Author's Note: Thank you all for reading this story and supporting it till the end! However, it is here that our story finally comes to a close.

Naturally, when Snape had first spotted Harry filing through the gates of Hogwarts with a bloody nose, he was more than a tad stunned. He sent the boy a sharp look, squinting slightly to get a better look at his form as he meandered his way through the school's doors—already late for the first portion of the start of term celebration. The sorting of the first years had long since passed and the feast had begun shortly after.

Hoping he'd still be able to snag a bite to eat before the time to turn in swung around, Harry rushed to the Great Hall, oblivious to Snape's presence as the man trailed behind him. A pale hand caught him by the collar of his shirt before he could go any further, sending the teenager's arms off into a wind-mill like motion as he tried to keep from tumbling over.

Regaining his balance, he swiveled around and finally recognized Snape, who had at some point summoned a hand towel, soaked in cold water, and promptly pressed it against his nose, looking stern.

"What scrape with danger have you gotten yourself into this time, Potter? You look at though you've faced the repercussions of a poor encounter with a hippogriff," Snape remarked in what he hoped sounded like an indifferent tone of voice. "Not so heroic now, are we?"

Harry grumbled a few unintelligible words under his breath and shot Snape a cold look. "You're one to talk. You've no right to question me after you deserted me at Grimmauld Place, leaving Dumbledore to ship me away elsewhere."

Snape sneered, a fraction of him offended at being spoken to in such a haughty manner. "I had responsibilities to attend to. My apologies if you were under the impression that my sole purpose in the Order was to cater to your every whim."

Harry glowered, voice muffled and nasally as he kept a constant pressure on his battered nose. "That's not what I meant. I get that there were things that had to be done, but you could've at least said that you wouldn't be coming back. A proper goodbye should've been in order."

"Excuse me for not indulging in senseless formalities. It had escaped my mind that you were the sentimental type," Snape muttered with a fresh scowl. "However, the question still remains, who was your attacker? Or rather, did you instigate a skirmish by yourself?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, pulling away the towel from his sore nose. "Your star student was just greeting me," he murmured sarcastically. "I saw you talking to Malfoy earlier. What's been going on with him?"

"I don't think that's any of your concern," Snape replied in a clipped tone, keeping up his apathetic demeanor. "Though I see that someone did a rather mediocre job of mending your broken cartilage."

Harry groaned, fingers sliding up to carefully prod the offending body part. "I should've known not to trust Luna when she said it looked fine."

"Hold still," Snape said firmly, taking out his wand and pointing it at Harry's face. "I need to break it so that I can mend it properly."

"What?!" Harry exclaimed, more than a bit panicked, but before he could slither away from the reach of Snape's wand, he felt an explosion of pain course through his nose as it was snapped. A second later, the pain receded as it was fixed back to its original state.

He gasped in surprise, cautiously inspecting Snape's work by running his fingers over the bridge of his nose, slightly sweating and trembling from the previous moment of throbbing pain.

"It'll be sore for a few hours, but there's nothing that can be done about that," Snape informed as he gave his work a scrutinizing look and stowed his wand, robes billowing as he did so.

"My face has been through a lot during this past month," Harry noted dryly, catching the flicker of a smirk on Snape's face. "Well, I better get to the feast…"

Snape watched the teen turn around, green eyes disappearing from his view as he began to retreat. With a deep inhale of breath, Snape hesitantly stretched out his arm again, stopping Harry from departing once more. "Not so fast."

He really wanted to hate the boy before him. He would've traded anything in the world for some reprieve from this sudden soft spot that had seemed to embed itself in his gut. The sentimentality of it all should've been lost and easily brushed off by him, but it seemed that he was—once again—not in his right mind.

"Yes, sir?"

He was going to berate himself for this later, but…

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken off in the way that I did," he murmured, forcing the words out of his throat as they demanded to be smothered by silence instead.

Harry straightened himself and tensed, unsure of how to react to Snape's words. Until recently, he'd always perceived the man as a crotchety teacher whose only desire seemed to be to take out his repressed aggression on his students.

But apparently, there was more to the irritable professor than met the eye.

"Thanks," he finally sighed, breaking the awkward atmosphere that hung gloomily around them. "Thanks for everything."

Snape seemed to be caught in between grimacing and scowling, but then changed his mind and bowed his head morosely, surrendering to the necessity of presenting the gesture. He then walked in front of Harry, pushing open the door to the Great Hall and slipping inside, leaving Harry standing outside of the din.

And the young wizard finally acknowledged that the pair had progressed to a level of mutual feelings of understanding that exhibited that they were no longer sworn enemies.

In a rush of emotion that Harry couldn't quite explain, he soon realized that he was relieved.

