Soth-ince Den, Lizard Point, Cornwall July 1996 (27)

Since arriving in Cornwall, Harry had despaired of ever gaining even a moderate control over his magic. Over the next few days, though, his fears vanished.

"Inhale deeply... Visualize the object you want to move... Nod when you've a mental image," Snape instructed.

Eyes closed, Harry nodded; his brows clashed as he considered his task.

"Now concentrate; incant the spell..."

Wingardium Leviosa. Higher... higher... 

After a moment Harry opened his eyes. Relinquishing his focus, an earthy thud issued from behind him. He looked up at Snape and found a curious smirk on the man's face.

"Why that particular stone?" he asked.

"I always trip over the stupid thing going round to the garden..." Harry said, with a scowl. "How far this time?"

"Two and a half, perhaps three meters."

"Another go?"

"No, it's late and you've worked hard today," Snape said, looking out at the reddish-amber streaks of the waning sunset. He strode to the cauldron-sized stone, restored it to its original resting place with a wave of his wand, then proceeded into the cottage. Buoyed by Snape's comment, Harry bound in after him.

As Snape lit the torches, lightening the cottage's dusky interior, Harry went to the kitchen to one of the two crates Snape had brought from Hogwarts. The other crate had been stocked full of potions bottles and ingredients, while this one contained a variety of dishes and pots, charmed by Dobby to fill with whatever savory meal was desired.

Famished, Harry pulled out a large stewpot, a bread basket and a pudding platter. He set the table then called for Snape. Momentarily, the man rounded the corner, adjusting his sleeves, Fang at his heels. He directed his wand at the dog's food and water dishes; Fang watched hungrily as they filled up. Once they had, he set to work.

"What is it tonight?" Snape asked.

"Lamb stew?"

Noting Harry's hopeful face, Snape tapped the big pot with his wand, which filled instantly with bubbling hot liquid; its heavenly aroma made Harry lick his lips. Leaning over it, Snape fanned his hand, directing the aromatic steam toward his prominent nose.

"Does it need anything?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps a touch more rosemary," Snape said. Harry plucked a sprig of the herb from one of the baskets lining the kitchen counter, then tossed it into the pot.

After performing the smell-test once more, Snape nodded - his nonverbal judgment of culinary perfection.

"Good, I'm starved!" Harry grinned.

*WO

After showering, Harry settled comfortably on the sofa. Snape sat quietly in the ratty armchair, a long index finger tapping the edge of the book he was perusing.

"Say what is on your mind, Potter," he said, after enduring several moments of Harry's intense scrutiny.

"Sir?" Caught, Harry tried to sound innocent. Snape lowered his book and narrowed his eyes. "Oh, well, I was just thinking..." Snape inclined an eyebrow, feigning surprise. Harry scowled. "When we met in the headmaster's office, were you Occluding against him?"

Snape frowned. "Occluding is as natural to me as breathing, Potter, of course."

"But it's not because of that, is it? You... you don't trust him very much, do you?" Harry said, unsure if Snape would answer, but certain that if he had overstepped his bounds, Snape would tell him to mind his business.

Snape surprised him by answering.

"Over the past year I had little choice but to allow Dumbledore access to my thoughts and memories as an assurance that nothing of import was being omitted or forgotten during my meetings with the Dark Lord, but no more. Those days are done," Snape said with a fierce sense of either relief or anger - Harry couldn't tell.

Recalling Snape's tight-lipped expression that day, Harry tested his luck.

"You two were arguing before I showed up..."

"We were discussing how best to execute your training."

Harry's lips canted upward. "Well, when you were... discussing my training, why did he want me to charge full steam ahead, but you didn't?"

"Potter, while our purposes are essentially the same, the headmaster has his unique way of handling things, and I have mine - that should not be surprising."

"What's your purpose?"

Tilting his head, Snape studied Harry until the boy began to blush. Finally, Snape said, "Keeping you safe."

With that, he rose to go to his room.

When Snape's bedroom door snap closed, Harry lay back on the sofa, considering the man's words.

