“I have had just about enough of you two,” Albus Dumbledore roared at his professor and student. Madam Pomfrey stood strictly by, awaiting her chance to finish treating her newest patients. “I have been patient and accommodating, but this is it. We are just days into the school year and you have already progressed to causing each other physical harm.”

Severus Snape and Harry Potter cast glares at each other but turned chastened looks at the headmaster. Dumbledore, however, wasn’t fazed by the expressions. Rather, his face remained uncharacteristically stern and hard as he stared at them.

Harry didn’t know what the issue was. The ‘physical harm’ had been the aftermath of an exploding potion which was caused by the fight they had been having. Distracted by his rage, Harry had put the wrong ingredient in and it had exploded all over them, giving them numerous burns and bruises from Snape bringing them harshly to the floor. Their animosity had never bothered Dumbledore before, so why now?

“You are going to learn to tolerate each other,” Dumbledore was saying. Harry and Snape frowned at what he could possibly be planning. “From now on, Harry, once a week you will go to Professor Snape’s rooms and the two of you will spend no less than an hour together. Find things to talk about, read, do your individual work, but do it together, learn about each other, and learn to get along. I will not tolerate such behaviour any longer, especially when it has no merit or reasoning.”

“Professor!” Harry protested, eyes wide at the idea of having to spend free time with Snape.

“Headmaster, I hardly think this is necessary,” Snape said and Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed.

“I think you will find, Severus, that it is I who decides what is necessary and I have deemed this quite necessary,” Dumbledore said. “We are in the prelude to war, my boys, and this behaviour will only hinder our efforts once we are at war.”

Snape and Harry remained silent, both ashamed in the face of Dumbledore’s anger and internally fuming at having to spend time together.

“You will learn the truth about each other, and this behaviour and treatment of each other will cease. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they said together and glared at each other again.

“Begin this immediately,” Dumbledore said. “Severus, you will write me a weekly report after each meeting so I might monitor your progress.”

“Yes, Albus,” Snape said tightly.

Dumbledore nodded sharply. “Have a good evening, boys.”

They watched the headmaster leave the Hospital Wing in aggravated silence and petulantly took potions that Pomfrey forced on them. They then stalked out of the infirmary. Snape whirled around once they were in the hall, making Harry stop abruptly with wide eyes.

“Be at my office tomorrow evening at seven. Do not be late. Every Thursday at seven o’clock,” Snape said.

Harry wanted to snap and refuse, but knew it would get him nowhere. So he clenched his jaw and nodded. Snape just sneered and stalked off to his dungeons. Harry huffed in irritation and made his way back up to Gryffindor Tower, choosing to forgo dinner.

He sat heavily in one of the chairs by the fireplace, finding himself wishing, not for the first time, that Sirius would answer his letters. He had already sent two but he had yet to receive a reply. His summer had been horrible as his uncle had stepped up the blows he dealt. He still had a lot of healing to do from his uncle’s treatment. Not only had his summer been awful but it also seemed as though his relationship with Snape was even more volatile. He was also having the freakiest dreams. He just wanted someone to talk to, someone who might be able to explain or help or just make him feel…safer. He just wanted to feel safe for once.

“Harry? You never came to dinner,” Hermione said when she and Ron returned to the common room later on.

“What happened?” Ron asked.

“Dumbledore’s angry at me and Snape,” Harry said. “He thinks we need to stop fighting, that it’s getting out of hand.”

“He’s not wrong,” Hermione said, gaining a blank look from Harry and an affronted look from Ron. “The Death Eaters are active which means Voldemort is too. There will be a war and probably sooner rather than later. How can we fight a war together when we can’t all tolerate each other on a regular day?”

“Who says Snape’s even on our side?” Ron said.

“He is,” Harry said. “As much as I hate him, he is completely loyal to Dumbledore.”

“I dunno, mate,” Ron said uncertainly. “He seems like good Death Eater material to me.”

“There’s more to the professor than we could ever even hope to understand,” Hermione said. “We will need him as an ally in the war but that can’t happen if we can’t get along.”

“Funny, Dumbledore said basically the same thing,” Harry said with a sigh. “In any case, Dumbledore’s way ahead of you, Hermione. He’s got Snape and me spending an evening a week together to get to know each other and learn to get along. He sounded pretty annoyed with the way we act towards each other.”

“At least he’s after Snape about it for once,” Ron grumbled. “He’s never seemed to care about Snape being a git before.”

“They’ve also never caused each other physical harm before,” Hermione pointed out.

“It was a complete accident and you know it,” Harry said, his eyes narrowing at her.

“I know,” she said, “but it also wouldn’t have happened if you could hold your temper and get along with Professor Snape.”

