Author's Note: I don't write about Snape very often but, for a change of pace, I decided to write a chapter with him (Isn't he just sweet . . . kind of?)

Happy 20th Chapter!

Chapter Twenty -- Potions Class

Harry sat in Potions class, aimlessly twirling his quill in between his fingers. It was his first day back to classes, officially away from the infirmary and the watchful eye of Tom Riddle. He smiled at the thought of Tom, sitting next to his bed, saying things like "Harry, eat your soup" or "Harry, you can't play Quidditch today." Tom had tried to sound authoritative with his commands. Instead, he just ended up sounding like the disgruntled parent.

"And may I ask, Mister Potter, what is so amusing that you happen to be drifting from my class?" Harry heard the question but it sounded so distant . . . Maybe it was a dream. In that case, there was no harm in answering.

"Tom," Harry said in his hazy trance. Maybe it was a dream . . . But then he heard the almost ear-shattering laughter which quickly made him realize that it was very much reality. Harry blushed a deep shade of red and everyone around him gasped and wheezed with laughter. The most shocking thing was that Professor Snape even managed a smile at his young student. After a few moments though, he quickly fell back into his role as the strict, scowling Potions master.

"Mister Potter, I would like to speak to you after class. Now back to the Wit-Sharpening Potion . . ."

Harry felt like sinking into his seat and disappearing . . . Ron quickly flicked a note his way. Harry picked up the stray piece of parchment.

"Harry's got a boyfriend!" it read. The was so juvenile and immature -- Just something Ron would do . . . A wide grin spread across Harry's face. Only Ron could so successfully make Harry feel better in the grips of despair.

"The end of class always comes to soon," Harry thought, slumping his head onto the desk. His first day back from illness and he was already in trouble. Ron gave him a pat on the shoulder as he walked out the door and Hermione gave him her most sympathetic glance. Professor Snape sat at his desk, correcting the last test and smiling as he wrote "Failed" on it in harsh red ink.

Harry cleared his throat and Snape looked up from his work.

"Oh, yes," he muttered. "Potter. I would like to speak to you in my chambers. Follow me."

Harry gulped. His chambers? Harry must have really underestimated the seriousness of the situation. He had thought the daydreaming was a mild offence, punishable by detention of deducting some points. Definitely not a trip to Snape's chambers!

Harry walked into the small, compact room -- All done up in black and green. "Tom would like this room," Harry smiled to himself, remembering Tom's infatuation with Slytherin colors.

Snape signaled for Harry to have a seat and Harry found a place on one of the cluttered chairs scattered about the room. He squirmed uncomfortably as the hardwood edges bit into the backs of his legs. "How can Snape use this type of furniture?" he wondered briefly. But the Potions master didn't show the least bit of discomfort as he sat down in the chair opposite Harry.

"You are not in trouble with me," Snape said, although you couldn't prove that statement by his harsh tone of voice. "Although you should learn to pay attention in my class. Next time I find you daydreaming, I will deduct points from Gryffindor."

"Of course, sir."

"I simply called you in here to ask how things were going with Tom Riddle."

Harry stared at the Professor with wide green eyes.

"You were . . . concerned, Professor?"

The disbelief in Harry's voice was almost humorous to Professor Snape. "Yes, Mister Potter," he thought to himself. "Believe it or not, I can feel concern for a boy thrown into the clutches of one so evil . . . and at such an early age." Snape found himself marveling at the boy's youth. He had never looked upon the child with anything other than blind hatred. Now, when he looked at the young Potter sitting before him in the light of pity and concern, he was somewhat moved. "Such a young thing . . . Barely over sixteen," Snape thought. You can still see the traces of adolescence."

Snape cleared his throat. "Yes Mister Potter," he responded, sharply. "I was concerned for your well-being. Are the two of you fairing well?"

"Yes Professor," Harry replied hesitantly. "We're doing very well actually."

"And does Tom treat you with the due amount of respect and reverence?"

Harry gaped at this comment. Then he almost felt like bursting into peals of laughter. "Professor Snape! You think about 'the due amount of respect and reverence?' What old-fashioned ideals!" Harry thought. Snape scowled as he watched the smile sneak up onto his pupil's lips.

"Yes, Professor," Harry finally responded smugly. "Tom definitely treats me with the due amount of respect and reverence."

"And he hasn't tried to . . ." If Snape had been the type to blush, he would have at that moment. "He hasn't tried to accost you in any impure way? He hasn't tried to . . . deflower you has he?"

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed hysterically. Just the picture of Snape sitting there, worrying about Harry's virginity at the hands of Tom Riddle . . . And then putting it all so eloquently, trying to detach himself some the matter as much as possible!

"You must understand Harry," Snape said bitterly, trying to regain his authority. "I only worry that Tom Riddle is in some way trying to take advantage of you. I know Lord Voldemort and he likes to feed off of the feelings of the weak. I just want to make sure that something like that does not happen to you."

Harry had stopped laughing now and was just letting out muffled giggles occasionally.

"Well, you can be assured that Tom has not tried to 'deflower' me against my will yet."

Snape looked somewhat relieved. He had feared the worst for the boy. There was no telling what would happen to a young innocent in the hands of Lord Voldemort.

"I just want you to know," he said, placing one of his hands over Harry's. "That if anything happens, you can always come and speak to me about it."

Harry was a bit taken aback. One, by the kind words that were being emitted from the most hateful teacher in the entire school. Two, by the cold hand that was suddenly on his own. Three, by the mere prospect of being invited to come and talk to Professor Snape of all people in times of trouble.

"Sir," Harry asked, uncomfortably, "Why are you suddenly being so kind to me?"

Snape sighed, lifting his hand and placing it back in his lap.

"I know what it is like to be at the mercy of someone who is cruel. I know what it is like to be in an abusive relationship with another. I know how degrading it can be and how it can eat away at your confidence and your opinion of yourself. I know how you come out of it feeling beaten and battered and scarred. If this ever, ever happens to you, I want you to know that you can come and speak with me about it. I will understand and . . ." Snape faded off for a moment, suddenly worn out by the sentiment of opening himself up to a student. "We can go about setting everything right."

"You really are an exceptional teacher in some ways, Professor," Harry smiled.

"Only in these circumstances," Snape said harshly, not wanting to lose his long-kept, heartless persona. "Only because he's Tom Riddle and . . ." Snape sighed. "Only because you're Harry Potter."

Snape got up from the chair and stood -- Looming over Harry, trying to look as intimidating as ever.

"Now report to herbology immediately and tell Professor Sprout that I kept you late."

Harry was about to walk out of the room when something stopped him. He ran back to Professor Snape and quickly threw his arms around him. The extremely surprised Professor stumbled backwards but managed to remain standing upright. Harry finally let go and with a quick but sincere "Thanks Professor!" he left Snape alone, and puzzled, in his chambers.