If He's Anything Like Me

By Ammie Hawk

Disclaimer: Nope.

AN: So this chapter has been marinating for a while now, and I finally got the drive to finish it. And since I had to make some hard decisions regarding some of my other fics, I decided to post it right away, for more details see my profile. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Chapter 9: Snape's Choice

If Harry thought things would get better over the next few days, he was sorely mistaken. After his blow up in the courtyard, the rumors about who his parents were began spreading like wildfire. No one had gotten it quite right, as it was a very strange situation, and apparently Ron wasn't willing to enlighten anyone to the truth, but they had figured out that he was related to the new Defense professor. His fellow year mates were now convinced he was receiving special treatment, since he had answered correctly during their lesson, when even Hermione had gotten it wrong. From there, the animosity had spread like an infection until almost the entirety of Gryffindor believed he was either a liar or a cheat. The only one who hadn't turned on him was Hermione, but she was kind of at a loss as to what to do about the whole thing.

He had tried his best to put on a brave face, but all he'd really managed was to avoid any of his housemates. Though, he had stayed in the dorms, he didn't want to add fuel to the fire by spending nights in his fathers' quarters. In fact, he didn't want them to know anything was wrong, so he was kind of avoiding them as well, especially Quatre. He didn't want the empathic blond to pick up on his distress. Today, however, he couldn't do that, as he had History of Magic first thing.

So Friday morning, he got up early, as had become his routine, and made his way out of the dormitory. He bypassed the Great Hall and made his way to a hidden alcove he'd discovered a couple days ago. Once he was settled in, he reached into his bag and pulled out his Potions book. He knew it was kinda silly, but he wanted to do better in that class this year, since Snape was going to be a more prominent figure in his life now. And maybe if he tried harder, it'd be easier for Snape to be nice to him.

He remained there until it was almost time for class and then made his way to the History of Magic classroom. As he had been most of the week he was the first one there, but instead of going inside and finding a seat, he chose to wait out in the corridor. He didn't want to face Wufei and any questions he might have. So when the other students began drifting in, he joined them and slipped into the back of the classroom.

When the bell rang, Wufei entered behind the last student and closed the door behind him. He swept up the center aisle with an air of authority that no one dared question. Once he reached the front desk, he turned and surveyed the class.

"First things first," he said in a no nonsense tone, "consider this your one and only warning, if that door closes and you are not in this classroom, consider yourself excused for the day. Fifteen points will be taken from your house and you will fail the day, both class assignments and homework. Allowances will be given for medical or family emergencies, but know that I will verify each and every one. I am Professor Barton-Chang. You will address me as such, or Professor, or Sir. Is anything I have said unclear?"

"No, Professor Barton-Chang," they chorused.

"Good," he nodded. "Now, who can tell me where magic comes from?"

Everyone, even Hermione, looked confused by this question. Dark eyes swept over the room.

"No one?" he shook his head. "Very well, since none of you seem to know, Mr. Longbottom give us your opinion on the matter."

"Uh," Neville looked like a deer in the headlights at being called on. "Well, my gran always said it comes from inside us, that's why some people can't use it."

"An interesting theory," Wufei nodded. "Mr. Thomas, your opinion please?"

"I think it comes more from the Earth," Dean shrugged. "Nature and stuff like that. There's a bunch of theories, that even some Muggles can do magic to a degree by drawing on the power of nature."

"A very valid point," the teacher agreed. "And Mr. Finnigan, what say you?"

"My dad says that magic comes from the gods," Seamus scratched his head. "Not sure I believe that, but he says that the gods bless certain people with special abilities."

"None of you are wrong, per se," the former pilot leaned back against his desk. "Magic is energy, it has no real beginning and no real end, it just is. It is not bound to the Earth, because you can go up to space and find just as much if not more than the Sphere. Now, I'm not saying it's not in nature because some people and creatures draw their powers from it, take Elves for example, put them in their natural element and they are ten times stronger. As for religion, it is not where magic originates, but all religions have a basis in magic whether they want to admit it or not.

"Now that you know that magic is," he continued, "we are going to focus this year on Ancient cultures from around the world and how they utilized magic and how each one helped culminate the process into what we practice today."

