A/N: It appears I have been gone for what seems to be a century from this account; I had the unfortunate problem of having my email hacked, so I had to wait months to fix THAT. And then there is high school and the issues that pop up every day - in other words, I sort of slacked on my writing. But now that I am officially back, I hope that nothing like that happens again. So, hello world, I'm back where I belong. :)

So, to charge back up my writing, I'm just doing this little Harry Potter one shot...warning, it will be slightly angsty, because in the past few months, that is how I've felt. As with a lot of writers, a lot of what I am feeling comes out in what I write.

Reviews are very appreciated; no flames, though, please. Dreadful things, those things are. But constructive feedback is welcomed. I sincerely hope you enjoy this 'return fic' (which is what I will call any story I publish to Fan fiction after I have had a rather long pause in my writing).

Title: Snape's Lesson

Pairing: Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst

Summary: Would you like to see me, Snape? The real me? Then let me show you so that you won't ever have doubts about me again!

Rated: T

Warnings: Some strong profanity, moderate violence, NO SLASH

Time Period: Fifth Year, occurs in one of Snape's Occlumency lessons.

Story Type: One Shot

"Potter!"

My head was swimming, on the verge of having my eyes roll back into my head and passing out. Instead, I grit my teeth and focused on Snape's voice. Fantastic idea, Dumbledore Continue the Occlumency lessons with Snape? How bloody fantastic!

As my vision gradually became less blurred, I watched as Snape grimaced and strode forwards, gripping me by the shoulders. "How many times must I call out your dreadful name, Potter?" he spat at me. I leaned back in the chair, glaring. "I won't tell you again; concentrate. Do I make myself...clear?" I hesitated, then slowly nodded my head, still trying to get my bearings. "Good." He pulled away with a disdainful sniff.

He turned to me again, wand raised. "Prepare yourself, Potter." he sneered at me. The dim light of the dungeon made it hard to make out anything, really, but with my still blurred vision, as I struggled to recover from Snape's last vicious attack on his mind, it made things about ten times harder.

"Legillimens!"

My body stiffened, then jolted violently as I was unwillingly pulled back inside my head. Too weak and tired to even attempt to stop Snape, I watched as he carelessly sifted through my memories. I could almost hear his snort of snide amusement as he, again, saw my shy kiss of Cho. A shroud of fog seemed to cover my eyes as Snape tugged other memories from my subconscious; I pursed my lips and feebly tried to prevent him, but I was easily pushed aside.

Pathetic, Mister Potter, he taunted me inside my head. I expect a first year would perform better than you.

I tried to shout out, to tell him to stop - anything, really, but nothing came out. Snape, seemingly at his own leisure, pried at each memory. There was me attempting to save both Hermione and Ron from the lake at the second task of the Triwizard Tournament; me in the bathroom, covering myself up with bubbles in embarrassment when Myrtle seemed to be trying to peek; and then snapshots of me wrestling in my bed with nightmares I knew Voldemort were somehow sending to me.

"Stop!" I shouted at last and began using what little strength I had to push Snape out of my mind. Once more, I failed, but the professor conceded and drew from my mind. I collapsed into the chair, shirt drenched and forehead slick with sweat, matting my hair. "Just...stop, please." I said more quietly, nearly begging.

Snape drew closer with a cruel smirk. "A Potter begging? I never thought I would live to see the day."

"Shut up!" I cried out, hand over my chest, which was aching. I did not know why; something inside me just seemed to snap, shatter, and crumble into painful dust. Snape froze, his face darkening dangerously.

"What did you say to me, Potter?"

"I told you...to shut up." I repeated, then, with a brazen smirk I added, "I never though I would live to see the day when a Snape was short of hearing."

The professor's eyes burned with unrestrained fury and, with a snarl, he pointed his wand at me again, "Legillimens!" Unprepared, my head snapped back as memories once again swamped my vision.

I can do this all night, Mister Potter! Snape growled in his mind.

I wanted to throw back a nasty retort, but I was exhausted, my mind weary with trying to prevent him from seeing my memories. Fine, I thought angrily, if he wants to see, than let him fucking see! Mustering my newfound rage, I fought against Snape's presence as he watched with mild amusement at the memory of me being snide to him in my very first potions class; as he took off points for my cheek; and as the Slytherins, particularly Malfoy, ridiculed me.

Would you like to see me, Snape? I screamed at him through my mind. The real me? he man paused in his searching, astonished at my sudden telepathic outburst. Let me show you so you'll have no doubts about me again!

Heaving a deep breath, I dug out memories I'd buried deep within my head...memories of my childhood at the Dursley's. Now look, Professor! I spat at him.

After a brief hesitation, Snape began to look though those very memories. I grimaced, knowing I'd be forced to watch alongside him. This is the ultimate humilation. I thought to myself.

