Author's note: I'm trying to turn this out as fast as possible, but my internet blew out for two weeks and another major setback was that I have done a very stupid thing by not making even an outline. If you guys have any suggestions on where this should go, please review me or e-mail me because it's the job of the writer to make the reading experience enjoyable. =).

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The morning came quicker than Harry had anticipated and he was completely dreading his Occlumency lessons with Snape. From the time he woke up, he knew that nothing he did today would have anything to do with propriety. He had the greatest urge to just eat the entire bag of puking pastilles and spending his day sick in the care of Madam Pompey.

That idea quickly fleeted. Something about vomiting uncontrollably for the entire day seemed unappealing to Harry, but what made double potions and "remedial potions" more intriguing, he never really did know.

He slowly drew up his sheets, followed closely by the red quilt. In a quick glance, he made sure that it was all evenly spread and retreated to the front of his trunk.

He was up considerably earlier than all of his roommates, so he decided that a warm shower would be a soothing way to start the day and would take some of the chill from the crisp morning. Gathering up all he needed, he made way for the showers, glancing at Ron as he passed the bed.

He let the warm water run down his back, before sinking his head below the jet. His hands wandered his body without the soap first, then he made the addition, and lather bubbled up all over the tan flesh of his midsection. He titillated himself, as the scent of the soapy foam enthralled him. To Harry, the water was an incredibly sensual thing, and a view of Ron came into his head.

Harry shivered involuntarily when he saw a vision of his best friend standing nude before him. A glorious nudity, that he envisioned to be so beautiful, that it glowed with light. Harry could barely help touching himself. He ran his full-fisted hand up and down, slower at first and then faster and faster.

He could feel the muscles in his abdomen tensing, and his legs were becoming weaker beneath him. Flush riveted through his entire body, making the skin run hot and prickle. He was very soon to reach ecstasy.

This wasn't the first time he had done this to the thought of his friends beautiful nude form. He had always been alone while he was doing it though, always by himself. He wished for just once that the object of his almost insatiable desire would join him.

He was almost at the apex of his pleasure when another sight came into his head, and it was the memory that he had seen at lessons the night before. Snape's hunched body, below a jet of water, one hand working furiously while the other propped him to the wall.

A flare of excitement rushed through Harry's body, and he let out a little gasp as he came. His face contorted to an open mouthed, but silent moan. Then he hunched to the wall, and closed his eyes and panted. How incredible it felt to be pushed over the edge, with the image of someone you hate.

In transfiguration Harry had decided that that was one of the better orgasms he had at his own hands. He wondered if it was because it was Snape, but eventually came to the conclusion that the possibility of that was quite slim. After all, he did hate Snape, right?

"Mr. Potter! Are you paying attention?" Mcgonagall roared at Harry. He looked up and saw her face contorted with irritability. He glanced sideways and saw Hermione giving him a puzzled expression. "Mrs. Granger isn't going to answer for you."

"Sorry." Harry didn't feel like having a row at that moment. He was preoccupied with his own troubles.

"Five points from Gryffindor. Maybe next time you'll pay more attention, or else it will be a detention for you Mr. Potter." Harry sank into his seat and tried his hardest to look as if he was hanging on Mcgonagall's every word, but couldn't help but to drift off again.

"And so, if you are successful in the transformation of your….." Harry couldn't seem to understand why turning a rat into a place setting was going to help him. He looked over again and saw that Hermione was fascinated and sitting on the edge of her seat, while Ron was as slunk as he was. Mcgonagall demonstrated several times that period, but the lesson was just as completely uninteresting as his history of magic class.

Lunch came quickly, but not to a relief. Hermione and Ron had had an argument and were not speaking to one another. Harry was afraid to speak to either of them, because they might accuse him of taking sides. Lavender and Parvati would giggle occasionally, while Dean and Seamus were enthralled in their copy of The Daily Prophet. Overall the great hall was rather quiet, save for the Slytherin table where Draco had decided to tell jokes. Every so often the table would break out it fits of laughter, while Pansy hung all over Malfoy. It was a gut wrenching sight.

After lunch was Potions. Harry was rather happy about the fact that Snape had ignored his existence. He kept catching himself staring at Snape's greasy hair and wondered if he had washed it in his entire lifetime. Then he came to contemplate that memory where Snape was approaching his father under that tree. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was an important moment in the relationship between his father and the greasy git standing at the blackboard.

He wanted to know what happened terribly, but doubted he would ever get the chance.

