1996

“Come here.”

“Sir?” Harry questioned, unprepared for the quiet command.

“Proximity increases the ability to open another’s mind.” Snape paused as he noted Harry’s skeptical look. “The Dark Lord is not an average Legilimens and the connection between the two of you is unique,” he explained, sounding slightly less patient than he had a moment earlier.

“But then I don’t need to be near Voldemort to block him out, right?”

“No, you do not. You do however need to learn to block out anyone at all and that will require you to—come here!” Snape’s impatience overflowed as he tersely repeated his command. Harry felt his feet moving forward automatically, and then he cursed himself for his easy compliance. If the Professor noticed Harry’s resentment, he didn’t comment on it.

When Harry was close enough to Snape, the Potions Master grasped Harry’s upper arm firmly and unceremoniously plopped him on the couch. “Ow!” Harry yelped and Snape snatched his hand away as though he had been burned.

There was a short silence before Snape spoke again. “You will need a mental image,” he said stiffly. His eyes were averted as Harry rubbed at his arm absently; it hadn’t really hurt that much, he wanted to tell the Professor, but dammit, why did the man have to be so pushy?

“What sort of image?” he finally ventured.

Snape turned his gaze back to Harry. “One that will allow you to focus. You will need to choose an image that will not distract you. I will show you.”

Snape sat down on the sofa next to Harry, leaving several inches of space between them. He angled himself so that he and Harry were facing. The Professor drew his wand from his robe and brought it slowly toward Harry’s temple. Harry tried very hard not to flinch, waiting on an indrawn breath for Snape to hiss, ‘Legilimens’ at him. Instead, the man said quietly, “It will work best at first if we are in contact with one another.” He paused and said gruffly, “I will not hurt you.”

Harry’s stomach lurched; he had not meant to make the man feel badly, but the pain in Snape’s voice was unmistakable. “Okay,” he managed to say and then tensed under Snape’s steady gaze.

With an almost gentle movement, the Professor’s course fingers were lightly cupping the back of his head and again Harry couldn’t help the tension that stiffened his body. Snape, seeming to sense Harry’s reservation, said quietly, “This will not be like the invasion it was before.” Harry instinctively relaxed at the reassurance and the Professor tilted Harry’s head up a fraction so that he was staring deep into the black eyes.

And then Snape’s wand was pressed gently against Harry’s temple and a whispered spell broke the stillness. Harry sucked in a sharp breath as he felt a warm glow entering his mind. The warmth gathered around his thoughts, and slowly grew in its intensity, becoming a slow burn, a flame that flickered against Harry’s insistence that he be left alone. But the flames brightened and the warmth began to fill him, soothing the aching memories at the forefront of his mind.

As if the flames were tentacles, fiery fingers reached themselves around Harry’s troubled memories, plunging them downward as they gripped, pushing them under the fire that now raged inside him, until Harry felt cleansed, whole again. Tentatively, the flames licked at the easy memory of Ron, groping under his bed for a shoe, his face tensed up in a frown, of Hermione with her hands clasped together as she explained that Snape had loved Lily, and Hedwig swooping down from the rafters in the Great Hall, bringing him a letter.

As Harry relaxed, the flames reared up again, pulling the innocuous memories up, above the flames and set them free again. Then the flames steadied, dimming slightly and flickering gently once more and Harry felt at peace, as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

Gently, with a slight and silent whoosh, the flames flickered once, twice, and then died out completely. Slowly, gradually the buried memories trickled back into Harry’s consciousness. Harry opened his eyed dazedly; Snape was staring at him, seeming lost in himself. Snape’s hand still held Harry’s head firmly. Coming back to himself, the Professor blinked slowly and drew his fingers from the hair at Harry’s nape, where sometime during the last minutes, they had intertwined themselves.

And then Snape’s features sharpened. “You told your friends,” he accused and instantly all of Harry’s ease vanished.

“It was before you told me not to,” Harry said quickly, hoping Snape would leave it.

“So you are capable of following simple instructions, then?” Snape sneered.

Harry balled his fists while his face flushed deeply. “Well, I’ve been following your stupid instructions for years, haven’t I?” he retorted

Snape’s eyes glinted, though this time in distinct anger. “As I recall, your inability to follow instructions led to the disaster at the Ministry of Magic last year,” he drawled and Harry surged to his feet.

“It was because of your complete absence of any teaching ability that I couldn’t learn Occlumency worth a damn! It was all because you couldn’t get over your jealousy of James that Voldemort was able to enter my mind at all!” Harry’s voice was well into the range of a shout and by that time Snape was also on his feet, glaring down at him.