The first memory was very brief, but it showed me beaten with a frying pan on the head by Aunt Petunia. A large welt appeared on my head as blood trickled down the side of my face.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Petunia!" I was crying, holding my hands to the side of my face. "I won't drop your breakfast again, I promise!" I was then suddenly take up by Uncle Vernon, who grabbed me roughly by the hair and shoved me into my cupboard, pulling out a patch of my hair. I let out a shriek of pain.

As Uncle Vernon locked the door, he snarled at me, "Quiet, you insolent brat! You don't deserve what we have given you; you should be lucky to have a home at all!"

As this memory finished, Snape, in a sudden, urgent movement, immediately began to watch the next. I knew he would enjoy this. I thought, feeling a burn in my eyes.

The next memory comprised of me being thrown on the couch, with my uncle behind.

"This'll teach you not to open the mail unless told." he growled at me. With a rough tug, he pulled down my trousers and boxers, then began loosening his belt. I whimpered, but was quickly silenced with a sharp slap to the head. Uncle Vernon than proceeded to whip my viciously on my behind, causing large bruises and red ridges to appear on the sensitive skin. All the while I was screaming for him to stop and for help that I knew would not come.

Mentally trembling, I forced myself to bring up one last memory. Snape will really love this one.

Snape pried into instantly and I swallowed my pride.

This memory involved Dudley's favorite activity.

"Who wants to go Harry Hunting?" he was yelling out enthusiastically to his friends. It had been a warm, sunny day and I'd been minding my own business, sitting on the lawn near the garden and counting blades of grass. I glanced up in alarm as Dudley and his gang walked menacingly up to me. "We'll give you five seconds to run, punk." he demanded.

Knowing I really had no choice but to run, I began running. Nevertheless, they caught up with me very quickly - well, two of Dudley's friends, anyways - and tackled me to the ground. They held me there, spitting in my face and shoving it into the gravel. When Dudley and the last of his friends showed up, they began pummeling me in the stomach and face, splitting my lip, and stomping on my hands and feet. I received some harsh kicks to the face and then Dudley proceeds to raise his foot and savagely smash against my stomach-

"No!" I cried, and with a firm mental push, shoved Snape from out of my head. He staggered backwards, stunned, while I fell from the chair with a great sob. So that Snape would not see my tears, I buried my face into my hands. Oh, the shame of it all.

The two of us kept to a pregnant silence. After what seemed to be an eternity, my breathing steadied at last and I was able to raised my head, my face stained with red lines from my tears. My whole body was shaking and I cast a broken glance at Snape. "Are you satisfied, Professor?" I whispered, turning my head away.

Snape approached, his face unreadable again. And it here it comes...

"Mister Potter," he spoke to me quietly. "I believe that is quite enough for tonight."

I glanced up him, surprise showing through the remnants of my unshed tears. His lips quirked up almost imperceptibly. "Believe it or not, however you choose, but even I am not so cruel a man as to continue your lesson when quite obviously you are exhausted...and distressed. You will report to me tomorrow night at seven o'clock. Do not be late." He spared me one more glance and I was surprised to see more than just a hint of some emotion other than hate, that which I could not decipher, in them. Snape then turned his back on me.

Taking this as a dismissal, I muttered a "Yes sir" while leaving the room, and stumbled up the spiraled staircase, out of the dungeons...

Laying in my bed that night, to say that I was confused would be an epic understatement. I was utterly baffled. I had expected Snape to jeer, to ridicule me after prying into my deepest, darkest memories...but instead, in what seemed to be almost an act of kindness, he'd ceased the lesson, even though it was supposed to go on for another hour. For that, I was extremely grateful.

Still, I could not help but feel highly uneasy for the next Occlumency lesson. Would Snape have cast aside tonight as if it were nothing and pretend it had never occurred? Or would he, perhaps, stop being such a prick...? I snorted. There was as much an opportunity of Snape to stop being Snape as there was of him defeating Voldemort; both ideas were thick-headed and the chance of them happening were very slim.

I rolled on my side, sobered up again from my brief, mild amusement. Of course, even if that chance of Snape becoming...nicer to him ever happened, it would be next to impossible that they would ever patch up their history, filled with hatred and misunderstandings aplenty. And Snape would probably, never ever forgive his father.

So much for what hope I do have. I thought gloomily. My eyes lifted up and traced te outline of the clouds outside one of the dormitory windows, the moon behind them casting a silhouette; under the cover of darkness and in the shred of moonlight glimmering from the sky, the clouds were mountains. As my eyes finally began to close on their own accord, I decided I would rather be up there than down here...

