Harry watched Snape carefully as he entered the potions lab, uncertain whether to expect a lecture. The last thing he needed was for the professor to be annoyed at him for being late and call off the whole thing. However, Snape either didn’t notice that he hadn’t come straight up after breakfast, or he’d decided not to make an issue of it. As soon as Harry closed the door behind him, the professor motioned for him to take a seat on his usual stool and placed a potions vial on the counter in front of him.

“This,” Snape said without preamble, “is a mental acuity potion often used in the beginning stages of Occlumency instruction.”

Harry eyed the vial with curiosity. The potion it held was dark blue in color, yet it seemed almost clear when the light hit it just so. It was mesmerizing. “You didn’t mention any potion last year.” He immediately clamped his lips shut, still uncertain about the wisdom of bringing up last year, but thankfully, Snape didn’t seem to mind.

“No,” Snape explained, taking a seat opposite Harry. “I wouldn’t have. This potion should only be used between a teacher and student who can dredge up a degree of trust between them.”

“Trust?” Harry smoothed down his fringe. Trust was a big thing for such a little word, and for all the thought he’d given to regret and forgiveness over the past several days, he’d yet to make up his mind on the issue of trust. He still wanted to trust Snape, still wasn’t sure that he could.

“A degree of trust,” Snape repeated, watching Harry carefully. “I do not pretend that either one of us is prepared to have absolute faith in the other, but I do believe that we may be able to drum up just enough for this potion to work.”

“What does it do?” Harry wasn’t going to agree with that statement until he knew why they’d need to trust each other.

“This potion facilitates the melding of two minds.”

Harry felt his eyes widen, his mind caught somewhere in between horror and terror. Meld minds with Snape? He didn’t quite know what that meant, but it did not sound like something he wanted to do.

“Calm yourself, Potter.” Snape quirked his lips, and Harry realized that the man was amused. He made a mental note to be properly annoyed just as soon as he got over his horror. “Occlumency instructors have used this method for generations. It allows teacher and student a direct pathway into each other’s mind for the purpose of learning a particular skill. It is not unlike Legilimency, only it allows for a smoother, more sustained merge and a more advantageous vantage point.”

“V-vantage point?” Harry managed to ask. Were his lips going numb? He thought that maybe his lips were going numb.

“If we both take this potion, I will grant you access to my mind so that I may show you how I accomplish the feat you are finding difficult. You will experience it as I do, not as an external party looking in. I will also be able to see into your mind, from your perspective, what is behind your failed efforts.”

“If we take it?” He latched onto that important word, wondering if it was too late to back out of this lesson and go study with Hermione instead.

There was that glint in Snape’s eyes again that made him look entirely too much like he was enjoying Harry’s discomfort. “I offer it to you as an option - in my opinion, the most effective method to teach this skill. Alternatively, I can attempt to guide you through the exercise by describing what to do.”

“You mean…” Harry thought he could maybe feel his lips again. “You’re giving me a choice? You’re not going to make me take that?”

Snape shook his head. “I hardly think that forcing a potion down your throat will help you to learn Occlumency. Besides, the potion will not achieve its intended means unless both parties do so willingly.”

“You’re really giving me a choice?” Harry had to make sure.

“Yes.”

“What’s your choice?” Surely the Snape he knew wouldn’t want Harry Potter anywhere near his mind.

“I’ve already made my choice by offering the choice to you. We will work at your comfort level.”

“And you’re really willing to let me into your mind?” Harry asked skeptically.

“Yes,” Snape said without hesitation, and Harry knew how big a deal that was. Snape really was offering him trust. He was so shocked that he almost swallowed his fear and offered trust in return. Almost. Well, maybe not. But the thought entered his mind for a split second.

Instead, he asked, “How many times have you used this potion before?”

Snape hesitated before stiffly admitting, “I have never used it.”

Harry was too surprised to say anything for several seconds, and when he did, all he could make out was a jumbled, “Wha-? But why…I mean, how do you know it’ll work? And why haven’t you used it, if it’s supposed to be such a good way to teach Occlumency?”

Snape flicked a lank lock of hair out of his face and crossed his arms over his chest. “I told you that my mother taught me Occlumency as a child. She used other methods, as a potion such as this would not be advisable for children much younger than yourself. I had no other formal tutor in the art.”

“Then how have you taught it before? Just by mental attacks?” At Snape’s lack of immediate response, Harry put two and two together. “Oh. I’m the only one you’ve ever taught. Aren’t I?”

