Notes: Well, I've read enough Harry Potter fanfics that the temptation became too much and I decided that I'd write one as well. So here is the result. This actually was a stretch for me length-wise. Particularly since this is just the first chapter. Hand-written, this thing was…oh…forty-something pages? Normally, my stories are lucky if the entire story is 40 pages! So, yes, this was a stretch.

Oh! For the first paragraph or so, the italics symbolize a sort of prologue…which dumps back into reality later. Anything else in italics is a flashback. Unfortunately, since FF.net doesn't like italics, I'm also using "//" so symbolize flashbacks and the prologue. I also used present tense for flashbacks and past tense for the rest of it. One question: is Arabella Figg a Mrs., Miss, or Ms.?! I don't have a copy of HP handy!!

One last note: this does not follow all five books out. I didn't like The Order of the Phoenix, so I am writing it out for this fanfic. I lied.

Here's a few extra notes: Title subject to change…I don't like the title; I never have, but I didn't want to use "untitled". If you all have suggestions, I'd be happy to take them. Also, there may be slight OOC (Out Of Character) in this fic. I'm sorry, I'm not going to make Snape immediately all lovey-dovey with Harry. It doesn't work that way. I will however, make him a bit gentler towards Harry (at least when they're alone, ne?)

Warnings/Disclaimer: I, Rosethorn, do not own Harry Potter, and have never claimed to. HP belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the wonderful people making money off of it (just not me). Now onto warnings: contains shounen ai/slash/mm relationships. In other words, if you can't stand the thought of two guys kissing/hugging/falling in love/etc, this is not for you. Note: Harry is in fifth/sixth year. It's a student-teacher fic. Have problems, hit the back button.

Pairings: Harry Potter/Severus Snape, others maybe in the future…

Archive: I'm happy with being archived anywhere, just ask first!!

Light and Shadow

By Rosethorn

Chapter 1: Of the Past

            //Memories swirling around in his head, not all of them his own.

            "Who?" he asks the jumbled mass in front of him. "Whose memories are these?" The mass offers no answer, and he growls in frustration.

            "Answer me!" he demands and the jumble quivers. He suddenly finds himself pulled sharply through the swirling vortex and he lands in front of an almost window-like object. The object was showing him something…a memory? Yes, a memory. One of his own, mercifully. From earlier that day in fact. He watches as a teacher berates his class, glaring at one boy with a particular malice. Him.

            "Why are you showing me this?" he asks, clearly puzzled. "How is this supposed to help our current situation?!" The vortex answers by pushing him through the "window", and causing him to relive the memory.

            "Maybe," a soft voice, weary with age, intones after the boy is placed into the memory. "Maybe now they can be together…if young Harry can learn to see past the sourness, and Severus can see past his hurt…"//

            "After yesterday's appalling lack of attentiveness during class, I have decided to give you an in-class assignment that rates as an exam." A glare across the room. "That means that if you don't pay attention, you fail. If you misbrew the potion, you fail."

            Severus Snape was in his element. Not only was he terrifying his students, he had a reasonable excuse to do so, not that lack of a reasonable excuse had stopped him before. He had little patience for "dunderheads" as he called them, and tended to save his rather acerbic wit for those who proved themselves to be rather…inept. So here he was, terrifying students, and threatening to fail them. Life was wonderful. Taking a brief pause to heighten the drama, he made sure that all eyes were on him.

            "You are going to be doing what is called a 'post-cognation' potion—at least," he added with an acidic chuckle. "You will attempt to make one. "For those of you who are too dim-witted to know what 'post-cognation' is," a glare at the Gryffindor side of the dungeon. "It means 'past vision' or 'seeing the past'. Now this potion is different in that it requires a spell to activate it. A true Seer can use it without the incantation, but only after having several years of schooling, something you all can never hope to accomplish." A low rumble from the Gryffindor section. Snape glared in their direction, causing the Slytherins to all snicker. Favoring his house with a slight smirk, Snape continued on with further details of the potion while one Gryffindor started to stare off into space.

            Harry Potter's summer, considering how much his family detested him, was pretty peaceful. Boring even. He had gotten bored enough to read all the textbooks cover to cover, although he still took notes. That summer, the Dursleys had gone on vacation to the south of France (at Petunia's behest), leaving Harry to his own devices—with Mrs. Figg checking in on him every day (to make sure he hadn't destroyed the house, or worse, was enjoying himself in their house!) Bored out of his mind by the second day, the teen decided to pull out his books and read.

            "Might as well get my homework done; there's nothing else to do," he had grumbled the fourth day. Twenty minutes (and lots of lock picking and cursing), later, he had finally gotten his textbooks and homework list out.

            Imagine his surprise when Mrs. Figg dropped by unexpectedly that day, saw what he was working on, and corrected some errors he had missed in his Potions essay! At his persistent questions, she told him that no, she was not a witch, but her sister, Antionetta, was one. Antionetta had, because they were very close, taught Arabella (Mrs. Figg), a great deal whenever Antionetta was home on holiday, and one of Antionetta's passions had been potions. Harry somehow had problems comprehending anyone liking the subject, although Snape, in his rare good moods, would actually be helpful…but just to his Slytherins.

            'Although he has dropped hints about stuff to me before…' Harry thought, somewhat puzzled. 'Why would he do that? Moreover, why would I care why he would do that?!' Coming to no conclusions other than that his potions professor had been hit with a Cruciatus curse one too many times, Harry decided instead to pepper Mrs. Figg with questions, until the woman told Harry that she had run out of things that she remembered from her sister's lessons in Potions. She helped him as best she could with the remainder of his homework, then announced that it was time for a short break, and some tea, where Harry managed to swallow some of her cake…which still tasted strongly of vitamins. After tea, Arabella told Harry to "keep a stiff upper lip" and "not to let those muggles get him down".

            Still bored after her departure, but not brave enough to mess about with the radio or television, he decided to read ahead in his textbooks. "History of Magic" was still incredibly dull, and Harry finally had to read it when he was having difficulties sleeping. "Charms" and "Transfiguration" were both still fairly interesting, although he was having difficulty grasping some of the intricacies of them. "Divination"…now there was a subject he'd wished he'd never taken. Even when he wasn't in Trelawny's class, there still was the feel of "101 Ways to Kill Harry Potter" to the subject. What had surprised him however, was that "Potions" had more of a fascination to him than it did before. Probably due to the fact that the man who taught the class wasn't there, breathing down his neck…Oh boy…

            'Merlin…what is with me lately?! Getting all bothered over a man who's at least twice my age, and one who hates me no less! So down, hormones, down!!' And speaking of greasy haired men—

            "Mr. Potter! While I realize that you will never have the ability to ever comprehend a potion as complicated as this one, I would appreciate you giving me the courtesy of trying to pay attention!" Harry ducked his head and blushed, before realizing that not only did Snape not fail him, the professor did not take off any points!

