Chapter 1

Severus Snape scowled to himself as he stormed down the corridor to his chambers, robes billowing ominously behind him.

Damn that Potter brat… and the Werewolf! How dare that parchment insult me! Zonko's merchandise my arse!

He spat out the password to his rooms, refusing to admit that the damned parchment had hurt his feelings. He was, after all, above such things.

He headed straight for his Firewhiskey, pouring himself a generous glass. Downing that in two swallows, he poured another, taking the decanter with him to the armchair in front of the fire.

Even a piece of parchment thinks I'm ugly. He wiped away the tears running down his cheeks, insisting that they were from looking in the fire for too long.

Three large drinks later, Severus decided it was time to turn in. He readied a hangover draught before collapsing into bed, not bothering with a shower.

Harry slowly made his way back to the Gryffindor common room. He wasn't angry at Lupin. He was just doing his job. And he hadn't given Harry detention or taken points – for which he was grateful.

But, he couldn't help be angry at the Marauders' Map. When it had insulted Snape, he was sure he'd seen a brief look of hurt on the professor's face, before it was covered by anger.

Sure, Harry didn't like Snape very much, but he didn't think he was ugly. He certainly didn't deserve to be insulted like that; in such a cruel, childish way. To attack his appearance, something he couldn't help, disgusted Harry. He knew what being called names could do to a person. He'd been called enough of them. Freak, ugly, runt, loser; some worse, some not so bad, all with the same intent and affect. He didn't want anyone else to feel that way, either. Especially not because of him. And he did feel guilty about the Map. If he hadn't been out breaking rules, he wouldn't have been caught by Snape, and Snape wouldn't have been called greasy, or told he had a big nose.

He gave the password to a disgruntled Fat Lady and made his way to bed. I should apologise, he thought, as he changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed, setting his wand and glasses on the bedside table.

He drifted off to sleep, planning on apologising to Snape after his next class with the man.

It was two weeks before Harry had gathered enough courage to face the frightening Potions Master.

Finally, the bell rang, signalling the end of class. Harry took a breath, preparing himself for what he was about to do.

"I'll catch up with you two in a moment," he told his friends, his look saying he'd explain later. They shrugged, nodded and left for lunch.

Harry made his way to the front of the room, to Snape's desk, where the man in question sat, marking papers.

"Professor?" He asked timidly, and waited to be acknowledged. It took a few moments before Snape looked up. He said nothing, but the look on his face spoke loud enough. "Er… I… wanted to apologise." Harry felt his face flush, as he adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and stared at the desk in front of him. He glanced at his teacher's face to gouge a reaction. Seeing the mildly confused look, he continued. "F-for last week." He paused, trying to build his waning courage.

Before he could continue, however, Snape spoke. "You finally wish to apologise for breaking a rule, Potter?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Not for that, sir…" he readjusted his backpack again and pressed on. "For… the parchment. I didn't know it would – or could – do that. I'm sorry it insulted you, sir. You don't deserve that. And… and for what little it's worth… I don't think you have a big nose. I-I don't think you're ugly." He mumbled the last two statements, barely loud enough for Snape to hear.

"Get out."

Harry felt his face flush as he fled the room, making his way to the Great Hall as quickly as possible.

He didn't know what sort of reaction he'd expected from his professor, but that wasn't it.

The dismissal was full of cold fury. He didn't think he'd ever heard Snape so angry. When he'd risked a quick glance to the man's face, he'd only seen a blank mask, broken only by the rage in the cold, black eyes; the emotion so strong that even the usually-collected man couldn't hide it. He dared not push his luck by lingering.

They probably wouldn't find my body for weeks… he mused, grimly; trying to rid himself of the embarrassment of his apology and the fear of Snape's anger.

Finally, he made it to the safety of the Great Hall, and the welcome company of his friends.

With a made-up excuse, he tucked in to his food, letting the buzz of chatter envelope him, pushing his worries aside. For now.

Severus sat rigidly in his chair for a few minutes after Potter left. He couldn't believe the nerve of the brat! How dare he spout such lies! How dare he bring up the previous week's incident like that – pretending to be remorseful, of all things! He growled as he went back to marking, being particularly harsh on the current essay.

What is that whelp trying to pull? Is he trying to further the insult?

He closed his eyes, tight and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Giving up on grading, he swept out of the classroom to catch the last few minutes of lunch before having to return to teaching. He refused to dwell on his emotions. At least until later in the evening.

He arrived in the Great Hall in time for the last ten minutes of lunch.

As he sat down, he allowed his gaze to sweep the room. His eyes finally landed on Potter.

The boy was laughing with his friends, eating his lunch.

Probably relaying the hilarity of his Professor Bating, he thought, bitterly. He helped himself to a small slice of shepherd's pie and a cup of tea, his glare not leaving Potter.

"Is everything alright, Severus?" Lupin's soft voice broke into his thoughts.

