This has been swimming around in my head for a while (like, since I read the fifth book seven years ago). There will be seven chapters and an epilogue, one for each book. Mostly canon, all from Snape's POV. This is an eventual SNARRY (SeverusxHarry), but there shall be no hanky-panky before Harry turns 17. Pedophilia, while a respected plot device in some circumstances, has no place in this story.

I have tweaked a few things of course to make this Snarry, so it can't all be canon. But if I did screw anything up royally, please don't hesitate to tell me POLITELY. I've misplaced my copies of SS and CoS, so I don't have them handy to refer back to. For once, I have almost all of this story written. I'll post the rest of the story before the end of September. That gives you all something to look forward to and me a deadline, though I make no promises due to an impending hurricane that's going to shut the power off here at my college in about and hour.

One last thing: the title. If anyone out there is a fan of my work (if you are, thanks for the support), they hopefully know that I typically take my titles from song lyrics or things my mother says. This title I dedicate to a Quizilla author I knew as mushroomoon. She had a story by the same title (it was an HP SiriusxOC fic) that her father forced her to remove for some reason or another. It was also the first fanfic I had ever read. Her story being removed was the reason I was inspired to write. Though she never knew that I existed, or what an impact her plight had on me, I'm still proud to dedicate this to her, or rather what she represented to me.

Year One:
This is My Reaction to Everything I Fear

-
Severus could not believe his misfortune. No, scratch that. He could believe it; that didn't stop him from feeling extraordinarily angry and horribly inconvenienced. Anything involving that little cretin Potter was bound to end in disaster. Thanks to Severus, the boy had escaped with his life. This time.

Sitting on the edge of an adjacent bed in Madam Pomfrey's domain, Severus Snape thought back over the year, wondering how he had managed to get himself into such a predicament.

It all began, Severus mused, that fateful night. The Sorting Ceremony had been filled with the usual rabble of first years, all of whom were absolutely terrified. It warmed the potion master's heart to see such fear in the small children. There had been the usual lot, of course; another Weasley, a few proper pure bloods, and crying muggle-borns. As the list went on, the only name of note in Severus's opinion was Draco Malfoy, his godson.

"Potter, Harry." McGonagall's normally controlled, measured tone faltered. The entire hall fell silent for a brief moment. The Boy Who Lived, their savior, was among them. Predictably, the whispering erupted like a wave crashing, flowing slowly then ebbing before rising again like the hissing of a great snake. For his part, Severus was stunned, intrigued, and swamped with a hatred he had not felt in years.

The boy scampered up onto the stool, pulling the Sorting Hat down over his head and eyes. It was almost like he was trying to hide; Severus knew better than to assume that. The boy was the spitting image of his father. Inky black hair in constant disarray, obnoxious round glasses that no one should be able to pull off that well, and a face built to smirk in triumph. There was no doubt in Severus's mind where the little brat would be sorted into. He wondered what was taking the Hat so long; the boy could only fit in one House.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The Hat seemed rather proud of the announcement, which was ridiculous. Severus could have sorted this particular student. Of course, the Gryffindors cheered as though Christmas had come early, exams were cancelled, and the Dark Lord had fallen again. It was a bit too much, in the potion master's opinion, but Gryffindors were always too exuberant. They were always too everything, come to think of it.

James Potter's image traipsed over to the red and gold house, sitting down amongst a clan of red-headed muggle lovers. When he turned to watch the rest of the sorting, Severus's breath caught for the second time in the span of five minutes. His eyes. Peridot, jade, myrtle, mint, viridian, celadon, harlequin, emerald. Just like his mother's, the precious Lily Evans. Those haunting forest colored eyes stared up at him, piercing him like a spear through the heart and a fissure of ice through the mind. His mother's eyes in his father's face. My personal hell, embodied as a first year, Snape thought as he fought to beat down a hysteric giggle. That would be most out of character and draw unwanted attention.

As Severus looked upon the boy, drinking in his visage, Potter reached a hand up to rub his forehead. It was as though the hellion had felt a bolt of pain run through his head. As though he was rising from a deep pool, Severus found himself aware of his surroundings once more. Shaking his head to clear it, he turned his attention to his dinner. There would be seven long years to study the Potter boy, though he was not sure if that was a comforting thought.

