The true study of Occlumency is a lifelong process, a skill to which only the most attuned to the mental arts may aspire.  The degree of mental discipline required to master the art of Occlumency has rendered the study among the most difficult…

Harry slumped in his chair. If Dumbledore thought this book would prepare him, he would be sorely disappointed. All the book had served to do so far was to discourage Harry further. It made learning Occlumency sound so hard.

Harry sneaked a glance at Snape through his lowered lashes. The man had been leafing through various books and writing notes on parchment for more than an hour. Harry tried to sit up straight enough to get a glimpse of what he was writing, but he couldn’t quite manage. Having failed, he slumped back down in his chair.

One result of reading this book was that his thoughts had continually been brought back to the most skilled Occlumens he knew. The man wasn’t just moderately skilled: to fool Voldemort for so many years – or, for that matter, to maybe still be fooling Dumbledore – he had to be an expert. Hmm. Was there such a thing as an Occlumency master, like there was a Potions master? And knowing that Snape had originally applied to be the DADA teacher, was he a master at that as well? Was there anything that Snape wasn’t a master at?

Other than interpersonal relationships, of course.

Harry almost snickered, but he managed to keep his silence. All he needed was for Snape to exercise his Mastery at Insulting Harry Potter. That was perhaps his best mastery of all.

Harry refocused his eyes on the page and tried to read the next paragraph…tried being the key word. But it was all about the different levels at which one could learn Occlumency, and Harry once again found his attention waning. Why couldn’t someone just explain this to him in easy to understand language? Why must it either be by forceful attacks on his mind or through a boring, discouraging giant of a book?

He flipped back to the Table of Contents, hoping to see some more interesting chapters coming up, but instead of reading the actual titles, all he saw was the sheer number of them. It would take him an entire week to even make a dent in this thing!

He again found his eyes drawn up to study Snape. The professor was so skilled; if Harry had liked him, he might have found himself able to admire that skill. But even if he couldn’t bring himself to actually admire anything about the man, he was growing steadily more curious. Just how had Snape come to be an expert at Occlumency? He couldn’t have been born knowing it. Had he taken up the study himself? Or been forced into a tutoring situation like Harry? If Harry could figure out how the most skilled Occlumens of his acquaintance had learned it, maybe he’d have a chance at actually learning it for himself this time…and maybe without the grueling task of reading one of the thickest books ever written.

A second was all he needed to come to a snap decision. Snape hadn’t been more horrible than usual the last few days, after all. In fact, he hadn’t even been that bad, all things considered. One question wasn’t going to end Harry’s life as he knew it. So before he could take another second to rethink, he cleared his throat and asked in a carefully respectful tone, “Er…professor? How did you, um, learn Occlumency?”

Snape’s hand stilled, then continued to complete the line he was writing. A final flourish of the quill, and he brought his narrowed eyes up to survey Harry. “Using conversation as a distraction will only serve to delay your reading, not replace it, Potter. Continue. In silence,” he added, a warning to his tone, as he returned to his writing.

Harry shrugged. Well, that wasn’t so bad. He didn’t get what he wanted to know, but his head was still attached to his body. In fact, it was enough of a victory to give him the courage to try again.

“The book says that Occlumency must be learned…sir. I thought maybe if I knew how you learned it, that might help me figure out how I should go about it.”

Snape looked up at him right away this time, with the same narrowed eyes. “Pardon me, Potter. Allow me to understand. You disregarded my instruction last year, blatantly argued with me at every turn, deliberately trespassed into memories you were forbidden to enter,” Snape’s tone was growing dangerously low, “and you have now decided to ask for my advice?”

Harry sank into his chair.

“I am not your tutor any longer, thank Merlin. I am only here to ensure that you read. That. Book. Now read.”

Harry sighed and refocused his attention on the book. Okay, so that hadn’t been the brightest of ideas. Even though the man hadn’t thrown potions ingredients at him this time, reminding him of Harry’s intrusion into his memories wasn’t exactly the best way to get him to play nice. Harry nearly laughed at the workings of his own mind. Nice? When had Snape ever been even civil toward him?

Actually…

Harry sat up straight again. He distinctly remembered one instance when he and Snape had carried on a decent conversation. It seemed surreal, looking back on that night at the Dursleys, that the two of them could actually have talked at length without a murder being committed. But still…it had happened. And Harry had learned an awful lot of information, too.