“Occlumency is not an art usually sought after by Hogwarts students, Potter,” Snape said - in a rather snooty tone, in Harry’s opinion. “On the rare occasion an upper level student might express interest in the art, their Head of House would typically arrange for an apprenticeship of sorts, to begin after graduation. I have never sought to take on such an arrangement, as I am not in the least suited to it.”

Harry cocked his head to the side. “So…there were other people the headmaster could have asked to teach me? But he made me work with you…because of the other prophecy?” It was the first time he’d mentioned Snape’s prophecy aloud since Dumbledore had shared its contents, and he watched the professor warily in case he’d overstepped.

But other than an eye twitch, Snape made no acknowledgment of it. “The headmaster could not entrust your mind or the secrecy of your lessons to anyone he did not explicitly trust to not betray you to the Dark Lord. Whatever additional motivations he had, and however displeased you and I were over the arrangement, that reason alone was not to be refused.”

Harry nodded, feeling that they’d strayed from the point. “So how do you know how to use the potion if you’ve never used it before?”

“Credit me with some intelligence,” Snape spat. Harry had obviously insulted him by implying more than once that he might not know what he was doing. “I have done my research, and I have discussed its use at length with a colleague whose experience with using this particular potion is quite extensive. I have brewed it myself, so I have no doubt that it will have the intended effect. Do you wish to attempt it or not?” Snape’s eyes were flashing with undisguised irritation, but Harry was more interested in the fact that this time, Snape had apparently put a decent amount of time and effort into figuring out the best way to teach Harry. He didn’t know quite how to feel about that, but he hadn’t expected it. At all. And it was that, more than anything, that made him agree. After a few swallows past the fear still present in his throat, anyway.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath that was only a little bit shaky. “Okay, let’s do it.”

The irritation fell from Snape’s eyes, and he asked, “You are certain?” with such obvious surprise that Harry wondered if despite Snape’s careful research and preparation, he’d still been almost completely positive that Harry would say no.

“Well…define certain,” Harry admitted. “I’m freaking out a bit, to be honest. So we should probably go ahead and take that potion before I change my mind.”

Snape wordlessly held out the potion to Harry and pulled an identical vial from his pocket. He drank the entire contents of his own vial and gestured for Harry to do the same.

With a steeling breath, Harry tipped it back and gulped down the liquid. He immediately pulled a face. “Ugh. What is in that? It looks nice, but it tastes like rubber and feels like slime.”

Snape smirked. “Runespoor eyes, for one.”

Harry grimaced. “Yeah, okay. I don’t need to know what else.”

“Wise choice.” Snape vacated his stool and sat cross-legged on the floor. Harry stared. The sight of his rigid professor doing something as casual as sitting on the floor was…well, it was weird. “If you are still sitting on that stool when the potion takes effect, you certainly won’t be for long,” Snape said with a pointed look.

Taking the hint, he settled himself on the ground opposite the professor, mimicking his pose.

“The potion will begin to take effect shortly,” Snape explained. “You may feel disoriented until you become accustomed to it. The disorientation should pass within a matter of minutes, at which point your mind will be open to the melding.”

Harry gave a jerky nod. Disorientation was fine. It was the mind melding bit that he was starting to panic about. Why had he agreed to this so quickly? He had half a mind to ask Snape how valuable the potion was and how difficult it had been to brew so he could decide how much trouble he’d cause if he backed out now. He didn’t realize he had clenched his jaw or notice how tightly he was grasping the material of his jeans in his hands until Snape poked his knuckles with a finger. Harry jumped.

“Relax. Breathe.” Snape took a few exaggerated, slow breaths, and Harry tried to match them. “The potion will work best if your mind is in a state of calm.”

Calm? Ha. Right. Harry deliberately unfurled his fingers and tried to loosen his tense shoulders, but he was far from calm. He sneaked a peak at Snape, making sure he didn’t still look annoyed - he didn’t - before tentatively asking, “What if I can’t make my mind calm enough? Will it work right?” Will it hurt? he wanted to add but couldn’t without sounding like a scared little kid. He tried not to think about that question because his shoulders were tensing up again.

“Its efficacy may be dampened, but only insofar that your mind will be unyielding to mine. In order for me to ascertain what is giving you difficulty, I must be allowed access into your mind so that I am able to understand how you are attempting the exercise.”

