Chapter 1: Blood on My Knife

It was the day before winter break and the last class of the day. Potions. No one was overly focused, but Harry was particularly distracted. I hate winter break, he thought, I'm alone, well more alone than usual. Ron and Hermione are leaving and I'm stuck here. I used to bloody love it here, then Sirius died. Now I really have no family. Being here and seeing other wizards just reminds me that everyone I love might die because of Voldemort. Why do I have to be the goddamn Boy-Who-Lived! He looked around the room, everyone was focused on their potions and Snape was taunting Neville. Harry looked down at his scarred wrist. There were other cuts that were healing, but he hungered to feel the blade again. He pressed its cool steel to his wrist and made a slender line to match the others. There, that will tie me over for a while. He read the next step of instructions "Chop lacewing flies diagonally and add stirring anti-clockwise." It was only after he'd begun adding them that he realized his blood was on the blade and now he was stirring it into his potion. Shit, well maybe this one isn't—BOOM! His cauldron exploded.

"Everyone… Remain. Calm. Finish your potions. Potter!" Snape said striding over. When he was inches from Harry's face he growled, "That was one of my best cauldrons." Harry avoided his professor's eyes. "Look. At. Me. When I am speaking to you Potter." His eyes snapped forward, staring unblinkingly into Snape's. Merlin, those onyx eyes are beautiful. They absolutely glisten when he's pissed. Snap out of it! This is Snape, he bloody well hates you! Harry sighed. "Detention, tonight. My office." He spun on his heel.

"Professor," Harry started, not knowing where he was going with the rest of the sentence. Snape turned, his eyebrows raised. "Uh…"

"If you have nothing to say… Don't. Waste. My. Time."

"What should I do now?" Harry asked, nearly cutting Snape off. I shouldn't cut off his silky smooth voice.

"Since you've destroyed my cauldron, wasted my ingredients, and there is only half an hour left of class, you should leave. And try to arrive on time for your detention," Snape sneered and Malfoy snickered. Hermione shot Malfoy a glare and he stuck his tongue out at her.

"You didn't say when it started, Professor."

"8 pm. Sharp."

"It's a date," Harry called to Snape's back as he ducked out of Potions. "It's a date" what the bloody hell are you thinking? He chastised himself. His cock was hard as hell and he headed off to the shower.

Once Hermione and Ron finished their potions, they went to find Harry. "Hey mate," Ron began when they found him in the common room, "rough back in Potions. Snape seemed a little more irritable today, didn't he?"

"Probably because the greasy git has nothing better to do than make my life a living hell," Harry said. As if I don't enjoy the extra attention, even if he is using his sexy voice to taunt me.

"He was being a total prick today, Harry," Hermione chimed in. Harry smiled, his friends always had his back. Too bad they didn't know what his arms or body looked like. The Dursleys did a number on him with the beatings, and whatever they didn't do, Harry inflicted. He kept his glamours up at all times, he'd made it so they conceal every cut, break, bruise and scratch that was self-inflicted, or done by the Dursleys, was invisible to all medical tests, magical and otherwise. He lay his arm on the chair and his most recent cut burned, he ignored the pain.

"Well, we'd better get going, Hermione, train leaves in…."

Hermione looked at the clock and gasped "Five minutes! Sorry Harry, got to run!" She hugged him as did Ron. "We'll miss you, and we'll write!"

"Get going! Harry said lightly. They turned and ran for the train. Harry laughed once they were gone. I have an hour to myself before that damn detention. He went to the bathroom, locked the door, and stripped before the mirror. Harry pulled out his potions knife and made gashes all over his body, from his wrists to his ankles and ribs. He smiled at his blood-covered reflection. After another shower he checked the time. 7:51, guess I'd better get going. He picked up his bag and started down the hall. When he reached Snape's door, he knocked.

"Enter," came the bored reply.

He pushed open the door and stepped in. "You managed to make it on time."

"I did, sir!" Harry said with a smile and a bit of enthusiasm.

"Did you want a bloody medal?" Snape asked sarcastically, his top lip curling. "Sit," he ordered. Harry sat where he was standing. "In a chair you idiot." Harry's cheeks burned as he stood and crossed the room. He sat in a chair that faced Snape perfectly.

"Is this good, Professor?" He retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Five point from Gryffindor."

"What the hell for?"

"Ten. Insubordination," Snape said slowly.

"Fine then. Isn't this detention? Shouldn't I be doing something?" Harry asked, trying to get Snape to tell him to do something, anything, so he could stop concentrating on how sexy his potions master looked and sounded.

"Well Potter," Snape sneered, "since you're just such high maintenance, you can clean all the cauldrons that still properly function. If you can manage that. Report back here when you've completed this… simple task." Harry nodded and raced over to begin washing the cauldrons.

He took delicate care in cleaning them, for if they were scrubbed in the wrong direction, they could cause a potion to explode. Bet Snape doesn't know I know that, Harry thought smugly. The soap dripped down his arm and he brought his other hand around to catch it before it hit his shirt. His hand was so cold, he shuddered when it touched the warm skin of his forearm. He cupped the arm and slid his hand down toward his wrist. He shuddered and imagined the same sensation on his cock, a freezing hand, coated in a slick substance—"Potter! Are you working or daydreaming?" Came the question from across the room.

"Uhh, working? Professor," Harry said cautiously. Snape nodded and returned to the essays he was grading. Phew, that was close, Harry thought, trying to relax and get rid of his now-pesky boner. He succeeded, finished washing the cauldrons, and walked back over to Snape. "I've finished, sir."

"Good. Now do you care to enlighten me as to how you managed to explode your cauldron in class?"

"I must have just added the ingredients incorrectly –"

"Don't. Lie. To. Me. I know exactly what those ingredients do with each other, even when added in the wrong order and no such combination yields an explosion," Snape snapped.

"Well I…"

"Yes," Snape urged, his voice thick with irritation.

"There was blood on my knife, I must have nicked myself when cutting the lacewing flies," Harry stammered.

"Very well, you may go," Snape said, looking back down at the essay before him. Harry stood and left. Not even a second look. I doubt he even cares about me a lick.