If only Harry was sure he could be Slytherin enough to make it happen again. Okay, well…maybe he wasn’t as good at manipulating circumstances as Snape was. And he didn’t even know if he had enough information that Snape would want from him in return, but…he could try, couldn’t he?

He placed the book square on the table, propping his elbows on its open pages, and steepled his fingers as he had seen Snape do sometimes. Then, in his best imitation of a calm, calculating tone, he commented cooly, “You want to know what You-Know-Who was thinking when you escaped, don’t you?”

Snape brought his head up sharply. “What?” he barked.

Harry tried not to falter. “You want to know what You-Know-Who was thinking when you escaped,” he repeated, a little faster than he was going for.

Snape was livid. “What are you playing at, Potter?”

Harry was starting to regret his snap decision. He took a breath, trying not to let Snape see how shaky it was, before plunging ahead with his plan. Might as well, right? It wasn’t like he could back down now.

“An exchange of information. Um, a question for a question, let’s say.” Harry gulped, then rushed on, “You answer mine, I’ll answer yours.”

Snape stared at him. That’s all, just stared. Harry did his best not to squirm under that intense gaze. And he tried to hold eye contact, even though he was a little worried about the wisdom of that plan, as the man knew Legilimency and all… But he couldn’t back down. He wouldn’t back down.

Snape deliberately placed his quill on the table, not breaking eye contact, then copied Harry’s imitation of his own posture by propping his elbows and steepling his own fingers.

Harry gulped again. He didn’t have a clue what Snape was thinking. The man had carefully wiped all trace of emotion from his face, including anger. Maybe this was his revenge – torturing Harry by keeping him in suspense.

Snape finally spoke, his voice slightly mocking, “Mr. Potter. As tempting as your…offer…is, you are forgetting two rather salient points. Firstly, I am well acquainted with the Dark Lord and his present opinion of me. I do believe I can wager a fairly decent guess at what he was thinking when I defected. And secondly, even if that were not the case, it is hardly a decent bargaining chip. You have already agreed to relay your visions for both the headmaster and me this evening. You do not have a choice in the matter.”

Harry thought fast. “Then I bet you’d be interested in who he thinks of as his most trusted servant.”

“More information I shall gladly ensure that you tell the headmaster this evening.”

Harry dropped his arms, exasperated. “Well, there must be something you want to know! You sure enjoyed asking your questions a week ago!”

“What interests me, Potter, is why you are so willing to take a chance at giving me free rein of questions, only to find out how I acquired a common wizarding skill.”

Harry nearly scoffed at the idea that it was “common.” It wasn’t common, by Merlin, it was hard! But Snape’s question brought him up short. What was he thinking? The questions Snape had asked before at the Dursleys weren’t near as bad as they could have been; Harry knew that. So why open himself up to potentially worse questioning just to ask a stupid little question that might not even help Harry learn Occlumency anyway?

The more he thought about it, the less it seemed like a bright idea…and yet the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to get Snape to agree to it. Smart or no, what started as a whim was now a determination. For some reason he didn’t even want to analyze, he really wanted to see if that one conversation with Snape was a fluke…or if they could have two decent conversations in their lifetimes.

Harry met Snape’s eyes, mind made up. “What interests me, professor,” he began, putting just the right amount of confidence into his words, “is if you think the agreement so skewed in your favor, why you’re not just being a Slytherin and taking advantage of it.”

Snape’s eyebrows raised a fraction, and his lips twitched nearly imperceptibly. “Very well, Potter. Same terms, I presume?”

Harry blinked. That was it – he had won? “Um, yeah. Same terms. I ask until it’s answered to my, er…satisfaction, and then it’s your turn.”

Snape motioned for Harry to begin before leaning back to cross his arms, his face carefully neutral.

Harry cleared his throat. “Okay, well, how did you learn Occlumency?”

“My mother taught me the foundational principles when I was young. I honed my skills at Hogwarts through personal research and study.”

“Your mother was an Occlumens?” he asked, surprised. Snape issued a brief nod. It wasn’t really what he’d been expecting to hear. And the image of Snape having a mother…it was weird. Well, he had to come from somewhere, Harry supposed. He couldn’t have crawled out from under a rock, even if that theory did sound more likely.

“Is that the extent of your first question?” asked Snape at his silence.

Harry shook his head automatically. He didn’t have another question prepared, but he couldn’t waste any opportunity to ask for clarification he might wish he’d asked later. “Um…” he bit his lip, thinking hard. “How young were you when she started teaching you?”

