A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. It always means a lot to know that people appreciate one's work. Also, thank you to those who added this story to their alerts and favorites list.

Three cheers for my beta, Invader Shawn! Hip hip Hooray! Hip hip Hooray! Hip hip Hooray!....What? You all don't do Three Cheers anymore? You're so missing out.

*This chapter has foul language in it.
--Wait a minute! Is that anything like Parslemouth, only with ducks? Cool!
*No, no. That's fowl language and I don't think the readers would appreciate all the quacking.
--Oh. Well…wouldn't it be great if there was a fowl language and Harry could understand it?
*Oh man.
--I wonder what it would be called. Latin is always good! What is the Latin term for duck?
*Anas.
--Anas? Really?....Anastongue…Anasmouth…wow, that sounds really dirty….
*(sighs) Never mind. Please note that there is cussing/cursing/naughty language in this chapter.
--Quack.

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Chapter 3: The Gloves Go On

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Uh, Ding ding ding? – Harry Potter

Severus hated Death Eater meetings.

Loathed them.

Held a great abhorrence towards them.

The list could go on and on.

But it begins to get redundant.

So let it be known that if given the choice between being summoned by Voldemort and teaching a room full of Longbottoms while dressed in drag, Severus would be wearing a dress.

When he had first joined the ranks of the Death Eaters, he had been extremely young and impressionable. As a teen he had thought that Voldemort and his men were for the promotion of Wizard-kind. They had talked about sanctity of blood, the empowerment of wizards everywhere, and of the necessity to completely separate muggle and wizard life. That had been the pitch he had received from fellow Death Eaters. Young Severus had believed every word, and coming from a dysfunctional home because of an abusive, close-minded, muggle father, he had really took to heart the ideal that wizards should only stay with their own kind. So it was on the eve of his graduation from Hogwarts that Severus took the Dark Mark and joined the ranks with men and women who he had thought were going to make things better.

Now that he was older and very much wiser, he saw these people for what they truly were.

Cowards.

Manipulative, power-hungry, self-serving cowards.

And Severus could not help but feel that he was one as well.

He had been led to do terrible things after he had joined the Death Eaters. Horrible things. In the very beginning, he did question what they were doing, but be under Crucio a few times and one will stop questioning just about anything. In the end, he began to believe that torturing and killing were all steps to making the wizarding world a better place.

Severus never actually lifted his own wand to kill during his time as a Death Eater. No, because of his talent for Potions, his main job was to brew the necessary potions needed. Some of those did include poisons.

Very powerful poisons.

Poisons that killed.

Very well.

During the missions he did go on, he was usually the medic, and while he did cast spells and fight, he was also in charge of making sure his fellow Death Eaters got what they needed if injured.

Slowly though, Severus had begun to question again.

He never voiced it. Not like before.

No, now he had developed more cunning.

He began to realize that what they were doing wasn't helping Wizard-kind, only themselves. Actually, more so only Voldemort. Eventually, he realized he wanted out. Completely. No one left Voldemort, though. It would be like going up to a raging bull, wearing nothing but red, and doing the can-can in front of it. It was more than a certainty that one was not going to make it out alive. Severus should know.

He had witnessed it.

It had been only a few months before Voldemort had vanished after killing Potter's parents that Severus received his opportunity.

Voldemort wanted a spy.

And he chose Severus.

The Dark Lord had assigned him to infiltrate Hogwarts.

A teaching position in the area of Potions had just become available.

Severus had gone for his interview with Dumbledore, and could tell the man knew right off the bat that he was a Death Eater. Severus spent the next hour with his hand beside his wand, waiting to be attacked.

No attack came though.

He had gotten the job.

Years later, Severus realized that the old coot must have known that Severus was becoming disenchanted with his alliance to Voldemort, and knew that he could use Severus for his tactical needs.

Sneaky old man.

His suspicions had been confirmed when, a few weeks later, Dumbledore had arranged to see how the new Professor was fairing over tea. During their time, the older man had asked—in a voice that might as well have been asking for another scone—if Severus was a Death Eater. The younger man did not answer right away, but eventually confirmed what the older wizard had said. The Headmaster had only asked one question after that: did Severus want out?

That is how Severus had first agreed to be a double agent. It was true, there was no way for him to officially leave the Death Eaters alive, but he had denounced them in all ways conceivable and had—under much secrecy and with a lot of pushing from Dumbledore—joined the Order of the Phoenix.

Perhaps this would atone him of his crimes.

Then Voldemort disappeared.

Thanks to a little baby.

Severus was free.

Well, somewhat free.

Okay, not at all free.