*WO

Soth-ince Den, Lizard Point, July 1996 (29)

The storm broke just before sundown, just as Snape and Harry were wrapping up another intense training session. Working alongside the cottage, they made use of the wide open space that had been a paddock. Rotted fence remnants, along with a protection spell cast by Snape, established a perfect boundary for them to work. Snape had magically sheared a variety of dead limbs from oaks in the grove out back of the garden to test Harry's success in setting them afire casting Incendio, as well as his ability to put them out with Aguamenti. He was becoming quite accomplished when Snape sighted thunderclouds racing inland from the sea.

As they ran, the wind gusted. A brilliant lightning strike streaked spiderlike across the rapidly darkening sky, followed by an ear-splitting clap of thunder. Steps away from the cottage, a fierce downpour began. Snape reached the door first and held it open for Harry to sprint in past him. Another bone-rattling boom of thunder sent Fang to his feet, whining and spinning in circles beneath his window.

"It's okay, boy," Harry said. Fang wagged his tail gratefully as the drenched boy knelt down to scrub his neck.

"Go put on some dry clothes."

Snape had shucked his outer robes to hang on the cloak rack, revealing black trousers and a damp, white oxford. In all their time together, Harry had never seen what Snape wore beneath his robes.

"But Fang -" The dog whimpered at the sound of his name.

"Go on," Snape said, pitching his chin toward the hall.

In his room, Harry grumbled and silently mocked Snape as he hurriedly peeled off his wet things, leaving them in a soggy heap on the floor. He yanked on a pair of sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt - his standard sleepwear - before padding back out to the sitting room. Snape, now completely dry, was lying stretched out on the sofa, long stockinged feet crossed at the ankles, a book propped open on his stomach. A tempered fire blazed pleasantly in the fireplace; in front of it laid a calm Fang.

"You left your clothes on the floor." Snape's eyes never left his book.

"Er..." Harry said.

Snape looked up and Harry turned on his heel to stomp back to his room where he quickly hurled his soaked things over the back of his desk chair. Back in the sitting room, he shot Snape a look before plopping down on the floor beside Fang. Leaning against the sofa on the pillows Snape had set aside, he rested a hand on Fang's chest; the dog acknowledged his presence with a thump of his tail.

As the tumult raged outside, Harry shuddered, suddenly wondering if Hagrid was okay.

"Did Dumbledore say anything to you about what Hagrid is doing?" Harry said.

Fang's tail thumped double-time at the mention of his master.

"Hagrid is a capable member of the Order."

"So was Remus," Harry pointed out. "I just don't want anything to happen to him." He heard the snap of Snape closing his book and turned his head to look at him.

"What do you know of the night of your rescue?"

"Dumbledore told me that Tonks and that Podmore bloke were guarding me when those Death Eaters showed up," Harry said with a shiver. "Then Remus and the others came. They were all acting so weird... especially Remus. I didn't know it was because of Tonks and Podmore."

"Lupin wasn't only upset because of the loss of two Order members. He had... feelings for that clumsy witch."

Harry stared. "Remus and Tonks?!"

"Yes."

"Wow..."

"Indeed," Snape said, with a dismissive sneer.

Harry frowned, annoyed. If Remus had been happy with Tonks, Harry was glad of it.

"You needn't be so cold about it!"

Snape regarded him coolly and said, "Statement of fact does not amount to being cold, Potter. The girl was infinitely clumsy."

"So you think that's what got her killed? Clumsiness? She was killed protecting me!"

"Yes, Potter, and as unfortunate as that is, it is the way of things in war!" Snape declared, sitting up, slamming his book down on the table.

Harry recoiled as if he had been slapped. Hauntingly, Sirius's words to the Weasley children the night Mr. Weasley was attacked in the Department of Mysteries came back to him.

‘Your father knew what he getting into, and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order! This is how it is - this is why you're not in the Order - you don't understand - there are things worth dying for!'

Harry's eyes suddenly filled with tears. The losses, the responsibility, the looming uncertainty; when would it end?

