Disclaimer: Definitely not.

Author's Note: Thank you so much for the lovely reviews. I'm glad that most of you enjoyed the chapter between Harry and Snape. I always enjoy writing those two interacting - they're often such an explosive combination, aren't they? As for how abusive Snape can be, that's very true. Believe me, I can't stand the way he treats Harry either, but I have to write him being true to his character. This won't mean that things won't change - we've already seen glimpses of it in several chapters. It's just going to take a while for Snape to break through the shield of ice he's created around his heart, and the hatred he feels for James that blinds him to who Harry really is.

I, too, cut Harry slack about the Philosopher's Stone - I'm just writing the situation as Snape sees it. Harry, Ron, and Hermione did do the best they could with the information they had at the time. Plus, the first book is a children's book, and adults not knowing what's going on and children saving the day is a common trope. I think Rowling did it very well, and I'll never forget reading that book when I myself was a child. I think I was about thirteen when I read Philosopher's Stone. It's only now, being an adult, that I see a different perspective in that book, especially because the series matured to when the children were seventeen and eighteen.

I'm also glad you like the turn I'm taking with Harry's mental health. Yes, he deals much better with curses. Poison is much, much harder, since he can't defend himself like he would against a spell. And since his recovery is taking so long, it's only adding to the negative emotions he feels.

On another note, thank you so much for congratulating me on the wedding. One of my reviewers told me that their own wedding day was yesterday! That's awesome, congratulations! I hope yours was as wonderful as mine was.

And Yellow 14, I know I already said this in a PM, but I still can't believe you wrote my husband a Scooby Doo fanfic! That's truly amazing of you! He loves that fandom so much, and he is incredibly grateful that you did such a thing as a wedding gift. Thanks again!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

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Severus Snape was shaking. As he walked away from the hospital wing, he could feel the heat of anger practically oozing from his body. There had been plenty of times in his life when he had been so full of rage that he felt he could barely breathe, and this was one of them.

Potter. How dare Potter! How dare he demand his attention the way he had! Wasn't it enough that Snape had saved his life? Wasn't it enough that he'd devoted his time, his attention, his entire focus, to that child's welfare? What the hell else did the stupid boy want from him? He should have been perfectly happy spending time with his inane little friends. What could he ever receive from Snape that would do him any good?

The boy's pure nerve knew no bounds. He was also about as subtle as a sledgehammer. The boy didn't think before bringing up things best left forgotten. He should have known, though, shouldn't he? He should have known that Potter would come right out and demand to know about his Death Eater past. It was exactly the kind of thing he expected from Potter, and he had certainly delivered.

Well, the boy had gotten a shock of his own, hadn't he? It was about time someone told him the truth about the damned stone. Snape would never forget the rage he felt at that Leaving Feast when Dumbledore had snatched Slytherin's victory from them in an extremely deliberate fashion. As anger had continued to pulse through his veins for the entirety of that evening, he marveled at how completely ignorant Dumbledore had been. What, exactly, had the man been trying to achieve by pulling such a stunt? The flashbacks to his own school days had literally rooted him to the spot as he saw the expressions on the faces of his students. Some of the first-years had been battling tears - he could see that they were doing their level best to control themselves. It was the facial expressions of the older ones, however, that made him feel true, pure fury. It was the total resignation, the knowledge that this was no surprise to them, the utter understanding that they could expect nothing less from Dumbledore, that made the rage almost explode out of him like one of Longbottom's cauldrons.

Was Dumbledore trying to give the Dark Lord some brand new supporters when he returned, just so that there would be more people to fight when the time came? The Headmaster could then step in, brand himself as the hero, and make some oh-so-important speech about how the houses must unite. Those damned eyes of his would twinkle, he could smile one of those misleading smiles, and he could lead everyone to believe that everything was going to be okay. He'd say, in that gentle, convincing way he possessed, that everyone mattered to him and that no house was above another.

