Present

“Dad and I had our Occlumency lessons for a couple of months when Dad found out about how the Dursleys treated me.  Sirius wasn’t really happy when we started the lessons, but he didn’t really have much of a choice.  Dumbledore said he wanted me to have them, which normally would have been enough.  But with Dad being the instructor, Sirius was more than a little hesitant.  Even if he wanted to stop it, Dad was my dad.  So it’s not like Sirius could overrule him.  After he got past that, well, he sort of …errr… not lost interest, but he wasn’t asking me about it all the time or anything.”  Harry frowned.

“After the stuff about my family came to light though, Sirius wanted to know everything.  He probably asked me more questions about what I was doing and how I was feeling in the first two weeks after his fight with Dad then he had in the previous two years.  The thing he wanted to know the most about was my relationship with Dad.  Sirius thought Dad must have torturing me to get that information.  I tried to tell him he hadn’t, but he didn’t believe me.  When I told him things were getting better between us, he really didn’t believe me.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

March 1996

Harry knelt in front of the fire place waiting for Sirius’s face to appear.  He checked his watch once more. 1:30 a.m. Sirius was supposed to be there any moment.

Harry fought back a yawn.  He had a long day.  The day started off the night before with astronomy.  Then during the day there was Transfiguration and Charms.  He spent several hours in the afternoon trying to stay on track with homework, an ever increasingly difficult task as O.W.L.’s drew closer.  Then he spent two hours of Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape, before coming back to the Tower to work on more homework.

The thing that had tired him out the most was without a doubt the Occlumency lessons.  Harry was glad to hear Sna-the prof- his da-whatever was impressed with the progress was making in his lessons now.  The change in the way they did them made all the difference in the world.  He was glad they taken the time to go through and organize his memories.  Harry found it much easier to form his shields.  What he hadn’t expected were the benefits of the ability to control his emotions in the present and increased ability to focus, not that, that was happening now.

Harry could feel the tension in his shoulders.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to Sirius tonight.  Well, that wasn’t the truth.  He liked talking to his godfather, he really did.  It was just that Harry knew how dangerous this plan was.  Somebody had already attacked Hedwig.  If they were willing to attack his owl what was stopping them from watching the fireplaces.  Where would Harry be if Sirius had gone through all the trouble of breaking out of Azkaban and spending all that time on the run if he got caught talking to Harry tonight?

Harry checked his watch again.  Sirius was late.  Harry looked back over his shoulder to make sure nobody was coming.  How long was supposed to wait?  Should he sleep by the fireplace just in case…?  

That was getting a little ahead of himself.  Sirius was only a couple minutes later.  Harry frowned.  He wished he’d asked his da-the professor for his advice about the situation earlier that evening.  He should have, but Harry knew how much they hated each other.  He didn’t want the pro-his dad… to tell him not to talk to Sirius just because didn’t like him, even if there were other reasons too.  Harry was relieved of some of that drama as the fire crackled to life.

“Harry,” Sirius’s disembodied head greeted gruffly.

“Hey,” Harry said noncommittally.

“What’s wrong Harry?” Sirius asked.

“Nothing,” Harry assured shaking his head.  “What did you want to talk about Sirius?”

“How is that greasy git treating you?” Sirius barked.

“What? Really?  That’s what you wanted to know about?”  Harry said sitting back on his heels.

“Harry, if Snivellus…” Sirius began.

“Don’t call him that,” Harry snapped.

“If Snape,” Sirius stressed putting all his contempt into the name as possible, “is treating you poorly, you can tell me.  I can talk to Dumbledore.  I’m sure I could get you out of those lessons.  You need to speak up Harry.  I can’t fix it if I don’t know what the problem is.”

Harry shock his head.  “He’s treating me fine.”

Sirius’s eyebrow rose skeptically.  “I know those Muggles were horrible to you Harry.  You need to know that’s not normal.  If Snape is –”

“What are you on about?”  Harry asked clearly confused.

“Harry, if Sniv-Snape is bearing you or invading your mind that isn’t acceptable.” Sirius growled.

“He’s not doing anything like that.”  Harry said, his voice full of disbelief.  “Why would you…”

Sirius cut him off.  “How else did he find out about the damned Muggles?”

Harry bit his lip nervously.  How much should he go into this?  Did he tell Sirius about the fight Harry and with his dad?  Should he talk about how the professor helped organize Harry’s memories?  Would Sirius really understand how things worked?  Harry’s indecision must have shown.

“What’s wrong Harry?”

“He didn’t torture me,” Harry’s voice was small.  “I told him.  He was going on about how my aunt and uncle pampered me and stuff and… and if all sort of came rushing out.  He didn’t say anything after that really, just let me go for the night.  The next time I came down for Occlumency lessons he wanted to do them differently.  He says he’s impressed with my progress since we switched how we did them.”

Sirius sat in stunned silence.  How had he never asked how the Muggles treated his godson?  Snape had made him feel bad about this, but it was nothing compared to how he felt now.  “That’s great Harry,” he said distractedly.  “How are you doing your lessons now? What’s different?”

Harry pushed up his glasses.  “Oh, uhh… first off we’re not having them in his office anymore.”

Sirius cocked his head to the side in very canine manner.

Harry paused for a moment, final he said, “We’re doing them in the pro-his quarters.”

“Harry, he’s not … you know… touching you…” Sirius asked.

“Sirius! Gods no!”  Harry yell loud as he dared.

“I had to ask,” Sirius grumbled.

“He’s my dad, Sirius.” A frazzled Harry defended.

“You’d be surprised,” Sirius grumbled.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two.

“How is he… how’s he treating you outside your lessons.”  Sirus asked uneasily.

“Well you know in class…” Harry said just as uneasily.

“I know in class he can’t treat you any different.  How about when it’s just the two of you?”  Sirius clarified.

Harry paused.  “Oh, we haven’t really spent much time together, I mean outside of working on my Occlumency skills and in class.  I sort of just go down there for my lessons and leave when he say to go.  I stick around for tea sometimes.”

“I thought you said in your letter that he’s treating you better,” Sirius asked.

“He is.  He’s calling me ‘Harry’ most of the time, when we’re alone.” Harry offered.

There was no way Sirius could understand this, not really.

“Harry, that’s not that important.  He should call you that.”

Harry frowned. He was right, Sirius wasn’t going to understand.  How do you tell your godfather that no adult in his life, well at least in his memory until the Weasleys, had called him by his name?  At the Dursleys’ he was ‘boy’ or ‘freak’.  At primary school, like at Hogwarts he was ‘Potter’.  

There was no way he could explain to Sirius just how much it mattered to him.  It wasn’t just that the prof-Sna-Da- cared enough to use his first name it showed they were getting closer.  The willingness to be less formal was moving.  It also showed Professor Snape was moving past his assumptions about Harry and all the preconceived notions how like James Potter he was supposedly was.

There was a sound Harry looked over his shoulder.  “Is there somebody there?”

When nobody responded Harry turned back to Sirius.  “Is that sound coming from your side?”

Sirius looked around, “There’s somebody in the Floo.”

“Go,” Harry urged.

“I’ll write,” Sirius said and ducked out just as a fat stubby hand appeared.

Harry’s heart thundered.  Umbridge.  They’d nearly been caught by Dolores Umbridge.  How could things get any worse?  It would not be long before Harry would get answer to that question.