Thank you so much to all my wonderful readers and reviewers! Your support is truly the lifeblood of this story (much like the potions that poor Severus had to take in Chapters 3 and 4)

Now, onto Chapter 4!

The potion fizzed gently as it absorbed Snape's memories. The greasy-haired boy could not hold back tears of bitterness that poured down his sallow cheeks, as he was forced to relive torturous moments that he so desperately wanted to forget. But it had to be done. In order for these memories to never torment his soul or publicly betray his emotions again, he must privately endure them one last time.

Besides, there were more memories to be withdrawn. So Snape raised his wand to his oily forehead and continued.

** Fourth Year **

James whispered furtively behind Professor Sprout's back, during some down time in their afternoon Herbology class. "Hey Padfoot, I dare you." James pretended to flick some bubotuber pus in Snape's direction. With his head bent low and tendrils of greasy hair shrouding both sides of his face, Snape was so absorbed in his work he hardly noticed a thing.

"What difference does it make? It's not like his hair can get any more disgusting," Sirius whispered back. The two bullies broke into a silent fit of giggles.

"Shut up!" Lily hissed indignantly. James blew a kiss in her direction, and glanced in Professor Sprout's direction from the corner of his eye. Her head and shoulders were buried in a cupboard as she searched for extra fertilizer. It was now or never.

"Now!" James declared. In an instant, he and Sirius sent two flagons full of bubotuber pus flying in Snape's direction, soaking his hair.

"OUCH!" Snape furiously rubbed at the boils that were erupting over his scalp. He whipped out his wand. "Aguamenti!" A jet of water washed over him, but the thick green pus remained firmly saturated. It was no use. Within a matter of seconds, boils had appeared on every inch of skin covering his scalp and the back of his neck.

"Oh no!" Professor Sprout raced to his side. "Severus, quick! We need to cut your hair!"

"No! Professor, it's okay! See?" Snape sent another stream of water over himself. The water provided minimal alleviation, but Snape had to keep up the act. He would rather die than be humiliated.

"Severus, now!" It was no use. The boils were growing larger and more painful with every passing moment. He had no choice. Snape hung his head and acquiesced silently, as Professor Sprout whipped out her wand and began to haphazardly remove large chunks of his hair. "Diffindo! Relashio! Evanesco!" Within a matter of seconds, Severus was as bald as a hardboiled egg.

Like a prisoner or slave or military conscript, a shaved head was the emblem of a man who had been stripped of his liberties. Tears of shame burned Snape's eyes, as his emasculation was displayed for all to see. Students trembled with silent laughter as they giggled, whispered, and pointed at Snape's naked scalp.

Professor Sprout led Snape behind a curtain and began applying a soothing cream to his wounded skin. The boils instantly receded until not a trace remained. But the real pain was in his mind. Severus clenched his fists, shaking all over, as he cried tears of unfathomable grief and humiliation.


Back to the present…

Snape leaned over the cauldron and let a steady stream of silver pour into the swirling potion. How he longed to be rid of these wretched memories! No, Snape quickly reminded himself. Only a coward tries to hide.

Finally, the Occlumens Potion was finished. Snape silently congratulated himself on a job well done. Already he could feel peace and serenity coursing through his veins.

Years of abuse and humiliation had hardened Severus Snape, but he was not beyond the capacity to feel. However, just one swig of his self-made Occlumens Potion would make him impenetrable to anyone who had no business knowing his thoughts or perceiving his emotions—whether that assailant was a Gryffindor looking to demean him for an easy laugh, or a Slytherin who was cross-examining him for any sign of disloyalty towards their most venerable Dark Lord.

Only fools were candid about their vulnerabilities. Only idiots allowed their hearts to be an open book. Not even a wizard as powerful as Dumbledore could chisel through the barriers erected to shield Snape's innermost being from nosy eyes and unwelcome inquisitors.

Severus conjured up a tiny silver goblet and prepared to take a drink. But before the cup even touched his lips, he was interrupted by the sound of a door being violently kicked open. Startled, he dropped the goblet, causing potion to spill onto the floor.

There, framed in the doorway of the bathroom, with their wands drawn and pointed at him, stood James Potter and Sirius Black.

Black's face was contorted with rage. "Two hundred and twenty to eighty. Hufflepuff won. You cost us the Quidditch Cup."

Potter's features twisted into a malicious grin. "Payback, Snivelly."


