July 9, 1996

The clearing came into his vision, as did the dark robed and masked figures that stood in a circle and awaited their leader. Severus Snape walked to his esteemed spot next to Lucius Malfoy who stood next to a shorter figure Severus had never once seen at a death eater meeting, though there was no doubt by the way he held himself—his actual height—and that he was standing next to Lucius Malfoy, that this boy was Draco Malfoy. Severus felt a sinking feeling. Was Draco attending to get the mark himself? He kept his face expressionless as always behind his mask, but the thought was driven out of his mind when Voldemort entered the clearing, his red eyes moving from each of his death eaters, eyes resting solely on each appreciatively.

“Everyone is here, I see,” Voldemort said.

Severus followed him with his eyes waiting for anything to give him even the slight clue, what he was planning; what he was feeling; his reason for the meeting—everything.

No one said anything to agree with him. He walked towards the middle of the circle and stood within it, looking around himself again.

“Severus,” Voldemort said, then, his voice almost a hiss.

Severus not surprised at being called forward first, quickly walked onward and bowed to Voldemort, his movements precise—planned—though they did not appear this way to the rest of them.

“My Lord,” Severus said, clearly, his voice void of any emotion but respect—hate interlaid within in it in the back of his mind.

“What news, then, from the order?” Voldemort asked casually as if the matter had ceased to be important. Severus knew better than to believe that.

“Dumbledore called a brief meeting yesterday to discuss the matter of the wards around Harry Potter’s home and the reason they may be failing. He did not seem sure, of course, that they will fail undoubtedly but they are getting weaker. As for the reasons, they weren’t fully given but Dumbledore clearly knows them. He, as far as I know, has not shared his concerns with anyone.”

Voldemort nodded slowly but even though he seemed completely and utterly calm, Severus continued on with caution as he waited for Voldemort to say something.

“Potter’s protection grows weaker,” Voldemort said, finally. “Was there anything else, Severus?”

“No, My Lord, nothing that is urgent or new. They are waiting for a move from you, My Lord.”

Voldemort nodded and dismissed him back to his spot a moment later, seemingly to contemplate something. Once Severus stood once more in his spot he wondered what Dumbledore had in mind telling him to share such open information with Voldemort, but he dare not pay attention to the rest of the meeting for mindless thoughts.

The meeting continued on. Severus watched as Voldemort called each and every one of his death eaters forward until only Lucius Malfoy remained uncalled.

“And now, my death eaters, the real reason for today’s meeting,” Voldemort said almost with glee. “One more shall be added to our ranks today.”

Disregarding proper decorum, most of the death eaters looked towards Draco, standing at his father’s side. Neither Malfoy seemed to notice this, but Lucius smirked when Voldemort chuckled, regaining all eyes to him.

“So, young Malfoy, shall we test this allegiance you have to me?” Voldemort asked, almost mocking.

Draco did nothing, Severus noted, but from shifted from foot to foot until his father pushed him forward, and almost stumbling, he knelt in front of Voldemort and kissed the hem of his robes. Severus could see the boy was scared, as much as he tried to hide it, but Voldemort seemed to want this from him.

“Stand up, Draco,” Voldemort said.

Draco shakily stood before him.

“Before you take the mark I want you to prove yourself, Draco,” Voldemort said almost gently, and then turning away from him, “Wormtail!”

Severus watched, disgusted as two muggles, both already beaten to a pulp were lead into the clearing, pulled and pushed until they were on their knees in front of Draco. Draco’s eyes were wide as he pulled back from them, though his eyes remained on them—transfixed.

“Kill them,” Voldemort hissed. “Kill the worthless meaningless muggles.”

With his neutral expression Severus took both of the muggles in. The youngest one was seven or eight. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and blood covered part of her face, and even more than that she was holding her arm in a strange angle—broken, he knew. Her companion was in a worse condition, his clothes were practically in shreds, his eyes weren’t streaming tears but crimson blood. Terrible gashes covered part of his face, and he was trembling. Severus recognized the after affect of the cruciatus. His eyes moved away from the victims and towards Draco.

Draco looked paler now than ever. His eyes remained trained on the two muggles in front of him, but he did nothing.

“Kill them, Draco,” Voldemort said.

Draco opened his mouth. “I—” He looked away finally, his eyes seeking his father.

Severus looked to Lucius as well and noticed the strange way he clenched his fists and held himself. Had it then not been Lucius’ idea to bring Draco to Voldemort? He glanced at Lucius from time to time, but his eyes were trained on Draco for the most part.

“Kill them,” Voldemort insisted, this time his voice had a dangerous hint to it.

Draco didn’t seem to realize this but he lifted his wand regardless, but the words didn’t want to come to him, he didn’t want to kill them.

“Kill them,” Voldemort repeated, almost giddy.

Severus followed Draco’s expression as he pointed his wand directly at the victims.

“Ava—” Draco began, shakily, but before he could continue Voldemort had placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

Severus looked to Lucius who looked calmer than before, now, but still tense and worried. Draco stood in front of Voldemort cringing at the hand on his shoulder. When it dropped, however, his facial expression did not change and then Voldemort was bringing out his wand and shooting the killing curse at the two muggles. Voldemort laughed, and then he was pulling Draco’s left arm toward him, pressing his wand hard against his pale white skin.

