The compressing, tight feeling of apparation disappeared as Severus Snape and Harry Potter landed in front of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Severus roughly grabbed the boy’s arm, which was still sore from a bruise received from his cousin Dudley, and brought him to his feet. The Potion’s Master pushed the teenager in front of him and into the dank halls of the Manor.

The door eerily slammed shut behind them and the picture of Sirius’ now deceased mother began screaming shrilly, causing the other portraits to moan and cover their ears.

“Don’t know why Dumbledore bloody sent me to fetch a little imbecile like yourself. Damned fool with his double entendres and sketchy missions…” “Don’t talk about him like that.”

Harry had had enough and was now gritting his teeth and clenching his fists. He continued, “You will never be half the man the Headmaster is, and you know it.”

Anger had been the prominent emotion that Harry had been feeling this entire summer. Anger at the world for taking the one person he cared about most away from him, Sirius, anger for the horrible tragedies he had been doled out in life, and anger at one person, one person that should have been able to stop Sirius’ death at the ministry, Snape.

Snape had knocked on his Aunt’s and Uncle’s door at midnight demanding the release of one Harry Potter. Vernon had of course yelled at Harry, demanding to know what kind of magic he had done to get him shipped off back to the Wizarding World. Petunia looked none too pleased to see the snarky, dark haired git at the door, and seemed to be taken aback when he had used the nickname “Tuney” in his usual sneer.

Petunia had all but shoved Harry upstairs, threw his clothes and possessions unceremoniously into his trunk, before throwing it down the stairs with a resounding thud, and pushing Harry down the same way. At the door, Snape hummed in pleasure, which Harry caught, watching as he discovered the boy-who-lived didn’t live such a glorious life, but pleased that he was getting punishment in some form on behalf of his father. Karma’s a bitch…or so they say.

And thus brings us to the moment that the duo landed so unceremoniously on the front lawn of number 12 and the subsequent bad talking and such.

The portrait was still screaming as Snape seethed in fury. How dare the little wretch talk to him in this manner! He was his professor, a man of higher standing and of higher age than the miniscule little brat standing before him.

“You dare talk to me in that manner you ungrateful little…”

“Yes, I do so dare! You do nothing but put people down for their flaws, and if you don’t agree with their decisions, you berate them behind their backs!”

Snape stepped towards the teenager ominously with fire in his eyes. He just dared the brat to continue…

“You didn’t even take the chance to look at what I was writing during the first potion’s class, did you? They were notes! Every word you said I held onto for years later, hoping you would ask to see it or something like that! Not that I expected you would…you don’t care for anyone but your little Slytherins.”

And with that Snape’s hand slammed into the boy’s chest and pushed him against the wall. The boy struggled as his feet were lifted from the floor, but ceased after a moment. The taller and stronger man held him tightly against the wall, an angry snarl leaving his lips causing spittle to hit the younger boy’s cheeks.

“You say I don’t care about my students, Potter? The fact that I put up with every one of you cheeky brats is something to uphold. If I didn’t enjoy my job, I wouldn’t do it!”

“You enjoy being a bully! You enjoy putting people down, eh Professor?”

And a cackle like no other left the Professor’s chapped lips, causing chills to creep up the spines of all those listening. Plural, for two Order member’s had been lurking on the stairs since the entrance of the pair. Professor McGonagall stared flabbergasted with Remus Lupin beside her looking equally as perplexed. They had never seen Severus act like this, and it was taking everything in Lupin not to attack the man holding his supposed-to-be-godson by the scruff of his collar to the wall.

“You are so like your father Potter, so arrogant and sure of yourself. You know nothing about me!”

“Just as you know nothing about me, Snape! How exactly can I be just like my father, when I didn't even know my father?! Why can’t I just be my own person, why do I have to be an exact mirror image of James Potter?!” He breathed heavily for a moment into the face of the surprised man in front of him before continuing, “James was a great Quidditch player. James was one of the greatest Aurors ever. James this, James that! I’m not James, Snape, I’m Harry! Harry fucking Potter! Which no one seems to understand!”

The surprised Potion’s Master released the child, for the person in his grip was the size, the age, and was just that, a child. Something many had forgotten. This was a child that had seen too many things, was put to high expectations wherever he turned.

A manic gleam entered the teen’s eyes as he shoved off the hands still gripping his t-shirt, and paced the length of the hallway once before stopping.

“Did you know, Professor, that I lived in a cupboard for the first eleven years of my life?” Severus gulped at the voice, the tone that the child was issuing. This was a tone of pure anger, of blame, a tone crying for help.