Snape plunged a hand into his robes at lightning speed, groping for his wand with bony fingers and unkempt nails. But a loud cry of "Expelliarmus!" from James sent his wand flying across the bathroom. From an adjacent stall, Moaning Myrtle emitted a slow, doleful wail.

"What do you want?" Snape growled as viciously as he could.

"Your head on a platter, Snivelly," Sirius scoffed.

"Hufflepuff was our easiest opponent in years, but because of you ratting us out, we lost the Cup." James cracked his knuckles. "If you think we're not gonna get you back, you must be as stupid—and as greasy—as you look."

"How is it my fault that you couldn't catch the stupid Snitch? Weren't you just saying that you could've done it in five minutes?" Snape demanded. "What's the matter, can't back up your own talk?"

Somewhere in a distant corridor, several floors below their feet, the sound of revelry and merrymaking could faintly be heard. For the first time in a century, Hufflepuff was celebrating a Quidditch Cup. Their long-awaited victory had come at the expense of a star-studded Gryffindor Team, and this was unacceptable to James Potter.

James laughed as arrogantly and flippantly as he could, and tousled his hair. "Don't worry, Snivelly. By the end of the day, everyone will've forgotten all about Quidditch. Nobody will give a damn about the match anymore, once they see what we've got lined up."

"You're bluffing," Snape retorted harshly, though he didn't feel as confident as he sounded. Somehow, the so-called Marauders always managed to get the upper hand against him. "You've got nothing."

"Let's just say it'll be a tough act to follow," Sirius taunted. The door slammed as the two Gryffindors exited the bathroom and left Severus alone with his potions and his thoughts.

"They're bluffing," he repeated to himself.


Later that evening, Severus sat hunched over his favorite table in the library, massaging his aching and ink-stained fingers. Only five more OWLS to go, he counted silently. The studious Slytherin had high expectations of himself, and would settle for nothing less than scores of Outstanding on all eleven of his exams.

The clock chimed. Congratulating himself for completing yet another grueling study session, Snape slung his bag over one shoulder and set off for dinner. Lily will kill me if I skip any more meals in order to study. The greasy-haired Slytherin smiled fondly and felt his stomach flutter. It was such a warm (yet unfamiliar) feeling to have someone care about him—especially someone as wonderful as Lily Evans.

The Great Hall was filled with blithe conversations and chatter. The morose Slytherin gave an exasperated huff. How could anyone not take themselves seriously in times like these? Only two types of students could be so carefree and nonchalant during final exams. The first were genuine idiots with no sense of ambition, foresight, and urgency. They would one day find themselves hopelessly lost and disenfranchised, when adulthood forced them out of the protective bubble of school and into the vicissitudes of the real world. The second group was even more contemptible. They comprised of children born into nobility, which described most of his fellow Slytherins. To them, everything was given and nothing was earned. They sat haughtily upon mountains of Gringotts gold accumulated from generations past, and never expected (or needed) to do an honest day of work in their lives.

Lost in his own thoughts, away from the crowds, away from the antics of his stupid schoolmates, was where Severus felt most in his element. Only in the tranquility of solitude could he disappear into the recesses of his mind. He wanted nothing to do with the giggling, gossiping idiots who congested the corridors on a daily basis.

But Severus' annoyance would slowly devolve into confusion, and then into horror, as he entered the Great Hall. Students were continuing to chatter and giggle—but they were laughing at him!

"What?" Severus demanded. His obsidian eyes quickly scanned the perimeter of the Great Hall. "Why are you all laughing at me?"

And then he saw it. Hanging from the rafters high above the House tables, were some new adornments. The Gryffindor Lion, the Hufflepuff Badger, the Ravenclaw Eagle, and the Slytherin Serpent were nowhere to be seen. The banners signifying the four Houses had been replaced by some decorations far less aesthetic, yet far more amusing.

Severus fixed his gaze towards the new banners hanging from the ceiling. Emblazoned across the fabric was a skinny human figure in a black robe, suspended upside-down in the air. The figure was naked from the waist down and clearly in distress, writhing in pain from the many bruises and welts that marred its naked backside.

As his mind slowly registered the images that assaulted his vision, Snape let out a horrifying scream of despair. The bloodcurdling shriek tore through his throat for at least fifteen full seconds, before Severus covered his face and collapsed to the floor.

"NO! THIS CAN'T BE!"

Hanging from the rafters, on display for the world to see and jeer at, was a series of wall-sized banners featuring the cruelest and most humiliating day of his life.

Who wants to see James take off Snivelly's pants? Apparently, everyone.