Dear Mr. Snape,

We have received intelligence that you disobeyed the instructions of The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts at thirty-one past eight this morning.

The severity of this breach of the first Educational Decree for Hogwarts has resulted in firing.

Following discussions with the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself at a probation.

With best wishes ,

Yours sincerely,

Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor of Hogwarts

Severus Snape was angry.

No… he was livid. The letter from the ministry had arrived in the very same evening of the incident and was the reason he had interrupted the closed staff meeting of the leading echelons – Albus, Minerva and the toad. The insolent, pompous owl of the Ministry had landed into his private quarters merely half an hour ago. It took him seven shots of his finest bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky and five smashed jars in order to be ready to face the world again.

His obsidian, piercing eyes stood in contrast to his flushed face and dizzy steps as he scanned the staff room, searching for the dreadful hag. He sneered with disdain. She was absent, presumably because she knew what his reaction will be.

The note in his hand went up in blue flames. It was not a game anymore.

"Severus?" Asked Minerva, laying her hand on his arm softly. He shook her off.

"I will incinerate that hag." He growled, pacing around the room. "I swear to Merlin, she will be reduced to ashes. Not before I turn her into a phoenix, just to perpetuate her anguish and agony. I will fill bottles with her tears to heal Potter, form wands from her feathers for him and the insolent twats in his fan club. Her dirty laundry will be aired on each newspaper, her most shameful secrets written inside a book by Rita Skeeter! Chaos will rule at the school, all under the name and responsibility of the almighty inquisitor!"

 "Severus, sit down and explain to us what happened before you dig a hole in the floor." Ordered Albus, his eyes becoming harsher and his frown deepening as Severus described the last events.

"This is bad." He remarked. "When the rumors will reach Voldemort… Perhaps it's the time... You're walking on a thin ice, Severus, and your pacing doesn't contribute to the situation at all." Albus looked straight at him, ice-blue struggling against dark brown. Severus tried to suppress the flinch which was embedded in him through Cruciatus curses nineteen years ago, reaction to the Dark Lord's name and what the Headmaster implied.

The Headmaster broke the eye contact first, unable to gaze into the deep tunnles of surpressed emotions, a window to a broken soul.

"No. I'll handle it, Headmaster." He declared dutifully. He had made this mess and he will clean it up.

"I know you will, my boy. However, I intend to postpone this moment as much as I am able to, due to the fragile situation with the Department."

The Potions Master nodded sharply, beginning to feel a migraine forming. The Dark Lord demands to know when was a strategic member of the Order, such as Kingsley, is in custody of the entry to the Department of Mystery. He waits for a chance to catch two birds in one action; breaking in and weakening the Order. If Severus would bring him two failures at one meeting…

"Thus, trying to delay the hearsay, I believe that it is the time for you to begin teaching Harry Occlumency, immediately. It might leak through other students, but at least it won't reach Voldemort directly." Continued the Headmaster and Severus felt as if the two men which were drilling in his brain began tap dancing. He knew that this moment will come, yet…

"Today?" He asked, pinching his nose bridge. Albus nodded.

"I'll notify Harry." Minerva volunteered, her sharp eyes analyzing his state. "Don't worry, it won't be that bad." She assured and Severus wasn't sure if it was directed for his sake or Potter's, given both of them needed this blessing.

"Take care." She added, her tone lightly scolding, and he understood that she knew that he's drunk. He felt like when he was a new teacher again, after she told him that she had took the freedom to register him to abstinence from cigarettes.

He turned his back to her and walked the distance to the door in four quick strides, surprising himself that he was still standing. "You too." He answered stiffly and dismissed himself from the meeting he wasn't even invited to.

Harry was sitting in the common room next to Ron and Hermione, reading silently his Potions book. He had almost reached the end; the next pages were empty. The boy was dimly aware that his best friends were fighting (again) about something but he didn't care. It was one of his two evenings free of Umbridge each week and he wanted to exploit it as much as possible.

'Are you still mad at me, Lils?'

'Yes.'

