured tone that grated on Harry's nerves.

"So, what about mine?! Doesn't what I think count for anything?" Harry thrust his fists down alongside his body, desperate to hit something, namely Snape.

"Potter -"

"So, you're just going to give me over to him? Without a fight?"

"Potter! You're not mine to give away! You're not chattel! You don't belong to any -"

"Yeah, no one has any claim to me! I remember..." Harry spat, disgusted the man hadn't the decency to face him as he cast him aside like rubbish. "I trusted you. I told Hermione that I trusted you more than Dumbledore because you've always told me the truth!"

"Well, I'm sorry to have shattered your illusion," Snape said, his voice taut as a tightly drawn violin string. "You of all people should know that life is imperfect, that people are imperfect, that they lie, they disappoint."

"I know that! But you're different! You're supposed to be different!" Harry swallowed. "And you didn't shatter any illusion, not really. I just wish I knew why you're so miserable... I wish I could... All I want is to help."

"Potter, I don't need your help. Now get out!"

"No! I want to know why you're acting like this! Like you want me to hate you!" Harry's erratic breathing was the only sound in the cavernous room. "Do you want me to hate you?!" His voice shook; Snape remained still and silent, stone-like.

"Right, then..." Harry managed. "You win. You want me to hate you? I hate you! Okay? I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

He fled as his voice cracked, threatening a sob. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, he spun to pound his fists against it. Distorted by his tears, the thick, embellished oak wavered before him, making the magical beasts carved into the wood seem to come alive. Then just as he pulled back to throw himself against the door, something shattered against it from the other side. Startled, Harry cocked his head to listen. Hearing nothing, he stepped forward to grip the door's knob, prepared to go back in, but another crash drove him back. That crash was followed by a raw, hoarse scream that chilled him utterly.

*WO

For Harry, the week passed in a slow, aggravating haze of being ignored. Snape addressed him class, but he pointedly avoided eye contact with the boy at all times. One morning, Ron opened his mouth to comment on it, but noting Harry's crestfallen expression, Hermione stopped him with a cold glare. When feeling particularly spiteful about the situation, Harry did what he could - good and bad - to attract the man's attention, but Snape would not be baited.

To top off the hellish week, at day's end on Friday, Harry was trudging through the Entrance Hall on his way to Gryffindor Tower when Argus Filch oozed out of the shadows, his foul cat draped about his neck like some bedraggled, breathing stole. He accused Harry of releasing a Fanged Frisbee outside his office. Harry denied it as he had only moments before entered the castle after leaving one of the greenhouses; Professor Sprout had instructed him to replant the Alihotsy he had knocked over due to inattentiveness. That Harry was covered in dirt didn't seem to faze Filch in the least as he proceeded to verbally assault the boy. Already in an evil mood and now angry at being wrongly accused, Harry mouthed off to the hunchbacked caretaker. And as bad luck would have it, Snape happened upon them just as Harry was unloading some particularly crass suggestions of what Filch could do to himself.

Minutes later, Harry stormed past the Fat Lady and punted his book bag across the common room with a fierce kick. Dean Thomas, seated in a chair by the window playing wizard's chess with Ron, was the unintended target as it came to rest on his foot.

"S'eatin' you?" he said, not even looking up from the board.

"Snape!" Harry snarled and stomped over to where the boys were playing.

"What's he done now?" Ron asked, tapping one of his pawns on the head and pointing to a square. The pawn angrily scooted over, knowing it was about to be booted by Dean's bishop.

"Gave me detention for talking back to bloody Filch!" Harry raged. "He didn't even ask why!"

"He got on to you for sassin' Filch?" said Ron, squinting as Dean's bishop kicked his pawn off the board. "That's a switch. He's not had a cross word for you all week, even though you've acted a total lunatic in class. Not that I'm complaining..." he quickly interjected, "s'good to have you back in your right mind."

"‘Right mind?'" Harry said.

"Yeah, remembering that Snape is a lying, sneaky, slimy git of a Slytherin."

"He's no liar."

"But he is sneaky, slimy, a git, and a Slytherin."

"Ron, just lay off him!"

Ron swiveled his head around to face Harry, astonished.

"Why? You used to think the same things about him, if not worse!"

"Yeah, but I was wrong! I can at least admit it - unlike some people..."

"Hey!" Ron growled. "Don't bring up rubbish from fourth year! You know I felt bad about that!"

"You never said it!" Harry shot back. "Just pretended like it never happened! Well I can't pretend that Snape and I didn't get along, that I don't care about him!"

"Blimey, so you care about him?" Ron looked about the common room in mock fear. "Somebody get hold of St. Mungo's mental ward! The wizarding world's savior's gone round the twist!"

"S' not funny, Ron," said Neville, eyeing the redhead warily from his spot on one of the sofas.

Ron squinched his eyes shut and knocked a fist against his forehead. "Neville... I didn't mean -"

"Yeah, you never mean anything that comes out of your mouth, do you?" Harry spat. "No matter how idiotic..."

"Look here, Harry -"

"No Ron, ‘til you get to know Snape the way I have, you'd best keep your opinions about him to yourself when I'm around!"

Ron clenched his jaw, and his ears reddened explosively. "Right, but first, answer me this," he said, his voice volcanic with fury. "Why're you so arsed at him right now that you'd dare vent about him round me, eh? Why not go to Hermione, to someone who eats up the idea of you and him getting on?"

With no ready defense, Harry swallowed, and lowered his eyes to the floor. Ron was right. He was beyond angry with Snape, and Ron had simply reacted as he always had when Harry had complained about the man. And hadn't that been what he wanted - needed? To have his feelings of rejection and hurt validated?