-
Harry Potter, Severus concluded as he lounged in his quarters with a glass of whiskey, was not only arrogant, he was a disappointment. If his father had seen how poorly his spawn had reacted to Severus's verbal attacks, he would have been disowned. Lily's disappointment would have sprung from the boy not knowing the answer to Severus's questions. Both of his parents, Severus acknowledged begrudgingly, had been absolutely brilliant. Harry Potter, on the other hand, was intellectually lackluster. Some deep part of the potion master had been hoping for a bit more of a reaction, something more like Potter the elder and deader; as teacher, Severus was assured victory over his tiny enemy. Unfortunately, the brat had not put up a fight. All he could do was glare and hope Severus would switch his attention away to the Longbottom child, who had proven himself worse at Potions than Potter.

Having those green eyes glare at him was disconcerting, though Severus would never admit it even under Veritaserum. Lily used to glare at him like that, near the end of their acquaintance. It was a look that made Snape want to beg and plead for forgiveness, to grovel and become so subservient and pathetic that the wielder of those emerald orbs would deign to take mercy on him. That was a dangerous power for a first year to exert over anyone, let alone above the foreboding potions master who presided over the castle dungeons. Severus never wanted Potter to realize this power; it would be the end of him. Severus Snape was nothing if not self preserving.

-
"That damn boy!" Severus exploded as he paced back and forth through the Headmaster's office. The veins in his forehead stuck out like a raised mountain ridge against his pale, sallow skin. It was a rare sight to see the reserved potion master so out of control, though Dumbledore had grown used to it over the years. "Reckless, arrogant, self-destructive-just like his bastard father!"

"Now Severus," the old man admonished lightly, that damn twinkle in his eye almost forcing Severus's magic to start smashing things uncontrollably. "I did not realize how deeply you cared for the lad. Why did you not tell me sooner?"

"Care? Albus, have you finally lost all of your marbles?" Snape demanded incredulously. The man was missing the point entirely. "I loathe that pretentious Gryffindor Golden Boy with every fiber of my being not already owned by you and the Dark Lord."

"But you loved his mother so well," the old man mused, turning to stroke his phoenix. Fawkes had never taken a liking to Severus. He had assumed that it was because he was not Gryffindor. The greatest of all birds cooed as his master petted him, but kept one wary eye on Severus at all times. "I had hoped you would find it in you to love her child as well. A surrogate father, if you will. The muggle relatives who raised him are a bit…well, rather like your own, Severus. Harry needs a strong, male, parental wizard in his life. You would help him so much."

The ploy was a common one that Dumbledore employed with Severus. Playing on his adoration of Lily to manipulate him into obedience. Thankfully, the tactic seldom worked any more. Severus was not the same scared twenty some year old running from a power he did not understand right into the arms of another for the price of his love's life.

"I promised to keep Lily's child safe," Severus ground out unwillingly. "I will not associate with the parts of him that are so like his father."

"James?" Dumbledore chuckled, once more missing Severus's main point. The potion master flinched at the name, a long ingrained habit that he doubted he would ever break. "I never understood you two's school boy hatred. It was immediate, if I recall. According to the other teachers, Harry is as much like one as the other. He's as loyal, brave, and quick as his father while being as polite, gracious, and understanding as his mother. Even if he does have James's reckless streak. I think you'd like him, Severus, if you gave him a chance."

"That does not excuse the fact that he and his cronies took on a fully grown mountain troll in the girl's lavatory on their own. See? He has a pack of loyal followers already, just like Potter." At least J Potter had an equal; Sirius Black completed Potter in a way that made Snape's mouth sour with jealousy. They were the perfect friends and they had the perfect cheerleaders. Weasley resembled Pettigrew, while Granger was very much the Lupin of the group, smart, cautious, and reserved. The boy had no one he acknowledged to keep him in check; they followed him blindly, and he would lead them to death.

"They defeated the troll, did they not?" Albus retorted enigmatically. "Do not worry about Harry, Severus. He is quite capable of protecting himself."

