Harry sighed with pent up frustration as his fingers slipped for the umpteenth time, the blade slicing awkwardly at the boomslang skin. It was strange the way the knife seemed to act upon its own volition, cutting away at the ingredients with little care and long forgotten purpose. The potion itself remained an unholy mess, staining the cauldron a horrific shade of green.

A grimace crossed Harry's face before he could contain it, not only did the concoction smell rank, the way it bubbled without heat suggested it was probably illegal in many areas of the wizarding world.

Bloody Snape and his sodding potion, this could have been child labour!

However it was worth it.

You see, this was Harry's seventeenth detention.

And even though it was like being perpetually damned to the deepest, darkest pit in hell, it was worth the pain of potion-making to be near him...

"POTTER!"

The sharp bark came from just beyond Harry's right shoulder, and he couldn't help but wince in pain, "Yes… Professor?" he mumbled quietly.

A sneer washed over Snape's features as he caught a whiff of the potion that Ron had just finished stirring, "Why are you wasting my precious resources making your filth?"

Harry felt his spine straighten defensively, "because you told us to, Sir." He cocked his chin to stare mutinously at Snape's chin, not quite brave enough to look him in the eye.

Ron looked absolutely horrified with his friend's sudden gumption.

"You, Mr. Potter" Snape began, "were always one to skate on thin ice, weren't you?" a menacing smile stretched the skin of his face ominously, his dark eyes locking with Harry's , before he seemed to turn away with undue haste.

Harry instinctively shrunk back, still shocked by his bravery

and his obvious desire to die.

"That's it, boy!" Snape's voice reverberated like the shot from a gun, ricocheting off the closed confines of the dungeon walls, "That'll be two detentions for your attitude… Oh, and for that atrocity of a potion."



The man was a monster. There was no other way to explain it. He'd been re-labelling mouldy old potions bottles until his hands bled. He'd have some terrible blood disease before the day was out, he'd be dying of some completely incurable illness and then Snape would be in trouble!

With quick efficiency, Harry finished his arduous job, climbing down from the perilous safety hazard that was the ladder in Snape's ingredient storeroom. Quietly he closed the door, fumbling with the keys, he finally managed to lock the door of the store room.

Harry was shocked to find himself standing in the middle of Snape's personal quarters.

Did I walk down here before?

"Yes you did boy."

Oh really?

… wait a minute, what the hell?

Harry swivelled in the space of instant to see an uncharacteristically normal looking Severus Snape standing a very uncomfortable distance from his person. He jumped back in belated surprise, only to have Snape clap him over the shoulder.

"Don't, Potter" he drawled, swirling a small amount of copper coloured brandy in a tiny shot glass "It is far too late for anyone to be making any sudden movements, watching you is doing nothing but make me feel sick."

It was very strange that in spite of the very frightening nature of his predicament, which included being stood down by a very dishevelled Snape who was sounding rather complacent (which Harry believed was NOT a good sign), all he could think about was the sensual warmth that was sinking through the shoulder of his robes. Snape's fingers resting too familiarly on the edge of his collarbone.

Harry desperately tried to shrug off the feeling, "What the-?", he stammered, "how did you know-"

"Merlin, boy," Snape muttered, his beautiful hands removing themselves from Harry's person only to massage his own shoulders, tension leaking from his face as he groaned in relief, "legimens. I'm a legimens. Honestly, how have you managed to pass your exams and still be thick as a troll? Your idiocy better not be a reflection of my teachings."

His voice suddenly seemed to desert him, as Harry struggled to affect a decent retort. His throat tensed up, causing him to gasp for breath.

"Just as I thought," came a snide voice, "not very much behind the public persona of the boy-who-lived. I'm glad to have had that clarified."

Harry suddenly felt the words come unbidden to his lips, "Well at least I'm not a bloody jerk!"

Snape's brows furrowed in response, his eyes reduced to snake-like slits. Then suddenly the look turned almost melancholy, but it was gone so fast that Harry questioned its existence in the first place. With steady determination he paced over to Harry's rigid frame catching him by the front of his robes, "boy," he started, "that's fifty points right there. I'd give you another detention, but twice in a row is already quite enough times to see your face, in fact, any more and might be seen as an overdose, now off with you!"

Then as if burned Snape promptly released Harry, only stopping to look long and hard into his eyes, before turning away in dismissal.

Harry ran away as fast as his legs would carry him, too frightened by his own emotions toward his surly professor to care a galleon about losing points.

Harry returned reluctantly to serve his second detention the following day, his body thrumming with what felt like anticipation. He didn't want to feel this way at all! Especially not towards his sodding bastard of a potions teacher. He hadn't even felt this way about Cho.

And all it had taken was a touch. Harry had dreamt about that tiny touch all night, replaying it in slow motion, prolonging the agony…

He couldn't take it any more.

