MINDSCAPE - The Healing Journey by chrmisha
Summary: When an Occlumency lesson goes wrong, Snape learns more about Harry’s past than he ever wanted to—and it changes everything. But change doesn’t come easily, especially for two who have spent five years loathing each other’s very existence. Can Snape and Harry come to a mutual understanding of sorts to defeat their greatest enemy—themselves? Spring of 5th year, A/U. Completely written and posted in chapter installments.
Categories: Healer Snape, Teacher Snape > Trusted Mentor Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required), Hermione, Original Character
Snape Flavour: Snape is Angry, Canon Snape, Snape Comforts, Snape is Kind, Snape is Stern
Genres: Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Injured!Harry, Snape-meets-Dursleys
Takes Place: 5th Year
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Physical Punishment Spanking, Neglect, Rape, Romance/Het, Torture, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 40 Completed: Yes Word count: 98424 Read: 234351 Published: 26 May 2017 Updated: 31 Oct 2017
Chapter 31 by chrmisha

“Covey, wake up,” Snape said, shaking the witch in his bed gently.

Covey opened an eye and looked at him. Her blue-tipped blonde hair was in spiky disarray, her spaghetti strap nightgown had slipped down over one shoulder, and she looked sexy as hell. He pushed the distracting thought away. Now was not the time.

“Harry needs you.”

Seeming to finally get her wits about her, she sat up. “What‘s happened? Is he all right?”

“He will be fine. He fell and broke his nose. I could fix it but you will do a much more thorough job.”

Covey nodded, standing and slipping on her dressing gown.

Snape flopped back on the bed. “He showed me the memory of how… how he died. When he was nine. From that head injury.” Snape swallowed. “We can now add attempted murder to Vernon Dudley’s charges,” Snape said grimly.

“Oh, Sevvie,“ Covey said, shaking her head as tears sprung to her eyes. “That poor child,” she lamented. “At least he has us now,” Covey said, laying her hand on Snape’s shoulder.

A crushing weight of guilt lashed at Snape. Did Harry have him now? Harry had asked Snape to leave. Snape hadn’t known what to do; he wasn’t good at these things. Emotions were a liability he couldn’t afford, and the whiplash of teenage emotions was even worse.

Swallowing around a lump in his throat, Snape rasped, “Go to him.”


“Harry?” Covey asked, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Are ye all right?”

Harry tensed momentarily and then relaxed. “My nose is broken, I think,” he said. The swelling and congestion of that alone would cover his crying.

“Aye, Sevvie told me,” Covey relayed. “Why donna ye lay back an’ relax, aye? I’ll fix ye right up.”

Harry uncoiled himself and lay on his back, trying to calm his breathing. He focused on the way Covey laid her hands on his chest, humming. Slowly, they moved up his body, his neck, his jaw, to rest on his cheeks, under his eyes, then the bridge of his nose. Her touch was gentle and warm, her healing magic making his skin tingle. He felt the bones reassemble and slide back into place, mending themselves. When the tingling sensation receded, he knew she’d healed him, but for some reason, she didn’t take her hands away. Instead, she moved to his head and then slowly back down his face, to his shoulders, his collarbones, finally coming to rest over his heart.

“I’m sorry yer hurtin’, Harry. I wish I could make it easier fer ye, ye ken?” Covey sighed deeply. “It does get a wee bit easier with time, tho, I promise ye that.”

Harry said nothing. Things never got easier for him. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another. And there was still Voldemort out there, wanting to kill him.

“Get yerself some sleep, aye Harry?”

“Sure. Thanks for healing me, Covey. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Yer welcome an’ it was nae bother,” she said.

Harry felt her brush his forehead before she left.


Harry awoke the next morning to muted orange rays of sunlight streaming in through his charmed window. It had to be charmed, since he was in the dungeons and no real windows would show him the view he had. He sat on the edge of the bed, noticing the colors of his room in Snape’s quarters: the dark wood tones, the muted blues, the soft grays.