Harry nodded, still worried but trying not to show it. He took a few more deep breaths, when a sudden wave of dizziness overtook him. He shot out a hand to catch himself from tipping over sideways. Pressing his hand into the coolness of the floor, he leaned heavily on it while the dizziness passed and a lesser wave took its place. The world swam out of focus, and he rubbed his eyes with his other hand, managing only to knock his glasses askew. In the next second, he felt a pair of hands pluck his glasses from his face.

“You won’t need them,” Snape explained. Harry blearily watched him fold them and place them to the side, well out of reach. “Our eyes will remain closed for the exercise itself.”

Harry wanted to protest. With the world even more out of focus than usual, he felt defenseless. He didn’t like that feeling, and he had to stop himself from trying to cross his arms over his chest for some sense of protection. But he clamped his lips shut against the protest and left his arm where it was, as much due to another wave of dizziness as due to his pride. They sat in silence for over a minute while Harry, eyes closed, battled the dizziness. It was slowly being replaced by a fuzzy feeling. It was a strange sensation, not a kind of fuzziness that dulled the brain or the senses, but that somehow sharpened them. He flexed his hand against the floor and felt its texture as if it were a part of his skin. He breathed in, and the strong scent of dirt and spice tickled his nostrils and teased his tongue. He wrinkled his nose and sneezed from the unexpected intensity of various aromas. He slowly opened his eyes, half afraid to know how his eyes would react to the world around him. As his eyes returned to normal, however, they were just…normal. Snape was blurry but no more or less than usual without the use of his glasses.

“Why-” he cut himself off, his voice sounding strange in his own head, amplified, but only slightly. He tried his best to ignore it. “Why don’t I see different?” He hoped Snape would understand the question because he couldn’t explain. His mind was too busy getting used to all of the strange sensations.

“One side effect of the potion is to amplify the senses,” Snape said in a calming voice. “If one sense is already sharper than another, it will be all the more amplified. Sharpening our awareness, which often comes through the senses, aids in the demonstration of Occlumency techniques. You won’t notice it so much while we are engaged in the mental exercise itself.”

“Oh,” Harry acknowledged but was unable to keep some lingering confusion from his face.

“Your other senses are used to overcompensating for your weakened vision,” Snape explained. “As such, they are more receptive to the potion’s effects. That your sense of sight is unchanged is hardly surprising.”

His eyes lit up at a thought. “Are there potions that improve less receptive senses? It wouldn’t be totally horrible to not have to wear glasses anymore.”

Snape snorted. “There are, but unless you do, in fact, want to become a potions addict, they are highly inadvisable.”

Hmm. So much for that momentary hope. Oh well. He wasn’t too disappointed, he decided. He was used to his glasses by now, even if he was certain they were a couple prescriptions too old. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get used to seeing his image in the mirror without them.

“Has the disorientation gone?” Snape’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I think so.” Harry blinked up at the professor, wishing he could see his face better. He’d gotten better at reading Snape, but he wasn’t used to doing so by the inflection of his voice alone.

Snape scooted closer so that he was sitting directly in front of Harry, their knees almost touching. “We can do this in one of two ways.”

Harry couldn’t help it. He laughed. He stifled it almost immediately. “Sorry. Two ways, got it.” He could see Snape better now that he was closer, and he couldn’t miss his signature raised eyebrow. When Harry realized he wasn’t going to get out of it without explanation, he said, “I…uh, just didn’t expect to be given so many options today. That’s all. I expected more of a ‘my way or the highway’ approach. I…sorry.,” he repeated and schooled his features. “You were saying?”

Thankfully, Snape let it go without further comment. “The more physical contact we share, the better this will work. However, as that is likely to result in discomfort and therefore a less receptive mind, we must find a satisfactory middle ground.”

Harry licked his dry lips. Middle ground. Yes, much better than having to give Snape a hug or something. Ugh. No way was he getting that close to that greasy head, no matter the progress they’d made. He tried so hard not to let that thought show on his face that he had to force himself to pay attention to what Snape was saying. He got the gist though. Clasped wrists would allow for the minimal contact needed for the melding of minds, but placing their hands at each other’s temples would achieve more desirable results.

“Wrists,” Harry said quickly. Allowing Snape to touch his face, and doing so in return, was so far outside his comfort zone that he’d never be able to focus his mind. From Snape’s immediate nod, he was fairly certain the man both expected the answer and felt the same way.

