"Do you think it's true?"

"He doesn't look like him."

"Sure he does, look at that hair!"

Harry felt like a turtle without a shell. He wanted to melt into a wall and become part of the stone so that nobody would speak about him as he passed as if he couldn't hear them, or see them pointing and giving him strange looks. Any hopes he might have had that morning upon waking of having a normal day were gone. He had believed it all a bad dream until he noticed Ron and the others in the sixth year boy's dormitory giving him a good looking over.

"What?" he had asked, and they all looked away, as if they were shy and had never met him before.

Noting Snape's absence at the head table, Harry scarfed breakfast down in the Great Hall that morning wishing he were unaccustomed to all of the unwanted attention. Unfortunately this was a regular occurrence.

This was the year, he had told himself almost seven months ago. This is the year that nothing bad will happen to make me miserable at school. And so for six and a half months he had been a normal, teenage boy at Hogwarts. He'd dated a fifth year Ravenclaw for a while before Christmas, gotten dumped for being somebody different than she'd thought, gotten good grades here and there, mostly in Charms and Defense, and even tripped over his tongue in front of several other girls he had an eye for, including what he was sure was the only gentle Slytherin girl, a seventh year named Keoni who wouldn't give him the time of day.

But no. With two months left until summer, he was walking through the halls getting stares and comments, as if he were the world's most interesting specimen. It didn't matter that it wasn't true, that somebody had probably messed with the cauldrons, no, they all believed the lies. Harry wished that he could believe the lie he was trying to tell himself, that everybody had simply bunged up their potions. But Hermione he trusted, and she re-brewed the potion for him during their free period after Transfiguration that afternoon. Once again the same white letters appeared.

"Why didn't they do this when you were a baby?" Ron asked, staring down into the cauldron.

Feeling snarky all of a sudden Harry snapped out at him, "Because nobody thought my mum was sleeping around with some git while she was married to my dad!"

Hermione looked back and forth between her two best friends for a moment in Myrtle's bathroom before she said, "Harry, we don't know that's what happened. She might have gotten married after-"

"Does it matter?" Harry felt like shouting, even at his friends. "She still slept with him! Still had some kind of feelings for him! How could she? How could he be a part of me?"

"He's not," Ron said, shaking his head. "No way mate, you're still Harry Potter, no matter what some stupid cauldron says."

Harry tried to slow his breathing and calm at that thought that Ron and Hermione still had some confidence in him. He couldn't deny that he felt anxious inside that somehow they might abandon him now that he was Severus Snape's spawn. That is what he was, he thought bitterly. Ron and Hermione were offspring, but he was spawn... his dreams of being somebody's son would never be realized.

"I hate this," Harry said quietly having run out of steam. "I hate how everybody looks at me like I'm different, just like they do every year."

Ron patted Harry on the back. "Well, at least we can count on one thing mate."

Harry raised a doubtful brow.

"Well, we know Snape will be his same old spiteful self in Potions next period. And we can't get a bad grade today either since he failed us for the week." Ron gave him a mischievous grin and Harry tried to return it but his stomach was bubbling with upset and he couldn't.

Unfortunately for Harry, Ron was very mistaken. Compared to Snape everyone else was being completely normal. Snape on the other hand seemed out for blood. The second Harry walked into Potions Snape was scolding him for having his tie undone. Then once he was in his seat Snape was taking points away for slouching and for shooting him dirty looks, which Harry wasn't since his eyes had been resolutely glued to his table.

Harry succeeded for getting a double D for the day on top of his previous fail, and losing over 25 house points for one thing or another even though he had yet to say a single word in class. In the end Harry hurried out of the room with Ron and Hermione on his heels. He skipped dinner again in favor of solitude in the boy's dormitory with his hangings closed.

He hates me for sure, Harry told himself after he threw himself down onto his bed in the empty room and buried his face in his pillow. He knows I'm his son and he made it an extra point to make me miserable. Harry tried to tell himself that he didn't care, but couldn't bring himself to that conclusion. He hated Snape with a passion. The man had intentionally been all over Harry since day one. And yet, something inside wanted to be wanted. Something deeper still made him feel unworthy. There is something seriously wrong with me if everyone in my family despises me, he thought sadly. He had always told himself there was something wrong with them for hitting him or locking him a cupboard, but now his instincts were betraying him and telling him the opposite.

Maybe things will be better tomorrow, he hoped as he drifted off into an unpeaceful sleep, knowing it probably wouldn't be.

* * *

"Potter! Detention!"

Harry cringed as he turned to see Snape striding away down the long corridor, robes billowing. He wasn't sure what he'd done this time, but he'd been scrubbing floors for Filch, cooking meals for the elves, and doing lines for Snape for the last week and a half. Every time he turned around it was detention or lost points. People in his own house were really starting to despise him now that their chance at the house cup was a long past opportunity. At least Ron and Hermione were still standing by him, he thought. So long as he had them he was ok.

Harry didn't follow after Snape. He didn't want to. Maybe I can just run now and never look back, he thought, although he quite thought he'd like to finish school so that he could keep his wand. He toyed with the idea for a moment longer before he started down the hall after Snape. What he really wanted was for the man to stop taking every opportunity to beat him down so thoroughly. Not a chance, he told himself as he entered Snape's office a few minutes later and Snape stood glaring him down.

"You will write 500 times, ‘I will not stand in the hall preening myself.'" Harry frowned. He had been standing in the hall looking out the window towards the pitch where Ravenclaw was practicing, but he hadn't been touching his face or hair in any way.

Harry sat down and pulled out a quill. His hand was still killing him from writing lines yesterday. ‘I will not stick my nose up in the air like an arrogant brat,' 300 times was killer, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to make it through this afternoon's detention. It was Saturday and he'd rather be out flying or doing anything than be sitting in the office of the man who hated him the most... his father.

Around 100 lines he toyed with the idea of throwing in random sentences every once in a while such as ‘I hate you Snape,' or ‘you're a wanker' but instead he was horrified to find that he'd written, ‘my father hates me' several times. Panicking because he had to hand this paper over to Snape when he was done, Harry looked around for anything to erase the lines, but found nothing.

"I did not give you permission to look at my personal belongings Potter!" Snape snapped out, putting intentional emphasis on Potter.

Harry quickly went back to writing lines about preening himself and prayed that Snape would not actually read every line he wrote. The offending words were lost in the middle of the page somewhere anyhow, and once Harry had written a few more lines they blended in nicely. Good, he breathed, good.