"I don't want to do this," he muttered. "Why aren't you - I need... I can't do this by myself! Why didn't... Why didn't you help him?"

"Who?" Snape asked, confused.

"Sirius!"

Snape muttered an oath as Harry leaned forward, rested his head on his knees and began to cry. Fang rose to lick the back of the boy's neck comfortingly. After a moment, Snape encircled Harry's shoulders with his hands.

"Come, Potter," he said, encouraging Harry up onto the sofa.

"Y-you hated him, just like you hate me!" Harry cried, slumping against the man, oblivious to the contradictory nature of his words and actions. "You didn't want to help him..."

"Hush!" Snape pulled Harry around to face him. "Look at me."

Harry shook his head, desperate to avoid Snape's eyes. He tried to shrug out of Snape's grip, but the man took his face in his hands, forcing eye contact, immersing Harry in a memory.

*"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" said Snape.

"Ah, Professor Snape," said Umbridge. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quick as you can, please."

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," he said. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

"You can make some more, can't you?" Umbridge said.

"Certainly," said Snape, his lip curling. "It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

"A month?" squawked Umbridge. "A month? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using my fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!"

"Really?" said Snape, showing his first, faint sign of interest as he looked around at Harry. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules."

 "I wish to interrogate him!" repeated Umbridge angrily, and Snape looked away from Harry back into her furiously quivering face. "I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!"

"I have already told you," said Snape smoothly, "that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter - and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did - I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling..."

"You are on probation!" shrieked Professor Umbridge, and Snape looked back at her, his eyebrows slightly raised. "You are being deliberately unhelpful! I expected better, Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave.

"He's got Padfoot!" Harry shouted. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"

Snape had stopped with his hand on Umbridge's door handle.

"Padfoot?" cried Professor Umbridge. "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden?  What does he mean, Snape?"

"I have no idea," said Snape coldly. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I shall have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job."

He closed the door behind him with a snap...*

After hearing Potter's cryptic, yet surprisingly well-crafted statement, Snape quickly made his way to the Room of Requirement which transformed into his office - difference being that the Floo here was open, operational and undetectable. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it down.

"Number twelve Grimmauld Place!" When the long kitchen table came into view, Snape barked, "Black!"

When there was no immediate response, he counted to five.

"Black!" he shouted, again, impatient now and more than a trifle alarmed.

Surely the impetuous imbecile had not indeed rushed off to the Ministry? Then came the sound of the kitchen door slamming open. Seconds later, Sirius's grizzled face appeared; he had a filthy rag in his hand.

"Snape," he growled. "What do you want?" Then anxiously, he quickly inquired, "Is Harry all right?"

"He is under the delusion that you are in mortal peril," Snape drawled, eyeing the rag in Sirius's hand. "Obviously the only thing you are remotely in danger of... is dust."

"Listen Seve -"

"DON'T! The boy is fine, you needn't concern yourself!"

"But -" was all Sirius was able to utter before Snape severed the communication by taking his head out of the flames.  

He rose quickly, anxious to return to Umbridge's office. He silently cursed the brainless conspirators from his own House and their utter stupidity in detaining the wayward Gryffindors and Ravenclaw for that ruthless witch.

On the way back, he heard what sounded like a herd of hippogriffs on the staircase below him. He leaned over the landing and spotted the instantly recognizable heads of the Weasley boy and his sister barreling down the stairs. The dirty blond head surely belonged to the Lovegood girl, and the graceless boy trailing the pack was Longbottom. Snape's eyes narrowed with curiosity. Potter wasn't with them, leaving him to wonder what had become of the boy as well as his Slytherins.

The door to Umbridge's office was wide open when he arrived. Inside, he found his students crumpled on the floor, afflicted with a variety of hexes. It took only a moment to sort out the bedraggled teens as the Gryffindors had obviously cast the hexes hurriedly. While effectively putting the Slytherins out of commission, the magic would have worn off shortly without his intervention.

"Where is the headmistress?" Snape snapped at the moaning students, disentangling themselves to stand up.