They were both freed of the hatred that they had been clinging to.

So, Harry strode into the Great Hall—his steps feeling just a bit lighter than they'd been before.

"Would you stop that incessant knocking? I can bloody well hear you from a kilometer away!"

Another series of bangs followed the first, the wooden door to Snape's chambers rattling on its hinges from the attention. The former Potions Master swung open the barrier dividing him from the stubborn visitor, fully intending to give the person an earful of a lecture to set his nettled nerves at ease.

Needless to say, he hadn't expected to see the spring-green eyes that blinked back at him, brimming with restlessness.

"Potter? What on earth do you think you're doing, assaulting my door at this hour?"

Said student's troubled expression suddenly turned solemn as he met Snape's calculating watch, shrinking back just a few centimeters. "Sorry, I guess I wasn't thinking straight. I just had a lot on my mind and needed to tell someone about—"

"Oh, so I'm your personal psychotherapist now? Well, excuse me, but I haven't got the time to listen to adolescent melodrama at the moment. I'm quite busy, so if you'll please escort yourself out of my doorway, that'd be simply delightful," Snape growled peevishly, already shutting the heavy door.

Harry desperately tried to pry the door open, clawing at the mahogany wood. "I can't sleep! You must have some sort of potion!"

Relenting in his battle to lock the door, Snape swung it back open and peered at Harry with his usual sharp gaze, seemingly turning over various scenarios in his mind. "Though you may be dim-witted, I thought that by now even you would realize that I am no longer this school's Potions Master. Therefore, kindly remove yourself from the premises, seeing as I shan't be medicating anyone tonight."

A despairing look latching itself onto his face, Harry used his best doe-like eyes to sway the professor into changing his mind. "Please, this is the second night that I can't get a minute of sleep."

Sighing incredulously, Snape stepped aside, allowing the teen to saunter inside. Harry took in the details of the room, frowning a little when he noticed the boxes that were scattered around Snape's living area, untouched. It'd been weeks since the start of the school year, so surely that would've been enough time for Snape to settle in.

"Why haven't you unpacked?" he queried, feeling a little out of place in Snape's personal quarters. It was strange to finally witness where the man retreated to after classes.

Snape went to make some tea, movements weary as he migrated over to the small kitchen area. "You're always full of questions, aren't you?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders, seating his pajama-clad self in one of Snape's armchairs in the living room. "I wouldn't have to ask so many questions if you'd just answer half of them."

Taking a seat across from Harry as the water boiled, Snape narrowed his eyes at his student, not nearly coming off as intimidating as he once had. "If you must know, I simply haven't acclimated to these new chambers. I'd spent so much time in the dungeons since I'd begun teaching here that I can't adapt to this new space. Not to mention, the new office in my classroom, which is far too elaborate for my tastes."

"You don't seem like the type of person who would enjoy change," Harry acknowledged, stifling a yawn.

"Am I supposed to take offense to that?"

Harry shook his head swiftly in response. "No, it's not a bad thing. I guess it's okay to want to preserve some things once in a while."

Snape scoffed, summoning the tea kettle and pouring a cup of tea for each of them. "Alright, since you're in a philosophic mood at the moment, would you care to explain what is causing this sudden insomnia that you've acquired? I have every right to grant you two weeks of detention for being out of bed at such an ungodly hour."

Harry graciously accepted the tea, taking a tiny sip. "Lots of little things I guess. Dumbledore's been asking me to do some things for him and—"

"Ah, the truth finally comes out," Snape harrumphed rubbing a hand over his tired face. "I had a sneaking suspicion that the headmaster was behind this in some form or another. What has he assigned you to do this time?"

Harry rolled his eyes, dipping his head in thought. "I can't exactly talk about it, but that's not the point… That's not the only thing I've been thinking about. There's also the fact that Malfoy has been acting like more of a prat than usual, except now he's skulking about all day. I wanted to ask you about him, since you would probably know… Is he a Death Eater?"

Stiffening, Snape swallowed down the steaming tea to stall as he tried to think of how to reply to the boy. "You should really keep your nose out of other people's business."

"I've seen you talking to him a lot lately, and there must be a reason for it. You don't normally talk to students willingly or without some sort of motive," Harry discerned vigilantly.

"Am I detecting a hint of jealously here? Are you merely searching for attention again, Potter?" Snape asked with an antagonizing smirk, setting his teacup down on the coffee table.

Harry bristled, objecting at once to the accusation. "You know that's not my reason! I just thought I'd come and talk to you about it because…"

"Because what? Cat got your tongue already?" Snape continued to tease.