“Looking back, I imagine she must have begun teaching me around the age of three. Of course, I did not realize that at the time. Actual lessons began when I was closer to the age of nine.” Snape gave him a look, which Harry could only describe as long-suffering. Harry wasn’t a Legilimens, but he knew Snape was generally wondering when Harry would start to ask questions that actually mattered.

Well… “So how did she teach you, then?”

Snape took a moment to respond. “She…taught me to focus my mind on specific images before I slept. By the time we started lessons, I had a firm grasp on how to direct my own thoughts. It was then a matter of learning to deflect them from external attacks.”

“So she taught you by attacking your mind, then? Like you did with me?”

Snape took on a defensive, lecturing tone. “Deflecting attacks on one’s mind is the only way by which to be prepared for an attack from the enemy, Potter. Do not try to blame your lack of learning on my methods of teaching.”

“Right. Because the two couldn’t possibly be related,” Harry groused. Before Snape could act on the murderous glare he had just thrown his way, Harry held up his hands in a symbol of surrender. “All I’m saying is you had six years to prepare your mind for attacks! I had, what, six seconds?”

Snape kept up his glare, but at least he didn’t act on it. “Are you quite finished with your first question?” he bit out instead.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” Harry slouched back in his seat, bracing himself for Snape’s turn.

“Why did you and your friends prepare Polyjuice Potion during your second year at Hogwarts?”

Harry snapped his head up and quickly averted his eyes. “W-what do you –”

“Don’t bother denying it, Potter. I know that you and Granger stole the boomslang skin from my office, and I know that you wanted it to brew Polyjuice Potion. What I do not know, to this day, is why you wanted that potion and whom you used it to imitate.”

Harry felt his neck get hot. “That’s not a fair question! You can’t ask me to say something that could incriminate somebody else!”

“Too late, Potter. Same rules as last time, remember. And that was not a rule. As I have already answered yours, you are obligated to answer mine.” Snape looked positively smug – so smug that Harry wished he was allowed to use magic to permanently erase the smugness right off of his face.

Harry settled on glaring. What would happen if he refused to answer? Well, he’d known what he was getting himself into, hadn’t he? And he had still instigated it. He gave a disgruntled huff. “There’s some kind of rule, right? About points? Teachers can’t take off points for things that happened in a different school year…right?”

Snape’s smirk grew. “No, Potter, we cannot. At least…not officially,” he added, an evil glint to his eyes. “Not to worry, however – you always manage to find new ways for me to take points. I do think you’ll find yourself lacking in that area regardless of your admissions today.”

“Gee, thanks,” Harry muttered. “Okay, fine. You win. The whole Chamber of Secrets thing was going on that year, remember?”

Snape cocked his head, his raised brows implying an ‘of course I remember, you dunderhead’ without him having to voice the words – for which Harry was minutely thankful.

“Okay, you remember. So…there were rumors flying around about the heir of Slytherin, and well…I thought it was Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy?” Snape scoffed.

Harry defended himself quickly, “Yeah, well, he’s as Slytherin as they come, isn’t he? And he comes from a long line of pure-bloods. Why couldn’t he have been descended from Salazar Slytherin?”

Snape quirked one brow, which Harry might have thought out of place on the professor’s face if it wasn’t apparently Snape’s way of saying that Harry was an idiot.

“Like I knew!” Harry automatically defended himself. “I grew up with the Dursleys, remember? I didn’t even know I was a wizard until I got my Hogwarts letter – how was I supposed to know the whole histories of all the pure-blood wizarding families?”

Snape still shook his head at Harry’s idiocy, but he silently motioned for him to continue.

“So…” Harry took a deep breath. Never in a million years would he ever have thought he’d be admitting any of his rule breaking adventures to Snape. “So Ron and I used the Polyjuice to look like Crabbe and Goyle so we could get a confession out of Malfoy.”

There. He’d said it. Quickly, but he’d said it. He watched Snape warily for a reaction.

“Ah. So you decided to stay within your own cerebral range. Surprisingly sensible of you.”

Harry would have been more offended by the insult if Snape hadn’t just told him what he thought of two of his own Slytherins. Plus, he hadn’t jumped right into a lecture. Harry let out a breath.

“And what did you find out?” Snape asked the question as though he were inquiring about the weather.

Harry narrowed his eyes. He got the feeling that Snape was enjoying this. “We found out he didn’t know who the heir was any more than we did.”

“Pity. You know, Potter, if you had just asked a vast majority of the student population, they’d have told you that you were Slytherin’s heir.”

“Yeah, I know…the parseltongue and all.”