'They're just kids, you know. Not the next Dark Lords…'

'There was a time when Voldemort was just a kid! And you know that I hate it when you call him the Dark Lord! You have their jargon! The day when you'll judge me for my Muggle parents will come!'

'If I wanted to ever judge you, I would've done it earlier. Who knows better than you which kind of muggles have I met in my life before your parents?'

'Oh, don't you dare to try to make me feel guilty. That's low.'

'Listen… You're right, okay? We'll work it out in the summer.'

Lily's cursive handwriting hadn't responded this note and Harry wondered what had dragged The Prince into the world of dark arts. Had his mother succeeded to save her friend? Harry's face brightened as the thought about Sirius had risen; he was from a dark family. Then, he reminded himself that he was James' best friend, not Lily's. And he was a pureblood.

But maybe, Sirius had a family member who wasn't pureblood… The Black family did live nearby muggles, not in one of London's finest areas. If Sirius had a bastard inside his family, it would explain the angst that the Prince had shown towards his family…

Of course, he must operate carefully. One of Umbridge's first Decrees allowed her to check the mail and Harry decided not to remind the book, the Prince or his mother in his letter.

"Harry, Professor McGonagall told me to remind you about your detention with Professor Snape at 20:30." Said Neville as he passed next to them and Harry mumbled an attentionless thanks.

"What detention?" Hermione suddenly asked, snapping her fingers in front of Harry's face in order to get his attention.

"W – what? Detention? I don't know." He answered honestly.

"Tough luck. You have forty minutes to find out." Ron remarked, but Harry just shrugged carelessly. "If McGonagall says, I won't skive…"

Hermione sighed and probably mumbled something about his sleep, but Harry once again was absorbed in planning his letter. Twenty minutes after he presented to Hermione and Ron his letter, waiting for their approval. After a few alterations that his friends (mostly Hermione, but Ron tuned the part on the purebloods' traditions), Harry was pleased to send the letter to his godfather.

Dear Padfoot,

How are you? Over here, things are a little bit different. The new Educational Decrees from the Ministry are keeping the order around here. I hope that the order is kept in your place as well.

I wondered if you could tell me a little bit about your family and brothers. I've heard that in many pureblooded families it's hard to find a traditionally satisfying match, how was it in your family? Kinda hoping you'll save me a conversation with your mother, since her condition doesn't allow her to be helpful these days…

Keep safe,

Harry.

"Let them examine the letter, girl. It's okay." He assured Hedwig as she gnawed some snacks from his hand and nibbled his ear. Hedwig looked at him with her wise, big yellow eyes and hooted.

Harry looked wearily at his watch. Ten minutes to the detention with Snape. Sighing, he walked towards the dungeons, to his teacher's office.

When he reached his destination, he pinched his palm to make sure he's focused and rapped on the door. No answer.

He tried again. "Professor?" he called loudly. Maybe something happened? "Come in!" He heard Snape, and so he did.

It seemed like Harry had entered a different room than the one he usually had spent his detentions over. This office was dimly lit by a hearth, almost bare of furniture. Snape was sitting behind a mahogany desk, on a black and tattered chair which seemed like the favorite chattel that everyone has. Harry wondered where should he sit; if he should. After scanning the strange room, he compromised on standing with his hands in his pockets, studying his shoes.

"Potter." Snape said his name and Harry raised his gaze to meet the Professor's. "Today, unfortunate to my classes, you will be denied of the opportunity to scrub cauldrons. A shame, really. I could've taught you about lifting a finger or two around the house, you boastful, presumptuous bastard." Snape held his eyes and smiled maliciously.

Harry was ready to snap back, but just as the fighting spirit came into Snape, it left him. The Professor sighed and tapped his fingers on the table, letting his gaze wonder around the room. As his eyes adjusted themselves to the darkness, Harry discovered a flush on the Potions Master's pale face.

Something strange was going on.

"No, Potter. You came here under the Headmaster's… wishes," he spat the word, disdainfully, "To learn the delicate art of… Occlumency. Have you heard of it before?"

Harry shook his head and surprisingly, Snape continued lecturing without any insult.

