11

Chapter Eleven: Attraction.

Severus lay awake in bed, a hand behind his head. How could he possibly sleep with all that was going on in his head at the moment? Could Minerva be right? Could he possibly have feelings for Potter after all this time?

Well… that would explain the erection he'd gotten thinking about the boy's magic.

No!

He slammed a hand down onto the covers before running it through his freshly washed hair. It couldn't be true! She was just making crude assumptions. Besides, it was clear they didn't like one another. Their relationship was strictly professor and student. Slytherin and Gryffindor. Merlin, why would a Gryffindor ever like him? And why would a Slytherin ever like a Gryffindor?

Then again, Lily had been a Gryffindor. But he'd known Lily years before they went to Hogwarts.

Severus frowned, pushing himself up. He was in his nightclothes, which was a dark grey and old fashioned one piece with buttons at the front. It covered his arms snuggly, the same as most of his body, and as the dungeons were stone (even with a rug on the floor), he had white cotton socks to keep warm.

In the corner of the room, Fawkes was perched, watching him as he moved over to the fireplace. The phoenix had decided that sleeping in this room was better than the office, so every night Severus moved the perch in here so he could sleep—otherwise the bird made an awful racket and kicked up a stink.

At first, it had been quite odd. He wondered if the bird was trying to make him feel uncomfortable. He'd never had anyone, even a creature, in his room before—well, besides the house elves. But he hardly called for house elves. He was quite capable of doing things himself.

Lazily, Severus waved his hand and the fire picked up, the room glowing a bright orange now as he settled himself into the chair. He placed a hand to his forehead, trying to brush the thoughts away, but it did nothing.

He supposed he could take a potion to aid his sleep, but he didn't enjoy taking so many periodically. It was better if his body learnt how to deal with things on its own rather than shoving elixirs down his throat every day and night. He was smarter than that.

The fire soothed him, though, and he stretched out lazily as he could relax in the quietness and privacy of his own quarters.

Usually, Severus was quite skilled at keeping his feelings to himself. Hell, he had to be. The Dark Lord didn't trust him for no reason. He'd been tortured to spill things before, and he'd had to learn how to close his mind in case the Dark Lord wished to get inside and read it. He couldn't possibly have the Dark Lord finding out his true loyalties were to Dumbledore.

He supposed none of that mattered anymore, though. The Dark Lord—Voldemort—was gone. Hell, if Potter could throw it around like no one cared, then he could say the name of Voldemort as well.

He vented a frustrated sigh, looking up when Fawkes flapped his wings and flew over to him, sitting on the arm of the lounge.

"What do you want?" he asked rather snappily, Fawkes tilting his head. The bird just gave a somewhat comforting chitter.

Severus moved himself back up into the seat, lifting his hand and giving the bird a gentle pat. "I don't know why you stay here," he muttered, looking at the phoenix. "I killed the greatest wizard there is, and his pet bird decides I'm next in line to own it?" He grunted.

Fawkes gave a sharp squawk.

"Unbelievable. If I can't sleep, you can't." How in the world did Dumbledore handle this bird? He always saw Fawkes just sitting there peacefully as if listening and watching. Apparently the bird had more life to him than he'd thought. He got the feeling Fawkes had been watching him for a long time.

Maybe he just missed the company of Albus. That was most likely it. He'd spent most of his life with him, so of course Fawkes would miss him.

"I know I murdered him…" he murmured, feeling stupid for even talking to the creature. Fawkes was intelligent, though, and he was certain the bird could actually understand him. He seemed to anyway.

"I regret it, if that helps any… I am far from Albus Dumbledore, but… if you wish to stay with me, then you're more than welcome, Fawkes. I think I've gotten used to your antics by now, I must admit."

Fawkes pulled playfully at a strand of hair, making Severus eyes flatten. "Alright, I will attempt to sleep, if only to please you," he muttered, letting Fawkes step onto his wrist. He walked back over to the perch and placed him there, the fire still lighting up most of the room.

Fawkes gave a light purr as he leant his hand down and gave his chest a small scratch. Severus turned back to the four-poster bed and waved the fire down a tad so it wasn't so bright. He then popped himself under the sheets and attempted to shut off his mind the best he could.