But Snape knew differently. There were times, after he'd woken up from another nightmare of seeing Lily's horrifically lifeless eyes, when he was positive that he hated Albus Dumbledore more than he did the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord had been the one who had ripped Lily's spirit from her body, who had broken his word to Severus that he would spare her. But Dumbledore - Dumbledore was the one who had promised to keep the Potters safe, and had failed to do so. Dumbledore was the one who had manipulated Severus- twisting his love for Lily and using it against him, to achieve his own ends. On a night when Severus had come to him, broken and shattered and wanting nothing more than to rip out his own heart and leave his innards all over the floor, Dumbledore had told Severus that he could make something of his life, that he could atone for his mistakes and show the world that he was a better person. Severus knew that this wasn't true - he had given up any semblance of humanity long ago, at the precise moment when he'd willingly allowed the Dark Mark to be branded onto his forearm. And the worst thing of all was, Dumbledore had tried to make him believe that maybe, just maybe, when he finally walked beside Lily once more, she would grant him her forgiveness.

And there were times like that Leaving Feast when he was sure that none of it would ever matter. He could give his blood, sweat, and tears for the cause, but in the end, mongrels like Sirius Black would always mean more to Dumbledore. Golden Gryffindors like Harry Potter could risk the safety of the entire school, almost getting himself killed in the process while Slytherins like Severus Snape could snatch students from the jaws of a hungry werewolf and still receive hell for his efforts because he'd dared to tell his students what kind of danger they were in.

Snape felt what was left of his heart freezing to ice when he remembered that conversation with Dumbledore only a few days prior, when the old man had tried to tell him that he had not failed Potter. With a snarl, he recalled the wisdom in the man's eyes, that deceptive, gentle tone he'd used when he told him to get to know the boy better, to actually talk to him. To break through the hatred and bitterness and see him for who he really was.

But who was the boy? A reckless, brash, foolhardy idiot who never thought about the consequences of his actions before rushing headfirst into situations that fully-grown adults should be dealing with. So McGonagall had told him to go to bed. Who did the boy think he was to disobey her? And of course he'd thought it was Snape trying to steal the stone. Did he really think he was telling his teacher something he didn't already know? He threw the words at him like they would upset him. Snape had known it for years - he didn't live under a rock, as the ridiculous boy thought. He almost snorted at what little impact those words had had on him. His damnable father had accused him of a lot worse.

But Potter should have done as McGonagall said. He had absolutely no right getting involved, and dragging Weasley and Granger into it. He could have gotten all three of them killed, and for what? To save a stone that didn't need rescuing at all. The Mirror of Erised would have served its purpose, Quirrell would have been dealt with accordingly, and that would have been the end of the matter. But instead, Potter had ended up in a coma which he almost didn't wake up from, Weasley had been concussed, and Granger had shed many tears over the fates of her two ridiculous friends who didn't know when to leave well enough alone.

And then, unbidden, Potter's voice swam into his mind again, those emerald eyes two dark pools of bitterness as he came out of the catatonic state Severus had found him in the night of Crouch's capture. "I don't trust adults. What have they ever done for me?" His dull, dead voice resonated through Snape's thoughts, filling his already-frozen pores with even more ice.

And suddenly, quicker than a bolt of lightning, Snape was catapulted into memory.

xxx

"Professor, I'm not making it up!" A hook-nosed, sallow-skinned, furious eleven-year-old Severus Snape stood in front of his Head of House, Horace Slughorn. They were standing in the man's office, whose walls were decorated with pictures of famous people. Snape hated the very sight of them - their smiles were so fake, so phony, so unreal. He couldn't help but sneer in disdain at the way they all seemed to be staring at him, judging him for being a poor, penniless half-blood with greasy hair and shabby clothes.

"I'm sure you're not, Severus." Slughorn's voice was calm, and still held that air of joviality that had never impressed him. "But I also think that you are taking the situation far too seriously. Those four young Gryffindor boys are acting very foolishly, it is true. But I think you're reading far too much into what they're doing."

Snape's face twisted. "So you think that them ruining my potion isn't a big deal? So you think that them jinxing me whenever they get the opportunity is just fine and dandy?" His voice rose as his temper frayed. "You're seriously not going to do anything about this?"

"Severus, please remain calm." Slughorn looked completely composed, which only served to enrage the boy even more. "I shall speak with them. I am aware that you do not get on with any of them, although I believe that young Remus Lupin is not altogether comfortable with what the others are doing."

"But he still goes along with it!" Snape exclaimed. "Just because he wants to have friends - it's pathetic. And do you really think that talking to them will do any good?" he sneered, not caring that he was speaking to his teacher with a great level of disrespect.

