Harry walked into Snape’s office with a little less reluctance than usual. He had thought about the talk with Snape down by the lake over and over again since yesterday. He also remembered what Lupin had told him. He’d known for a long time that he needed to learn Occlumency, but the realization of what Voldemort would do to Snape if he found out that he was a spy for Dumbledore caused ice to flow through his veins. The last thing he needed was someone else dying because he had made a mistake.

"Potter, did you practice last night?" Snape asked curtly.

He nodded.

"Legilimens." Snape cast the spell so quickly Harry was caught off guard.

Through all this he managed to stay on his feet, just panting slightly. He blinked and tried to take deeper breaths once he realized the spell was over.

"Much better, especially since I didn’t give you time to prepare," Snape acknowledged. "Why did you get locked into the room?"

Harry, shaking slightly, sat down on one of the chairs by Snape’s desk. "Uncle Vernon had a dinner party with some influential people. Dobby, the Malfoys’ former house elf, was trying to keep me from going to Hogwarts my second year and used magic to drop a dessert on one of the guests. I was thrown into my room and locked in for what was supposed to be forever, but Ron and his brothers got me out later that night."

"I see." Snape frowned. "Shall we try again?"

"Okay."

"Legilimens"

This time he had fallen to his knees, but he shakily managed to pull himself upright again. He had managed to clear his mind this time before Snape ended the spell.

Snape looked shaken. He had never realized how bad Potter’s childhood had been.

Harry hated for Snape to see some of those memories, but he still couldn’t ward all of them off.

"You are improving, but obviously you haven’t been able to block off some of those memories as they are still influencing you and making you react with weakness. Has your aunt always treated you like this?"

He nodded.

"Did she or you uncle ever beat you?" Snape asked in a quiet, hesitant voice.

Harry thought quietly. "I was punished when I did things wrong, but the punishments were never excessive."

Snape breathed a sigh of relief. "That’s at least one thing in their favour. Nothing messes a child up more than then coupling being unloved with constant beatings."

Harry wondered if Snape was talking about himself. He didn’t dare ask, though, now that a tentative truce was in place.

***

Hermione was deeply immersed in a book on Animagi, but inexplicably something broke her concentration and make her look up. Malfoy had just entered the library.

He walked slowly, as if some heavy weight pressed on his shoulders. He had a lost and tired look about him as if he had a lot on his mind and had had very little sleep. He suddenly noticed her as his icy eyes narrowed. Even from half way across the room, she saw the shadows under his eyes.

He wearily dropped down into a chair two tables over from where she sat.

She couldn’t describe the feeling she felt in the last while whenever she saw Malfoy. Ever since she had gone to find him in the fog, something about him made her want to reach out to him and to try and befriend him, though she knew Ron would classify her as insane if he ever found out. Looking at Malfoy, it was as if something in him had changed and he wasn’t any longer that malicious, evil boy that enjoyed causing others pain and misery.

Was it a woman’s intuition or just a huge error in judgment? Sure, he had responded to her apology about the elf, and back in Hagrid's cabin when she had hugged him, his head had dropped on her shoulder, but it was likely just from the pain in his ankle. She thought back to when she had found him crying in the fog and to the words Harry had hurled at him about crying on Snape’s shoulder. Malfoy had never cried, not even when he had gotten hurt in Hagrid’s class, and not even when Moody had punished him pretty severely two years ago. Something must have really upset him and whatever it was it hadn’t ended because he still looked completely miserable.

She put down her book and went over to him.

He looked up at her resentfully. "What do you want?" he snarled quietly.

She didn’t say anything, disappointed that, once again, he was being his nasty self. She shrugged, which seemed to infuriate him even further.

"Spit it out, Mudblood. What do you want?" He spoke more loudly, his voice sounding hoarse.

"I just wanted to ask if you were all right because you look like you aren’t feeling well, but since your nastiness is back, forget it because I don’t care!" Her eyes looked fiery and she turned on her heel.

He yelled after her, "I don’t care either, so just leave me alone!"

His heart raced as he angrily turned back to his potions study book. He almost wished he hadn’t snapped at her. Seeing her reminded him of Potter and how he now had Snape on his bandwagon. His head ached and his hand came up to his forehead. Through the blond strands of hair hanging over his eyes, he peered at Granger again, but her attention was back on her book.