“Morsmorde,” Voldemort hissed, watching the dark mark appear on Draco’s skin.

Draco screamed in agony, his features twisted. Voldemort let go of his arm. Draco fell to the ground, clutching his burning arm. Voldemort was laughing.

“Collect your son, Lucius,” Voldemort said, then, and dismissed them.

Severus heard the sounds of disapparition around him, and noticed Voldemort too had left, before he approached the Malfoys, while reaching into his robes to pull out two potions.

“Here, take these,” He offered Draco.

Lucius was the one to take them, however, before uncorking each phial and putting them at Draco’s lips.

Draco gulped down each potion and felt immediately better though he said nothing.

“Thank you, Severus,” Lucius said. “We—we should get going, Draco, come here.”

Severus watched as father and son apparated together leaving him in the clearing alone. With a quick shake of his head he too turned on the spot and apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy was a death eater and he didn’t seem particularly happy about it, but it was news to the order that he needed to get to them at that very moment.

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July 17, 1996

Harry Potter woke up to the sound of gentle knocking coming from the door to his bedroom. Confused yet curious, Harry opened the door to the hallway and found himself looking at a smiling Remus Lupin who stood next to an overly exuberant Nymphadora Tonks who styled electric blue colored hair and violet eyes. For a moment Harry found himself wondering how the Dursley’s had taken seeing her like this.

“Wotcher, Harry!” Tonks said.

“Hi,” Harry returned. “What are you two doing here?”

Tonks ignored the question and instead stepped into the room, bringing out her wand. “I’ll start packing your things, then,” She said.

“We’re here to take you to headquarters. We just managed to get the place back to sorts; after Sirius”—he gave Harry a calculating look—“died we weren’t completely sure about how the house would be of use to us. He had been prepared for this—who isn’t at times of war—and he overrode the magic that would give all his belongings to his relatives to leave them to you. Everything was determined to be fine, Dumbledore added a few more spells and luckily we can still use the place.”

Harry nodded. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ever set foot in 12 Grimmauld Place ever again even though now he was pretty sure that he would have to. It was his house now, not Sirius’.

Tonks had managed to put nearly all of Harry’s things in his trunk and was finally just gathering a last few things when Remus spoke again.

“I’m proud of you, Harry,” He said, almost as if he didn’t want to bring the subject up but felt he had to. “I am very pleased at just how well you are coping with the events that took place in the Ministry. Sirius would also be very proud of you, you know.”

Harry could say nothing, but he didn’t think Remus expected him to say anything. He couldn’t tell Remus how much it had hurt, how he had practically locked himself in his room every day and even skipped meals, and that until a week ago he hadn’t even bothered to clean his room, not that it was a mess, but he could spot a number of things throughout the room that should have been put in the trash.

“Done,” Tonks announced.

Harry grinned as she levitated his trunk out the door and followed with Remus.

“Where are the Dursleys?”

“They left the house right after we arrived. I don’t think they liked my hair,” Tonks said.

Harry grinned, before asking his next question. “How are we getting there?”

“Portkey,” Remus answered, looking at his watch. “In fact, it should activate in two minutes.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of ribbon.

Tonks took one end of it while Remus held onto the other. She pulled the trunk towards her and laid a hand on it, while Harry reached to touch the remaining part of the ribbon. It didn’t take long for it to activate and then they were in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. Only two other people were in the kitchen—Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape. The former smiled with the ever-present twinkle in his eyes; Snape did the opposite—he scowled.

“No trouble, I take it?” Dumbledore asked.

“None,” Tonks said, taking a seat.

Snape sneered at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. Remus shook his head at them before he waved his wand at Harry’s trunk.

“Take a seat, Harry,” Dumbledore offered. “There is something we need to talk about.

Harry nodded and sat next to Tonks, directly across from Snape whom was now watching him impassively.

“The wards around number four Privet Drive have begun to become weaker ever since the events that took place in the department of mysteries,” Dumbledore said.

“But how, I thought as long as I believed that was my home it would continue working.”

No one said anything, and then it was Snape who spoke, even though it was clearly only directed at the headmaster. “What did Black do in order for Potter to receive this house? Could that have intervened?”

Dumbledore frowned. “I don’t quite believe that would have, but Sirius must have done something.”

“And quite like always the rest of us must clean up his messes,” Snape remarked.

Harry said nothing but he glared at his potions professor.

“Severus,” Albus said as if in warning, before he changed the subject. “We must once more bring up the subject of occlumency Harry. Have there been any dreams concerning him?”

“No. My scar throbs occasionally but that is to be expected, now, it comes with his moods. He felt particularly happy last Wednesday.”

They were all looking at him. Dumbledore was amused; Remus and Tonks looked worried; Snape at first seemed confused and surprised but then his face was a blank.

“When it starts to hurt I usually get some sort of feel at his emotions, sometimes everything is too much for him that I’m able to discern why he’s feeling. This time around he was just simply happy about something, but it wasn’t too strong.”

