A/N: Hello again! I know it has been far too long! In fact, I think I still owe everyone a Merry Christmas, a Happy New Year, and possibly something else that I can't seem to recall at the moment. My deepest, sincerest apologies.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Harry smiled as he finished writing out his last sentence with a flourish. He was done. He was almost positive that it was perfect. It just had to be good enough this time.

Jumping to his feet, Harry barely suppressed the urge to wave his parchment triumphantly in the air before he began to shove all of his belongings back into his bag.

On the other side of the table in the library, Hermione paused in her own writing and raised her eyebrows as she watched her friend attempt to cram his potions textbook in alongside his other books.

"We don't have potions today," Ron suddenly broke the silence, looking up from his copy of Voyages with Vampires. "Why were you working on your potions homework, Harry?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she turned to look at Ron. "You know, some people like to get their homework done before the day that it's due, Ronald."

"It's not homework," Harry answered, still smiling. "It's an essay I've been working on for detention. Snape keeps making me rewrite it."

"Greasy git," Ron said automatically.

"Yeah," Harry answered absently, as he lifted his heavy bag up to his shoulder, unable to keep the anticipation and excitement off his face.

"Is everything alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned. "You're not feeling sick again, are you?"

Harry just shook his head. He had told his friends that the reason Snape had had to escort him to the hospital wing the other night was that he had gotten sick during detention.

He felt slightly guilty for not saying anything about the voice, of course. But he was still feeling rather reluctant about revealing that piece of information to anyone. He was still worried that people might think he was going crazy.

"I feel fine, Hermione," Harry said with a grin. "I have a good feeling about this one. Snape can't possibly find anything wrong with this draft."

"Geez, how many times did he make you write that thing?" Ron asked, eyes wide.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno… a few. Why?"

"Because I've never seen you this happy before over finishing an assignment."

Harry let out a laugh as he pushed his chair in and began walking away. "Yeah, I think I'm going to go hand it in, now."

"What? You're gonna have to see the great bat for detention tonight, anyway. Why not just wait until then?" Ron asked, incredulous.

"I just want it to be over with, I guess," Harry called over his shoulder, earning a reproachful glare from Madam Pince as she rounded the corner of the nearest bookshelf.

"Sorry, ma'am," Harry said hurriedly, as he ducked around her and headed for the library exit.

Both Ron and Hermione watched him go, finally exchanging bewildered looks when their friend was out of view.

"What's gotten into him?" Ron asked.

Hermione frowned, thinking. "I have no idea."

Harry checked his watch as he descended down into the dungeons. He had just over fifteen minutes before afternoon classes started. He would have to make this quick.

Assuming that Snape would likely be spending the morning break in his office, Harry headed straight there, and didn't even hesitate to knock firmly against the door.

"Enter," a voice drawled from within the dungeon office. And so Harry pushed against the wood, and stepped inside.

Snape's eyes met his almost immediately from across the room, and Harry had to do his best to maintain eye contact. Just like the man was always telling him.

"My, my, is it detention time, already?" Snape said sarcastically, eyebrows raised. "I must have lost track of the time."

Harry's face turned red, and he couldn't help but to look away, then, the nerves finally catching up to him.

"No, sir," he answered quietly. "It's just…well, I finished my essay." He moved forward, clutching his parchment tightly in both hands.

"And this couldn't have waited until this evening, Mr. Potter?" Snape inquired, annoyed.

"Well, uh…I just wanted to give it to you now."

Snape's eyes looked over the boy, scrutinizing him for several long moments before he finally held out his hand.

"Then give it to me and be on your way."

Harry frowned as he held out the essay. "I thought that you could look at it now, sir," he said bravely.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Did you, now?" he replied with a sneer. "And do you imagine that I have no other work to do today, Potter?"

"No, sir," Harry answered quickly. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to irritate or anger the professor. "It's just…well, I mean…I think it's really done this time," the boy stumbled over his words as he finally handed the essay over.

Snape didn't immediately offer a response. He regarded the boy carefully for another few seconds, fixing the child with a bone-chilling glare as he took possession of the parchment.

Harry shifted uncomfortably where he stood, but forced himself to hold the man's gaze as he waited.

"I will read your essay later today, Mr. Potter," Snape finally drawled. "You will receive my feedback tonight in detention."

