Damn You, Potter

He spat in disgust as questions such as these lingered in his mind. He didn't want the recognition of being some over-valued hero; he didn't want to revel in the honor and glory of being an all-powerful wizard. No, he was a teenage boy who wanted to do what other boys his age did. He wanted to fall in love and experience the simple joy and innocence of young, untainted love. He wanted to run through the snow with his friends and have snowball fights and later show his battle wounds to his girlfriend, boasting about how he received each one. He wanted to simply be able to say that his biggest worries were passing his exams at school.

But none of this was so. For seven years now, Harry had been forced to bear a burden larger than what most people four times his age had to endure. He already knew the tainted and torn ways of the world, both Muggle and wizard alike. Every year, it had been something that was shoved in his face, and he had had to endure the constant threats from those who resented him or worse, from those who simply wanted to see his life ended. Above and beyond all, all his fears, anguish, and resentment could be tied up into one single word: Voldemort.

A shiver ran down Harry's spine, and a strange feeling of being watched penetrated his skull, alerting all his senses. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled with apprehension as the cold sweat dripped down his brow and coursed through his clenched palms. Trying to swallow thick saliva, his throat tensed and kept him from completely swallowing, the lump in his throat preventing such an action. The air smelt of stiff staleness as the wind suddenly halted to a complete stop. He had thought himself safe within the boundaries of Hogwarts, but perhaps he had been wrong. When the opportunity arose that clearly stated not to look behind him, Harry's curiosity won and he couldn't help himself as he slowly craned his neck around to peer at the grounds behind him.

Standing in a stark contrast to the white of the snow, Harry saw a figure clad in all black not more than a hundred feet away. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him. Surely a Death Eater couldn't have gotten through the gates to Hogwarts, but what Harry's eyes saw was no apparition. Standing there right in front of him was a man donned in the white mask of a Death Eater and the shimmery black robes. Reaching for his wand, Harry's hand gripped fiercely on to the end of the piece of wood hidden within his robe. The Death Eater walked slowly closer, and Harry prepared himself to attack if his opponent dare come a step closer toward him.

Suddenly, Harry found his voice and yelled, "I'm warning you now, Death Eater! One step closer and you'll regret it!"

Strangely enough, the man stopped in his tracks. Confused, Harry wondered why on earth this man would actually listen to him. It had to be some sort of a trick. Not letting down his guard, Harry held firmly on to his wand as the Death Eater slowly removed his mask. The face behind the mask wasn't the most welcoming face Harry had seen in his life, but he sighed in relief that it was who he saw in front of him.

"Are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?" Harry accused the man, fixing his glare directly into the other man's black eyes.

The older man glared back equally bitter and sighed exasperately. He wanted to send a retort in Harry's direction, but he had just returned from a Death Eator meeting, and all his energy had been drained from staying up the whole night. Honestly, all he wanted to do was sleep. Harry Potter was the last person he wanted to see.

"As much fun as it might be on any other occasion to scare the wits out of you, Potter, I haven't any time to listen to your mindless prattle. Now if you'll excuse me..."

As he turned to leave, Harry found himself drawn to respond for some unknown and strange reason. Professor Severus Snape was probably the last person he wanted to talk to, but maybe he had been out in the cold alone for too long, and maybe any type of company was better than none.

"Wait," Harry simply uttered.

Snape stopped again and gave Harry a look that would have made someone with more sense stop right then and there. Harry, however, had grown accustomed to Snape's sneers over the past several years, and he was no longer intimidated by the Potions Master.

"What do you want, Potter?" Snape asked with exhaustion clearly in his voice. He was too tired to place the usual bite to his tone.

"I was just wondering where you're coming from," Harry began. "It's Christmas Day, after all."

"My affairs are of little concern of yours, Mr. Potter. I am quite aware of the fact that today is the over-rated holiday celebrated by people worldwide, Muggle and wizard alike, but I choose not to celebrate it. If you must know, I would say it's quite obvious from my apparel where I have been."