How a first year was supposed to be skilled enough to do that, Severus wasn't sure. All he knew was that if Potter got himself killed, Lily would never forgive him.

-
Potter, Severus seethed, had the worst timing in the world. Another familial trait, he thought darkly as he swept dramatically down the halls of the dungeon to his private quarters. Harry Potter, The Brat Who Lived, jogged behind him in an attempt to keep up with his irate teacher.

All Severus had wanted was to have his leg bandaged. Going to Poppy would have required an explanation that he wasn't willing to give, and he brewed all over her concoctions anyway. Having Argus wrap his leg the muggle way and slathering some unguent on it later would suffice. Of course, until Harry Bloody Potter decided that he wanted his book back.

The boy deserved an explanation, if only a brief one. It would prevent him from doing something stupid and Severus wouldn't have to save him. It had been bad enough with the broom incident, and he had resolutely ignored the way his heart leapt to his throat. It would give him premature gray hair, early heart failure, and an attachment to a boy he hated. No, telling him the truth was best.

Severus opened the door and herded Harry inside. The door closed with a click as the lock snapped into place. "Sit, Potter," he ordered crisply as he gestured to one of the green armchairs that sat before the fire.

The brat stared at him warily for several moments, his distrustful wondrous eyes flashing before he slowly made his way to a chair. Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes; out of everyone in the world, Severus was really the one to intend the boy the least amount of bodily harm. No matter how much looking at his face enraged the potion master.

"What happened to your leg, Professor?" the boy asked quietly. His timid voice shook and he refused to look his teacher in the eye, preferring to stare at the fire. Perhaps that was for the best, though.

Snape raised a derisive eyebrow. "It was mauled, Potter," he drawled, "I would think that even you with your poor observational skills would have noticed that."

That tone got a reaction. Perhaps Potter was more tired than he looked, because Severus hadn't been able to get such a rise out of him before. "What have I ever done to you?" the boy cried indignantly. The emeralds held Snape's gaze like a bird under the spell of a snake; he could not look away, nor did he want to. They pulled him in and held him on a string tether. Potter could have asked anything of him at that moment and Severus would have done it willingly. Then the boy shook his head, the outburst dissipating before it even had time to fully form. "Did Fluffy get a hold of you, sir?" he tried again, forcing himself to be polite.

"How do you know about Hagrid's damn dog?" Snape demanded before he could stop himself. Potter held silent, thankfully, as Severus collected himself. There was no reason for a child to hold such sway over his emotions. It had taken the potion master years to carefully seal himself away deep within the confines of his soul where no amount of legilimency could find it; his long years of toil was not going to be shattered by a scrawny boy with unruly hair and wide green eyes.

"Professor?" Potter asked. This time there was no fear; Severus was surprised to hear a bit of concern in the young, innocent voice. With his eyes closed, of course, he couldn't see the boy's face to make sure. "Are you feeling quite well?"

Snape snapped his eyes open, fighting down a chuckle. That would most certainly be taken the wrong way. "I have just been attacked by a three headed canine, Mr. Potter," he pointed out with an almost vicious smile. "Of course I am not well. How do you know about Hagrid's pet?" Severus refused to say 'Fluffy" because it was simply too demeaning for the beast. Not to mention it was not a word that belonged in his mouth.

"Hagrid mentioned him sir," Potter replied promptly. His huge emerald eyes stared up into Severus's black ones, and the potions master almost believed him. Hagrid was dense enough to talk loosely about such things with his favorite Gryffindor. Potter was not an accomplished enough liar to rouse Severus's suspicions. And yet… it didn't hurt to be absolutely sure.

"You've gone to the third floor corridor, haven't you, Potter?" Snape questioned softly. It was his detention voice. The threatening 'I know what you've done, and you know what's going to happen now' tone had sent more than one student screaming out of his classroom in this year alone. A flicker of something sprung up in Potter's eyes, something Severus had thought to never see in the brat. Intelligence, cunning, and recognition.