            'What gives? Maybe he's ill?' Before Harry could think about it further, he heard an explosion three tables in front of him. Snape, noticing as well, gives him one last glare before striding for Seamus' table. Taking advantage of his good fortune, Harry quickly gathered the ingredients needed, and proceeded to prepare them. Fifteen minutes later, his potion had turned mirror-like, proving that Harry had indeed done the potion correctly. Looking up, he saw that he was the first one finished. He decided to watch Snape failing students for incorrect potions, while he waited for the rest of the class to catch up.

            As Severus Snape made his rounds, his thoughts revolved around the incident in class earlier.

            'Why? Why couldn't I seem to fail the brat?!' He mentally cursed, wondering if he was losing his mind. 'He was obviously staring off into space, and I let him off with the same treatment only reserved for my Slytherins! Why?! And then those bloody dreams! I got past those types of dreams by the time I had reached my mid-twenties! So why am I having them now?' Before he realized it, he had stopped in front of the object of his problem's cauldron. Looking down (and making sure to scowl), he noticed the shade of green that Harry's eyes held…and almost emerald color… Snapping himself out of it, he opened his mouth to fail his student, when he noticed the potion. Perfect.

            "It will do," he managed to grind out, walking back to the front of the dungeon, directing his mind firmly back to the matter at hand: his class. He was intent enough on regaining his composure, that he failed to see the green eyes that followed him.

            "Now, for all of you who seemed to have made the potion correctly," a slight smile at the Slytherin side of the room, and another glare for the Gryffindors. "Here is the final test. Ladle a small amount into the dish that you should have gotten from the front here. Tap your wand on the side of the dish and state 'Postas Cognitum', then wait until I have arrived to look into the potion." Harry did as his teacher ordered and, when Snape had finally come to his station, he peered into the dish…

            //Blood. So much blood. Mother? Father? Tristas? Antony? A door opens and "he" stumbles through. Before him lies a room of wreckage, furniture toppled and destroyed…charred in some places. Scorch marks littered the walls liberally, destroying all those paintings Tris had worked for days finishing. In the center of the wreckage lay a battered and broken body, covered in blood.

            "Antony!" he hears "himself" exclaim at the sight of the body of his older brother. Antony is barely breathing, the blood loss and many holes in his body taking their toll.

            "Sev'…go…You must…hurry," Antony manages to gasp out. "Tris…Mother, Father…dead…You…must run." Seeing Harry still stationary, Antony manages to raise his arm, wand still in hand. His arm shakes. "Go," he commands, and Harry feels the compulsion of the words. He falls under the command, mind crying out in anguish as he brother's arm collapses, breathing halted. He keeps running, past more destroyed furniture, paintings, and things he'd rather not identify, and just as he finds himself being pulled roughly out of the vision, he manages to see "his" face in a mirror that somehow wasn't broken, the huge, black eyes of a young and terrified Severus Snape staring back at him.//

            As Harry came back to himself from the vision, he became dimly aware of someone yelling at him. Groggily turning his head, he saw his normally stoic, and taciturn professor actually white-faced, yelling.

            "—50 points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter! I—you—I want you out of my classroom now!! Gather your things and see the Headmaster! Go!!"

            'He's shaking,' Harry noted with a detached amazement. Numbly, he tried to get up and gather his things, succeeding only until he was almost one step away from his station. He saw the floor—moving.

            'Funny, I thought that only the stairs moved up…and…down…' he thought blearily as the floor met him and his vision faded to black. He awoke to see the white walls and smell the clean, medicinal scent of the infirmary—and the sight of Madame Pomfrey's back. He also could hear yelling, outside of the infirmary door, from the sound of it. He concentrated on the yelling and found, to his astonishment, that it seemed to be getting louder. He soon could make out the two voices: one, the dark, world-weary voice of Snape, the other, the softer voice of Headmaster Dumbledore. Concentrating harder, the voices increased in volume, until he could hear Snape's voice as though it were his own.

            "Now, Severus, it can't be that bad," Dumbledore said trying to soothe the irate professor in front of him, and failing miserable, as Snape was still paler than normal, with his eyes pure chips of ice. Snape, who had been fighting a losing battle with his temper, felt his control snap.

            "Not that bad?!" he exclaimed. "Albus! He managed to see someone else's memories in a post-cognation potion designed for individuals!!" Albus Dumbledore merely stared at Severus before smiling slightly, eyes twinkling.

            "Did he indeed, Severus? Whose memories did he see?" Snape gritted his teeth reminding himself that no, killing the older man in front of him would not solve the problem.

            "Mine," he snapped. "A memory of the raid on the Manor—the first one." Dumbledore's eyes grew sadder.

            "Indeed…" he took a breath, seeming to be thinking about something that Severus and Harry could only guess at. It was also around this time that Harry realized that he was seeing out of Severus' eyes. Before he could wonder at it further, Dumbledore began to speak again. "Leave it be fore now, Severus. Harry will be just fine, but there is something I need to look in on." The twinkle increased, much to Snape's chagrin. He glared at the older wizard's back as Dumbledore walked away.

            'Meddling old coot,' he thought sourly. Harry felt himself send a reply before he could stop himself.

            'Is not!' Snape stopped cold, hearing a voice resound in his head…Potter's voice.

            'What?! How—why—100 points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter! And get out of my head!' Snape stormed into the infirmary, past a rather shocked Madame Pomfrey, directly to where Harry's bed lay. The teen in question looked up at him, emerald eyes wide, and confused. Snape once again squashed the tender feelings beginning to stir towards his wayward student.

            'I—I don't know how I got into your head, sir,' Harry whispered both aloud and mentally.

            "You—" the professor stuttered, for once at a loss for words, and scared beyond belief. With a heavy sigh, he somehow flopped gracefully into the chair next to Harry's bed.

            'Bloody hell,' he moaned internally. 'I'm stuck with "The Insufferable Prat Who Bloody Lived"—wait. Albus should be able to fix this…Although he was looking like Mrs. Norris does when she's found children out of bed…'

            "Do you really hate me so much?" Harry asked quietly. He did so aloud, out of respect for the other man, although he could still hear Snape's rather less than flattering thoughts concerning him. He shrank a bit as Snape glared at him.

            "Would you want someone rummaging around in your head, Potter?" Seeing Harry's now-downcast head, he gives a malicious smile. "No, I thought not." With that, Snape forced himself up and started walking towards the door of the infirmary, trying to ignore the fact that his body was still trying to stay with the boy, his heart yelling at him to soothe what hurt he'd caused.

            'Bloody bad enough that I have those damn dreams, particularly since they involve a student in a rather compromising position with someone who was a year-mate in school with his father! Now I have to deal with seeing him, wanting to cosset him…hell, just wanting him!' Making sure there were no students or staff present on his journey to Dumbledore's office, Severus leaned against a wall and sighed, running a hand through his hair.

            'If I may ask…' Snape jumped slightly as the very hesitant voice in his head.

            'What now, Potter?' He "heard" a gulp in response.

