The world of Harry Potter is not mind and I included portions of Book 1 in this chapter because I love Severus's speech and could not let it be discarded. Hope this pleases everyone, because I am really liking this chapter.

Chapter Six

Harry didn't know why he was there of all places, there waiting outside the Professor Snape's office with his nose chilled from standing in the Dungeons for too long. He was supposed to be heading to breakfast in an hour and the Professor would be too, but there was something wrong, and he didn't know who else to tell. He didn't really know anyone else here besides Ron and the Hermione girl from the train, and they would both be kinda useless at this too. He needed to speak with the Professor.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair and then trying to flatten the straying back from sticking up. What was he thinking, trusting someone with more after already letting go of so many of his secrets? Was he going barmy, why was he all of the sudden feeling so obligated to share his problems with the man? He had tried waiting for three days now, but he just couldn't stop thinking of how helpful the man had been, how comforting, and how safe. Why was he doing this?

"Stupid," he hissed.

It was then the door swung inward and a blur of black robes strode out right into Harry, who fell to the ground with a small oomph as his hands scraped the surface of the stone corridor. He heard a curse from above, pulling his gaze to look up at the dour man. He felt off-kilter and wary to hurt as he saw the man looking down at him from higher than usual, his towering height casting even more of a shadow on him. He shook in his place on the ground before seeing the man's try at a smile and a reached out hand.

Harry's mind and his heart slowed down as the factors and actions came together to a completely different pattern than at the Dursleys, leaving him staring at the hand in front of him. The man snapped his fingers, and Harry took the proffered hand that pulled him so quickly he let out a surprised yelp, much to his own embarrassment.

He caught the Professor looking smugly at him, and Harry flushed to his toes. "Um… Sorry... Sir, I wasn't… I mean," he intertwined his hands behind his back and bowed his head to look at the floor. "I'm sorry, Professor. That was my fault."

The man's whole body turned to him in a curious tilt, pulling Harry to peak up at his face, and he was met with an arched brow. "It is of no consequence, Potter." Harry's mouth floundered. What had happened to Harry? "No harm came to yourself, correct?"

Harry nodded, and the man made a relieved nod back. "Very well, what brought you so early down to my office on this fine Wednesday morning, Mr. Potter?"

Harry flushed and looked down at his torn sneakers he had put on by mistake this morning. He scuffed the toe against the stone floor and used the other to toe at the holes in the stitching. He wanted to have help from the Professor, but he was losing his bravery as he stood there. He hoped he wasn't being a baby bringing it to the man, because he really never wanted to waste the man's time.

He untwined his hands when the Professor tapped them lightly with his own hand, and that one action reminded him how the man could be if only he let him. Harry looked up to see the stern gaze and nodded. He needed the man's help.

Yesterday and the day before had been weird, and he needed help to get through the problems, and he had only met one nice adult to turn to so far, and that was the Professor. Best to start with the small problem, and see if the Professor would help with that at least. He turned his head to fully make eye contact with the man and smiled weakly. "I dunno how to use quills, sir."
The man smirked slightly and angled his head so that Harry knew to step inside behind the man. The comfy chairs from two days ago were brought back with a wave of the Professor's hand, and Harry took his blue chair and picked up tea again. It seemed like a routine even after only one other previous meeting.

The man also sat down and took his tea without sugar. Harry couldn't understand how and added scoops of sugar and cream to his before sipping it with a happy hum. The man tapped the table between them, and Harry looked up from the small happy dance he was doing in his seat. "Well, Harry, we will, of course, get to having some remedial lessons to cover that oversight, but what seems to be the real cause of why you didn't eat dinner last night? Because you see, I am certain you are not so fickle as to let something of such little magnitude as being unable to handle a quill stop you from eating, and most assuredly not when I had sent food to your plate."

Harry winced having forgotten he had ignored the man yesterday. How did the man always know though? Harry had not said anything to anyone, but the Professor could almost read him like he was an open book. Harry's hands fluttered anxiously until he got a tap to them that made him aware he was doing it and even more aware that the Professor was trying to get him to stop. The man's gaze was stern, and Harry couldn't help but to feel bad for not listening to the man. But, honestly, he couldn't eat. He was so nervous and his head had hurt so much that he was sure he would sicked up all over himself and his only friend. He just had to get the man to understand.

