Hullo there my sweets, sorry it's been so long. School has consumed my life. Anyway, thank you for any and all story alerts, reviews, favorites etc. It is greatly appreciated. Secondly, I don't own anything. Not nothing at all. Thirdly, enjoy the 4th chapter of The Potions Masters Incubus!

The Potions Masters Incubus Chapter 4:

Harry nuzzled into the warmth that was placed on the side of his cheek. He imagined this is what a newborn must feel like- warm, safe and secure. A sense of completion. It was nice. Very nice, actually. And it smelled simply delectable. Incense, some kind of earthy oil and mint tea leaves. He'd never smelt anything that smelled so comforting and homey. Harry curled closer into a ball, immersing himself even more in the warmth and it's companioning smell until he started to notice something. There were two identical things gently tapping his backside repeatedly.

They weren't disturbing to Harry. They felt as familiar as a soft pat on the back. But he didn't know what it was, and that is what poked at his mind. Harry nuzzled into the warmth one last time before sighing softly. He opened his eyes slowly, pale eyelids replaced by glossy, sleepy green orbs. He stretched out his small body, unraveling himself from the warm wool blanket like an uncoiling snake. He smiled at the thought.

He moved a lazy left hand to scratch his head but froze. He had reached his large, licorice black horns that circled around his ears. Pointy ears. Revelation had slapped him across the face. He scattered away from the armchair quickly, tripping over himself and falling on the floor. He scurried over into a corner and curled himself into a ball. His wide eyes were scanning the room, trying to figure out where he was. It was too small to be the Burrow. To quite to be the Dursley's. Too comfortable to be Grimmauld place.

"Where am I?" He whispered breathlessly.

"You, Mr. Potter, are a guest in my rooms. My rooms which you just made a mess of not to mention, woke up your hosts in the process of your destruction. Did your muggles teach you no home training?" A velvet voice hissed.

Harry blinked. He'd had too many unpleasant memories connected with that dagger-like voice to not know immediately who its owner was."Snape?"

"Your observation skills are exemplary as always, Mr. Potter."

Harry peered up, completely dumfounded. Why was he in Snape's rooms? Harry strained to remember the previous night but all he could remember was waiting outside of Dumbledore's office for something. Though what that something was escaped him as well.

"You're here because I, out of complete lack of sanity, allowed you to spend the night. Has your transformation tampered with your ability to recall memories or are you just being the stubborn brat you always were?" Snape lifted up the armchair manually that apparently fell back in Harry's panic attack.

"Why?"

"One worded questions aren't considered questions in my books or in any English book. Preliminary school certainly taught you that you need a topic in order to have a question." Snape's voice was surprisingly calm. Why was his voice surprisingly calm? Was Harry not the bane of the man's existence? Did he not make an effort to make Harry's life a replica of Hell's fiery pits of damnation? Sarcasm was still evident, so obviously Snape was under the Imperius curse…or was he? Surely a self-conducting dungeons bat wouldn't have let Harry-bloody-Potter into his rooms willingly…would he?

'What am I thinking? I'm obviously here because I'm…this.' He thought as he looked as his spear-shaped tail.

"I'm here because of this." It wasn't a question. He could see Snape looking at him, a quizzical, studying expression upon his face. Shells of loathing were dropped into Harry's stomach acid. Though he'd grown accustom to the look, he still hated it with a bitter passion. He'd always seen that glint in people's eyes as they look at him. The glint of amusement, of wonderment, of questions that were plentiful but too rude to ask. He'd always been looked at like those stuffed displays of extinct animals at the zoo. At least then, he was able to comfort himself by telling himself he was still human. He was still one of them, it was only circumstances that made him different. Now with the tail, the horns, the pointed ears and set of bat wings; all these new extensions that made him untrustworthy. All these new extensions that made him a thing. He could no longer whisper the comforting thought because it wasn't fact anymore. He wasn't human. He wasn't one of them.

"No." Snape said shortly.

"One word answers aren't considered answers in my book, Professor." He mimicked, glaring at the floor. He could hear Snape's growl trapped beneath the layers of skin that was his throat.

"No, you're not here because of that as you so astutely pointed out, Potter."

"Then why am I here, Professor? Surely you've better things to do with your time than to watch a arrogant, imbecile of a boy who has now taken some demonic, underworld form."

The next thing Harry knew his glare was directed from the floor to his professor's face by a strong, inescapable hand. He tried to wriggle out of the clutch but Snape's sharp fingernails dug into his skin and he hissed in pain.

"Professor you're hu-,"

"Look, Potter," Snape growled, clutching the boys face tighter so green eyes were forced to meet onyx. "I didn't let you stay here so you can wallow in self-pity, nor did I let you stay here because I want to use you as a subject to study for future potions. As hard as it may be to comprehend for a mind as stupid and naïve as yours, I am human. Do you know what that means?"

'That you're rubbing it in my fucking face?' Harry retorted inside his mind as he glared into the dark eyes he was forced to look at.

"Well? Do you?" Snape growled again.

"No, Professor, I don't." Harry spoke through gritted teeth.

"It means, that I have human anatomy. Which means, I have a heart. I'm sure this is shocking information, isn't it?" The older man said in a tone that obviously displayed he was trying to calm down. He let go of Harry and walked out of the room. Harry continued to stay, cupping his face in the corner. He looked at his hands. Blood.

'Beautiful, thanks bastard.' Harry thought as he dabbled his white shirt over the wounds, staining it red.

"Don't do that, imbecile. I'm not going to permit you to use my washing facilities and I don't believe you brought any other pairs of clothing." Snape said, his voice monotone as he crouched down next to Harry carrying what looked like a first aid kit. He opened the small metal container and pulled out a bottle of hydrogen-peroxide and a washcloth. He opened the bottle, put the washcloth over the spout and tipped some of the medical liquid onto the sheet before handing it to Harry.

"Here. I don't want Dumbledore complaining that I wounded his Golden Boy."

Harry blinked, obviously confused.

"Are you going to accept the help or not, Potter?" Snape said, obviously getting annoyed with Harry's slow-working mind. Harry quickly grabbed the washcloth and put it to his cheek. It stung, but not unbearably so. He looked up at Snape, who was now focused on recapping the supplies and putting them back in their designated place.

"Thank you, Professor…" Harry said sheepishly.

Snape looked at Harry, a stoic, stone expression on his face and nodded.

"And…I'm sorry…for being a brat and all…" He said as he held out the used washcloth. Snape collected it with a smirk.

"It isn't behavior I haven't already learned to expect from you, Potter. My apologies for my part in your wounds." He said as he straightened himself up from the floor and carried the first aid kit out of the sitting room.

Harry stared at the floor and chuckled a bit.

Severus Snape had a heart- shocking information indeed.

Hi guys! Thanks for the read! If you have any questions, comments or concerns, feel free to contact me or, if you are reviewing, slap it in there. :D Until next time (which will hopefully be soon).

~Rising Nightengale