The Order really did not believe that Voldemort was gone completely, and those amongst the Death Eaters who were able to get out of any type of retribution required Severus keep up with his façade. More so than that was his lack of absolution.

That came in the form of his job. Dumbledore offered for him to keep his job, even though he technically did not have to spy any longer. Severus did not like teaching; had never liked teaching. He felt that the required patience to make the little snot-noses learn the art of potions was above and beyond him in ways he could not even fathom.

It was terrible.

It was a punishment.

Which was exactly what he thought he needed.

So for fourteen years he taught dunderheaded witches and wizards; every few years, one or two would actually possess some extent of talent, and equally so, he would wind up with a Longbottom or two that would balance it out.

Then Voldemort had returned, and Severus was once again asked to take up his role as the spy once again.

So here he was.

Standing in a small, dimly lit room with several other Death Eaters all clad in the same dark black robes.

It was during times like these, when nothing important was occurring, that Severus had to find some way to amuse himself or he would surely go insane.

'Lestrange looks particularly grotesque today. Although it does look like he put a little effort into his appearance. He brushed his tooth. Heaven help him if he ever loses that thing.'

He took a sip of wine, no doubt from Malfoy's collection, and continued to observe. Shame that he ended up in Azkaban.

Not really.

Severus was happy for one thing, though. His godson, Draco, had disappeared, along with his mother, right after graduation. Severus didn't even know where they were, and was glad to keep it that way. Draco may have been a spoiled brat, but he did not deserve the life Severus had chosen. Voldemort did not even bat an eye when the two vanished. In fact, even though the Malfoy's were not amongst their ranks any longer—or perhaps because of this fact—Voldemort had set his headquarters in the illustrious manor the three blondes had once called home.

Severus brought himself out of his melancholy thoughts and returned to the present time.

'Oh, how nice, Macmillan is trying to impress the other Death Eaters with some tale of torturing a muggle. Little do they know, Macmillan is afraid of muggles. If I remember correctly, Macmillan, the last time you encountered a muggle, you screamed like a girl. Yes, very macho.'

Bellatrix was laughing and spinning around the room. She loved Death Eater Meetings.

'Crazy bitch.'

He looked at other Death Eaters.

'He is inbred. She has slept with half the other cronies. That one cannot form a complete sentence without losing a few brain cells. Ah, that is quite nice. Fritson is talking to Jankle and Jankle has been robbing from Fritson's company for years. I might just tell Fritson that sometime soon. We have not had a fight in a long time.'

Instantly, Severus's mind shifted from his current company to a certain green-eyed teen and their fight nearly a week ago. Green eyes focused so intensely. The power around the boy at the time.

Severus shook his head. He must be getting too disinterested if his thoughts were floating to Potter.

Severus was more than glad that no one here had any sort of ability at Legimens. Not that any sort of talent would help. He was the best Occlumens around.

The only other that could be considered his equal was Dumbledore.

But Severus liked to think that this was one thing that he bested the old man at.

Every man did this.

It is a way to feel a little superior to those he feels as his rivals.

They have to find something that's bigger. Something they are the best at.

So for Severus it was, 'My brain is bigger than your brain. Nany nany boo boo.'

Alright, so Severus would never say such a thing as "nany nany boo boo."

But he did think it at times.

Finally, Voldemort entered the room and took his seat in a large, wing-backed chair. The little rat, Wormtail, was following after him like the dog he was. Snake-like red eyes roamed over his hoards of minions.

"Assemble!" the pale white half-monster bellowed.

The group present quickly formed in a semicircle. The meeting progressed in the same, uninteresting fashion. Different Death Eaters would get up and make their reports about the different missions going on and would either receive praise or punishment for the result. Severus never paid any attention to this part. He got sick of the insipid prostrating the followers would go through, and he especially grew ill when listening to Voldemort's smooth words of praise that were nothing but hot air and lies. The screams that occurred if a mission did not go as planned also got really old.

Voldemort rarely praised.

He always found fault.

Finally, towards the end of the meeting, Severus knew to draw his attention back to the room and listen intently to all that was going on. This was the time that Voldemort would finally discuss future missions.

"I believe the time hasss come my followersss to move forward in our effortssss," the evil wizard began as his snake, Nagini, came up and curled beside him.

Severus wondered if he truly talked in that snake-like manner, or if the man talked like that simply for show.

"We need to ssstrike the Order in a more formal fassshion. We have talked of thisss before, but now isss the perfect time to attack."

Severus listened as the dark Lord mapped out a plan of attack that would occur in a month's time. Before that, several smaller missions were to take place. There were to be several raids on both muggle and wizarding cities. Severus mentally cursed when the snake man did not disclose the names of those cities. That only meant one thing: Voldemort was going to be the leader of these missions from here on out. He would only disclose as much information as he saw fit, which was barely any at all.

