Author's Note: Angsty Harry this chapter. Some capslock at one part. XD Also, from the abuse Harry suffered at the Dursleys, the boy is a little bit more insecure than he is in the canon.

Chapter Five:

"Reconciled"

It was the big day.

Harry was beyond nervous; no, actually, he was absolutely terrified. He toyed with his breakfast, not feeling the least bit hungry. Even though Ron and Hermione (who had finally made up after the troll incident) encouraged him to eat, he just was not hungry, and he felt if he did eat, his stomach would just throw up all of the contents it was churning so badly. Just the smell of food alone made him want to vomit.

"I'm not hungry," He explained, setting down his silver ware. "I don't feel up to eating.."

Ron and Hermione looked ready to protest, when..

"Good luck today, Potter," Drawled a voice from behind him.

Stunned, Harry turned around to look at Snape, who was not looking at him not with the dislike Harry had come to know, but an expression that Harry couldn't quite decipher. He seemed almost... gentle. He smiled slightly as Harry stared at him. "Then again, now that you've proven yourself against a troll, a little game of Quidditch should be easy work for you."

Was that a compliment? Harry wondered, and he gave Snape a small, unsure smile in return.

"Even if it is against Slytherin." It seemed to Harry like Snape couldn't make up his mind; one minute he was complimenting Harry and wishing him luck and the next he was making Harry even more nervous by reminding him who he was up against. Snape seemed to not know what else to say, because he caught everyone's gaping mouths at the table, his eyes darting around wildly before he randomly swept away, and Harry watched his retreating back, and noticed that the man was limping.

"That explains the blood," He thought out loud.

Hermione turned to him, confused. "Blood?"

"Snape tried to get past that dog," Harry said determinedly. "He wants what ever that dog's guarding... he got himself bitten, Hermione. That's why he's limping."

"But why would anyone go near that dog?" She asked.

Harry bit his lip. "I think it's because the day I was at Gringott's, Hagrid took something out of one of the vaults, said it was Hogwarts business, very secret, and that he couldn't tell me about it. But what ever it is, Snape wants it."

Hermione looked shocked. "Harry, I know you and Snape have not seen eye to eye lately, but you can't just accuse him of doing something like – "

"He's up to something," Harry spat, as he continued to watch Snape, who was now outside the Great Hall, engaged in conversation with Dumbledore. "He's lying to Dumbledore, and he was probably trying to get to know me so he could betray me too..."

The girl sighed. "Honestly, Harry, I think you're letting your anger and hurt feelings cloud your judgement; Snape is unpleasant, but that doesn't mean he's got some secret ploy or that he's got it out for you."

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Ron shook his head, telling him silently to drop it. Closing his mouth, but not done with this topic by a long shot, they were distracted when a small, snowy owl zoomed into the hall, a long, slender package in it's mouth.

"Hedwig," Harry's eyes creased. His owl never came to give him mail, simply because he never got any. But here she was, flying towards him, and dropped the package directly into his arms. He looked at his friends. "I never get mail..."

"Oh, just open it," Ron prompted, and together, the trio undid the bindings, and pulled the wrappings away to see a shiny, brand new broomstick.

"It's a broomstick," Harry said breathlessly.

Ron gasped excitedly. "That's not just a broomstick, Harry, it's a Nimbus Two Thousand!"

Wood nearly fainted when he saw it. "The new model! The Slytherin's are playing with two models previous..."

Flabbergasted, Harry stroked his new broom. "But... who would buy this...? For me...?"

His fingers fumbled on something, something small and sharp. Pulling it out, Harry saw that it was a small card. All that was written on it was three words.

Do your best.

"Do your...?"

He trailed off as Snape turned, and he glanced up to catch the man's eye, who was now looking at him from the distance with an unreadable expression, although Harry understood the message behind those black eyes that told him what he wanted to know. Smiling brightly, Harry turned back to his friends, shaking his head. "I really don't get that guy."

Ron, who had followed where Harry had been looking, choked on his drink. "You mean...?" He looked from the broom, to where Snape stood, to Harry, to the broom, and to Snape again. "You mean... Snape? He did this...?"

Harry simply nodded, smiling.

Wood was speechless, looking as if he might collapse from the shock.

