It was like being in two places at the same time: Harry was aware of being nineteen years old and standing in the library at Grimmauld Place opposite Snape, while at the same time seeing himself as a fourteen-year-old, lying in a bed in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione were there, as were Mrs Weasley, Snape and Dumbledore. Harry caught a glimpse of a black dog at the other end of the hospital wing, turning the handle with a paw before the tail disappeared and the door shut. Harry widened his eyes a little as he realized that he had just watched Sirius Black’s Animagus form run out of the room and that he recognized this scene as the one after the completion of the Triwizard Tournament, after Cederic’s death and the resurrection of Voldemort.

*“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready… if you are prepared…”

“I am,” said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

“Then good luck,” said Dumbledore.*

Snape turned to leave when Harry sat up in his bed.

“No!” he exclaimed with wide eyes. “No, you can’t go to Voldemort! You can’t!”

Snape swirled around and looked at Harry with consternation.

“I…” he started to say but Harry interrupted him.

“Did you tell him what Voldemort said in the graveyard?” he asked Dumbledore in a trembling voice. “Professor, have you told Snape what I heard Voldemort say he would do to the followers who didn’t show up tonight right after his call?”

“Harry, Professor Snape knows Voldemort’s ways, and is aware of the risk he’s taking.”

“But he’ll kill him! Voldemort said so. He’ll kill you!” A panic stricken Harry turned from Dumbledore to Snape.

“Potter, don’t meddle. This is a decision that belongs to adults, way beyond your understanding,” Snape said haughtily.

“But I was there… in front of him…” Harry whispered, his gaze wavering slightly before he fastened it again on his professor, feverish. “I do understand. I do know.”

Snape must have read something in Harry’s eyes because suddenly he made a slight movement of compassion.

“I’m prepared to take the risk,” he said hoarsely.

“But he’ll Crucio you,” Harry spoke in a hacking voice, the experience from the night where he himself had been Crucioed so very fresh in his memory. “He’ll Crucio you, or kill you.”

“Albus, you must stop him from addressing me like this. I’m ready to carry out our plan but…” Snape turned to Dumbledore but Harry interrupted him once again by starting to laugh softly, sobbing at the same time with so much desperation that the others froze from the strange sounds he made.

“You’ll try to persuade him you’re his… You’ll try to appeal to him… You’ll fall to your knees, crawl on the ground and kiss the hem of his robe like the other Death Eaters did. It won’t help… It won’t help… He’ll Crucio you. He will.” Harry was shaking now, the delayed shock from what had happened in the graveyard kicking in.  It was as if it was unfathomable for him to picture anyone approaching the dark wizard willingly. He looked up at Snape.

“Don’t go,” he pleaded. “Don’t go!” Snape stared with horror at him.

“Albus,” he said, closing his eyes. “I cannot go with these images of the boy in my head. He’s warning me, he’s asking me not to go, by Merlin, just like… just like she would have done…” Snape’s voice broke. “Please, Albus, I cannot have those words of his ringing in my ears when I appear in front of the Dark Lord.”

Dumbledore nodded, desolation written on his face. He lifted his arm and:

“Obliviate,” he said.

Harry drew a deep breath as the memory faded and he found himself in front of a slightly older but healthier looking, yet pale Snape.

“He Obliviated us!” Harry exclaimed. “Dumbledore Obliviated all of us, Mrs Weasley, Ron and Hermione as well. What a nerve!”

Snape sighed.

“He had to,” he said.

“You asked him to do it,” Harry realised.

“You understand why, don’t you?”

“Yes, I see now that you couldn’t appear in front of Voldemort after that scene. You mustn’t show any sympathies at all for the Boy-who-lived. And Voldemort would Legilimency you no doubt,” Harry said slowly.

“Yes, he would, and he did,” Snape confirmed. “Thoroughly. But my going back to him was crucial, and there was a very narrow window for me in which to act. I had prepared for this step during the entire term and was quite resolved, quite determined, but my view of you had to be doubtless. I believe that’s what convinced Voldemort of my loyalty in the end… that my hatred of James Potter was still burning, and that I hated you as his offspring – hated the same enemy that Voldemort wanted to destroy… So you see it was important for my role as a counterspy to keep that hatred up. It needed to be nearly true, or true in some circumstances at any rate. I think that Dumbledore was very much aware of this and that he sometimes deliberately kept us in ignorance of each other’s better sides so that our mutual loathing persisted. It was a difficult balance.”

“What happened when this memory came back to us during our Occlumency lesson? You were still a counterspy at the time. This took place less than a year after Voldemort came back,” Harry asked. Snape sighed and made a grimace.

“This part is kind of awkward and embarrassing for me, and is the reason why I in my turn Obliviated you.”

Harry widened his eyes. But of course, he must have been Obliviated a second time, otherwise he would have remembered it now.