"I… um, well, you see, my scar… it was all prickly, and it hurt all day, and I, well, I know it's dumb… it's just, it gave me such a headache, and I couldn't…" he filtered off as the man looked to be giving him a curious look.

He felt a little more at ease to have gotten the story out to the man. The Professor nodded, leaning forward slightly and resting his palms on his thighs. The slow movements had Harry's nerves easing significantly. "Has this ever happened before that you can recall, Harry?"

Harry nodded his head avidly. He would have remembered if this ever happened before Hogwarts, and now, it had happened three times in as many days. "Yes, sir, but not before coming to school here."

The man frowned and scooted forward a tad more. "May I take a look at the scar on your forehead, Harry?"

He nodded his acceptance, moving closer to meet the man half-way. The Professor took his face in warm, firm hands and seemed to gaze directly at the scar that still felt red and irritated. The man didn't poke or prod at it, which Harry was grateful for, but he did take out his wand and wave it over the mark with the wand tip lit. Soon enough, the man pulled away, putting his wand away as he did. Harry leaned back also, taking sips of tea to occupy his nervous hands. "So, Professor?"

The man arched his eyebrow. "I cannot seem to find anything through the means I tried just now, but I see the scar to be irritated. Would you mind if I treated that for you, Harry?"

Harry shook his head, and the man went to a cabinet by his desk and took out the same type of jar as he had on Monday. Essence of Murtlap was what the man had called it, which Harry knew from before would heal him. The man came back over to him and gently took some of the potion to his forehead, causing a cooling sensation to come over him. He sighed in relief, letting his tensed shoulders relax some.

He looked up to see the Professor looking him over with concern. "How is your headache, Harry?"

Harry smiled at the man. "Already gone, Professor! Thanks!"

The man nodded minutely while putting away the jar. The man came back to his seat and leaned forward once more. Harry felt his body tense back up, but he wasn't as nervous as he had been last time he sat here. "Could you tell me when this happened to you, Harry?"

Harry gulped, getting nervous as he knew what he had in answer to the man's question. He placed his cup down as his hands began to shake, and he wanted to fidget with them but stopped himself by sticking them under his thighs. He couldn't look back up at the man, so he glared at his knees. "Um, well, the first night, sir, and in every defense class since."

Harry peeked up through his fringe to see the man's eyebrow raised and the stern frown was back. Harry felt his panic pick up and rushed to explain, "Uh, sir, t-the thing is, I thought it was you. I looked up and my scar hurt when I saw you at the Welcoming Feast. B-but, it hasn't happened around you since, and well, then it happened when I looked at Hagrid the next morning and then in defense the first day, which was when I got that really bad headache, but it stopped, but then the next defense class it hurt even worse when I was standing with the Professor while he demonstrated a spell, and it hurt so bad I thought I might sick up. I'm really sorry for being bad and not eating and disobeying, and I am just some useless."

"Harry," the man snapped, stopping him from his rambling.

Harry looked down sheepishly and blushed. The man tutted and lifted his gaze with a finger under his chin. Harry's embarrassment faded at the man's softened look. There wasn't a smile, but Harry could see it in the man's eyes, and it reassured him. "I am no longer disappointed over you not eating, and you are not bad; however, I am quite displeased you saw it fit not to mention this to me Monday."

Harry looked down again, feeling his chest tighten with nerves. "I'm sorry, sir. I just forgot with us talking so much about… well, the other stuff. And, well, I didn't want to bother you."

He looked away sheepishly, feeling vulnerable even mentioning their talk over his home-life. The Professor settled a hand on his knee, and Harry peeked up to see a reassuring look pasted on the man's usually frowning face. The comfort was automatic, and he lifted tear streaked cheeks to see the man fully. "It's something I can understand, Harry. After all, you were not up to speaking with me, and I am grateful you came so soon to get help."

Harry's body flooded with warmth at the praise, and he stopped second-guessing telling the man his problems. The man had listened to him about the Dursleys. The Professor could help him. "Thank you, sir, but how do we, um, well, how do we fix it?"

The man frowned, leaning back in his chair with his hands steepled to his lips. "I will discuss it with Madame Pomphrey, the matron here at the school, but until we know more, I would have you come to me when it is bothering you so that I may heal it as I did today."

Harry looked at the man in awe. The man was inviting him to get his help multiple times a week, but wouldn't that bother the man? Wouldn't he become a burden, and then the Professor would stop helping him? Maybe he could nick some of the healing potion the man had, and then well, he would only bother the man if his headaches were really bad. "Um, yes, sir, I will."