Hermione beamed. "Oh, isn't this wonderful, Harry? This must be his way of apologizing to you..."

Harry blinked. He hadn't thought of that. "Yeah... yeah, that must be it!" He grinned, wanting nothing more than to run up to Snape and thank him, but he was sure Snape would not approve of that sort of behavior. Plus, it would tarnish the man's reputation if anyone else knew that Snape, head of Slytherin with a known vendetta against the Gryffindors just bought Harry Potter, Snape's apparent most loathed student who just happened to be in said house, a broom stick that would surely aid him in today's match.

Deciding that he would talk to Snape afterwards, and feeling confident now that he would win, Harry wolfed down his breakfast, eager and considerably less nervous about the match. Had he been looking at Snape still, he might have seen the man smile ever so slightly at his reaction.

"That was unexpected, Severus. You actually bought the boy a broomstick."

Snape looked back at Albus and scowled. "I'm worried Quirrel might try something, and it would not bode well to have the boy on a broom stick that can possibly fall to pieces at any moment and create an opening for him to fall to his death. He needed a sturdy broom. You're the one who told me to protect the boy to the best of my abilities, Albus. For Lily."

Albus's blue eyes twinkled. "Indeed I did, my boy." He didn't sound as if he was convinced.

"It was for Lily!" Snape snapped, "Not because I want the brat to become even more like his damned father. I already told you, Albus, he is James Potter's son, and nothing, nothing, can change that! I will not forget – "

"No one ever expected you to," Said Albus gently. "But what you need to realize, Severus, is that just because the child shows an interest in the sport James Potter did, does not mean he's entirely like his father. We've discussed this. Harry is a mixture of both his parents, with Lily being the dominant side, but like you've said yourself, it would be ignorant of you to assume there's none of James in him. This is just one of things that Harry got from his father. Please try not to condemn the boy and hate him for such a simple matter as Quidditch."

When Snape said nothing, Dumbledore placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I know Harry is a source of unquestionable pain and torment for you, my boy, and I can not fathom the endless amount of constant conflict and suffering inside your heart every time you look at the boy, being reminded, every second of the day, of the torture James put you through, and the anguish of losing Lily. An old man like me can not possibly understand your amount of suffering. But I can empathize. I only ask of one thing, Severus, and that is that you try and see Harry for who he really is. He's not James, and he is not Lily. He's Harry. A little boy who is innocent in the rivalry you had with his father. He did not know his parents, had no time to be taught their traits and holds nothing of them except for the blood that runs through his veins."

Snape looked uncertain. Albus squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "Lily would not have wanted this for the two of you. She would want you to cherish and love that child just as she had done, the very reason she died. She loved her son more than anything, died knowing that he would be lost and scared in the world on his own. That child needs you, Severus." He let go of Snape's shoulder, who looked back up into the cerulean eyes with his filled with nothing but pain and tears.

"Lily would have wanted that."

Silence lingered between them for a moment, and without bothering to give a reply, Snape simply grunted and walked away, out into the Quidditch pitch. He needed some time to think.

The frosty air that meant winter was quickly approaching did not soothe him. Instead, it only made him even more angry. How the hell would Albus know what Lily would have wanted? She was dead. Dead because of that brat. If Potter hadn't been born, Lily would not have died. His eyes hardened. If only Lily had stepped aside, left the little brat to die, then she would...

He stopped this thinking, shaking his head. No, if there was one thing he knew about Lily Evans it was that she loved her child. She had died to save him, and she would not have liked to have known that Severus was having such terrible thoughts about her son. But he could not help it; he felt resentment and anger at her son, because he had lived and she hadn't, and for the longest time he had wished it had been Potter and his spawn, not that wonderful woman he loved, even though he knew that blaming the child for Lily's death was just his own misdirected rage.

The real enemy here was Voldemort. And himself. If he hadn't told Voldemort of the prophecy, Lily would not have died. If Voldemort had not attacked the Potter's that night in Godric's Hollow, Lily would still be alive, with James, and Harry would have parents to love and care for him. It occurred to him suddenly that some of the resentment he felt towards Harry was simply the resentment at himself, placed upon the boy because it was easier. It was easier to blame the son, as he had lived, and the mother had not.

But he knew it was unjustified. He just didn't know what else he could feel.

