A/N- Thanks again to those who are reviewing…Your feedback is really helpful as I go through and edit. So, for all your patience, here is another chapter!

"Potter!" Severus hissed, gliding down the large stone steps menacingly, "Cease your snivelling this instant! Did it ever occur, in that thick scull of yours, that the headmaster set an appointment for a reason?"

At the older man's voice, Harry slowly raised his head. His emerald eyes, usually filled with warmth and cheer, lacked life. "I'm sorry, Sir. It wasn't my in-" he hiccoughed, "-tention to be a b-b-burden…" He closed his eyes, and allowed a tear to trickle down his face. Reining in his emotions, he shook his head sadly. "It's all I've ever been, I know…"

Snape sneered back down at him, internally shaken by the brat's current demeanour. However, the child had to know that he wouldn't receive any sympathy…not from the potions master, at any rate, which led Snape to the almost shocking revelation that perhaps this was a cry for help. And if that were so, would he, Severus -The Greasy Git- Snape, give it?

Not without a fight.

"I demand you stop your selfish wallowing," he snapped, dropping to the younger wizard's level. "There is no point to this disgraceful and painfully humiliating display." He was, of course, referring to his humiliation at having to wilfully talk to the little sod.

Naturally, he pushed aside the notion that he had wilfully proposed that he be the Gryffindor's guardian for the summer break.

Harry attempted to control the sobs that were once again causing his entire body to shake, and forced himself to look at the potions master. "I'm so sorry," he managed to breathe, before another bout of tears escaped, "I'm so sorry…"

"You'll definitely be sorry if you do not end this foolish behaviour and return to Headmaster Dumbledore's office with me." The response slipped through Severus' lips without a second thought.

No, Harry yearned to scream, I won't be. I can't be. There's no possible way I could be any sorrier than I am right now. However, all that he managed was a strangled yelp and a shake of his head.

"Oh for Merlin's sakes, Potter…" The Head of Slytherin sighed, realising that the only way to calm the upset young man down would mean humiliating himself, "You're not doing yourself or your unborn child any favours while you continue to behave in this manner." He spoke softly, sounding almost as if he cared whether the Potter brat and his spawn were healthy in all respects.

Harry's cries died in an instant, and his eyes widened in what could only be described as shock.

Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. Was it really so surprising that he could be gentle and considerate? Another glance at the dumbstruck look on his student's face confirmed that, yes, actually, it was. With another sigh, he continued to play 'Sentimental Snape', making a mental note to threaten the brat into promising never to mention the day to anyone.

"I am not a tyrant, Potter, contrary to what you might believe, and, should you feel the need to discuss an issue which is bothering you these holidays, I will not turn you away." And, as long as the brat turned back into his headstrong self, he would never have to honour that promise.

Harry's thoughts, meanwhile, were far from gaining in confidence or positive energy. In fact, as Snape spoke to him, an even stronger sense of guilt flooded his senses. After all; the man was destroying his 'evil git' image in order to help him, The-Pain-In-Snape's-Arse Potter, feel better.

This was the real man that Harry had fallen for, despite the fact that he had never witnessed him in action. He'd known, on some strange level, after witnessing the man's slight softening in the classroom, that Snape was a nice person at heart. And he'd gone and ruined any chances of ever befriending the man, due to his and Draco's illegal fling. Not only that, but he knew that his unborn child would be deprived of another parent, and not even an evil, cruel git of a parent either! But one who would most likely be loving, gentle and caring (if Snape's current behaviour was anything to go by) under any 'normal' circumstances.

Another torrent of tears fell from Harry's eyes as that last thought seeped into his brain. He'd ruined his child's life before it had even begun; all because he'd been selfish. All because he'd wanted to fulfil his own egotistical fantasies. All because he'd longed, for just one moment, to feel wanted and needed by the one man who would never look at him in any way other than contempt.