He should be ecstatic that his sight had returned and that it was, in fact, clearer than he could ever remember. When Covey had healed him, she must have managed to fix his vision as well, for he didn’t need his glasses any longer. This alone should have made him euphoric.

But all he could think about was that now that he could see, he’d have to leave. And once Snape knew he could see, any illusions about Snape caring about his wellbeing would evaporate, if they hadn’t already. He’d hoped Snape would come back in the night and talk to him. Tell him he cared. Tell him that Harry’d been wrong about him. But Snape hadn’t come back. And Harry hadn’t seen him yet this morning.

Sighing in resignation, Harry got up and walked to his doorway. If nothing else, he knew he needed to find the man and ask to restart Occlumency lessons. The dreams had returned with a vengeance, and he knew he was supposed to stop seeing these things. If someone could only tell him why, it might give him more motivation, but as it was, no one wanted him to know anything.

He forced his feet forward, finding Snape sitting at the breakfast nook, Daily Prophet in one hand, coffee in another.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape said, setting down his things and standing immediately to help guide Harry into a chair to sit.

Harry hesitated. “That isn’t necessary, sir,” Harry said, and it broke his heart to say it. “I can see again.”

Snape froze, looking closely at Harry.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” Snape said.

“Seven,” Harry replied.

“How many now?”

“None,” Harry said, “your thumb isn’t a finger.”

Snape’s eyebrows raised. “Where are your glasses?”

“I don’t seem to need them anymore.”

“Congratulations, Mr. Potter. You must be ecstatic.”

Harry nodded, reaching for the pitcher of orange juice, Snape’s favorite breakfast beverage, and pouring himself a glass, then adding eggs and sausage to his plate.

“For someone who’s just regained his vision, you don’t seem very happy,” Snape observed.

Harry shrugged. “I suppose I can return to Gryffindor tower now.”

“I will speak with the headmaster forthwith,” Snape informed him, “and have your belongings removed to there immediately.”

Harry nodded again. This was what he wanted. Of course this was what he wanted. So why were tears gathering in his eyes? Snape was dismissing him once again, as if he wasn’t worth the air he breathed. Why couldn’t one person, any person, find him worthy?

Harry pushed back his chair and bolted from the table. He would not cry in front of Snape, not again.


Snape sat, taken aback. What in Merlin’s name was that about? Should he go after the boy? Should he give the child space? He hated this and he didn’t know what to do.

Covey had had an early breakfast and had left to take care of some of her other patients. She would have known what to do. Here alone in his kitchen, Snape was at a loss. And he was due to teach in twenty minutes. Shaking his head, he got up from the table to dress for class and resigned himself to talk to the boy that evening, even if he had to give him detention to do so.


Snape’s morning classes had just ended when an alarm went off in his office. Potter? Why was Potter in his office? Snape hadn’t had the chance to talk to the headmaster yet about the teen moving back to Gryffindor tower. So Potter should have been in Snape’s quarters.

Snape hurried to his office to find the boy pacing in front of Snape’s desk, wearing his school uniform. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes,” the boy stated, not making eye contact. “I need to restart Occlumency lessons.”

“Alright,” Snape said, unsure of why this was so critical at this very moment.

“I’ve started dreaming about the corridor again, but now the door is open. I know I’m not supposed to go through it, but it’s a dream, and how am I supposed to stop myself?”

“By not allowing those thoughts to enter your dreams,” Snape said sharply. He was surprised at how far the boy had got and he was not the least bit happy about it.

“So you’ll teach me, then,” Potter said.

Snape ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, of course I’ll teach you. Be ready tonight after dinner.”

“Okay,” Harry said, still not looking at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Harry,” Snape said and then hesitated. He wanted to make amends for whatever he had done to upset the boy. He wasn’t quite sure how to go about it, though. “I am glad you came to me. With this. I will help you however I can.”