*****

"You what!?" Ron exclaimed, his eyes snapping open in horror as Ginny came out about the love potion. He felt sick to the stomach as he looked to his little sister, Harry just looking down at his plate as it was lunch time in the Great Hall.

"And you knew about this!?" Ron's eyes went to Harry this time.

"I… just found out," Harry lied, not wanting to get Professor Snape involved at all. He was angry that the man even told McGonagall, but he figured it was policy. Should have known Snape would have told someone as soon as possible so he could remove more points from Gryffindor. How he had a crush on that man, he had no idea! He was furious at him right now.

Ginny looked down, clearly ashamed of herself. "Harry… I'm sorry," she said. She looked to Hermione for help, but the girl didn't step in. Even Hermione was on McGonagall's side with this. Of course she was, she'd broken the rules and toyed with Harry's life. But she'd just wanted to be with Harry.

Harry just nodded. He didn't want to say anything bad in front of Ron, and he certainly didn't want to make Ginny cry anymore. There were already tears in her eyes, and she'd come in puffy-cheeked, which only meant she'd probably cried when McGonagall confronted her about it.

"I can't believe this!" Ron shook his head in disbelief. "My own sister!"

"Ron, it's alright," Harry tried to say, knowing Ginny had had enough. He really didn't want her getting any more upset than she already was.

"I'm gunna kill George for ever letting you into that store of his!" he hissed, though feeling a pang of guilt as he mentioned his older brother without his twin.

This time Hermione stepped in. "Ronald!" she called out. "Can't you see she's had enough? Besides, George doesn't sell real potions…"

"I don't care!" Ron yelled. "You've been poisoning my best friend for how long? I thought you two were really something, you know? I can't believe after all this time… No wonder you broke up with her."

Ginny gave her brother a horrified look before standing up and running from the hall. Most eyes in the hall turned to her before the door to the hall slammed closed.

Harry shot Ron an angry look. "Ron, it's fine. If anything, I should be the one yelling at her, and I'm not. She's had enough, alright?"

"I can't believe you're defending her. She made you fall in love with her, mate! If Hermione ever did that to me…!" He stopped when the girl gave him a very mean look. He knew Hermione would never break school rules like that—despite their past rule breaking habits. Hermione had strong morals. Certainly when it came to others feelings.

"And you're her brother," Harry said forcefully. "Look, with everything that's gone on, neither of us need this, okay? I don't want to be mad at her. I just want things to go back to normal. Right now… I think she needs the support of her older brother, don't you think?"

The red-haired boy seemed to relax a little, slumping his shoulders. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll check on her in a bit… give her some time to think about what she's done… you know?"

Harry just nodded, not wanting to talk about it anymore. Instead, he took one of the sandwiches from the table and started eating it.

The rest of the time was rather quiet, and no one really said anything. Soon enough, it was time for classes to start up once again, and Harry was swarmed as he tried to get to class.

The new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher was the one to save him this time, and he was well along his way to Transfiguration class with Professor McGonagall.

*****

At the end of the day, Harry didn't have time to rest after his classes as he had to head down to the dungeons for his tutoring lesson with Professor Snape.

He was thankful that it was quiet down here, and he relished in the emptiness. Even if there was no sunlight and it was rather dank and cold, it still beat the crowds that were on the upper levels. He'd had enough for one day.

Stepping into the archway of the classroom, he saw a cauldron that was set up on the desk over a blue flame. Clearly he was going to be learning something practical today, which made him quite excited.

Professor Snape was looking through the cupboards for various ingredients (Harry figured), and he stood there just watching as the man was in his element.

Harry knew Snape was a great Potioneer, but he never really realised that the man had a passion for it. It was somehow blatantly obvious now as he was setting things out about the classroom, not having realised he was at the door. Something made Harry not want to make a noise. He was quite enjoying watching the man walk back and forth while he was in his comfort zone.

It was actually quite… pleasant to watch. Snape could be snarky and snappy, and he even made others feel horrible if they failed at Potions, but right now there was this certain aura around the man, like he was actually quite… at peace.

