Severus Snape was furious. He had just re-entered his office after an extremely painful conversation with an addled Slytherin quidditch player to find Harry Potter ensconced in his memories. The blatant temerity of the brat, to invade his privacy like that, entering his pensieve without a care! He would ensure that there would be serious repercussions for that, on his magic.

He stalked over to reach a shaking hand in and pull the boy out by the back of his robes. By God, this was the last time that boy pulled a stunt like this. If he had to chain him up and set a bell and collar to him, he would.

His dark eyes glinted in rage as he took the boy by his shoulders and shook him, hard. The brat seemed frantic, now that he had been discovered enjoying viewing his teacher's memories.

"Ow- stop it, please, I-"

The pathetic mewling was cut off by a hissed, "Silence!"

Severus took a predatorial step forward, dragging the boy with him by his bony shoulders.

"What. Possessed. You. That is my pensieve, my memories. Not yours," he spat, "to pursue."

He slammed the boy against the stone wall, ignoring the small yelp.

"Enjoying it, were we, Potter? Revelling in the exploits of your sainted father and his companions?"

The moment the imbecile's mouth opened, he continued. "You could do with a good whipping, boy. Blatant disobedience. Invasion of a professor's privacy. Well?"

The boy began to struggle weakly, now that the shock had worn off. Severus shook him again, hard, and his idiot head banged off the stone. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he would have to be careful not to injure the child, but he found that he didn't care.

"Where are your manners, boy? Your sense? Your father was an arrogant idiot, but I would have hoped that your aunt would have raised you out of it. Obviously his genes were too strong to overpower, and the claim of 'raising the boy-who-lived' went to her head."

Severus forcibly loosened his grip a little, trying to calm down slightly.

The boy only gaped at him. Then he blurted out in a near-hysterical tone, "I didn't know, I'm sorry, I didn't realise, I didn't think, I- "

He cut off, gasping for breath. Severus clenched his teeth so tight it hurt.

"That is absolutely no excuse, boy. Have you no consideration that others may have affairs they don't want idiot, ignorant, asinine, teenage boys prying into?"

The boy was silent for a moment more, then he burst out hysterically. "Petunia won't care anyway. Write to her, do, and tell her." He laughed frantically. "Vernon will be so pleased- owl mail- they won't read it- they would be happy," he gasped, "if I were expelled." Winding down, he slumped, Severus's grip being the only thing holding him up.

Severus slackened his grip, confused. Petunia? He barely noted a lone tear sliding its way down the boy's face.

Harry took a shuddering breath, and forced himself not to cry. It was too much, what with his father and the yelling and Snape being right, Umbridge and the blood quill, and… Snape was right. His father was an arrogant bastard, a bully. And his mother had hated him, and Harry couldn't blame her. Was he really just like his father? His heart felt like it was about to explode, it was thumping so loudly.

Harry slumped further down, till Snape's loosened hands had let go and he was sitting awkwardly on the floor, wanting nothing more than to no longer exist. He wished that he were up in his dormitory, laughing with Ron, and that Dumbledore had never even mentioned occlumency lessons too him. He felt progressively queasier as the silence continued, Snape still standing over him. What was the man going to do?.

"Petunia?"

The breaking of the silence startled Harry, and he whipped his gaze up to his Professor, whose hands had dropped to his sides. Blinking confusedly, he couldn't help but notice that the man, while still angry, had calmed down and no longer seemed ready to hit him. Snape actually seemed more bewildered and tired than murderous.

Harry rubbed his eyes fiercely. "What?" His tone came out defensively and he tried to moderate it, scared to anger the man again. "Er- sorry. What, sir?"

"You are staying with your Aunt Petunia, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes, exhausted. "Huh? I mean, yes, I spose. Vernon and Petunia and Dudley and me. One great big happy family."

Snape seemed to hesitate, then grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up. "Come," he ordered. Harry found himself trailing after the elder man to be seated in the hard chair in front of the desk. He fiddled with his hands, his gaze down on his lap while Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in a surprisingly human way.

"Look at me, Potter."

Harry raised his eyes unwillingly, feeling a massive surge of guilt. He had invaded the man's privacy, and seen what must have been his innermost thoughts and experiences. He deserved whatever was coming.

"You live with your Aunt Petunia." It was a statement, not a question. "What of your other aunt?"