"We are through with thesssse ussselesssss missions, my sssubjectsss. It is time to ssstart sssshowing our true power!"

Several of the Death Eaters began to cheer, fully believing that if they went through with this that they too would be rich and powerful.

'Deluded fools,' Severus thought as he stayed motionless. He did not fear any kind of suspicion for his lack of enthusiasm. Severus was never known as the celebrating kind.

The meeting adjourned shortly after the little 'pep talk.' Now it was Severus's turn. Voldemort never had him speak in front of the larger assembly, afraid that there were spies amongst the lower ranks and that Severus's role as their spy would be revealed. Severus almost laughed when he thought about this.

Almost.

As was the routine, he approached the high chair and bowed. Since he was so high up in the rankings, now that Malfoy was out of the picture, he did not have to bow as such, but Severus knew it fed the monster's ego, and he always wanted him in a good mood for his reports. It made him less likely to invade his mind. Voldemort required Severus drop his Occlumency shields when they spoke. Severus combat this by thinking up fake memories and putting them in the forefront of his mind.

"Sssso, SSSeverusssss," Voldemort began.

Severus really wished he didn't have so many damn s's in his name.

"What issss our illussstrious Order up to right now?"

Severus would tell his half-truths; that was what it was all about. He could not lie outright, because the whole trick with the constructed memories were that there were only some differences from the original memory, making it easier to construct and make strong. A completely made-up memory is fuzzy, rough, and very easy to spot if one is a true Legilimens. So he would tell of the training several of the members were going through, but would lie about progresses or what specifics they were learning. He would discuss certain missions, but would change crucial details like location or date. He had become so good at mixing lies with the truth that Voldemort rarely, if ever, entered his mind to double check his findings.

"That isss all good to hear, Ssseverusss. Now, what of our Harry and Albusss?"

'Potter's a lucky brat. His first and last name has no s's.'

"Potter is still training under my instruction."

"Ah yesss, and I am sssure you make it…mossst enjoyable for him."

"Quite." Severus said as he put on a smirk.

When he had told Voldemort that he was training the boy, the man had been pleased, believing that Severus could torture and destroy the boy's spirits in the name of training. Severus had already been told by Dumbledore to get Potter to do wandless magic, so the two orders almost coincided. He would get Potter riled up in attempts to unlock his power, and all he would have to change is the boy's reaction and Voldemort was delighted.

He had actually started to ease up on Potter after their fist fight last week, but now that Voldemort was planning on going on all these missions, he may need to step it up again to get the boy to progress faster.

"Excellent! I alwayssss knew Albusss wasss a fool. What isss the leader doing?"

"He is away," Severus said. "He left nearly a week ago for a mission of some sort of good will nonsense. And will most likely not be back for another week."

"Where did he go?" Red eyes narrowed. Voldemort never trusted Dumbledore.

"I believe to France to speak to the Giant and elf communities down there."

"Aha, how unfortunate," Voldemort said with a sickly smile. "The Giant community isss already under my direction. I hope that he found hissss welcome pleassssant."

"Indeed, My Lord."

These were all lies. Yes, Dumbledore had left on a mission of good will, but he was still in Great Britain. He was south, at the coast, discussing an alliance with the side of the Light and the oceanic Merpeople. The people of the sea had very rare potion ingredients as well as high standing with other magical creatures throughout the land.

"Now, there isss jussst one lassst thing to attend to." A bony, paste white hand raised an equally white wand and pointed it at Severus's head, "Legilimens!"

Severus was already prepared, and had his constructed memories of Potter and Dumbledore right up front and strong. He could feel the presence of Voldemort in his mind, it felt like death warmed over, and felt him reviewing through all the memories he had given the man to look at. If he tried to go any farther, Severus had a wall of memories of potion ingredients and techniques right behind them to throw the dark leader off.

Severus instantly reconstructed his walls as he felt the tyrannical man leave his brain. His mind always felt more tainted than usual after that. Dirty. It was all part of the punishment, though. That small wish that someday he will feel as though he had made up for the terrible things he had done in his youth.

Severus did not know if that day would ever come.

"You are free to go, Sssseverusss. I look forward to our next dissscussion."

"As do I, My Lord," Severus responded automatically with a bow.

He quickly exited the room. He knew it was time to go when he too felt like stressing his s's and sounding like a snake. He wondered if Wormtail talked like that now since he was around the Dark Lord all day.

'Probably,' Severus thought as he made his way out the exit. His mind played an image of the Master and his little rat having a conversation sounding like air being let out of a tire.