His dark robes followed him around the room, and Harry noticed he had a certain stride of pride in his work. Well, he knew Snape was good, and Snape knew he was good as well. He guessed the man was allowed all the pride in the world if he was good at it. But he never really showed it in class. Actually, most of the time, Snape was pretty dull and sharp in teaching.

Taking a step into the room, he put his bag onto the table, catching the man's attention.

"Professor," he said with a small nod.

Severus turned at the sound, putting down a phial he'd been inspecting. "Good afternoon, Potter. You can get your book out and move to the cauldron."

Before coming here, Harry had grabbed the potions book that had belonged to Snape, and he took it from his bag. He figured if he wanted to do this right, then he'd have to learn just like every other student. Hell, he was probably lucky that Snape was going to teach him extra lessons to catch up. He could really learn a few things from the man to get up front in classes.

"Sir," he said, those dark eyes looking at him, "I thought I should give this back to you… I… wouldn't feel right having it anymore. Plus, the last time I used something out of it, I almost killed Malfoy…" That was part of the reason he was returning it. He didn't want it falling into someone else's hands.

Approaching the boy, Snape almost snatched the book from Harry's hands, putting it down onto his own desk. "You should never have kept this," he said darkly, eyeing Harry.

"To be fair, Professor, you should never have written in it," Harry said. It wasn't his fault he'd found it in the cupboards. "It's still the school's property."

Snape sneered, however, it was true. He shouldn't have written in the book, and he certainly shouldn't have left it here. That was his own fault, and he knew that.

"Don't talk back to me, Potter, or I'll remove even more points from your House. Merlin knows you don't need that, but I'd be more than happy to comply," he smirked.

Harry frowned immediately, taking the other book that Snape had given him yesterday morning. He didn't need any more points being taken away from Gryffindor House.

"Sir… why did you tell Professor McGonagall about Ginny?" he asked. He really would have preferred if everything could have been kept on the lowdown, and he was still rather annoyed that Snape had told on her.

"It's school policy to report any rule breaking, Potter, you should know that," explained Severus, approaching the cauldron. His voice wasn't nearly as snarky as it could have been, though. In fact, he made a note not to make Harry even more frustrated than possible.

Approaching the young man, he could already feel the magic rolling off him. He tried his best to ignore it, but it was quite potent in the air. Instead, he took the book that was on Harry's desk and opened it to a certain page.

"I've taken the liberty of getting your ingredients for you as they are quite simple and you should be able to identify them already, like any first-year," he made clear. "You will be brewing a simple potion today, as I wish to examine just how you work with both the ingredients and a cauldron."

Harry swallowed gently, nodding as his eyes were fixed on the dark ones. They almost pulled him in. So dark and mysterious. And that voice of his, it was utterly alluring at the moment. Harry never realised just how soft and soothing it could be.

Snape had terrified him the first year he'd been at Hogwarts. He was very intimidating, taller than him, and wearing all black was scary. Over the years, his attitude had changed as he's grown up, and he was able to fight back with the professor—much to Snape's irritation. But now? Now things were even stranger.

He could now sense the magic in the room. He figured it was just the scent of the cauldron that was before him, having all sorts of different chemicals and things inside it, but it wasn't. It was sweeter than that. It was almost like he was being drawn in by it.

"So… you'll be watching me?" Harry asked, his eyes widening a little as he looked at Snape. The thought of Professor Snape looming over his shoulder wasn't a strange one. It wasn't the first time it had happened. Snape made it clear to do it to many students. And poor Neville always ended up getting nervous and screwing up in front of him.

However, this time something made Harry very nervous at the thought. Having Snape in the same room with him was enough, but feeling the man so close to him? He couldn't help but feel a familiar tingle in his gut as blood rushed to his cheeks.

"I'm positive that won't be an issue for you, Mister Potter. You already have a thousand eyes on you when you strut the corridors," muttered the professor, putting his hands behind his back. "Now, read the instructions carefully and prepare your ingredients."

Ignoring the statement about his 'strutting', Harry looked nervously to the book and looked at the first instructions.

Looking through the row of jars that Snape had put on the table for him, he went to go for one before hearing a tsk come from the professor. He took his hand back, not knowing the difference between half of the liquids on the table. Seven years of doing this previously and still he didn't know much about Potions.