“Jealousy, Potter?” he hissed. “James Potter took my family from me-”

“He didn’t take anything!” Harry shouted right over him. “Voldemort and your mother killed my mum and I’m standing right here, Snape!”

Snape’s fists were also clenched in rage as he snarled, “You will not address me in that manner.”

“How would you like me to address you then?” Harry asked in a fair imitation of the Potions Master’s sneer. “How about ‘daddy’ just like I used to? Or would that be too painful for you? Merlin knows we’re all dancing around your feelings so much, it’s not even clear you have any feelings at all!” Ignoring the tears that were threatening to spring to his eyes, Harry turned toward the Floo.

“Where are you going?” Snape demanded harshly.

Harry ignored him and continued toward the fireplace.

“Accio Floo Powder,” Snape snapped and Harry had to duck to avoid being smacked in the head by the ebony box that whizzed off the mantel.

Harry spun around. “Hey!” he objected. But then, with determination born of fury, Harry turned again and marched toward Snape’s door.

“If you wish me to put you in a full Body Bind, by all means, continue on toward that door,” Snape said, his voice deadly calm.

Although fully aware that the Potions Master would most certainly follow through on his threat, Harry took another step.

“Petrificus-”

“Oh, all right!” Harry shouted, spinning to face Snape again and the Professor calmly lowered his wand as if he hadn’t been about to hex his own son. Harry folded his arms angrily across his chest. “So, now I’m a prisoner?” he asked sarcastically.

Inexplicably, Snape’s lip curled slightly and Harry narrowed his eyes. “No, you are not a prisoner. But, you are going to stay here until we are finished with your lesson.”

Harry sagged a little. “You want to go on with this?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as he could manage.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Despite my ‘complete absence of any teaching ability’, you mean?” he enquired.

Harry stiffened. “Well, you didn’t teach me last year at all, did you?” he asked, his tone not quite reaching sarcasm.

Snape regarded him silently. “I was not prepared last year.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. He knew further probing would likely make the Professor angry again, and as he was glad they were no longer shouting at one another, he kept his questions to himself and simply nodded. Snape, in return, gave him a very strange look and Harry had to look away as his throat constricted. “I should have listened to you last year,” he said quietly.

“It would not have helped,” Snape returned after a pause, his voice matter of fact.

Harry chanced a glance at the Professor. Snape sighed and gestured jerkily for Harry to sit. Harry sat cautiously again on the sofa, his eyes trained on Snape. “My methods last term were inappropriate to the situation. You are correct that I was blinded by my hatred of James Potter.”

Harry stared at him in utter incomprehension. “Sir?”

“It is not your fault that Black died. I did not mean to imply as much,” Snape told him, his face as still as Harry had ever seen it. And then abruptly Snape asked, “Shall we continue?” Harry nodded, not able to find his voice. “This time, I will be inside your mind, only to guide you as you secure your own thoughts, with your own anchor.”

“But, I don’t know how to do that, sir. How do I choose an image?” Harry asked quietly, still very unsure of how Snape would react to his display of incompetence.

“You misunderstand,” Snape said. Harry tilted his head in confusion, not least because Snape had pointed out a flaw without a trace of a sneer. “You need not purposely choose an image. As you Occlude your mind and bury your thoughts, the image should come naturally to you.”

More confused than ever, Harry shook his head. “I’m sorry, sir, but I still don’t understand.”

“I told you that I would show you,” Snape said, with a touch of impatience. “You will open your mind to me,” he said shortly and again, Snape’s hand reached out to take hold of the back of Harry’s neck. This time, Harry brought his head up on his own so that he could look into the Professor’s eyes. The Potions Master nodded once and brought his wand to Harry’s temple.

“Patefacio vestri mens,” Snape whispered and again Harry felt the warmth of Snape’s presence glowing in his mind. “Loco vestri poena absentis.” The warmth gathered around Harry’s thoughts and then among the flames, a mist began to gather, coming together in substance, dark and wet as it coalesced.

Put your thoughts away. Harry started at the silent suggestion. And then one of the bright flames flicked out toward the gathering storm. It wrapped its fiery strands around the cloud, stretching it to fill Harry’s mind.

Sirius floated above the raging cloud, falling over and over into the veil. The fingered flames reached out for the memory of Sirius and Harry watched as it was tugged out of sight behind the cloud. Cedric appeared next, his face staring unseeingly up into Harry’s eyes and this time, before Snape’s fiery tendrils could interfere, Harry forced the memory away through the gray mist. All of Harry’s most painful memories, swiftly now, were paraded down into the cloud, streaking by so that they were nothing more than a blur. And finally, there was Voldemort, peering at Harry from red snake-like eyes, hovering with deranged glee while Harry writhed against the ground. With a silent cry of anguish, Harry shoved the bastard through the foamy black.