            'Um…If I may ask about the dreams, sir…' Snape flushed. 'I…er…It's silly really, professor. Forget I said anything.' Snape's curiosity, once he had regained his composure, was piqued.

            'Please, Potter, continue,' he said. Still hearing nothing coming from the teen, he sighed. 'Potter, sometimes things that seem ridiculous can actually be the things that matter the most,' he added, feeling somewhat charitable, although he knew he sounded somewhat annoyed as well.

            'Er…I um…this is going to sound ludicrous…I've been…I'vebeenhavingdreamsaboutyoutoo.' Snape arched an eyebrow.

            'Potter, I am fluent in English, French, and Latin, not "rushed mumble". Care to repeat that slower and clearer?' In the infirmary, Harry thought he was going to burst a blood vessel, he was blushing so badly.

            'Did I just hear you make a joke?' he asked, desperately trying to change the subject. Unfortunately for him, Snape appeared to see through it.

            'I did, and you're changing the subject. Now, what was it you said?' Harry sighed.

            'I've…well…been having dreams about you too…ever since I turned sixteen really…' He felt the surprise coming from his potions professor. 'Professor?'

            'W-when was your sixteenth birthday, Potter?'

            'July 31st. Professor, I know this is going to sound stupid, but why?' Snape gulped. 'Professor?'

            'Forget it, Potter. Just drop it.' Shaking his head in an effort to dispel his thoughts as well as try to shake the other's voice out of his head, Snape continued his journey to Dumbledore's office. Upon reaching the gargoyle, he puzzled through his brain, trying to remember what the password was.

            'Oh damn and blast, what was it?!'

            "Butterbeer," a voice said behind him. Severus whirled, wand trained to…Albus'…head.

            'Oh dear.' Albus, for his part, was not even phased. He walked calmly toward the stairs revealed.

            "You wanted to see me about something, Severus?" Snape quickly snapped down his wand.

            "Er—yes," he replied, quickly following the older wizard, cheeks slightly pink. As they reached Dumbledore's office, Severus waited patiently for the headmaster to sit before he, himself, took his own seat.

            "Are there any new side-effects to the potion that I need to be aware of, Severus?" the older wizard asked, getting out some papers needing to be looked over, eyes twinkling all the while.

            'Bloody hell. He's got that twinkle in his eyes. The one that says "I know something you don't",' Snape inwardly moaned. Previous experiences warned him that whatever it was that Dumbledore knew, Severus was going to hate it. He remembered well what happened the last time Albus had that twinkle. 'I wonder if Trelawny has gotten over her fear of cannabis tea yet…'

            "Yes," he replied, forcing himself back to the matter at hand. "Harry seems to have developed a form of telepathy—hopefully temporary." He braced himself for the inevitable.

            "Really?" Albus mused, his surprise sounding feigned to the potions master. "Well, let's hope that it wears off soon. Now, this telepathy, is it just with you, or can he talk mentally to everyone?" Severus frowned.

            'Potter,' he silently called.

            'Professor?' came the hesitant response. Snape promptly ignored all feelings of heat that his body came up with in answer to that voice.

            'Can you speak like this to everyone?' He heard an unfocused, garbled bit of sound before the reply that no, Severus was the only one he could talk to. Lovely.

            'That will be all,' Severus said sourly, ignoring once again, the pang of guilt at the boy's flash of anger and hurt. He looked back up at the headmaster, who was, he noted, watching with undisguised amusement.

            "Just myself," he answered shortly. Albus' twinkling increased.

            "Two-way, I'm assuming," the headmaster responded, making the raven-haired man before him increasingly uncomfortable.

            "It would appear so," Severus replied, wondering just how long Albus was going to keep him in suspense.

            "Ah," was the only reply he received, as Albus started to work on the papers in front of him once more. Severus' patience, never very good to begin with, snapped.

            "All right, Albus. Out with it. What are you not telling me?" Had anyone else been present, the raven-haired man would have phrased the question much more respectfully, but Albus had already told him that when it was just them, he could drop the formalities. The older wizard in question merely glanced up briefly, eyes dancing behind half-moon spectacles.

            "Not telling you something, Severus? Whatever do you mean?" Severus clenched his teeth, reminding himself again that no, he was not allowed to kill the man before him, even when Dumbledore was being insufferable.

            'Not to mention that then you'll never know what the headmaster is planning,' he heard Potter snicker. He restrained himself from smiling at the comment.

            'I'm too damn bubbly. What the hell is wrong with me?!' He opted to just rid himself of the source of his current dilemma—well, rid himself as well as he could.

            'Get out of my head, Mr. Potter, or you will be serving detentions with Filch for the rest of the year!' A small "eep" was heard, then nothing; blissful silence. Severus gave a soft sigh of relief, as well as felt a certain amount of dark amusement. He glanced at Albus again—who was still bent over those papers. Resigning himself to the fact that the insane, annoyingly cheerful headmaster was not going to give him any answers, Severus stood to leave.

            "Leaving so soon, Severus?" came that "all-knowing" voice at the desk.

            "I do have classes to teach, Albus," he retorted, allowing some of his annoyance to show. Nodding, Albus motioned to the long-haired man to sit back down.

            "I'll have another teacher fill in for you, Severus." The potions master could only stare in shock. Dumbledore, seeing Severus still standing and almost resembling a fish, he motioned again to the chair. "Do sit down Severus." Snape, managing to get some of his surprise locked down, quickly complied.

            "Now, if you would please, Severus, invite Mr. Potter to listen to the conversation through you, as I only want to go through the explanation once." Snape grimaced, but complied.

            'Potter.' Annoyance filled the link, flowing from Harry.

            'Yes?'

            'Don't start with me, boy. I have very little patience, and I would love to fail you right now. Don't tempt me further!' Snape shot back acidly.

            'Don't call me that,' came the quiet response.

            'Pardon?'

            'Don't call me "boy".' Snape shook his head.

            'I fail to see what that has to do with anything. Now the headmaster is waiting…' He heard Harry sigh.

            'Sorry, professor.' Snape gave a mental sneer.

            'I'm sure,' he replied dryly. 'In any rate,' he continued before Harry could protest. 'You need to listen through me to what Dumbledore has to say.' He allowed the feeling of annoyance and frustration flood through the link. He could feel Potter bristle, which caused part of him to feel smug and part of him to feel guilty. He opted for smug.

            'Fine, I'm listening. Can we get this over with?'

            '20 points from Gryffindor for insolence, Mr. Potter, and I will raise it to 40 if I hear another word,' Snape replied smoothly. He felt a flash of indignation and anger, but the teen gave no further response. Looking up at Albus, he nodded sharply, indicating that Harry was indeed listening.

            "What I have here," Albus began, gesturing to the papers on his desk. "Are documents about the post-cognation potion that your class was making. There have been reported cases, though few, of what happened today, although it has never happened between a student and a teacher. Fascinating really." The headmaster paused, trying to find the most delicate way of continuing.

            "What was the cause, pray tell?" Snape asked dryly.