The boy nodded.

Snape wasn’t sure what else to say. He glanced down and caught sight of the boy’s bare shins. He glanced back up abruptly, realizing how much closer the boy was to his height now. “It looks like it is time for some new trousers.”

Harry smiled slightly and looked a bit awkward. “Covey was right. She said I’d probably grow after she healed me. It’s nice not to be so short anymore. Although, as you said, I will need to get some new clothes.”


Ron had come for breakfast but Harry hadn’t felt up to seeing his friends, so he pretended to be asleep. Ron had made a half-hearted attempt at waking him. Harry had mumbled something about being awake all night and to come back at lunch. Thankfully, Ron had left.

Much to Harry’s surprise, he fell back asleep after Ron left. He dreamed of walking down a long dark corridor. There was a door at the end of the hall and light spilled out from around its edges. Instinctively, he was drawn to that light, as if something was beckoning him forward. As he stepped closer, the door swung open, light flooding the corridor.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust and, once they did, he saw that door opened into a circular room with other, identical doors leading off of the circle in all directions. He faltered at the open doorway, feeling the need to go forward but not sure which door to take. Just as he was about to take a step forward, Earl Grey leapt onto his chest, startling him awake.

Harry opened his eyes to find the cat staring down at him, a dead mouse dangling from its jaws.

“Ack!” Harry shouted, shoving the cat to the floor. Then he felt guilty. “Sorry, Earl Grey. I know you just wanted to show off your prize. You did good,” Harry said, reaching out to scratch the cat’s ears. “I’d rather not watch you eat that, though.”

By the time he returned from the loo, Earl Grey had taken her snack elsewhere.

Glumly, he headed over to his trunk and threw it open. He started pulling his clothes out of the wardrobe and throwing them into his trunk. He saved one pair of trousers and a button down shirt to wear, along with his robes, back to Gryffindor tower. It would be the first time he wore more formal clothes, as he’d been pretty much living in pajamas, Dudley’s oversized clothes, or the odd outfits Dobby had picked out for him. Seeing those outfits now, in all their eye-watering glory, made Harry laugh.

He picked up his school clothes and headed for the shower. He needed to talk to Snape about Occlumency. He had thought long and hard about his strained relationship with the Potions professor. The man was fickle and moody, and could be distant at times. But overall, since Harry’s childhood had come to light, Snape had been there for him, even if it was in Snape’s own, sometimes impatient, way. When Harry was able to step back from his own emotions, he realized that Snape had been trying, and that Snape was likely as confused about how to deal with Harry as Harry was at reading Snape.

Snape was still alive, still present, as was Covey, and Harry didn’t want to lose the rare adults in his life who actually seemed to care for him. If it hadn’t been for Snape, Harry wouldn’t have made it through this year. He knew that. He wouldn’t be where he was now. Snape was far from perfect, but then Harry wasn’t perfect himself. So if Snape was still willing to help him, Harry was willing to let him. Merlin knew that few enough adults in his life showed any inclination to.  

Harry was back in his rooms in Snape’s quarters by the time that Ron and Hermione came for lunch. He was wearing his too-short trousers—which he hoped Hermione could fix with a spell until he got new ones—and his school robes, as he would be moving back to Gryffindor tower as soon as Snape spoke with Dumbledore. He had his glasses and his wand in his pocket. He sat at the table, reading through his astronomy text while he waited for his friends to arrive.

Hermione stepped through the Floo first, followed by Ron. Harry watched as Hermione took in the open wardrobe, which was now empty, and the overstuffed trunk.

“Harry? Is everything all right?”

Harry stood, facing his two best friends, a genuine smile on his face. Warmth filled his chest at the sight of them. He hadn’t precisely forgotten what they’d looked like during the time he was blind, but it was certainly nice to be able to see them again. “Everything is brilliant,” he said.

Hermione’s hands flew to her mouth. “Can you… Harry, can you see again?”