Hermione was furious with herself. Why had she even bothered to try to reach out to him? He was a foul mouthed, miserable, evil boy and she wouldn’t waste another second on him. Without consciously realizing it, her eyes wandered over to him again. He sat hunched over in the chair, one hand to his head, his white blond hair down over his eyes. He looked desolate. She snorted, serves him right. She would never allow herself to feel sorry for him again!

***

It was the night before the Hogsmeade trip and everyone at dinner was making their plans.

"Well I think we should hang out at the Three Broomsticks for awhile," Ron proposed.

"Not until I do some Christmas shopping," stated Hermione.

"But it’s still over a month away. How can you even think about it?" Ron asked with an exasperated tone.

Harry didn’t pay much attention to the conversation. His mind was already on the next Occlumency lesson. He felt a little better now that he was making some progress, but he was terrified that he would never learn it well enough to block Voldemort if the dark wizard tried again. Every night now he sat on his bed and did the deep breathing exercise that Snape had taught him. He came out of his reverie of thoughts when Hermione’s words caught his attention.

"Well, I had been in a good mood up to then. But Malfoy was completely rotten yesterday, right back to his old nasty self."

Ron scoffed. "When was he ever his new self?"

Hermione snorted. "You are right, it was all my imagination!"

Harry glanced over to the Slytherin table and Malfoy sat there expressionless, staring at his plate, taking an occasional drink from his glass. As if feeling Harry’s gaze on him, he looked up. Harry was struck again by an odd feeling of pity. Malfoy’s eyes looked hollow and haunted, but they changed quickly as anger shadowed them and they narrowed back into the dark look he knew so well. Harry focused back on Hermione. "Did something else happened with Malfoy?"

Ron looked confused between the two of them. "Something else? What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, Ron. It was no big deal. Awhile back he sprained his ankle and I helped him. He was actually a touch civil to me for awhile after that, but yesterday at the library he looked, I don’t know, sad, depressed. When I went over to him, he was miserable and called me, well you know what."

"Someone ought to inflict some serious hurt on him. I think it should be me."

"Ron, if you did that I’d never speak to you again! You are better than that. Promise me you won’t do anything."

Ron grumbled but promised.

Harry smiled. "You know, Hermione can take care of herself pretty well, especially when it comes to Malfoy."

"Yeah, I remember." Ron smiled remembering when she had slapped him in 3rd year.

Harry glanced back at Malfoy. He sat at his table, seemingly oblivious to the conversations and activity around him.

Hermione suddenly gasped. "I forgot to feed Crookshanks! I’ll be right back." She jumped up and literally ran out of the room. Harry noticed Malfoy’s gaze following her. He had an odd look, akin to worry, on his face, but then as he glanced at the Gryffindor table, contempt and anger once again masked his features.

"Harry, how are detentions going with Snape?" Ron asked quietly.

"Better. Snape’s actually being more patient and not snarling at me all the time. He taught me how to do a deep breathing exercise, which helps me to relax," he explained.

"Do you think you can ward off You-Know-Who if he tries to get into your head again?"

"I don’t think I’m there yet. Snape has been doing something different. I don’t know how, but every time he does the spell, I have memories relating to the Dursleys. I think he’s taking it slow so I can deal with things that happened with them."

Ron looked awkward. "But shouldn’t he be focusing on the really bad things like…" He stopped awkwardly, not wanting to upset Harry.

"Like when Sirius died?" Harry asked quietly.

"Yeah," Ron whispered.

Harry took a deep breath. "I think we’ll get there at some point. He knows I can’t just put that out of my mind, it still..." He stopped again, feeling the familiar burning at the back of his eyes.

"Hurts too much?" Hermione had returned and had heard the last few quiet sentences between them. Harry stared fixedly at the table. She put her arm around him and her head on his shoulder, offering him some comfort. He closed his eyes and put his head on hers for a moment. "Thanks, Hermione."