            "The cause. Yes, well," Dumbledore continued. "It was later discovered that the two students or adults in question were bonded." He cheerfully pretended not to notice his potions professor's white complexion as he proceeded. "Tea, Severus?" No response came, as Severus was trying his best not to destroy everything in sight.

            'Bonded?! To Potter no less!!' Harry faced a similar whirling of emotions and thoughts. As they both kept on denying the bond's existence, the bond started to feel strained. Noticing this, Dumbledore discreetly waved a hand, causing Severus and Harry's thoughts and emotions to merge, which started a small "storm". Harry was the first to realize what was happening.

            'We—how—bond—Snape!' He reached out towards Snape, trying to regain their equilibrium. He hoped that by doing this, the storm would ease, and he and Snape could sort through all the information, hopefully not killing each other in the process. He found himself, instead, being sucked into a vortex, and quickly blacked out.

            'It's dark,' was Harry's first thought as he came to. 'Peaceful here, too…kind of; wherever "here" is,' was the second. 

            "Who are you?" he heard a small voice ask. Looking around, he saw a small figure approach him. A young boy, who looked startlingly familiar. Thick, black hair reaching slim shoulders, slightly hooked nose—though not as bent, leading Harry to wonder if this child's older counterpart broke it at some point.

            "Who are you?" the young Severus Snape asked again, dark eyes wide and slightly fearful of the teen in front of him. Harry swallowed before speaking.

            "Harry Potter," he said softly, slowly reaching a hand out, so as not to frighten the child further. Severus grasped the hand tentatively.

            "Severus Snape," came the shyly spoken response. Harry smiled gently at him, reminded of how he, himself, was when he was younger.

            'Although it's hard to think of Snape that way.'

            "Well, pro—erm—Severus, do you know where we are?" The long-haired child tilted his head before nodding slowly.

            "I think we're in my sub-sub—" Harry raised his eyebrows.

            "Subconscious?" he asked, shocked that the child before him knew what the subconscious was. Severus nodded and smiled tentatively.

            "Are you going to stay long?" Harry noted the wistfulness in the child's voice.

            'Guess Snape didn't have any other family growing up…'

            "I—I'm not sure," he found himself stammering out. Noting the child's fallen face, he hurriedly added: "I'll stay as long as I possibly can." He was once again taken by surprise at Severus' smile.

            'I still can't believe that this boy is Snape…the snarky, caustic potions professor.'

            'Don't forget sexy,' "it" added. Harry mentally rolled his eyes.

            'No,' he replied dryly. 'Musn't forget sexy.' Severus, seeing Harry grow quieter, grew edgy, himself. Harry quickly noticed, and immediately felt like a criminal.

            "Um…" he began, unsure of what to say.

            "Brilliant opening line there, Potter; your skills with eloquence astound me," a very acerbic and very familiar voice broke in. Harry's head shot up.

            "P-Professor?!" Looking around wildly, Harry saw no change in the blackness around him and— "Wait, is that you, Professor?" he asked, looking at the smaller version of his teacher in front of him. He heard a derisive snort.

            "Potter, you have managed to fully merge our minds and emotions—although I'm not sure how you managed to do it. You also managed to do so in my body, I might add, so therefore you are hearing my from all around, not just the me in front of you. That me is about six years old." Harry blushed at the dressing-down. His blush quickly paled as he saw the younger Snape vanish.

            "Erm—yes…' Trying to distract himself from the unnerving darkness, he strained to find something else to talk about—anything else.

            'Hm…an apology might work. It'd at least keep him talking for a few more minutes…'

            "Sorry about that," the green-eyed boy tentatively ventured. He heard another derisive snort before the rather uncomfortable feeling of Snape's presence leaving. "Wait!" he yelled.

            "What is it now, Potter?! I want to go try to fix this problem, if you don't mind," Snape snapped irritably.

            'Er…"

            'Is it just my imagination, or am I being glared at,' Harry thought to himself nervously.

            "Yes?" Snape's voice dripped with sarcasm. Harry flushed.

            "Erm…that—that vision I saw in the potion…"

            "What about it?" Harry winced at the harsh tone.

            "What happened?" Silence greeted him. "Professor?"

            "Auror raid," Snape replied flatly, tone clearly stating to drop the issue.

            "Auror's raid?" Harry repeated, confused. "But—" Snape broke in before he could finish his sentence.

            "It doesn't matter, Mr. Potter. Leave it," the raven-haired potions master ordered coldly. "Now I am going to go find a way to get you out of me." The dark, black expanse that Harry was in suddenly felt oppressively empty, as Snape's presence left. Harry, slightly claustrophobic from all those years in his relative's cupboard under the stairs, began to feel more and more uneasy. Just when he thought he could bear it no longer, he felt a sudden outpouring of love and comfort—from Snape. Harry couldn't believe that the comfort he was receiving came from the one man who hated him almost as much as Voldemorte.

            'This comfort,' he thought to himself. 'I've felt this before…the same kind, the same "feel" to it.' Up until now, he had always assumed that it was memories of his parents and the feelings that they dredged up that comforted him. He began to remember one of the times he felt that comfort…

            //"Boy!" Harry quickly hurries down the stairs from cleaning up his cousin's second bedroom. When Uncle Vernon bellows, you run. He soon comes to a halt in front of his uncle who also has his cousin with him. Immediately Harry grows cold.

            'Oh no…what lies has Dudley been telling Uncle now?' He doesn't wait long to find out.

            "Dudley here tells me that you've been insulting him and making fun of him at school, boy. Is that true?" Harry quickly shakes his head. Wrong move. Vernon's eyes narrow further. "So you're calling my son a liar, eh?!" He starts turning red. Harry's eyes grow even wider. He realizes the trap that he is in. He shakes his head "no".

            "N-no, Uncle Vernon…" Vernon's face begins to grow red.

            "Then you're the lying one! Do you know what we do with liars here, boy? We lock them in their room—" Vernon grabs Harry's ear and drags him over to the cupboard under the stairs. He opens the door and throws Harry in. "And then they stay in their room without supper or breakfast!" He slams the door and locks it, going into the kitchen to inform his wife about his their horrible, lying nephew. Dudley looks at the door in glee, but waits until his father is safely in the kitchen before pouncing.

            "Ha, ha, Potter! Serves you right for being a freak!" He quickly runs to the kitchen, crocodile tears firmly in place. Harry sits on his bed, sniffling.

            "Happy birthday to me…" he whispers sadly. "Mum? Dad? Why did you have to die in that car crash?" Trying not to cry, he thinks about his parents and what life would be like if they were still alive—or at least, he tries to imagine. As always, the thought of his parents brings comfort to him. It sometimes even worked when he wasn't thinking about them! Keeping that comfort firmly in mind, the 8-year-old Harry curls up on his bed, and falls asleep.//

            'All that time…it was Snape. No wonder it worked even when I didn't think happy thoughts!' As he had in the past, he grabbed tightly to the comfort Snape was offering. He found himself focusing on the sender and quickly found himself out of the darkness—and staring down at a book? He could feel Snape focusing hard on whatever it was in front of him.