“Yes, your little…gift. I do recall quite a few whispered speculations that you had mistakenly been sorted into Gryffindor. Noble hearts never did set snakes to attack their Muggle-born classmates, after all, hmm, Potter?”

“I didn’t set that snake on Justin Finch-Fletchley; I was trying to call it off! And as for sorting, the hat did get it right! Dumbledore said we’re defined by our choices. Well, I chose Gryffindor. The hat wouldn’t have put me there if it didn’t fit!” He stopped short of yelling.

“My, my – an impassioned plea if ever I heard one. It nearly brought tears to my eyes.”

Harry crossed his arms. He had to stop himself from pouting like a little kid. He really, really wanted to, though. Snape was being a right git. “Does that conclude your questions, sir?”

“Not quite. One more clarification, as it relates to your previous answer. You implied that the Sorting Hat gave you a choice.”

“Um…oh.” Oops.

“What choice, precisely?”

Harry stared. “It sorted me into Gryffindor, like I said. You were there; you heard it.”

Snape raised his chin into the air until he was looking down his nose at Harry. “What choice, Potter?”

Scowling, Harry reluctantly admitted, “It, erm…kind of wanted to put me in Slytherin.” He closed his eyes at the thought of Snape spreading it around Hogwarts, along with everything else he had learned. Well, Harry could deal with it – he’d dealt with loads of other times people had thought badly of him. “It said I’d do well in Slytherin, but when I didn’t want Slytherin, it right away put me in Gryffindor,” Harry rushed to say, “because that fit me, too.”

“Yes. So you said a few moments ago,” Snape pointed out, looking at Harry shrewdly. Harry squirmed under Snape’s unreadable gaze.

“That concludes my line of questioning, Potter. Do you wish to continue? Or have you had quite enough?”

Harry’s better judgment didn’t seem to be operating at full capacity, for he couldn’t bring himself to call an end to it. There was one more thing he really wanted to know…only, if he asked outright what Snape had been doing talking to Lucius Malfoy, Snape would know Harry had been listening. So he started with a more general question.

“How well do you know the Malfoys?”

Snape’s eyes glinted. “Well,” he answered shortly.

“Um…okay. Maybe you could expand…”

“Do we need to discuss the rule regarding general questions, Mr. Potter?”

Harry held out his arms in an exaggerated shrug. “Just give me an abridged history. That’s all.”

Snape leaned back completely into his chair and said after a moment, “I met Lucius and Narcissa during my first year at Hogwarts. They were both older students, and thus not in my immediate circle of acquaintances. After Hogwarts, we became…close.”

“Close?”

“Allies would be an appropriate term for the history of my…relationship with the Malfoys.”

“So you knew Malfoy before Hogwarts? Draco, I mean.”

Snape inclined his head. “Technically, he is my godson.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Wow. So you are pretty close, then.” He wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “Wouldn’t that make you more of friends with the Malfoys? Or family, even? Allies sounds so formal.”

Snape gave him another long-suffering look. “For all that you claim to have a speck of Slytherin in that head of yours, you really do think far too much like a Gryffindor.”

“Thank you,” Harry smartly replied.

Snape ignored that. “Lucius Malfoy is nothing if not self-serving and cunning to his own ends. I had great potential in the Dark Lord’s ranks. I was, in fact, rising more quickly in his esteem than many who had been with him for years. Lucius and I may have a…history, but naming me as godfather to his son was not sentimental; it was strategic.”

“Oh.” It did sound Slytherin when he said it like that. Harry knew his own parents had named Sirius as his godfather because he was their closest friend, and Harry also knew that Sirius had loved him. The idea that Malfoy had a godfather so that his father could forge a strategic alliance sounded so cold.

Harry felt a slight churning in his stomach as his thoughts veered into an unsettling realization. Draco Malfoy had everything Harry had ever lost: home, parents, godfather. Even if his father was a Death Eater and his godfather a “strategic” choice, a traitor even…he still had them. Harry didn’t. In an ideal world, wasn’t love supposed to be the stronger foundation? And yet, Harry’s foundation had been ripped from him while Malfoy’s stood firm.

Harry felt a sudden urge to throw something. Hard.

He was jolted from his anger by the sound of Snape clearing his throat. Harry clenched his jaw against his churning emotions and tried to think quickly of how else he could get information on Lucius.

But he kept coming back to the same thought… Was Snape Draco’s Sirius?

