Harry wasn’t to know it yet, but part of the reason Snape chose to take the mind maze approach to teaching Occlumency was because it required less suppression of emotion. Anyone who knew Harry knew that shutting down his emotions wasn’t something he excelled at. He often let his temper get the better of him in class, and had a smart mouth that at once both amused and vexed Snape. His friends would say no differently. While not exactly a fault, it would definitely make traditional Occlumency a challenge.

The creation of a mind maze depended on understanding one’s emotions rather than repressing them. Memories were noteworthy to a person in the associations and feelings attached to them. Rather than blocking a Legillimens from accessing any thoughts and memories (and the emotions attached to them) by hiding them behind a barrier and seperating one’s self from them, a person building a mind maze utilizes the emotions already binding certain memories together to construct more conscious pathways in the mind. It required a calm state to view and sort said memories, but a complete separation from any accompanying feelings was not required for success.

Therefore, Harry finally managed to finish Occluding his memories of the Dursleys without completely changing his personality by severing thoughts of his relatives from the wide range of associated emotions. Old hurts, not ignored, but acknowledged and moved past, gave way to a very long and painful Occlumency session wherein Harry sorted and arranged the whole lot of his limited but strong memories of Voldemort.

After a long, slightly philosophical debate about love, hatred, and the motives behind why they were fighting in the war, he kept hate out of the equation when he sorted them. It was, Snape told him, one of the most marked differences between the two of them. Where Harry consciously rejected hate, Voldemort chose it time and time again. Revolted by the notion of being similar to Voldemort, Harry was only too happy to do so.

"Very good," Snape said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied expression on his face once the ordeal was over. "Now that you have finally organized your mind, we will move on to constructing the maze in more depth tomorrow."

Harry made no outward sign of his realization that no, he had not finished organizing his mind. Perhaps it was because he was completely drained. He forced himself to nod at Snape, and even managed a weak smile. Snape, pleased with his progress and not a little smug at his own success in teaching him properly, suggested a walk. Harry hmmed his acquiescence, and five minutes later they were traversing a flatter stretch of the hilly region east of the village.

In no fit state to converse with his traveling companion, Harry watched the stars beginning to dot the evening sky before them with tired eyes. 

“You did well,” Snape said quietly. Harry tried not to let how pleased he was at the compliment to show on his face. “I know that was difficult.”

Harry took a deep, cleansing breath of the fresh air around them. “Yeah. It was.”

They walked on in silence for some minutes until Snape spoke up. “I don’t suppose you have finished with the Art of War yet?”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “I read chapter eight, Variations in Tactics.” He knew he should have read more, but he had mostly been spending his hour of supplementary work every day studying the book on warding instead.

Snape didn’t appear to be in a quarrelsome mood today, however, for he only raised an eyebrow and reminded him to not neglect the book too much. Harry nodded sanguinely and they returned to the cottage.

A cup of tea, and then Harry was only too happy to collapse onto his (his!) new bed and sleep.

He was too mentally worn to focus on the blankness of meditation. He didn't even bother to try, knowing he wouldn't get very far before falling asleep.

Two hours later, Snape was shaking him awake from a particularly bad nightmare. He lay panting on the bed, the sheets sticking to his sweaty back.

There was a dip in the side of the mattress as Snape sat on the edge of the bed. Harry, trying to regain control of his heartbeat, sat up and turned so that he was side-by-side with him.

"I should have known that this would have brought back memories," Snape said, his voice low and rumbly in night's silence.

Harry, exhausted and done in, found himself leaning against Snape for support. Half expecting to be pushed away, but not really thinking the man would, he was gratified when an arm came around his shoulders.

"I'm never going to be free of him," Harry whispered, squeezing his eyes shut even though it was too dark for anyone to see the tears that threatened to run down his cheeks.

The arm around his shoulders tightened, and he allowed his head to fall back against Snape's shoulder. He was fifteen, but moments like this made him feel infinitely younger.