"Because I knew you'd listen," Harry finished seriously, fiddling with the sleeve of his nightshirt. "You might deny it all you want, but we've been talking for over a month now, so you've got to admit that you don't hate me anymore. You let me into your quarters because you're not as heartless as you wish you were. Besides, you were friends with my mum, and that's got to still mean something to you."

Snape drew in a long breath, standing up and shuffling through a few cabinets before returning with a small vial and passing it to Harry. How had he gotten himself into this mess again?

Alas, in retrospect it was Dumbledore's initial doing.

"Drink the potion; you'll be out in a minute. Hopefully, after you adjust to a normal sleeping rhythm again, you won't need it," Snape explained lowly, watching as Harry warily sniffed the contents and chugged down the foul substance.

"I better get back to the dormitory."

Snape stopped Harry before he could make it to the door. He should've gladly allowed the boy to leave and collapse on the stairs in a sleepy daze, but one look into those bleary green eyes and he couldn't bring himself to live with the guilt. "I'm afraid there's no time for that. Looks like you'll be spending the night on the futon in the corner over there."

Guiding the teen over to the makeshift bed, Snape summoned a worn blanket and threw it over the boy. He hoped Lily was watching in some supernatural way, absolving him of his repayment for his past indecent treatment toward the child.

He had gotten too close; dug too deep, and now he had to face the consequences. There was no way that he'd be getting Harry Potter out of his hair anytime soon. He was going to be stuck with him for quite some time, especially now that he had labeled Snape as his go-to person for discussing his problems and insecurities.

When had he allowed himself to become Potter's adviser? And why in the world was Potter suddenly making conscious decisions to visit him?

Well, this just wouldn't do. He'd have to arrange a few detentions for the boy to set him straight and to reenergize the ill feelings that Harry had once felt towards him with such feverishness. However, before he could continue with his elaborate plan to keep Harry at bay for at least a few months, the boy's eyes sluggishly blinked open, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, reaching up to pull his glasses off and store them on the side-table while he slept.

Snape's throat constricted as his entire body tensed upon hearing the singular word. "Sleep, Potter, and don't plan on making a habit out of this nonsense."

Harry smirked, already dozing off as Snape swore under his breath and made his way out of the room, stealing one last glance at the Boy Who Lived.

Soon, he'd be as old and soft-hearted as Dumbledore.

Snape shuddered at the thought.

"Well, I certainly hope you've learned your lesson."

Harry scowled, scrubbing the floor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom without magic. Now that he had time to mull it over, he supposed he would've been better off just setting aside the two hours necessary to complete the assignment that Snape had given his class. It would've been a whole lot better than the sore arms and back that he was going to have in the morning from scrubbing down the entire classroom during detention.

"I want that floor to be spotless by the time you're done, and the next time I assign an essay, I expect you to make it a priority of yours to complete it on time," Snape lectured from his desk, marking a pile of recent test papers.

Harry rolled his shoulders to ease their aching, begging time to pass more quickly. "Yes, sir."

Snape scribbled a mark on the top of a paper and shifted to the next one. "I expect to see the essay on my desk by next class or I won't hesitate to simply not give you any credit for it. You've already lost a tenth of your final mark due to it being late. I won't put up with your ridiculous excuses any longer."

"But there was a Quidditch match and—"

"Have I not made myself clear?"

"Sorry," Harry grumbled in surrender, wiping some beads of sweat off of his forehead as he wrung out another sponge and got back to work. Quidditch took up a lot of his normally allotted study-time, but he'd be lying if he'd claimed that he couldn't spare a single hour for the essay. He could've put in the effort and gotten it taken care of, so he supposed he deserved the ruthless detention that he'd been dished out. At least it wasn't as bad as cleaning out dirty cauldrons. Now that Snape's teaching position had changed, so had the quality of the detentions.

"And I assure you, that understanding how to properly resist the effects of the Imperius Curse will be of much more value to you than the outcome of a silly game of Quidditch. It is imperative that this information is drilled into your thick skull, Potter," Snape reasoned logically.

Harry was loath to admit it, but he understood that Snape had presented a good point. The man knew just how to make him feel guilty for not taking advantage of the knowledge being offered to him. Although there was a multitude of things that he would forget having learned after leaving Hogwarts, it was safe to assume that there would be a lot that he would carry with him as well. Even though it felt as though Snape was just trying to torture his class with grueling and tedious homework assignments, he knew that wasn't entirely the case.

It was just easier to assume that Snape hated them all rather than admit that the class would be beneficial to them in the future.

Harry sighed, rubbing a fatigued hand over his face as he moved on to cleaning out the desks. "You know, after learning Expelliarmus from watching you duel Lockhart in my second year, I've managed to save my neck loads of times."