Dumbledore gave Harry a smile before standing. “Professor Snape will once more attempt to teach you occlumency this summer, Harry, you shall start tonight by learning to trust each other.”

Harry frowned. “But—” He began only to be cut off.

“Unlike you, Potter, the headmaster does have things to do other than hear your complaints,” Snape said only to receive an irritated glance from both Remus and Dumbledore.

“Severus,” Dumbledore once more said in warning.

The potions master nodded, but said nothing more. Harry had the impression of a sulking child and fought hard to not laugh at the thought that had crossed his mind. After saying good-bye to the headmaster and watching him floo back to Hogwarts, Harry turned to Remus and Tonks.

“I’ve got to go as well,” Tonks announced. “Kingsley most likely wants me back by now.” She smiled at Harry with a wink and also stepped into the fireplace.

“And I shall leave the two of you to bond, and put your trunk in your room, Harry.” With that said Remus walked out of the room, with the trunk floating behind him.

Harry didn’t know what to say, so instead of saying anything he remained silent, staring at the table. He nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder and glared at Snape who merely gave him a look.

“Come along, Potter, we have much to do, and little time to accomplish it in,” Severus said in a low tone.

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Two hours later found Harry sitting in the library of Sirius’s—his—house, sitting in a comfortable chair sipping his second glass of firewhiskey while his least favorite professor sat in the chair opposite his, nursing his own glass. They hadn’t really talked, but they hadn’t fought either, which was something.

“Potions, Potter,” announced Snape suddenly. “Is a precise art, much like occlumency, I fear, because of your deficiency at Potions that you may never understand occlumency properly.”

Harry shot him a glare. “If you were a better teacher I could probably get it right. All you did was yell at me, you know, you never told me what to do.”

Snape considered him. “Learn by experience,” Severus said. “It was how I was taught and it was how I attempted to teach you. I imagine, now, maybe I should have explained more about how to do it.”

Harry merely nodded and set his glass on a table next to him. “I didn’t try to learn,” He admitted. “I wanted to see what was behind that door.” He looked away from Snape and added, “If I hadn’t wanted to believe everything in those dreams Sirius would never have died. No one says it but I think we all know it, it was my fault he died.”

“Don’t be so arrogant to believe that the death of that mutt was anything less than of his own doing,” Severus said, almost with silent understanding.

Harry blinked at him but said nothing as he remembered what Hermione had said when he had said that to her in a letter. Her reply had been five pages long describing how Sirius’ death had not been his fault. But it hadn’t been her letter that had finally allowed him to get over it. Instead it had been when he had thought about Sirius’ character that his decision to stop sulking had become possible. Sirius would have wanted him to live instead of mourn him for the rest of his days.

“You are willing to learn, now, then?” Severus said, breaking into his thoughts.

“I guess,” Harry said, adding, after a moment, “If you’re a good teacher.”

Snape gave an almost imperceptive nod, and then he stood up. “It comes then to point out that we both shall need to work at this then, and it should best begin here.” With that said, he walked towards a shelf. “Occlumency,” He said a moment later, muffled almost. “Takes meticulous discipline. You must want it, and you must work hard at it.”

Harry said nothing, but stood up, left his glass on a table and walked into the rows of shelves. Snape was holding a number of books and still looking at more.

“Here,” Snape handed him half of the books he had taken. “It does not surprise me that there are so few books on the subject.”

“Few?” Harry asked.

Snape gave him a look and took two more books. “Back to our chairs now, I think.”

Harry set the books down on the floor next to his chair, and grabbed the first book. “You’re almost as bad as Hermione,” He muttered when he noticed Snape had already begun writing things down on a spare piece of parchment and yet he hadn’t even opened the book he had on his lap.

Snape glared at him. “Do not compare me to that bushy haired know-it-all.”

Harry laughed but said nothing while he looked at the contents of the book. “Does this have anything to do with occlumency?” He asked.

“It’s about memories, is it not?” Snape asked, glancing at the cover of the book Harry was holding.

“Yes, but that isn’t going to help me, is it?”

Snape glowered at him. “If it wasn’t going to help, I would not have you the book, just read it.”

Harry didn’t argue further as he began to read the first chapter which spoke about how certain memories when brought to the forth most part of your mind they could compromise any dire situation if they were emotionally painful. As Harry read he continued to make the certain connections that had obviously been reason enough for him to read this book. As he continued reading, he couldn’t help to look at Snape across from him.

“I’m sorry,” Harry heard himself say.

Snape looked up, giving him a piercing look.

“I shouldn’t have gone into your penseive, last year, I felt awful after that, but it opened my eyes to who my father was. I never told anyone, not my friends anyhow, just Sirius and Remus but I needed to know more about him. Sirius excused it as his age but that isn’t an excuse.”

Snape was watching him with a strange expression on his face and then he said in almost a whisper, “You’re not your father.” And then he was leaving the room, his robes billowing behind him.

Harry looked after him and laughed when a strange thought crossed his mind. How did Snape make his robes do that?