"The Dark Lord summoned you on Christmas Eve?" Harry stupidly questioned.

"Yes, that much is obvious. Why should he care what day it is?"

Harry bit his lip with a feeling of discomfort settling in the pit of his stomach. He quickly thought about all the past Christmases he had spent at Hogwarts and remembered that Snape never liked spending time around the staff and remaining students during the Christmas feast. The professor would sorely make his presence out of respect for Dumbledore and would eat very little of the food and would always leave early. Over the years, Harry had grown accustomed to Snape's ways, and though he didn't like the man, he had to admit to himself that Snape had to be respected. It took a while for this to sink in, of course, but Harry slowly came to realize just how much Snape put his own life on the line in being a spy for Dumbledore, and Harry reluctantly recalled how Snape had saved his life on more than one occasion. Maybe it was because he was becoming closer to manhood each day and maturity was knocking at the door, but Harry felt that for the first time in his tenure at Hogwarts that he wanted, needed, to talk to Severus Snape, in spite of everything.

When Harry didn't answer, Snape scowled and shook his head. "Kindly, Mr. Potter, if you persist in tormenting me with your superfluous questions, at least let's go inside. Your foolishness for sitting out here in the freezing cold clearly shows a lack of judgment on your part."

Harry nodded and acknowledged inwardly that even though Snape's words had been coated with sarcasm and bitterness, he knew it was the man's own way of expressing the slightest bit of concern. Following Snape toward the castle that housed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry's gaze was lost to staring aimlessly at the Potions professor's long, black robes as they billowed gracefully behind his strutting form. Harry couldn't help but to feel a bit ridiculous as he trailed after Snape, for he wasn't normally one to seek out the company of this man.

Harry supressed the questions that the perhaps more reasonable part of his mind implored as Snape opened the main entrance doors and proceeded into the grand entrance room. Out of common courtesy, Snape held the door for Harry as he walked inside, but the look on Snape's face was anything but patient.

"Thanks," Harry mumbled, not looking at the older wizard.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the two wizards stood there. Normally, Severus Snape would have taken house points away from Gryffindor for simply annoying and inconveniencing him, followed by a quick retreat to his private chambers. This strange day, however, Snape found himself staring at young Harry's shivering form in confusion. He, like Harry, had come to reluctantly agree to the terms that they were on the same side, and even though they didn't care that much for one another, they had to at least remain somewhat civil in their dealings, at least when it came to the Order. In the classroom, Professor Snape was still just as ruthless as ever when it came to humiliating Harry and his friends.

Finally, it was Snape who managed to say something. "Why aren't you with your little Gryffindor friends, Potter? Surely, you three would normally be sneaking about the corridors looking to find trouble in the most unlikeliest of places."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, and he grungingly replied, "My friends are at the Burrow with the Weasley family, not doubt having a wonderful time opening presents and the like. What concern is it of yours?"

The young wizard's words were coated with venom, and Snape couldn't help but to smirk at Harry Potter's attempt to sound just as malicious and biting as he himself often did. "Just a simple observation, that is all, Mr. Potter. Now if that is it, I will be on my way."

Hoping he was ridding himself of The Boy Who Lived, Snape turned on his heals and was just about to take a step in the opposite direction when Harry's infurnal voice spoke that one, little beguiling word he had uttered just moments before outside.

"Wait."

Snape sighed in sheer annoyance and wheeled around furiously. Approaching Harry like a lion going for the kill, Snape stopped only mere inches away from the young man's face. Harry glared at Snape with determination in his eyes, his focus right on the tip of the professor's abnormally large nose. Those black, endless eyes of Snape's pierced right through Harry's vibrant green ones, but Harry didn't back away. He refused to step down.

"Is this some little Gryffindor game?" Snape's low voice hissed very quietly, dangerously so. "Because if it is, Mr. Potter, let me remind you that games do not sit kindly with me. Give me one more reason, and I will promptly see to it that Gryffindor loses all its house points. Then, come the end of the year, we'll see how your fellow Gryffindors feel when they find out the reason they have come in last place."