Harry bit his lip anxiously, thinking about how to get his hands on the potion without being caught. He scraped the bottom lip, trying to smooth it out in his nerves. He was stopped by a hand grabbing his chin and tapping his lip. He looked to see the man giving him a stern frown, and Harry ducked his head. "No more of that, Mr. Potter. You are hurting yourself needlessly, and if I find you hurting yourself again, it will be a detention."
Harry froze for a moment with shock before shaking his head. "No, I won't… Honest, I'll stop. 'M sorry, Professor."

The man nodded before leaning away from him with his arms and legs crossed. "We have one more matter to discuss before breakfast, Mr. Potter."

Harry honestly hated being called Mr. Potter by his Professor. He hadn't really known his name until grade school, but being called Harry by an obviously cold and well-mannered Professor Snape had felt like winning something, and being back to Mr. Potter felt like a demotion. He would have to do better, to win the man over.

Harry straightened in his chair, his hands going under his legs and his teeth clenching to keep from biting into his lip. "Yes, Professor?"

"I have been in conversation with the matron here, Madame Pomphrey, and she has been made aware I have a new student for her to examine."
Harry knocked his foot into the table as he stood from his chair. "You told her!"

He didn't want to be angry with the Professor, but the man had promised. "No, now, sit down, Harry, and watch your tone."

Harry froze at the cold tone in the man's voice, but he sat without shaking too much. How could he let himself have an outburst like that. Who did he think he was? This was an adult, and he was a freak. "I'm sorry, sir."

The man sighed, and Harry looked up in time to see the man rub at his temples. "It is fine. I apologize for snapping. As I was saying, I have spoken with her about having another student without naming you specifically so that I may have your blessing beforehand."

Harry felt like the biggest prat in the school. "Oh."

The man rolled his eyes. "Indeed. I made the appointment for tonight if you will agree to letting her in on our investigation."

Harry flexed his fingers nervously. "But, why, sir?"
The man leaned forward, a serious look on his face. "Harry, telling me was only the first step. I need her to scan you to diagram your medical ailments throughout your life so that we can take that with us when filing the Dursleys unfit with the Ministry. While there, she can tell us how to heal you from some of the more chronic pains and disorders caused by their lack of care. Do you think you would be amiable to that?"

Harry went to intertwine his hands before catching himself and moving them quickly under his thighs. "I-I think I could, but um… could you…" Harry trailed off unsure of himself.

He had lost his nerve, wishing he could have something he never had, but he was being a prat. He was shocked when the Professor placed a hand on Harry's thin shoulder. "Could I what, Harry?"

Harry wiggled in his seat, his lip coming between his teeth again. The tap to his chin wasn't unexpected, and he let go of the lip and clenched his teeth. He looked uneasily at Severus's black boots. "Tostaywithmeatthecheckup," he rushed out in a mumble.

"To clarify what little I understood of that, you would like for me to stay while the matron scans you?"
Harry blushed, ducking his head, before nodding shakily. He really wanted to have the man be with him as he wasn't comfortable being checked over by anyone, but his Professor knew everything already and was sure to be unsurprised by the findings. He wanted someone safe and well, like Professor Snape.

The man scoffed loudly, drawing Harry's eyes to the smirking man. "Well, of course, I would be present. I cannot have an errant matron checking you over and spoiling you rotten with her matronly ways. I needed to be there to oversee and document it as well. You cannot get rid of me that easily, Mr. Potter."

Harry could see through the flippant way the Professor spoke, and he knew that the Professor was going to be there to make him feel better. He understood the Professor's need to not show his feelings, but the Professor took it to a point where he wouldn't even show how nice he was. It was probably because of that reputation Snape had talked about Monday.

He felt tears coming close to falling and wiped them away quickly. He had no reason to cry, not because someone was finally going to be there for him. That wasn't a reason to cry. He wasn't a bloody baby. He tried to stop it, but he buried his face into the man's sternum and wrapped his arms around him. "Thank you! Thank you, sir!"

The Professor patted him on the back, and Harry knew the man felt awkward, probably as awkward as he did. He let go of the man and pulled back into the chair. "Well, yes, of course, you are welcome. I would have it no other way."

