Ever since Harry Potter first disgraced these hallowed halls with his presence, I have hated the brat. The child grew up around Muggles, so I expected him to approach the school with a certain degree of awe. Yet, from his Sorting, I saw him take his place of Gryffindor privilege and knew that he'd be the bane of my existence for his entire time here. Grinning stupidly, getting praise heaped upon him and glaring at me within seconds of his entrance.

Oh yes. Potter was his father's son and I wasn't soon to forget that fact.

Head bent over a cauldron, I stir and count off to thirty-two, pondering the events of that afternoon. Draco Malfoy and Potter had another altercation, something that has been happening with increasing regularity since the start of the school year. Honestly, Malfoy's penchant to fly off the handle makes me question his placement within my house. This was the third such confrontation I've discovered and Minerva has dealt with even more. Even Filius was forced to stun the two one afternoon, thus demonstrating his still formidable duelling skills.

This time, I took thirty points from Gryffindor and issued appropriate detentions. I fully expected Potter's whining and moaning about the unfairness about it all, but he just mumbled "Yes sir" and wandered off, leaving Draco to stare hatefully at his retreating form. Before he turned away, I caught a look in Potter's eyes. There was no hatred. There was no challenge. Just dull and empty eyes, which didn't look a thing like his father's.

What am I doing? I shouldn't be contemplating a student's eyes, especially not this student. I sigh. I must be getting soft in my old age.

Potion complete, I put out the fire with a flick of my wand and transfer the contents to a flask. As I try not to think about what the Dark Lord would want with a Disembowelling Potion, I hear a knock on my door. I glance up at the clock and realise it's time for Potter's Occlumency lesson. Well, as I always say, time flies when you're making agents of destruction. I sigh again and open the door.

Potter's looking pale and there are dark circles underneath his eyes. I jerk my head in the direction of my desk and pull long strings of memory from my head, placing them into the Pensieve. Potter closes the door before following me. He barely glances at the Pensieve.

"Have you been practising keeping your emotions under control?" Years of habit allow me to keep all emotion, good or bad from my voice.

Potter shrugs. "It hasn't been all that hard, lately." His mouth is set in a thin line.

Not knowing what to say to that, I raise my wand. Potter passively stares at me. "Legilimens!"

Darkcolddarkcold. Theveil, theveil, theveil. A wall, a cupboard, a closet. Darkcolddarkcold. A wall, a closet, a cellar. Black and Potter hang me out of a window. Snape looks and stares and pierces me and I don't - I can't - cringe. My father pushes my crying mother into a room, slamming the door behind them. Dudley and his friends catch up with me and there's pain and there's blood and oh. Crucio whispers the Dark Lord seductively. Crucio shouts Voldemort. You hate me, don't you, Headmaster? I'm nothing but a tool to you, aren't I, Professor Dumbledore?

I hear the scream before I realise it's coming from me. From Harry, too. From Potter. Potter casts a disarming spell and my wand flies from my hand. My breathing ragged, I look up from my spot on the floor, trying desperately to push the emotion from my face. Potter stares back, wide-eyed, not trying to hide anything at all. "What happened, Professor?" He manages to find his voice first and is back on his feet first and I feel an unreasonable flare of hatred.

His eyes aren't judging or hating, though, just curious. It's more emotion than I've seen from him in weeks. Blasted Gryffindors. He offers his hand to me and, surprisingly, I take it. As Potter hauls me up, I notice that he's grown since last year. Why on Earth do I notice this? He's not released my hand and I make no moves to pull away.

"Professor Snape, you haven't answered me. Those weren't all my memories, so they must have been yours. Why did they all blend like that?" He tipped his head upwards, so our faces were only inches apart.

I snort. "I've no doubt that it's due to something incorrect you've done." I've become quite aware of my heart beating within my chest.

"I saw your thoughts."

"That's happened before, has it not? Release me, Potter." I struggle to pull away, but his grip increases. I've forgotten how strong teenage boys can be. Especially when they're insolent brats with something to prove.

"No." Some new emotion flashes in his eyes and I look away. "I heard your thoughts. Were those your parents?"

I pull a bit more forcefully. "That is none of your business!" Potter simply uses his free hand to grasp my other wrist. "What exactly do you think you're doing?" I say with a dangerous note to my voice. My eyes meet his again and I struggle to liberate myself from his grip.

Another new emotion. "I'm not sure," he confesses. Potter pushes me back against the wall, both my wrists pinned to my side and kisses me. I struggle not to react, but my lips begin to yield as other parts of my body do the exact opposite. It's simply been too long since I've had this much human contact. His tongue snakes its way into my mouth and I lightly suck on it. He tastes like a heady mix of chocolate and butterbeer. Then, I come to my senses and gather enough strength to push him away.

"Potter!" I roar. "Despite what you may have been told, you are not entitled to anything that crosses your path."

Hurt crosses his face. Well, he's simply a rainbow of emotion tonight, isn't he? "Is that what you think?" Potter asks. "I don't think I'm entitled to y-you! I'm not entitled to anything. I saw what was in your head and I thought you'd understand! I just wanted to kiss you. I don't know why. I...I got carried away. Sorry, Professor." The last part is mumbled.

I nod curtly and return to my desk. "Never speak of this," I say.

"Do you...do you want me to go?"

"I believe you still require more practise controlling your urges." He raises an eyebrow. I continue, "You should be much further along in blocking your mind from all invasion now." The eyebrow lowers. "Be ready next week."

Watching him leave, I push the thoughts of soft lips pressed to mine and emotions that change with each tick of the second hand from my head.

As the days go by, Potter returns to his colourless state, but the trouble between he and Draco Malfoy thankfully subsides. I note that Draco is seen several times in Potter's presence without any major incidents occurring. It's not until I see Potter pressed up against a wall, Draco's knee between Potter's legs that I understand. Draco's smirking at Potter, eyes aflame, while Potter stares at Draco passively. He looks past his lover's gaze and sees me, watching. His eyes widen and emotion flashes in his face. I show nothing and quietly walk away.