888888

The last class of the day for second year Gryffindors was Potions with the Slytherins. As they made their way down to the dungeons, Harry swayed slightly and had to lean against the wall for a moment to keep from falling down the stairs. No one seemed to notice this, as most of his year mates were still ignoring him, and Hermione had made a detour to the library for something or other. After a moment, his equilibrium stabilized and he continued his way down the steps, keeping close to the wall just in case.

When they reached the dungeons, the Slytherins were already there waiting. As they waited in the hall, concerned grey eyes met green. Harry quickly looked away, he really didn't want to deal with Draco Malfoy, of all people, at the moment. That's just what he needed, for the rest of his house to think he was cavorting with one of their biggest rivals.

Before he could dwell on it further, Snape arrived and let them into the classroom. Harry aimed for a seat in the back, but as this was Gryffindor House's least favorite subject, he found that the seats were already taken by the time he entered the room. This left only the front table available for him. Well, at least Hermione would be happy. And she wasn't displeased when she arrived just before the bell rang.

They didn't have time to talk, as Snape began the lesson right away. He put the instructions on the board and set them to brewing, with no talking. Harry was so glad that Hermione was still talking to him, as she kept stopping him from completely ruining his potion. She kept him from adding the wrong ingredients at the wrong time, or putting too much of something, or god, even stirring in the wrong direction. He didn't know what was wrong with him, he'd studied so hard, but now that he was here he couldn't seem to focus at all. It was just lucky that Snape seemed to be otherwise occupied or he was sure he'd have lost a substantial amount of points, which would've endeared him to his housemates even more, and would've gotten a horrible tongue lashing from the man.

Finally, the bell rang and the class was over. Harry bottled his potion, which he knew was barely passable, and took it to Snape's desk. He then went back to his cauldron and began cleaning up his mess.

"Potter," the Potions Master's voice cut across the room, "you will stay behind. The rest of you finish quickly and leave."

It took a few minutes for the others to finish, and Harry continued as well and then sat back down at his desk. So apparently Snape had noticed his mess ups. Well, at least he was being decent enough to wait till everyone was gone before he laid into him. At last, only two students remained aside from Harry.

"I believe I told you to leave, Granger," dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Malfoy, go."

The bushy haired witch shot one last sympathetic glance in her best friend's direction before she took her leave. Draco hesitated a moment longer, but knew better than to argue with his Head of House. When they were gone, Snape closed the door with a wave of his wand, followed by a complex series of wand movements that he bespectacled boy had no idea what meant.

"Pot—" the Potions Master closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Harry, come here."

Slightly confused, he made his way to the front of the desk and stood opposite his professor. Snape did not look pleased by his compliance, and motioned for him to stand beside his chair. Reluctantly, he moved again until he was directly next to the man. Before he could react, the Potions Master's arm shot out and latched on Harry's. The next thing he knew, he found himself sat firmly on the man's lap.

"Calm yourself, Harry," Snape commanded rather gently in Harry's opinion.

"S-sir?" he stuttered slightly. "Wh-what are you…"

"Relax," the dour man sighed. "I know that Draco explained over the summer what you are and what you require. I also know that you have not been getting the contact you need since you have returned to school. Now, tell me, when was the last time you ate?"

"I-I don't remember," he shrugged, finding himself incapable of moving away.

"You stopped coming to the Great Hall Wednesday evening, do you go to the kitchens?"

"No, sir," he began playing with his fingernails. "I haven't been hungry."

"Foolish child," Snape scowled.

He quietly summoned a house elf and asked for some soup. A few minutes passed in silence before a large steaming bowl appeared on the desk in front of them.

"Eat," the Potions Master commanded quietly.

"I-I'm not hungry," Harry protested.

"Fine," Snape conceded, leaning back in his chair and settling the boy more comfortably on his lap, tucking the unruly head beneath his chin. "Then we will sit here until you are. I am not going to be the one who has to explain to my husband, not to mention the rest of your fathers, why you ended up in the hospital wing. Now, would you like to explain what is going on with your housemates?"

Harry just shook his head. He really didn't want to talk about it, especially not with Snape.

