Harry winced as he felt the classroom quickly empty, wishing for once that time would slow right down to halt.

He didn't want to face this moment, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

He dreaded to think what Snape would say to him.

Why did it have to be him that noticed it? Why couldn't it be Professor McGonagall? Or Professor Sprout?

Then again Snape always did have a that keen and penetrating eye that he was so infamous for.

The chatters and giggling of students faded until all that remained was silence.

With a wave of Snape's wand the door to the dark classroom clicked shut, the deadbolt slamming across, condemning Harry to this dreaded fate.

"Mr Potter." Snape stated in an attempt to summon Harry's attention. The young wizard wanted nothing more than to dart his eyes anywhere around the room, anywhere except at the man before him.

He didn't want to witness the smug look in Snape's eyes, he didn't want to have every aspect of his life subjected to Snape's critical opinions.

Of all the people.

Harry drew a large amount of air into his lungs before forcing it out.

It was time.

His gaze traced Snape's lean form until it finally reached its destination.

He bit down, expecting to find the expression that he had so been dreading but instead, his gaze was met with one of puzzled intrigue.

"What is this Mr Potter?" Snape raised an elegant eyebrow as he grasped the younger wizard's left wrist in one foul swoop. His hands had moved with the speed of lightening, something that had most certainly taken Harry by surprise.

"My wrist." Harry mumbled, he thought it was obvious enough so why should he have to satisfy the professor with this pointless game of twenty-one questions?

"I can see that Potter." Snape spat, impatience growing in his voice as he drove his thumb into the scar tissue. Harry flinched as a tingling, stinging sensation radiated from his wrist.

The younger wizard didn't know what to say as he sunk his teeth into his lower lip. His eyes darted to Snape's fingers as they held his wrist captive.

Silence filled the empty classroom as Snape inched closer to the boy. The deep scent of musk and old spice filled Harry's nostrils, yet he was surprised to realise that he didn't find the smell unpleasant. The professor didn't cease his movements until his lips were mere inches from the boy's ear.

"What is the matter?" Snape's silky voice slid into Harry's ear, as though obeying the command of its master without hesitance.

Harry opened his lips to speak, yet he remained unsure of what to say.

Was Snape being nice to him?

Surely not. This had to be another one of Snape's ploys.

Was he trying to trick him?

Harry gazed up at the man before him, not bothering to mask the confusion in his eyes. The professor was standing close to him, too close to him. The distance was inappropriate, yet Harry found himself unable to move.

Had Snape put a spell on him? Or was it simply that his mind wasn't giving his body any commands?

"You can tell me." Snape continued, his drawl adopting a softer tone, one which had caught Harry off guard.

Harry opened his lips once more, only this time they seemed to have a mind of their own.

"Everything." Harry uttered, as though secretly hoping Snape hadn't heard him, yet he felt he owed the man some kind of answer.

"Oh?" The professor raised an eyebrow, prompting the boy to clarify what was meant by 'everything'.

"Its something I do every summer." Harry began, wondering why his lips appeared to be betraying him to the one man he hated more than any other at Hogwarts.

"Unhappy home life?" Snape pried as he released the younger wizard's wrist from his grasp. He began to take small steps around the boy, as though he were an animal circling it's prey.

"Unhappy life." Harry corrected as he felt the man move around him. He froze, suddenly feeling the man stall behind him. The professor reached for Harry's wrist once more before sinking his nails into the scar tissue.

Harry gasped as he lost control over his lips. The sensation should have been painful, a burning sensation should have been shooting up his arm, yet what he felt was entirely different.

"What's wrong Potter?" Snape sneered, the edge in his voice had returned as he eyed the boy carefully, as though trying to decide what to do with him.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Harry's eyes widened though the reason shocked him more than Snape's words because for a fleeting moment he recognised them as true.

What was wrong with him?

When had be become like this?

When had he become such a masochist?

When had he started equating pain with pleasure?

Or was it that the pain distracted him from his guilt at being the chosen one? Someone more deserving should hold the title, he had done nothing to deserve the fame he had inherited from that one fateful night. The sacrifice of his parents.

Snape leaned forward, seemingly savouring the moment before pressing his lips to the base of Harry's neck.

The boy flinched, he had not expected this course of action from Snape, or from anyone for that matter. He soon felt a sharp pain drive into his neck. His body froze as he tried to figure out what had just happened.

Had Snape just bit him?

But why?

Perhaps he deserved it, just like how he deserved every other bad thing that happened in his life.

"You really have fallen Potter." Snape drawled as he stepped away from the boy, as though his presence suddenly repulsed him.

"What do you mean?" Harry seemed more confused now than ever as he struggled to understand what the man was saying.

"Where's your fighting spirit? Why did you just allow me to do that to you?"

Harry opened his lips but once again they held no answer for Snape.

"Is it perhaps because you enjoy punishment?" A smirk lined Snape's lips as though he had just struck gold. He knew he was right and Harry knew it also.

Punishment seemed the only way to expel the guilt that loitered far too frequently within his heart.