"Severus, you do not have to prove that your potions skills are exemplary," Slughorn said in what Snape knew was a tone meant to placate him, but it did no such thing. "You do know that I awarded you full marks despite what those boys did?"

"I don't care!" Snape fumed, his desperation rising. "I want them to be punished! And do you know that they keep teasing Lily too? Potter keeps wanting her attention, and she doesn't like it!"

Slughorn tried to hide a smile then, and at that moment, Snape felt hatred burn within him. "Ah," said the man in a very knowing fashion. "I was very much like that, in my day. I think James Potter is taking rather a liking to Miss Evans, and doesn't quite know how to show it. I grant you, he's a little young to be making those kinds of advances, but ..."

It was a good thing that Snape was not holding his wand right then, because what he wanted to do to Horace Slughorn went beyond a simple tickling jinx. He turned away from the ignorant, rotund bowl of jelly in front of him and began to storm out of the office.

"Do not fret, Severus." Slughorn's voice somehow found its way to Severus's ringing ears. "I will speak with the boys and make sure they stop bothering you."

xxx

Snape felt his ire rise further as he came out of the memory. What a lot of good that fat lump of lard had done, he thought sarcastically. The bullying had only gotten worse from then on, and Slughorn thought that all he had to do was pepper him with compliments about his skills in class and all would be well. And the implication that ... that James was ... was ... that he wanted Lily in that way ...

Snape wasn't at all ashamed of taking vindictive pleasure in adopting a completely different teaching style when he took over Slughorn's position. He despised teaching, but any speck of pleasure he could take - well, he'd make no bones about taking it. He had no doubt that Slughorn would fawn all over Potter if he was currently in the position. The man liked collecting famous people, after all, and drooling all over them. It was sickening. No wonder he'd loved the Marauders so much, and the way he worshiped Lily - Merlin, could he be any more revolting? The way he tried to ingratiate himself with her - it was nauseating.

But Snape knew there was a reason he had remembered this so suddenly and so vividly, and he couldn't stand what his mind was telling him. That experience with Slughorn, when Snape had been desperate to tell an adult that he had been informed he could trust about the bullying that had dogged him day and night ... it had brought home the harsh reality that even at Hogwarts, he could trust no adult to look out for his best interests. He had already discovered that to be a fact at home - his mother did nothing even when she saw what his father did to him. He'd held onto a very faint glimmer of hope that at Hogwarts, he might have people to turn to.

But he'd been proven wrong, and even more so when the sainted, almighty Dumbledore had basically told him that Remus Lupin's education was worth more than his life. Who cared that Black had tried to kill him? Lupin deserved to graduate from this esteemed institution. Who cared about the triggers that haunted Snape on a daily basis? Who cared that, all throughout his seventh year, Snape had to see Lily and Potter get nauseatingly closer and closer until he finally came upon the most putrid sight of them all - the two teenagers twined around one another, kissing passionately, Lily running her hands through Potter's revolting birds' nest?

Everything was wrong. Snape's life was hell, and the only respite he had was the promise that one day, he would be powerful. One day, he would get the revenge he wanted. One day, he wouldn't be laughed at or picked on anymore. One day soon, he'd be the one laughing while Potter and Black begged for mercy. One day soon, Dumbledore would reap what he sowed.

And now, all these years later, after a lifetime of pain and regret and guilt and bitterness and hate, Harry Potter's face kept swimming into his mind. Potter had turned to him - him, of all people - as his adult of choice. And Snape couldn't bear it. He was not the one Potter should turn to. He was not a good man. He was tainted. He had been, literally, marked by evil itself.

The initial rage he'd felt towards the boy upon leaving the hospital wing had given way to a desperation that clawed inside of him, wishing for nothing more than to be unleashed. He did not want to come to terms with the fact that his bitterness towards the child was hiding something much deeper. He certainly didn't want to acknowledge that the way the boy looked at him hurt worse than any dose of the Dark Lord's Cruciatus Curse. He did not want that foolish, reckless brat to suffer with any notions that there was anything to like about Severus Tobias Snape.