He really hoped he did not feel the burning pain of his Dark Mark calling him for a while.

He hated these Death Eater meetings.

Severus didn't even wish to think what would happen if he was called to fight again.

He felt wound up. He was desperately tired of this double agent life, but he could not see any sort of way out. He felt his shoulders tense at the thought of this continuing into the unforeseeable future.

Because the longer this war lasted, the better Severus's chances were at being caught.

And killed.

Well, first tortured.

Then killed.

Have to keep such things in order.

It's only proper.

This was a selfish reason to wish and work for the end of the war, but Severus justified it by the fact that it was not his only reason—though it was very high up on the list—and he was a Slytherin after all.

Severus finally made it to the apparation spot. The past two meetings had been during the day, making the manor seem not as ominous. However, now, under darkness with only a few candles scattered throughout, Severus was reminded of those old ghost stories he used to hear as a child. He shook his head and turned quickly to apparate back to his quarters at Hogwarts.

Once he was settled in his bed for the night, his mind went over what his life had become. He was a puppet between two very powerful wizards, and although it was his choice in the matter to help the Order, it made his life completely not his own.

He was actually quite glad that tomorrow was Friday, and that he would be having his first official boxing match with Harry. He would never tell the boy in a million years that his idea was a good one, but right now it almost seemed genius. Severus really needed to let off some steam.

The Potion Master eventually extinguished all the lights in the room with a muttered, "Nox," and tried to fight the nightmares for a decent night's sleep.

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Harry lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his room.

He was somewhat glad that the bed was not a four-poster like his one at Hogwarts had been. Those beds were nice and provided warmth and privacy—something very much appreciated in a large, cold castle in a room with four other boys—but towards the end, he began to sleep with his curtains open anyway. His constant nightmares had made him slightly claustrophobic when the curtains were drawn.

He needed the space.

Needed to know that the nightmare wasn't real.

That was the reason he was awake tonight.

Another nightmare.

They happened almost every night.

There was a little comfort in the fact that it was not Voldemort feeding him images anymore thanks to Occlumency, but he still couldn't stop the images in his brain from coming out to play when he closed his eyes.

He was tired of waking up screaming.

Harry reached up and rubbed his eyes until he saw the little stars and lines begin to form behind his eyelids. It almost seemed like a gesture to get rid of the sights in his mind, but it was really just because his eyes were so tired they ached. The ebony haired teen left his hands over his eyes for a minute as the stars faded away.

This week had been…different.

When Dumbledore—Albus—had said almost a week ago that he had made Harry one of the people in charge until he got back, Harry had thought the older man was nuts. He may be the Chosen One, but that did not mean he could tell people what to do. Right?

Right.

But then, people started asking him stuff.

He began to get questions about continuing surveillance missions, and whether or not they should follow certain individuals who had connections with the Death Eaters.

Harry had done his best to answer the questions, trying to remember everything that Albus had taught him over the years, as well as try and rely on what he had learned on his own, and even managed to give out instruction on what to do next or in case something out of the ordinary happened. There had been no true attacks, but the Death Eaters were definitely becoming more mobile. He had asked Kingsley a couple of times for his advice, and the seasoned auror was happy to help out, but left the decision up to Harry if the question had been directed towards the young man. What unnerved Harry the most was when Kingsley, in turn, would ask for his advice on a decision as well. He didn't know if he liked this leader stuff. He couldn't imagine people actually taking orders from him.

Snape hadn't done that.

The Potions professor was also one of those left in charge, but the man always kept to himself, and no one came to him with a question or for direction. Why? Because they would have gotten their heads bitten off, that's why. Harry figured that Snape had been left in charge in case a fight was to break out. Since his role as a spy offered him inside information, he would be the one to turn to in case the Death Eaters decided to attack.

Snape hadn't changed much since last Friday.

He still did not talk to anyone unless absolutely necessary. He gave a report at the weekly Order meeting about the Death Eater activities. Mostly that they were going to start attacking more and more civilians in the upcoming weeks and that Voldemort was getting more confident.

Training continued on in the same fashion, although Harry did notice that Snape's teaching had lost a certain edge. Not that Harry was complaining, but other than that, the two spoke to each other as they always had. In other words, they fought or Snape just ignored him altogether.

Harry was kind of relieved that the dour man still treated him the same as always, even if it was just a step up from complete and utter dirt. Snape didn't see him as some chosen leader. Snape just saw him as a kid.

Normal.

In over his head.

Exactly what Harry felt like.

Harry removed his hand and opened his green eyes to look once again at the dark room. He heard a snore coming from next-door, and realized that Ron had forgot to cast a silencing spell on his room. He had been forgetting more and more lately. Harry couldn't help but smile a little bit.

