A week had passed by at Hogwarts since the students and staff had returned from winter holidays. For all intensive purposes, it had been the quietest week ever. Peeves had managed to behave and not cause a ruckus for once. The Weasley twins actually hadn't set a prank on anyone yet to celebrate the New Year. No Slytherins picked fights against members of the other three Houses. All was quiet. Though, that was largely because the students were all trying to figure what had gotten into their Potions professor.

"I'm telling you, guys, something strange is going on," a Gryffindor quietly said. The young Gryffindor's eyes then shifted towards the fourth-year who slinked past towards the Fat Lady's portrait. "He hasn't said a word since he got back."

"Likely still in shock about his mother returning," another Gryffindor replied. "I would be."

Harry then slammed the portrait shut behind him. All week he had been forced to listen to every Gryffindor's theory about what was up with him. And every day, it made him angrier. What the hell did they know what he felt about his mum returning? They didn't know anything. They just sat there in the common room and spun their theories like a spider spun a web, trying to make sense of something that didn't make a lick of sense to anyone.

After five minutes of walking down the moving staircases and then down the stairs into the dungeon, Harry walked into the Potions classroom. He was the only one in there, which was the way he wanted it to be. He knew how Hermione and Ron would react if they learned what he had planned before their Potions class that day. Angrily, he moved through the room towards Snape's writing table like a cyclone in a trailer court. He wanted to make the git pay. He honestly didn't know why

Reaching forward, he grabbed one of the spidery-filled handwriting parchments to rip it to shreds. However, the salutation made him stop. His green eyes danced over the three words, freezing his heart instantly. That greasy slick git had written to Harry's mother. How dare Snape write his mother! Oh, Harry knew all about him. He knew how the man had loved to torment people and make their lives a living hell just because he was a lonely bastard who couldn't get any. Did he think Lily would do that?

Harry stared at the unfinished letter, glaring at it. What was the second reason? To ask her if she'd break her vows and sleep with the greasy git? He wouldn't put it past Snape. The greasy git had probably salivated over the idea.

"Mr. Potter," a silk voice drawled behind him. "I was not aware that I had allowed you to read my personal letters."

Harry instantly whirled around and glared at Snape. He wanted to scream at the bastard to leave his mother alone, but the words failed to leave his throat. He then noticed Snape's hair. The familiar grease in his hair was long gone replaced with a healthy silky raven shine. Oh, this man was really starting to irritate him. If Snape thought washing his hair would make Harry's mum fall for him, then Snape had another thing coming. Gritting his teeth, though, Harry drew in a breath and stormed over to his seat. He'd get that git back. He would. Unfortunately, though, he'd suffer through his Potions class.

"Now, continuing on from last class," Snape loudly announced to the room that had filled during the time Harry had read Snape's letter. "Bezoars, while extremely handy, can be rather dangerous if the unknown poison reacts to it. It is why you must always first ascertain what poison is used before deciding which antidote to use. Otherwise, you likely could cause your victim to suffocate on his or her own vomit." Snape then glanced at Hermione. "Miss Granger, no doubt you've read the required reading for today, enlighten this class of dunderheads as to what poisons react violently to bezoars."

Harry tuned out his friend's answer. He even tuned out Snape rewarding Gryffindor with twenty points. After all, he saw what this was. Snape was trying to get on Harry's good side. Well, it wasn't going to work. The nasty git could proclaim that Gryffindor was the best House and that Slytherin sucked Dragon balls for all he cared. It wouldn't change Harry's mind whatsoever. Snape was still a git, attempting to get into Harry's mum's knickers. Well, Harry was going to make sure that git didn't get that far with his mother. He was going to write his mother that night and tell her all about his nasty, greasy git of a Potions master who was unfair and called Gryffindors little dunderheads who should have been Kissed by the Dementors upon sorting. Snape would regret the day he was born. Harry would make damn sure of that.

~POL~

As his last class of the day was let out, Snape sighed, staring at the empty seat Potter had been in earlier that day. The boy clearly was upset about something. However, nothing he had done could produce that sort of anger in the boy. By the end of class, in fact, he had awarded Gryffindor with a hundred and fifty points, mostly thanks to Granger and her extreme know-it-all ability.