"The Mudblood said something about a weapon in the forest. She, Potter and the headmistress went out there." Malfoy groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

Snape nearly snorted with exasperation, knowing full well there was no ‘weapon' in the Forbidden Forest. He wondered why would the little fools would lead Umbridge there of all places?

"Soon as they left," Bulstrode chimed in, "that little Weasley bint kicked me! She had a wand hidden somewhere..."

Draco snorted with disgust. "She didn't have anything hidden; she just bested you and took your wand Bulstrode."

"Piss off Malfoy," she snarled.

"Get back to your rooms!" Snape spat, putting an end to the tiff. "Should you leave them again tonight, you'll not see a Quidditch match, take a trip to Hogsmeade, nor spend a night doing anything other than Filch's bidding the entirety of next year!"

He eyed the four students sharply as they quickly scurried out, horrified at the threat, or in Snape's case, promise, of keeping Filch company next term. Trailing them, he watched to ensure that they were indeed headed toward the Slytherin common room. Once, they were out of sight, he fled outside.

The Gryffindors and Luna were nowhere to be found on the grounds leading up to the forest. He quickly traversed the forest's perimeter then cautiously probed its dark interior before concluding they had gone. Not for the first time that night he growled with frustration, realizing that Potter must have led them to the Ministry. Emerging from the forest, he sprinted to Hagrid's hut to warn the Order.

 

The vision ended abruptly and Harry sat back, astonished at what he had seen.

"Why?" He had to catch his breath; his heart was in his throat after seeing Sirius.

Snape crossed his arms over his chest. "You need to know that I was not responsible for what happened to your godfather. To think otherwise is counter-productive."

"But, Sirius -"

"- did exactly as he wanted... as always!" Snape growled, getting to his feet he began to pace back and forth before the coffee table.

Harry frowned, confused. "Then, why did you do it? Why did you go check on him?"

Snape sighed exasperatedly. "Because, Potter, Black treated directives as considerately as a two year-old treats a cat! I wouldn't have been surprised if he had been at the Ministry, especially if he thought you were in danger..." Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, agitated. "He wasn't to leave the safety of that house! Dumbledore had instructed him that regardless of anything he heard he was not to leave that house!"

"How do I know what you showed me is real?" Harry demanded, thinking Snape's explanation terribly convenient.

"You don't," Snape said. He stopped pacing to eye Harry beadily. "But, I daresay, even the dullest Gryffindor would be able to discern a false memory. It's consciously fabricated as it is related and is never as fluid as a true one."

"Well, it's been your job for the past year to be an expert liar," Harry pointed out stubbornly. "Now, you want me to believe that you actually checked on Sirius and warned the Order that we'd gone to the Ministry?"

"Potter, how do you think they knew to go to the Ministry that night?" Snape snarled. "I can quite guarantee you none of them possess Trelawney's ‘inner eye'!"

Harry opened his mouth, desperate for a reason - any reason - the Order had turned up without being forewarned by Snape. Dumbledore couldn't have done it; he had shown up even after the Order had arrived, and no one else knew Harry and the others had been detained in Umbridge's office - except Snape.

Slowly, Harry shut his mouth, realizing that while accepting that Snape had spied for the Order had been difficult to swallow, believing that he had actually gone to check on Sirius was near impossible.

Snape and Sirius had hated each other with a frightening intensity. Their violent clash when Snape stopped by Grimmauld Place to tell Harry that he would be instructing him in Occlumency had been enough to convince him that Snape and Sirius need never share space - ever. As a consequence, blaming Snape had assuaged much of Harry's guilt over Sirius's death; he was unprepared to bear the burden alone.

Reading Harry's expression, Snape said, "I know what you're thinking, and you bear as much responsibility for Black's death as I do, Potter."

Harry shuddered at the implication. "I don't need your sympathy," he spat.

Snape bristled. "You don't know what you need. You rush off to the Ministry with no idea of what you are getting yourself and your schoolmates into. You mope about eating an amount a mouse would have trouble subsisting off of, as what, punishment? Atonement? Are you truly so overly concerned with others that your welfare means so little?"