Harry's eyes narrowed, and he spoke evenly and just as intimidatingly quietly, "You think you can scare me? You think I care about house points anymore?" He paused and continued, his voice growing louder by the second. "Open your black eyes, Snape, and look around you! There are worse fears surrounding me than worrying about losing house points. As for you, I'm not afraid of you in the least, not when the likes of Voldemort are out there! You don't know what it's like, do you? You don't know what kinds of nightmares plague my dreams every night I try to sleep and whatever more hellish nightmares plague my life every waking moment-"

Harry wasn't thinking straight anymore, and Snape cut him down in an instant by grabbing the boy fiercely by the shoulders and trying to shake some sense into him. "Don't you dare say the Dark Lord's name, especially in my presence!" he hissed violently. "And you think you are the only one who has had to suffer because of that- that creature? Perhaps you're the one who should open his eyes, Potter. Look, look at this and tell me that you are the only person the Dark Lord has left his mark upon!" With those last words leaving his mouth, Snape lifted the sleeve up from his left forearm and angrily pushed the Dark Mark directly into Harry's face.

Totally taken aback, Harry stumbled backwards a few meager steps and touched the scar on his forehead. He blinked a couple of times before reason returned him to this senses, and not believing Snape could actually still be standing in front of him, Harry shook his head in disbelief and said softly, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did."

Severus Snape glared at the boy for a few moments before sighing. "I am too tired to be arguing over such nonsense." He shook his head and turned to walk away, but this time, Harry knew better than to ask his professor to wait for him. Perhaps against his better judgment, Harry decided to follow the dark man down the hall. Snape knew full well that Harry was practically on his coat tails, but he was past the point of caring anymore. The Potter boy had already found out much more than he should have about Snape's past and who he was. By this point in time, Harry was a thorn Snape would simply have to bear until Voldemort was finally defeated.

Stopping at the end of the hallway, Snape opened a door that led to the dungeons. The murky coldness penetrated every pore of his body as Harry descended further and further down the stairs, his footsteps echoing along with Snapes off the hard stone. A chill went down Harry's spine, and he wondered why Snape insisted on living down here in such a dark and desolate place. Then again, hadn't Harry been sitting outside in the freezing cold just a few minutes prior? Sometimes, it was just easier and less painful to be alone.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, they proceeded down the hallway until coming to the Potions classroom. Unlocking the door by removing the locking charms he had placed on it, Snape turned the handle with a soft click. The door creaked open, leading way to a dark and gloomy room full of glass bottles and rusty cauldrons atop numerous wooden work benches. Turning to his left, Snape strode directly to his office and opened the door in a similar manner as he had used on the door to the classroom.

Looking at the back of Snape's head, Harry heard the professor speak. "I know you're still following me like a lost puppy, Potter," Snape said, simply in a tone of tired annoyance. "What do you really want?"

As he finished talking, Snape collapsed into the chair behind his desk and rubbed his temples in pure exhaustion. He hadn't been invited to sit down, but Harry took a seat the solitary wooden chair that sat in front of the desk. He swallowed and found his voice.

"Professor, I know I'm probably the last person you want to be talking to right now, but-"

"No, Mr. Potter, you would be wrong on that account," Snape interrupted vehemently. "The last person, to use that term loosely, I would want to be talking to at this moment would be the one who requested my presence last night."

"Oh," Harry mumbled foolishly. "Well, anyway, my point is that I know you don't like talking to me, but this is important."

"How so?" Snape inquired suspiciously.

Harry sighed. "I have to apologize again..."

"What for?" The professor raised his eyebrows.

"For my accusations earlier. I- I had no right to say that about you. You've probably been though more than I could ever imagine regarding Vol- I mean, the Dark Lord."

"Mr. Potter," Snape said heavily, "I do not need your pity, strange as it is to hear these words coming from you. No doubt you have been spending too much time speaking with the Headmaster."