That all too familiar sense of dread filled my inside and drowned out the blood rushing through my veins. I could only hear the insults, the hurtful comments, all the shit from the past...all of which would probably continue into tonight's lesson. Oh, boy. I thought sarcastically as I came to a pause in front of the dungeon door. I can't to go into the notorious dungeons of Snape and hear what foul words spew from his mouth.

I opened the door and stepped inside. My jaw dropped.

The dungeon space used for our Occlumency lessons was not as they had been when I left the other night. Instead of the cold, damp dungeon floor, there was soft, light green carpeting. One, large, black , leather sofa was spread across the carpet. There was a dim lighting fixture on the ceiling; the walls were a cozy...green - what on earth happened to the terrifying grey stone? - and there was a warm fire crackling happily in a fireplace in front of the sofa.

"Bloody hell!" I exclaimed, stepping in cautiously and taking in the scene with awe.

"Language, Mister Potter." I whipped my head to the side to see Snape coming throught what I supposed was a hidden door. Well, Snape hadn't changed. He was still wearing his notorious black cape, coat, and slacks. But something had changed in his expression. There was a smirk pulling at his lips, as there always seemed to be when the man was mocking him; tonight, though, something was different about that smirk. It was less...Snapish. And his eyes didn't seem as dark and daunting as they had been last night.

"Sir?" I said uneasily. "Um...Professor? Uh...er, well...what exactly happened here?"

"Eloquent as always, Mister Potter." Snape answered, with his trademark scowl; however, I had the feeling it was in jest. Snape and jest. Who would have ever thought those two words could be in the same sentence? "To answer your question, the events of last night were...not what I expected."

I flinched at his word choice and again wanted to fold in on myself. It seemed Snape sensed this, for he frowned. "Come, Mister Potter; sit." As much as I felt I was going to regret this meeting, I did as I was told and sat, if a bit warily. "Would you like some tea?" he asked me.

I was shocked. Snape, of all people, was asking me if I wanted tea? "Yes." I said quietly, startling myself with the steadiness of my voice. "Just cream, please." The man just kept on surprising him.

Snape left the room for a few minutes, through the hidden door, then came back with a tray. He handed me my cup. As I took it, I decided that I did not want to get on Snape's bad side and would be courteous, since the man was going out on his way to be nicer to him - well, so far. Who knew what two hours could bring? "Thank you, Professor." A curt nod was the man's only acknowledgment of my thanks. Oh, well. Some things never change.

Snape took his own cup and settled down on the sofa next to me. "Harry," he began and I nearly dropped my tea.

"Sir?" I exclaimed, staring at him in amazement. The professor smirked.

"If I may finish?" I blushed and nodded.

"Harry," he began again, "Last night, you did three things that astounded me. First off, you finally managed to muster what will you have in that tiny noggin of yours and pushed me out of your memories. I congratulate you on your minor success." This made me smile. He sounded exactly like the Snape I knew, only without his usual snarky bitterness. Snape noticed this and raised an elegant eyebrow, but did not comment.

"Secondly...you used telepathy, which is incredibly hard to master. I congratulate you on that as well; while that does not make up for your foolish endeavors in Occlumency, it does renew my hopes that somehow, you may improve."

"In other words, sir, you are impressed." I grinned, eyes glinting.

Snape's lips quirked. "Do not flatter yourself too much, Mister Potter." Just as quickly, his mirth fell away. "Considering the circumstances under which you used telepathy, I will not blame you. But, if you choose to continue attempting to send telepathic messages to your friends, I would encourage not to do so under such currents of emotion."

I gripped my tea tighter and glared at Snape. He raised a hand to calm me, sensing my agitation. "To do so would do no less than announce your thoughts to all who perform telepathy. Luckily for you, I had magicked the walls in the dungeon specifically so no one outside the room could hear anything of what was going on, telepathic or verbal."

"So, Professor, you are saying," I said, "that you could have downright murdered me and no one would have been the wiser?" I smirked mischievously.

"Exactly." he replied, sipping at his tea. "Lastly, concerning the memories I saw..."

I blanched, my smile falling immediately. I had rather hoped to skip this part of the conversation but it was Snape I was talking to; who was I kidding?

Snape, again, sensed my discomfort and pursed his lips. "Harry," he told me softly. "I will not disclose any of what I saw. We can both regard that as confidential; you should have no fear of me reporting what I saw to any student, faculty member, or person outside the school."

I nodded, to show my understanding, but still felt slightly ill, my face pale and my hands shaking. I set down my tea so I would not actually drop it. "Thank you, sir." I said in turn.

"And now, Harry," Snape spoke again, "I need to ask you some personal questions. You need not have to answer-"

"I'll be fine, Professor." I interrupted. "Just ask away."

"The questions will be few." he stated, before sipping and then setting down his tea.