"I can't believe that," Snape said after a moment's thought.

"Why?" Harry asked flatly, the tears receding but replaced with a deeper weariness.

"We need to believe that we can win, because the alternative does not bear thinking about. Remember your readings. Drive, focus, and morale. The only sure way to lose is to go into this fight convinced that you will."

This was all good to hear, but his worries weren't completely allayed. "Yeah, but even if we win and he's dead, I'm never going to forget everything he did. And he'll probably do more awful stuff before that happens. I'm still gonna remember-" he broke off as the graveyard he had just dreamed of swam before his eyes.

Snape didn't verbally respond. Perhaps he understood that there wasn't really anything that could be said. He only continued to sit next to Harry and provide the comfort of silent companionship. He didn't let go of Harry once.

Harry inevitably woke up when McAuliffe began his morning serenade, but remained in bed for a few minutes, comfortably warm. Snape was out of sight, but he could hear the man's quiet breathing from across the room. He realized than an extra blanket had been laid over him sometime after he had fallen asleep. 

A moment later, Snape emerged from behind the privacy screen with the slow step of a half-asleep man. Harry felt guilty for waking him in the middle of the night and didn't meet his eye as he got up.

"How do you feel?" Snape asked the question in a slightly thick voice, followed by a yawn.

"Better," he answered honestly. 

He ran through his scales on the chanter, which quickly woke up Snape.

His lesson went well. McAuliffe thought he had progressed enough to try the full set of pipes for the last ten minutes, although Harry's temporary glow of satisfaction was darkened by the much worse quality of playing.

"It'll take awhile to adjust," McAuliffe said, unconcerned. "Keep practicing with the chanter at home."

Breakfast was ready when he came back, and he ate distractedly. On the way out, Snape said, "You've done very well with Occlumency. The worst part is over."

Harry waved goodbye but grimaced as soon as the door shut behind him. There was one last stronghold of unorganized memories to attack, and he was worried that they would be more difficult than even Voldemort.

At least he knew where he stood with the Dursleys and Voldemort.

He hurried through his daily assignments, knowing he had a lot of work to do before that evening's lesson. He finished quickly, and decided to do his supplementary hour that evening between dinner and the lesson.

Putting his school books aside, he sat in a cross-legged meditation pose on his bed. Ten minutes of measured breaths, and he entered a of light trance. With a sort of resignation, he finally addressed the one subject that confused him most.

Snape.

He'd learned that it was impossible to sort all of his memories about something without also sorting his feelings about it. Usually those feelings he couldn't immediately figure out came up during the process, so he allowed hundreds of memories to flood over him.

Snape was in class, leaning over him and vanishing his potion with a sneer. Snape was in the hallway, taking points for poor dress because his tie was slightly askew from running upstairs to get a book he'd forgotten. Snape handed back his homework, at least half a bottle of red ink marking the page up and a large D at the top.

Snape stood on the crest of a hill, a hand raised over his eyes to shield them from the sun's glare as he scanned the Highlands for signs of danger. Snape held a board while Jack Duncan nailed a crossbeam onto his new bed. Snape wrapped an arm around Harry as he leaned into him, doing his best to comfort him after a bad nightmare.

Harry's eyes snapped open. There was no way he could sort this out. Waves of confusion were crashing over him, rocking his peace. To do it on his own would be impossible; to bring the issue up with Snape even more so. Yet, he had to try. He knew how important it was for him to learn Occlumency. Last night's dream had been a painful reminder of the enemy he faced. 

There was nothing for it. He had to try.

Start at the beginning. Regrounding himself with a few measured breaths, he brought up his very first memory of Snape. It was not a pleasant one, and set the mood for the next four years' worth of ridicules and sneers. It was a relief to reach the day he was taken away from the trial by portkey.