Harry's nose wrinkled in confusion as he tried to process this. "Aunt Marge? She doesn't like me, only bulldogs and Dudley, and she's not actually related to me."

"No, Potter, not that Aunt." Snape's voice was tight with exasperation.

"But I don't have any others. Or did my father have a sister? Are there any relatives on that side?" He abruptly closed his mouth, remembering who he was speaking to. He had almost become excited then, but knowing his luck they'd either be dead or as bad as his father. His father, who had bullied Snape. The man wouldn't want to talk about the relatives on that side.

He offered a rather meek "Sorry, sir," as the man sitting across from him stayed silent.

Snape let out a small sigh, then folded his hands neatly on the table.

"What of your other aunt, Potter, your mother's eldest sister? I believe she was four years older than your mother, and two years older than Petunia. What do you know of her?"

Harry was now extremely confused. Another sister? His mother had another sister?

"Petunia never mentioned an elder sister. I don't think we ever met one, either." He frowned at that. "Why does it matter? Not that it doesn't matter to me, but why does it matter to you at all?"

"Potter, you will address me with the-"

"Yeah, with the respect and all that. Sir. Why though? Oh. Why, professor?"

Snape rapped his hand sharply on the desk, catching Harry's attention.

"Potter, your disrespect tonight has been astounding considering you have recently snooped in my pensieve. I will say it again. You will. Address me. With respect."

He held the boy's gaze until it dropped, with a muttered 'Yes, sir," that sounded contrite.

"Look at me, boy. Do you know anything of her? I was under the impression that you had been housed with her, Petunia being less than welcoming to those who are magical."

Harry, meeting his teacher's eyes, was surprised that the man had actually deigned to answer his question.

"Anytime soon, if you please, Potter."

"Look, I've never heard of another aunt til you said I had one just then. I've lived with Petunia all my life. Sir." He couldn't help but think that maybe he would like it if he did live with this supposed other aunt, even if Snape seemed to prefer her. Then again, that was to Petunia. His mind seemed all tangled. A new aunt- or rather one that he'd never heard of.

Harry, watching Snape, saw that the older man did not seem inclined to say anything. This gave him the courage to ask the question that had been bothering him.

"What was her name?"

Snape's eyes seemed to focus on his again, and he added a hasty "sir".

"Your mother's eldest sister was called Azalea Evans. I do believe that flower names were a tradition in the family." He shook his head a little, just a quick jerk, which seemed to clear his mind back to its usual state. "Potter, I will think on this. Azalea would have been entirely preferable for placement considering Petunia's hatred of anything out of the ordinary. I need to find why you were placed with her instead."

Harry nodded bemusedly, wondering if the man was off-centre enough to forget about the incident with the pensieve. It certainly seemed that way, and Snape had sounded as if he were ending a lecture with his last few sentences.

A long, potion-stained hand shot out and grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes to stare into the dark ones of the potions master. Harry had known that it would be too good to be true.

"This in no way excuses your disgusting behaviour and abhorrent treatment of my privacy, boy. You will report to me tomorrow evening to further discuss suitable repercussions. I believe that what you have done is worthy of detentions for the rest of the year, and don't you even try to deny it. I will consider whether I will teach you further occlumency."

Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry once more. Snape would eviscerate him when he was no longer distracted, he was sure. And he knew that he needed the occlumency, even if Snape was a horrid teacher.

"Out." The man pointed a long finger at the door. Harry wasted no time, scurrying away out of the dungeons then running up to Gryffindor tower.

Severus leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. The Potter boy had been placed with Petunia, the girl who had shunned magic and bullied her smaller sister about it. He had no idea what to think about this fact. When living with Azalea, any bad manners and arrogance was not so much product of his upbringing as of his father's genes, a way of bad blood outing itself. With Petunia- he wasn't so sure. Petunia would not have coddled the boy. Petunia would not have taught any basic potions techniques that any child with a magical parent should have known before stepping foot in Hogwarts.

Was Potter really incalculably lazy, or just exceedingly ignorant due to his upbringing as what would have amounted to a muggle with no knowledge of magic? Was his arrogance and stupidity an asinine teenage reaction against those who had housed and taught him or the actions of a clueless boy who had no idea of what he was doing?

Severus Snape had no idea. The only thing he knew for sure was that Petunia would never have treated a magical nephew well in any sense of the word.