            'Neat! I can see though his eyes!' he thought before realizing that his "bondmate" was so engrossed in the book, that he hadn't noticed sending comfort to Harry. 'So it was always without his knowledge…' Harry thought with wonder. Still feeling slightly giddy at the realization that someone cared about him, and not his status, Harry decided to try to see what his bondmate was reading.

            'Ugh! It's all in Latin!' he mentally exclaimed with dismay. He decided to look at the pictures instead…and shuddered at those.

            "Reading over my shoulder, Potter? Don't tell me you actually are trying to understand this!" a dry voice drawled, causing Harry to start. He "glared" at Snape.

            'Do I detect a slight bit of humor?' he wondered internally. He decided to risk it.

            "Nah, just looking at the 'pretty' pictures," he replied cheerfully, making sure to emphasize "pretty", as the pictures were rather gruesome in reality. He felt a wave of amusement before it vanished suddenly.

            "So, Hogwart's 'Golden Boy' admits he can't do everything?" Snape asked sardonically. Harry bristled.

            "I never claimed to be good at everything. If I was, Voldemorte would be dead by now!" he snapped.

            "Careful, Potter," Snape retorted, acidly. "We may be bonded by some freak accident, but I am still your professor, and deserve the respect for that position." A wave of sulleness is shot at the older man. Severus chose to ignore it in favor of more important matters. "In any rate, Potter, it says here that you have to choose to leave."

            "Choose to leave? I never chose to be here!" Harry exclaimed. Snape restrained himself from allowing a flash of hurt to show.

            'That brat's opinions have never mattered to me before, why now?' Unbeknownst to him, Harry felt the small flash. He immediately felt sorry for what he had said.

            'Well…here goes nothing,' he thought, as he tried to send his apology via their bond—with emotions. He felt a slight bit of surprise.

            "Enough of that, Potter," Snape hurriedly said, although he let a bit of affection drift through. Snape got up and walked towards the infirmary. Harry, feeling the bit of affection, smiled slightly, which unnerved Snape, as he had just walked into the room where the teen's body was in time to see the prone figure smile as well. "Here, Potter," Snape began, eager to get Harry out of his body. It had been a long day. "Look through my eyes. You're right in front of me." He felt a slight disorienting sensation as Harry looked through his eyes.

            "Feels like someone's just stepped on my grave," the teen said, shuddering.

            "Lovely imagery," Snape muttered. Harry gave another slight smile, and was unnerved, along with Snape, at his body's reaction. A pulling sensation began and increased, and soon Harry felt himself losing sight of his body from Snape's eyes. He suddenly found himself in his own body again. Sighing inwardly with relief, he opened his eyes slowly, the scowling visage of Snape being the first thing to greet his eyes.

            "Gah!" he exclaimed, and quickly closed his eyes, therefore missing the surprised look on Severus' face.

            'Scaaaaaaaary man. Scary, scary, scary man,' Harry thought, uknowingly seding his thoughts to said "scary man".

            'I'm glad something in this world scares you, Potter,' was the dry retort. It took a minute for the teen to realize that the man was teasing.

            'Careful, professor. One might think that you have a sense of humor,' Harry ventured. He nearly fainted when he heard the normally dour man chuckle softly. He opened his eyes and nearly had a coronary at the sight of the potions master smiling softly. He felt a shiver descend down his spine at the sight and the sound.

            'Oh hell! Now is not the time, hormones!! Down! Down, I say!!' Finally willing his hormones into submission, he took another minute to appreciate the softer appearance of the man before him. The lines in Severus' face—many of them from the years of spying for the cause of the Light—seemed to fade away. At least, many of them faded.

            'You should laugh more often,' Harry thought to his professor, not wanting to risk saying the words aloud.  Snape stared at him, an eyebrow raised. Harry blushed and stared at his own hands, which where resting on his lap. He was saved from saying anything further, and more embarrassment, by Poppy Pomfrey.

            "Any change?" the mediwitch asked before coming within view of the pair. Upon arriving, her eyes lit upon Harry. "Oh! You're awake!" She immediately bustled over to check the "poor dear" (much to the dismay of Harry and the amusement of Snape), for any injuries, external or internal.

            "Everything appears to be normal," she said at last.

            "Or as normal as I ever am," Harry replied ironically. Severus smiled slightly at that, while Madame Pomfrey chuckled.

            "True indeed," she replied cheerfully, before informing the bonded pair that she wanted to keep Harry overnight for observation. "If everything appears to be fine tomorrow as well, then Harry will be discharged." Severus nodded abruptly and excused himself, quickly exiting the room—much to the dismay of the teen on the bed.

            "That man," the mediwitch muttered, causing Harry's head to shoot up in surprise. "He always did avoid emotional outbursts."

            "Madame Pomfrey?" he asked. She shook her head, signally Harry to dismiss what he had heard. He decided a different topic was in order. "Um…I don't mean to sound ungrateful, or snobbish, or anything, but you seem to be awfully calm about me being unconscious and the bond and everything…" he trailed off, looking at her uncertainly. She smiled somewhat dreamily.

            "Oh, I was newly bonded once," she replied, eyes still somewhat starry. "So I remember some of the effects." She chuckled softly. "Particularly since I resisted bonding with all my strength. We were just nothing alike, not to mention we had just graduated, and I was headed off to finish my mediwitch training."

            "So what happened?" Harry asked, caught up in the story. Madame Pomfrey immediately sobered.

            "Well, she refused to believe that she was bonded with me of all people, and so as we denied the existence of the bond, the more it pulled—until we both ended up in the infirmary with comas, much like you did." Harry, looking confused, opened his mouth to ask another question. Before he could voice it, the older woman held up a hand.

            "Wait, let me guess. You want to know why you were the only one under a coma." At the teen's nod, she chuckled again. "Our Severus is a bit older than you, Harry. He consequently has more years training. Mind, he would have been next to you in another hour or so, but it's the years and training that keep you from falling into the coma." Harry nodded slowly, information sinking in.

            "Um…if I may ask, Madame Pomfrey, do you live apart from your bondmate now?" Madame Pomfrey blushed, then said that she needed to go check on other patients.

            'You have no sense of tact at all, do you, Potter?' Harry heard Snape drawl in his head.

            'So you yell at me about snooping in minds, but it's all right for you to do so yourself. How very…Slytherin of you,' Harry shot back, bristling. He felt anger radiating back at him.

            'It is possible to create negative points, Potter,' Snape spat. 'Just as it is possible to delay graduation until your detentions are finished. Keep that in mind.'

            'Yes, but if you keep me here longer after graduation, that's more time you'll have to spend with me,' Harry replied falsely sweet. Snape gritted his teeth.

            'Never fear, Potter, I'm sure Filch would be delighted to take care of those overdue detentions.'

            'You just don't like it when someone calls you on being unfair,' Harry mentally sneered.