"I'll take that as a show of appreciation for all of the stress I must undergo each day to ensure that you and the rest of those dunderheads in your class can manage to somewhat defend themselves, and survive in the real world," Snape droned as he dipped his quill in more ink absently.

Harry rolled his eyes and threw the sponge down on one of the desk's tops. "Is my time up yet?"

Without even sparing a moment to glance at his watch, Snape shook his head and continued to furiously correct another terribly written test paper. "No, get back to work."

"But I'm already exhausted."

Snape's eyes bored into Harry's for a few seconds. "Good, that's the point of the punishment; it means you're learning from your mistakes. A wonderfully satisfactory feeling, isn't it?"

"No," Harry spat in return, picking up the sponge again.

"Well, I'm certainly satisfied with the outcome," Snape teased, openly pleased. "By the way, you might like to know that Dumbledore has been asking to see you."

Harry immediately brightened up, hoping that his chance for alleviation had finally arrived.

"But that doesn't mean you can just neglect this detention to speak with him. He's well aware that you're occupied with writing my essay later tonight. You can speak with him after you've dealt with your other responsibilities."

Harry groaned, chiding himself for getting too excited when he should've known better. Snape always enjoyed raining on everyone's parade, but after their meetings together had grown more frequent and their relationship less hostile, Harry had somehow learned to not take everything the man said and did as a personal attack.

Going back to scraping the gum from under the desk that he was disinfecting, Harry suddenly remembered something vital that he needed to talk about with the professor, ceasing his attack on the gum for a moment.

"The winter holidays are coming up soon," he began smoothly, trying to act as natural and mature as possible. "Are you staying in the castle?"

Still preoccupied with grading, Snape absent-mindedly drew out a response. "Unfortunately."

"Right, so I was wondering if I could stop by every once in a while instead of sitting in the dormitory all day…" Harry trailed off, sounding a bit too longing for his liking.

Snape finally put down his quill, regarding Harry with his full attention, black eyes meeting the green just as they had so many times in the past. "Potter, you already pester me on a daily basis like the brat you are. Soon enough you'll be asking me to take you away from those Muggles that you're staying with."

Harry frowned, but then contemplated the answer thoughtfully. "You could do that?"

"Of course not. Your aunt and uncle's residence has protective charms. You'll have to remain there until you're of age."

"Oh."

"Oh, is right, Potter," Snape drawled, tidying up the documents on his desk before adding on sarcastically, "I'm sure Petunia is ecstatic to have another wizard in the household."

Harry stumbled as he finally detached that stubborn wad of gum from its hiding place, glancing back at Snape with a surprised expression. "You know my Aunt Petunia?"

Snape snorted with a derisive smirk on his face. "Of course I do. She always despised the magical world simply because she couldn't be a part of it. Your mother tried to mend their relationship. Needless to say, her efforts were futile."

"It explains why she's always trying to live an 'ordinary' life," Harry provided.

Snape seemed to struggle with the urge to continue the conversation, eventually opting to revert back to the original subject. "Regardless, I'm growing tired of your frequent presence, Potter. Though I suppose you'll come to 'visit' me even if I refuse to permit you to do so."

Harry nodded smugly. "Thought I might as well make an attempt at getting you to agree."

"What you need to understand is that there are many things which I must do this term, Potter." Snape began seriously. "And I feel as though it would be for the best if you focused on your studies and completing assignments on time rather than getting involved in my personal matters."

Harry huffed, plopping the sponge into the accompanying bucket of water. "You can't try to just get rid of me now."

Snape shut his eyes, resting his head in his hands. "I know, but it was worth a try," he murmured despairingly. "As long as you don't interrupt my work ethic I suppose it wouldn't be an—"

Harry grinned widely, abandoning his cleaning as he allowed himself to take pride in the small victory that he had just achieved. He was going to drag Snape to the Christmas feast and to Hogsmeade. He'd get the man to loosen up for once after all they had been through.

Sensing that Harry was conjuring up wild scenarios with the help of his imagination, Snape knew that he'd have to swiftly put the action to a stop. "Your time is up, Potter. Gather your belongings and get out of my sight."

Still grinning blissfully, Harry picked up his schoolbag and returned the bucket and sponge to Snape for him to store.

"Goodnight, sir," he said lightheartedly, already heading for the door.

Mustering up some patience, Snape nodded stiffly. "Goodnight."

He watched as the boy left the classroom, relishing in the sudden silence that engulfed the room. Then, when he was sure the boy was out of sight and making his way back to the Gryffindor common room, he allowed himself a small smile.

Turning his head up toward the ceiling, he muttered, "Why must he be so much like you, Lily?"

And he could've sworn he heard a bubbly little laugh rise up from somewhere behind him.

Harry's avid imagination must've been rubbing off on him.

Fin.