A/N: First off, I want to thank you all for the kind words and support regarding How to Ask the Question. I don't currently have an account on any other fanfiction site and I don't think it's in my immediate future, but I'll let you guys know if I do. Also, if any of you would like to read it now, feel free to PM me with your email address and I'll send it right along :)

Also, the first chapter of the alternate ending of Unexpected Effects is going up tomorrow! I'm not making any promises regarding a publishing schedule since it's not done yet, but I've kept you guys waiting long enough. In the mean time, this story will keep going with my regular MWF updates.

Enjoy!

Chapter Two

5

Harry had a lot of trouble explaining what had happened to Ron and Hermione. He couldn't seem to get across the feeling of being told in such blatant terms that he was irrelevant. Both of them had grown up in loving families and had always been cared about. Hermione kept insisting that he wasn't irrelevant, that he had saved the world, and Harry kept repeating that wasn't what he meant, he meant that Snape thought he was. The point wasn't his overall relevance but how Snape felt about him.

This led to yet another conversation with Ron about how Snape was a greasy, slimy dungeon bat and wasn't worth the time of day. Harry made a few cursory attempts at changing his mind, but that truly wasn't worth it. He could go on and on about what he had seen in the Pensieve and what that meant, but it fell on deaf ears. Ron was willing to admit that Snape hadn't been trying to kill Harry but that was it. Instead, Ron kept going back to the fact that Snape had given him detention the day before exams.

Throughout the argument cleverly disguised as a civil conversation, Hermione continually and quietly interjected statements regarding Harry's feelings towards Snape. She started off by reminding him of what he'd said while drunk, moved to the cuff incident and how Harry had reacted to it, and finally to now, pointing out that Harry's need for his approval was most telling of all.

Eventually Harry exploded.

"Fine!" he yelled. His dorm was empty with the exception of Ron and Hermione and that was good, because he didn't think he could hold back any further. "You know what? Fucking fine. I'm in love with Snape. You don't understand, you couldn't possibly understand. How he got to where he is now, that could have been me. The only difference was that I was marked to be 'special' and Snape wasn't. If I had just been me, coming from a half-blood family and raised by Muggles, if I had been sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, I'd be exactly like him. So just let him alone, okay?

"He risked everything for me, everything. Neither of you have any idea what that's like. Don't you dare say it was only because of my mother because I already know that, and ignoring that fact is all I've got, especially now that I've forced Snape to admit he hates me, which was a really brilliant move on my part. Six months, and then it doesn't matter anymore. I only told you about our conversation because I knew you'd weasel it out of me eventually and, silly me, I thought you might feel bad for me and sympathize. Clearly that's not the case." Harry glanced at the clock. "I've got to go, I don't want to be late."

"We're on your side," Hermione said gently. "We don't want you to get hurt, that's all."

"Fine, whatever." Harry stormed out of the room and down to the Defense room, all the while hating himself. He just had to go and fall in love with Snape, didn't he? Then he had to push Snape over and over again until he admitted he hated him, as if it wasn't obvious enough. Snape had spent the entirety of Harry's life looking out for him and it meant absolutely nothing to him.

How could he have let himself fall for him in the first place? Really, of all people. It hadn't been slowly realizing his feelings over the course of several years like with Ginny, or always having an eye on Cho and not realizing he fancied her beyond her looks right away. It was like a switch had been turned on: one minute he hated Snape, and the next he was dying and Harry was in love with him. He supposed this probably meant he'd felt something for a long time and had pushed it away, but Harry wasn't interested in exploring that possibility, and so stuck with the on-off switch.

He'd visited Snape in St. Mungo's over the summer, not even Ron and Hermione knew that. Snape didn't know, either. Harry only visited until Snape woke up nearly a month after the attack. He started off by just poking his head in, then standing by his bed for a few minutes, but then his feet started to get tired so he'd sit, and as long as he was sitting he could stay for a while, so he'd done that, and then there was the day he stopped by after a trip to Diagon Alley and he'd had a book, and a tradition had been born. He'd bring a book and sit and read for a while. Sometimes a while was a few minutes, and sometimes, if the book was particularly good, it ended up being hours.

The day Snape had woken up Harry nearly gave himself away. He'd walked into his room like usual, going through his bag and not looking up. Suddenly Snape's voice floated out from behind the curtain—croaky and scratchy, but ill-tempered and irritable as always. He was speaking to Healer Davis, the man in charge of his case. Harry had gotten to know him, and a few others, quite well over the past month, and he stayed hidden behind the curtain, listening to the conversation.

"—had the anti-venom with you."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Snape rasped testily. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A little less than a month," Healer Davis replied. "You've made remarkable progress. That you've woken up already is a spectacular sign."

