Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the characters in the book.

Warnings: Contains abuse, sexual and physical, and swearing. The characters will not be cannon to the story. The Malfoy's will be good. Dumbledore will be as well. There will be no bashing of any characters and Voldemort will only be mentioned in the story; he will not make an appearance. If you do not like any of this, please do not read the story. You have been warned and have enough time to hit the back button and pick another story. Thank you!

HPOV*****************************************************************************

Waking up screaming, he frantically scanned his eyes around his dorm room. Noticing that the silencing charm he had put up did not fail him, he sighed in relief. No one woke up to his piercing screams, and that was a good thing; he was not in the mood to explain to anyone what he was dreaming about. He didn't even want to think about them but because of their persistence, he couldn't rid himself of the memories they caused. Let's just say, living at 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging, quite frankly sucks. He was reminded of that fact everyday of his life. Never was he treated right there; he was always told he was a freak and a burden. Sadly, he couldn't find the courage to think any differently; he really didn't actually know any different. He was always treated horribly, but it escalated a lot when he started doing "Freaky things." Someplace deep within him, he knew that those strange occurrences were heavily connected to why he was so deeply hated by his relatives. His Aunt basically ignored him but his Uncle, he was a different story. He was his Uncle's punching bag on a daily basis; he was other, much more horrid things to his Uncle, as well.

Wiping off the sweat that formed on his forehead, he walked out of his dormitory room; he went down the stairs and straight into the common room. He just sat in the lounge chair, and thought about his time at Hogwarts so far. He was hoping starting school would be a way to start life over but ever since he walked into the world, he was treated like a star. He really didn't understand why that was either. He was only truly aware of the fact that he supposedly saved the wizarding world. He was only a baby, though, so it didn't make much sense to him; do to his, "Saving of the magical world," he was now known as The-Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone but Professor Snape, Potions Master of the school, treated him like that. He quite liked that fact; the only problem, it seemed that Professor Snape hated him. He couldn't understand why, though, the man didn't even know him. His Professor almost treated him like his Uncle does; he's never hurt him, though, he's just disparaged him at every chance he got. He could deal with that; he was used to it and understood being treated like he was worthless. He didn't think his Professor would changed his behavior towards him. In fact, Professor Snape made it very clear to him that he didn't like him; the man gave him a detention the very first day of potions class. He couldn't understand why; he was just taking down notes on what his Professor was saying.

Thinking about the reason behind why he received his detention, he realized that he was about to be late to the very thing he was just musing about. He bolted upright; if he didn't move fast, he'd never make it to the Professor's office in time. Not taking any time to tell anyone where he was going, he made a mad dash down to the dungeons. On his way there, he realized he probably should have reminded Ron that he had detention. He hoped the red head wouldn't worry about him. Not that he knew if Ron would worry, he just didn't want any reason for the boy to be mad at him. Ron was, after all, his first friend. Feeling very drained from his nightmare and from running, he looked like a right mess as he reached the door to the Professor's office. Thankfully, he made it on time; maybe the man would be bearable since he wasn't late. As soon as he knocked on the door, he made his face blank of any emotions. He didn't want the man to make fun of his obvious signs of distress.

"Come in Potter," he heard his Professor say through the door. he winced at the tone, knowing it all too well. It was a tone his Uncle used often when he spoke to him. It was a tone that demanded no nonsense and usually indicated that any little thing could send the voices owner over the edge in anger. Shaking off his nervousness, he opened the door and found the Professor already scowling at him from his chair. The man had papers scattered across his desk and appeared to be in a horrible mood. The Professor didn't even bother moving from his desk as said, "Potter, there are cauldrons over there. Wash them. Even an insufferable whelp you could manage that." Registering his orders, he moved to the cauldrons. He was obviously not fast enough because the Professor sneered at him and said, "Get a move on it Potter. I'd like not to have to spend all night in your company."

He didn't even respond verbally; his response was in his action as he moved faster to reach the cauldrons. He just concentrated on his work, set to get it done as quickly as possible. He was quite used to doing chores. He actually did mind cleaning dishes while he was at home; he didn't think washing cauldrons would cause him too many problems. He knew, though, that if he didn't complete what he was supposed to get done, he would get it. With that thought, he made sure that his work was perfect. He didn't want to give the man any reason to be displeased with him. All through his task, he felt the Professor's eyes on him; it was quite unnerving. It was like the man was just waiting from him to mess up. Actually, it looked like a rattle snake as it watched its prey; any false movement would set it off and cause it to attack. Even though he found it unsettling, he didn't let it show. He was used to it, because his Uncle did it all the time. Actually, usually his Uncle just leered at him; he shivered at those thoughts and quickly shoved those memories out of his mind.

