Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters it contains.

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The rest of the week, in its entirety, was rather insignificant; his time consisted of classes, detention and occlumency. To sum it up, Harry spent what felt like the majority of his time in the presence of Snape, being yelled at and ordered around. The man did a fantastic job of making Harry feel insignificant and rather stupid, constantly speaking down to him.

It was a blur, though, really, because of the pills he'd begun to take for his feelings. He continued to feel weary due to the fact that he was still having trouble sleeping, but other than that his feelings had shifted completely. Or rather, his feelings had been wiped out entirely and instead of his usual self-pity and depression he was simply an empty void feeling nothing other than tired, strained and lost.

Seeing as he spent most of his time with Snape, or alone, he judged his own behaviour from how his professor was treating him. The man seemed to not notice a significant difference in his behaviour; this was possibly because he already expected Harry to behave like a daft zombie. The only notable difference was that he seemed to be angering the man even more than regular, and from this discovery he could only deduct that he was even more himself than regular because the known 'Harry Potter' bothered Snape more than anyone, or anything, else. So as long as he smiled and said something 'Harry-like' every once and a while to his friends, no one seemed to notice the rather drugged state he was in. Of course Hermione still worried about him, but no more than regular, he supposed,

On Saturday and Sunday, during his occlumency lessons Harry made sure not to be under the influence of his drug. He did a terrible job, as usual, and as usual Snape sneered at him and commented on his stupidity and 'how he was exactly like his father'. He did not defend himself, possibly too tired or possibly finally of sound mind enough to not encourage the man by retorting. In the penetration of his mind Harry thought that Snape had seen him taking the pills, but the man did not acknowledge it. Why should he? It's not like this drug is illegal so I'm certainly not doing anything wrong. And he decided that it would only be an issue to someone who cared about his well-being, so certainly not Snape.

And as Sunday rolled into Monday and the new week began, Harry thought that maybe he was okay now. Being void was better than what it had been before and though he hated himself for being so weak and full of self-pity, he thought he deserved to feel okay for once. The weeks rolled on without significance until it was mid-October. When Harry was not on his medication, which by now was only when he had occlumency, his mind often questioned why Dumbledore hadn't recruited him for the hunting of the horcrux's.

Certainly he has had some progress since last year?

But Harry decided not to question the man about the issue, simply because he wanted to avoid confrontation with the old wizard for as long as he could. A confrontation with Snape, however, seemed unavoidable as the man was currently staring at him in some kind or perplexed manner. Harry sighed as he stared back at the man, not fully able to meet his eyes but trying to stealthily motion himself inside the potions room. Snape however was blocking the doorway in a custom that seemed almost unintentional, but Harry knew better than that.

"Professor, if I could just get in the room-" his squirming suddenly stopped as the taller man grabbed him by the shoulders and practically lifted him into the room.

"Potter, what is the matter with you?" His question, though accompanied with a sneer, held a note of concern Harry was not used to hearing from his professor.

"Um, pardon?"

"You look rather sick; you're pale, clammy, the bags under your eyes are much darker than regular and you're shaking uncontrollably." It was not a question but rather a prod for Harry to explain himself to Snape. He did not think he needed to.

"No offence, sir, but I'm fine enough to do this. That's all you need to concern yourself with, right?" He tried desperately for his voice to not contain the hope he felt but it was rather hard to control his emotions, seeing as he only felt them about ten hours a week.

"Your competence for occlumency, Potter, is at best terrible without there being anything wrong with you. There is clearly something wrong and I can no longer ignore it; since September you have made literally no progress and my patience has run out." As Snape leered at him he noted that the man's voice held an edge of anger and an unspoken threat that made Harry shiver.

'There is nothing wrong that you don't already know about, sir." He couldn't help but smile at the convincing nature in which he spoke, but Snape dismissed his words without a second thought.

"What is that medication you're taking?" Before he could answer, though, Snape had delved into his mind and retrieved his answer himself. "You insufferable brat! Why would you be taking such medication?" The snap in the man's voice echoed his actions as he grabbed Harry and dragged him into a seat and glared down at him.

"Without it, all I can think about is my fate! It's driving me mad, professor. The medication helps me forget." He tried his hardest to give Snape a steady gaze but couldn't help but falter as he looked into the deep pools of black.

"It may help you forget, Potter, but it's more harm than it is help. You mustn't use it again, do you understand?" His words were a dangerous order and his expression mirrored them.

"Well I just don't see how I'm supposed to deal with all of this." Harry motioned his arms hopelessly as panic struck.