            'Since when has life in general been fair, you insufferable child?!' Snape exclaimed, temper quickly fraying. Harry, his battle with his temper being lost, ignored the warning, as he had all the one's previous.

            'Yes, but you don't have to make it worse by persecuting and punishing the world for your failings and hurts! I'm not my father, Severus Snape, nor am I my godfather, or Remus Lupin, or that damn rat!! I'm Harold James Potter!! I have no control over what happened in the past! The least you can do is grow up and face reality!' He yelled back. 'And maybe then you'll be able to teach worth a damn to someone other than Draco Malfoy,' Harry concluded, breathing hard. Snape had grown very quiet, and Harry could feel nothing through their bond.

            'Coward,' he sneered, not knowing that he had wounded Snape quite effectively. For years, Severus Snape had loved potions. When he first began teaching as a cover for being with Dumbldore, he had hoped to pass on a least a small fraction of his passion to his students—even those goody-two-shoes Gryffindors.

            'Where did that become apathy? When did I stop caring?' Yes, he was not "warm and fuzzy" by nature, but he had, for the longest time, prided himself on being reasonably fair—except with Gryffindors…He had, in fact, punished the children and grandchildren of those who persecuted him. Children who could no more control the actions of their parents than the ocean could control the pull of the lunar tides. Remembering all the students over the years he had taught who had looked at him with loathing and hatred…those same eyes staring blankly at him, their light forever snuffed by a madman that Severus had joined; had created potions that murdered millions for. A lone tear drifted down one pale cheek in regret as Severus reached his quarters.

            'Congratulations, Potter,' he uttered bitterly. 'You've won your first argument.' Hearing the words, Harry didn't feel a sense of satisfaction at all. He again sent a wave of apology, only to be viciously rebuffed by the older man.

            'You've done quite enough, Potter!' he snapped before withdrawing as much as he could from their bond, and shielding Harry out the rest of the way. After having the man in the back of his mind for nearly a day, the abrupt departure made Harry feel very much alone.

            Eternities later, or so it seemed, the stress from the day caught up with the teen, and he fell into a fitful sleep. All too soon however, he was awoken by a disgustingly awake, alert, and chipper Madame Pomfrey.

            "Rise and shine, dear!" Harry groaned into his pillow at the voice.

            "G'way," he muttered intelligently. Madame Pomfrey merely laughed and pulled the blankets down.

            "Up! You're being discharged in time for classes." After some prodding, coaxing, and threatening, Harry was finally out of bed, dressed, and on his way to the Great Hall for breakfast. He was quickly greeted by twin shouts and a blur of red and brown.

            "Harry!!" Ron and Hermione both exclaimed, running over to their friend.

            "Oh, Harry, we were so worried! We tried to see you in the infirmary, but we were tuned away every time!" Hermione said, hugging Harry tightly, while Ron just patted the teen's shoulder.

            "Good to see you back on your feet, mate," the redhead said heartily. As they proceeded to the Gryffindor table, he pulled the black-haired boy's ear close.

            "And when we get back to the common room, I. Want. Details!" he whispered, grinning. Harry flashed a weak smile before sitting down.

            'How am I going to explain all this to Ron and 'Mione?' Harry thought to himself, trying to mentally stave off a headache.

            As breakfast progressed, he felt a decidedly unfriendly stare upon him. Not looking up, he turned towards Ron, who had paused from eating.

            "Is Severus staring at me?" Harry heard Hermione choke on her pumpkin juice, and wondered what it was that happened.

            "Who?" Ron asked, giving his friend a strange look.

            "Snape," Harry replied. "Is he staring at me?" Ron shook his head slightly before nodding.

            "Yes, although 'glaring' would be a more accurate term." The redhead paused. "And since when have you been on a first-name basis with the greasy git anyway?"

            "He's not greasy," Harry replied absently, wondering how he was going to get Snape to forgive him. He was deep enough in thought that he missed Hermione's stare, which quickly changed to a thoughtful expression.

            'Then again, why should I care?' his inner monologue continued on the subject of Snape. 'He's made my life hell since day one!! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape stiffen. Ron noticed as well, and shot his best friend a concerned look.

            "Um…Harry…his glaring just got worse," Ron whispered. Harry winced.

            'Lovely,' he thought grimly. 'Just bloody locely.'

            "—pared, Harry?" Harry's mind pulled from its laments in time to hear Hermione's last question.

            "Pardon?" She rolled her eyes and repeated the question.

            "I said 'we have double Potions with Slytherin today. Are you prepared?' Honestly, Harry," she continued while the green-eyed boy tried to ignore his butterfly-d, sinking stomach. "You'll fail Potions if you continue to just stare off into space!"

            "Sorry, 'Mione," Harry replied sheepishly. "Although I think I'll end up failing anyways. Snape absolutely detests me!" A hush fell over the Gryffindor table and Harry felt his spine prickle.

            "He's right behind me, isn't he?" he muttered and Ron nodded cautiously. "Figures." He slowly turned around and looked up to see the scowling visage of his bondmate.

            "Mr. Potter." Harry smiled weakly.

            "Professor?" Snape leveled a glare at the teen. Harry "eep-d" softly.

            "I understand that you are afraid of failing my class," he stated with an almost sneer. "However, let me assure that if you fail—which from your attentiveness as of late, I find likely—it will be by your own thoughtlessness! Not my opinion of you!!" The potions master was now beginning to turn red with fury.

            'Wonder if he has blood pressure problems,' Harry thought idly. Severus suddenly paled and his glare intensified further. Harry swallowed audibly.

            "Well then, Mr. Potter," the man said in a very calm, quiet, and very deadly voice. "To prevent your failing, I will tutor you. You will come to the Potions classroom at seven o'clock every night, after dinner, until I deem you fit." He turned to leave and gave one final withering look to the rest of the table.

            'Oh and, Potter?' Harry head in his head as Snape was crossing the Great Hall. 'Do try to be on time to class today. We wouldn't want you to get detention on top of your tutoring…would we?'

            "Prat," the teen muttered under his breath, head sinking down into his arms. "I'm doomed."

            "Harry!" Hermione scolded. "He's your professor!" But she found herself inwardly agreeing. She had also noticed that the headmaster had put an arm on professor McGonagall's arm to stop her from interfering between the rather public display. She quickly turned back to Harry and Ron, who was rolling his eyes at her.

            "Come off it, 'Mione," Ron sighed. "He is a prat. Although I would have used 'git' myself, Harry." Harry found himself fighting off a feeling of anger at Ron's words.

            'What are you doing?! You always thought Snape was a git before! Why the sudden change?'

            'The fact that you're bonded might have something to do with it,' his subconscious stated dryly. Harry gave a mental snort.

            'We've been "bonded" for years. Why the sudden change now?' His mind gave no answer. He was about to start congratulating himself for finally winning a battle with "it", when a dry voice interrupted.

            'Must you be so loud, Potter?' Snape drawled, and Harry found himself turning pink.