Remus smiled at Harry happily as he stepped from the Floo in Dumbledore’s office and Fred and George whizzed above the cloud wall on their brooms, fireworks bursting behind them. Happiness filled Harry once more as the memories guarded the clouds like sentinels until finally, Harry heard, as if from far away in a dream, “Paro lemma solvo,” and the dormant flames set the cloud ablaze. The mist burst open and Harry’s memories hurtled out to crush the cheerful throng above.

With a great gulp of air, Harry lurched forward as the violent memories assaulted him, catching him unaware and he cried out in pain. Strong arms steadied him while he dragged in jagged breaths. “Breathe slowly,” a strong voice commanded him and Harry obeyed, pulling in a long breath and letting the air out of his lungs in a slow hiss. Another slow breath and another and Harry was becoming once more aware of his surroundings.

Heavy hands on his shoulder gave Harry a gentle squeeze….Snape’s hands. Then the hands pulled away and Harry gripped the back of the sofa for support as the unlikely comfort was withdrawn. “What happened?”

“Exactly what was supposed to happen. You Occluded your mind so that the only thoughts available to another were the ones you allowed to remain above your shield.”

“Clouds?” Harry asked, bewildered by the timidity of such an image.

“A storm, to be precise…a formidable defense.”

But Harry shook his head. “But you broke through it easily.”

“You had already allowed me access to your mind. I was there to guide you,” Snape reminded him. “Eventually, you will be the only one able to bring the buried memories to the surface again.”

Harry considered that with a frown. “Why didn’t you show me how to do that to begin with?” he asked before he could stop himself, though he supposed he already knew the answer.

Snape pursed his lips. “I believe I already said my methods were not opportune to the task, did I not?”

“I guess,” Harry agreed, though he didn’t feel that explanation had counted for much. After all, it wasn’t even really an answer. “So then…your image is fire?” he asked, struggling for something to say.

“Flames,” Snape corrected instantly as though he expected Harry to be able to understand the obviously much too subtle difference. Harry shrugged and Snape studied him for a long moment before saying, “Your image bears a marked resemblance to the storm that overtook you during your third year when Dementors attended your Quidditch match.”

Snape’s expression was thoughtful, prompting Harry to remember little more than a year ago when the skies in Little Whinging had darkened in a similar way. He shuddered as he thought of the Dementors, so close to giving him and his cousin a very unpleasant Kiss.

“The idea disturbs you?” Snape asked, eyes still intently watching Harry.

Harry shook his head. “Not exactly. I was just remembering the Dementors last summer,” he explained.

“Ah.” Snape inclined his head in a satisfied sort of way.

Harry leaned forward on the sofa, intrigued. “Does that mean something to you?” he asked, his voice tinged with excitement.

Snape pulled back slightly before answering. “Dementors were, I believe, your worst fear when you faced the Boggart in Lupin’s class, correct?”

“How did you know about that?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“You would be unsurprised, I am sure, to learn that you are the topic of many conversations during staff meetings,” Snape informed him coolly.

Harry’s neck flushed with embarrassment. “Brilliant,” he muttered, fiddling agitatedly with one of the pillows on the sofa.

“That does not please you?” the Professor asked in some surprise.

Harry looked up from the pillow. “Would you want to be the center of all the gossip in the wizarding world?” Harry asked, though there was no heat in the question, only resignation.

Snape regarded him again with that thoughtful expression. “No.”

“You were saying…about the Dementors?” Harry asked, uncomfortable under the Potions Master’s scrutiny.

Snape nodded briskly. “Fear is a powerful emotion. Twice, you fought off a Dementor attack…brought down your greatest fear. It makes sense that you would use an image of fear defeated, as your shield.”

“Twice?” Harry inquired, feigning misunderstanding at Snape’s count.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You defeated Dementors after you went back in time to rescue Black,” he reminded him.

Harry groaned, “Do you know everything?” he implored in dismay.

“More than you would wish, certainly,” Snape replied, a hint of a smirk around his mouth. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Well that’s just bloody magnificent,” he told the Professor sourly.

“Yes,” Snape said seriously.

xxxxx

The Floo erupted across from where Severus sat watching the quizzical expression spread over Harry’s face. Severus turned and raised an eyebrow at Albus’ jolly face.

“Albus,” Severus greeted, not having expected the Headmaster.

“Severus, my boy...and, Harry! How felicitous. May I step through, Severus?” the old wizard inquired. Severus stood and nodded, gesturing for the Headmaster to come in.

Albus came through the flames without a trace of soot on his yellow robes. Nevertheless, he brushed the pristine robes and sat across from Harry.

“Good evening, sir,” Harry said politely.