Harry exploded. "That's rich coming from you who has done nothing these past five years but accuse me of being some over-blown glory hound! And, if anybody needs atonement, it's probably you!"

Snape fell back a step, his face gone the color of curdled milk. After a stunned moment, he collected himself, his eyes reflecting flint. He leveled his shoulders, inhaled deeply, and turned on his heel to leave.

Inexplicably, it wasn't Snape's deadly cold expression that terrified Harry, but the sight of Snape's back. With a distinct sense of unease, Harry realized that over the weeks, something had shifted; silently, stealthily, and wholly unwarranted. Supremely skilled at circumventing a reality where Snape hated him, and he hated Snape, Harry watched that stiff, black clad back in bitter wonderment, thinking his current situation unfair.

Within a matter of weeks, Sirius and Remus had been cruelly wrenched from his life; he now had to rely on someone, who, two months ago, he wouldn't have entrusted to look after his cousin, Dudley; and he had defied Dumbledore, the man who had often shielded Harry from the man who was now raising such an emotional alarm within him. It unsettled Harry, revealing a depth of feeling he refused to face.

Hoping to dam those emotions, and sensing weakness in Snape, he taunted, "Something I said?"

Snape stopped and turned to face Harry. His black eyes sparked with anger.

"You conceited little snot! How dare you! You think the deaths of those close to you entitle you to behave like a mindless miscreant, doing and saying whatever you want, whenever you want, no matter how foul? Let me again disabuse you of the notion that as your caretaker -"

Harry jumped to his feet, pointing angrily at Snape. "I don't need anyone to take care of me! I damn sure don't want you to do it!"

"Unfortunately, you now have no choice in the matter!"

"Yes I do! I'll... I'll run away!"

"Oh, yes," Snape hissed, "straight into the Dark Lord's eager hands..."

"What about my powers?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Potter, go to bed." He turned to walk away.

Infuriated by Snape's blasé attitude, Harry raised his hands so that a strong gust of wind lifted the man's hair, swirling it about his face. Snape whipped around to grab Harry, gripping his hands so tightly together the boy couldn't move.

"You fool!" Cold fury distorted Snape's face.

"Le' me go!" Harry struggled fiercely within the man's grasp. "I... don't... need... you!"

"Potter, you've no idea how to control your emotions, therefore you shall never learn to control your powers - not when it counts! So tell me exactly how it is that you don't need me?" Snape glared at him, jaw clenched.

"I can learn to control them just fine on my own!"

"Yes, if indeed you strive to pepper the countryside with purple-leafed trees, song-less birds and dogs that can't bark!"

Harry reddened at the memory of those blunders. "Not happy unless you're putting somebody down, are you?"

"It does make for a more compelling conversation."

Harry wrenched free of Snape's hold and sneered. "If Sirius were here he'd -"

"He is not here..."

"If he were, he'd -"

"He... is... not... here, IDIOT BOY!" Snape thundered.

The room reverberated with the sound as Snape hovered over Harry, slightly crazed. But, at Harry's cowed expression, Snape closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a tight line.

Harry had borne enough of Snape's colorful insults that the words mostly rolled off his back; but this time, for whatever reason, the word ‘boy' had felt as blunt as a kick in the gut, making him feel small, worthless, burdensome. His limbs were suddenly unwieldy and limp. Exhausted, he lowered his head, barely managing to stumble over to the sofa. His eyes fluttered closed as Snape stalked out of the room.

Hearing the back door open and close, Harry breathed out a shaky sigh of relief that Snape was gone; but it was short-lived. Moments later he opened his eyes to watch Snape move the club chair close to sit before him. He had a vial in hand.

"What's that?" Harry pressed back against the sofa, trying to appear unafraid.

"It is a potion which shall bring to the surface all that you have been suppressing. I shall not allow you to regress to the state you were in following Lupin's death."

"I'm not taking it!" Harry said, bursting with renewed, but frightened energy.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Very well... I'll slip it into your pumpkin juice one day without your knowledge."