Magpie blood. It had to be red, right? Most normal animals had red blood. But there were two different types of red on the table in separate jars, and he picked the one on the left that looked dark in colour.

Holding it up, he looked at the professor for confirmation, and Snape gave nothing but a blank expression. That made him even more nervous. Snape could easily trick him, and things could go terribly wrong from there. But he took out two drops of the dark liquid, letting it fall into the cauldron.

A low hissing and bubbling sound came from the inside immediately. For a moment, he thought he'd done something wrong, but when it settled down, he relaxed.

"Lucky guess, Potter…" murmured Snape, eyeing the boy. "Continue," he ordered, taking a few steps back and moving around to the front of the station Harry was working at.

Harry had managed to get all of the ingredients right, but when it came to cutting, Snape hissed and he stopped, looking up. "It says cut it."

"Potions isn't just about following instructions. Many of the ingredients perform in different ways depending on how you prepare them, Potter," Snape pointed out rather harshly. "Don't be so rough with it. Do it gently. Feel the blade of the knife slice into the ingredient to release its magic."

Harry just looked up, bewildered that ingredients could release magic by cutting them a certain way. Then again, Snape was the Potions master for a reason, and the ingredients all ended up having some kind of magic in the end. He should have already known this! Maybe it was just his nerves.

Taking the knife into his hand once more, he gently put the blade into it and sliced the piece of pickled root. "Better?" he asked, almost amused.

"Don't be so cocky," Snape scoffed. He took off his outer robes (they could get in the way of brewing sometimes) and placed them onto the nearest chair before snatching the knife from Harry's hands and grabbing the root.

"Watch carefully, Potter," he almost whispered, his fingers gentle with the knife. Carefully and skilfully, he sliced the root on the chopping board before putting the knife back down. Immediately, a rather sweet smell expelled from the sliced pieces. One that Harry had failed to produce.

"It really matters how you cut it?" Harry asked, seeing Snape's facial expression fall.

"No, of course not, I just said that to sabotage your potions making—of course it does, Potter! How many years have you been taking Potions classes? This is basic knowledge!" the professor pushed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Like your mother my…" He stopped, Harry staring at him. "Well, get back to it."

Harry continued, making sure to be more gentle with his slicing this time. He was happy when he could smell the same scent when he cut into them that Snape had produced, and he gave a rather satisfied smiled before gently putting the pieces, one by one (per instructions) into the cauldron.

Severus watched intently as the boy continued making the potion. By now, he was half way through, and he'd just need to brew it for a while.

There were moments when Harry did, indeed, seem much like his mother over a cauldron. In many classes, Potter had failed because his friends weren't as good as him, or they were distracting him (Granger was good, but she was too text-book a lot of the time). And, admittedly, he did know some of the Slytherin's had been sabotaging their potions making. He never saw it, however, so he didn't punish them. It was Gryffindor's word against Slytherin's, and it was no guess who he was going to choose.

Watching him now, though, he could tell there was a Potioneer inside the boy, much like his mother's skill. It was not a passion, though, which Severus couldn't quite understand as this had always interested him.

Potter wanted to be an Auror. He was simply taking this class because he needed to, to get his desired career. He supposed there was nothing wrong with that, but part of him would have enjoyed if Harry was actually interested in the subject rather than just having to take it.

He stood with his hands behind his back, circling like a vulture almost, just watching how the boy did things. He could tell Harry had been quite nervous at the start, but he was beginning to get rather confident in his movements.

As Harry began to stir the ingredients, Snape frowned at the boy. "No, no, no…" he said, moving up behind Harry and taking his hand. "You have to allow the ingredients to blend together smoothly. Don't just toss everything in and then thrash it all around like you're some caveman cooking over a stove."

Harry was started by the sudden movement of the professor who was now leaning up against him. He swallowed hard as he found the strong hand taking his wrist and motioning the gentle movement in his stirring.

Immediately, he could feel Snape's magic up against his own, and he felt his heart thump hard into his chest, blood flowing to his cheeks. He made sure to keep his face forward and down so Snape couldn't see the hot blush burning his face.