"Does Professor Dumbledore know of what has occurred with your relatives?"

I swallowed thickly, furrowing my eyebrows. "I think I told him once. I think it was sometime after I blew up my aunt-"

I paused as I watched Snape' eyes widened. "You what?"

"You didn't hear that story?" I exclaimed. "Aunt Marge was dissing my parents and I got so angry that I just, well...I blew her up with accidental magic. She floated right out of the house and into the sky."

As I was quickly explaining, Snape had been taking a sip of tea. He snorted, tea flying out of his nose. I watched in astonishment as the man chuckled and cleaned up the mess non verbally. "I suppose the ministry had to-"

"-Yes, they did." We shared smirks.

"Anyways," I continued, "I went to Professor Dumbledore and told him I was unhappy with my relatives. I explained to him that they were abusing me. He said he would look into it. I never heard from him again on that matter."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Insufferable, lying coot." he muttered.

"Did you have any friends before starting school here?"

I sobered further. "No; anyone who wanted to be my friend would be scared away by my cousin, Dudley. I was friendless up until I came to Hogwarts."

"And your relatives; they attempted to 'squash' the magic out of you?"

"Yes, sir. They tried all methods - psychiatrists, public humiliation. Finally, they just settled on beating it out of me."

I watched, fascinated and slightly touched, as Snape's jaw clenched and his eyes hardened. A silence drifted over between us, and we both took the opportunity to sip our tea. "You know, Mister Potter," he finally said, "We are not so different after all."

He turned to look at me. "We have both had less than deserving families and we have both had to mature faster than what we should have." I couldn't have said a truer statement myself.

"Indeed, sir." I replied. "In the end, I don't whether that makes me stronger or not."

Snape stared at me again. "It all depends on how you choose to deal with it."

I suddenly smiled. "That reminds me, sir, of this quote. From The Lord Of The Rings movie." Snape immediately rolled his eyes.

"You students with your strange obsessions..." he muttered.

I laughed. "Just wait, sir. This wizard named Gandalf said something along the lines of this when Frodo Baggins wished the ring had never come to him. Gandalf said: 'as do all who come to live such times, but it is not for them to decide. All they must decide is what to do with the time they are given."

Snape raised his eyebrows, obviously impressed. "I shall make it a point to...research this Gandalf. Surprisingly, there is wisdom even in the fictional world."

"Which is why you should always study and look closely at everything around you."

"Mister Potter." Snape said. "Make that the fourth time you have astounded me; I never knew you had it in you to be very wise at all." I laughed again.

We sat in silence for a while more, sipping our tea. A comfortable silence with Snape, I mused to myself. I wonder what Ron would say...

"I imagine," Snape finally spoke again, startling me out of my thoughts, "That you should head back up to your dormitory, Harry. Your friends are probably wondering whether I have finally come to my senses and prepared you for potions ingredients."

I smiled as we both stood up. "I think that was an attempt at humor, Professor."

The man smirked good-naturedly. "Or I could be deadly serious. Good night, Mister Potter."

"Good night, Professor." I turned to walk out of the "dungeon" but paused, turning back. "Professor?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Harry?"

I bit my lip, wondering if I would really risk this...yes, I would. Walking briskly back to him, I threw my arms around him and hugged him. Hugged. Snape. Out of all people to hug! I felt the man stiffen; obviously, he was not accustomed to such displays of affection but I cannot say I wasn't relieved when I felt Snape wrap his arms around me and hug me back...granted, it wasn't a hug at all, really, but for Snape, it was a bloody good start.

"Thank you Professor...I needed this. And I hope we have come to an understanding of sorts." I told him, pulling away.

The man looked down at me and. An actual smile graced his face. Make this the fourth time you have surprised me tonight, Professor, I thought, mentally giggling. "I believe we have. And...I believe that you, Mister Potter, have taught me a lesson." I glanced up in shock. "We may not fix our history to perfection, but I am sincere when I say I hope we may...eventually, get over our animosity."

I grinned. "I've been waiting for five years, Professor; imagine how I feel?"

Snape smirked, cuffing me on the back of the head. "Go to bed, you foolish boy."

Walking out, and closing the doors behind, I felt a great deal better. An almost affectionate Snape. A redecorated dungeon. Laughing and having tea with Snape. Either I would soon wake from one of the strangest dreams I have ever had or this is real and my friends will never believe me. I took the latter to heart and practically skipped up the stairs all the way to the Gryffindor common room.

I skipped. Out of the lair of Snape.

Imagine that.

A/N: Personally, I really like the ending, but I would also love to know what the rest of you thought. Reviews are held with the utmost appreciation, so please review. I hoped you enjoyed this one shot; I know I had bunches of fun writing it! :D