"Please."

"No."

"I'm fine! I can go back to Gryffindor tower. I don't want my friends getting back and wondering where I am." The brat complained as he lay curled up under the quilt. Snape rolled his eyes, rubbing his forehead to soothe his frazzled nerves. The boy only just became coherent that morning after a long day with a fluctuating fever and incoherent mumbling and now he wanted to get to the tower. "Plea-"

"Have you never been sick or something? You only just got better. Stay in bed and try to rest so that I can have a rest from your incessant whining." He said and grabbed the fever reducer, throwing it his way. The boy skilfully, with a seeker's reflexes, caught the potion without thinking about it and sat up slightly.

"I do not whine." He mumbled and drank the entire thing.

"You should be in the hospital wing, however… an emergency in St. Mungus meant that madam Pomfrey had to stay there for a while." He would not tell the boy that there was a death eater attack. Knowing him he'd start blaming himself. His insufferable friends would tell him soon enough when they return. "Need I remind you-?"

"Yes! Yes! Merlin I know! No one must know. You know, there are a lot of things people must not know about you. Don't you get edgy, having this person you don't trust keeping your secrets?" The brat smartly replied. Severus just glared at the boy, a quirk of the lips indicating just how smug the brat was with his interruption. He would wipe that smug look right away.

"As you are so desperate for something to do, here." Snape grabbed a tome from the little bookshelves in the corner and let it drop on the boy's lap who groaned and then looked alarmed up at him and back at the book.

"Potions for the Slow of Mind… Really? How do these things even get published? Why? Why do you have this?" Potter asked.

"You have all day to try and learn something Mister Potter. Now, I will be in my study. Call me if there is an emergency, and by that I mean, if someone is mortally injured. Otherwise do not disturb me." With that he could now be the one to feel smug as he saw the teenager's frustrated glare at the potion's book.

oOoOoOo oOoOoOo oOoOoOo

Harry grumbled as he watched Snape disappear down the corridor and looked at the book. "Probably wrote it yourself." He mumbled and opened it. There, where the author's name should be, the name 'Severus Snape' was written with pretty calligraphy.

Harry couldn't help it. He felt the laughter bubble from the pit of his stomach and he laughed hard enough to make his stomach cramp. Snape did not come to demand his silence but remembering that he was working on something made Harry turn his face into the pillow, trying to muffle the giggles that would not stop.

Only when he managed to calm down did he pick up the book again, passing the first page. It was when he realised that it did not have the mechanical sort of letters his school books had, this one looked hand written and by a very feminine hand. He pressed his lips together to contain any further giggles that could surface when faced with a vivid image of Snape practicing cursive calligraphy as a hobby. He'd seen the rapidly written notes (or insults) that Snape would leave on his essays when grading them. It seemed inconceivable that the same man could have written this book.

Still as he read it, it sounded more and more like Snape was reading it out loud. It was a step by step educational book, with warnings on what would happen if you put this or that in, or if you stirred clockwise when it says otherwise. Most warnings were followed by harsh examples of past students and what happened to them and how long it took for them to recover after a potion went wrong.

Harry dared to say it. "I'm still sick." There was no way he would find a potion's book interesting unless his fever had spiked again. It was interesting to learn why things shouldn't be done differently as opposed to getting a sneer and a dismissal from class. Snape also went on to insult the standard books that they used in the school. As Harry followed the reference he found an entire set of chapters dedicated to some of the major errors those potions masters had written down as fact. "Snape has a lot to complain about…" He mumbled.

"That is not true, I complain exactly the right amount." Snape said and Harry looked up to see the potions master opening a locked cabinet in the corner of the room, with fancy potion ingredients.

"Did you really publish this?" Harry asked.

"Well I did try, however the governors decided that it was simply too insulting to students and world renown potion masters." Ah, sarcasm.

"So this is the only copy? All this calligraphy must have taken you ages." Harry looked back at the book and flipped the pages.

"I can see why anything more than your pathetic scratchings could prove a challenge for someone like you Potter, however, that book is a gift from the headmaster. After he borrowed some of my notes and mixed them with the complaints I sent to him about student mishaps." Harry did not find it hard to imagine Dumbledore doing that and sat up looking at Snape's retreating back.

"It's interesting." He called softly, his voice catching, suddenly too shy to say it. But Snape heard and turned around, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Is your fever going up again?"

