Snape felt sick, like he was going to throw up. The boy, his muggle family, Lockhart. If he got his hands on that sick bastard…

"Mr. Potter, the door is locked. You will not be able to leave that way."

"No! You can't, you can't do this to me!"

"Yes I can, Mr. Potter. And I will stay here as long as it takes until you cooperate."

"What are you gonna do? Tell Dumbledore? Tell your Slytherins? Tell the whole world?"

"Harry. Listen to me. I will not tell anyone. I will not tell. Do you understand me, Harry?"

Harry had never seen the kindness of Snape, and something within him told him to comply, but the other half was screaming at him to turn away, run, do anything to get out and away from him.

"No. No. No. Please." Harry said pleadingly, desperation in his eyes, similarly to how he did in the memory. It sent a chill down Severus's spine: Was he really that bad? Was he so bad that he pleaded with him in the same method he did Lockhart? His stomach did a somersault and bile rose in his throat.

"Please Harry, I will not hurt you, just follow me."

"How can I trust you," he cried. "You hate me!"

"I do not hate you, now come with me. Now." Harry hesitantly took a step forward, ensuring a safe distance between himself and Snape. He walked like a prisoner on his way to death row: dejected eyes and sullen face, slouched posture and wobbly gait. They passed through a door behind Snape's desk, one that led to a hallway with portraits. At the end was a portrait of Salazar Slytherin.

"Ah Severus, and who might this be?"

"I don't. Have. Time. For this. Salazar."

"Fine. But give me the password first."

"Powdered root of asphodel."

"That's the spirit, now go on ahead." The portrait chuckled. Then, he glanced towards Harry, noticing his tear laden face. The door rapidly swung open, giving Severus a curt nod. The door swung closed behind them.

Harry was surprised, Snape had decent enough taste. It was a bit old, but cozy. A brick fireplace, complete with fire, two large sofas and a rug in the middle. Bookshelves lined the room, thick volumes and other literature practically hit the ceiling. On the rug sat a wooden coffee table with extravagant details carved into it. In the center of the table sat succulents and a copy of the Daily Prophet. Snape noticed Harry's glance at it.

"Rather dreadful isn't it? I don't know how that Rita Skeeter has a job"

"Stop pretending like we are friends, Snape." Harry spat as icily as he could muster, crossing his arms. For a moment, Snape wondered why he wasn't a Slytherin. They sat in silence for a moment before Snape broke the silence, Harry sitting with his back to the door and Snape with his back to the fireplace.

"How do you like your tea?"

"Tea?"

"Milley?" With a small pop, a house-elf with big round orbs and floppy ears appeared complete with a smile on her face.

"What does Master Snape be needing, sir?"

"Tea, however Mr. Potter likes it."

"Coming right up, Masters Snape and Potter!" She smiled and disappeared with a pop. Once again they sat in silence.

Snape was mulling over the information, still seeming too much to bear. Lily's son, her son. He had sworn to keep him safe, but his anger at James had blinded him. He had failed her.

Harry was glaring at him as Snape stared off into space. Where was he all those years ago when he needed Snape? Yelling at him in class, making his life a living hell. How dare he think he has the right to invade his mind, his memories, and then force him into Snape's private quarters. He had no right!

A pop startled him, causing him to flinch. Missy came back with the tea, and bowed respectfully.

"Thank you, Milley." Harry said hoarsely, it was like the words were taken from his mouth unable to speak. He knew what was coming, the questions. Like always, whenever a teacher would find out, they would send a letter home. Then, Vernon and Petunia would call him a liar, a freak, lie about him, and turn every teacher against him. And then, he would be beaten within an inch of his life. And once again, he would be all alone.

"Potter, we must discuss this matter. Drink your tea." Snape carefully poured him a cup with nimble hands, a result of years of potioneering.

"I will not drink any damn tea! Let me leave!"

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Mr. Potter. If you do not comply, I will be forced to get external help."

"But you said-"

"I am aware of what I said, Mr. Potter," He said, waving his hand as if to brush off the comment. "However, that was should you comply. I am bound by certain rules as a teacher, and even now I am breaking them. I am giving you a chance."

"Bollocks! This is blackmail!"

"This is what I'm legally required to do Mr. Potter, i-"

"To hell with your "legally required" bullshit! Let me fucking leave, Snape!"

"Language-"

"You watch your fucking language!"

"Mr. Potter you do not speak to me in that manner I am you prof-"

"Just shut up! Shut up! Shut up! What do you know about my life anyways? What do you know about getting abused?"

"Because it happened to me too!" And suddenly, the anger dissipated, leaving the pair in a stunned silence.

—-

Hello everyone! As promised, chapter 3. Honestly, I'm astonished by the number of readers so far considering that I posted the first chapter 2-3 hours ago :)