"But Dumbledore doesn't pity you!" Harry retorted. "Neither do I. I was simply apologizing, but if you're too good for that-"

"I am quite aware of the relationship the Headmaster and I share. You read what is simply not there, Potter. If this pointless arguing is all you came down here for, please leave now... before I give you detention for a month."

"I didn't come down here to argue, Professor Snape," Harry stated simply. "I- I wanted to talk to you."

"To me?"

"With you," Harry corrected himself.

Snape didn't reply, so Harry continued, "Look, it's been seven years now that I've known you, and of all the people fighting against Vol-, the Dark Lord, you have given me the most hell out of all of them. At first, I utterly hated you for it and blamed much of what I was feeling as far as my anger was concerned on you, but I've slowly come to realize that my anger was displaced..."

"Did your hatred make you want to fight the Dark Lord even more? In hating me, did you direct your hatred toward the true source of evil?"

"Yes... and no," Harry muttered.

"I see," Snape replied slowly. He stared long and hard at Harry before making his next statement. "Contrary to what my mind has long since told me, I have come to realize something, too, Potter. You are less like your father than even I would have wagered."

Those words echoed through Harry's mind like a bullet hitting him square in the head. He had heard a very similar statement before, over a year ago, when Sirius Black had told him the exact same thing. Confused by what Sirius had meant by this, Harry didn't know if this was a good or bad thing coming from his godfather and late father's best friend. Sirius died too soon for Harry to ever ask him what he really meant by those words, and with a heavy heart, Harry had been forced to move on. Here is was, his final year at Hogwarts, and the man who had loathed Sirius as much as Sirius had loathed him in return had uttered, in essence, the same thing to Harry. Coming from Snape, however, Harry knew it was a compliment, however indirect and cynical it might be.

At a loss for better words, Harry found himself asking in disbelief, "Excuse me, sir?"

"Do your ears work correctly, Mr. Potter? I said that you are less like your father than even I would have wagered."

Harry knew what Snape meant full well, but his own mind couldn't believe what his ears were hearing. Year after year, Harry had been accused by Snape of being just like James Potter, the over-rated Quidditch star, the prankster, the epitome of Gryffindor bravery. Harry didn't know how to reply or what to say to Snape, for he realized it probably took a great deal of effort on this man's part to admit such a thing to another human being, especially since that human being was Harry Potter.

Harry's eyes wandered and focused on a jar of something green and moldy-looking on Snape's desk, simply to avoid eye contact with the Potions Master. Afterall, looking at Snape directly in the eyes was something that few students had the nerve to do. Eyes like endless tunnels, a poor student could find himself lost in those eyes, lost to the coldness that Snape clearly showed to every student he taught. Harry blinked and shook his head, as if trying to clear it of something foggy, and realized how foolish he must have appeared to Snape. Had he not earlier told Snape that he wasn't afraid of him? Well, he wasn't afraid of the Snape he thought he knew, but this one statement revealed a side of his professor that he had only hypothesized about on a rare occasion, like when Harry had seen some of Snape's childhood memories in the Pensieve and realized that this dark man had once been a helpless child.

"Mr. Potter?" Snape asked suddenly.

Harry nearly jumped out of his seat, but he quickly regained his composure and frantically apologized. "Professor, I'm sorry. It's just that, well, you kind of caught me off guard with that last statement of yours."

Snape smiled slightly at that and replied, "Well, I may not be a nice man, Mr. Potter, but I am an honest man."

"Except when you're too busy putting up a front for everyone," Harry mumbled.

"What was that, Mr. Potter?" Snape inquired, knowing full well that he had heard Harry correctly.

Harry supressed the urge to retort with a comment similar to Snape's regarding his ears working correctly, but he thought better not to do so. Angering Snape was not a good idea, especially when the man was testy and tired, as he was at that moment.

"You're a spy for Dumbledore," Harry said simply. "You have to pretend to be someone you're not every time you're in front of the Dark Lord."

"Good to see you have finally managed to not start saying the wretched creature's name, Potter," mused Snape with a wry smirk. "Yes, that much is true, I suppose, but if I didn't know better, I would venture to guess that there is more to your statement than just that."