Harry considered the dispassionate man before him and didn't doubt that he would follow through with his threat. He angrily snatched the vial from Snape's outstretched fingers and downed the contents in one gulp, grimacing at the acrid after taste.

The potion's effects were immediate. Harry clutched his stomach as an intense cramp ripped through him.

"The pain will pass. Breathe easy," Snape said, leaning forward.

"No!" Harry moaned, his eyes watering. "It hurts..."

"Potter, the effects will fade after a -"

Harry screamed. Fang's head shot up from his spot on the floor and the boarhound stood up, howling mournfully. Snape snapped his fingers at the dog and Fang quieted, but he kept watchful eyes on Harry as the boy began to sob.

Misty images of the dead began to float through Harry's mind, sometimes twining together. A chorus of voices merged, indecipherable, though at times clearly calling out to him.

‘Harry! Take my body back!'

"No!" Harry groaned. "You weren't supposed to be there! I'm sorry... I shouldn't a made you take that s-stupid cup with me! Please... I'm sorry!"

Another groan... A distorted trio blurred into prominence, mouths grotesquely distended as they shouted and gesticulated wildly. Two large blobs accompanied by a narrower one took clear shape; their cruel words cut him deeply.

‘...stand there, in the clothes Petunia and I have put on your ungrateful...'

‘Who's Cedric? Your boyfriend?'

‘...I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as - as - abnormal -‘

"You never wanted me - now you're gone and all I have is this... stupid guilt. You weren't my f-family... I was worse than a s-stranger to you!"

Still yelling, Vernon Dursley bristled at a disturbance behind him. A tall figure was smiling broadly, beaming as it boldly floated through a screeching Petunia. Translucent gray eyes, sparkling with equal parts joy and mischief, framed by thick black hair... Harry fought desperately against the naked emotions now rising to the surface, against that familiar creeping ache choking at his heart, trying to crush him from within.

NO! That wound was too fresh, too open, and raw.

"Potter, stop fighting it!"

‘Harry!'

Harry balled his hands into fists. His face purpled with the effort to squelch the pain that was twisting his heart.

"I don't want to!" He jumped to his feet as if to run away, and instantly doubled over, clutching at his stomach as the same piercing pain from earlier struck him again. Snape stood, too.

‘Harry?'

In agony, Harry rocked forward until his head butted Snape in the stomach. Snape reached for Harry's shoulders, trying to straighten him up, but it was like trying to bend a steel post. Instead, he pushed Harry back onto the sofa and sat next to him. Feeling the warmth of Snape's body beside him, Harry leaned into it.

"What am I supposed to do?" he cried. "I'm alone. I had you... I had you and... I as good as k-killed you. I wanted to help... and it just all went s-so wrong!"

‘Oh, Harry, you're not alone. I'm with you, always with you. What happened, it was dumb luck. Wrong place, wrong time, absolutely wrong, bloody cousin... Not your fault!'

Harry looked up at Snape. The man bit his tongue at the crushing sight of Harry's green eyes, glazed over with unbearable suffering.

"But, I need you," Harry whispered, "I didn't want you to go, p-please believe me I didn't mean it!"

‘I know you didn't want me to go! I didn't want to be parted from you, either! But, Harry, you don't need me in the way that you think.'

"You should still be here to help me, because I'm not going to s-survive, I'm not! They all expect me to... It's just t-too much. How can I beat him when I d-don't know how?!"

‘Everything you need, you have... You will be fine. Both of you will be fine.'

"Both? Wha-what do you mean?"

‘I'm so proud... Give... us my love.'

"Wait! Don't go! NO!"

 ‘...wish ...stay...'

The mist broke apart.

Though the pain subsided just as quickly as it had come, Harry was oblivious to the change. Devastated, he buried his face in Snape's chest and sobbed. Through the hitches and hiccups, he scarcely felt the feather-like touches on his cheek or heard the soft biddings to ‘Hush' and ‘Go to sleep, Harry', before succumbing to his exhaustion.