Harry tried his best to hide his disappointment. "Yes, sir," he eventually replied, before turning towards the exit.

Snape simply watched the boy leave then, without saying another word.

Harry let out a sigh as he climbed the grand staircase and headed off in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom. Now that Snape had his essay, he was feeling far less certain about his finished product. Maybe he should have waited until tonight to hand it in. At least then he would have a little more time to check it over.

"Potter!" a voice suddenly called out behind him, bringing Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry let out another sigh as he turned around. "What do you want, Malfoy?" he asked, irritated.

For once, the blond boy was alone. Neither Crabbe nor Goyle, nor any of the other second year Slytherins were in the corridor with him.

It was just the two of them.

Malfoy smirked and crossed his arms. "You know, I've been thinking, Potter. You may be right."

"About what, exactly?" Harry demanded. "That you poisoned my owl for your stupid revenge?"

Draco scoffed. "You really are an imbecile, Potter. I already told you I didn't do it. I couldn't care less about your stupid, bloody owl."

"Then what are you rambling on about?" Harry responded, also crossing his arms and mimicking Malfoy's stance.

"I think we should settle this with our wands."

"Settle what, exactly?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"Your lie got me in trouble with Snape—"

"I don't have time for this," Harry interrupted, starting to turn away.

"So you're not going to duel me, then?" Malfoy taunted. "What, are you scared?"

Harry whirled around. "I seem to recall that last year when you said you wanted to duel, you were really just looking for a way to get me caught out after curfew. No, thanks."

"Oh, it'll be a real duel this time. Just you and me," Draco replied, smirking. "Come on, Potter. What do you say?"

"I think I'll pass," Harry answered almost immediately. Snape would probably kill him if he dared to do anything so stupid.

But almost as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Harry felt a little confused. Why did he care so much what Snape thought? He would likely be in just as much trouble with McGonagall or even Dumbledore if he agreed to Malfoy's plan.

"I always knew you were an idiot, Potter. But I must admit, I didn't take you for a coward."

Harry's hand twitched. He wanted nothing more than to reach for his wand right then and there. But he resisted.

Barely.

And then something small was slinking out of the shadows of an alcove and approaching the two boys in the corridor.

Malfoy's eyes immediately widened at the sight of Mrs. Norris, no doubt worried that Filch wouldn't be far behind.

"Let me know what you decide, Potter," Malfoy finally spoke up, pushing past Harry and heading down the hall.

As soon as the Slytherin rounded the corner, then, Harry smiled down at Mrs. Norris, who immediately began rubbing up against his leg.

"It's good to see you, too," Harry said happily, crouching down to scratch behind the feline's ears. "You really saved me just now."

The cat purred, and continued to rub up against the young Gryffindor as Harry spoke softly to her for the next minute or so.

"I'm sorry I can't stay much longer," Harry eventually said. "I have Transfiguration in a couple minutes, and McGonagall won't be very pleased if I'm late."

Mrs. Norris seemed to accept this explanation, for she gave one last nudge at Harry's hand, before stretching her legs and then slinking away. Within seconds, she was gone.

And Harry headed in the direction of Professor McGonagall's classroom.

The day passed by far too slowly for Harry's taste. He couldn't help but to stare continually at his watch throughout all of his classes, his concentration and focus nearly non-existent.

Malfoy kept glancing over at him from time to time, a questioning look in his eyes to accompany the near-constant smirk on his face. And Harry had to wonder what the Slytherin boy was really planning.

Because there was no way that this duel would be as simple as Malfoy had suggested. He definitely had something else up his sleeve, and Harry knew he'd do well to simply steer clear of the situation altogether.

Assuming that was even possible. Because somehow, Harry couldn't help but to think as he sat drumming his fingers impatiently against his desk in the last class of the day, he always seemed to get dragged into situations that he would much rather just avoid.

Harry arrived for detention that evening a full ten minutes early. He had attempted to distract himself with homework for a little while, but he had made very little progress, and had given up after only about a half-hour or so of trying. He just couldn't wait any longer. He needed to know.

Snape scowled at him when he entered the potions classroom, immediately closing the book he had been reading, and setting it off to the side.

"You are early, Mr. Potter," Snape drawled, not sounding the least bit impressed.