As he approached Minerva McGonagall's office, he called on his anger, a mask he had perfected, to rise up inside him again. He let the thoughts of Potter's insane escapade to save that stupid stone fill him up, never once allowing himself to think about why, exactly, Potter had felt the need to do such a thing. He entered the office without knocking, dearly hoping that Minerva was still awake. He knew his face was like a thundercloud, but did not care in the slightest.

"Severus?" Minerva was indeed still up - she was dressed in her tartan dressing gown that no student wanted to see her in, for, more often than not, it spelled trouble. Severus himself had seen it on several occasions when he, as a student, had been up past curfew.

And she was no more impressed to see him now than she had been in those days. But Severus Snape was an adult now, and was no longer intimidated by the expression that marred her face. "Exactly what is the meaning of this?" she demanded, her Scottish brogue more pronounced due to her annoyance. "Do you not understand the common courtesy of knocking?"

Snape sneered at his colleague. "Why is it such a difficult feat for you to control your Gryffindors, Minerva?" he drawled.

"And who might you be referring to?" Minerva asked, her posture stiff. "Elaborate, please."

Snape spat the name. "Potter." He infused it with as much venom as was humanly possible.

Minerva sighed, the sound plainly stating that she was tired of his constant diatribes about the boy. "What could Harry possibly have done now, Severus? Last I heard, he was still ill in the hospital wing due to being poisoned." There was clear distress in her tone.

"I would suggest, Minerva, that you give him the attention he craves so dearly," Snape snarled. "He is apparently desperate for it. He has obviously not been coddled quite enough for his tastes."

"Precisely what is the reason for this confrontation, Severus?" Minerva was obviously getting angry, her hackles raised. "Did the boy try to speak to you? Is this the reason for your disgusting conduct?" Her nostrils flared. "I do not understand you at all, Severus. I heard that you worked painstakingly to save that child's life. Now you turn around and can't even act like a civilized human being towards him!" She glowered at him, and it was like he was sixteen again, being chastised for casting a nasty hex on James Potter. "Grow up, Severus," she said in a low voice. "I will not tolerate you hurting that child any longer."

"I DID tell an adult! I told Professor McGonagall! She told me to go to bed like a good little boy." Inexplicably, Potter's acidic tones filtered through Snape's mind, the hurt beneath the sarcastic words plainly visible.

"You are no better than I, Minerva, when it comes to hurting that boy." Why Snape said this, he honestly didn't know. "If the Philosopher's Stone is any indication," he hurled the words at her.

Minerva's face drastically paled, and then, suddenly, she softened, all the anger leaving her. "Is this what this is about, Severus?" she asked softly, collapsing into her chair. "Did he ... did he tell you about that?"

"He trusted you." Snape's voice was low and filled with a betrayal he couldn't quite explain.

"I know." Minerva looked completely guilt-stricken. "Do you not think that it pains me to remember it? I did not think he would really do it, Severus. I thought he would listen to me."

The familiar response flew out of Snape's mouth. "And I thought that YOU would remember who sired him," he sneered.

McGonagall's mouth pursed. "Grow up, Severus," she repeated. "This is not about James Potter, and you know it." The anger she had displayed towards him earlier was reignited. "I do not know how this conversation between you and Harry began, and honestly, I do not want to," she snapped. "But if you're telling me that he attempted to speak with you, and you turned him away ..." She looked livid. "How dare you, Severus Snape," she growled, sounding very much like her Animagus form. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must go and visit him. I will attempt to fix the damage you have caused."

Snape snorted. "It's very amusing, to hear you discuss damage I have done. I somehow do not think Potter will be too pleased to see you. Have you cared enough to visit him before now, or is it your Gryffindor self-righteousness that is currently speaking?"

The flush on Minerva McGonagall's face only confirmed Snape's suspicions. With a disgusted sneer, he hissed, "I am not the one Potter should turn to. It should have been you all along. He is one of your sainted Gryffindors. He is your responsibility, not mine."

And as Snape stalked out of McGonagall's office, feeling like this entire confrontation had achieved nothing, he used every Occlumency shield in his arsenal to hide the thought that had wormed its way into his consciousness, like a parasite that had latched itself onto him, entirely unwanted.

Potter is right - I need him to hate me. I need him to think that I'm an awful person, because I am. The things I have done ... I cannot be the one the boy turns to, because I will only let him down.