            'Yeah, yeah. Sorry.' A hand clapped down on his shoulder stopped any further communication.

            "Harry? You all right, mate?" Ron asked. Harry jumped at the feeling of the hand on his shoulder.

            "Um…yeah, Ron, I'm fine. Really," he added at the redhead's skeptical look Ron finally shrugged.

            "If you say so." By then, breakfast was drawing to a close, and Harry's nervous, sinking stomach worsened as he, Ron, and Hermione headed to the dungeons for Potions. It looked to be the start of a very long day. He soon found that he wasn't far off…

            "Another ten points, Mr. Longbottom for whining!" It was Potions, and Harry winced yet again at another ten points deducted from his house. Snape was in a particularly bad mood, making him particularly insufferable. In all honesty, Harry was surprised that points weren't being deducted for breathing. By the end of that class, Harry felt as though he'd been wrung through the wringer—twice. It didn't help that his next class was Divination, where the room was hot and stuffy—not to mention that the incense that hung in the air was so thick that Harry found it hard to breathe around his sneezing.

            'Let's not forget the fact that she decided to do more advanced readings with crystal balls today.' Which had, as always, ended with Trelawney predicting Harry's death. The class had ended early due to her "great distress" at "seeing" him die. 'I wonder if she ever gives real predictions,' Harry thought to himself sourly, as he walked from dinner to his tutoring with Snape. After a moment's pause, he concluded that she probably did not. 'Except there was that one time last year…' Shaking his head and deciding to forget the matter entirely, he mentally ran through the rest of his day.

            After Divination found him almost asleep in his history class.

            'Bet Professor Binns even could make good, old Voldie boring.'

            DADA hadn't been too bad. Professor Helena Goodwright knew what she was doing, and also managed to make it interesting.

            'Although this week's "werewolves" again.' His reflection was cut short as he reached the dungeons and, more specifically, the Potions classroom. He tentatively knocked on the door, bracing himself for the evening ahead.

            "Enter," he heard Snape order. He opened the door and stopped short at the sight before him.

            Various vials and bottles lay all over one desk, while a large, thick book sat propped up behind. Snape, himself, was busy mixing a potion in the cauldron in front of him, towards the front of the room. The dark-haired man's head briefly came up. He sneered at Harry, then let his gaze drop back to the potion.

            "Don't just stand there, Potter! Come in and close the door!" Harry sighed and did as ordered. "Get your textbook out."

            "Yes, professor." He quickly found a desk and set up his cauldron and textbook. Then waited…and waited. When Snape finally finished what he was working on (and Harry definitely didn't want to know what it was), he turned to the teen and raised an eyebrow.

            "I see that you're not completely incompetent, Potter." He gestured to the cauldron, and the paltry amount of supplies that Harry had on hand. "Before we begin however, I must ask you this: why has your already divided attention span shortened further in my class?" Harry stared at him. Snape's somewhat gentler visage turned more towards a scowl.

            'I'm waiting, Potter,' he snapped mentally, causing the shocked emerald-eyed boy to jump.

            "Er…"

            "Wonderful command of the Queen's English, Potter," Snape commented dryly, face lightening a bit. It took Harry a few moments of indignation before realizing the teasing in his bondmate's voice.

            "He jokes around," the teen muttered. "He's not glaring. You'd think I'd have noticed Hell freezing over…" He did almost die of a heart attack however, when Severus threw back his head and laughed. Deciding to push his luck, Harry then acted out a very dramatic (and very fake) death scene in which, to his amazement, caused the potions master to laugh harder. As he cautiously opened his eyes, Severus' laughter subsided, but there was still a smile on the normally dour man's face, although slight. Harry gave a small, shy smile in return.

            'Um…sir?' Harry ventured mentally.

            'Potter?' Snape replied. The teen quickly lost his nerve.

            'Never mind.' Snape sighed and massaged his temples.

            "Very well, Potter. As amusing as all this is, you did not answer my previous question, not to mention that we do need to begin this healing potion if you are ever to learn it." Harry ducked his head and mumbled out an answer. "Again, Mr. Potter, I specialize in the languages of English, French, and Latin, not 'mumble'. So if you would care to repeat that so I can understand it?" Harry's head came back up to give the older man a glare.

            "My relatives were gone all summer so I read the textbook, along with every other one of my textbooks."

            "You were alone all summer, Potter?" Snape asked raising a disbelieving eyebrow. Harry rolled his eyes.

            "Yes, alone," he said slowly, as if speaking to a small—and not very bright—child. Snape's face began to darken. "My relative went vacationing in Scotland."

            "Then you should have no problems with this potion, Potter," Snape bit out, his glare every bit as intense as his counterpart.

            "Harry," the teen interjected suddenly, his nerve from earlier returning. Snape paused in mid-gesture.

            "Pardon?"

            "Er…we're bonded, right?" Harry worried his lower lip as he awaited Snape's response. Snape shook his head slightly, trying to follow the strange turn the conversation was headed.

            "Unfortunately yes. I fail to see why that should change what I call you." Harry sighed.

            "I just thought I'd be…well…nice if we were on friendly terms is all." Seeing his professor's blank expression, he sighed again. "Just…forget I said anything," he muttered and turned to his textbook. "It was a stupid idea anyway." Through the bond Severus felt the stab of frustration and hurt that Harry's voice hid. Coming to a decision to make a compromise for the sake of this tutoring session, Snape approached the teen.

            "Well then…Harry," he said, stumbling on the name. Harry's head snapped up and he stared at the man before him in such a way that Severus felt increasingly uncomfortable. He glared. "Don't get any ideas, Potter," he snapped irritably. "I'm still a 'greasy git', if I've heard the term correctly."

            'And here I thought you were mellowing in your old age,' Harry thought to himself sarcastically. He was unnerved to see Severus' glare intensify, as he smiled—without humour.

            "I don't 'mellow', Potter, as the day I mellow in these times is the day I decide to die at the hands of that lunatic!" Seeing the teen's surprised expression, he bit out sarcastically. "I will say again, Potter. Must you think so loud?" Harry hung his head.

            "Sorry," he mumbled. Snape, looking a bit mollified, nodded sharply. They stood that way for a few more moments more before Harry glanced at his textbook. "I need ingredients to make this potion, professor."

            "I know that!" the older man snapped, and Harry inwardly cringed.

            'Yet another wrong move…' he thought to himself as Snape went to get the needed ingredients. He was beginning to feel slightly ill, but blamed it on all the tension.

            "Incidentally, Potter," Snape's voice floated from the storage room where the ingredients were kept. It was also, coincidentally, the same place Hermione had gotten the broomslang skin in second year, and Dobby the gillyweed in fourth.

            'Ah memories.' While off in his memories, he failed to notice Snape return out of the storage room, ingredients in hand, explaining why Harry really had tutoring sessions. Snape, noticing that Harry was, yet again, not paying attention, almost dropped the vials and bottles he was holding in fury.