Silence for a moment. "Of all the things I feel, spectacular is nowhere on the list."

"That's to be expected," Healer Davis said. "You have quite a ways to go before you're completely cured. But you will make a full recovery, don't worry."

More silence. "Hand me my chart."

Harry couldn't suppress a smile. How very Snape.

"I can tell you anything you need to know," Healer Davis replied. "What are you looking for?"

"My chart, I told you," Snape said irritably, then broke into a coughing fit. Merlin, he sounded awful, and Healer Davis quickly cast several spells.

"Rest," he said firmly. "Especially your voice. Drink this, and I'll be back to check on you in a few hours."

Healer Davis stepped around the curtain and opened his mouth to greet Harry, who shook his head and darted out of the room.

"Don't tell him I'm here," Harry said once they were out of earshot. "Or that I was ever here. He wouldn't understand. Please, promise me."

Healer Davis raised an eyebrow. "I'd think he'd be happy to have a visitor, especially one as devoted as you."

Harry flushed. "Er, no, he wouldn't. I've got to go. I'll, um, owl, to check in. See you."

He escaped without further incident. He did owl, a few times. Specifically to Healer Davis, never to Snape. Once he'd ascertained Snape was, in fact, stable and not about to die, he'd stopped. He never intended to visit so regularly and now that he had the chance to look back on it, he was hugely embarrassed, regardless of whether Snape found out. Which he absolutely was not going to.

He'd only gotten one letter from Healer Davis that wasn't in response. A week before Hogwarts started he'd owled to let Harry know Snape would be returning to teach. Harry didn't know exactly what to make of it. Was he just being polite and assuming Harry wanted to be updated on Snape's condition? Surely Snape hadn't asked him to let Harry know. However it happened, Harry had thanked Healer Davis for letting him know, and realized when he walked into the Great Hall for his eighth year he was very glad he knew, otherwise he might have had a heart attack. Snape looked the same as always, and Harry's heart had clenched.

Being in love. Bloody hell it was awful.

But now he was here for detention and that was it. It had nothing to do with anything other than the essay he'd turned in and the conversation that followed in which Harry had behaved like a total arse.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

6

"Enter."

Harry opened the door and walked in. Snape was behind his desk grading papers, which Harry didn't understand in the slightest. Exams were tomorrow, followed by holiday break; how could he still have homework to pass out?

"Sit."

Harry sat in the first row, in the seat with a piece of parchment and quill in front of it. His eyes drifted to Snape's cuffs and he quickly averted them. "Er, what should I be doing?"

"Redo your paper," Snape replied. His voice was still a little raspy, just a touch lower than it had been. Harry refused to admit it, but it may have been just the slightest bit attractive. "If you want a fair grade, so be it. Hand in whatever you feel is appropriate. You have two hours."

Harry couldn't complain, not really. This is what he'd wanted, right? To be taken seriously? He thought it entirely possibly Snape was only doing this because he thought it the easiest way to get him to shut up, but it was better than nothing. Maybe.

He picked up the quill and contemplated the parchment. What, exactly, did he think was appropriate? Nothing, that was the answer. He could write his essay properly, that was an easy answer. It kind of defeated the point of getting Snape's attention, though. He could rewrite the same thing he'd submitted in the first place, but he'd already done that and it hadn't provoked a reaction, not really. Antagonizing Snape afterwards had, but even then only barely. Was that the answer, then? Write something he knew would make Snape angry? He didn't even know what that was anymore.

…actually. Actually maybe he did.

Harry wrote four sentences, hesitated, and added a fifth. He rolled the parchment up, walked over to Snape's desk and set it down. Snape didn't look up. Harry hadn't expected him to. He went back to his seat. He found his eyes wandering towards Snape's cuffs again and forced them away.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Snape asked, eyes still on his grading. "You have turned in the assignment. Leave."

"I have over and hour and a half of detention left," Harry replied.

"You are excused."

Harry stayed where he was. He wasn't getting up until Snape read his paper and Harry had his answer. It was stupid, it was a resounding no, Snape didn't care at all, but he was a Gryffindor, and he needed to see out his stubbornness to the end. He didn't know why anything would have changed since this afternoon, but maybe. Maybe writing what he wrote would do something. Probably not, but maybe.

"Potter. Get out."

"Read my paper," Harry replied.

"My attention is otherwise occupied," Snape said. "I see no reason to drop everything and attend to you."

Harry had to stop himself from shivering. Why did Snape have to phrase it like that? "I think you might be interested."

"Nothing you do could possibly interest me Potter," Snape replied, sounding bored. "In fact, I believe we had this very conversation once today already. Why do you insist on wasting my time?"

"Professor, I believe you're wasting mine," Harry said bravely. Rashly, more like. At least Snape finally looked at him.

"Excuse me?"