Ron had thought when he would begin studying wizarding armament with Kingsley that he would get to just look at weapons and armor all day long. Kingsley, as it turned out, was so enthusiastic about having an apprentice that he had decided that anything less than a thorough and complete training would be a disservice to the young Weasley.

So gone was the laid-back Kingsley. Now, the man could give McGonagall a run for her money.

Ron had several books that he had to study and he already had to take a test over what he had learned in the first few chapters. He was constantly muttering different spells that would give protection and shielding to things like clothes and shoes, and he had started to learn how to design different armor depending on battle situations, just in case the Head Auror decided to give him a pop quiz. Kingsley expected Ron to know his stuff when he started teaching the teen how to make armor and swords beginning next spring.

Until then, he would be doing theoretical work and learning basic spells and charms that provided maintenance and repair to the already made armory the Order had. That was to be his job when they went out on missions or if they went into battle.

Harry was impressed.

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were proud.

Ron was exhausted.

But to his credit, the redhead seemed to be sticking with it. He would grumble and complain about the work—sometimes quite loudly, too—but he did it. What's more, he had only asked for Hermione's help twice in the two weeks since he started. This fact had made Hermione nervous and she had begun to read over Ron's shoulder whenever the young man was writing his reports. She had yet to be caught doing this, but Harry could just imagine the fight that would take place when it did.

That one would be popcorn worthy.

'We don't have any popcorn here…. Maybe I should go buy popcorn…. I wonder if anyone else would eat it if we got some around here…. Dumbledore would…. I wonder if Snape eats popcorn…'

Harry blinked and rubbed his eyes once again.

Strange where one's mind goes when they were really tired.

The messy haired wizard turned over and decided to battle it out with his nightmares once more. Maybe he would win this time. Harry hoped so.

He needed the sleep.

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Late.

Harry was late.

He was in so much trouble.

Last night ended up leaving the young man exhausted, and he had ended up sleeping through breakfast. Why no one had woke him up, he didn't know. They always said he needed more sleep, but they also didn't want him dead either, and if Snape was waiting on him, he was surely in deep trouble. He had finally entered the land of the conscious at exactly ten o'clock.

Nothing like waking up to a heart attack to make a day extra special.

Harry quickly threw off his pajamas and grabbed his glasses and wand after he threw on a baggy, blue shirt, faded, old jeans and strapped his wand holder around his thigh. He hopped down the hallway as he put on his trainers and began to run down towards the stairs.

He stopped mid-stride.

He had forgotten the gloves.

He turned around quickly and went back the way he had just come

Tonks had been really cool about getting them for him. In the beginning she had been curious about why he needed such things. Harry had just shrugged and said he was interested in boxing, is all. The witch had just smiled, and when she returned the next day, she had handed him over a small bag that contained two shrunk pairs of red fighting gloves.

Harry ran into his room and grabbed the still shrunk bag and stuffed it in his pocket before he dashed off once again. He bounded down the stairs three or four steps at a time and sprinted towards the foyer when he hit the bottom landing.

'Maybe I will luck out and he will be—'

Harry came skidding to a halt.

Snape was standing in the entryway in the middle of the Persian rug. The dark man looked about ready to skin something alive.

Harry had a pretty good feeling that something was him.

"You are late."

"Yea, I know. I—"

"No excuses. You have wasted my time, little boy. Let's go!"

He was gone in a torrid spin of black robes.

'And things were going a little bit better,' Harry thought with a sigh as he got his wand at the ready and dissaperated to their training spot.

As soon as his feet hit the dirt, he was hit by a stinging hex.

"That could have easily been an Unforgivable!" Snape yelled as he threw another spell.

The battle was on.

The Snape of the past few days—the one who had began to ease up a little on Harry—was gone. The taunting was back in full force and possibly even worse. The two went back and forth casting hexes and curses. Harry tried his hardest to stay away from his more basic spells like expeliarmus and had improved on his shielding spells, but several of his more advanced Hexes needed more power.

"You are weak!" Snape bellowed as he easily blocked a spell.

Harry just gritted his teeth. He didn't want to argue. He would just let out his frustration when they had their boxing match later. If Snape even let them.

He managed to hit the older wizard a couple of times with a few stinging hexes and a confundus curse later on during the duel. Snape was able to recover quite quickly though, so Harry wasn't able to get any other hits before the man was lucid again.

"Nice try, little brat, but you don't have the power to do any sort of damage."

Harry was proud of the fact that he did not get hit as much as he usually did, but he was running around a lot more and was getting tired. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath and got hit in the lower back by a spell that, by the feel of things, was a pummel charm. He fell forward onto the ground and had to jump up fast in case the Potions Master was nearby or decided to throw an even more powerful spell.

