A/N: I apologize for the wait after last chapter's cliffie. The general consensus in your reviews seemed to be that it was a pretty evil thing to do :) I hope you can all forgive me now. Enjoy Chapter 10!

Harry was frozen in place as the silence dragged on and on in the dungeon classroom. He didn't look at Snape. He couldn't. He was too afraid of what he would see in the man's face if he did.

And then he saw the dark sweeping robes move past him out of the corner of his eye, and a second later, the classroom door, which Snape had only just thrown open at the conclusion of Harry's detention, slammed shut again, causing Harry to wince.

It was another several long seconds then before the potions master finally spoke.

"Sit. Down."

The tone of his voice was indiscernible, but Harry didn't dare disobey. He dropped down onto the nearest stool, and gripped the edge of the table in front of him as tightly as he could, since he no longer had his picture to hold onto. He kept his eyes cast firmly downwards then, even as he could see Snape moving about in his peripheral vision.

More seconds ticked away.

And still, Snape didn't speak. It was not like the man at all, Harry couldn't help but think. The professor was never lost for words.

But at long last, the potions master came to stand directly in front of his least favorite student, the table that Harry was still clinging to the only thing separating them.

"Where did you get this?" the man finally asked, holding the picture out towards Harry.

Snape's voice sounded odd. It was not soft and silky like it normally was. It was a strange tone that Harry had never heard from the professor before. All he knew for sure was that his professor was demanding an answer from him, and Snape was not known for being patient with his students.

"Fro-from my aunt and uncle's house, sir," Harry said, swallowing hard as he continued to look down at the table. "I found it there. This summer."

"You will learn to look at me when I am speaking to you, Mr. Potter," Snape growled, slamming a hand down on the table's surface.

Harry flinched and looked up, his own eyes filled with fear as he met those of the professor's.

Snape straightened then, removing his hand from the table, and gave Harry one of his most fearsome glares. "How many people have you shown this to?" he waved the picture for emphasis.

Harry just shook his head, feeling sick.

"Answer me, Potter!"

"No one, sir," Harry's answer was nearly inaudible.

"No one? No one? Then why are you carrying it around with you?"

It was getting harder for Harry to talk around the lump forming in his throat. "I-I, it's my mother, sir."

Snape just stared at Harry, something strange and unfamiliar flashing across his dark eyes for just a moment, hardly enough time for Harry to attempt to figure out what it was.

"You knew her," Harry suddenly blurted out then, before he even knew what he was saying.

Snape was silent for a few more seconds as he glanced down at the picture in his hand. Then, he turned his gaze back on the young boy before him.

"You will not speak of this to anyone, Potter. Do you understand? Not a single soul."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, and that feeling of disappointment began to course through him once more. Why was Snape so worried about someone else finding out? Was he embarrassed by his mother? Did he wish now that they had never been friends?

"Do. You. Understand?" Snape gritted out.

Harry just nodded mutely, blinking back the tears in his eyes that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

"Then go," Snape said, nodding towards the door.

Harry stood up, his entire body feeling numb, and bent to pick up his school bag. But rather than turn away then, Harry stood rooted to the spot, staring at Snape.

"I believe I just dismissed you, Mr. Potter," the man snarled. "Professor McGonagall will be expecting you."

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times before he was finally able to speak.

"But, sir. My picture—"

"Will no doubt end up being passed around the entire school if left in your possession."

"You can't just take it," Harry said, shaking his head.

"I believe I just have," Snape replied dismissively, taking the opportunity to shove the photograph into a pocket of his own robes.

The tears were getting harder to hold back, and Harry had to look away from the potion master's stone cold expression.

"But it's all I have left of her," he nearly whispered.

Amazingly then, Snape's next words, though far from sympathetic, seemed to be spoken with a bit of hesitancy.

"I do not have time to argue with you, Mr. Potter. You are already late for your next detention. I suggest that you go. Now."

That last word was said with such an air of finality that Harry didn't dare linger any longer. He turned away from Snape and walked towards the exit.

When he was gone, Snape let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan, as he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

The boy knew. He knew. He was never supposed to find out.

Snape stared at the stool where Potter had been sitting only a minute before.

And all he could think was that this was one of those rare moments in his life when he had no idea what to do.

Harry wasn't quite sure how he managed to find his way to Professor McGonagall's office. His body felt completely numb, and his vision was blurred by tears as he made his way up through the castle and somehow managed to turn down the right hallway.

And within minutes of leaving the potions classroom, he was standing directly outside the office door of his head of house.

He took a moment to compose himself then, taking a deep breath and wiping at the tears in his eyes. He knew he couldn't take too long though. He was already late.

Finally deciding that he just needed to get this over with, Harry rapped his knuckles against the wood of the door and waited for a response.

"The door is open," McGonagall's stern voice came from within, and Harry quickly turned the knob and slipped inside.

McGonagall was sitting at her desk, quill in hand, and seemed to be concentrating on reading a piece of parchment set before her.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Harry said in a rush, before his professor could start reprimanding him.

McGonagall abandoned the parchment at the strange tone in Harry's voice, and looked up, immediately noting the redness in the young boy's eyes and the wetness on his cheeks.

"Mr. Potter, what is wrong?" the woman asked, her voice filled with concern.

Harry ducked his head to hide his face from view. "Nothing, ma'am. I'm here for my detention."

Silence followed Harry's words for the next few moments as his head of house took in his appearance. But at long last, she spoke again.

"Come sit down, Harry."