But he's not looking at you contemptuously now, is he? The little voice in Harry's head decided to interrupt, causing the teenager to glance across at the man whose genes his child would be sharing. No, he's not. And he will listen to you. Said so himself. It was true…but then, Snape had no way of knowing what exactly it was that was upsetting Harry the most. And once he found out… He shuddered to think of the reaction he'd receive. Not that he didn't deserve it, mind you. But would he look past Harry's foibles and not misjudge and mistreat the child that would be genetically his own? Probably not. However, that didn't mean that Harry shouldn't at least try to make amends. Which would, of course, begin with him apologising for this embarrassing behaviour, and then attempting to get on with the rest of the holidays.

Sniffling, and blushing, Harry swallowed what he could of his sobs and forced himself to meet Snape's calculating gaze. "I…I'm sorry, Professor…" He struggled to get up from the floor as he spoke, "I don't know what came o-over me…" Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to appear calm and collected. "I don't deserve your kindness," this part, he felt, was the most truthful, "and I promise I'll make this all up to you at some point…" He had a lot to make up for. More than Snape could possibly realise. "A-and I swear I…It wont happen again."

Eyeing the boy cautiously, Severus reared himself back up into full height and nodded coldly. "Indeed." He turned swiftly, moving gracefully into the castle, "Come along then, Potter. The Headmaster has been forced to wait long enough."

-?-

Harry sighed, and sat down on his bed. Snape had already shown him the manor and the grounds, however briefly, and had clearly stated the areas which were strictly prohibited. And, despite the size of the estate, it had barely taken the potions master an hour to rush Harry around the property, issue commands, then hide away in his private study, leaving his student to "entertain" himself. And entertain himself he did, with thoughts of Hermione, and Ron, and whether either of them would ever speak to him again, for surely Ron would have been informed -numerous times- on the train home, about how callous their supposed 'best friend' had been.

Harry let out a sob. He was, once again, feeling miserable and guilty. Hermione had every right to be angry with him, and he wouldn't blame her if she really did choose to ignore him, but the mere thought of that happening brought tears to The-Boy-Who-Lived's eyes, and caused his chest to constrict in the most painful way. Not that he didn't deserve it, of course. After all, he'd been positively awful...and he didn't really know why. His hand slowly drifted to his abdomen, and he began rubbing it subconsciously.

Then a thought struck him. Could his outburst have been hormonal? That made sense. After all, he'd certainly been moodier since he fell pregnant...but he'd never connected the two together until now. Oh, how he hoped Hermione would also realise it!

Of course she will! The voice inside his head chirped. How long have you known her to hold a grudge without first looking at the situation logically?

He had to admit, his brain had a point. But he'd make sure to owl her an apology anyway, just to be on the safe side.

-?-

Severus sat at his desk, a scowl marring his face. He was frustrated. Frustrated with Potter for behaving in a worrying manner and frustrated with himself for actually caring. What in Merlin's name was it about the brat that intrigued him so bloody much? It certainly wasn't the Gryffindor's personality, nor was it his behaviour or even his current predicament. No, it was something the Slytherin couldn't pinpoint, and that alone was driving him insane beyond belief, which -of course- was the epicentre of an ever-maddening cycle.

He'd even tried conversing with the brat, for Merlin's sake! This growing preoccupation with the younger wizard's health and safety was preposterous! Why should he, Severus -Potter Is The Pain In My Arse- Snape give two knuts whether the boy was happy or not?

Because you've let him get under your skin, his mind answered, that's why.

And, as testament to his growing insanity, he rolled his eyes in response to his internal monologue.

Of -bloody- course he'd let Potter in under his skin. What he really wanted to know was why.

"Master Snape, sir..." A small voice interrupted his musings, "I is very sorry to bother you..."

The wizard glanced across at his elf. "What is it, Kreeper?" He asked mildly, observing the fidgeting creature expectantly.

Kreeper wrung his hands together nervously. It was not a good sign. Snape's worst suspicions were confirmed when the house elf next spoke. "It is Mr. Harry Potter, sir...He is not telling Kreeper why he is sad...He is not even telling Kreeper how to make him more comfortable!"