“Of course, you had to with our atrocious Occlumency lessons last year, don’t you remember those? How you shifted through my thoughts, leaving me with splitting headaches before doing it again and again and again.” He wiped his eyes once, trying to quell the tears, “And then I would go back to the dormitory and have nightmares, visions, wasn’t the Occlumency supposed to help me with those? It just left me exhausted, unable to protect myself at all!”

His breathing quickened and he slammed his hand into the wall next to him.

“You had to of seen the beatings I would take from my ‘family’, the beltings, the chores, the weeks without food, the work…” He tried to calm himself, but he had worked himself up so much he didn’t notice his Professor slinking closer to him.

The Professor attempted to lay a hand on the distraught boy’s shoulder, but Harry would have none of it. He pushed the man away, and ran towards the staircase, pushing through the two adults that were listening at the bottom of the steps.

Neither attempted to stop him, nor did they make any sound in hopes of reassuring the clearly upset young man.

The house was silent except for the frantic footsteps of Harry, and then the resounding thud of the door being slammed and a lock being forced into place.

All three adults stayed in their place before Remus moved forward and into the hallway in which the arguing started.

“What the hell were you thinking Snape? Did you now read the report Dumbledore told you to? Harry has been dealing with depression for the entire summer, none of the guard has seen him up close for days. And then you go and decide to spout off about his now deceased relatives…did you think he would just take it?”

Snape bowed his head, and retrieved a tumbler from a case as he walked into a lounge just off of the hallway. He summoned a bottle of firewhiskey and hastily poured it into the cup before throwing it into the back of his throat.

“I thought he would have more respect for his elders, wolf. He obviously has never been taught any means of respect in his pathetic life. His whining has done nothing but show me he is a pampered…spoiled…brat.”

His thoughts were screaming the opposite, telling him this was Lily’s child that blamed him for his beloved dog-father’s death.  He had to hold up a front, one he almost dropped during the exchanging of words that had taken place.

“He tells you he knows nothing about his father in whom he is always compared, he tells you most likely the things that have been drowning him, eating away at him for this entire summer, and you can just sit back and act like nothing has happened?”   

Silence reigned between the two as Severus put back another shot of alcohol. Minerva had entered the room at some point and was watching the display, gazing at her colleague with disgust as he drowned himself in booze.

“Did you know he was almost sorted into Slytherin, Severus?” Her aged voice created a thick wave of tension throughout the room.

The golden boy almost sorted into Slytherin? Absurd, simply and utterly absurd.

“Good try Minerva, but that’s like saying I was almost sorted into,” His upper lip raised into a sneer, “Gryffindor.”

“You do not need to believe me, but I would not lie about something like this. The Sorting Hat had a very long conversation with the Headmaster and myself, the boy chose Gryffindor when given the chance, which the hat conceded to. The boy absolutely begged to be put in the Lion Den, apparently the only reason he chose not to because of his acquaintance with the pompous Mr. Malfoy.”

“Well the boy was obviously too sensitive…” Minerva cut him off. “He was defending his friend, Severus, sound familiar?”

Flashbacks of himself with Lily and their friendship prior and during Hogwarts played through his mind, but it was ridiculous to use this as a comparison to Potter and himself.

“You have no basis to make a comment of such…” He paused. “It is simply preposterous.” He now sounded just a bit weary. Perhaps the liquid in which he was ingesting was affecting him just a bit faster tonight than normal.

Remus looked pained, as if he had just lost an internal debate with himself, and stepped forward.

“Severus, I know I am one of the last people you would ever think of listening to, but you were once my friend. A great friend, and only by allowing myself to be sucked in by Sirius and James’ antics did I abandon you, and I apologize. But, Harry is not James, Sev.” He called his once-friend his old nickname, and he allowed himself to fall back into the dusty couch on the other side of the room.

“In the year that I was Harry’s professor, I saw how much he craved for affection, the need to prove himself, to defend himself. He may look like James on the outside, except for his eyes, but he is completely Lily on the inside. His compassion and need to take care of others far outweighs James’ knack of finding trouble and bullying.

“I know you had a rough start…”

“Remus, don’t even suggest it.”

“But, I think you can get along if you guys tried. Sev, he has the brains to be on par with you, with the right guidance, he just needs your help.”

Severus threw his glass at the wall and stalked over to the overly large window, which was covered in rain droplets and showed a view across the street from the Manor. It was extremely dark and stormy out, lightning and thunder lighting and shaking the house respectively.

He was silent as he gazed out across the stoned drive, thinking, plotting.

“He has a week, wolf, and tell him I will not go easy on him.”

And with that he stomped out of the room and into the night, disapparating off of the front door step.