“I’ll show you in a minute,” said Snape “But let me tell you that it did trouble me to learn that you had tried to warn me before I returned to Voldemort. I brooded upon it for a whole week, but then, the next lesson, you know what happened. It was our last session of Occlumency. I forbade you to come back after that…”

“That’s when I stole a look in the Pensieve…” 

“It was a relief really, because I could go back to hating you, not risking to betray myself in front of Voldemort,” Snape said drily.

Harry smiled self-consciously with a streak of apology in his eyes. Snape grunted and took a deep breath as if steeling himself.

“Here’s what happened at the end of the lesson. I would appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone about it.” Harry looked intrigued but nodded and let Snape point his wand at him again to see the images of four and a half years ago in Snape’s dungeon.

The at the time fifteen-year-old Harry looked at his teacher and said:

“Dumbledore Obliviated us. I tried to warn you. Didn’t Voldemort Crucio you when you went back?” Snape looked troubled and said:

“You shouldn’t have seen this, Potter. What if the Dark Lord Legilimencies you and finds this scene in your head? He’ll understand I’m Dumbledore’s spy. This would not have happened if you had applied yourself better to learn Occlumency. I managed to Legilimency a hidden memory from you, which is proof that you let me in, almost on purpose it strikes me, far too far in your mind.”

Red spots of anger appeared on the cheeks of the fifteen-year-old Harry.

“You don’t even believe in Occlumency,” Snape continued accusingly. “You consider yourself above that kind of mental trick, don’t you? No, the Great Harry Potter goes for spectacular spells, like this summer, chasing Dementors away with fancy Patronuses, right? Why, you have decided not to stir a finger in order to learn Occlumency, haven’t you?”

“A Patronus is the only way to defend oneself against a Dementor - there was nothing fancy about it!” Harry retorted angrily.

 “For your information, you can learn to push a Dementor away by ignoring him with help of Occlumency. If no feelings emanate from you, they can’t feed on you.”

“I cannot stay impassive in front of what the Dementors evoke in me,” Harry protested. “It’s impossible!”

“Nonsense, Potter! You’re weak, emotional and impulsive, and you’re proud of it on top of everything. Refuse to hear reason, only follow your own mind…” Snape ranted. The fifteen-year-old Harry was white with anger and breathed with difficulty.

“I… I struggle… I struggle…” he stuttered, as if he wanted to explain something to Snape but didn’t find the words. Instead he turned towards a cupboard in Snape’s office from where faint thuds were heard. “There’s a Boggart in there, right? I’ll show you then… Boggarts always turn into Dementors in front of me. Just you read my mind. I’ll show you and you can tell me if you think it’d be easy to ignore the images I see and the cries that I hear when a Dementor comes near me.”

Before Snape had time to react, Harry lifted his wand to unlock the cupboard and let the Boggart out.

“You’ve already plundered my entire stock of memories in these sessions, so why not give you this as well?” There was humiliation mixed with fury and defiance in Harry’s voice. “I hear and see when my mother was killed by Voldemort,” Harry said between his teeth as the doors opened.

“Potter! No!” Snape called out beside him.

But it was too late: the Boggart emerged from the cupboard and transformed into a Dementor, hovering above Harry who felt his sight blur while desperate cries started to echo in his ears and dim images of his mother fleeing up a staircase appeared. Sinking down on his knees, he forced his impressions on Snape – he knew how it felt to have his mind read by now - and he realised that he somehow managed to transmit the images to his teacher, because he heard Snape cry out by his side. Harry made no attempts to defend himself against the Boggart, instead he let it influence him deliberately, reliving the horror and the death of his mother. He was growing faint and started to get afraid. Why did not Snape drive the Dementor away? He made an attempt at focusing his eyes, and to his surprise Snape seemed to be in as much agony as Harry, who by now was beyond being able to defend himself. When the gaping mouth of the dementor approached his face, he lost consciousness.

Snape only now seemed to become aware of what condition his pupil was in, and with an immense effort managed to turn the Boggart’s attention towards himself instead.

Nineteen-year-old Harry in the living room at Grimmauld Place narrowed his eyes. What was going on in the dungeon? Why did Snape in this memory tremble and look so out of his wits? And what was that form the Boggart was assuming?

When fifteen-year-old Harry regained consciousness the Dementor was gone and all was silent except for the sound of strangled sobs. When Harry turned around a strange scene met his eyes: Snape was prostrated on his knees in front of a woman with red hair. His face was streaked with tears, his posture was pleading and his hands which moved tentatively towards her seemed to beg desperately for forgiveness although no words came over his lips. Harry’s hart started to beat very fast at the sight of the pain, the regret and the terror etched on Snape’s face.

