Whoohoo! Just over 3000 views! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and I encourage you, and the rest of you to continue to review. I won't be cruel and say it will make me post faster, but it will put me in a very good mood! Every review puts a smile on my face, and every reviewer gets a reply! Predictions, questions, thoughts, and critism are all welcome! How many of you are going to see the Hunger Games tonight or tomorrow? Happy Friday! Love, Inspired.

Hidden Feelings
Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. ~From a headstone in Ireland

The rest of the day passed quickly, and as ordered, Harry made his way down to the Dungeons after supper. With a knock at the door, Harry opened the door and walked into the Potions classroom.

"Good evening, sir," Harry said, trying to keep back the harshness in his tone.

"Good even Mr. Potter," Snape said, making no hint that he had heard the change in Harry's voice. "You will be preparing ingredients for brewing this evening." When Harry took his place at the workbench, Snape continued, "I need you to make a vial of Gurdyroot extract, and then skin four of these worms." Snape held up the jar of worms. "Cut them up into even pieces. Next you will gut this rat, but keep the heart intact. Now if you can't handle what most first years can do, I'll have you cleaning the floor for the rest of the year," Snape drawled.

"Do I get gloves?" Harry asked. But he already knew the answer. Snape threw him a glare and started stirring the mixture that was already in the cauldron.

Sighing, Harry got to work. None of the guts really disgusted him, but trying to pick it out from under his fingernails after was going to be real fun. The minutes seemed to fly by to Harry's surprise. Halfway through his detention, Snape motioned for him to come take a break. What surprised Harry even more was Snape had brought him a glass of water. Apparently Harry's surprise was also displayed on his face. "Potter if your eyebrows go any higher they will be in your hair," Snape scowled. "Scourgify," as his wand pointed at Harry's fingers. "Since you've finished cutting up the ingredients, you will be organizing the ingredients for the first years' class tomorrow. Here's the list," Snape continued. "A simple organizing task should be difficult enough for you, Potter."

Harry resisted the urge to retaliate with a comment. Instead, he surprised both of them by talking in a calm voice. "Sir, ever since I came to Hogwarts, I have been told what a great woman my mother was. But lately I've been hearing rumours about her secretly being a traitor. I've heard how she tricked my dad into loving her, and how she cheated on him," Harry said, purposely not looking directly in Snape's eyes... and yet, the dark eyes bore into him.

"I assure you Potter, while your father was an airhead, your mother was not," Snape stated. A new tone in his voice had arisen. He had turned slightly paler and his eyes in their normal obsidian black boring ways had a pain in them. His face was emotionless, but as they say, 'eyes are the window to the soul,' and Snape's soul was crying out.

"I still wonder, how can I know they're not right?" Harry inquired further.

"Potter, why are you telling me this?" Snape asked.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno, sir."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Your mother was a kind, generous person, and she found something special in everyone."

Harry took a sip of his water before entering the danger zone. "Did you know her Professor?"

Snape obviously had thought Harry had gone too far on this question. "Get back to work, Potter." He sneered.

Harry knew he had pushed his luck anyway. He nodded and got up to do as he was asked. Obeying Snape felt strange, but he knew he had to do it. Suddenly a weakness over took Harry. He collapsed on the ground and fell into the darkness.

Mum, Harry thought smiling. He approached the red haired mother excitedly.

"What are you doing here Mum?" Harry asked.

"I could ask you the same thing sweetheart," Lily answered, hugging her son.

Harry embraced his mum without hesitation. Her comfort was extremely relieving.

"Mum," Harry asked cautiously. "Did you know Snape?"

Lily held out her son in her arms, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "Yes I did Harry. And I know what you are doing," she said, giving him a look.

Harry grinned, "I know. It was your idea in the first place. You visited me in a dream, remember?"

"Yes, I do," Lily confirmed. "How is it coming along?"

"Not good," Harry said. "He won't open up, but my friend Hermione has an idea for a potion that will render him unconscious so he can talk to you guys."

Lily smiled again. "That sounds wonderful. Promise me you'll be careful?"

Harry nodded. "You better go back, Harry," Lily said gently.

"Bye, Mum," Harry said softly.

"I'll always be here," Lily said, pointing to Harry's heart. "I love you."

"Love you too."

"Potter!" Snape called as soon as he saw Harry fall.

"Goddammit Potter!" Snape growled more at himself than anyone else.

Harry slowly opened his eyes. He was still lying where he had fallen, Snape hovering over him.

"Get up," Snape ordered.

Harry, dazed, got up. Swaying a little, but steadied himself on the nearby table. Snape shoved the water glass in Harry's hands, gratefully taking it, Harry took a gulp.

"Thank you sir," Harry acknowledged.

Snape ignored the comment. "You're dismissed from the rest of your detention. Go see Madame Pomfrey for a Pepper-up Potion if you are still feeling ill."

Harry nodded once again, and left, but not before snagging the NEWT Potions book he saw on the way out.

Snape sat down in his private quarters by the roaring fire. Oh Lily, he thought guiltily. You'd kill me if you saw how I treat your son… Enough about Potter, he thought bitterly. Pouring himself a glass of Firewhiskey, he drank slowly, savouring the burning sensation in his throat. He tightened his knuckles at the cause of his guilt. No, he growled. No….no…no… his flashback of that horrid night of finding Lily dead displayed in front of his eyes. He fell to the ground; the glass shattered and a sickening crunch of his hand hitting the stone floor could be heard. He laid there for a moment, finally letting the tears flow. The cold stone was warm to his skin; he had turned a deathly white, which deeply contrasted his black hair and robes. His eyes had turned to bottomless pits. Bottling up all his feelings once again, he built up the mental wall he tried so hard to keep. He had no time for self-pity, picking himself up off the floor, he quickly fixed his hand and the mess of the drink. He had potions to brew and classes to plan. He couldn't let Potter's curiosity distract him. Off he went in a brisk whip of his black cape. Potter didn't matter.