"I told you, I'm not leaving until you see what I have to say," Harry continued. "So you're the one keeping me here."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Fine." Under his breath he added, "Insufferable brat," just loudly enough Harry could hear him. Harry stayed still, forcing himself not to fidget as Snape unrolled the parchment and read it over. His face remained impassive. "What about this do you think might interest me?"

Harry felt his temper starting to rise. "I'm not my parents."

"Unless you have become extraordinarily gifted in Transfiguration, I had come to that conclusion on my own," Snape replied dryly. "You need not commit it to writing."

"Then what?" Harry demanded. "What have I ever done to you?"

"Your existence is reason enough," Snape said. "I'm terribly sorry if I don't fawn over you like the rest of your adoring fans."

"I don't want you to fawn over me, bloody hell," Harry snapped. "I want you to tell me why you've been avoiding me all year, and don't give me some bullshit about not having the energy. Making my life hell gives you energy."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You want me to go back to torturing you?" he asked. "And watch your mouth if you don't want to spend the entirety of your holidays serving detention with me."

Harry wouldn't particularly mind that, but he wasn't about to admit it. "I want you to talk to me."

"So you wrote."

"I'm sorry about my dad," Harry said suddenly, changing tactics. "But do you really think my mum would like how you're treating me?"

Snape's eyes blazed. "Potter—"

"If everything you did was for my mum, why the fuck do you treat me like this?" Harry yelled. It wasn't that he was angry, not exactly. He was angry, furious really, but mostly it was six months of built up, one-sided sexual tension bubbling up in the only way he could express himself. "If you felt nothing towards me, you'd just—"

"Ignore you?" Snape filled in icily. "I did what I had to do during the war. Now that it's over I can finally be rid of you. Get over yourself, Potter. I do not care and I am not interested. Get out of my classroom."

Harry's stomach was twisting horribly and his heart was on fire and he wanted to kill something because he was fairly certain if he didn't he was going to burst into tears and he absolutely refused to do that. "That last bit?" Harry asked. "Doesn't mean anything to you?"

"Nothing."

"I was there for a month," Harry exclaimed. "A bloody month, every day."

Finally, finally, something flicked across Snape's face. Only for a second, but it was there. "Your mistake, not mine."

Harry's eyes were burning. He needed to leave, right now, otherwise he was going to break down in front of Snape. "You're a bastard."

Snape stood up suddenly, sending his chair scraping backwards across the floor, hands pressed down against the desk so hard his fingers were turning white. "What is your point, Potter?" he hissed. "Are you intent on making my life as difficult as your father did? You have treated me exactly the same way as I do you. What has gotten into your head that makes you so desperate to examine my motives?"

Harry didn't answer right away, weighing his options. Eventually he just sighed and turned away. "Nothing. You're right, forget it."

"Then get out of my classroom," Snape said. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for each time you swore and two weeks of detention. I should think the explanation obvious."

Harry stared at him. "That's my entire break!"

Snape glanced down and flipped open a small black book. "It appears I have made an error," he said, sounding remarkably lighthearted. "Seventeen days of detention, one for each day of holidays, weekends included."

"You can't do that!" Harry yelled.

"I most certainly can," Snape replied. "I even gave you the common courtesy of warning you in advance. For the fifth time, do yourself a favor and leave while you can. Rest assured I will not be so inclined to let you leave early for the next two and a half weeks."

Harry was at the door when Snape spoke again.

"I suggest you seriously reconsider your attitude, Potter," Snape added. "I do not know what prompted this sudden outburst, but I highly recommend you pull yourself together."

"I'll consider it," Harry stated dully, opening the door and leaving. He made it up a single flight of stairs before breaking off and hurrying down the nearest hallway. Just before it forked off there was an alcove containing a suit of armor. Harry pushed past it, tucked himself into the space between the armor and the wall, and started shaking uncontrollably. He leaned his forehead on his knees, running over exactly what he had done, trying desperately to convince himself it had all been a dream, or someone had slipped him an inhibition reducing potion or maybe that he could Obliviate Snape without anyone noticing.

The essay was bad enough. I'm not my dad. I'm not my mum. I don't care if you want to talk about it or not, I can't forget what I saw. If you ever cared even in the slightest, talk to me. I sat with you in the hospital.

What he'd said after was just. He had. Explicitly done. Merlin's beard what had he done? How did he think this would help his cause in the slightest? Even if antagonizing Snape was the only way to get his attention, that was not the kind of attention he was looking for. This was—was—

He hated himself for it, but he was crying. Not a lot, thankfully no hysterics, but definitely tears. He still couldn't stop shaking. He was stuck in detention alone with Snape every night for seventeen days. He'd gotten Gryffindor docked eighty points.

Harry decided he was going to spend the rest of his life in the alcove.