The poor child. Snape's inner voice drawled sarcastically. Yet another ploy for attention, no doubt.

He sighed. "Do not bother with Mr Potter, Kreeper," he told the elf, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose. "He is not... well... at the present." The Slytherin held up a hand to silence the elf's attempt to speak. "And, no. There is nothing you can do for him as of yet."

Kreeper's ears drooped, signalling his sadness and defeat. He looked up at his master shyly, a question playing on his wrinkled lips. "Will Mr Harry Potter be getting better?"

Severus allowed a small smile to grace his features. Kreeper was such a spoilt house elf; he'd been given a proper uniform and had always been treated kindly...Snape's own mother had even offered him wages! And so it was no surprise, then, that the elf felt he had freedom of thought and action.

"In time, Kreeper, he will be fine."

The Potions Master's thoughts drifted to his late mother whenever he spoke to the house elf. She'd truly respected the creature...Snape was certain that she'd even considered Kreeper one of the family! His fond smile broadened. His mother had been a gentle soul. He'd never really understood how she'd 'connected' with his father.

His father.

Severus scowled. The man had been an absolute tyrant. He'd been arrogant, demanding and mind-numbingly abusive. Then again, he had been a true Death Eater. One of the original first circle, to be precise.

Snape shuddered at the thought.

After all, he knew what the position entailed. He'd been there numerous times himself. For Dumbledore's Cause. It angered him to think that his own father had willingly partaken in the ruthless rape and murder of countless Muggles and Muggle-borns alike. That he had enjoyed such behaviour.

Therefore, it wasn't really all that hard to believe that he'd ended his own wife's life without a second thought. That his mother had died by her husband's hand, after she'd discovered the shocking truth.

Then he'd had the audacity to demand that Severus -then merely 16 years of age- 'dispose' of her remains.

It had been this incident which had pushed the young Slytherin into a life of espionage. Everything he'd done for the Light, he'd done for his poor mother.

"Is Master Snape feeling alright?" Kreeper's hesitant voice interrupted his musings for the second time that day.

He glanced down at the elf. "I am quite well, Kreeper, thank you."

The house elf heaved a sigh of relief. "That is very good to know," he replied, his ears flapping with the merry bobbing of his head. "Kreeper worried Master is also being unwell, like Mr. Harry Potter."

The Potions Master allowed himself a small smile at the elf's naivety. Certainly, Kreeper did not know the details of Potter's 'illness', but it was vaguely amusing that he assumed Severus might also contract it.

"Rest assured, Kreeper, that there is absolutely no possibility of myself contracting Mr Potter's unfortunate affliction."

In fact, he'd surrendered -many years earlier- to the notion that the Snape line would die out with him. It had, of course, pained him at first, when he'd realised that he'd have to live his life alone, as any partner he chose would be in constant danger...and he couldn't promise that he'd return from his missions in one piece, if at all. A life like that would not have been fair on another soul. And now it was too late.

Or, at least, he felt it was.

At 36 he was still young, especially for a wizard, it was true. But he'd become accustomed to being alone. Not only that, because he knew he could learn to share his home, but he knew what others thought of him. He knew what they saw him as. A Death Eater. A man no better than his father before him. So he kept to himself, weary of anyone who showed even a vague interest in him, often reverting to his cruel, snarling persona -the one his students knew well- in order to ward any possible suitors off.

Pulling out of his reverie, Severus realised that the elf was still babbling at his side. "...That is being very good...Kreeper is always saying to the other elves that Master Snape is never being unwell...Master Snape was always being a very good boy..."

The wizard sighed, and shook his head. "Will that be all, Kreeper?"

The elf eyed him critically, and he cursed the memory of his mother for allowing the creature too much freedom at times.

Severus sighed.

"What?"

"You is going to talk to Mr. Harry Potter, isn't you?" The should-be servant's tone was accusing, as if he knew his master would ignore his young charge's obvious anguish.

Which he most likely would have done.