Silently the blond boy sitting at the Slytherin table watched the exchange with a surge of anger. The stupid trio, always flaunting their friendship. A knot formed in his stomach. Maybe life as a Death Eater wouldn’t be so bad. His gaze went up to Snape and he jumped slightly when Snape looked back at him, his brow furrowed, looking worried. Draco looked away quickly. He wanted power so people would respect him and no one would be better than him. Especially Potter and his pets. But Snape’s words kept creeping into his mind on what life as a Death Eater was really like. He wanted to hear it from his father because he didn’t want to be a slave and his father wouldn’t be a slave to anyone. He wanted to see his dad.

***

Hours later, Harry found himself in Occlumency again. He wavered unsteadily after just re-experiencing the Dementor attack and Dudley and Uncle Vernon coming at him, fists raised. Then the notice of his expulsion from Hogwarts.

He tried to do the deep breathing Snape had taught him. Snape looked concerned. "Your uncle. He came at you with his fists raised?"

"Yes, but he didn’t hit me. He thought I had used magic to hurt my cousin Dudley, but I actually used it to try and get rid of the Dementors that Umbridge sent."

"Potter, how do you feel about them?" Snape asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don’t feel anything. They don’t care about me and I don’t care about them."

"If Voldemort had his Death Eaters go after them and kill them all, how would you feel?" Snape asked quietly.

Harry’s green eyes opened wide with alarm. "Why are you asking that? Do you know something is going to happen? I can’t let that happen." His heart raced.

"Calm down, Potter!" Snape snapped. "You obviously do care."

Harry grew quiet. The thought that Voldemort could kill them all had made an icy chill course through his body. His aunt and his cousin were, after all, his only living relatives. He didn’t want to be responsible for their deaths.

"You’re not succeeding at blocking me at all today. I had to end the last spell. Clear your mind!" Snape said impatiently.

"I’m trying," Harry responded with anger.

Snape waved his wand. "Prepare yourself." Then, "Legilimens."

Trelawney’s voice echoed in Dumbledore’s office and Harry looked devastated, realizing that he would have to either kill or be killed in the final battle with Voldemort.

He lay on the floor gasping.

"Get up, let’s try again." Snape’s voice sounded weary.

"No."

Snape turned at the softly spoken word. Potter had pulled himself into a sitting position. He could see that he wasn’t being defiant, just tired of not making progress.

Snape sat down on the floor across from him. "Let’s do the breathing exercise."

Potter’s green gaze lifted slowly to meet his.

"Close your eyes and do not think of anything. Take an slow deep breath." He waited till Potter did it. "Good, now hold it. Slowly release it. Do it again."

After the last image, Harry had felt dizzy and disheartened. If Voldemort got into his head he would know everything.

"Have you had anymore dreams?" Snape asked softly.

"No, I’ve been doing these breathing exercises and trying not to think of anything."

"Good. Tell me how you feel about the prophecy?"

"Why did that happen? I kept getting images about the Dursleys. Why did I suddenly get the prophecy?" Harry looked up at him, his eyes haunted.

"I was controlling the images. Those who are skilled at Legilimency can direct their victim’s thoughts to certain events or times. I didn’t control the last one, though. I thought I would let your subconscious direct me to one of the things that weighed most heavily in your thoughts."

"I would never have wanted to have to kill, but I won’t let anyone hurt my friends and those that I care about." He stopped, an expression of pain briefly crossing his face. "I couldn’t stop Sirius’ death, and I don’t think I could live with it if someone else dies because of me. Otherwise, I don’t care if Voldemort kills me. I could see my parents and Sirius."

Snape’s heart beat painfully. "Don’t you think your parents and Sirius would want you to live a long time? You are much too young to be crossing the veil."

Potter looked at him. "You mean like Cedric was?"

Snape’s dark gaze flickered briefly. "Yes." He sighed. "You’re tired and Hogsmeade is this weekend. We’ll end here tonight and talk during your next detention. I think we need to discuss a few things before continuing again. Continue as you have been with clearing your mind and breathing exercises."

Harry stood up.

"Potter, you carry a great weight on your shoulders, but tomorrow don’t think about any of this. Have a good time," came Snape’s surprising advice.

Harry looked up into the dark eyes and smiled softly at Snape.

A ghost of what might be interpreted as a smile briefly crossed Snape’s face.