Harry blushed and looked down again. "You will have lessons with me on Sunday mornings to lunch time, and on Mondays on my open fourth period that seems to be open for you as well. Understood, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded excitedly. "Yes, thank you, sir! I'll be early every day, I swear!"

The Professor inclined his head. "Yes, I believe you. I think we will begin with the quill at first. I will have you write some lines as you must have learned when you were learning how to write. Then we will progress from there. How would you feel learning about magical culture and customs?"

Harry nodded, excited to learn anything the man had to teach him. He wanted to be able to impress the man with his skills, and maybe he could just spend more time with the man. "Good, I am glad you could agree to my ideas, and now, here are my terms. You will not slack on your school work, you will let me know when you need more time for homework rather than attend our lessons, you will stay out of trouble, and you will inform me of any material you need to cover in depth. Do you agree?"
"Of course, sir! Anything, all of it!"

The man seemed amused as he smirked. "I will walk you to the infirmary after dinner, but for now, we are going to be late to breakfast if we do not leave in the next few minutes."

Harry followed the man's lead as he stood up from where they had been sitting, and the Professor had just agreed to spend more time with him. He was looking forward to their time together.

Snape

Severus was shortening his steps for the small child to keep up with him, which he could admit he had never done for anyone. Why had he been so odd lately? He had kept secrets from Lucius, mostly about what he had been doing in his spare time, that of which he had little as Malfoy junior was in detention every night, because he could not seem to wrap his head around who he had become. He was going soft, the child was making him soft.

He had made extra time and reserved extra attention for the child to help him to grow. James Potter's son was going to be taken under his wing as his mentee. He was unsure when he had gotten to this point. He had spent two days conferring with Madame Pomphrey and hiding his doings from Albus Dumbledore. He had never trusted Dumbledore as far as he could throw him, but he was changing for the Potter child. Who would he be by the end of the year?

He concealed a weary sigh as he lept them on their path thinking to himself, 'Merlin, help me!'

He walked the boy as far as the corridor to the Great Hall. There he stepped back from being inline with the child and made it look as if he was walking a dunderhead to his doom. He guided the boy by his shoulder to the doors and left him to walk in on his own. He strode his way down the center aisle, catching a blonde headed boy slipping in behind him and into a seat at the Slytherin table. He saw the glare on the boy's face, and for once Severus noted it was not directed at him, but it being directed at Harry was not going to make his life any easier.

He made himself take what had happened and what he knew and hide behind his Occlumency shields where no one would find them. Walking toward Dumbledore, he brought up a false anger directed at Potter. He did not have to focus on which Potter, and the air of not differentiating would keep his cover. He sat by the madman and inclined his head to Filius sitting at his other side. "Good Morning, Filius."
The diminutive man looked at him in disappointment. "Ah, Seveurs, another detention with Mr. Potter?"

Severus smirked, all a part of his mask. "The errant boy found it his duty to prank my personal office this morning. He, in his foolish Gryffindor absurdity, deemed my waking hours to be much later than they were and was caught red-handed."

The twinkle in Albus's eyes made Severus sneer. "Ah, Severus, boys will be boys."
Severus sneered at the man. "That is always your take on it, Headmaster. You never change."

The old man frowned. "I haven't any idea what you mean, Severus."

Severus scoffed before turning to Filius. "I will be dealing out his detention tonight alongside the young Malfoy Scion."

"Is that wise, Severus? I have heard the Malfoy boy is already becoming a problem for the Potter child."

Severus looked to Filius, the man giving him a way out of having to deal with Draco tonight. He looked down the table to Minerva. "Minerva, may I trouble you with something?"

The scottish witch looked down at him with an arched eyebrow. "Ah, of course, Severus. What do you need of me?"

"I would ask you to take the Malfoy boy tonight for his detention, and I keep Potter. Consider it a fair trade, a snake to a lion and a lion to a snake."

She smirked and turned in her chair with her head cocked. "What will you give me in return, Severus?"

"Scotch?"

She nodded. "I will take the boy, but I expect my scotch by tomorrow."

He inclined his head. "Why of course, Minerva. I am a man of my word."
She chuckled and moved back to her food. Severus took that time to look at Harry at the Gryffindor table, and he could see the boy picking at his toast, mostly ripping it to pieces. He took his wand under the table and silently moved some food to the boy's plate. He didn't acknowledge the child looking to him this time, not with Albus's attention on him.