"Not that it is any of your business, but yes, everything is just peachy," he bit out, sarcastically. Before Lupin could get in another word, concerned or otherwise, Severus stood abruptly and swept out of the Hall.

Blasted wolf, he scowled as he sat down in the chair he'd left only minutes before. Not even five minutes until the next class began. He just knew he was in for a headache. Third-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

Damned know-it-alls and spineless twits… he glared at the back of the classroom, trying to reign in his emotions. He didn't want to render the incompetent little dunderheads completely useless. It would only serve to anger him further and worsen his inevitable headache.

When the bell rang, he rose to greet the next class, only just managing to bottle his anger.

Finally, after forty-five excruciating minutes, the class ended; the students hurrying to pack up and leave, not willing to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.

Severus remained at his desk until the last student had gone. He waited a few moments, listening as the footsteps got further and further away, until letting out a low growl and storming up to his office. As he'd predicted, he had a headache. He retrieved a pain-relieving potion and sat at his desk to take it.

Thankfully, he had a free lesson. The only one of the week, this week. Damned Werewolf. He downed the potion and rested his face in his hands; elbows on the desk.

His mind thought back over the past week. He was suppressing the hurt at the parchment's words quite well, until the Potter spawn decided to bring it up again.

The past week had grated on his nerves more than usual. It seemed that everywhere he went, someone had a new – or old – name to call him. It was wearing him down. It all built up. Every day.

He took a deep breath as he willed his emotions away. The little bastard, he thought. As good an actor as he is, I don't believe him for a second.

As much as he'd always wanted at least one person to care, he dared not believe it was possible. He'd only be setting himself up for heartbreak and humiliation.

He ran his hands through his hair in aggravation before crossing his arms on the desk and burying his face in them, intending to relax for a few moments, as the potion set in, before forcing himself to continue his marking.

"Professor?" A timid voice broke the silence of his office, only moments later. Harry fucking Potter.

"What!" He barked, not raising his head.

"May I come in?" The boy's voice was quiet, but determined… nervous.

"What do you want now, Potter? Don't you have class?" He finally looked up to glare at the nervous thirteen-year-old.

"Yes, sir. But I –"

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for truancy, Potter," he growled out, hoping that would make the insufferable child leave.

"Yes, sir." The boy was really getting on his nerves. He glared harder. "I-I wanted to tell you that I meant what I said this morning, Professor. I'm really sorry for what happened last week." He bit his lip, waiting for a reply.

Severus had none. He turned his head and focussed his glare on his desk.

The next thing he knew, Potter was settling in the seat in front of his desk.

"What do you think you're doing, Potter?" he lifted his gaze to the boy's face once more.

"I… don't know. I just… wanted to make sure you're ok. I don't want to… pry, but last week, I saw how upset you were when the parchment said those things.

"I know we never get along and we don't particularly like each other, but… I know how it feels to be insulted like that. No-one should be made to feel that way…" he lowered his eyes to the desk, not sure why he cared. He could feel his cheeks heating up again, He didn't want to sound so… girly, his mind provided. But, the look on Snape's face told him everything was not alright. The man looked tired.

Severus sighed. He felt exhausted all of a sudden. "What are you playing at, Potter? I'm insulted that you think that I'll fall for any of your imbecilic pranks. What that blasted piece of paper said certainly had no affect on me. Such childish comments do not concern me, I assure you. You can rest soundly tonight, with the fact that my feelings were not damaged.

"There. Is that what your Gryffindor sensibilities needed to hear?" Severus gave a deadpan look at his least-favourite student, hoping that would get rid of him. Alas.

"Professor. I really am sorry. I'm not trying to trick you." He leant forward, slightly, and continued, "I mean it. I know how it feels. The comments may seem insignificant, but they build and build, and they hurt more every time. Eventually, you start to believe them.

"The parchment may not have sworn at you, but it certainly added to what has already been said to you in the past.

"I saw your face. You were hurt." The look on Potter's face was too much. Severus couldn't take anymore. He was at the end of his rope.

"Well, isn't this wonderful. Saint Potter is here to save the day, again. The brave Gryffindor is here to comfort me, the emotionally wounded Slytherin. Certainly, this will be the foundation to building the bridge between Houses.

"An act to assuage the nagging need to be everyone's hero? Even to your 'Greasy Git' of a Potions professor? The 'Dungeon Bat'? Oh, yes, Potter, I know the charming names your delinquent little peers have so fondly bestowed upon me.

"I don't need pity. Least of all, yours!" He slammed his hands down on the desk, startling Potter, before he stood up, knocking his chair over and storming to the corner of his office, one hand on his hip, the other over his squeezed-shut eyes, willing the suddenly threatening tears away.

With his back to the room, and his eyes closed, he didn't see the brat get up and walk over to him.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. His whole body tensed at the gentle touch. He didn't move, for fear of striking the boy. Then, the next thing he knew, skinny arms were being wrapped around his waist, in a tight embrace; the boy's head resting on his back.

Harry Potter was hugging him.