Try as he might, he couldn’t erase the waves of resentment he felt at the thought of his two greatest Hogwarts enemies enjoying the relationship that he himself had lost. He knew it was none of his business, knew he had no right to pry, but…he had to know.

So despite himself, he found himself asking, “Are you…I mean, even if it was, um, strategic…are you and Draco...close?”

Snape had remained fairly quiet throughout Harry’s internal struggle, and he now studied him with an intensity Harry hadn’t expected, like he was trying to figure out what was going on in Harry’s head. Harry kept his eyes averted.

“I expect great things from the younger Mr. Malfoy,” Snape responded, neatly sidestepping the question.

“Yeah, but are you –”

“‘Close’ is a relative term. I have never tucked him in at night, nor do we share heart to heart chats over tea and crumpets.” Snape’s tone said he was quite through with the topic, and he was giving Harry a rather odd look.

“So…” Harry licked his lips, knowing he should take the hint and move on, but he’d gotten sidetracked and he still needed to get around to the topic of Lucius. “Are you still going to be…close with the Malfoys now you’re not on Vold– I mean You Know Who’s, um…list of trusted followers?”

Snape studied him closely, and Harry still didn’t dare meet his eyes. Instead, he uncrossed his arms and studied his own hands while Snape formed a response.

Snape answer was carefully controlled. “My connection with the Malfoys was built upon a foundation of dark arts, dark masters, and self-serving motivations. Continuing an acquaintance with a known traitor would not be in Lucius Malfoy’s best interests…knowledge he no doubt has already ensured his wife and son fully grasp.”

Harry frowned. How could Snape answer so well, and yet not really answer? It was annoying. He chanced squeezing one more question into his turn. “Um, so you’re saying he would never go against You Know Who? Or would he just need a really, really good reason?”

Snape was quiet for several moments, and Harry chanced a glance up to see what was taking so long. Snape was still, watching Harry with his usual inscrutable expression.

When Snape finally spoke, it was in that low growl that told Harry not to even attempt to argue. “I would suggest, Mr. Potter, that you ask Lucius Malfoy that question, as only he truly knows his own motivations. However, as you probably would not hesitate to foolhardily search him out and do precisely that, we shall consider your round of questions concluded.” He paused. “I believe you have succeeded in wasting enough time. Return to your book.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry answered automatically, picking up the book. May as well quit while he was ahead. He could celebrate later that Snape had forgotten he had another turn left–

“Oh, and Potter?” Snape interrupted his thoughts, “My round of questions shall be considered delayed, rather than forfeited. I fully intend to collect, I assure you.”

Harry didn’t feel like arguing, so he flipped to the correct page and began to read.

Scratch that. He tried to begin to read. The book was just as discouraging as it had been before the distraction of talking to Snape. He may have overslept this morning, but well-rested or no, this book was making him want to go right back to bed.

As if his thoughts had brought it on, Harry stifled a yawn. He refocused his eyes on the open page.

The study of Legilimency, while not crucial to the study of Occlumency, does present the opportunity for a vital analysis of the methodical differences in approach taken by…

“Which is harder, Legilimency or Occlumency?” Harry asked aloud.

Snape raised his head to scowl across the table. “Do you think me an idiot, Potter? I am not here for your distraction, nor am I here for your amusement.”

“Well, you’re good at both of the, um, mental arts, right? So you should know. Which is harder?”

“If you are in such dire need of a break, go to the laboratory and begin your puffer-fish sorting. I’ll expect you back in fifteen minutes to continue your reading.”

“Er…no thanks. I’m at a…really good spot.”

Harry sighed and tried to keep his eyes open as he re-started a paragraph he had to have read multiple times. It’s just…every time he reached the end of the dry paragraph, he realized his mind had drifted off halfway through, leaving him unable to remember any of its contents.

“Legilimency,” said Snape suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Legilimency is an offensive skill, whereas Occlumency is defensive. Most wizards who study the mental arts find Legilimency highly more difficult to master, as it requires one to not only be able to control their own minds, but also to delve into the minds of others. Not all Occlumens are Legilimens, whereas it is nearly always essential for a Legilimens to be skilled in Occlumency.”

Staring for a moment before he realized Snape had actually answered his question, he stammered, “Oh…um, okay.” Not sure what else to say, he turned back to his book.

Snape gave no indication that he had heard Harry’s response, his quill furiously scratching across a half-full piece of parchment.

After that, both were silent for the remainder of the afternoon – something Harry would look back on with fondness the moment Albus Dumbledore arrived.

Because as it turned out, the headmaster had quite a few questions of his own.