"Sometimes I really hate you," Harry muttered.

"The feelings are mutual," Snape sneered.

"Good to know you're honest as ever," Harry retorted vehemently. "You go around acting all cold and hard all the time, acting as if you don't care one bit about anyone or anything, but I don't believe that for a minute," Harry sputtered.

"And what, pray tell, makes the Famous Harry Potter so sure of himself?" Snape pressed, practically egging Harry on.

"Because," Harry began flatly, "why else would you have saved my life?"

It was Severus Snape's turn to be at a loss for words. He thought a simple sneer in Harry's direction and a dismissal might be in order as he peered ruthlessly into Harry's green eyes, the eyes of Lily Evans Potter.

"Blast Dumbledore and his benevolent ways," Snape spat. "If it hadn't been for the Headmaster filling your head with ideas that I'm sort of hero, you wouldn't be here accusing me of such."

Snape folded his arms over his chest and sighed with exasperation. It was of little use to argue with Harry Potter over the plight of events from the past several years they had been forced to live out together. Harry was right, and Snape knew it, but for a man who rarely admitted anything to himself, he was not about to openly admit anything to someone like Harry Potter.

"Accusing you?" Harry sputtered. "You act like it's something to be ashamed of." A slight tone of sadness coated Harry's last words as they left his mouth and entered Snape's ears.

"Didn't I already tell you that I didn't need your pity, Potter? Keep it up and you'll be serving detention for the whole next semester."

"Your empty threats mean nothing to me," Harry replied evenly. "And for the last time, Snape, I don't bloody pity you!"

"Then what is it, Potter?" Snape snarled, leaning over the desk as he pressed his pale hands on its surface. "Is this some newfound compassion you suddenly have for a man you view as broken and worthless?"

Snape withdrew himself into his chair again and turned away, and before Harry could answer, Snape muttered, "Leave, Potter. Just leave me in peace."

Harry knew he was no longer welcome, and he knew he probably never had been in Snape's presence. Sighing heavily, he stood up and turned to leave, but before he walked out the door, he turned to face the broken man in front of him.

"You know, you're not the only one who just wishes he were alone sometimes."

"All the time, Potter," Snape corrected him, not looking in the young wizard's direction.

Harry sighed and didn't say anything, but he persisted in standing there in the door frame. A moment passed.

"I thought I told you to leave, Potter."

"You did, but I've got to say this."

"What?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being the man you really are beneath all that coldness and darkness. For being the man who prepared me to face the evil. For being the man who saved my life... more than once." He hesitated, then added, "Happy Christmas, Professor Snape."

Before Snape could reply, Harry was gone. With fearful eyes, Snape glanced at the open door where Harry had stood just moments before. The Potter boy may not have realized it, but he had given Snape a gift he desperately needed: to be told that he was worthwhile, even if those exact words hadn't been spoken. It was the grim satisfaction that this reluctant man's ears needed to hear, for he needed to believe that one day he would be free from the clutches of Voldemort. He depended on Harry Potter for his redemption, and that is what angered him so much. He didn't want to depend on anyone but himself, for his past mistakes had proven time and again that putting trust and faith in others only led to broken promises and failure, but that was the past.

Snape knew this, but damn the day he would ever tell anyone else. The future was murky at best, but hoping for atonement for his sins was all that really kept him going. He sighed deeply and looked at the hourglass on his desk. It was almost time for the Christmas feast.

Standing up from the chair, Severus Snape headed out of his office to attend the feast. As he ascended the stairway to the ground level, the temperature warmed, and smells of the delicious meal sifted through the air. As Snape neared the dining hall, he could hear the voices of his fellow professors echoing with joy through the corridor. From the doorway to the hall, he stopped momentarily and took in the sight before him. Harry Potter was there, standing right next to Albus Dumbledore, and when Harry saw Professor Snape in the doorway, he couldn't help but to smile slightly.

Snape grimaced in acknowledgment and muttered, "Damn you, Potter," and proceeded into the hall to join the others.