He was just going to get this damn thing over and done with.

With a look of sheer determination pasted on his face, he marched straight towards the dungeons, his feet flying across the floors in what started to feel like a run.

It was unfortunate that he met his quarry in a most unsophisticated manner, slamming into him as he raced into Snape's private quarters. Unfortunately causing an array of bottled potions to crash to the ground, splashing both of them with what appeared to be the majority of the colour spectrum.

Snape swore viciously, "what kind of train wreck are you trying to re enact, Potter?"

Harry rubbed viciously at the spots that were already starting to burn his skin, "I don't exactly plan these kinds of thing you know!"

Snape scoffed, "you don't need to plan these things, boy", a slash of verisatum was dripping from Harry's chin, he reached out his hand and brushed lightly along Harry's jaw line, wiping the wasted potion on the hem of his robes, "accidents like this just seem to happen to you. Trust me, you surpassed your quota of trouble many years ago."

Harry flinched at the touch, which sent shivers of awareness down his spine.

Snape looked up in an instant, as if noticing Harry's discomfort. Their eyes caught, ensnared within each other, until the darkness entwined about the beautiful green.

Snape looked wounded, and broke the gaze almost as soon as it had started, fear washing over his usually calm demeanor.

Harry felt the question burst forth in a torrent of words, "why do you always look away like that?" he instinctively tried to reach over and touch his professor's slim white hand as a measure of comfort, only to have the Snape pull back as if in disgust, Harry felt an inexplicable wave of hurt overwhelm him, "why do I scare you?"

I was then that Harry saw a vulnerability in Snape he'd never felt before, a desire to show him affection… no… more than that…

Love.

Snape looked like he was choking, his face turning a strange shade of umber, his eyes appeared to tear but it wasn't possible, "you push me, boy," he turned away, crushing glass beneath the sole of his shoe, "you remind me of someone I lov-"

My eyes…

Snape seemed to compose himself somewhat, "someone I knew. Someone I now wish to forget."

Harry knew it was a lie. A horrific lie at that.

My mother… He had been… in love with my mother.

Snape turned away in anger, yelling back briskly, "Clean this up and then go away!"

Harry felt like he had just been hit by a bludger.

He had been in love with his mother.

Severus –son-of-a-bitch- Snape had been in love with Lily Potter.

And Harry – idiot-to surpass-all-idiots- was in love with Severus Snape.

Now all he needed was sappy romantic music to play over the scene and this tragic love story would be complete.

Harry realised there was only one thing to do. With a spontaneity which had often saved his life, Harry raced over to Snape's ingredients closet. Wrenching at the lock brought little success, so with a quickly muttered alohomora, he was almost instantly inside.

He took it upon himself to destroy all of the glass bottles on the first row of shelves that he had painstakingly label. Each glass that shattered brought a wave of satisfaction that washed over him like a soothing balm. With a madness that could only be described as suicidal, he rapidly penned a message on the door with his wand;

I shattered exactly 34 bottles.

Yours, Harry Potter.

It was with great pleasure that Harry Potter walked away from detention that evening, a smile gracing his features as he silently laughed to himself, eagerly awaiting the detention that awaited him tomorrow.

The knife slipped again as his hand felt slippery on the grip. He was nervously awaiting his arrival, he didn't even bother to turn as he heard the slam of the dungeon door.

"Finished the new batch of polyjuice potion yet, boy?" His voice was a beautiful symphony in the darkness, Harry relished the sound as it ran like honey over his body, "it better be bloody good after you destroyed almost a quarter of my entire stash."

Harry sighed gently as his hands returned to his labour, "No professor… I can't get the roots to cut right…"

"Oh for god's sake, Potter" Suddenly Snape's hands were warm upon his own, forcing Harry's hands to slice at a particular angle. His body was flush against Harry's back, so much so that he could feel the deep breaths that Snape was heaving into his sinewy body, "you cut it like this. This is why amateurs like yourself only ever get an E for effort in my classes."

Harry felt downcast, a swift sadness seeping into him.

"However," Snape began, "You are getting slightly better, at least you're not likely to lose a hand like Mr Weasley…"

Harry turned to glare at Snape, but the looked melted from his face as his eyes enveloped him in a comfortable tenderness.

And for once, Snape didn't look away.

That is, until Harry accidently let the knife slip jabbing it into Snape's unprotected finger.



"Sweet Merlin!" Snape jumped with shock as blood oozed frown the small wound, "Honestly Potter, if it's not your own hand you are chopping off, it's mine!"

Harry looked sheepish, looking around desperately for his wand to try and mend the damage he'd caused.

But on the inside he smiled wider than a Cheshire cat.

Snape was slowly growing more accustomed to him, and it wouldn't be much longer until he-

Loves me.

It was then that Harry reminded himself to accidently smash the ingredients on Snape's second shelf.