"You would be dead now. Or someone you would be protecting would be dead. You are a failure!" Snape wasn't throwing any more spells.

He was standing right in front of Harry with his arms crossed and a sneer on his face. Harry wondered for a split second how the man was able to move so fast, but he didn't get to ponder this question as Snape went on with his glowing review.

"You are a disappointment to the wizarding world. You love the fact that you are a celebrity, but you do not want to do the work that is involved. You just want the world to love you and you can just lay back and let everyone else fight the war."

"That's not true!"

"Silence! You are spoiled. You have had the whole world given to you on this platter. You have adults bending over backwards for you, and you just keep taking and taking, and you will never do anything to help anyone."

"Stop this!" Harry yelled as his body started to go rigid. Was Snape trying to make him hit him again? Harry could feel his anger getting to him again.

"You sleep till all hours of the day and believe that is your right. Your precious daddy was just the same. He felt the world was owed to him. He was better than everyone else. The only difference is you seem to be even more of a dunderhead than him. You are manipulative and greedy."

"Tell me how my fighting is," Harry said through gritted teeth as he dusted the dirt and grass off of his shirt. He was supposed to be critiquing his fighting. Not attacking his character.

Severus snorted derisively, "There is nothing to talk about. You can't fight. You are hopeless. You and your friends are about as useless as a block of rocks."

"Leave Ron and Hermione out of this!"

"Mr. Weasley can't take anything seriously. Between his idiocies and your inadequacies, it is a wonder Dumbledore isn't just calling it quits and surrendering to the Dark Lord."

"Are you done?"

"Nothing else I could possibly say will help, so I guess we are done."

"Good. Let's fight!" Harry pulled the small bag out of his pocket and enlarged it with a flick of his wand. He wasn't even aware that he hadn't said a spell. He opened the bag and took out the two pairs of gloves and threw one of them to Snape.

"You're obviously in one of your moods and I really wanna hit you again, so let's go!" Harry said as he put his wand in its holder, and began to put his gloves on.

Severus quirked his eyebrow. "In a hurry, Potter?" he sneered.

"Whatever," Harry said as he hit his padded fists together a couple of times to get use to the new weight around his hands. He put both fists up at the ready.

Severus pointed his wand towards his mouth and flicked his wrist in an obvious spell movement. He pointed his wand at Harry's head, and though the man had just been harassing him, Harry didn't flinch as the man repeated the wand movement.

"For teeth," Snape said as he began to remove his robes.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked in agitated confusion, his initial anger ebbing.

"I will not need full robes to box, Mr. Potter," Snape said as he removed his black robes completely, revealing a collared button down and grey slacks.

Harry had never seen the man in muggle attire before, and it was throwing him off. Snape was lean, yet he seemed to have much more muscle than the black robes revealed. He knew the man was fit. It was obvious by the fact that he could run and duck and dodge for hours on end as they trained, but it was so odd to see the man in such a manner.

He seemed so much more human.

Snape wasn't the dark, looming force of hateful nature that plagued Hogwarts students and Harry with his overpowering presence and scathing tongue.

Now he just looked like a man.

'With really broad shoulders.'

Whoa.

Wait a second.

Harry realized he was staring at said man's body still and shook his head and looked down.

'I'm just wierded out 'cause he always wears robes. That's all. He is still the same Snape. Still a giant git.'

The teen looked back up to see the older wizard waiting, his gloved hands at the ready. It was almost comical to see the sardonic man with large, red hands at the end of his white cotton clad arms.

Not that Harry would ever openly laugh at Snape.

At least not to his face.

"At your signal Potter?" The taller man prompted.

Harry nodded and brought his hands up.

"Uh, Ding ding ding?"

Snape rolled his eyes but stepped forward and took the first swing.

Harry easily blocked it and began to return his own hits to his dueling instructor.

Left punch.

Right hit.

Block.

Duck.

Foot-work.

Harry began to lose himself in the movements just like he did the last time. The close quarter fight was intense and demanding.

Dueling was also intense, but it was all mostly magic and running. This was all physical and he did not have to think about his strategy. He just got out of the way and hit when he could. While that theory could work in a duel, Snape was so far advanced that the teen had to have a plan of attack to even stay close to par with his instructor. Harry had to plan his spells out well in advance and pray that Snape didn't change up his own moves in between now and then. Here, though, Snape wasn't a boxer and neither was he. Their entire training in the matter had come from when they were both bullied as children.

Harry came around and hit Snape in the side with a right hook and came up with his left to try and hit the man up higher, but he was blocked by Snape's arm.