In that moment, Severus realized three things that forced him to reevaluate the slight boy before him. Harry Potter was smarter than he had let Severus notice. Harry Potter knew what he was doing, and intended to keep Severus in the dark about it. And Harry Potter knew that Snape knew these things. All of this combined to impose a radical thought: Harry Potter might have flourished in Slytherin.

"I think that you should go see Madam Pomfrey, Professor," the boy insisted. The stirring in the boys eyes had settled as though it had never happened.

"Listen to me," Severus implored desperately, though his tone was as distantly cold as ever. All he could do was hope that his eyes conveyed the message. "You mustn't go down there. It doesn't matter how badly you think you need to protect it. You will die, Potter. If you think that someone is trying to take it please tell me immediately. There is nothing you can do."

"I'm still not quite sure what you're talking about, sir," he admitted in an (had it been in anyone else's hearing) adorably confused tone. The emotion in his voice did not match the one in his eyes, though. He's going to have to learn to do that better if he hopes to confuse me, Severus thought absently. "But I'm sure you're wrong," he added defiantly.

"Get to bed, Potter. And don't let me catch you out past curfew ever again," Severus ordered with disgust. This was the thanks he got for attempting to save and arrogant and self centered Gryffindor who hated him.

As the door slammed closed, Severus flopped onto his sofa gracelessly. Even potions masters deserved a moment of unrestrained frustration to be less than proper. Pouring himself a glass of whiskey, Severus noticed that the bottle was almost empty. Again.

"Lily, you damn son is turning me into an alcoholic," he griped, downing the liqueur.

-
The dust was finally clearing. Severus was glad; that meant he could see the rubble from his blasting and not trip and kill himself like an idiot. Or like Potter, he thought viciously as he blasted through what was left of Minerva's chess board. He would have liked to test himself against the challenges, but unfortunately the only thing he had time for was an overwhelming full frontal assault. Throwing magic around in such a manner was dangerous, but Severus had no choice.

Only a few minutes earlier, Miss Granger had come barreling down the hall, screaming at the top of her lungs, "PROFESSOR MCGONNAGAL! PROFFESORE DUMBLEDORE! HURRY!"

Severus was, unfortunately the first teacher she encountered. It took much more persuasion than he had expected for her to explain what was going on. As soon as the muggle born had finished her brief tale, Severus took off at a run for the third floor corridor on the right hand side. Potter was in trouble.

Minerva and Dumbledore were right behind him; they would take care of the unconscious Weasley occupying a corner of the chessboard, white sword thrown before him in acknowledged victory. Severus's heart fluttered madly in his chest. A terror that he had not felt in many long, long years gripped him and overpowered some of his common sense. Harry Potter, the son of the love of his life, was most likely dead in the next hall.

Severus didn't waste time attempting to rationalize the fear; there was no time to assure himself that he only cared for Lily's sake and Dumbledore's promise. Potter was his student, his responsibility, and no incompetent Defense Against the Dark Arts hack of a teacher was going to tear the boy away from him. Even if Voldemort was on the back of Quirrel's head.

Breezing past his own challenge without a thought, Severus entered the great chamber where Dumbledore had finally moved the Mirror of Erised to. The room bore signs of a great battle. The walls and pillars were demolished and the great hunks of stone that composed them were strewn about the floor. Several torches had fallen and dripped oil, causing tongues of flame to race around the room. In front of the mirror, in the middle of all the chaos, lay Harry Potter.

By his side in an instant, Severus began a brief but thorough examination of the body. So sweet was the relief that flooded through Severus he almost let a groan of relief slip out. The boy, that damn boy, was alive. In his left hand was the Philosopher's Stone and in his right the holly wand was clasped loosely.

"Potter," Severus murmured, scooping his unconscious student up into his arms as gently as he could. "The Boy Who Has Some How Managed to Cheat Death Again."

"Severus," Dumbledore greeted cordially as he entered the room. The old man was completely unfazed by the sight before him, causing a wave of something stronger than irritation to well up in the potion master. "See that Harry is taken to Poppy. Leave the Stone and Mirror to me."