"I know, sir," Harry answered, walking further into the room, a determined look on his face.

It was quiet for several seconds before the potions master finally responded.

"I imagine that you are eager to learn the results of your latest attempt?" the man asked, then, his tone almost bored as he held up a piece of parchment for Harry to see. His essay.

"Yes, sir," Harry nodded, hurrying over towards the man's desk as Snape held the essay out.

Harry was almost too afraid to look. But then the parchment was in his hands, and his eyes were searching the page.

There seemed to be just one comment written on the entire parchment, in red ink, at the very bottom.

You have now proven, Mr. Potter, that you are more than capable of composing a highly organized, well-thought out, and well-reasoned essay. I expect ALL of your work to reflect these capabilities in the future. I will refuse to accept anything less.

Harry just stared at the bottom of the parchment for what must have been a full minute, or perhaps longer. He didn't know what to think. He couldn't help but to feel a huge amount of pride at his accomplishment, though the prospect of now being held to a much higher standard did worry him a little.

"Thank you, sir," Harry finally managed to say, looking up at his professor with a small smile.

"You did the work, Mr. Potter," Snape said dismissively. "I simply offered my analysis."

Harry's smile grew wider as he once again looked down at the parchment.

"Now," Snape said at last. "I believe it is time for me to uphold my end of the bargain. And we will finally be able to put this conversation to rest."

Harry looked up eagerly and moved around to the side of the man's desk.

"You're going to tell me what "A Thousand Words" means?" the young boy questioned.

Snape didn't immediately respond, but pulled open a drawer in his desk and took out a large, white envelope.

Harry watched as the potions master placed the envelope on the surface in front of him, and closed the drawer again.

"I take it you have heard the phrase 'A picture is worth a thousand words', Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir. I have."

Snape gave his own nod before slowly running a finger back and forth across the envelope as he continued to speak.

"Well, your mother was quite fond of the saying," he said. And Harry noted that his professor's voice had suddenly taken on a strange, unidentifiable, quality. He had never heard the man speak like this before. It was like he was lost in a memory.

"When we were children," Snape continued, now attempting to keep his voice brusque and business-like, "we were, as you now know, very good friends, your mother and I. We lived in the same neighborhood. We communicated constantly. We saw each other nearly every day, and we would even send letters to each other. We made a contest out of it, in fact."

"A contest?" Harry asked, intrigued, his eyes wide as he held onto every word.

Snape watched the eagerness and light in Harry's eyes, in Lily's eyes, for a moment, before answering.

"Yes, we competed to see who could send the longest letters. We would exchange a couple and then count up the words."

"What did you write to each other about?" Harry interjected, leaning forward now against the desk, growing more and more excited by the second.

Snape's gaze moved back to the envelope, and his voice softened again. "Anything and everything we could think of. Mostly about how our days were going. She also liked to write about her family. After a while, though, it became increasingly difficult to come up with new things to write about. We both already knew nearly everything there was to know about the other."

Harry suddenly felt a sharp pang of longing. He knew hardly anything about either one of his parents. It just wasn't fair.

"Is that what's in the envelope, sir?" Harry finally asked. "Letters from my mother?"

"Only a few of them. A few I thought you might like to see."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. He never imagined that Snape would be willing to show him so much. He leaned even further forward, and could hardly believe it when Snape finally picked up the envelope and offered it to him.

Harry took the envelope in his hands, embarrassed to note that his fingers were trembling slightly, and flipped open the unsealed flap.

He had expected to see paper. Actual letters. But he was surprised.

"Pictures?" he asked softly, pulling out a couple. And there was his mother, once again smiling up at him in two new photographs.

Almost on instinct, Harry flipped each of the pictures over, and saw the same three words written on both of their backs.

A Thousand Words.

Harry looked up at Snape, who seemed to be watching him carefully.

"Your mother finally found a way to always beat me in the contest," the man explained quietly. He sighed then, before continuing.

"She would just send a few of those along. And the words would always add up to more than I could ever write."

A/N: Thanks for reading! And remember you can always check my profile page for updates regarding upcoming chapters. I won't lie. I'm going to be really busy in the coming weeks. But, I'll try to keep you posted as much as I can on where I'm at with a chapter.

Thanks again :)

-Ailee17