"Yes, Kreeper, I will go and speak to Potter." He narrowed his own gaze, and remained unsurprised when the elf ignored the stare. "Have you no work to do? I was under the impression that the owlery was still in need of repairs."

Mumbling, Kreeper vanished, leaving Severus pondering exactly how he was supposed to cheer the bloody brat up.

-?-

Harry sighed as he rolled the completed parchment up, hoping against hope that Hermione would actually read it, rather than throw it away in her anger.

He closed his eyes, and attempted to ignore the wave of guilt that threatened to overwhelm him.

A knock at his door shook him from his stupor. He knew it was Snape. After all, he was the only other person in the manor, and the house elves, as Harry had discovered, did not knock.

"It's open, Sir."

The potions master entered, his eyes scanning the room before finally settling on the young wizard. "I trust you've found your accommodations acceptable."

Harry nodded in response, offering the Head of Slytherin a small, but genuine smile. "It's wonderful, Professor. I've never stayed anywhere this..." he struggled to find a suitable word, "...elegant." A blush tinted his cheeks, and he looked away, feeling sheepish and moderately ashamed. "I don't deserve your hospitality."

"Indeed." Snape quirked an eyebrow. "And what makes you say that?"

"Let's face it, Sir," The Gryffindor forced himself to meet the other's piercing gaze, "I've never been exactly pleasant to you..." The older man scoffed, as if to stress the under-exaggeration. Harry frowned and continued. "And it's not as though either of us gave the other a chance. And I don't particularly blame you, after seeing what my father was like." He looked to the ground. "I would have hated me too, in your position."

"I do not hate you, Potter. Not any more, at any rate." Severus felt compelled to be honest with the younger man. He seemed genuinely bereaved for his behaviour, and for his father's before him. Something which he, himself, could identify with, and it startled him.

Harry shook his head, "But I deserve it...To have you despise me, I mean. I've done so many stupid, cruel things..." His hand drifted to his abdomen, unintentionally catching Snape's attention. Unaware of the older wizard's stare, he continued to babble. "And I'm really sorry for looking into your pensieve last year...I shouldn't have...and I don't expect your forgiveness...I just ask that, regardless of everything I've done wrong...and everything my dad did, you won't hold it against ou-" he corrected himself quickly, "my child."

Snape sighed. He knew it had been wrong of him to judge the boy by his father, not that he'd openly admit it, of course, but he would start the mini-Potter's existence with a clean slate. "You have my word, Mr. Potter."

The boy heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Professor Snape."

An invisible smile tugged at the corner of the Slytherin's mouth. He'd discovered part of what he found so intriguing about the brat.

Potter wore his heart on his sleeve, but wasn't afraid to fight for something he felt others needed. He was foolhardy, but still had enough cunning to manipulate a situation in his favour. And he was eerily sensitive, but would always throw the parting shot.

Harry Potter was a Slytherin in a Griffindor's clothing.

He reminded Severus of a younger version of himself…without the Gryffindor's clothing, naturally.

Perhaps discovering his secrets wouldn't be so difficult and draining after all.

-?-

"Professor," Harry found himself asking two weeks into the holidays, "Would I be asking too much of you if I were to ask you to look over my Defence essay?"

They were sitting in the library, vaguely comfortable with each other's presence. It was true they had fought numerous times already, over trivial things, but the two were slowly building a positive relationship, of sorts. This pleased Harry, as he was determined to get the Slytherin to accept their child as his own. And it pleased Severus, as he was determined to uncover the Gryffindor's secrets.

Snape raised an eyebrow in his charge's direction. "Are you prepared for my criticism?"

"I've put up with that for 6 years now, Sir. And I assure you it is nowhere near as...harsh… as Hermione's."

Ah, Hermione. He hadn't yet received a reply. He tried to tell himself that she was most likely too busy enjoying her trip, but, deep down, he was worried, and his guilt gnawed at his insides.

Severus watched as the boy's face fell, having mentioned his female companion. He'd barely spoken of either the know-it-all or the Weasley boy, and when he had, an air of sadness seemed to overcome him.

Not all is well in paradise.