But it felt good. So much better than he ever thought it would. Snape's body wasn't thin and gangly like it had been as a child, but actually rather thick beneath those clothes, and he could feel the warmth of the man pressed up against him. Now he really wondered what he looked like beneath those thick clothes of his.

Realising he was so close to Harry, Severus found himself unable to pull back. Well, he could if he wanted to, but that's the thing: he didn't want to. Nor did his magic.

Harry was soft against his body, and he could almost smell the boy's magic. He could feel it under his skin, crawling its way into his own, and he realised Minerva was right. He did had feelings for the young man! Not just sentimental ones, but a lust as well. A lust that seemed to be consuming every inch of his body right now.

He swallowed hard as Harry's hand moved in sync with his own as they stirred the ingredients. This was stupid. This was wrong! How could he possibly have feelings for Harry Potter? The boy was a goddamn nuisance!

His eyes slowly went to the side of Harry's face, and he could see the young man's lips were parted, his green eyes wide as they were on their hands being linked. And he could see it, the magic between them dancing across their fingertips and around their wrists.

He pulled back immediately, wanting this to go no further. Not when the blush on Harry's face was so enticing. Not when he wanted to steal those parted lips for himself. Oh, Merlin how in the world could this have happened to him!? Not when he'd cared so much for Lily! Anyone else meant nothing to him!

Looking down, Harry felt his hand take the stirrer shakily by itself, Professor Snape still up against him, though.

He could still feel his heart beating hard into his eardrums, and he could tell his breath was shaken. He tried to hide it the best he could, though, and he was certain Professor Snape hadn't noticed his blush which was caused by the sheer amount of pleasure that rode through his bloodstream (and the thought of his most recent desire against him).

He had heavy butterflies in his stomach, and he felt weak in the knees. But then he felt something that wasn't his, and he stiffened, looking up but not behind him.

"P-Professor… um… your wand is… pressing into my back," he almost whispered. He was positive it was the man's wand. Despite having felt like Snape was connecting with his magic, he knew it was just his own imagination playing with him. Professor Snape would never like him romantically!

Severus backed away immediately from Harry, making sure his coat was hanging down and covering himself. He was thankful that his wand was actually up his sleeve, and he easily put it into his pocket just in case Harry suspected what it really had been.

As he stepped away from Harry, the magic between them didn't stray. In fact, it was even worse, like it was trying to pull him back to the young man. But Severus refused it and headed quickly over to the robes he'd removed and quickly put them back on.

"I think that's enough for today, Potter," he said, brushing himself down as professionally as possible. "You may go."

Harry stopped, looking up. But he didn't want to go! In fact, something in him really, really wanted to stay. And something deep inside him wanted Professor Snape to be up against his back again.

"But I haven't finished brewing the potion, sir," he said as a feeble attempt to try and stay. He didn't know why (well, he did), but he really wanted to be in the same room as Snape. He wanted to be pressed against him more. And his magic was sending him insane!

Snape was a powerful wizard, and so was he. Though Voldemort had been killed, that didn't stop Harry from being strong. He'd learnt a lot through Voldemort's transition, but when the Horcrux in him died, he thought his powers would be weak. They weren't, because he'd learnt how to harvest it. He couldn't always control it—obviously—but he didn't lose what he'd learnt.

"I said you've done enough," Snape murmured darkly. He did not want Harry Potter anywhere near him. Not now. Not while his magic was trying to pull the boy in.

As Snape walked past him, Harry reached out and grabbed the man's arm to stop him. In his own lust and want, his magic gripped much tighter than his own hand had, and Snape's sleeve was ripped open to expose his Dark Mark.

Stopping immediately, Snape tore his arm from Harry's grasp, hissing angrily. "Get. Out," he said forcefully through clenched teeth.

Harry just stared as Snape quickly hid his arm as if it were evil. Did the Dark Mark haunt him that much?

"NOW!"

Jumping, Harry immediately grabbed his things and quickly paced himself out of the dungeons. He only stopped when he was halfway to the Great Hall and slumped his back against the wall, breathing heavily.

He didn't mean to rip the buttons open on Snape's sleeve, it'd just happened! He didn't even think he'd grabbed him that hard!

