I wrote this. Really. Is there anything to it? I wrote it. I published it. There's no special author notes or anything. Just review, please. Reviewers make my day burst into bubblegum. I like gum. I guess it's one of these 'what if' stories. I was thinking: what if a cauldron.. and a potion..exploded, and Harry took the blow for Snape? On purpose? This is what happened. It's crap. Who cares anymore.

Harry stared at the cauldron. Something was off about it. It was all wrong, all of it was wrong and then he wondered why and then he knew.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to do it but the cauldron began rocking. The ingredients, no, the ingredients, they were all wrong, all of them were wrong, Neville thought they were right, they were wrong wrong wrong, it wasn't supposed to happen..

Snape opened his mouth to yell, Harry wasn't sure what, he didn't hear it, because then the cauldron tipped and smoke and coughing and he couldn't breathe and the liquid spewed out onto the walls and ceiling and floors and soaked through them easily like acid and then it was acid and flashes behind his eyes and then the cauldron shattered and he tackled his professor and he couldn't hear anything.

Pieces of the cauldron skewered his arms and the hot, (hot, hot, hot, it was so HOT) liquid poured down his arms and face and back, soaking through his clothing easily but not through his skin, but it still burned so much (so much even his scar couldn't compare to the immense pain he was feeling right now) and he was protecting his Professor.

His body was protecting his Professor, like a typical shield, and he was towering over him and making his Professor scrunch up into what was probably an uncomfortable position to shield him all and not one ounce of the liquid splattered on his Professor, it was all on him him him.

He didn't know why. But he did it and he didn't feel one bit sorry for himself as black closed in around the edges of his eyelids. He felt the students thundering out of the room hurriedly, and he felt Snape shaking him, muttering over and over about something, and he felt dizzy and he felt like giggling and laughing and spinning and twirling and leaping out a window and swimming and drowning and dying all because it was so eccentric and yellow, orange, pink, red, blue, flashed under his eyelids.

And then he saw nothing, heard nothing, and he was satisfied for some reason but he couldn't know why and then he just..went away, into nowhere-land...

Severus Snape's P.O.V:

All Severus knew was that when everything went back to normal (for once, he really, really, really hoped it would go back to normal soon) Neville Longbottom would have a million detentions on his hands.

He didn't expect somebody to leap infront of him (and by leap he did mean leap) and save him. He didn't expect it at all, and even then, it would surely not be Potter. But it was Potter. If somebody had the guts to save him, it'd surely be somebody else; Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode (despite her Crabbe-like appearance, she was actually fully functional and one of his favorite students, Slytherin or not) or Theodore Nott, but not a Gryffindor, and certainly not Potter.

Potter was a mess, the flesh on his arms torn to ribbons, slumped over and ruining his robes, but he didn't really care about that, all he cared about was Lily Lily Lily and (please don't be disappointed in me Lily) but somehow he cared about the Potter boy too and the students were gone and he wasn't bringing Potter up to the hospital at all, no, he was not doing anything of the sort. He was just sitting there, muttering over and over again to himself, but then he stood and took Potter in his arms and the next thing he knew he was slumped over in a chair next to Potter's bed, head in his hands, alone, and it was dark.

His lip was torn, (much like Potter's arms were) from biting, chewing, gnawing on it so much, it was a horrible habit that he had never gotten rid of.

He did not notice that he had reached out a hand to settle it onto the Potter boy's head and run his fingers through his hair, until he felt the (not so tangled and messy) black hair underneath his fingertips and he was shocked by his own actions but he just could not pull away. But oh did he want to so badly..

But he did not and he frustratedly pulled on the silky black strands of hair underneath his hand and Potter.. Potter, he did not react, he did not move, he did not yelp.. he was acting dead. But he was not, Poppy had told him that he would be just fine in under a week, so why was he feeling this way?

2 days later

Harry Potter's P.O.V:

He felt a frustrated tugging on his hair, and it hurt. He wanted to wake up, oh, did he want to wake up oh so badly, but he was lost in the sea of faces. They circled him, drawing closer, but usually they taunted him. They did not taunt him; they only stared at him.

There was Dumbledore (no, Professor Dumbledore, he reminded himself, but he wasn't too sure why) and his mother, and father and Dudley and Vernon and Petunia (when did it become Vernon and Petunia?) and Hermione, and Ron, and Madame Pomfrey, and Malfoy, and Professor McGonagall, and Malfoy's supposed 'friends', Crabbe and Goyle. And then the one that shocked him most of all, but he wasn't too sure why- Professor Severus Snape.

In a flash of bright light, Dudley, Vernon, and Petunia were gone. He waited, but he wasn't sure why. Then Malfoy, and Crabbe and Goyle disappeared; while his so-called 'family' made no sound as they disappeared, the Slytherins' harsh laughs echoed in his ears as they dissipated. And then Pomfrey smiled at him kindly and so did McGonagall, and then the two disappeared.

Only seconds passed until Dumbledore disappeared. And then right afterwards, his mother and his father went with quiet, knowing smiles at him. And then Hermione and Ron disappeared.

Snape stared at him, not disappearing. Minutes passed, and he waited and waited and then he noticed something. Snape was not leaving. He was not leaving; while the others left in under three minutes each time, he never left, and he counted the minutes and he still didn't leave. And then the Snape-head grew a body and he calmly walked over to Harry in the sea of darkness and brushed his hair back from his face.

And then he woke up.

Severus Snape's P.O.V:

Severus didn't know why, at all. He never knew why, but each day, he always came back and carded his fingers through Harry's hair. He never knew why and he never asked himself why after the first day; he simply did it. And he really tried, he really did, to get his fingers out of Potter's hair, but why, why, why did they choose to be tangled in the large mass of black hair just then?

Potter blinked sleepily and raised his eyes to meet Severus's. Severus tried futilely to pull back, and Potter's eyes widened to the size of Bludgers, but then he did something completely strange.

Potter relaxed into the touch, nudging his head back underneath the long-fingered, nimble hand and Severus did not know why he just did not stand up and leave right then and there, but he did not and he simply continued with tending to Potter's hair.

"Thank you, Professor." Potter mumbled sleepily, and he stared down at the boy. Thank you, Professor? As much as he hated to admit it, he should be thanking Potter, Potter should not be thanking him.

"You should not be thanking me, Potter."

"Why not?"

"You are the one who saved my life."

Potter did not respond, and Severus continued,

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. A hundred points to Gryffindor for saving a Professor's life."

Potter froze, but smiled into the pillow and up at him.

Severus continued, ignoring the smile.

"And fifty points from Gryffindor for putting yourself in danger."

Potter snorted loudly and burst into loud laughter.

Severus ignored it when Potter fell asleep against his side. And he ignored the knowing smiles Poppy and Albus sent his way when they came in an hour later and found them; Severus laying on the bed, Harry propped up against his shoulder and flopped over his chest, Harry's left leg intertwined with his left leg and Harry's right leg splayed out over his right leg. It was a very uncomfortable position, for him.

But.. he supposed he could hold it, until the boy woke up.