"Neville, ten points! Your clumsiness is going to fail you out of my class this year!" Snape pointed his wand at the mess of ingredients on the floor, muttered and it was gone. Neville was turning red with embarrassment and you could hear Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy chattering and chortling in intervals.

Why did Snape have to be a complete, for lack of a better word, asshole? Harry hated the way he acted like his ass end had a horrible encounter with a broomstick. He was always so completely uptight and everyone around him had to pay for. No wonder why no one liked him enough to be around him, what a burden.

Instead of leaving after lessons, Harry just stayed in the classroom. After several minutes of silence and a few curious scowls from his professor, he pulled out a copy of Defensive Spells for Dummies and began to read it like he was interested. Hermione had given it to him for his birthday, but he didn't know what to do with it other than look at the pictures. It was written in a very boring style, and it made Harry tired ever time he tried to read it.

"Why are you dawdling in my classroom, Mr. Potter?" Snape said nastily, his pallid face glowing with the light from the window. It must have been some kind of moon-sun complex because the light hit his face and he just reflected it back in a strange silvery way.

"I just thought that I'd wait until Occlumency." Harry saw a glint in Snape's eye. It was just a flash of something, but Harry was sure that it was that of a opportunistic Snape ready to pounce on the idea of torturing Harry.

Spending the dwindling half an hour with Snape was the last thing Harry wanted to do, but he just had so little energy that it didn't make much of a difference. Snape fell silent. Harry did as well, but there was a tension building in the room. It was becoming an uncomfortable silence, which didn't come as a surprise to Harry, but he couldn't help but wonder if speech between them would be any better. So, he didn't talk.

"Shall we begin?" Snape's cold eyes looked upon him and he shuttered. "Is something wrong or repulsive?" Snape's words were cold and aggravated, hinting at an insulted demeanor.

"Nothing, is wrong." Harry said nastily, feeling quite guilty afterward. Why was he so nasty anyway? Well, there was perfect justification for that. After all, Snape was completely nasty to him. So, why couldn't he be such back? He had no reason to feel guilty about being snappish.

"I'll ask only once more, Mr. Potter, Are we ready to begin?" Something seemed strained in Snape's voice. Harry paid no notice.

"Yes, (you nasty git), we are entirely ready." Harry's sarcasm would definitely be the reason for the downfall in their teacher student relationship. His defiance was almost forced through him because ever so suddenly he felt lazy to being rotten toward Snape. It just lost its appeal.

"One…Two…. Three" Harry's mind flooded with images of water running across his burning erection. A memory from his morning shower! He had to fight it back…. Snape had already seen enough to make Harry uncomfortable, next would be enough to destroy him. Suddenly, a glowing angel came into sight of Harry and his stomach muscles clenched in shame and embarrassment.

Ron's nude form stood before Harry, in all its glowing glory. The worst part was that Snape was seeing it, and all of it was gone.

Harry found himself on the cold stone floor of Snape's office, looking up at his laughing professor. This was the first time he had seen his teacher even smile, and now he was laughing down at Harry with a growing superiority.

"I'm glad you find this humorous." Harry's green eyes flamed defiantly as he rose.

"Oh the great Potter is not so immortal after all." Snape's laughing had stopped and the candlelight was flickering from the glowing candelabra rested upon the floor cupboard. As the only light in the room, it helped to let Harry mask his blushing face in the shadows.

"We all have desires, Snape!" Harry's patience was drawing very thin and his humiliation was melting into a blind rage. How dare he laugh at him? "And how dare you laugh at me?"

"Treat me with the respect I deserve Mr. Potter, I am your professor." Snape's cold eyes landed on him as if seeing through his façade down to the vulnerability beneath.

"You don't deserve respect, you git!" Harry was livid to the point of boiling blood. How dare he act so condescending?

"Embarrassed are we Mr. Potter?" Snape smirked with dignity. Harry couldn't believe he was still standing there.

Harry didn't answer. He wouldn't give Snape the satisfaction. By now his teeth were clenched so tightly that his jaw muscle was beginning to cramp. He turned to leave with his posture as rigid as he could muster.

"Potter!" He turned in acknowledgement. "Its people like you who make people like me feel normal."

"Its gits like you who make people like me feel better about themselves." Harry responded nastily.

As he walked down the hall, something dawned on him. How could people like Harry make people like Snape feel normal? Unless….

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Whaddya guys think?

Sorry it took so long, my internet zonked out! Boy was I mad. Well please R&R! thanks for the other reviews guys! I love you all so much breaks down in happy tears! Next one coming soon!