"You will find, Harry," he said calmly, "that the rumor mill here at Hogwarts is quite extensive, and most, if not all, reach the teachers' ears rather quickly. Now, most of the staff chooses to ignore them, but I have found that even the most outlandish rumors have some basis of truth to them. Now, I can understand your reluctance to talk with me, as I am your teacher and the Head of a rival house. However, I can assure you that at the moment, nothing you tell me will be used against your fellow Gryffindors. That is not to say, I will not keep it in mind for my future dealings with them. Right now, though, I am merely a stepfather who is concerned about the wellbeing of his thickheaded and stubborn stepson."

"You know," the boy pointed out quietly, "insulting someone doesn't make it seem like you care. Not that you do, you've always hated me."

"You'll find that insults are part of my charm," a smirk danced across the professor's face. "It's when they stop you have to be worried. As for past feelings, whether we like it or not, you are my husband's son, which means you will continue to be in my life for quite some time so it would be best if we try and leave those behind us. I am trying to do just that. Now, tell me what has made you so upset that in one week you have managed to make yourself as sick as Duo gets after three months of isolation."

"They hate me," Harry took a shuddering breath, trying desperately to keep from crying. "First, it was just Ron and-and the other Weasleys, but-but now it's everybody in Gryffindor, except Mione."

"I'm sure not all of them hate you," Snape frowned. "I'm sure it may seem that way, but it is unlikely."

"No," the bespectacled boy insisted. "They do. I can't even walk into the common room without feeling sick from all the anger and hate coming at me. Hermione blocks it a bit when she's with me, but not much. The only time I can get away from it is when I'm alone."

"Harry," dark eyes narrowed in thought, "I want you to focus on me and tell me what you feel."

"Sir?" he shifted slightly so he could look him in the eye. "I-I don't understand."

"Close your eyes," the dour man commanded gently, "and let everything else go, and just focus on me. Just listen to my voice and focus solely on me, right here. Relax and concentrate. Now, without opening your eyes, tell me what you are feeling from me."

Harry's brow furrowed as he tilted his head to the side, but kept his eyes closed. It took a moment, but he finally began to speak.

"Concern," he said quietly. "Regret. Um, suspicion? And-and fear?"

Snape let out a harsh breath of frustrated resignation. That blond just had to be right, didn't he? This could prove even more dangerous for the boy than he originally guessed.

"I-I don't know that one," Harry shifted slightly, his voice small.

"Shh," the Potions Master soothed, as he quickly brought up his occlumancy shields. "You may stop now. We need to get this under control. I will speak with Winner this evening and we will set up a time for you to learn control of this… ability."

"Is that really necessary?" the boy pouted slightly.

"It is, Harry," he took a deep breath. "As an Amortentus, you feed, for lack of a better term, off emotions and physical contact. Negative emotions will affect you the same way as eating rotting meat. Add on top of that, your obvious empathic abilities, and you are not only experiencing what amounts to food poisoning, but you are feeling and experiencing those emotions as well. Let me see if I can explain it in a way you will understand. Imagine, if you will, despite the physical impossibilities, if you ate a Bludger and once inside it maintained its functions and abilities."

Harry winced at the implication. He'd always had an innate fear of the Bludgers, but what he was implying just sounded awful.

"So you see why it is imperative that you learn control," the professor pressed. "I will, however, not inform your fathers about your current condition or what you have revealed right now, beyond the bonds of necessity. However, with my doing this, I do have one condition and it will be adhered to: You will find someone to assist with your need for physical contact, I will even be so generous as to give you the password to the Slytherin common room and will look the other way if you sneak out of the Gryffindor tower should you decide to seek out Draco. If you do not do this, you will find yourself in detention with myself, where you will spend every evening from dinner to curfew in this exact position. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes, sir," he nodded.

"Good," Snape nodded as well, and reached out and pulled the soup closer, quickly reheating it magically. "Now, I'm sure you are feeling better, so eat. When you are finished, you may go."

Ammie: Okay, so there it is. I know Harry's kinda acting a bit off, but he will get better as the story progresses, he's just at a bad place right now. Anyway, the plot is moving forward, and maybe soon, we'll get to see the inner workings of my Slytherin house. Anyway, please let me know what you think.