“Blasted senile old man!” muttered Snape darkly under his breath, completely unaware of the students that scattered in his wake. The hand that was clamped down on Harry’s neck wasn’t exactly gentle any more. Any student that caught sight of the two of them barreling down the corridors towards the dungeons sent Harry pitying glances, before fleeing away as quickly as they could. 

No doubt everyone thought Harry was in trouble – big trouble. There would be rumors of Harry’s demise at the Potions Master’s hands tomorrow over eggs and pumpkin juice. 

Harry couldn’t help but think the same thing himself. He was just glad that there weren’t any more classes for the day. He wasn’t sure if he could handle that mess. His biggest worry at the moment was his detention tonight with Umbridge. 

Can you imagine? thought Harry bitterly to himself. My two least favorite teachers in the same room together, hovering over me? 

At least he didn’t have to live with Umbridge. Harry knew that if she had full control over his living situation, he’d throw himself off the Astronomy Tower before nightfall. If he had to choose, there was no doubt about it – Snape won hands down. Everything about Umbridge was horrible and terribly creepy; the way she looked at him, studied him with that simpering smile; the way she inspected his hand at the end of a detention; the way she seemed to drink in his pain with a deep amount of pleasure that almost rivaled Voldemort’s own obsession – everything about her made Harry shudder in revulsion. 

At least Snape was pretty honest about what he thought and did around Harry. There was something sly about Umbridge that Harry wasn’t ever sure what she was really thinking. With Snape, it was extremely clear what he thought – especially since he voiced it on more than one occasion. 

But what made Harry choose Snape over Umbridge was the fact that he never did extreme harm to Harry. No matter how much Harry returned the hate that Snape gave him, he had to admit that the man had, on multiple occasions, protected him from danger. 

Still… that didn’t explain why the man absolutely loathed him. What kind of person loathes an eleven year old kid even before meeting him? What the heck did Harry do to deserve that? He had been eleven, for crying out loud. Seriously, come on, how fair was that? The more Harry thought about the injustice of the loathing, the more worked up he felt inside. 

‘But…’ 

A gentle voice seemed to enter Harry’s head. 

‘He did protect you that first year. You and your friends wrongly thought he was the one going after the stone. He helped save your life during the broom incident.’ 

But— 

‘And remember third year? He put himself in between of Remus and the three of you. He was willing to be maimed by a werewolf for you.’ 

Lupin didn’t mean— 

‘Fourth year he fought angrily for you to be removed from the tournament.’ 

Not before he accused me of entering it for kicks, though. 

‘He still fought for you. Which fact, if you recall, you were actually greatly thankful for, since afterwards nobody believed you when you said you didn’t put your name in the goblet. Even your best mate.’ 

Harry sighed to himself as he continued to walk – really march at the speed Snape was going – beside his professor. His eyes glanced over at the man. Snape was looking straight forward as he walked, his face frozen in a livid expression.

Well, life was going to be… interesting for awhile, now wasn’t it? Snape couldn’t be worse than Umbridge. After all, what kind of person carves a lesson into someone’s hand? Harry was sure that, no matter the faults that he could list, Snape was the more livable choice than Umbridge. 

The real question now was, would Harry be able to live through it? 

Harry’s stomach turned and twisted in nervousness as they continued to descend down into the dungeons. He tried extremely hard to let his thoughts think about what potions needed humans parts, but he couldn’t help it. 

How he knew about those potions was his secret, however. 

As they came to Snape’s office finally, the nervous feeling inside Harry’s stomach lifted to his heart; sending it to constrict and flutter with pure anxiousness. He took a deep breath as the door shut behind them. Snape snapped his fingers. Harry looked behind himself to see a gentle sheen of magic settle onto the door handle before disappearing. 

It would appear that they were locked in completely. 

Snape led Harry to the front of his desk before leaning onto its surface with his free hand. The man let out a deep sigh, as if he were letting out the tension inside his chest. Harry just stood there, not wanting to bring out the man’s wrath. After a few quiet moments, there was a gentle tug at Harry’s neck. The hand that was resting there was still stuck. There was another sigh from the man. Once again, no movement came from Snape. 

“Sir…” began Harry, before he could stop himself. 

“Potter,” whispered Snape; his voice soft, yet holding a hidden deadly tone. “If you have an ounce of self preservation, I suggest you employ it immediately and be silent.” 

Harry clamped his mouth shut, resisting the urge to shiver. The man that had a hand on his neck sounded completely dangerous. He swallowed once, his throat becoming drier by the second. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that the spell would let them apart before that hand tightened a bit too much. 

After another few, long, agonizing moments for Harry, there was another tug at his neck as Snape tried to remove his hand again. Harry’s head was pulled back with the tug. There was a loud exhale in exasperation from Snape. 

“I am going to kill that boy,” muttered Snape under his breath. 