He couldn’t help a flinch when Snape reached for both of his arms and placed them face up on his folded knees. Snape didn’t comment, just placed his wrists over Harry’s and lightly but firmly grasped his lower arms. It was the oddest sensation by far, due to his heightened senses. He didn’t just feel the man’s skin and pulse; it felt almost as if Snape’s pulse were his own. Their closeness was messing with his senses in other ways too. Their voices weren’t quite so amplified anymore, but the scents in the room - potions ingredients, fabric, soap, human skin and sweat, and some sort of dirt or mustiness that had to come from the walls themselves - were combining with such intensity that he was sure he’d have a headache by the time they were done. He’d never even realized that something like fabric could have such a distinctive scent all its own.

“Close your eyes,” Snape directed.

Harry now had another reason to not want to be touched, as his own racing pulse had to be obvious to the man. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous. Of course, it wasn’t every day he allowed someone to enter his mind, and this was Snape. As he thought that, he felt something nudging at the corner of his consciousness, and it startled him so much that he tried to pull his arms away. Snape kept a firm hold, but it wasn’t so tight that he couldn’t get away if he tried harder, and repeated, “Relax. Breathe.” Harry stilled. He hesitantly closed his fingers around Snape’s arms and tried to breathe slowly and deeply.

It was difficult to keep his breathing steady when he felt what had to be Snape’s mind brushing against his own again. He did his best to relax, and the presence gradually became stronger until his mind suddenly felt…the only way he could describe it was full. But that wasn’t quite right. More like…

“Fused?” Snape asked aloud.

“You can read my thoughts?” Harry squeaked, trying to tamp down the sense of panic.

“Only your most conscious thoughts and feelings. What you are most actively thinking at this moment. And I apparently need to tell you to breathe again.”

Harry did just that. He focused all his energy on breathing and on thinking about breathing. The last thing he needed to do was think about something that he didn’t want Snape to know, like - No! Breathe. Think about breathing.

“Allow yourself a minute or two to become accustomed to the mind melding sensation. When you feel ready, attempt the exercise just as you tried it yesterday. Try not to alter it so that I may see which part is giving you difficulty.”

Harry kept focusing his energies and his thoughts on breathing. Only when he thought he couldn’t put it off anymore, he said, “Um…okay, so it said to start with a memory to pull up an emotion and-”

“Try to do it without verbal explanation,” Snape interrupted. “Focus your energies on the exercise itself. I will know what you are attempting to do.”

Harry took a deep breath and nodded even though he knew Snape couldn’t see him. But right away he hit a snag. He hadn’t thought to prepare a specific memory to use. Yesterday he hadn’t had to worry about Hermione and Ginny seeing his memories. Even now, trying hard not to think of the ones he’d used the day before, he knew he didn’t want Snape to view any of them.

“Memories tied to strong emotion are preferable,” Snape spoke out loud. “Negative or childhood emotions tend to work best for beginners, as they are very often heightened in their intensity. Might I suggest an early memory, perhaps one that I’ve already seen.”

An image of Aunt Marge’s dog flashed through his mind. Snape had already seen it chasing him up that tree during their lessons the year before. With a tinge of relief that he wouldn’t have to reveal any new memories for this to work, he tried to pull up the emotions that he had felt in that moment at nine years old. Fear, anger, humiliation, longing…he doubled back, not sure where the longing had come from. Then he remembered the Dursleys laughing at him, his longing to have a real family, to be lov- He slammed the door on that thought, circling back to the fear. He’d felt several emotions in that moment, but the fear had been the strongest. Ripper the bulldog had bitten him before - he had a scar on his leg to prove it - and he’d been certain it was going to kill him if it managed to get its jaws around him a second time.

As soon as he felt certain that he’d filled his mind with the fear of that moment, he concentrated on attempting to push the fear out of his mind and into his hands. Like before though, he couldn’t quite figure out how. He tensed his arms - but let up a bit when he caught himself squeezing Snape’s too tightly - and tried to somehow shift the emotion downward, from his mind into his extremities. Nearly shaking with the effort, he finally stopped, defeated. He started to open his eyes but slammed them shut, not sure if he was expected to keep trying.

“That was enough,” Snape said. “We will reverse the connection now. As you do not yet know how to initiate the melding process, I will guide your mind into mine. It will feel strange, but it will work best if you surrender to it.”

Harry made a sound that he hoped would be taken for agreement. Well, Snape had free access to his mind, so of course he knew it was agreement. A half-hearted agreement, anyway. He didn’t really want to see inside Snape’s mind. Or for Snape to be reading his thoughts while he thought about how much he didn’t want to see into Snape’s mind. To distract himself and to stop his thoughts from running wild, he asked, “Do you know what I did wrong?”

