Severus Snape watched the Potter spawn gasp as he entered the abandoned class room, which was not so abandoned anymore.

He smirked to himself, the boy was pleased, which was what Poppy had wanted, was it not? He was done with his work here—done with any interactions with the Potter boy until tomorrow evening at 7:00 o’clock. Hopefully, the boy would finish the detention without injuring or maiming himself. That’s what the brat got for refusing Severus' rare kindness and then having the audacity to mock him!

The Potions Master strode past the almost closed door, carefully checking to see if his enchantments to keep the true nature of the room hidden had worked. They had. No one but he, the Headmaster, Poppy, and Potter himself would ever again be able to see the room, much less enter it.

Severus quietly pondered his willingness to help the son of the man who had made his youth a living hell. He had noted, as had certain others, Potter’s absence at meals over the past four days. He’d also heard his colleagues in the staff room mention how Potter had begun sitting apart from his friends. In his own class the boy now partnered Neville Longbottom, making that incompetent whelp an outcast as well.

By now all the staff had heard about Potter’s slip up—complimenting one of his Snakes, of course. By the time it had reached their ears it had been blown so wildly out of proportion that Severus doubted the Potter spawn had done more than say Draco had been a bit less than exceptionally crude and lacking to his eye. Who knew what Weasley had translated certain words or phrases to in his brain…if that poor thing he kept trapped in his head could even be called a brain.

Arriving in his office, he looked scornfully at the papers still waiting to be graded on his desk. They could wait for a night, and were definitely not going anywhere, much to Severus’ chagrin. He had fallen behind due to Poppy’s request. Of course, the last thing he would do was hold it over his old friend’s head, but she had sent him back at least a couple hours by having him arrange Potter’s hidey-hole.

He greatly disapproved of the Headmaster and Medi-Witch letting the boy stay there; it was just like the brat to hide in the face of adversity.

What about the first year incidents?, a little voice whispered in the back of his mind. And the magic-ed snake, this year?

Those mattered not! This is a much easier task, all the boy has to do is settle the rumours.

Shut up!

Severus jolted awake and found his cheeks wet with tears. How weak had he gotten!

Tears over a simple…memory.

Of her…of Lily.

He clasped his hand over the locket that lay hidden under his nightshirt against his breast, and took several deep, calming breaths. It mattered not how much he wished for her return.

She was dead.

Long dead, gone.

Never to return. Never to smile at him again.

Never… ever.

Severus turned his attention to the clock on the nightstand and shook his head. The one thing he never wanted to keep was still ingrained in him. Even after all these years he still was captive to his father’s damned obsession at getting up well before any reasonable hour—except for perhaps the Muggle military. He snorted with disgust.

5:00 a.m. Even those warring Muggles likely got more rest than he did!

Well, there were always those essays to get graded. He was never loathe to hand the assignments out…because he never really remembered the frustration of grading the chicken-scratch he got handed in to him. Were never these children taught to properly use a quill?

Time for the daily headache to start…and people wondered why I’m so damn approachable,. he thought, with a sour grin.