Under normal circumstances, Harry would’ve found that prospect very entertaining. But as he was in a dangerous situation himself at that very moment, he didn’t find it in himself to even smile. 

It was the strangest thing Harry had ever experienced in his life. The two of them were standing in silence with Snape leaning against his desk with his free hand, his other hand locked onto the back of Harry’s neck. Time seemed to move slower than ever, as if determined to make every second that passed feel like an eternity. The air felt tense. Harry tried to occupy his mind with the objects that adorned the shelves against the walls. 

He’d always found Snape’s office a mixture of interesting and creepy. From the copious amounts of jars filled with strange things, to the unique archways that display runes. He’d only been inside a few times – always on the fact of being in detention. He liked it far better than Umbridge’s pink wallpaper with endless mewling kittens. Just being in her office made Harry feel like hurling. 

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts as the hand on his neck once again tried to remove itself. Finally, Harry felt cool air pass over his neck, signifying the fact that he was free. There was a deep sigh from Snape, almost in relief. Then, abruptly, Snape stood up and walked around to the back of his desk, his black robes fluttering in his wake. Harry stayed silent, watching the man with careful eyes. Snape pulled open a drawer and began rummaging through it. 

“It would appear that you and I will be spending far too much time together from now on, Mr. Potter,” stated Snape, not looking up at Harry as he pulled out an old fashioned key from his drawer. 

“Yes, sir,” responded Harry, pulling as much respect as he could. He wasn’t in the mood to fight at that moment. He knew that between the two of them, he better be the mature one and keep his mouth shut. It was some consolation to his brain when he thought on that level. 

Snape stood straight as he looked Harry in the eyes. 

“What you are about to be privileged to see has not been seen by any student during my entire tenure here.” 

Harry opened his mouth, slightly startled by this. He blinked, confused. What did Snape mean by that? Seeing the puzzled look on Harry’s face, Snape smirked at him. 

“Potter, if you tell anyone the entrance to my quarters, they shall tell of your demise generations to come.” 

Harry closed his mouth. He almost chuckled at that. So, that’s what Snape meant. 

“Right, yes, sir.” 

Snape seemed to give him a disbelieving look. A retort was on the tip of Harry’s tongue, but he held back as it flittered through his mind. I don’t have a death wish, Snape. No need to state the obvious. 

Snape’s eyes narrowed. Swallowing nervously, Harry quickly averted his own. He always wondered if Snape could read minds. The man always seemed to know what he was thinking. He glanced back at Snape. The man was observing him carefully with a slightly amused expression on his face, the edges of his lips twitching. Then, he snorted. 

“Potter.” 

Harry looked up completely, just in time to see Snape toss the key at him. He caught it easily from years of practice on the Quidditch field. Harry looked down at the key. It was silver with an ornate design at the top. A silver chain suddenly shimmered into appearance through the loop and slowly became longer. A moment later, the key began to become hot in his hand – however, it wasn’t an unpleasant warmth. Soon, the key went back to its cool temperature. 

“That is your entrance to my quarters,” began Snape, his tone completely business like. “It has acclimated to your signature, thus the heat you no doubt just felt. No one will be able to remove it forcibly from your person unless you remove it yourself, which you will not do so. You are to wear that at all times. Do not remove it under any circumstance, even when bathing.” 

Snape turned and walked away from his desk. He motioned for Harry to follow him, which he did; stepping quickly to catch up with the long strides that Snape was taking. Harry slipped the chain around his neck, holding the key in his hand still. The man stopped in front of a plain wall at the other side of his office. It had a single line of runes across it. Snape slid his hand over these. The wall slowly began to simmer, the stone melding into a large door. 

“The wards will be keyed to your signature. I shall also put a safety portkey onto the key because Merlin knows the trouble and danger you get yourself into.” 

“Hey!” 

“Hay is for horses, Potter,” said Snape, sending Harry a smirk. Then, his expression darkened. “While you are living with me, I will not tolerate your usual flout for school rules, nor your tendency to dive head first into situations without so much as a second thought to your safety and health. You will keep a smart head on your shoulders or so help me, Potter, I will drill the concept into it and you will not like my methods.” 

Well, that didn’t sound promising. Harry tried to push the irritation he felt down. It wasn’t like he tried to break school rules. And he didn’t flout them! Whatever the heck that meant… Hermione would know… Why did Snape have to use words nobody knew any more? Speak in English, for crying out loud. Although, it was probably better that way. Then, Harry wouldn’t be so angry at the man, since Snape was probably saying insulting things, just in fancy ways that nobody could figure out.

“A verbal reply is required,” said Snape, turning slightly to raise an eyebrow at him. Harry clenched his teeth and tried extremely hard not to glare – oh, was it difficult. 

“Yes, sir,” said Harry through gritted teeth. 