Snape hesitated before answering, “Perhaps my explanations will make more sense after you’ve seen a demonstration.”

Almost before he finished speaking, Harry felt a tug on his mind that was not unlike the tug around his navel that he’d felt during Portkey travel. He nearly wrenched an arm from Snape’s to steady himself on the floor again but managed not to. It really was the oddest sensation, as if his consciousness were traveling apart from his body, slowly merging with an unknown entity, almost becoming something or someone else. He involuntary jerked away from the entity, but it surrounded him again, slower this time, gently drawing him closer and closer until suddenly…they were one.

Harry drew in a panicked breath, and he didn’t know if the words relax and breathe drifting through his consciousness made it better or worse, since they clearly hadn’t come from his own mind. He took a few deep breaths, hating that his hands were shaking. He tentatively reached out mentally, doing his best to relax, trying to sense his unfamiliar surroundings. It was so different from his own mind, so…peaceful. Serene almost, which helped him to relax a bit more. There were no clear images to grab hold of, but he had the sense of a salt breeze, the sound of ocean waves. He didn’t know what he had imagined, but he certainly hadn’t expected Snape’s mind to be so…calm.

Not calm. Controlled. The words drifted through his mind, as if they were his own, though he knew that they weren’t.

“You can still hear my thoughts? I thought we were in your head now!”

“The connection can go both ways. My connection to your mind is not as strong as before, but I am able to retain enough connection to gauge your understanding of what you will see. No more talking now. This will work best if you concentrate your efforts on what you see and hear with your mind.”

Harry bit his lip on all of the questions that he wanted to ask. All too soon, he was distracted when the serene landscape of Snape’s mind began to change. Again, he couldn’t make out specific images, but he had the peculiar sensation of diving under a body of water, of light and peace giving way to darkness and a churning that he soon identified as a strong emotion. Sadness enveloped him so intensely that he gasped out loud. It lingered, and Harry got the sense that Snape was giving him time to get used to it before continuing.

He opened his mouth to ask a question, then snapped his lips shut.

Ask. When Harry made a move to speak aloud, Snape clarified through their connection, Mentally. Work on maintaining the mental connection. 

It took him some time to feel that he could think his own thoughts without getting lost in the blanket of sadness. He tentatively thought the questions, hoping he was sending them to Snape correctly. Why didn’t you have to use a memory to pull up your emotion? And why can’t I tell what you’re thinking except when you want to say specific things to me?

I have decades of experience controlling my mind, Potter, came the words directly into his mind, and Harry grinned at how even though he couldn’t hear a voice or its tone, he could tell they would be in Snape’s lecturing ‘you’re-a-dunderhead-aren’t-you?’ voice if spoken aloud. The calm is the result of Occlusion. I fashioned the landscape of my mind into what I wanted you to see. My true mind is obscured, invisible to the average Legilimens. The abilities to pull up emotion at will or to only allow those thoughts that I permit to rise to the surface are the result of years of practice.

Harry nodded, figuring that Snape could probably sense a mental nod somewhere in there.

After another minute of silence, of floating in the emotion, of Harry becoming deeply affected by the grief that bordered the wall of sadness, it began to shift and move. But it wasn’t a physical sensation of movement so much as a deepening of the grief. Its tendrils grabbed hold of Harry’s mind, became one with his own emotions, so that he was hardly aware when tears escaped from the corners of his eyes. He felt it invade every corner of his mind - no, Snape’s mind…it was becoming difficult to tell them apart - and he could feel it almost like a physical entity, spreading into the recesses of his heart and body, affecting his heart rate, causing his hands to tremble with its weight.

It lingered until Harry was certain he would collapse under its weight, and then it began to retreat, and in its retreat, Harry could finally sense the physicality of the emotion. He hardly noticed how his hands gripped Snape’s arms harder through the ebbing tide of sadness, as it withdrew from his body and from his consciousness until nothing remained save the calm scene that had first welcomed Harry upon entering Snape’s mind. It struck him then how through all of this - Snape’s intentional calm, his reaching for emotion, his deepening and lessening it at will - the one unifying element had been the sense of water. The serenity and crash of waves, the ebb and flow of tide, the choking sense of being drawn and caught under its power, even the powerful feeling of breaking through its surface.