Frowning, he glanced down at his unfinished letter. Had Potter been upset because Snape was offering to help Lily financially? As the letter said, it was the least he could do. He had been the reason the Dark Lord had killed her, Potter, and attempted to kill the boy. But the boy didn't know that. Snape was sure of it.

"Uh-oh, I know that look," an amused voice spoke from his doorway.

"Do you?" he replied with a sigh before glancing towards the witch. "Why are you here?"

"Well, I'm under the impression, mistaken or otherwise, that we have a meeting right now."

"Meeting?" he repeated, staring at the dark curly-haired witch.

"Yes, concerning our House, Severus," she replied, folding her arms across her navy blue robes. "If you'd like, I could come back later."

"No, it's all right."

"Well, I've already spoken to Miss Parkinson in regards to her behavior," the witch said, walking further into the room. "She assures me that she will not attempt it again. However, I am not so certain. She had that look in her eyes, Severus."

"Your recommendation?" he asked quietly.

"Well, if I were Head of House, and we'll both thank Merlin that I'm not, I'd set a ward up around the Slytherin boys dorms that would respond negatively whenever Miss Parkinson attempts to go near it. That way, it alerts us to her attempts, while ensuring that she fails, allowing the gentlemen to rest easy for the remainder of the night."

"I agree," he replied, inclining his head towards her. "I'll leave you to erect the wards."

"She has you all knotted up inside again, doesn't she, Severus?" The witch then laughed softly.

"I do not appreciate your insinuation about my relationship with Miss Park—"

"I'm not talking about her, and you very well know it," the witch said, rolling her eyes. "I am referring to the recently revived Lily Evans." When he glanced at her startled, she smiled. "You've got that look in your eyes again, Severus." She then sighed, taking a seat in the chair across from him. "I take it this means she forgives you for your temporary insanity that day by the lake."

"She has."

"Ah," she responded. "So you've renewed your friendship. Well, congratulations are in order then. Perhaps a drink or two to celebrate?" she asked, smirking at him.

"Now you have that look in your eyes," he retorted, glancing at her.

"What? I don't have any such look. I'm happy for you. I am."

"You think I'll botch it again, don't you?"

"You weren't the reason your friendship with her ended in the first place in my opinion," the witch replied. "But we both know how jaded I am, don't we?" She then sighed, forcing her face to remain neutral. "I am happy for you, and I do sincerely wish you the best, Severus."

"But?" he responded, folding his arms at her.

"No, there is not 'but' this time, Severus." She then stood. "Unfortunately, I just remembered. I have some essays that I must get to. We'll continue this later, Severus?" She smiled when he nodded. "Try to have a good rest of your night." She then quietly turned and headed to the door before shutting it behind her.

Sighing, he rose. He and Lily had renewed their friendship. It should be the happiest time of his life. Lily was alive, and she was his friend. So why did he feel like crap? Could it be because of Harry? Or, was it because all this goodness in his live now made him wonder when the bad would occur?

Grabbing his parchment that he knew the boy had read, he quickly crumpled it up and threw it into the fireplace. It sounded funny after all like the words were false. He guessed in a way they were, though. The words he wanted to say were the words he was too scared to say. Reaching up, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it in, sticking his head into the flames. He needed to speak with Lily.

"Lil?" he quietly spoke, attempting not to draw attention from any nosy Dursleys.

"I hear you, Sev," Lily softly replied with a smile. "What are you doing?"

"I wanted to speak with you," he answered.

"Is something wrong with Harry?"

He thought about telling her about Harry, but decided against it. He didn't need her to concern herself over something that likely would blow over with time. With a sigh, he decided to press forward.

"How are things with Tuney?"

"Well, she's enjoying the extra money I'm making. She only sees about a third of the money I make, though." Lily then frowned before lowering her voice. "I've been attempting to find a place for Harry and me to live this summer."

"Oh? And how has that been?"

"Surprisingly difficult," she replied. "You see, I'm supposed to be dead." She said nothing when the familiar pain passed over his features expectedly. "Well, I've got to go, Sev, before Tuney figures out that there's magical nonsense going on in her house. I'll speak to you later."

Nodding, he pulled back and sighed as the flames normalized. It had been a short conversation, but it made him feel a bit better. She was still there, alive and well. His eyes then narrowed. He wanted to be closer to Lily. Lily and Harry needed a home. He then scoffed. It couldn't be that easy, could it?