“Professor, it’s only a Boggart, we must get rid of it,” he said hurriedly, at which the woman turned around. For one second Harry was shocked to see the face of his mother, before she transformed into a Dementor that attacked him again. The same memories as before resurged but with even greater force. Cries, green lightening… Harry started to shake violently. Snape managed to turn the Boggart away from Harry before Harry passed out this time, and the silently condemning woman reappeared. Harry heard a faint ‘Riddiculus’, but nothing happened, and Snape appeared once again to be completely paralyzed by the Boggart.

“Professor, we must end it!” fifteen-year-old Harry exclaimed, shocked at his teacher’s inability to drive the Boggart away. Equally weak and anguished, Harry gripped his wand and one last time he turned the woman’s attention towards himself. This time he was prepared and he conjured a Patronus in time for the Dementor to shrink back, then he managed a ‘Riddiculus’ and with what felt like an immense effort, Harry shut the Boggart in the cupboard.

Bewildered, the fifteen-year-old turned towards Snape who was still on his knees, his long black hair hanging in front of his lowered face, chest heaving. Sweat dripping down his own back, feeling faint, Harry asked in a small voice:

”Professor, why do you beg my mother’s forgiveness?”

Snape lifted his head. His face was still streaked with tears and so white he looked like a ghost.

“Obliviate.”

In the living room at Grimmauld Place, Snape and Harry remained silent for a long while. Snape rested his elbows on his knees, head bent down toward his still hands and his long black hair hanging down in front of his face.

”The thing you’re most afraid of is my mother… You’re afraid that she still accuses you…” Harry said slowly. He halted. ”What does she accuse you of, precisely? Why is she so terribly unforgiving? I mean I know you… with the Prophesy… but…?” he asked. Snape looked at him for a while straight in the eyes before he answered.

”Why, she’s angry with me for putting her child in mortal danger… which I did… which I am indeed guilty of…” Harry drew his breath.

”I didn’t realise that you met Lily after the Prophesy, after you changed sides? I didn’t think that Dumbledore allowed you to see her…?”

Snape lifted a hand as a sign for Harry to stop and looked away with a plagued expression on his face which served to confirm to Harry that the assumption that Lily and Snape had met each other once again after the Prophesy had been brought to Voldemort, must be true.

”I’m so sorry Professor,” Harry said after a pause. ”You know you have repaid what you did… we talked about it at the end of last term… You need not feel guilty on my account… That scene in the dungeon, it was… it was…”

“It was dreadful… abominable…” Snape replied with a sigh.

“Do you…? Are you able to handle a Boggart today?” Harry asked cautiously. Snape shook his head and looked away.

“Er… Probably not…” he mumbled. “I avoid them.”

“But that’s…” Harry started to say, bewildered, but was stopped again by Snape’s raising a hand.

“Please leave it, Harry,” said Snape.

It wasn’t normal, Harry thought to himself. It was not normal that a powerful wizard like Snape was not capable of taking care of a simple Boggart. Harry and his friends had learnt to handle Boggarts in their third year at Hogwarts. For the first time, Harry started to realise that Snape’s reluctance to speak about Lily was not only sprung from stubbornness. It was not only eccentricity on his part, not only a way of protecting his integrity and personal life, but was instead a sign of something disturbing and debilitating - a deep wound, an abyss of grief and guilt lurking under the professor’s impassive surface. Harry shuddered at the realisation when Snape started to speak again, having regained most of his countenance.

“I realize that I alone brought that scene in the dungeons about,” he said. “I pushed you over the limit. You were only fifteen and I took advantage of the situation. I plagued you. I was severe in my teaching and didn’t explain much to you, only craved of you to try harder. Maybe I wanted you to fail to be able to say that you were worthless… I’m so sorry, Harry. I loathe myself for that behaviour today.” Harry tried to say something but Snape stopped him. “This afternoon, however, it was not my intention to hurt you. I know that I had promised not to Legilimency you and that I shouldn’t have attempted it. But it was done spontaneously, out of impatience, but without ill intent.”

Harry sighed, but his look told Snape that the young wizard had forgiven him.

 “I’m afraid we’ll have to live with the consequences of our Occlumency lessons,” Snape continued composedly. “We might be able to take advantage of this peculiar connection that we have between our minds, however, and learn to communicate wordlessly with one another. It’s not about intruding or even reading each other’s minds, it’s about sending mental messages, deliberately, to each other. It’s a bit like I showed you before, when you share a memory with another person. It should work. And it could come in useful.”

Harry smiled faintly at his professor. Wordless communication, indeed – yes, that might be interesting. The proposal told Harry that Snape had an amazing ability to recover and to turn things to his advantage, and Harry could but admire Snape for that fact.

Yet, what still lingered in Harry’s mind was the scene in the dungeon where Snape had been incapacitated to such a degree, and a suspicion that the confession today, including the revelation of the shape of his Boggart, had cost Snape immensely in terms of courage and self-control. The professor must have steeled himself before joining Harry today. No wonder Snape had been ready to turn back and walk away on the door-step to Grimmauld Place.