Snape’s lips thinned in disproval, but he didn’t say anything further. He lifted a key from around his neck in demonstration to Harry. He placed the key into the keyhole that had materialized with the door. Harry heard a gentle click and the door swung open. 

A sudden glow of curiosity rose inside Harry’s chest. He found himself extremely curious as to how the feared Potions Master of the dungeons lived. Would it be like the rumors that students spread – a dark, dank dungeon with a coffin in the middle? Or would it be the epitome of ‘Head of Slytherin’ with green and silver throughout its design? Or would it be shockingly completely normal? 

As Harry walked into the first room of Snape’s quarters, he found that it was none of those theories. The first room, which seemed like a living room or parlor by its appearance, was circular with a cozy fireplace in the back. The room reminded Harry of the man’s office as he looked at the walls. There were shelves of numerous strange things he’d never seen before. It also reminded Harry of Dumbledore’s office in some ways. There were also many books and tomes on multiple shelves. 

The ambiance of the room was warm with dark brown and sepia coloring. It had a peaceful feeling and Harry found that he quite liked it. The Gryffindor common room was nice, but one could only handle so much red and gold. This had a different feeling, a safer feeling – which fact was so strange to Harry considering who lived here. 

The door closed quietly behind them as Snape swept passed Harry. The man turned to face him and Harry felt a lecture coming on almost instantly. He was too right. 

“Let’s get a few things clear. You are not to run about, nor shout, nor carry on as if you were in your common room,” said Snape, his voice sliding into that annoying, slightly condescending tone he usually took with his students. What am I, four? thought Harry, feeling irritated at being talked down to. “We are going to have a quiet, uneventful evening tonight before the nonsense and horror of this situation fully descends upon us. Do I make myself clear?” 

Oh, poor Snape… He didn’t know yet. Well, actually, poor Harry once he took the man’s ‘quiet, uneventful’ evening away from him. 

“Uh… sir?” 

“What?” snapped Snape.

“I, uh… I have detention tonight,” said Harry, unconsciously lifting a hand to his cheek and scratching it nervously. His eyes did everything they could not to look directly into those sharp, piercing dark eyes – which were currently glaring at him. 

Oh, look, what a nice coffee table. Was that a jar of assorted nuts there? 

“You, what?” 

“It’s with Umbridge.” 

“A detention.” 

It was a statement. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“With… Umbridge.” 

Yet another statement. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Imbecile!” snapped Snape suddenly, causing Harry to flinch back. “After the warning Professor McGonagall gave you – oh, yes, I know about that –  you still opened your fat trap and mouthed off to that woman?” 

“I didn’t mouth off to her,” protested Harry. “She’s not teaching us anything! How the heck are we supposed to defend ourselves from Voldemort—” 

“Don’t say his name!” 

“—when she won’t teach us anything useful!” continued Harry, completely ignoring Snape’s reproach about Voldemort’s name. “And she had the gall to say that Quirrell was a decent teacher out of all the ones we’ve had so far. As if!” 

“And you took it upon yourself to correct her, did you?” sneered Snape, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, yeah…” 

There was a long awkward moment of silence as Snape stared at him, eyeing him intently with those dark eyes that seemed to see right through Harry, as if he were transparent. It made him feel uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure exactly what it was about it that made him feel that way. Then, after another long moment, Snape spoke again, his voice low and soft.

“Do you even have an ounce of brains in that head of yours?” 

Well, that wasn’t insulting… much. 

“Yeah, I do!” said Harry hotly, bristling at the remark. 

“Then, use them, you stupid boy!” shouted Snape, looking furious. “Think for one minute who Umbridge is and who she reports to – have you got an answer for that? To whom does Umbridge report?” 

There it was again – that piercing stare that drilled into Harry’s skull with a power like he’d never encountered before. He looked down at the ground to be free of it, shrugging after a minute. 

“Look at me and answer the question,” said Snape sharply. Harry’s head snapped up, his chest clenching in his anger. “Tell me it’s not too hard for your tiny brain to understand this.” 

“I get it, all right,” snapped Harry. Geez, no need to be snarky about it. “You don’t have to make a big deal about it.” 

“No?” drawled Snape, derision flowing through his smooth voice. “Says the brat that got not one, but two weeks of detention with that woman. Are you not thinking at all?!” 

If Harry hadn’t been so concerned over the fact that he was being scolded for the same offence for what seemed like the fifth time, he’d have noticed the disdain in Snape’s voice as he spoke of Umbridge. But he missed it, feeling too defensive at the moment. 

“I get it, okay!” shouted Harry, his fists clenched at his sides. “So, just shut up! I’m sorry that I’ve inconvenienced your quiet, uneventful evening tonight!” 

Oh, dear. It was about ten seconds after he shouted that he realized he probably shouldn’t have said that – or, at least, in the tone that he had taken. 

Snape looked livid.