            'I spend all this time trying to make sure that he doesn't get himself killed, even go to bloody Dumbledore for permission to teach him these advanced potions, and he completely ignores anything and everything I have to say!' Storming over to the unaware teen, robes billowing, he made a rather dramatic entrance as Harry came out of his thoughts.

            "Have you been listening to a word I've been saying, boy?!" Harry jumped at the angry voice. Looking up guiltily, he winced to see his bondmate's angry visage staring back down at him.

            "Sorry, sir." That was the proverbial straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

            "You're always sorry, Potter! One of these days those 'sorry's of yours are going to come after someone has died because of your obliviousness! Most likely someone trying to protect you from your own stupidity!" Harry, cringing with every word had, by the end of the tirade, sunk as low as he possibly could in his chair, chin resting about even with the desk's edge. He felt more and more ill as the rant went on and slowly found himself slipping away into unconsciousness once more. Snape, wrapped up in his tirade continued on, causing Harry to fall farther and farther.

            "Severus!" a shout came from the other side of the door. It flung open sharply, a furious Madame Hooch revealed.

            "Xiomara," Snape gritted out. "I am in the middle of something—" She stalked towards him, hair bristling.

            "Like hell!" she snapped. "I could feel the emotions all the way from my rooms! What on earth do you think you are doing?!" Snape scowled.

            "Merely telling this boy—"

            "That's not just any 'boy' you—" Xiomara interrupted, starting to turn white with fury. Snape, himself, was beginning to resemble a similar pallor.

            "He may be 'The-Boy-Who-Lived', but—"

            "He's your bondmate, you blustering peabrain!" Xiomara yelled, tired of the dark-haired man's bitterness. "You're bondmate!! And you—"

            "Xiomara?" came a worried voice from the door. Hooch turned, face softening briefly before darkening again in rage.

            "Poppy, look what he's done to Harry!!" she exclaimed, gesturing to the comatose boy at the desk. With a soft cry, the mediwitch ran past the irate potions master. She looked all over the boy and finally looked up, eyes showing icy anger.

            "Bond shock," she stated flatly and turned her frosty eyes towards Severus. "For a brilliant man, Severus, you just committed an almost fatal mistake. I'll be taking Mr. Potter back to the infirmary." Without waiting for a response, she levitated the teen, turned, and left the room, Harry floating in front of her. As soon as the boy and woman were out of sight, Xiomara exploded.

            "What possessed you?!" Snape took a step back, unused to being the one on the receiving end of the flying instructor's anger.

            "As I said before, I was merely telling—" Xiomara gave a derisive laugh.

            "'Merely telling', he says. You managed to get him into thrice-be-damned bond shock!! Had you have continued, you yourself would have been dead because you would have managed to kill your bondmate, Severus!! You imbecile!!" Snape's face, which had changed from white to red, once again switched to white, as all the blood drained from it. He sagged into a chair.

            "I've made a right mess of things, haven't I?" Hooch snorted.

            "I'd say you have. You had enough anger and malice in that 'lecture' to kill the Dark Lord himself! Harry's body couldn't keep up with trying to comfort and appease you, so it shut down!" She shook her head. "You fool." Snape's head shot up abruptly.

            "I have never liked the boy, Xiomara, much less wanted to be bonded to him," he said, quiet voice hiding his shock, self-hatred, and anger at life in general.

            "You think Poppy and I wanted to be together where we first found out? We hated each other too! Imagine, a Slytherin and a Hufflepuff! But then we actually tried to get to know each other, and see past the grudges held between houses. You might find Harry enjoyable company, should you ever be bothered, Severus." She sighed, anger starting to drain out of her.

            "I am not a nice man, Xiomara, nor do I have some secret, 'friendly, warm and fuzzy' side to me that's just been 'repressed' all these years." Xiomara snorted.

            "I'd sure as hell hope not! You'd downright scare me then." Snape gave her a dirty look.

            "I am true to myself, and to hell with the rest of the world!" he retorted, voice bitter. The flying instructor sighed again.

            "Who's to say if Harry likes 'nice men'?" she asked as she stood to leave. "I know that Poppy didn't seem to mind a 'not-nice' woman," she concluded, raising an eyebrow. She walked to the door, then paused and turned slightly.

            "Yes?" Severus asked tiredly, bracing himself for a parting shot.

            "Severus, we were somewhat friends all those years ago, and I never saw you happy. You have a chance at happiness now. For that happiness and that friendship, think about what I said. Harry is not his father; don't hold the grudge against him." The door closed and Severus sat in the silence thinking of what to do next.

            I'm not my father, Severus Snape, nor am I my godfather, or Remus Lupin, or that damn rat!! I'm Harold James Potter!! I have no control over what happened in the past!' The words echoed in his mind. Shaking his head slightly, he cleaned up the vials and various ingredients scattered around the room and prepared for tomorrow's lesson.

            'Professor?' he heard a sleepy voice call in his mind.

            'Potter?' The tentative voice shrank away. With a sigh, Snape sent out a small measure of welcome.

            'Sev?' he heard in reply, Harry's voice still sleepy.

            'Who else would it be?' Severus commented dryly. He heard mumbling that he couldn't decipher. 'Just as well,' he thought to himself. 'It wouldn't be very flattering anyway.'

            'Always crabby,' he heard again before contact with the teen faded slightly.

            'Always crabby, always snarky,' Snape sighed with vexation. 'No one seems to understand that it is just my nature, just as Harry's nature is foolhardy and insufferably cheerful.'

            'M'not foolhardy,' came the very sleepy protest.

            'Yes you are,' Snape replied gently. 'But I think we can overlook it right now.' He only response was that of the feeling of Harry "hugging" him, before abruptly stopping.

            'What?! What am I doing here again?!'

            'You passed out, Potter,' Snape replied simply.

            'I thought you were going to call me "Harry".' Snape gave the mental equivalent of rolling his eyes.

            'You didn't give me a chance to say "yes" or "no", Potter.' Confusion flooded the bond.

            'Sire? Madame Pomfrey is asking what you were saying earlier. All I can remember is asking you to call me "Harry", then waking up here.' Snape felt a small sense of relief at Harry's amnesia.

            'Tell Pomfrey that, Potter.' A nod.

            'Right.' A pause. 'Professor—'

            'Severus,' the older man interrupted reluctantly.

            'Huh?' Harry asked, confused.

            'Call me Severus—but only if we are communicating this way!'

            'Yes, Severus,' Harry replied meekly.

            'Insolent brat,' Severus replied teasingly. 'You're mocking me.'

            'Whatever gave you that idea?' the teen replied innocently. Severus could almost imagine those wide, innocent, emerald eyes gazing up at him. Before he could send him a reply however, Harry asked one last question. 'Severus, what is "bond shock"?

~~ooO@Ooo~~

And that is it for chapter one! It's long, it's 20 pages!! Go me!! Sorry, rather proud of myself for the length. Now, the next chapter is being written, but since I'm aiming for rather long chapters, there'll be slight gaps in between each one. Hope to see you all again soon!