"A bit chilly today," Remarked a voice, causing the potions master to snap out of his thoughts. Flitwick took a seat in front of Snape on the bench. "Nice weather for a game, though."

"Indeed," He replied in his usual drawl. More and more teachers were approaching, and the student boxes were rapidly filling up. He gave a sneer when Quirrel took a seat behind him. Of course, he not be able to watch the man now, but he would keep his eyes on Harry instead.

Once everyone was seated, the curtains opened, and the Gryffindors ascended their brooms. Snape immediately spotted the small, black-haired green-eyed boy, on the nicest broom of the lot, soar high into the air, farther than anybody else, and then remain simply stationary. As Snape watched him, he saw the boy looked incredibly nervous again. Then the Slytherins took flight, and the match began.

The game passed in a whirlwind of color, sound, ball-throwing and students falling from their brooms, and then the snitch appeared in front of Harry and the boy zoomed forward at lightening speed to catch it. And then it happened; the broom gave a wild jerk, and went absolutely crazy, attempting to throw Harry off of it. Snape's eyes widened as he realized what was happening – the broom was being jinxed.

Damn you, Quirrel, Snape thought, clenching his teeth, and kept his eyes on the boy as he began to mutter the counter-curse. But it only seemed to get worse, not better, and Harry Potter fell, and Snape momentarily was struck with panic, before the boy grabbed a hold of the handle with one hand, dangling in the air. Harry's face was white with fear, and he tightened his grip on the broom as his sweaty palms almost released it.

Hold on, you stupid boy, don't you dare let go. Severus moved his mouth faster, barely restraining himself from turning around and punching Quirrel straight in the face. Damn it, Potter, so help me if you let go of that broom...

But he was panicking; he knew that a spell of this caliber could not be thwarted for very much longer with simply a counter-curse, but Snape could not think of anything else to do. His heart was leaping in his throat as Harry's broom gave another huge jerk attempting to toss him off, and for a moment, Harry almost fell to his death.

With reflexes Snape was thankful the boy had inherited from his father, the child managed to grab hold again, whimpering slightly as he got a good look at the ground and the distance he would fall. Muttering furiously, Severus never wished death upon someone more than he wished it on Quirrel right now. No... Voldemort.

You dare attempt to kill Lily's child, Voldemort? I will not let you kill the son she died to save! Not as long as I'm still breathing! Harry Potter is protected... by me!

Suddenly, he thought he heard the sound of a small voice somewhere close to him, and then a burst erupted, and then someone was screaming at him, "Fire! You're on fire!"

"What?" Snape looked away from Harry, breaking his concentration, and stood up so quickly he extended his arm behind him from the motion, knocking Quirrel over in the process. Restraining a smirk, Snape put out the flames that had somehow made their way onto his robes. But he knew how.

Very nice decoy, Granger. He almost wanted to award the girl points. Shame it couldn't have been him on the receiving end, however...

Severus looked back up at the boy he was supposed to be saving, and saw that the distraction had worked; Harry clambered back onto his broom, and Severus felt a weight lift his shoulders. But then the boy, as he reached for the snitch along with the Slytherin Seeker, tripped and fell onto the ground. When he stood, he made gestures as if he was going to vomit, and the golden snitch popped out of his mouth, securing the match for Gryffindor.

Explosions of happy cheers accelerated around him, and Snape felt a sharp stab of annoyance, having helped the boy to victory. Though as he looked down him, his beaming grin, the way his eyes were lit with happiness, he found he could not be too angry. In fact, if he would admit it to himself, he felt even...a little bit proud of the boy.

Quickly dismissing these feelings, Snape made his way through the crowd, intent on going back to the dungeons and being left alone.

"What... Snape...? But – "

"I'm sorry, Harry, but that's what I saw."

Harry was stricken. "But Snape wouldn't try to hurt me!" He protested, his eyes watering with tears. He was still in his Quidditch robes; the snitch lay forgotten on the chair beside the fire as they sat in the common room. It had been not even an hour since he had won the match, and Harry had gone from positively glowing to angry and upset.

Hermione sighed sadly, shaking her head. "I didn't want to believe it either, but I saw him clearly jinxing your broom. His mouth was moving, and his eyes never left you. That's the number one rule of casting jinxes. He wasn't even blinking."