He was so caught up in his observations and in the relief of peace after such overwhelming grief that it caught him by surprise when he felt another tug in his mind, more of a push this time, and he tried to follow its call, retreating to his own mind. He felt disoriented again, though not as badly as before. When he was sure that he and only he occupied his own mind, he opened his eyes and squinted into the light of the room.

Snape’s eyes were open and he was watching him carefully, probably gauging whether Harry had adjusted to the aftereffects of the mind meld. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, as he released Harry’s arms and moved back so that they were sitting a more comfortable distance apart. He held out Harry’s glasses.

Harry drew in a shaky breath that strongly reeked of salt and realized that his cheeks were wet. He hastily wiped the tears away with his sleeves, took the glasses, and put them on. Though he searched around for something to say to draw attention away from his tears, he still felt overwhelmed by all that he had experienced inside Snape’s mind. He’d never felt such overpowering grief before, except for maybe when Sirius…

“You can’t still read my mind, can you?” Harry asked, trying to empty his mind of thought just in case.

“No,” Snape said and then smirked. “But do not get too comfortable. We will discuss what you have learned, and then we will repeat the exercise.”

Snape conjured two glasses of clear liquid and held one out to Harry. “Drink,” he ordered and took a sip of his own as soon as Harry accepted the other. “Both your senses and your emotions will feel heightened until the effects of the potion wear off. Hydration will keep any disorientation at bay.”

“How long does the potion last?”

“Several hours, depending upon age and body mass. It will wear off far more quickly for me than for you.”

“Figures,” Harry groused half-heartedly, though he wasn’t upset. The explanation made sense. He tipped the glass to his lips but pulled it back with a grimace. “What is this? It smells like soap. And metal. And something else, something ronk. Is it another potion?”

“No,” Snape looked at him oddly as he took another sip from his own glass. “It is water.”

Harry eyed the drink skeptically and sniffed it again. It did not smell at all like water, but he experimentally took a sip - and promptly gagged. He hastily set it on the ground. He wasn’t that thirsty.

Snape eyed him thoughtfully for a moment and then pulled out his wand to conjure another glass, this time containing something orange. He held it out. Harry obediently took it and sniffed from a safe distance. “It’s pumpkin juice, isn’t it? But it’s got way more spices than usual. And somebody put soap in this one too.”

“You are smelling the dish soap that was used to wash the glasses.”

“Ew.” Harry sniffed again from a distance and pulled a face. “Is this from our kitchen? Maybe Dobby needs a break, if he’s not washing things properly.”

“The glass was washed and rinsed appropriately. All substances leave trace particles behind on the objects they touch, including soap, chemicals, food, sweat, and so on. The average nose cannot detect them. It is only due to the potion that you are able to now.”

Harry made a noncommittal noise. He wasn’t smelling a particle of soap. It was full-on soap.

“Tell me about the glass itself,” Snape instructed with a contemplative look.

“Um.” Harry didn’t know what Snape was after, but he examined the glass from each angle, trying to keep his distance from the pumpkin-soap juice. “It’s clear. Round. Made of glass?”

“What does it feel like?”

“Cool. Cold. It feels weird, like my fingers are cold too. Not in the usual way, like a glass making my fingers cold, but like as soon as I touched it, my fingers were the same temperature as the glass.” He looked up. “Is that weird?”

“No,” Snape shook his head. “It is merely your sense of touch being somewhat amplified. Tell me about the texture.”

“Uh…smooth?”

“Can you feel grooves or imperfections in the glass? Other than its temperature, do you feel anything that causes your hand discomfort?”

“No. Why? Should I?” Harry didn’t bother keeping the confusion from his voice. “What does this have to do with Occlumency?”

Snape tapped his fingers on his own glass as he studied Harry. He definitely had his puzzle-figuring face on now. He took another sip from his glass, then plucked Harry’s glass from his fingers and set both to the side. “Nothing at the moment. We will discuss it another time. For now, we must continue with the lesson at hand. The potion should be utilized while still at its peak effectiveness. Now, do you understand what I did and how I did it?”

Harry eyed Snape for a few seconds, considering the pros and cons of letting him change the subject while Harry’s curiosity was still piqued, but he caved. He leaned back on his hands while he thought it over. “Your emotion was stronger than mine. But…I don’t think it’s because I chose a weak emotion. More like…I think I really didn’t give myself over to mine completely, not like you did.”

“Correct,” Snape nodded. “Emotions are not playthings. They have power. But in order to harness that power, you must learn how to let it exert power over you.”