7

Harry thought he might feel better once he heard, over and over again, that Snape wasn't interested, that he couldn't even be bothered to hate him. He had been wrong. He went to bed early, moving through the common room as quickly as he could, ignoring Hermione's concerned questions. Ron came up a few minutes later and told him that no one was angry at him for losing so many points; everyone figured it was coming given how he had been ignoring Harry. The dam was bound to break sometime. Mostly people were wondering what Snape had done to cause Harry to cry. Apparently his eyes had been puffy enough that everyone noticed.

"Harry, talk to me," Ron implored, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I don't understand why you feel the way you do, but I'm done making fun of you, at least for now. Tell me what happened."

"Nothing," Harry said blankly. "He let me redo my essay. I wrote the same sort of bollocks I had earlier. I provoked him again. We got into a fight. That's all."

"I'm not daft, Harry," Ron replied. "I might not be Hermione, but I can tell something's wrong. You fight with Snape all the time. This is different."

Harry sighed dramatically. "Detention for seventeen days, all through break."

Ron winced. "That's harsh, mate. But that's not all. Don't tell me you confessed your love to him and he turned you down."

"No," Harry said irritably. "It was the same bollocks we talked about earlier that got me detention in the first place. He doesn't give a shit about me."

Ron considered. "If he doesn't care about you, why the eighty points and detentions?"

"To get me to leave him alone," Harry replied. "Would you leave? I need to sleep. Exams tomorrow morning and detention tomorrow night."

"Yeah, sure. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

Harry fell asleep thinking about soft white cuffs. Detentions or exams would've been better.

8

Exams went well, roughly speaking. They also went all day; nonstop from breakfast to lunch, again from lunch to dinner, and two more after dinner. It was almost nine before Harry was released from History of Magic and he sprinted up to Snape's office, bursting in without knocking.

"Sorry I'm late," he panted. "Exams—"

"Stop talking," Snape interrupted. "You will stay for two hours regardless, and an additional twenty points for being out after curfew."

Harry stared at him. "It's not even nine," he said. "Curfew isn't until eleven."

"There are two minutes until nine," Snape replied. "You will be leaving here at two minutes to eleven. I would be highly surprised if you could reach Gryffindor Tower in two minutes."

Harry squeezed his eyes closed in an attempt to calm himself. When he opened them he found himself staring at Snape's cuffs again. This was fucking ridiculous. "Fine," he said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Madame Pomfrey requires her stock of Pepperup to be replenished," Snape said. "The cauldron and ingredients are to your left. Do you require instructions?"

"No," Harry answered quietly. He was done fighting and just wanted this to be as quick and painless as possible. He went over to the desk and started preparing the ingredients as the cauldron heated up. He got through the bicorn horn and Mandrake root with no trouble, but the salamander blood stopped him. There wasn't any in Pepperup. Right? He ran through the preparation, trying to remember what he forgot. Was this a test? Or was he being daft? Both seemed equally likely.

"Sir?" Harry asked quietly.

"What is it?" Snape droned.

"Salamander blood?" he said.

"What about it?"

"I don't—er, what do I do with it?"

Snape sighed heavily. "I thought you knew what you were doing."

Harry flushed. "It's been a while." The sound of a quill scratching, and then a piece of parchment flew over to him.

"Presumably you know how to turn on a cauldron and stir?" Snape asked bitingly.

"Yes," Harry said through gritted teeth. He followed Snape's instructions with no issue and poured the potion into a flask. Forty-five minutes had passed. "Professor, I finished."

"Another batch."

Harry sighed quietly and got to work. Busywork. Better than scrubbing cauldrons, yes, but if he was going to be doing this for two and a half weeks straight he thought he might go insane.

Forty-five minutes later he had a second completed potion and half an hour left of detention. He quickly debated with himself and decided to start on another draught even though he didn't have enough time left to finish. He'd stay for an extra fifteen minutes and, hopefully, get back on Snape's good side. It was probably a lost cause, but he might as well try.

Snape spoke at exactly two of eleven. "Clean up the station and you may leave. I expect you to be on time tomorrow. No excuses."

"I'd like to stay for another fifteen minutes, if that's okay," Harry said. "I started on a third batch and it's not ready yet."

"You realize this will not reduce tomorrow's detention by fifteen minutes," Snape warned.

"I know."

A moment of silence. "Very well. Continue."

Harry finished the potion in silence. He cleaned up and set the three flasks on Snape's desk. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Do not think an extra flask makes up for what you said," Snape replied. "You lost any chance of falling into my favor last night."

Harry's stomach twisted. He wasn't a fan of how often that seemed to be happening these days. "I know," he repeated.

"Go."

Harry left, sneaking one last pathetic glance at his cuffs.