"How typical, Potter, that you're so full of self-pity." At his professor's words, Harry blanched. There was nothing he could do to deny them so he stayed decidedly silent and did all he could not to look into Snape's eyes, fearing he'd turn to stone.

"Of course I understand how you feel, Potter, but there is nothing to be done. Everyone is going to die; your happiness depends on perspective alone. If you fill the rest of your time with drugged experiences and self-pity, you'll only be proving me right about you." As the older man spoke he pulled up a chair and at down beside Harry.

He took a moment to reflect the words spoken by his professor and then carefully, he responded.

"Fine, you're right. A different perspective would be…. Nice." He sighed and then turned his eyes towards Snape, eyebrows pressed together in thought. "Help me, though. Please?"

"I-…" It was the first time Harry had seen Snape at a loss of words and he couldn't help but give his professor a half smile as he continued, "How do you suppose I do that?"

His smile faded as he thought about it. "Just, er, give me a chance? Let me, well, that is to say, sir… Give me the opportunity to change your mind, about me."

"Potter, I very much doubt you'll be able to do that. And anyway, you don't want to waste your time trying." He spoke grudgingly.

"No, but sir, you're wrong. That is exactly what I want to do. Even if it's the last thing I do get to do, I'm going to conquer you." As his words processed in his own mind, Harry blushed and started sputtering in a sad attempt at rewording himself.

"Oh, are you?" His professors smooth voice cascaded over him, making his blush deepen as the man quirked an eyebrow. For a moment, Harry barely recognized his professor, with the playful smirk on his face. He felt a stir in his stomach that made him shift uncomfortably as he looked up at Snape.

"Er, I worded that wrong. But, please. I think you can help me, sir."'

Snape hesitated, struggling to find the words to suit his confliction. "Fine" Was the best he could come up with as he stood and made his way toward his private rooms.

"Um, sir, where are we going?" He stood and followed his professor before the man had time to answer.

"To my rooms, where we will begin our occlumency. I will make an effort to not hate you as long as you stop taking those pills and stop being so self-pitying. We can… Talk. Before we begin every Saturday and Sunday. But only because it will make it that much faster and easier for you to learn."

By the time he'd finished speaking they were sitting across from each other in what looked like a sitting room. The colors were, of course, green and silver, but Harry didn't mind because the fire light that flooded over the room made him feel warm.

"Deal. So, professor, can you tell me why Dumbledore hasn't called on me to help him with any more horcrux's?"

"I can't say I know too much because the horcrux's are the one thing the Headmaster doesn't expect me to deal with. But as far as I do know, he hasn't called upon you because he's been having trouble finding any.'

"Oh." Was all Harry could muster in response, the one word filled with disappointment.

"Yes."

His deep voice made Harry shiver for reasons he couldn't explain, and he smiled awkwardly up at his professor. He wasn't sure what to say, all he knew was he wanted to change the man's mind about him. But… He thought for a moment before coming to an abrupt realization.

He'll never think anything of me if I work so hard to show him how great I am.

He sighed as his mind tried to loop a way around, as he tried to think how Snape might like his company.

Maybe I'll just be myself, and hope he likes me.

So he decided, but he still didn't fully know who he was. Or what to say. But just as his professor was mumbling something, he tried his luck as speech, anyhow.

"Fancy a game of chess?"

"Er, no. I don't particularly fancy a game of chess, Mr. Potter." Harry sighed thoughtfully at the usage of the 'Mr.' So polite. He rather liked it, he decided, but he'd prefer Harry.

"Do you have coffee?"

"It's a bit late for coffee, but I can make tea." The suggestion startled Harry, partially because he'd been joking about the coffee, and partially because he couldn't imagine Snape drinking tea of all things.

"Tea would be nice, if coffee's not an option. Though, to be honest, I have rather given up on the idea of sleeping." The thought, actually, nearly made him giggle. It seemed ridiculous he'd ever slept in the first place, but he knew he certainly couldn't do it anymore.

"You know, Mr. Potter, I think I might have something that can help you." As he spoke, he stood and made his way through the doors back into his classroom before returning, minutes later, with a small vial in his hand.

"Dreamless sleep draught." He breathed deeply and looked up to meet the perturbed expression on his professor's face.

"I know it's not uncommon, but with your idiocy of potions in general, I'm surprised you recognize it."The statement, Harry realized, was not only an insult, but also a question. Apparently Snape deserved an explanation he wasn't a complete moron, Harry mused.