In reviewing those first few days of travel, he was surprised to remember that Snape's behavior had been more in line with the professor than the man of the village. He had still been condescending and mean. Somewhere along the way since, Harry had grouped those early days with the Snape he'd more recently known. Perhaps it was because, manner aside, Snape's actions there had been meant for Harry's benefit.

Realizing he was getting off-track, he continued calling up memories of the village and living here. Much more pleasant to think about, and more perplexing. In the refreshed context of his behavior when Harry was younger, it hardly made sense. Having lived a life where kindness was the exception rather than the rule, the new Snape was hard for him to figure out.

Once he had sorted through all the memories, he began to put them together. Starting with the earliest, he formed them into a tunnel like the one under the shrieking shack.

When he reached the "new" memories, of everything since the trial, he encountered a problem he had never had before. He added the first new memory onto the tunnel, but it wouldn't stick. It kept drifting away and clumping back with the others. He continued to try with several different new memories, but none of them worked.

Frustrated, he secured the tunnel of old memories and opened his eyes. An analog clock on the wall in the kitchen showed that several hours had passed, and he realized with a start that he had missed lunch. He stood to get something to eat, only to find his thighs and calves stiff from sitting in one position so long. His walk to the fridge was more of a wincing limp.

Armed with a sandwich, he sat at the kitchen table to eat and think about what might have gone wrong.

His eyes fell on the stack of supplementary reading. Near the bottom was the book on the mental arts. Quickly finishing his lunch, Harry grabbed it and flipped it open to the Occlumency portion. There was a chapter dedicated solely to the mind maze method. He and Snape hadn't talked much about the other methods, and Harry didn't really care enough to look them up. He flicked to the chapter and began scanning the page.

He couldn't determine what went wrong the first read through, and was forced to go back to the beginning and read it more closely. His attention wandered until getting to a paragraph about the emotional ties connecting different memories. Part of the reason memories of the same topic were always grouped together was because they usually hold similar emotional connections.

Thoughtfully returning the book to the pile, he considered how the new memories of Snape wouldn't stick to the old ones. It was as if there was nothing to hold them together like there had been between all the other memories he had Occluded before. Was that why? Because the newer memories had vastly different emotional ties than the old ones did?

He returned to the bed, this time lying down instead of sitting cross-legged, and closed his eyes. He meditated, then quickly found the grouping of newer Snape memories. He made one last, vain attempt to add them to the old ones, then gave up and started fresh with another pathway. This was much more enjoyable, as the newer memories were so much more positive. There were a lot of worries and anxieties, arguments and annoyances, of course; but running through it all was an undercurrent of their improving relationship and a growing conviction that he might, for once, be living with someone who cared about him.

The crowning glory of these newer memories was last night's comfort after his nightmare. Not only had Snape given it, but Harry had craved it. Not in a general way, but he had specifically wanted Snape. And the man had been there.

This, if nothing else, proved to Harry that his own feelings were different. He'd been aware for a while that he was starting to like Snape, but being grateful for a bed and wanting physical comfort after a bad dream were very different things. Harry didn't know when he'd ever been held by a caring adult after a nightmare.

It was easier than he could have thought—perhaps easier than it should have been—to Occlude these newer memories into their own, separate pathway. When he finished, he opened his eyes with a much more satisfied feeling. It was about time to start dinner, so he got up and began making it.

It really was like knowing two different people. One he despised (and the feeling was mutual), and the other was… if not a parent, then perhaps a guardian. Maybe even a mentor.

He sprayed cooking oil onto a pan with a smile. A small part of him felt slightly uneasy, although he wouldn't allow himself to consider why, but mostly he was satisfied. The very last of his memories had been sorted. Now, when Snape walked through the front door, he would be ready for whatever new exercises the man threw at him.

When he arrived home, Snape found the smell of frying salmon steaks waiting. The lines on his face lightened slightly as he greeted Harry, who smiled back with more enthusiasm than he ever had yet.