The teen took a hit or two in the face and knew that Snape was going to have to heal his nose when he was done.

'I wonder if it's broken.'

The pain was also a form of release. Harry would have never pegged himself as a masochist—in fact, until very recently, if someone had mentioned the word, they would have gotten a confused look and a, 'Huh?' out of him—but the pain felt almost like an anchor. Like Snape, it was a firm reminder that he was just human and not some glorified 'Golden Boy' or 'Chosen One.'

A little different?

For sure.

But then Harry would be the first to say that he was a little different.

The punches and blocks continued on, both men getting their fair share of bumps and bruises. The minutes ticked on, and even though both men were tired, they did not want to stop.

Harry's mind began to wander as the movements became almost a subconscious movement. He thought about this week and his desire to not have people consider him the leader, because what if Snape was right? What if he was a failure? What if he wasn't enough? What if he ended up getting everyone killed? He had already gotten Sirius killed. He wasn't enough then. What if he got his any one of his friends killed next? He was not a powerful wizard. If he was, then he would have been able to improve in dueling more so than he had. Snape might have told Dumbledore that he was improving, but it was obvious that that was a lie. It was all a lie.

'I'm going to get everyone killed.'

Harry didn't realize it, but his hits were becoming increasingly harder and he was becoming more aggressive. He was lost in his own world completely.

'I hate that I can't seem to get any of this right. I hate that every other wizard in the wizarding world thinks I am supposed to be some sort of big savior. I just don't want to be so weak!'

Harry swung around his arm to strike Snape in the side. The second Harry made contact—or what he thought was contact—he started violently in surprise as he felt a terrible burst of magic, and saw Snape fly back a few yards to land on the ground with a muffled WHUMP!

Harry reeled, his vision began to blur despite his glasses, and he suddenly felt the urge to sit down.

Now.

Thunk!

'Hello ground, we meet again.' Harry thought dumbly as he stared at the slightly blurry figure of Snape get up quickly from where he laid on the ground. He saw the red gloves come off the cotton-sleeved arms as the man marched over to where he sat. Even with his vision out of whack, Harry could see the deep scowl on the older man's face.

"How did you do that? Tell me!"

Harry looked up at the looming man and tried to focus his eyes.

"Did what?"

Snape snorted. "Idiot," he muttered, but Harry realized in the back of his fuzzy brain that the insult didn't carry as much heat as it usually did. "How did you do wandless magic?"

'So that's what that was.'

"I dunno."

"Oh, for the love of—what were you thinking about right before it happened. Anything?" Snape asked in exasperation.

Harry had to think back. "Uh…I was thinking about failing. About letting everyone down. About not wanting to be weak."

Harry didn't think he should be this open with Snape. The man had a knack of taking such personal things and using them in his taunts; however, he was still somewhat out of it, and it seemed to be his natural response to just answer the man standing over him.

"That is what finally accomplished it?"

Severus could not believe this. Here he had taunted and prodded Potter for months, and all it took to get the boy to perform wandless magic was for him to wish to not be weak? He refused to believe that was all there was. He began pacing near the seated teen, trying to figure out what the actual cause of the sudden achievement of wandless magic.

"Impossible. Tell me what else!"

Harry's eyes followed Snape as he paced back and forth. That lasted for only about two minutes before the movement made Harry dizzy so he stopped.

"That was it. We were fighting and that's what I was thinking."

Then a moment of clarity dawned in Harry's mind.

"Finally?"

Snape stopped his pacing. "Excuse me?"

"You said, 'finally accomplished it,' a minute ago. What did you mean by that?"

"That is—"

"Please? I think I have the right to know."

Did he just say please to Snape?

The wandless magic must have affected him more than he thought.

"You are injured," Snape said as he walked over and began to cast the necessary charms to heal Harry's wounds.

Harry simply nodded and allowed the man to heal him. He wasn't going to get his answer.

When the last of his injuries from the boxing match were healed, Snape stood up and began to cast the charms on himself. Silence ensued.

"I was trying to get you angry."

"Huh?"

Harry's vision was still on the hazy side, so he missed Snape rolling his eyes. "I said, Potter, that I was trying to get you angry."

"Oh. You know you don't really have to try at that, don't you?"

He heard a snort above him that could have almost passed as a chuckle.

Almost.

Not quite.

"I am aware of that; however, this was for the purpose of getting you to such an emotional state that you would transcend from your comfortable power level and exert a more forceful magical presence."

Oh, well when you put it that way…

"Say what now?"

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Difficult brat. I sometimes think you have no vocabulary at all. I have been trying to get you angry so that you will perform wandless magic. That had been one of the main goals for these little training sessions."