“He doesn’t exactly make it easy,” Harry said.

“I’m aware, but it also goes both ways,” she said. “You are both responsible for the way your relationship is.”

Harry huffed, knowing she was right. He exchanged a knowing look with Ron, both of them quirking small smiles.

Harry groaned quietly to himself as he stood outside Snape’s office. There was a huge part of him that was saying to leave, to ignore Dumbledore’s orders. There was the other part, however, that was smaller but louder and telling him to knock. He sighed and did as he was told.

“Enter.”

He pushed the door open and slowly walked into the office, finding Snape sitting at his desk. Once the door closed, Snape looked up, looking just as irritated about the situation as Harry felt.

“Come,” he said shortly, rising from the desk. He walked to a door that was in the far corner and went through after tapping it with his wand. “You are to always knock before entering my quarters.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said, following the man into surprisingly comfortable looking rooms, surprising for them being Snape’s. While he had expected Snape’s rooms to be nothing but green and silver, there was actually very little green and no silver. Instead, it was all earth tones with beige sofas, auburn chairs, and a dark oak wood coffee table with a glass center. There were puffy, dark green pillows on the sofas as a nice accent and the thick, soft carpet was also dark green. All the furniture encircled a large fireplace that was currently lit and roaring.

“Sit,” Snape snapped, taking his own seat on the sofa. Harry hesitated for a time and then sat stiffly in one of the large chairs next to the sofa. It was so soft and he knew he could into it if he let himself. For now, though, he sat straight and folded his hands in his lap.

Tense silence fell and fell thick.

Harry had no idea what Dumbledore expected them to talk about. Not only did they hate each other but they simply had nothing in common. Slytherins and Gyrffindors were completely different. Snape was a Potions and books person while Harry was Defense and Quidditch. Not that he didn’t like reading, he did, and he was at least interested in Potions outside of Snape’s classroom. But…he was the Boy Who Lived and James Potter’s son. He had an image he had to present, didn’t he? Harry Potter was supposed to like training, fighting, and being active. He loved being active but he would also love the chance to just read a book or explore his own personal magic away from battle training.

But none of that was Harry Potter, he wasn’t supposed to, wasn’t allowed…so why bother?

He snorted to himself quietly at the brief ludicrous thought of telling all that to Snape. Like Snape would understand or evencare. He was just like everyone else and only saw him as the next James Potter.

“I can hear you brooding over here, Potter.”

Harry glared at Snape for interrupting his musings. “That a problem?”

“Considering you are in my quarters, I’d prefer you not bring more misery to an already miserable situation,” Snape said.

“Hard to do when you’re here,” Harry snapped. “Misery seeps out of you.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed in anger. “I do not appreciate being insulted in my own quarters,” he growled.

“I don’t like being insulted in general, but that’s never stopped you before,” Harry spat.

Snape sneered. “Have I hurt your precious, delicate feelings, Potter? So spoiled you can’t handle criticism?”

“Like I’m remotely close to spoiled,” Harry scoffed. “And your ‘criticism’ seems a lot like abuse and hatred.”

“Do you or do you not have a Firebolt, Potter?”

Harry’s face tensed in anger. “That was from Sirius, a gift.”

“No, not spoiled,” Snape mocked. “And all your adoring fans.”

“Oh, you mean the people who turn around and hate me the second I’m not the perfect golden child? Yeah, great fans,” Harry said, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be an imbecile, no one could ever hate you,” Snape snapped.

Harry glared. “I know of one person who does.”

“My apologies for not worshipping you like the rest.”

“I never asked for it. I don’t even want it.”

Snape barked a harsh laugh. “Sure, a Potter doesn’t want fame and eternal worldly praise. Don’t kid yourself.”

“Maybe my father was like that, but I am not my father.”

“You are every bit the person James Potter once was, egotistical, a bully, all of it. Think you’re above it all, greater than Merlin himself. You are every ounce of your father but I will not indulge.”

Harry hardened. “I am not my father and I am definitely not a bully.”

Snape raised a condescending eyebrow. “Oh really? And all your encounters with Mr. Malfoy?”

“He started it!”

Snape shook his head. “Blaming others for your faults and failures. Just like—“

“I’m not my father!” Harry yelled, unconsciously jumping to his feet.

Snape snarled. “Do not yell at me, boy.”

“You call me and my father bullies? I think you need to check yourself, Snape because you are the only bully I see here!”

“How dare you, you insolent, insignificant little brat?” Snape growled quietly, also getting to his feet to tower over Harry. “You will not disrespect me in my own home.”

“Then stop being a git and give me a reason to respect you.”