Harry took a deep breath trying to calm himself. "He wouldn't try to kill me... you must be... I..."

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione watched him tearfully. "I wish I hadn't seen what I saw. But there's no way around it. Professor Snape was trying to kill you."

Tears came so quickly that he could not stop them. He turned and ran, out the portrait hole, down the staircases, as fast as his legs would carry him and did not care who saw him or who spoke to him; he had one destination and one destination only, and wanted to see only one person right now.

Anger and sadness took over his entire body, and he shook with it as he ran and ran towards the dungeons. He did not stop to knock on the door, he simply burst in, and stared hatefully into the shocked face of Severus Snape.

Snape took one glance at Harry's face before he looked alarmed and stood up. "Potter, what —?"

"YOU LIAR!" Harry screamed loudly, his voice echoing along the walls. "YOU DAMNED LIAR, SNAPE! YOU MADE ME BELIEVE YOU! YOU MADE ME TRUST YOU!"

And suddenly the little boy was running at Snape and beating his tiny fists on the man's torso as he sobbed and raged. "I FELT SAFE WHEN I WAS WITH YOU! I FELT YOU WOULD NEVER HURT ME, AND YET YOU DID! I FELT LIKE YOU CARED WHAT HAPPENED TO ME BUT YOU'RE JUST A LYING SNIVELING TRAITOR YOU BIG – "

Snape grabbed his arms roughly, attempting to get the irate boy off of him. "Potter, what the hell has gotten into you? Get your hands off of me at once or so help me – !"

"OR WHAT?" Harry snapped, bursting into a new stream of angry tears, "OR YOU'LL TRY TO KILL ME AGAIN?"

Snape stopped, eyes widening dramatically. Kill him...? What..? "Potter, what are you talking about? I've NEVER tried to kill you!"

"Yes, you did!" Harry cried, attempting to hit Snape again. "Hermione told me! You put a jinx on my broom! She saw you!"

Snape did not relent the grip he had on the boy, but his eyes softened somewhat. So... that's what it was. He had been mistakenly identified as the culprit for the curse, rather than Quirrel. Granger was definitely bright, but even with all the material she read, she would never understand that some jinxes were much more dangerous than by just simply saying it aloud. Some could be used silently. That explained why the boy was so upset..

"Pot – Harry, please listen to me," He spoke gently. "Look at me."

He felt nothing but the use of the boy's first name would calm him, and so it did. The child relaxed, but the tears continued to fall silently down his face, and even so, he looked at his professor, hurt green eyes beseeching him.

"It was not me who tried to kill you. I was performing the counter-curse that would save you."

Harry blinked. "Counter-curse?" He sounded so vulnerable, so scared to trust...

"Yes," Snape told him, his eyes never leaving Harry's. "It was all I could do to keep you on your broom, but he had a stronger jinx than what I could counter... had it been any longer, you would have plummeted to your death." He sighed as he released the boy. "Quirrel was the one who jinxed your broom, Harry. He was the one who tried to kill you."

He let that register in the boy's mind, watching him carefully. Finally, Harry said. "So... so you were trying to save me?"

"Yes, Potter, that is what I just finished explaining to you," Snape said sarcastically, but he knew Harry knew it was not in a harsh tone.

And Snape didn't know how it happened, but all of a sudden, his arms were filled with a crying and laughing little boy who was embracing him tightly. Thunderstruck, and not knowing what to do, because students did NOT hug him – oh, but this student did. This wonderful boy who had come from the most amazing woman he'd ever known – Severus settled for awkwardly patting the boy on the back, and Harry let up, smiling.

"Thank you, Professor Snape," He whispered. "For saving my life. And the broomstick!"

Snape waved a hand. "It's my duty to protect you, Potter. Now," He turned, heading back to his desk, "Because you barged in here unannounced and saw fit to put your hands on me, you have a week's worth of detention scrubbing cauldron's until curfew each evening."

Harry groaned.

"But..." Snape gave him a smirk over his shoulder. "Afterwards, how about you work on that extra credit I never kept my promise for?"

At Harry's cheerful laugh and instant "Yes!", Snape found out something he hadn't been aware of for the longest time, something he had drifted around and had never wanted to admit...

He had – with all that was in him - grown to care about Harry Potter.