SPOV*****************************************************************************

He watched as Potter efficiently went about cleaning the cauldrons; he watched closely, because he thought the boy may have actually been using magic. He was that good of a cleaner. He was surprised that the boy hand't complained yet. In all fairness, there were a lot of cauldrons. Looking at the time, he realized that it was time for the detention to end; it was nearing curfew. Not actually wanting the boy to be late, he got up and walked over to Potter. The boy didn't seem to see him; he was too engrossed in what he was doing. Reaching out to put his hand on the boys shoulder, turned out to be the worst thing he could do. He watched as the brat flinched violently back. What the hell did the boy think he was going to do; he just wanted to tell the damn child he could go back to his dorm. Angered by the brats reaction, he was going to say something nasty to the boy. He stopped himself, though, when he saw the boys fear, filled eyes. He was quite shocked by them, really. He wasn't expecting the boy to actually look afraid of him. Honestly, he just thought Potter was startled when he touched him before, because the boy wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. Now, though, he wasn't too sure what to think.

Starling him out of his thoughts, he heard the boy ask, "Sir, I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?" Puzzled by the question, he narrowed his eyes and studied the boy. There was something odd about Potter's appearance. Not dwelling much on it, though, he gestured for the boy to sit down across from his desk. Watching Potter closely, he noticed the boy hiss slightly as the chair met the kids bottom. Lowering himself to a sitting position, he took a moment to think about how he was going to approach the boy. Potter's mentality right now about him isn't good at all; he isn't oblivious to the boy's feelings of him. Plus, Potter is shaking slightly; the boy probably is afraid of getting yelled at.

Hoping to get the kid to stop being scared, he tries to make himself look as non-threatening as possible. "Potter, you are in no trouble at all. I only wished to inform you that detention was over, and you could venture back to your dormitory," he found himself saying to try and soothe the boy's worries. He watched Potter relax a bit and straighten in his seat. The boy looked confused at his words. Potter was probably expecting a verbal reprimand and because he didn't give him one, the kid was wary of him. He couldn't blame him; the boy was stumped, because he wasn't being a total git. The price met for the job he does, he reminds himself. Actually, he was quite frustrated with his behavior towards the boy tonight, while they weren't with others. He could have easily dropped his role and been somewhat decent to the boy. It's just so engrained into him now, and he forgets how to let that part of him go. In fact, by giving the boy this detention, he was supposed to explain his attitude towards Potter; he was hoping they could start anew. However, his poor treatment of the boy will probably make that harder than he initially anticipated. He must continue to push forward in the conversation, though; no good would come from letting the boy shake. He thinks for a moment to collect his thoughts and says, "Potter, I know you do not hold much trust in me or the things that I say. I need, however, for you to listen to me now; it is quite imperative that you do so, and equally as important that you do it with an open mind. Can you do that?"

With that question he waits for the boy to reply; he doesn't actually think he'll get a verbal response so instead, he watches the boy closely. He can see Potter weighing his options, and trying to figure out what is likely to happen next. The boy is studying him, as much as he is studying the boy. It is quite unsettling to say the least. Finally he sees the boy nod in the affirmative and he continues on, "I know that I haven't been fair to you, and I haven't been exactly well-mannered in your presence. You must be asking yourself why that is, yes? Well, I must tell you quite a few things, and I hope you find it in you to believe what I am telling you. I do not hate you, Potter. I wish for you to cease believing that, because it is a false notion that you have. I will admit that I made it easy for you to believe that. I must apologize for that. You see, Potter, I have to pretend to harbor a deep dislike for you. Many of your peers have parents that are loyal to the Dark Lord; the Dark Lord is He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You may be wondering why I call him by the Dark Lord; I used to be one of his supporters, Potter. I am not now; I spy against him. I am on the Headmaster's side of the war; the light side." He pauses briefly to see if his student is absorbing any of the information that he just gave. Seeing the boy processing it, he waits a moment to continue speaking. Once he sees the nod encouraging him to talk once again, he says, "Your peers could report any of my behavior back to their parents that could compromise my position, and shed light to the fact that I am disloyal to the Dark Lord. It may not make much sense to you, Potter. Quite frankly, it would make more sense for me to befriend you on the orders of the Dark Lord and gain your trust; I do not have the answers as to why he would want me to belittle you and make me not trust you, but that is the way he wants it. I imagine his orders are the way they are, because of his hatred for you. You believe, Potter, that you defeated the Dark Lord as a baby; this may be true, so you may be wondering why I know my orders on how He wants me to behave in regards to you. Quite a simple reason, I assure you; he gave me my orders a long while ago. Again, I do not pretend that I understand his reasoning, but I must act upon his requests."