Looking down to his hands, Harry gave a sigh. Snape really wasn't pleased with him at all. Not only had he'd ripped the buttons open, but his whole sleeve had been lifted when he'd walked by, exposing the Dark Mark. Snape probably hated him more than ever now! He'd been angry enough the first time he'd walked in on something he shouldn't have seen—the wound from Fluffy his first year here. Not to mention the whole Pensieve incident.

But this was the Dark Mark. A constant reminder that Snape had served Voldemort at one time, had betrayed Lily and the Potter family and their friends. Had betrayed everyone, really, and Albus Dumbledore. But he was sure his mother was the one Snape really regretted betraying. It's why he'd come back, to save her from being killed.

Harry's heart soon calmed down, and he regained control on himself, putting his hands back over his bag straps. He'd put his things back up in the Gryffindor common room and then he'd go to dinner in The Great Hall. He dreaded seeing Snape there. Even more, he knew Hermione would be asking him questions.

At least he knew one thing. Snape didn't like him back. Especially now.

*****

Sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Harry made sure to keep his eyes on the plate in front of him. He had some baked potatoes on his plate, along with some greens and turkey breast.

Ginny wasn't sitting beside him anymore, which he didn't mind too much. She was further down the table with some of the girls in her own year. Ron had said he'd spoken to her after classes had ended (when he'd been in the dungeons with Snape). Neither of them seemed rather happy, but apparently most of it was out in the open.

Harry didn't talk much the whole night. He honestly didn't know what to talk about. He was itching to tell someone about what had happened with Professor Snape, but at the same time, he didn't want anyone knowing what had happened. Not that he'd seen the Dark Mark tattoo on Snape's left arm, that he didn't mind—considering it was an accident. The man had freaked out over it just as much as when he'd seen his memories the first time around in Occlumency lessons, though.

He guessed he couldn't blame Snape for being upset. One, he'd kind of torn his sleeve open (although nothing broke and the buttons were still intact), and the Dark Mark was something Snape was probably highly ashamed of.

Harry didn't know much of Snape's early life. Only what he saw in the Pensieve. Of course, he knew Snape had been friends with his mother, and enemies with his father, but that was about it. He recalled seeing a young Snape at his dreary home, parents yelling from downstairs. Other than that, he didn't know much at all.

Why did Snape become a Death Eater in the first place? Surely he didn't believe the things Voldemort stood for. He had turned to Dumbledore. Though rare, he had seen some good in the Potions master.

It wasn't just that, though. Harry couldn't shake the feeling of Snape's magic against him. His body, too. It had been wonderful, and he'd be lying if he said it hadn't been somewhat arousing.

Snape felt good against his back. He felt strong. Powerful.

Harry knew he was a powerful wizard as well, but had Snape felt the same thing he had? He wanted so much to ask the man all of this, but he knew Snape would just look at him with those dark, poisonous eyes and throw him out. Wouldn't be the first time.

He mentally sighed in aggravation. He just wanted Snape to be more forward.

The man had spent years tormenting him in class, and he made no effort to hide his true feelings for him. He was sarcastic, witty and cruel with his comments. Despite what Snape had said about him having to be cruel so Voldemort wouldn't know, the both of them knew he'd enjoyed every second of being cruel to him.

Was this what their relationship was going to be?

"How was your Potions lesson, Harry?"

Looking up from his plate, Harry looked at Hermione in surprise.

"It was fine," he said all too quickly, though feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. He cleared his throat and ate some of his food, hiding it.

"Wish you could be with us, mate," Ron said, giving a rather sympathetic smile. "Bet you'd give him a run for his money if you still had his old book."

Hermione gave a horrified look at the thought. "Snape would kill Harry if he knew he still had that book." Her eyes moved to the boy. "You didn't get it back, did you? If Snape finds out you have it… he won't let you into his classroom again."

"Relax, Hermione," Harry laughed, "I gave it back to him." He ignored the look of shock that came across Ron's face from both going and getting the book back, and from him freely handing it back to Snape.

"He would've known if I still had it, and Hermione's right, Ron. As much as the book is brilliant… it's dangerous. I don't want any other student finding it, so I thought I should give it back to its rightful owner. At least Snape will hopefully lock it away now. Or burn it."