"Oh…. Wait, hang on," Harry said as he made to stand up. "Are you telling me that this whole time that you have been taunting me and throwing out all the verbal abuse, it was because you were trying to get me to—"

Harry had finally managed to stand when black spots began to form in front of his eyes. Perhaps standing was not the best course of action. The ground was nice. The ground was Harry's friend.

"I need to sit back down."

Harry quickly fell back to the ground before he passed out. Knowing Snape, the man may just as well leave him in the field again.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Harry looked up to see Snape standing right over him again.

"You like to loom, don't you?"

"I will take that to mean that it has been a while."

Harry watched as Snape walked over to his robes a few paces away and retrieved something out of his pockets. He came back over and uncorked a small vial, handing it to the sitting, green-eyed teen.

"Drink."

"What is it?"

"Poison."

"Oh." Harry took it back in one gulp.

Replenishment Potion.

Harry felt his vision solidify and the wooziness he had been feeling dissipate some.

"Reckless, moronic child. What if that had been poison?"

Harry's only reply was a shrug as he handed the vial back to Snape who quickly banished the small, glass tube.

"So you've been taunting me to get me angry for months so that I would do wandless magic?" Harry tried again as he stood. He was relieved when his vision stayed intact and his legs did not give out from under him. He looked up into dark eyes.

"That is correct, Potter. Voldemort is planning on being more involved in Death Eater goings-on. He will be expecting you to make an appearance, as you usually do, and you have to be able to have some sort of an advantage when you face him. However, I have reached the conclusion that my manner of motivation is possibly not as beneficial to the goal as I would have wished it to be."

Harry snorted. "Yea, no shit!"

Nice.

Severus's eyebrows rose so high that Harry thought they would pop right off his head.

"Uh, no shit…sir?"

Real nice.

Harry thought though, that he had seen the edges of Snape's mouth twitched ever-so-slightly upwards for a split second after he had said that.

But, just as quickly, it was gone and Harry was left to wonder if seeing Snape almost…smile…had been a figment of his imagination.

"Well then, Mr. Potter, since you appear to be so enthusiastic about this, what do you suggest the new plan of action to be?"

"You're asking me?"

"I am certainly not asking the tree."

Harry stood there and tried to think about how to go about this. He had no idea about how to go about learning wandless magic. He wracked his brain as Snape walked over and redressed in his long, black robes. He had time to fasten all of the tiny buttons, adjust his cuffs and walk back over to where the teen stood without receiving his answer.

"Have you strained something in your attempt at cogitation, Potter?"

Harry shook himself out of his ponderings. He glowered at Snape, "No. And I think I may have thought of something."

"Be still, my heart."

The teen's bright green eyes rolled behind his glasses. "What about meditation?"

"Perfect, Professor Trelawney, you have struck gold," Snape said as he crossed his arms.

"It's not anything like that. I read in a book—and yes, I can read, thank you very much—where there is a type of meditation that can allow a witch or wizard to better access their magic."

"That sounds completely farfetched."

Harry shrugged and ran his hand through his hair. "You liked my last idea," he said as he waved towards the red gloves lying on the ground.

The Potions professor looked down at the gloves and seemed to be doing a bit of thinking of his own.

"You are not under any delusions that if—and that is a very big if, mind you—we undertake your hair brained idea that I will begin to sing your praises? You are still quite brainless and hopeless in several aspects of life."

"I think I would be scared if you started singing my praises," Harry said as he checked to make sure his wand was still in its holder. He walked over through the crunching leaves and began picking up the gloves and putting them back in the bag.

'It's getting really cold. I wonder when it is going to start to snow.'

He shrank the bag and returned it to his pocket. He took a few more steps after that before his vision began to go downhill again.

He swayed.

'The black spots are back. Hi, black spots.'

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter," Snape growled as he came up and grabbed Harry by the arm and began to half drag – half assist the teen to the apparition spot. "The Replenishment Potion is not a fix-all. I would think you would dedicate at least a few brain cells to remembering to eat."

Harry allowed the man to keep hold of his arm. He really didn't need to fall down again. "Wasn't it you who said before that I didn't have a brain?"

"Hmm. Indeed."

The two walked to the apparation spot and returned to Grimmauld Place in silence. Well, it was silent until they made it to the foyer. Much to Harry's dismay, Mrs. Weasley had stopped by with lunch. Snape merely pushed Harry towards the motherly woman and announced Harry's lack of meals and his current state as a result. Harry glared back at the man as Mrs. Weasley all but dragged him by his ear to the kitchen, her normal rant playing in fast speed.

'Giant, potion peddling tattle-tale!'

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Thank you for reading Chapter 3!

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