He glared and swept his look across the room, settling on Draco. The boy was glaring between him and Potter, and Severus could deduct the boy had seen them walking calmly up from the Dungeons. He would have to threaten the boy. Maybe blackmail, maybe detention on his weekends, maybe with telling his mother what he has been saying to Severus and his father. He would think of something for after his first class, first year potions. He would have to inform Draco to see Minerva tonight, and that would be his time to speak about what the ungrateful snot saw.

He left before the students, taking the back exit to the alcove before steering toward his dungeons. He opened his classroom for the children to enter, but he was having his first class with the first years, Harry's class. He had settled on who he would be taking down a peg, and he knew it would be risky.

He waited until the time was hitting the hour for class to begin, and then he swept into the room. It was silent immediately, and he began with a roll call. He paused on Harry's name, "Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our… new celebrity."

The boy looked confused as his Slytherins snickered at his expense. Severus would make it up to the boy later or explain if needed, but he doubted Harry would not recall his reputation speech from Monday.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but Severus had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort, most likely in fear of him. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

This is where he would put his plan to the test. He had never singled out a Slytherin before, but to see his godson's head turned from him and ignoring him made his determination set. "Mr. Malfoy! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

The blonde looked up at him in shock. He had heard about his first class his whole childhood, and Severus saw the realization of who Severus had chosen to belittle come over him. "I don't know," the boy spat.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut-money clearly isn't everything."

He ignored the bushy haired girl's hand. A classic know-it-all muggleborn thirsty to prove herself in a world she did not originate. She would be a nuisance. Back to the glaring hotly blonde Slytherin, who had been a thorn in his side. "Let's try again. Malfoy, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

The boy sneered. "I don't know, Severus."

He swept closer to the boy, towering over him. He wanted to wipe that smug look from the boy's face, and this was the best way. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Draco?"

He ignored the shaking muggleborn girl with obviously no manners or sense of the room. "What is the difference, Malfoy, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't sodding know, Snape, but it seems the filthy mudblood is dying to tell you."

No one made a sound, not even his Slytherins. His blood boiled within his veins and his heart thrummed in his chest. He grabbed the boy by the ear, pulling him to his feet and steering him to a corner of the room. He planted the boy in the corner and used a sticking charm on his feet. "Maybe your immature, petty name-calling can be cured by a child's punishment, eh, Draco?"

He turned on the rest of the class and sneered. "Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat, and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

He swept back to behind his desk with a glare. "And one point from Gryffindor for your lack of decorum, Miss. Granger."

He continued with putting their potion on the board, a potion for curing boils, and then split the children up to complete the potion. and swept around like the bat he was known for being. Fifteen minutes into the Malfoy boy's timeout, he let the child sit down with red cheeks stained in embarrassment. He was emboldened by the child's humiliation at his hands and smirked through most of the class, at least until the Gryffindor Longbottom managed to melt the Finnigan boy's cauldron.

The Longbottom child was covered in potion and moaning in pain, but Severus was angry that his spite was struck short by the failures of this child. The other child of the prophecy; the one who could have been taken rather than his sister Lily. He hated the boy, actually hated this boy, not for the father or mother, but for what he stood for, what could have been had Voldemort only chosen him.

"Idiot boy!" Severus snarled at the shaking child. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

The whimpering boy was a lame lion, a poor excuse of a Gryffindor, better to have been sorted into Hufflepuff. "Take him to the hospital wing," he spat at the Finnigan boy, who had already been several times for exploding any time his wand was waved.

Pitiful excuses for wizards. He steered his anger in another direction. "You, Granger, the hand waiver with all the answers, where were you when he was adding those quills too soon? No answer this time… Pity. Another point you have lost for Gryffindor."

He saw the Potter boy stand, but luckily, his red-headed friend kicked him. The boy sat down, and Severus was saved from having to scorn the only child in the room he was not trying to tear down. Though it seemed, the child would have words for him. "Continue your potions."

He turned from the boy, reigning in the anger he had felt from the beginning of class. He knew why he was angry, and he wanted to curse the Malfoy child more. He hated that word. Mudblood. That word had nearly ruined him, had cost him years with his sister, and had lost him his soul in servitude to a madman. He hated that word, and he had let it get to him, had let the boy get to him.

He occluded his mind of the class and let himself go through the motions of berating the children for their failures and slights, except for Harry. He could not stop himself from just ignoring the boy's presence, but he made up for it by tearing into the Weasley boy. It was not his finest insults, but he was now off his game, keeping so many emotions behind his shields.