Harry raised his eyes just enough to see that his teacher was motioning to a comfy-looking armchair in front of her desk. Dragging his feet a bit then, he slowly made his way over and perched himself on the very edge of the seat.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "It would seem that you have had a very eventful start of term, Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger informed me just a short time ago that you were serving a detention with Professor Snape today, as well?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry answered, choosing to stare at his teacher's desk rather than Professor McGonagall herself.

"For not having the textbook?"

Harry frowned and looked down at his hands. His friends really needed to learn to mind their own business.

"Yes, ma'am," he said again.

"Would you mind telling me why you didn't have your book with you? I noticed that you were sharing a textbook with Miss Granger in my own class, as well."

Harry shrugged, still not looking up. "I just wasn't able to get them this summer. I did order them, though! They'll be here, soon."

It was McGonagall's turn to frown. "Did you not inform your relatives that you needed to go purchase school supplies?"

Harry did his best not to squirm uncomfortably in his chair. "They were just really busy this summer."

McGonagall's frown deepened before she asked her next question. "What happened in detention, Harry?"

"Nothing."

"You are visibly upset, Mr. Potter."

Harry still refused to talk, and so the professor soon spoke again.

"Alright, then. Why don't we discuss the reason for this detention? Why did you get into a fight with Mr. Malfoy on the train?"

Harry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he felt a headache coming on.

"Harry?" McGonagall prompted.

Harry sighed and gave his answer in a mumble. "He just...said some stuff. I lost my temper."

"I see. Well, I must say that I am surprised at you, Harry. I expect better from my lions, and this behavior just isn't like you."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Harry whispered.

And his voice sounded so lost and forlorn in that moment, that Minerva McGonagall decided right then that she was done scolding the boy over this incident. Something must have happened down in the dungeons to upset the child so.

"Millie," the professor suddenly called out.

A moment later, Harry nearly jumped a foot in the air when a loud popping sound filled the room.

Looking up, Harry was horrified to see a house elf standing next to Professor McGonagall's chair. The only other house elf he had ever met had gotten him into a world of trouble with his uncle, and so he shrank back into his chair as McGonagall whispered some quick instructions to the elf, the memories of this summer flooding back to him all at once.

A moment later, Millie the house elf was once again gone with another loud pop, only to return in mere seconds with a tea tray and what appeared to be a plate of biscuits.

Professor McGonagall saw the fear in Harry's eyes, and was suddenly even more concerned than she had been just a few moments ago. She had never seen Harry act like this before. She immediately pushed the biscuits towards the young boy then, as she began making plans in her head.

"Help yourself, Harry," she said kindly. "Would you like some tea, as well?"

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He was fairly certain that he was supposed to be serving a detention right now. And Professor McGonagall was one of the strictest teachers at Hogwarts.

So why would she be serving him tea and biscuits? He was clearly missing something.

McGonagall continued to eye him with that strange look in her eyes for the next several seconds, and so Harry finally leaned forward to select a biscuit off the plate.

"Now, as soon as we are done here, I want you to go straight off to bed," McGonagall said sternly, as she poured out two cups of tea. "It'll be an early night for you, Mr. Potter, and hopefully you will wake up fully refreshed tomorrow."

Harry was almost positive that the confusion must be showing on his face. What was going on?

But rather than question his head of house, he simply muttered a quick "Yes, ma'am", as he accepted his cup of tea.

"Severus Snape!" McGonagall thundered as she burst into the man's office later that night.

Snape looked up from his desk, where he had been glaring at some paperwork and a stack of fifth year summer homework assignments. He hadn't been able to get anything done since the Gryffindor Golden Boy's detention, and he had been about to turn in for the night.

"Good evening, Minerva," Snape replied tiredly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"What did you do to him, Severus?" McGonagall demanded as she stalked over to the man's desk. "What did you do?"

"To whom are you referring?" Snape asked with a frown.

"Well, Harry, of course! Do you have any idea the state he was in when he arrived at my office a while ago?"

Snape sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I can hardly be held responsible if the little brat gets upset over having to wash a few cauldrons, Minerva. He's probably never had to work a day in his life and—"

"That is not like Harry, and you know it, Severus. I'm worried about him."

"Then keep an eye on him, if you must. I am sure whatever it is that is bothering him will blow over soon enough."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "If you said anything—"

"Like what?"

"Like insulting his father in front of him. Like ridiculing him mercilessly for his shortcomings. I mean it, Severus. If you did anything to that boy to make him this upset, then I expect you to make it right."

The "or else" was left hanging in the air, but there was no doubt that it was there.

Snape's lips curled into an unpleasant snarl. "Of course, Minerva," he replied tightly. "Although I assure you that whatever is upsetting the child is none of my doing."

"I hope not," McGonagall replied severely. There was a short pause then, before she spoke again.

"And for future reference, Severus, I would appreciate it if you would inform me ahead of time when my students are assigned a detention."

"Of course, Minerva," Snape replied, as McGonagall turned and headed for the exit.

She stopped at the door, however, and turned back.

"He really is like Lily, Severus," her voice was instantly quiet. "I just wish you would allow yourself to see it."

Snape had no time to be surprised at the woman's words before she was gone. And in the next second, he was alone once more.

He sat there in the silence of the dungeons then, once again running through the events of the day in his head.

And all the while, he couldn't help but to feel the heavy weight in the pocket of his robes.

A weight that was nothing more than an old photograph that had been taken a lifetime ago.

A/N: I promise that Snape's behavior will be improving very soon. It's just that with a man like Severus, these things tend to take some time :)

Thanks for reading!

-Ailee17