“How…” Harry paused, thinking it over. “How do you stay in control when you let something else have power over you? I don’t understand.” Harry shrugged as well as he could with his weight on his arms.

“The control is in how you choose to harness the emotion. When you hesitated to give in to it, showed a fear of losing yourself in it, you were allowing it control over you.”

Harry shifted his weight onto one arm so that he could scratch an itch on his nose as he thought. “What’s to stop me losing myself in it? If I give myself over to the emotion, any emotion… How can I be in control if it’s in control of me?”

“Practice,” said Snape, and Harry wanted to roll his eyes at how professor-like he sounded.

Still, Harry sat up, readying himself to mind meld again. “Okay. Once more, then?”

Snape shook his head. “Not yet. Tell me what else you noticed. I know you made at least one other discovery.”

“Um…” Harry squinted his eyes as he thought through the experience of being in Snape’s mind - the part of his mind that he let him into, anyway. He could tell by the look in Snape’s eyes that he was prompting Harry for something specific. Which meant Harry’d probably thought it while still in his mind. “Oh! Yeah. Water. I don’t even know how to describe it, it’s not like I saw water or anything. I felt it though. You used it somehow in everything you did. You used the idea of water to create the calm, and to pull up your emotion, and to move it. Didn’t you?”

Snape inclined his head. “The mind is complex. If you can find something concrete to tie it to - preferably something powerful or elemental - it will aid in your attempts to control it.”

“Elemental,” Harry repeated slowly. “Like…water, fire, earth, and air? Those elements?”

“One of those is a good place to start,” agreed Snape, “but I would avoid water. It works for me, but should you come face to face with the Dark Lord, it would not do for him to see too many similarities to my mind in yours.”

Harry almost asked why it would matter since Snape wasn’t a spy anymore, but he thought better of it. Not only was it probably a touchy subject, but who knew what the future had in store? If anybody had the intelligence and cunning to somehow get his spy status back, it was Severus Snape. Or maybe it was simply a good idea to keep Voldemort from knowing how much his former follower was helping out his worst enemy.

He cocked his head to the side, thinking through the elements. Water was out. He wasn’t sure how earth would work. He tried to imagine shifting sand or rolling meadows, but they didn’t feel right. Fire might work…but the violence of flames ripping through his mind made him shiver. Air… He closed his eyes and pulled up the breeze of the ocean air that he’d felt in Snape’s mind, imagined it twist and turn into something else - a wind storm, a whirlwind, a mountain breeze. He opened his eyes to find Snape patiently watching him. Well. Air was worth a try, anyway.

“Now?” He asked, flexing his fingers. “Or is there more I should know before I try again?”

Snape moved forward so that their knees were nearly touching again. “You are taking the physical movement of emotion too literally. You do not need to attempt to move it so much as to channel it. This time, attempt to use it to affect a physical change in your body, such as your heart rate or blood flow.”

At Harry’s skeptical look, Snape added, “Focus on the intensity of the emotion and try using your chosen element to shift it through your consciousness.”

Harry sighed softly. The bits about giving himself over to the emotion and changing the way he thought about its physical nature made sense to him, even if he wasn’t sure he could do them yet. But he wasn’t quite sure what he was even supposed to do with the element of air once he pulled it up in his mind. Snape had made it look so easy that it seemed a part of him, not something he purposely manipulated.

Snape motioned for Harry to hold out his hands like before, and soon their wrists were clasped, their eyes were closed, and Harry felt the nudge of Snape’s mind at the edge of his. It was just as odd as before, but as soon as he was sure Snape’s mind was completely merged with his own, he pulled up the memory of Ripper the bulldog. He lingered on his memories of the dog’s open jaws chasing him for a few seconds, considering the best way to pull up the fear so that he’d be able to really feel it, like Snape had his sadness. No matter how he tried though, he couldn’t quite let it consume him.