Snape’s face twisted and when his hand came up, Harry honestly thought he was about to be hit. He flinched instinctively and cringed when the hand gripped his upper arm tight right where he had a still healing bruise. He hissed in pain and stumbled, staring at Snape in surprise when he was shoved out into the office.

“Leave my sight this instant.”

And the door was slammed shut.

Well, that went just as well as I expected, Harry mused with a sigh and headed back up to Gryffindor Tower. He just shook his head when he realized they hadn’t even managed their one-hour minimum.

And so it went on. Every Thursday evening saw Harry entering Snape’s rooms only for them to sit in silence and then scream and curse each other. It wasn’t until the fourth week that they finally reached one hour but their fighting began shortly after and Harry was once again kicked out. As the weeks continued, Harry gained homework that he was able to bring with him even though it didn’t protect him from Snape’s rage and hatred. His supposed stupidity was frequently addressed and their interaction never got better, but rather devolved into their usual screams.

His assumed ego and fame-seeking ways were brought up often as well since the Triwizard Tournament would be taking place that year. Snape continuously harassed him about his assumed desire to enter the tournament and gain that eternal glory Dumbledore had mentioned. Of course, Harry wasted his breath arguing against the accusations but he refused to be accused of being a spoiled, attention-seeker when he was so far from it. He also refused to be any kind of a step in for his parents. He had no idea what kind of people they had truly been and he didn’t want to be compared to potentially false images. Additionally, he wanted to be his own person rather than a reincarnation or the Boy Who Lived.

He blew out a breath and sat heavily in front of the Gryffindor fire. As the meetings went on and it drew closer to the beginning of the tournament, Harry couldn’t help but feel tension rising within the castle. He tried to shake it off, figuring it was just because of his continuous nightmares, but he couldn’t help but wonder. It was completely possible that it was too good to be true to think he could go a year without anything happening. He could hope but was it possible?

He gasped when his scar suddenly burst with a short but sharp pain. His hand flew to his forehead and he massaged his scar, easing away the lingering sting. He frowned as it disappeared. Beginning over the summer, he had started to wonder about his scar. It wouldn’t seem a scar would or should hurt so many years after the injury. However, it hadn’t been just a regular wound; it had been caused by magic. Dark magic?

Was there such a thing?

Hagrid had said there were Dark wizards and had sort of implied that Voldemort used Dark magic. Even Dumbledore had sort of alluded to the existence of Dark magic after the Chamber events. But it didn’t seem like magic could be qualified in such terms. Anything could be considered ‘Dark’ if used in such a way. Which wouldn’t make the magic itself bad but, rather, the way it was used.

So his scar was caused by magic, but because of the way Voldemort used the magic and also the situation it had been caused in, there could be something bad behind his scar. There could be some kind of magical reside that was now affecting it. He would have to look into it.

Until then, maybe he would try Sirius again. Maybe he’d actually receive an answer. Sirius had seemed so upset to have to leave him last year so why wasn’t he answering any of Harry’s letters? Didn’t Sirius want them to be a family or at least as close as they could get for the moment?

Severus growled to himself as he stared into the fire. These meetings with Potter had to be one of the worst ideas Dumbledore had ever had. Their current relationship worked just fine. There was no need for them to get along and like each other.

“How was it tonight, Severus?”

Severus glared at the headmaster. “Same as the last three. This is all pointless, Albus. Nothing will change.”

“I beg to differ, my boy,” Dumbledore said. “The two of you are not so different and we need established alliances if we want a head start on the coming war.”

“Potter and I do not have to be friends to win a war.”

“Perhaps not but it would be quite the advantage and the both of you are missing something in your lives. You could be each other’s answers.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “You are delusional. Nothing will come of these meetings.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore mused. “If anything, maybe you could at least provide young Harry with an outlet.”

“Meaning?” Severus drawled.

“I fear Harry may experience awful things this year and he has a harsh past he has yet to reveal to anyone.”

Severus' eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

Dumbledore simply smiled. “Have a good night, my boy.”

Severus glared and left the office. There was no part of him that believed anything Dumbledore had said. Well, maybe there was a small part. He supposed an alliance with Potter could be beneficial in the war that was to come. Potter was the one destined to defeat Voldemort and he would surely be a powerful wizard one day. The boy would certainly need training and there weren’t many trustworthy people that could prepare him for Voldemort. Not that he would want to do extra work with the brat, but Dumbledore was sure to enlist his help with Potter one day.

He didn’t have to be Potter’s friend but at least tolerate the child enough that they could efficiently work together down the line.

He blew out a frustrated breath and shook his head as he entered his rooms.

He would tolerate Potter minimally and that was it.