He cleared his throat, and pinned the younger wizard with a glare. "Perhaps you find Miss Granger's style of critique more hurtful because her opinion actually matters to you?"

The Gryffindor appeared to consider this. "I s'pose...But, despite what you might think, your opinion has mattered a bit in recent years...Even if you were a bit of a-" he caught the warning in his professor's stare, and finished quickly, "-bully."

"Indeed, Potter?"

There was something in the way he spoke that made Harry blush. "I've respected you for a while, actually...I mean, long before..." He left the sentence hanging, not particularly wanting to admit his crush outright, despite the fact that he already had.

Snape, on the other hand, decided to push the boy further. "Before your lapse in sanity, Potter?"

Harry's eyes widened upon hearing his own words used against him. He felt awful. "Sir...I didn't mean...Well, I said it to be spiteful..." He'd turned a deep shade of crimson, but forged on. "But it wasn't really a lapse...It was probably when I was most sane..." Again, without meaning to, he put his hand over his stomach, "I...it wasn't a lapse. Never will be."

And, on that note, he leapt up from his seat and fled to his room, leaving an incredibly perplexed Potions Master in his wake.

-?-

"Potter," Severus knocked at the boy's bedroom door the next morning, "I am aware that you do not wish to speak with me...However, it is unhealthy to remain locked up in your rooms..."

Not only that, but it was upsetting Kreeper, which was the real reason he was once again making a fool of himself.

He waited for a response, but received none. His impatience growing, he rapped on the door once more. "Potter, if you do not answer me at once, I will not hesitate to break down this door."

Still, there was no sound of life emanating from the room. He tried the knob, and the door swung open easily. Scanning the room, he found that his young charge was nowhere to be found.

"Potter?"

There was a faint moan from the bathroom.

Following the sound, Severus soon found Potter on his knees in front of the toilet. He looked dreadful; a sheen of sweat covering his skin, and causing his hair to fall flat against his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, and were shadowed by dark circles.

Overcome by a wave of sympathy, Snape moved to the boy's side, and summoned a damp washcloth from the basin. He held it out to the younger wizard, who shot him a small, but grateful, smile.

"Thankyou," Harry croaked, mopping at his brow and the corners of his lips. Then, without warning, another bout of nausea hit him, and left him dry heaving over the porcelain bowl once more.

Severus was uncertain as to what he should do next. He felt the urge to comfort the boy, but it went against everything he'd taught himself, and everything that he felt he was. Potter continued to retch, and Snape could see the tears threatening to spill from the boy's eyes. He was torn. Then, before he knew exactly what was happening, his hand was rubbing gentle circles on Potter's back, in an attempt to relax the boy's aching muscles, and perhaps, on some level, offer some support.

He felt Potter still in surprise, before he leant back into the comforting touch.

Harry closed his eyes, not wanting Snape to see him any weaker than he already was. He refused to cry. His throat burned, his back ached from being hunched over for so long, and his stomach, having nothing left to throw up, was churning in the most painful way. But he wouldn't give in.

Suddenly there was a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles, settling his aching muscles, reassuring him that he wasn't alone.

He leant into the contact. Savouring the familiar touch. He didn't know how long it would last, so he committed every second to memory, wishing the strong arms would envelop him and hold him tight.

The nausea abated.

He opened his eyes, and reached for the washcloth again, cleaning himself up a bit.

The hand left his back, and he wanted to cry at the loss of contact.

Forcing himself to look at his host, he was surprised at the concern lacing the obsidian orbs staring back at him.

"Thank you," he managed, his throat constricting with his emotions, and burning further. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he attempted to blink them away. "I'm sorry, Professor…"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Severus sighed, and, not knowing how to respond, let his reply escape from his lips without a second thought.

"It's Severus, Harry."

A/N- I will apologise for Severus' OOCness…but I love Sentimental Snape so much…and he wasn't terribly Out Of Character…only a little! LOL…I promise you, though, as in any HP/SS romance-type fic, it'll only get more OOC…

Ciao for now,

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