Once again closely watching the boy, he notices that confusion in his student's eyes; his mothers eyes. Giving Potter a chance to digest the mouthful he just received, he patiently waited until the boy was ready to speak. Finally the boy looks up and opens his mouth to say, "I believe I understand, Professor. It was a lot to take in, but I understand what you have just told me."

Nodding to Potter, I say, "It is getting quite late, and you are still out. Passed curfew, I might add. Do not trouble yourself so; I will give your Head of House notice, and you will not face any consequence. I do not wish for this to be the last conversation we have, Mr. Potter. I am allowed to give you as many detentions as I like, and we can speak face-to-face then. However, I believe I have a way for us to speak even when detention can not be readily available to you, if you so wish to engage in conversation with me. If you would consent, I have a two-way piece of parchment and we can speak at anytime with them." I watch the boy to make sure I have not taken any liberties that he is wary of. Seeing the subtle shake of the boy's head, he quickly makes his way over to a secure desk draw, opens it up, and picks up the parchments. Walking back to his student's side, he drops one of the pieces on the boy's desk. "Now Potter, you may write to me anytime; if I do not answer right away, do not become discouraged. I will get back to you and respond to whatever it is that you have written. I will be honest with you about anything that you may question, within reason of course. I expect you to be honest as well. If you do not feel comfortable answering a question, please do not lie about it. Simply state, I do not wish to not speak of this at the present time. I will not force you do tell me anything, Potter. I will not make you speak of things that you do not wish to discuss. Now, how the communication works is quite simple. You write whatever it is that you want to send and tap twice on the page. The ink will vanish and the words will appear on my paper. If you do not desire to send what you have written, only tap once. It will save the words on your page and if you ever want to send it to my person, just tap the page once more to equal two taps. It may sound a tad bit complicated, but you will manage once you've gotten used to it. One more thing, Potter, you will never run out of room on the parchment; it will magically add length for you to continue writing."

Watching the boys reaction closely, he can see that he's made an impression on his student. Possibly not erasing all the hard feelings his student may have felt towards him, but it was the start of putting aside the small amount of time they've known each other. Potter looks quite baffled and had the situation been different, he may have found himself amused; he wasn't, however, he was feeling a little apprehensive. He wasn't sure if the boy was going to agree to this. Before he could ponder further, the boy looks him right in the eyes and says, "Thank you Professor, I believe the parchment will come in handy. I also thank you for trusting me enough to give me it. It means a lot. Thank you."

Shaking his head, he gestures for the boy to start packing up, so that he could make his leave. He watches as Potter waves him a shy good-bye, and waits until his office his empty; it doesn't take long, and he packs up his own stuff and heads to his quarters to nurse a fire-whiskey. He thinks on his interactions with Potter, and finds himself unsettled by some of the boy's behavior. It was questions he was going to have to wait to find the answers to. He will be true to what he told Potter; he will not force the boy to answer any questions until trust could be fully established. Once that happens, he hopes his student will feel comfortable enough to be honest with him about any troubles ailing him.

Until then, he can only make guesses as to why his student flinched away from him, and hissed in pain when the chair met the boy's bottom. He didn't like any of the conclusions he came to; at this point, he can only hope that whatever Potter tells him, it will be better than what his mind is coming up with. Time will surely tell.

Please Review and let me know if I should continue this story! Please be honest about anything that I have written. My grammar is not always the best, and my spelling is worse than that. Please excuse both of those things. Honesty is great, however, I beg you all, please do not be harsh! Thank you!

:)