"Well it was sort of a guess. But the only reason I knew to guess it was because of last year, and, you know, remember… 'The Half Blood Prince'?" Snape's expression faltered as he returned to his seat and placed the vial gently in his hand.

"Refrain from using that name. You know it was me, don't you?" At his question, Harry nodded, and he continued speaking. "I'm sure something Granger figured out, eventually. Well, then if you think about it, you're calling me a prince. And, as you can be sure I'm flattered by your compliments, It's rather steep." He wasn't sure, but Harry thought for a moment that his professor was, was actually teasing him.

He blushed, of course.

"Right, well, thank you for the potion, sir. If you've rejected the idea of chess, and abandoned making me tea, should we begin the occlumency?" He had a very pointed expression as he spoke because, well, as much as he wanted to connect with the older man, he'd need time to collect ideas of what to say.

"No, not today. There is no point in wasting my time when you're so tired and your drugs are still having an effect on you." Harry had never been so surprised at words, but right now it seemed his professor cared. And that thought was enough to let everything else go. Suddenly, Snape got up again and went into his classroom before swiftly returning and placing a second vial in his hand. "This is for the withdrawal. Take it in the morning and you'll be fine, and we'll begin tomorrow when you're well rested."

"Okay." He said it with complete confidence as he stared at his professor. "So, where is your bedroom, then?"

"Really, Potter, you think I'd bring you to my actual private quarters, did you? This is just a sitting room; most of the time spent here is waiting for potions that take longer to brew." The explanation seemed obvious now, and Harry blushed as he realized how presumptuous he'd been.

"Right, of course. Suppose we're not there yet?"

"There yet. I quite doubt we'll ever be there, I'm not even sure you know what there is." The man looked utterly offended and suddenly speaking was something Harry was unable to do. Then he saw that his professor seemed to be blushing a little, and he couldn't help but prod on.

"What is it you mean, professor? Thought you were making an effort to get to know me?"

"Yes, I most certainly did agree to that. But, Harry," The seductive slur of his name made him shiver, and he shifted his eyes up to meet his professors black ones, "I very rarely invite people into my private rooms. They're private, you see. And unless you want to get shagged, I doubt you'll ever step foot in my private quarters."

"Why?"

"Why what? I thought I just-"

"Not why that, professor. Why did you call me Harry, just now?" His eyebrows pressed together as he sought answers in the black eyes, and suddenly he was painfully aware that he had no right to feel the way he did. He was more confused than he ought to be. And he was worried. Worried the man wouldn't ever call him 'Harry' again. But he didn't know why it mattered, or why he cared.

"I thought we were trying to be more familiar, Potter." His name was practically spat at him and he realized he should stop throwing rocks at the glass house before it cracked.

"Oh, okay then. So who do you think will kill Voldemort, once I'm dead?" He wasn't much for casual conversation, and it was even harder to be causal when having a sit down chat with your most hated professor.

Though, he thought casually, I don't necessarily have to hate him anymore. He's saved my life many times. I'm allowed to like him. He knew it was silly to defend himself to himself, but he couldn't help it. He, himself, was a right hating bastard. And he was judging he.

"You'd better keep calling me professor, or sir." The threat was a surprise, for Harry had thought their conversation had moved forward. He nodded, though, and Snape continued. "I've no idea, honestly. Dumbledore, maybe? I'd love to do it. But someone like Dumbledore would make a lot more sense. In the end none of it will make sense, though, so who knows. I can't predict the future."

"You know a lot more about the future than a lot of people." He didn't mean to sound acidy, he really didn't. But he was still a little bitter. Snape didn't seem to mind. He almost smiled, actually.

Almost.

"If we have these conversation's every Saturday and Sunday, maybe I'll finally be able to make you as bitter as I am." There was no sadness in his voice, Harry realized, and he smiled. Of course the only thing his self-hating professor didn't hate about himself was the way he scared people. Children, particularly. Of course.

"It's getting late, Harry. Take the potions. One tonight; one tomorrow. And I'll see you tomorrow night."

He stood, legs still containing a small tremor, probably because of the drugs. He walked out the doors to the sitting room and back into the classroom he knew. His professor followed him, to his surprise.

"Walking me out? How polite of you." He turned as he approached the door and smiled at his professor as the man opened it for him.

"Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Severus." He made sure to pur the man's name before he bolted down the corrider.

He could faintly hear the protests of Snape. He would pay for it tomorrow, he knew.\

But it was SO worth it.

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Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Sorry it took a while.

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