Harry nodded.

Hermione flung herself at Harry, and Harry barely got his arms around her to catch. She hugged him tightly. “I am so happy for you,” she gushed.

Ron shook himself from his surprised stupor and stepped forward, clapping Harry on the back. “Well, I bet you didn’t miss my ugly mug.”

Harry laughed. “I did, actually.” Harry glanced at Hermione who was looking at him strangely. “What?” he asked.

“You’ve grown. At first I thought the elves shrank your trousers, but you’re taller than me now!”

“Blimey, Harry,” Ron said, “Hermione’s right. You are taller.”

Hermione grabbed Ron by the arm. “Ron, stand next to Harry so I can see who is taller.”

Ron obeyed and the two boys stood shoulder to shoulder.

“Ron is still taller, but only by a couple of inches,” Hermione observed. “And Ron’s at least six inches taller than me!”

“Hermione,” Harry asked, “do you know a spell to lengthen my trousers until I can get new ones?”

“I do,” Hermione said, waving her wand in a complicated motion. “There,” she said, satisfied. “That should last for a little while.”

“My mum needs to learn that spell,” Ron said.

“I’m sure she knows it,” Hermione said. “But as it weakens the fabric, it can’t be used long term. That’s why Harry will still need to buy new trousers as soon as possible.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something else, and then paused. Tilting her head in Harry’s direction, she said, “Where are your glasses?”

Harry smiled. “I don’t need them anymore.”

“What?” Ron gasped.

“Why?” Hermione asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “I reckon that when Covey healed me, she healed my eyesight, too.”

“Wicked,” Ron said.

Hermione patted him on the shoulder. “That’s great, Harry. You must be really pleased.”

Harry nodded.

“So you get to leave the greasy git’s place now, right?” Ron asked. “Now that you can see again, and all.”

Harry nodded again.

“I can’t imagine having to live with him,” Ron said with a shudder.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Harry said. “Actually, it was kind of nice.”

“Have you gone mental?” Ron asked.

“Look,” Harry said. “I got my own set of rooms that I didn’t have to share, you two could come and go as you pleased, Dobby brought me all my favorite foods, and I got a cat,” Harry said, walking over to his bed to pick up Earl Grey, who purred happily in his arms.

“Yeah, but Snape…” Ron said.

“Snape’s been pretty decent to me,” Harry said. “Granted, he’s not the most friendly person, but he’s been there for me when I needed him.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said. “You haven’t said so I had hoped they were getting better. Are you still having nightmares and flashbacks?”

Harry looked away. “They come and go.”

“Well,” Hermione said, giving Ron a dirty look, “I’m glad Snape was here to help you with them.”

“Me too,” Ron said begrudgingly. “And you can always come to us, too, if you need anything.”

“I know,” Harry said. “I don’t know how I’d have made it through everything without the two of you.”

Hermione’s eyes grew misty.

“Buck up, Hermione. It’s not like Harry’s dying.”

Hermione punched Ron playfully in the shoulder.

“Food’s getting cold,” Ron said. “Shall we eat?”

They all took their seats. Hermione poured everyone pumpkin juice while Ron heaped his plate with roast chicken and fried potatoes.

“When will you move back to Gryffindor tower?” Hermione asked.

“Either this afternoon, or maybe after Occlumency lessons tonight,” Harry surmised.

“You still have to take Occlumency?” Ron asked.

“Voldemort is still breaking into my dreams, so yeah, I reckon I should.”

“Better you than me, mate,” Ron said as he bit into a roasted chicken leg.

 “Maybe it won’t be so bad now that you and Snape are getting along better,” Hermione said.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Harry said.

Ron snorted. “I can’t imagine Snape being anything other than an arrogant bastard.” When Hermione gave him a dirty look, Ron threw his hands up and said, “But, hey, what do I know?”

The End.


This story archived at http://www.potionsandsnitches.org/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=3401