Chapter 2

I arrive at Potions trying to hide behind Ron, who is all but asking what I'm doing for which I'm grateful. As if I'd want him to know why I suddenly found need to hide behind him.

Let alone a need to sit in the back. Normally I'd sit close to the door for a quick get away.

But as that is where I usually sit, I know Snape will find me there. So, I sit in the back of the classroom, where it's dark and I can hide easier.

"Hi, Harry."

I turn, wide eyed, to Neville.

Shit. I forgot Neville sits back here in hopes of avoiding Snape.

But of course, he forgets that this doesn't work since Snape has a habit of bullying him (as though he believes it'd help Neville improve. Git).

But as I'm already seated here and the clock has struck the hour and the door has banged open and Snape is barking instructions for today's potion, I've no opportunity to move and no choice but to aid Neville as best I can.

Fuck my life.

Potions class has always been unbearable. Snape snaps one name at a time—

"Potter."

I don't raise my hand or call out to him so he knows I'm here. He looks up, glaring.

"Potter."

I should say something, or motion to him. Let him know I'm here. But I can't bring myself to move or speak.

"Granger, where is Potter?"

"He's in the back, Professor."

Shit! Thanks a lot, Hermione.

Snape's eyes scan the back until he sees me trying to hide beside a very confused Neville.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Potter. When I call your name you answer, is that clear?"

Caught, I straighten. "Yes, Sir."

"Is it?"

"Yes, Sir," I repeat louder.

Class is no longer than usual save for being unbearable in more ways than one with Snape breathing down my and Neville's necks. Which, to be quite honest, makes the class seem so much longer than it really needs to feel.

Somehow, we manage a decent potion that's barely passable and hand it in. Snape doesn't make any notes other than a tiny sneer before we make for freedom.

"Potter, stay," he commands.

Against my better judgment, my feet halt and I'm frozen in place.

Ron and Hermione give me sympathetic looks before heading to History.

Once the room is empty, Snape turns to me.

"I thought you had called me out on not letting you know I was in class. What more do you want?" I ask before he can yell at me.

"You want me to yell at you more about making your presence known in class? Last I checked, you weren't five and I don't expect you to act like you are."

"I thought avoidance was necessary," I begin. I stop. I don't want to bring up last night's events.

Snape nods. "Sadly, Potter, as I am your teacher, avoiding each other is impossible. Ergo it is the wrong solution. As for the right solution, well, that's what we need to figure out."

I don't think he'd appreciate knowing I fantasized about him last night. If anything, that'd be awkward for both of us, a reason for me to hide in my dorm room for the rest of my school life, and incentive for him to make my life more miserable than he already does (forget Umbridge!). He's vengeful after all.

"Though I loathe saying it, as I'd like nothing better than to avoid you myself, we have to talk."

"How?" I ask. "I kissed you and not because I like you, Sir."

I wait, unsure whether to go on. "Continue," he says.

"I wanted you to shut up and since telling you would get me into detention with…a billion points on my head."

He smirks, "An excellent exaggeration."

I ignore him. "I decided to do what I thought at the time was the next best thing. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"All bad ideas seem good when first thought of. You're not entirely at fault, though, Potter. I shouldn't have kissed you back."

"But you did."

"I did. As we agreed, snap decisions don't always play out the way they should. For that reason, I'm not going to punish you for last night's…incident. We are both in agreement that neither of us harbor inappropriate feelings for each other, as you seem ought to have."

I avert my gaze. "So you…"

"Yes," Snape smirks. "I'm quite aware of your…desire for Lupin, which I think are…were?"

"Were."

"Were badly misplaced."

"Because he was a teacher, I know."

"Potter, you're not the first student to have fancied a teacher. Nor are you the first to fancy a teacher of the same sex."

I can't look at him.

I'm shaking as badly as a leaf in the wind. I feel as though I'm about to be torn off whatever tree I'm attached to and fall where I'll be trampled on, eaten at, and disintegrate into the earth.

Snape continues on, ignorant of any personal trauma I'm experiencing. "But regardless why we kissed each other, it happened and it would be best we find a way to come to an agreement."

I nod.

"Any suggestions?"

"Don't make me want to shut you up?"

He chuckled.

I lift my head looking at a smirking Snape.

"I suppose that's a start," he agrees. "I'll keep my…criticism minimal at best. In which case, there should be a little effort on your part as well. Apply yourself in my class—both of them, Potter. I mean that. The less you give me to criticize the easier it will be for me to not take any bait."

"It'd be easier to apply myself at Occlumency if you were actually teaching me!" I shout. Snape narrowed his eyes, frowning.

"Watch your tone, Potter."

"Why?" I snap. I don't know why I'm letting my anger get the best of me again. I open my mouth to continue. Snape seizes my shoulder, squeezing it in a death grip. I silence, losing all train of thought.

"Potter, regardless what you think of me, I expect enough respect from you to at least listen and obey when I give you a command. Now calm down. Letting your anger rule you will allow the Dark Lord to feed thoughts to you. You think this connection you have is one way?"

I blink. That's exactly what I thought.

"It is never one way, Potter. Each time I use Legilimency on you, you have an opportunity to look into my memories and thoughts as well. However, I don't expect you to know how to do so. The Dark Lord can look into your thoughts as easily as you can his, and he will use this connection to manipulate you. That is why you must learn Occlumency. That is why it is so important that you follow my directions. When I tell you to apply yourself at a task, I expect you to do so despite how much you hate me."

We glare at each other, but I've nothing more to say on the matter.

"Have we an agreement for now?"

"Yes Sir."

He backs away. "Get out."

I almost run for the door. By now, half of history has passed and there'd be no point in going to it. What else would I do? Sleep?

I'm half afraid that if I sleep, I'll have another wet dream involving the notorious Potions Master.

So instead, I head back to Gryffindor and rush to the dorm, collapsing onto my bed, and scream into the pillow.

What else am I going to do until lunch?

#

"What happened?" Hermione asked at the same time Ron asked: "Snape bust your balls, mate?"

I wave them off not wanting to talk about any of it. It's not as though something horrifying happened after potions. Nothing I wouldn't expect Snape to do, anyway.

And for busting my balls…well…did he? Kind of, but not enough to complain about it to my friends.

He's not at the staff table, for which I'm very grateful. The less I see of him, the better. Sure, complete avoidance is impossible. But I still don't want to see him if I can help it.

"Harry," Hermione said, tugging my sleeve, "what happened?"

"Nothing," I insisted. "We talked about Occlumency. That's all." No need to tell her we talked about last night.

Hermione knit her brow and narrowed her eyes, frowning.

"Really, Hermione, nothing happened. We just talked. That's all."

"Nothing about last night?"

"Why would we talk about last night? It's embarrassing and that he didn't bring it up is proof that he doesn't want to talk about it either," I lie.

My breathing hitches when Snape enters the room, robes sweeping the floor behind him as he takes his place next to Professor McGonagall, barely attempting to hide a sneer in Umbridge's direction.

I look at my plate.

"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked. "You're face is red."

"I'm not feeling all that well," I say. "I'm going to go get some sleep."

Crap. I don't want to sleep if I can help it, but they'll expect me to be in bed when Ron comes to check in on me later—if I manage to convince them I'm really sleep deprived.

I stand and seize my bag.

"Bye," I say, striding toward the door as fast as I can.