A/N

Tyleet27: ya, you again! Trust me, I'm planning on following your advice, but if I happen to screw up, be sure to let me know. lol Yes, I know Harry's being unfair to Dean...people keep telling me that. But it's happening for two reasons. Firstly, Harry is not perfect. He screws up sometimes, and right now is one of those times. Secondly, Harry's confused. Poor boy. Dean really likes him, and for a while, before he started falling for Sev, he really liked Dean too. So he's all messed up inside, and can't figure out what to do. This is probably going to end up being a pretty long fic, so be ready to stomach a bit more of Dean before our main characters finally come to their senses... Sev's reaction in a nutshell; he gets drunk.

AislinnNicole1: Well of course YOU knew he was in love! From an outsider (like Dean and you) it's pretty damned obvious. But I think Harry's a bit thick headed. Maybe I should give him some hints... this chapter is Sev's point of view. I'd kinda written it before I read your review, but you can pretend it's for you, if you like! lol. And ya, I've had LOTS of mornings like that. Poor Harry. Poor Dean. Poor Sev. I'm so mean to all of them! Aren't you glad you're not a character in something I'm writing?

Enemywithin7: Thanks! glad you like...keep reading, and, more importantly, keep reviewing!

Raphael Argai Thanatos: Oooh. thanks! Now I feel all warm and mushy inside! lol

snapehermionelover: I liked the ending too. I was proud of myself. Be patient with Harry and Dean...things might get worse before they get better.Hi. Thanks so much everyone for reviewing. This chapter is for all the people who like this story enough to have it on their favorite's list, but not enough to review it.

...

Severus had a headache. That he knew for sure. What he wasn't certain of was the cause.

Possibly it was due to having stayed up all night, unable to get a certain black haired boy from his past to GET OUT OF HIS BLOODY MIND and STAY in the past.

Or perhaps it had been the parcel he'd received anonymously, which had promptly exploded on his desk, burning an entire pile of first-year tests before he managed to extinguish it.

Or it could even have been the chat he'd had with Albus, seemingly never-ending, while they discussed how he could best convince the Dark Lord of his loyalties. Albus, for all that Severus owed him everything, did not seem to notice how horribly tired his spy was. How he wanted nothing but sleep, no matter how little, and damn the consequences.

Or it could have been the Firewhiskey.

Yes, Severus thought wryly, glancing at the near-empty bottle on his charred desk, definitely the Firewhiskey.

And the bottle was still not empty…

With a wrench, he pulled himself from temptation and vanished the bottle (and it's remaining alcohol) with an exhausted wave of his wand. A waste, but he couldn't show up to teach a potions class with alcohol in his system. Firewhiskey, even in moderation, tended to…loosen him up, and since his reputation was the only thing he was currently capable of upholding, he wasn't keen on destroying it.

Despite this excellent logic, Severus wanted nothing more than to get good and truly drunk, and pass out on his couch. Baring that, he wanted to numb his mind so he didn't have to, couldn't, think today.

Seventh-year potions first thing, a nasty voice whispered in his head. You'll be seeing him soon…

Mentally snarling at himself to shut up (he was certainly not at his intellectual peak this morning) Severus stormed over to the cupboard and pulled out the basin he was rapidly becoming addicted to; Albus's pensive. He had a good few hours before he had to teach the Potter boy. He needed to get his thoughts collected. Get his head around what he'd seen.

A picture of another bottle of Firewhiskey bloomed invitingly in his head, but he squelched it. He needed to get his thoughts collected without alcohol. Damn the boy, he thought savagely. Why did Potter have to look so much like his father? Why? There were so many painful memories connected with that face that Severus pick one to start with.

The first one, the one that had started all the misery that was his school life, was already there. Severus, wanting to smash something, held his wand to his temple and pulled out the next memory that was to do with James.

The entrance hall is crowded. A fourteen year old Severus sits at the table for breakfast, resolutely not looking at the Gryffindor table. He remembers last night all to clearly, indeed, cannot get the conversation with James out of his head. "…you're disgusting…

And, he thinks miserably, he is disgusting. He'd really thought that James might be interested. Delusional.

He is concentrating so hard on not looking at anyone that he doesn't notice when most of them have left. He only looks up when he hears a noise behind him, someone clearing their throat. He turns.

James and two boys Severus doesn't recognize are there, looking at Severus as if he's some horrible stain they'd like to wipe out. He knows, immediately, that James is not coming to apologize for his words the night before.