"I thought the exact same thing." Harry wasn't sure if he saw the other smirk, since the potions master was slightly shadowed. He said nothing though and turned once more to retreat into his study. Harry was pretty bored so he kept reading the mishaps. He happened to find none about him, yet Snape had included plenty of examples from Neville, Dean and Ron. The names were changed but Harry remembered those events.

The twisting of his stomach didn't allow him to think too much into it. Should he interrupt Snape? He thought about calling for Dobby but what if the man got angry because he ate in his front room? Should he wait for the man to come out again? But it could be hours... He decided to risk it. He got out of bed and walked toward the door of the other's study. He knocked.

"Sn-Professor Snape?"

"What Potter?" Came the dull uninterested reply.

"I'm hungry." There was no response. Harry strained to listen, maybe he was speaking softer. But no. "Professor?"

"Call a blasted house elf Potter! I will not dignify every stupid question with a response! I am not your servant!" Harry stepped back from the closed door.

"You don't have to yell at me! I was just making sure it was fine with you! I'm just being polite this is your house after all!" Harry snapped back.

"I have no time for you right now Potter! Go call on a house-elf and leave your incessant hormonal bickering for another time!"

Harry clenched his jaw, anger rising. "I wasn't bickering! You're just like everyone else! Everything is always my fault but you were the one that started with the yelling!" Harry yelled and kicked the door hard. He stormed, or rather limped, back to his chair and instantly regretted the argument as he heard the sound of a potion blowing up. He sat very still, eyes focused on the floor. His stomach now twisted with nerves as the door opened slowly. The approaching steps were slow and all Harry could think about was the past two days and the way the other had taken care of him. He knew the other had to… but Snape was different. Pomfrey treated him with cold, clinical neutrality… with Snape... it was different.

He turned quickly, feeling his racing heart forming a knot at the back of his neck. "I'm sorry… I…" Snape had a cold, neutral expression. No rage, no hate, nothing. Absolutely nothing. The way Harry saw him when in dreams he looked through another's eyes. "Stop it! Don't look at me the way you look at Voldemort!" Harry said. He was surprised to see Snape respond to that with widening eyes and broken eye contact. Harry looked back down again.

"You have apologised. I too should do the same… though I feel I owe you no apology. After all, if someone says they need to focus on their work it could be for many things Potter. They shouldn't have to explain why." And now his voice filled with condescending kindness, the way Umbridge talked down to everyone when explaining something, except that Snape's voice was laced with anger. "Perhaps any tiny error could destroy all prior effort employed into it. Perhaps it needs a series of quick ingredients to be put in, in five second intervals. Perhaps, the ingredients are very expensive. Perhaps all of the above, Potter!"

Harry flinched. "I'm sorry… I just…"

"Perhaps you should learn to control your temper. That is twice I have seen you take your anger out on a door. Is that the kind of adult you want to become? The kind that starts hitting things when they get angry? Or people?" Harry looked up shocked.

"I wouldn't! I…" Snape suddenly swept across the room. Harry inadvertedly flinched but the potions master simply sat in front of him, leaning forward on the chair.

"Listen very carefully. You are no longer a little child Potter. Although you've not had the opportunity to have tantrums as a child, it does not mean you get to have them now."

Harry looked away from him. The other just kept talking to him as if he were a child though.

"You need to control your anger. This is the time when you get to decide what kind of adult you wish to be." He knew he did. "I think you are well enough to return to the tower tonight." The feeling of getting kicked out was a harsh one. No matter who it came from. But it obviously had to happen.

"I am sorry professor… I can pay for the ingredients if you wish…" He said gently. Snape simply stood once more and patted the smoke from his sleeves.

"You should be made to pay. But I will not ask for payment. Despite everything, I did respond inadequately to your question." Snape said and Harry looked up. "So I am sorry."

"…It's ok…" He mumbled looking down. He heard Snape stand to leave. "…Not many adults ever apologise to me." He heard Snape pause in his exit.

"Yes, well, perhaps there are more adults owing you apologies than vice versa." There was an exasperated sort of sigh. "Come on, let us get a house-elf to bring us some dinner." Snape sounded tired and Harry did not want to cause him even more trouble. He couldn't wait for classes to start again. That way things would soon return to normal and he could pretend that the last two days never happened. Still he would at least find a way to return the wasted ingredients to the professor.