As he turned to hand the Stone to Dumbledore, Severus caught sight of his reflection in the Mirror of Erised. All he saw was a tall, bird like man holding a small boy in his arms protectively. The only difference was that the Mirror Potter had to injuries; the real Potter groaned in discomfort and bled from several minor cuts. The left side of his face, the side closest to Severus, was one big purple bruise.

Forgetting that the Headmaster was in the room, Severus gently wiped a bit of dirt away from Harry's face. Turning on his heel, Snape carried his least favorite student out of the bowels of the Third Floor Corridor.

-
Now, sitting on the edge of an infirmary bed in the Hospital Wing, Severus glared down at the sleeping Potter. If Potter had just listened to him…

Perhaps Harry had sensed the disapproving stare of his teacher, because he chose that moment to open his brilliant green eyes. "Hm?" he questioned wordlessly. His voice was thick from disuse and his eyes were clouded over in sleep. "Who's there?"

"What are you blathering about, Potter?" Snape demanded, because there was really nothing else he could do. Had the ordeal messed with the child's brain? That was probable, now that Severus decided to entertain the notion. He had been blinded by worry before and unable to think of anything but Harry waking again. There had been no thought or concern spared for what would happen once the Boy Who Just Wouldn't Die was awake.

"Professor Snape?" Harry asked cautiously. Severus nodded. "I should have known. No one else wears that much black," he muttered, earning another glare from the potions master. Obviously the boy was delirious if he thought he could speak to Severus that way. "Could you hand me my glasses?"

"Your what?" Snape asked stupidly before he could process the request. Potter wore glasses. How could he have forgotten? With all the time he spent staring (covertly) at those emerald orbs, Severus had never once noticed the thin layer of glass between him and the green objects of his fascination. Grabbing the offending spectacles from the table near Potter's bed, Severus stood to hand them to the boy. "Here."

"Thank you," Harry murmured as he slipped the glasses on. Blinking a few times to focus his eyesight, Harry looked up into Severus's unreadable obsidian orbs. "What are you doing here, sir?"

It was the subtle emphasis on the word 'you' and the belated addition of 'sir' that caused Severus to narrow his eyes at Potter. "Making sure that my hard work has not gone to waste," he snapped.

Harry raised his eyebrows in silent shock. "You brought me out of the Mirror room, Professor?" he asked incredulously. "Why?"

"It's my job to see that stupid students to not injure themselves on their own ignorance," he retorted gratefully. Potter was awake and fighting him; everything would be just fine.

"Meaning you wanted to gloat and say 'I told you so'."

How astute. "I did warn you, Potter," Severus pointed out smugly. It hurt, for some unfathomable reason, that Harry didn't follow his orders. It also gave him great satisfaction to be right, so he supposed the feelings negated each other. "But since you insist: I told you so."

Harry nodded silently, staring at the pattern woven into his blanket for a few moments. "Sir?" he began innocently. Snape's guard was immediately up. "I hate being the one to tell you this, but you were wrong."

Snape's shock was so great that his eyebrows flew up to make an acquaintance with his hairline. "What?" he asked in the tone he usually reserved for making sixth years cry.

"I'm not dead," Harry pointed out cheekily. "And I did do something. Voldemort didn't get the Stone, sir."

Silence settled between the two raven haired males like a thick, suffocating blanket. Severus was beyond furious, yet some insane part of his mind was chuckling, impressed with the boy's temerity.

A knock at the infirmary door severed the tension between student and teacher. "That is undoubtedly Dumbledore," Severus informed the brat who lay still grinning at him. "I think I will leave before he gets any notion in his head that I care for your well being."

"You wouldn't have stayed by my side for this long if you didn't care, Professor," Harry pointed out shrewdly. The Slytherin aspect of Potter had reared its head again.

"Don't make me do something regrettable, Potter," Severus threatened darkly as he swept out of the wing. The potions master didn't deign to acknowledge the chuckle that graced his ears from behind.

That brat will be the death of me.

-
Reviews are nice. Just sayin'. Also, if you have any questions about why I didn't include something (like the Quidditch incident), just ask. Or if you want to make sure I don't cut something you think is important in future chapters, tell me and I'll try to include it.