"It is the magical defense of the mind against external penetration, sealing it and preventing any magical intrusion or influence. An obscure branch of magic, but highly useful."

"Why does Professor Dumbledore think I need to learn it, sir?"

"To protect your mind from the magical connection between the Dark Lord and yourself. He is capable and, in fact, rather skilled in the art of Leglilimency – "

"What's that?"

"What's that, sir. It is the ability to extract feelings and memories from another person's mind – "

"He can read minds? Sir?" Asked Harry, his eyes widening, but Snape sighed again. "Potter, you foolish boy. The mind is not a book, but a complexed and multi-layered structure. At least… most of them are…" Snape smirked and glared at Harry with an indecipherable expression.

Harry involuntarily took a step backwards.

After a moment Snape's face drained into their usual emptiness. "Come here, Potter, we should start your training." He ordered sharply and Harry unwillingly walked towards the desk.

"We will start with the anatomical structure of your head and brain." Snape stood up, walking in front of Harry. His eyes glittered with the reflection of the fire in the hearth and Harry couldn't help but noticing that Snape was standing between him and the only exit from the room.

The boy sniffed the air and immediately understood what is wrong. How didn't he recognize the signs before? He had inhaled the very same smell, passively smoking from his cousin almost constantly during the last summer. The combination of alcohol, tobacco and sweat; "You're drunk, sir."

"Excellent observation, Potter." His teacher purred. "Sadly, not a single potions master had the foresight and acumen to interlace migraine and sobering potions without… undesirable consequences."

Harry understood half of the sentence that Snape said. Normal people tend to use simple words while drunk, but Snape seemed to be pouring a dictionary over him. He tried not to concentrate on the end of the sentence, which had reminded him of an outraged bat intimidating a toad. Which was why, once again, Harry stated the first thing that came to his mind.

"Uh, Professor. You are a potions master."

Snape's lips twitched upwards and he seemed thoughtful. "I am, am I?"

Abruptly, as he looked at the way that the older man pondered, Harry couldn't help but being reminded of Luna Lovegood. The pair of them couldn't be possibly more different, yet drunken Snape… Maybe with radish earrings… Harry couldn't help himself and snorted at that notion. It was enough to sharpen his teacher. "Shut up, Potter!" He cried out and continued the lecture as if he never paused.

"The brain is divided into five different lobes." Snape touched Harry's nape and the boy almost flinched. "Occipital lobe." He raised his hand through Harry's hair, ruffling it. "Parietal lobe." Snape moved his hand to the side of his head. "Temporal." He went back to the center, tapping twice on Harry's skull. "Limbic, deep inside." His finger moved towards Harry's forehead, stopping millimeters above the famous lightning scar. "And frontal."

The unexpected touch had shocked Harry and the table was the only thing which kept him from staggering backwards. The tug of his hair overwhelmed him, pulling a distant memory from his mind's abyss. Instantly after Snape removed his touch, Harry had picked himself up and threw the memory backwards into the darkest pit he could imagine inside his head, ignoring it.

And as the lecture went on, Harry realized three important anecdotes: Anatomy is fascinating, the human brain is a wonder and Snape can be a pretty decent teacher when he wants to. He had answered all – well, most of Harry's questions without mocking him, not even once(!).

"End of the lesson, Potter." Snape declared and Harry stood from his sitting spot on the table; despite Snape was pacing across the room all along, Harry hasn't dared to touch his favorite chair.

The boy walked to the door but stopped at the threshold, hesitating. He took a deep breath; he was a Gryffindor for a reason.

"The lesson was tolerable, sir." He squeaked and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him.

The Professor stared at the closed door for a few moments, and the thing that occurred next was beyond belief, which was why the house elf that came in after a few minutes thought he was delusional for a whole week.

Severus Snape had thrown his head backwards and laughed until his stomach ached, until the tears began rolling down on his cheeks in a steady stream, until he couldn't take it no more and dove into a restless sleep on top of his mahogany writing table.

Because once upon a time, Lily Evans squeaked in surprise when he came out of the bushes near the park and told her she's a witch.