He stands up, feeling that he'd be happier facing the three of them on his feet, and the taller, scruffier one pushes him hard against the table again. The other boy, a pale, sickly looking teen, looks around nervously. "Are you sure…"

"I'm sure" the scruffy one growls out. "None of the teachers are around. Besides, don't worry…I'm not going to hurt him. I wouldn't sully my hands. I'm just warning him." Here he turns to Severus again. "Listen, you freak."

Freak is worse than disgusting. Severus looks at James, automatically, wanting him to stop the other boy, but immediately wishes he hadn't. James is sneering at him.

"You're not to come near us, you hear?"

Severus gulps, his attention forcibly taken back to the scruffy one.

"You're a pathetic little wanker, and if you take a step near any of us, we'll beat you bloody. Got that?"

"I…"

"Shut up. You make us sick, right Remus?" The pale boy nods, distracted.

"Look, Sirius, there's a bloody teacher coming. Let's go, all right?"

And the scruffy one turns away from Severus, muttering "Bloody queer bastard" under his breath as he does.

They walk away, leaving Severus nearly in tears, not understanding how it could have gone so wrong.

And not knowing that it is going to get much, much worse.

Severus added the memory strand to the silvery liquid, the fury gone out of him. I'd forgotten. The memory had been there, of course, so he hadn't really forgotten, but the pensive made him realize exactly how bad the encounter had been. His sexual preferences had been all around the school in a matter of hours, after that breakfast, and he'd not had a moment's peace for weeks. After that, most of the students seemed to get sick of tormenting him, and left him largely alone. Except Potter, Lupin and Black. And that pathetic toady Pettigrew. They'd nursed a hatred of him that had lasted until graduation.

He'd just avoided them at first, but as things got worse, his own hatred of them had grown until he would have cheerfully murdered any of them.

Freak.

Even after these years, the insults still stung. They still felt true.

And Harry, with that damned face, did more to bring back those insults than anything else. Severus sighed, sinking into an armchair. The young man was probably still asleep, perfectly happy, perfectly peaceful. The boy had probably slept soundly and dreamlessly all night.

James. Just like his father, the boy was damned attractive.

And unlike his father, Harry was gay.

And Severus's student.

With a groan, Severus put his head in his hands. All these years he'd hated Harry for being James' son, for being a sneering, arrogant brat. Was it possible he'd been seeing James when he looked at the boy?

Damn.

It was going to be a long day.

H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/S/H/

Harry flung himself into his seat, not looking at Snape at the front of the room. He would not look at his teacher. He would not see those images again. No.

Despite his resolutions, five minutes of class had not passed before his eyes, drawn almost magnetically, rose to meet Snape's. Instantly he was back in his dream.

Do you want me to touch you, Harry…?

He shivered, those dark eyes locked on his, and shifted in his seat. Snape looked tired. Not just tired from not sleeping for a night; Snape looked as if all his reserves had been used up.

The man was a teacher…how hard could he be working, Harry wondered. Unless Snape had been up all night thinking about him, which he sincerely doubted. Besides, it was a deeper sort of tiredness than you'd get from missing sleep for one night. Snape looked as if he'd not slept well in months, and had no hope of doing so in the near future. The teen suppressed the urge to figure out who it was who was overworking Snape and strangle them. It wasn't his business.

The man's eyes remained focused on Harry's own, and Harry found himself ignoring the lesson to concentrate on the sound of Snape's voice.

Snape's voice saying his name.

With a jolt, Harry pulled himself to the present.

"Mr. Potter, ten points from Gryffindor. Pay attention in class, if you please."

"Sorry, Sir."

The class drifted apart, everyone to their cauldrons, and Harry flipped frantically through his text, trying to figure out what they were supposed to be making. Dean appeared beside him.

"Lost, are we?"

Harry looked up, startled at his voice, and grinned as Dean winked. "Um. A bit. Maybe. What are we supposed to be making?"

Dean took the text from him and flipped to the right page, grinning flirtatiously at him. "Distracted, were you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Thanks for the hand."

They went to their separate cauldrons, both lost in thought, and Harry began chopping ingredients. The potion was complicated; he had to pay attention.

Of course, being in the same room as Snape, paying attention to something as boring as a potion was not an option.

Before the end of class, Harry found himself frantically extinguishing the burning mass in his cauldron, fanning the thick blue smoke away from his face.

"Potter." He braced himself. "That was pathetic, even for you. Twenty points from Gryffindor, and detention tonight. You will learn how to properly make this potion, no matter if I have to go over every step with you."

Yes, having Snape hovering over him was really going to help him concentrate. Miserably, Harry nodded.

"Yes, Sir."

It was going to be a long day.