He saw the few minutes they had left and tapped the chalkboard. "Clean your tables and leave. Mr. Malfoy, stay behind to discuss your behavior."

The class did as he said, and when the time for everyone to leave came, the Malfoy boy was going for the door with his cronies. He stuck the boy to the ground and swept all other children from the room. He was left with a frustrated Draco, trying unsuccessfully to unstick his feet. Severus swept a hand in the boy's direction, causing the struggling boy to stumble forward. "What kind of sick bastard are you? Buggering my father, convoluting with Potter, and then today!"

He swept over the boy in a second, prowling into his space. "Sit, down," he hissed with great restraint. The boy collapsed into his seat, Severus's magic reacting to his orders. "I grow tired of your loose tongue, boy! Continue on this path, and I will be forced to do more than detentions. As it stands, Filch is more than happy to take you on for your new Saturday detentions. Be sure to keep the polish from getting onto your clothes, lest you stain them."

The boy looked ready to scream again, but Severus had had it with the boy. He snapped a wrist, and the child was silenced indefinitely. "Try this spell for the rest of the day, Draco. You need to learn not to use such words, or you will be using no words at all. Meet Minerva at her office after dinner for your detention. She has agreed to look after it as I have more important endeavors to accomplish, much more important than you, Mr. Malfoy."

The boy glared, breathing deeply with his mouth moving without any noise. Severus smirked. "About Potter, I am not sure what you think you saw, but I can tell you I can show your mother what I have seen of your behavior lately, and living with her, well… that will become a different beast entirely. Do we understand each other, Malfoy?"

The boy nodded, his eyes watering. Somehow, Severus did not feel moved. "Get out of my sight."

The boy scurried from the room, and Severus smirked into the open classroom. Well, that was until Harry came storming into the room. It was lunch, so he did not have to worry if the child was missing classes. He sighed and sat, exhausted already by just one set of double potions.

The boy looked so much like Lily, red with anger and retribution.

Severus put up his hands. "Please, allow me. I apologize for my behavior because I am sure it blindsided you. I did not mislead you or lie, and I am not going to be cruel to you. I told you before, I have a reputation, and that is what you just saw. I may have gone too far with Mr. Longbottom, but at that point in the class, I was angered by the word Mr. Malfoy had used to speak of Miss. Granger."

The boy looked stunned and drew his head back. "What word? Mudblood?"

Severus glared sternly at the boy. "If you ever think of using that word, Potter, your timeout will be in the Great Hall for all to see. Am I clear?"
The boy nodded hastily, but he cocked his head, the curious whelp. "What does it mean, Professor?"
Severus sighed pinching his nose. He released it and gestured the boy to a stool. He took up one across from the child and levelled the boy with a frown. "It is a slur used for muggleborns, and it means dirty blood. In the wizarding world, some wizards, namely Purebloods, consider people born to non-magical parents to be lesser than those born to magical parents. The followers of Voldemort believed this."

"And, Draco?"

Severus sneered. "Obviously, Mr. Malfoy has his views, but his attitude is usually not so bold."

Harry nodded. "He was really disrespectful, sir, but I think you might have made him feel bad."

Severus looked at the boy like he was a conundrum. "What of it, Mr. Potter? Draco has made it quite apparent how he feels about you and has now insulted one of your fellow Gryffindors, so why care how I treat him?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't like what he said or how he acts, but you were acting like a bully, sir. Neville seemed really scared as well, and well, I don't think that was right. And, I know Hermoine can be kinda annoying, we all think so, but well, she really just knows a lot of stuff."

Severus looked down at this child, this nearly fearless boy, who earlier was cowering, but when faced with defending others… This was why he was a Gryffindor then. Severus inclined his head. "You are right, of course, but this is what I meant, Harry. I am not proud of it, but this is the person I must be. I do not wish for it to get between us, but at this time, I cannot act any differently."

The boy bit his lip, and Severus tapped his chin. The boy let the lip go but flexed his hands to show his nerves. "I think I understand, Professor, but could you maybe try not to degrade anyone?"

Severus sighed. "I will try, Harry."

The boy beamed at him, and Severus felt the class to not be a complete loss if he got to see the boy smile finally. This was what he had worried over for days. The boy was changing him, and he was allowing it to happen. Who was he going to be by the end? Would he even know?