Snape was silent, allowing Harry to work through it. Of course, he was wary to think through anything too much, so long as Snape was there to witness it. But when Snape didn’t make a move to mock him even though he couldn’t have missed Harry thinking about Snape mocking him, he hesitantly gave the problem some real thought. Finally, he decided to go back further, to the first time Ripper had bit him. Maybe the source of the fear would work better for him than the later memory. Snape had said that childhood memories were more intense anyway. He’d been younger then, so…

He was seven. Aunt Marge had brought her new puppy the previous year, but it had grown since then, and it growled at Harry as soon as Marge walked through the door. It was almost Christmas, and Harry was exhausted from cleaning for Aunt Marge’s visit, so he backed up, trying to avoid notice by blending in with the tree. Unfortunately, he tripped over one of Dudley’s many presents, sprawling backwards and hitting his head on the end table. He’d no sooner registered the pain in his head than he felt a white-hot pain in his leg and looked down to see Ripper’s jaws clenched on his calf. He barely heard Aunt Marge’s screams - not at Ripper, but at Harry’s clumsiness for making her dear, darling dog uneasy - and Dudley’s laughter before he felt a blinding fear that this was it, this was the moment Uncle Vernon made good on all his threats. Surely he would let the bulldog kill him, and he wouldn’t have to bother with feeding and housing Harry anymore, and and…

Harry pulled up the fear, imagined it whirling up through his body like a twister, taking over his mind and his heart. He trembled with the sudden force of emotion, made stronger by the nightmares he’d had the rest of that Christmas week, alone and sore in his cupboard in the pitch dark, his childish mind conjuring up scenario after scenario in which they unlocked the cupboard door only to let Ripper in to finish the job. He tried not to think about whether he was using the emotion correctly, just focused on becoming fear itself, on it pulsing through his veins, until his breath was coming in sharp gasps.

He felt the presence in his mind whisper against his then. Release the fear. Draw yourself away from its hold. Feel it retreat.

He tried to listen to the voice. He pushed against the fear, drew himself away from it, tried to imagine the twister softening into a fierce wind, fragments of fear coiling away from him into its pull. He couldn’t push it all away though. He tried to pull up a sort of calm like Snape had in his mind, imagining a gentle breeze whistling through his mind, soothing away his fears. But for all his efforts, he could still feel remnants of the fear his seven-year old mind had felt in that moment long ago.

He gave up after several minutes of deep breaths and opened his eyes to find Snape’s eyes already open and watching him. Staring at him, actually, and he looked incredulous, even a little bit angry. Perhaps it was the last vestige of emotion clinging to him, but Harry cringed out of habit, not sure what he’d done to deserve anger this time. Snape released his arms, and Harry felt the last threads of their mental connection snap so suddenly that he felt another twinge of disorientation. He put out a hand to steady himself just in case.

Snape stood and started pacing, and Harry decided to wait him out. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had done, but it didn’t seem like a good idea to goad the professor. Snape seemed maybe to even be trying to calm himself down. Finally, he stopped and glared at Harry.

“Were you even trying last year?” he spat.

Harry was so surprised by the question that he simply stared.

“You’re a natural,” Snape said accusingly, glaring daggers at Harry. “Wild and untrained, yes. Your mind is completely disorderly and wholly untamed. But the building blocks are there - the natural talent. You have the makings of an Occlumens. Which leads me to the conclusion that you didn’t even try to put effort into practicing last year!”

Harry gaped. Only Snape could compliment Harry and accuse him in the same breath. And sure, he was right that Harry hadn’t tried all that hard last year. But wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black! He wasn’t about to let it go without reminding the professor of that, either. “Well maybe if someone had explained what I was supposed to do last year, I’d have actually known how to practice!”

“Don’t you blame me-”

“Why not?” Harry shot to his feet. “You were my teacher! How was I supposed to know how to clear my mind if you never taught me how? Just clear your mind, Potter, repel my attacks, Potter, over and over, and not ever once helping me to figure out how!”

Snape glared at him but didn’t answer right away, and Harry was just fine with that. He was losing some of his steam because the room was beginning to tilt in a way that he was fairly certain it wasn’t supposed to do. He shot out his arms to balance himself, but Snape caught him by the elbow before he could fall over.

“Sit, you foolish boy,” Snape muttered as he helped an unsteady Harry to sit down. “The potion is still in full effect. Until it wears off, do not test it by making sudden movements.” He seemed to have lost his steam as well, for an instant later, he lowered himself back to the floor across from Harry.

They eyed each other warily for several moments, until Harry finally looked away. “You’re right,” he quietly admitted. “I didn’t practice like I should have. But I swear, I really didn’t understand how. Even though I know I should have tried to figure it out, should have wanted it more, that part is true.”

Snape took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know,” he admitted, surprising Harry into looking up. “Now. I didn’t want to see it then, but I know now.” The professor looked about as sincere as Harry had ever seen him.

Harry gave a tentative smile…and watched Snape’s wall go back up. But he thought it maybe wasn’t quite so formidable as before, so he left a trace of a smile on his face, sat up straight, and asked, “Okay, what next?”