At heart, Snape was a cruel man who refused to let go of several things. His hatred for James Potter and his love for Lily Evans. Though it was been ages since James had tormented him, and ages since Lily had even spoken to him, Snape had not moved on.

Even though it had been 14 years since their death, Snape still held both feelings close to his cold, obsidian heart, as if it was the day they formed. Oh, how his treatment of Harry Potter may have differed if he looked more like his mother! Ridiculous, petty, yet true.

But, no. Harry came to Hogwarts with his father's unruly hair and reckless attitude. It was so easy to overlook the fact he was more than James' child; to ignore the fact that he was Lily's son, too. It was so easy to ignore the boy's eyes- which held the same emerald green as Lily's.

The possibility that Harry was not like Janet nor Lily never crossed his mind. Harry was his own person, but Snape (and admittedly so many others) saw Harry as a carbon copy of his father. Severus hated James; and such he hated Harry. Never gave the boy a chance, really.

Who knew that a near death experince would be what changed Snape's perspective? Who, oh who, knew that Harry facing the possibility of death with dedication and calm would be why Snape began to think of Harry and Harry and not Potter? Harry wasn't his mother's eyes or his father's hair. He was just Harry.

Harry had perfected the four spell's pronunciation and movements that went with the, as well as the first potion. He was right on time, if not ahead of the game, to get everything done in time. Harry had personally written Snape, asking him to overlook the final steps of the potion. He asked, not out of insecurity in his work, but as a precaution; you can never be too careful. (Another reason he wanted Snape to overlook his work, though Harry would never admit it, was because he wanted to impress the professor.)

Severus trudged down the hallways after supper to the library. It was mostly empty when he arrived, excluding the corner of the library where a small workspace sat. It was completely unorganized at first glance. Upon further inspection, everything seemed group together in an understandable, albiet messy way. Books were stacked together, ingredients were grouped against one another, an untouched dinner sat in front of the chair that was pulled up. (Snape suspected that Granger or Weasley had brought it; he never would've guessed his own godson had delivered it to the Golden Boy.) It was messy, yes, but functional. A few feet away from the table was three burners, only one of which not in use. An empty cauldron sat off to the side, out of the way. Harry Potter, the cause of this messy-non-mess stood leaning over a cauldron as he stirred it.

Snape watched him for a moment, expecting a greeting, but the boy seemed lost in this work. He muttered "twenty two stirs counter clockwise," then switched the direction he was stirring. Snape wondered why didn't the boy put this much effort in his regular potion's class, though that was probably due to Snape himself. He cleared his throat and Harry snapped his eyes up, though he didn't waiver from his work.

"Hello, Professor." Harry pushed his glasses up with his free hand and sighed. "The instructions are in the second and first book of the stack. Thanks for agreeing to this."

Snape gave no reply as he grabbed the books out of the stack on the corner of the table, flipping open the first one to the bookmarked page. He flipped a few pages, trying to decipher where Harry was at in the process. Step four two for the first one, and, upon fumbling through the second book, step fivety nine on the second.

He looked at the pictures, then at Harry's potions. They were the exact shade they needed be. Though the potions looked good, Harry did not. Harry looked like he hadn't slept well, if all. He looked exhausted and overworked.

"Everything is going well." Snape dawled. Harry nodded, turning his full attention to the potion at hand. "I would appreciate this level of effort in you normal classes, but no. You're just as arrogant as your father; you've really only tried because you would die if you didn't-"

"I try to try in your class-"

"You don't good a very good job at showing it-"

"-But I don't work well motivated by others!" Harry paused as if overthinking his next words. "You're rude and pushy about it, and it's really hard to focus when you're breathing down my neck all the time. I want to do exceptional work in your class but everything you do prevents it. And," Harry tried to stop his voice from showing just how exasperated he was, "Must you compare me to my father! I never met him. He didn't raise me. Any behaviours we have alike are merely coincidental. James didn't raise me! I'm more than my heritage. So, please, just leave him out of this."

Harry, after his emotional rant, felt a huge wave of embarrassment was over him. He just showed weakness, emotion, to Snape. The old git would probably sneer at him and compare him to his father just for kicks. He felt like a total fool.

Severus on the other hand stood, almost in shock, as he tried to take in the boy's words. Harry soon thought that he wasn't going to say anything at all. Snape argued within himself, before sighing. He turned, talking out but before he exited he faced Harry. His words were quiet, so much so Harry almost didn't hear them, but he did.

"I'll be better, Harry." Harry smiled at the professor's words, and couldn't help but note how he didn't call him Potter.