Unfortunately, I am not JK Rowling, and, therefore, lay no claim to the wonder that is Harry Potter. As such, please hold the applause when you see another chapter up, as I am undeserving of such praise. But dropping to the floor and bowing to me—nay, even simply inclining your head reverently—shall suffice. ;)

So, at loooong last, another segment is IN! Actually, I reworded this one and reworked it to make it sound better. I know, I know, I hear that you're groaning. But fear not, loyal readers! I have finished with the next chapter, and it shall be up momentarily!

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Chapter Four: Through the Invisible Door [Severus]

Severus hurried through the throngs of students, his cloak billowing behind him as he attempted to forge a path without really meeting anyone's eyes. He clutched his books in his hands, balancing his ink and scales atop a precarious tower of books that were required for this year's Herbology class, and for the hundredth time he wished that his rucksack hadn't ripped. It was a secondhand one that looked a century old, but he'd had to use it because his mother couldn't afford to buy one brand-new. He knew people were sniggering at him behind his back, but he forced himself to keep walking—even though he could hex them faster than they could even think about casting a counterspell. People bustled everywhere, and he was concentrating so hard on making sure the pile didn't tip that at first he failed to notice the person walking beside him. He could hear the walking stick make a steady thud, thud, thud on the floor. He glanced up.

"Hey Severus. Need a hand?" Lucius looked down at him with a slight smile, almost kind.

Severus shook his head. "Nah, I got it. I'm almost there, anyway. I just have to get out of this bloody hallway."

Malfoy laughed. "Aw, c'mon, Sev. Accept some help once and a while; don't let your pride get in the way." He snickered at this, finding humor in the irony. His face turned grave. "Actually, Severus, I wanted to talk to you about something—a small matter of, ah, pride."

The boy noticed his friend's tone of voice and sharply looked up, causing some of his books to drop with loud clunks. Laughs echoed behind him, and, cheeks flaming, Severus bent down to pick them up.

Lucius, however, beat him to it. They both crouched down, but, as Severus grabbed hold of the book Lucius handed him, the elder boy refused to let it go. Malfoy's voice dropped to a low hiss, tainted with warning.

"Listen closely, and listen well, my friend. You're a fifth-year, so I would've hoped that you had learned the true meaning of being in the noble house of Slytherin by now." He narrowed his eyes to slits. "But you haven't. Gryffindors are scum on the bottoms of our feet, and yet you go running around with one! You're committing treason against your own House, Snape!

His voice had risen to a furious crescendo, and students that were standing close to the pair cocked their ears in curiosity. Lucius immediately dropped his voice.

"Make some changes, or you just might get your recompense, Severus. Remember it. I may like you, but my loyalty is to my House. Yours better be as well." His hand suddenly released the book, and Snape toppled backwards. Lucius stood, a disdainful expression on his face, and he turned on his heel, his robes swirling arrogantly behind him.

Severus sat there for a moment in bewilderment, angrily absorbing his elder's words. Snickering came from two Gryffindors that were standing behind him, and without warning, Snape whirled around. "Incarcerous!" Immediately, the two students were bound with ropes that snaked around their bodies, and Severus grinned maliciously. "Levicorpus!" They immediately flew into the air, hanging seemingly by their ankles.

"Don't you ever mess with me again, Gryffindors," he said with a snarl, "or something just might slip into your food." Their eyes widened, bringing Severus a hint of pleasure. They knew of his exceptional prowess in Potions, and what he could do was left to their overactive imaginations—which he certainly had no objection to. One thing Lucius had taught him back in second year was that sometimes silence frightened more people into submission than force.

He smiled without humor. Ah, it did feel nice to take control again, to channel his emotions into something productive. To forget.

Swiftly, he turned away from the hanging pair, the only sounds the soft treads of his shoes and the muffled yelps of the Gryffindors. Before he made to round a corner, out of sight, he turned to look back. They were struggling to loosen their bonds, which would only prove futile. Even if they succeeded, only Severus knew the counterspell to levicorpus—a brilliant invention of his—and he wasn't planning to tell the gits any time soon.

But then Lily's face swam into his head. She was always so kind, so empathetic, so strong-willed. He could imagine her reaction to his actions: Severus! she would say, How could you do such a thing? Just ignore them, Sev—they didn't do anything!

So? They were Gryffindors who laughed at him behind his back—they had to pay somehow. Lily never could understand the Slytherin creed; she never could understand the fact that punishing your enemy was a natural response to wrongdoing. Chivalry wasn't in the nature of a Slytherin. To a Slytherin, it was weakness.

But she would be appalled, probably, and more than a bit upset. But she hated him now, so her opinions—real or otherwise—didn't matter anymore. She didn't matter anymore.

But she did. Oh, but she did. But she would never forgive him, just like he didn't think he could ever forgive himself. He'd never seen her that angry, or that hurt, than back in that potions room. They used to be so close, best friends since they were little.

Then, only a few years ago, it seemed like they had begun drifting apart. They didn't understand each other as well anymore. Lily refused to acknowledge that what he and the rest of his gang of friends—and Slytherin in general—believed in was a good thing, and he couldn't understand how Gryffindor's do-gooder attitude would further the progress of the wizarding world. Their ideas of how to do things even clashed—He believed the ends justified the means; she believed it was the journey that counted. What happened in Potions was more than the usual fight, the typical argument between friends. Severus felt like it was the breaking point that had careened them onto separate paths forever.

And, because of this, he tried to block her out of his mind. He tried to convince himself that it was over, that it was time to move on, that she would never even look at him again.

That it didn't hurt at all.

So who cared anymore? He had only narrowly controlled his anger and tried to give up the classic Slytherin cruelty for her—it was for Lily that Severus had rejected his family's nature and Salazar's expectations. Now that she was gone, he would rid himself of any memory of her, any warm feeling, anything at all, because what he did was irreparable. Not to mention the fact that he now had no choice—there was no way he could go up against Lucius. Yet, anyway.

So as he turned and left the Gryffindors hanging in the corridor, Severus Snape changed—by walking away, he unwittingly stepped through an invisible door that altered his soul. And for a few footsteps, it began to close, intending to shut solidly on Severus's future and character permanently.

But as it closed, it was caught by a breath of wind, and it did not shut. At the last second, a breath of force stopped it from closing—a breath of humanity.

The two Gryffindors dropped to the floor, free and unbound.