Ron sighed. "I coulda used that."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped. "No, if you're going to catch up, the both of you, you'll do it right. Besides… Professor Snape is a better teacher than I am, so I'm sure Harry's getting the best lessons there are to catch up."

Harry couldn't help but smile at that. He never really realised it before, but yes, Snape was a good teacher. He'd showed him small tricks and knickknacks that would help him greatly when entering Potions class once more.

He wondered if Hermione would even know some of the things he could pick up on. Well… that was assuming Potions lessons were still running.

He frowned at that.

"What is it, Harry?" Nothing seemed to escape Hermione Granger. Not even emotions.

"I might have to come back to you after what happened before in the dungeons, Hermione," said the boy, getting curious looks from his two friends. "I kind of… accidently ripped Snape's sleeve up."

Ron laughed, but Hermione seemed curious and surprised at the same time. "What do you mean 'ripped' up?" You didn't just accidently rip someone sleeve…

Harry didn't know how to explain this without something too personal coming out, but he breathed gently, leaning in a little to make sure no one else could hear what was being said in the conversation.

"I don't really know what happened, to be honest," he confessed. "My… wand must have got caught when he walked past," he lied, not knowing how else to explain it. "Anyway, I was sort of angry about the whole Ginny thing, and I guess my accidental magic came out. Pulled his sleeve up and everything to see his Dark Mark."

Once more, Ron seemed amused at the whole thing, despite Ginny being mentioned. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't seem very pleased.

"Harry, you've really got to get control of your magic," she urged. "You could have hurt him."

"Would have been bloody brilliant," Ron grinned.

Harry didn't actually feel anything pleasurable at the thought of hurting Professor Snape. "Well, he kicked me out. So… I dunno if classes will still be on. I'll have to check with him."

"He seems fine now," Hermione stated, looking up to the High Table.

Harry didn't want to look, but he stole a quick glance and realised the sleeve on Snape's arm was rolled back down and buttoned up perfectly.

"Sorry, Harry, better luck next time, ey?" mumbled Ron.

But Harry didn't feel bad about that. He actually felt rather pleased to see that Snape wasn't angry or anything at the moment. Maybe Potions lessons would still be on after all.

The rest of the night was rather quiet, and soon enough everyone headed back to the dormitories. Harry made a note to catch Professor Snape before he could get back to his own quarters.

"Professor," he called out, Snape turning in his tracks as he caught up. "I was wondering… when is our next Potions class? I'm… really sorry about what happened earlier, I guess I was still just angry about Ginny and all that's gone on," he lied.

Snape had little time to care about Ginerva Weasley. However, he was actually pleased to see that Harry wanted to continue with the classes. After this afternoon and what happened, he wasn't sure the young man would want to continue. He doubted he would if he ever knew that wasn't his wand that had been eagerly prodding against his lower back.

Putting a hand into his pocket, he withdrew a small piece of parchment. "You will not have a lesson tomorrow, but you will have them three times a week starting next week."

"Just like Quidditch," Harry mused. "That should be easy enough to remember."

Snape knew Harry wasn't playing Quidditch this year, which he saw as a positive if the boy wanted to pass his lessons.

"Just like Quidditch…" he drawled, sarcasm clear in his voice as potion making was nothing like Quidditch.

Handing over the piece of parchment, he allowed Harry to take it. "So you remember. I will not be tolerating any kind of lateness. Is that understood, Potter?"

Looking at the dates and times, Harry nodded. Considering he had no Quidditch this year, it should be fine. He'd still have a lot of homework to do, but maybe he could get some help from Hermione. She was always willing to help better his and Ron's grades.

"Anything else, Mister Potter?"

"Actually, yes," said Harry, Snape's eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly. "I really am sorry about what happened earlier. I… I don't know exactly what happened, but… I'm sorry. I'm glad I didn't damage anything."

Snape didn't look at his sleeve; he just held a very unreadable expression. "Off to bed, Potter."

"Yes, sir," nodded Harry, knowing that Snape clearly didn't want to talk about the Dark Mark that was on his arm.

They both went their separate ways and went to bed