"Harry?" Warm, soft fingers encircled his wrist. "Come on."

With his eyes glued to the floor, Harry allowed himself to be led out of the common room and out through the portrait hole. He continued down the stairs, oblivious of the questioning stares, cheerful greetings and various odd looks as he progressed through the castle, but he came alive when he began to feel chilled and the walls began to grow darker. He looked up and jerked back, trying to free his wrist.

"Le'me go, Hermione!"

"Harry, you need to talk to him."

"No, I need to be as far away from him as..." Harry took a jerky breath. "I'll say or do something I'll regret. I know it."

"You won't," Hermione said. "Just... tell him how you feel."

"How I feel?" Harry snorted. "Right now, I hate him! That's how I feel." Then he gulped and lowered his eyes. "Hermione, why - why does he hate me?" he whispered brokenly. "What did I do?"

"Oh, Harry." Hermione sighed softly. "He doesn't, he couldn't possibly -"

"But he does! You have no idea how he was before and how he is now!"

"Yes, I do. Just talk to him! Don't let your pride ruin this for you. That kind of thing is fine between you and Ron, but the longer you don't speak to the professor, the longer you let this go on, I'm afraid you'll lose your chance to make things right!"

"No! I don't need to make things right. I don't need him!"

"God, you two are so much alike -"

"...What?"

"Nothing." Hermione's lips barely moved as she lied.

"Hermione!"

"I just told him that you haven't been eating and Neville says you don't sleep!"

"Why would you do that?" Harry screeched. "And what's Neville know about anything?"

"Harry! He's your friend, and he's worried about you. We all are!"

"He's not!" Harry jerked his head toward Snape's closed classroom door.

"Harry, he's human, he makes mistakes, too! He's probably regretting what he said just as much as you are! You can make this right, I know you can, just... be the bigger person this time!"

"No... He wants things back the way they were, fine, great, GRAND!" Harry shouted at the door.

"What in the -" Snape rounded the corner, his robes billowing ominously. When he saw the two Gryffindors, the scowl lodged on his face faltered. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he stopped short as if someone had flipped a switch. He recovered quickly though.

"What is your business here, Potter?" He snarled.

"Nothing," said Harry, his gaze flinty, challenging. "We were just lea -"

"No, we weren't, Professor." Hermione interjected and stepped forward. "Harry really needs to have a word with you."

"Leave off, Hermione!" Harry growled, his eyes never leaving Snape's.

Snape cocked his head as if curious. "Say what is on your mind, Potter."

"It's nothing that concerns you... sir," Harry replied icily.

"Well, then get back to your common room and stay out of the dungeons." Snape hissed.

"Of course, sir, right away." Unknowingly both wizards had moved closer to each other and were now standing toe to toe, eyeing each other with a palpable disdain.

"Harry! Stop it!" Hermione said. When he didn't respond, she looked up at Snape, her expression both imploring and disbelieving as he loomed over Harry. "Professor!?"

Snape's eye twitched and he stepped back, shrugging his shoulders as if to relieve undue pressure.

"Be on your way, both of you." His expression was arctic. Harry's knees weakened. Ron was right; Snape hadn't changed. Why would he?

"C'mon, Hermione," Harry said, desperate to flee before he embarrassed himself by bursting into tears.

"Don't forget, Potter," Snape called, "detention. Eight o'clock. Do not be late."

*WO

Snape's Quarters, Hogwarts, September 1996 (05)

At 7:51 p.m., Harry arrived at Snape's quarters. Dreading his first detention of the year, he shuffled nervously back and forth then began a staring contest with the door. After a time he glanced at his watch: 7:55 p.m. His nose itched. As he reached to scratch it, he suddenly wondered if Snape had disabled the entrance spell. He exhaled.

"Harry Potter." His voice was barely a whisper. When nothing happened, he tried again, more forcefully. "Harry Potter."

The door remained stubbornly closed. When tears burned at his eyes, he rubbed at them angrily, denying them the chance to fall. He didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction of knowing that having to beg access to the man's quarters bothered him.

7:59 p.m. Dejected, Harry knocked. Snape pulled the door open as if he had been poised there, awaiting the signal. He glanced at the boy's reddened eyes as Harry stalked past, but said nothing. Harry stopped at the entrance to the sitting room, unsure of where to go or what to do.

"In here, Mr. Potter." Snape breezed past Harry into the sitting room. Harry trailed him as Snape took a seat in the chair closest to the fireplace.

"Sit," Snape said.

Harry remained standing. "What's my punishment?"

"Mr. Potter, I instructed you to sit down."

"Just tell me what -"

"I'll not repeat myself! You either do as I say or -"

"Or what? OR WHAT? We're not at Soth-ince anymore, you bastard! I told -"

Snape shot to his feet, white-faced. "HOW DARE YOU! As you said, we are not at Soth-ince anymore. I now see what a mistake it was to allow you to become so common with me!"

"Common? Wha -"

"THAT ENDS NOW! For days you've been acting out of turn and I've not said a word about it, but no more. What you choose to call me outside of my presence is none of my concern, but when you address me, you shall do so respectfully. Any deviation shall result in detention! Is that understood, Potter?"

Snape's bitter emphasis on Harry's name made him feel as though his heart was being pummeled by a world-class boxer. At a sudden loss for words, and air, he could only wobble his head weakly.

"Now, return to your dorm straight away!"

Without a sound, Harry fled the dungeons, a terrible ache in his stomach.