“It is indeed, Harry. Now, has your father had a chance to tell you about Draco, yet?”

Severus noted that Harry shifted uncomfortably. He recovered quickly, answering with a shake of his head, “No, sir.”

Albus pierced Severus with a hard stare before continuing, “No matter, my boy. Perhaps, Severus, you would care to explain now?”

Severus held himself erect. “I would not,” he told Albus stiffly.

Albus favored Harry with an amused glance before saying to Severus, “I think the entire situation would benefit from Harry’s help, don’t you think?”

“I think Albus, that as Harry has not yet mastered Occlumency, it would be best if he did not acquire any more dangerous information.” Severus chose not to notice Harry’s startled glance.

Albus’ old blue eyes twinkled absurdly. “You’ve resumed Harry’s training, then?” At Severus’ curt nod, Albus clapped his hands together. “Wonderful, wonderful,” he said happily.

“Was there something you wanted, Albus?” Severus inquired in a restrained growl.

“Of course, Severus. Why else would I barge in here during your personal time?”

“Well?” Severus all but barked when the Headmaster continued to smile at them.

Albus looked affronted but of course Severus saw past the idiotic ploy. He waited, with his arms folded, hands clasping elbows while the Headmaster smiled at Harry. “Impatient, your father,” he told the boy with a knowing nod. Harry’s lips twitched before he broke out in a smile and for the third time that evening, Severus had to restrain a smile of his own.

Albus turned back to Severus, still smiling and handed the Potions Master a tiny vial filled with a viscous silvery-white liquid. Severus nodded tersely and glanced pointedly toward the Floo. Albus, of course didn’t take the hint. “I was successful,” the Headmaster said unnecessarily. Severus almost rolled his eyes at the comment. Of course Albus had been successful...why else would he give him a vial full of memories if he had failed in his task.

“I will view it immediately,” Severus told the Headmaster. Albus nodded.

“Excellent, Severus. Well, Harry, I’m off again, I’m afraid. I am delighted to see you and Severus finding your way together.” Harry nodded, though the boy’s movements seemed unnatural to Severus. “Good night,” Albus told them both with a nod and then he stepped through the Floo again and was whisked away to secure the one thing that might be able to save Severus’ son.

“You’re still not going to tell me about Malfoy?” Harry asked as the Floo’s green flames died away.

Severus placed Albus’ vial of memories in an inside pocket of his robes. “No,” he told the boy.

Harry tapped his forefinger against one of the sofa’s pale blue cushions. “Hmmm….what could Malfoy be scheming?” he mused.

Severus shook his head. “He is not scheming. And, as I recall, there is still the matter of your having ignored my orders not to leave the tower last night.”

Severus was surprised when Harry smiled at him. “Very Slytherin, Professor.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That’s the third time you’ve changed a subject to avoid talking about something.” Harry shrugged, “But, it’s alright. I’m pretty good at figuring things out…well, with Hermione’s help anyway,” he finished breezily.

Severus glared at the boy. “You will do no such thing,” he said, allowing his voice to showcase an echo of menace.

Harry’s green eyes grew calculating and Severus narrowed his own eyes in response. “Fine,” Harry told him and Severus clenched his jaw.

“Do you wish your idiocy to get someone killed?” Severus snapped, thoroughly irritated at Harry’s false attempt to placate him. Instantly, a frost settled over the boy’s face.

“May I go?” the boy asked, his voice absolute ice.

Severus wanted to say no, he could very well not go, but there seemed little point in allowing the remainder of the evening to deteriorate. Severus didn’t answer, though he did walk into the Floo with quick steps. Harry hesitated. “You’re coming with me?” he asked, his tone returned somewhat to its normal warmth.

“I will go with you to the lab. Then you may leave.” Harry flinched and Severus stepped out of the Floo in one swift movement. Harry backed up, fear flashing in his eyes. Severus stopped abruptly. This was impossible.

Severus held the box of Floo Powder out to the boy and offered quietly, “You may go alone, if you wish,” Occluding his thoughts so that he did not give away the hurt that threatened to erupt.

Harry stared at him. “I-alright, sir,” he agreed, his shoulders slumping. Harry took a pinch of the Powder and turned slowly back to the fireplace. Before throwing down the Floo Powder, he said on a whispered breath, “I won’t do anything about Malfoy, sir.”

And then his son went up in flames. With a hissed curse, Severus flung the box he was holding against the floor. The delicate ebony shattered into tiny shards as the green Floo Powder glittered its way across the cold stone floor.

xxxxx

“Harry.”

Harry, about to make an attempt to dismantle the Professor’s spells on the classroom door, gripped his wand convulsively and turned abruptly at the sound of his name on Snape’s tongue. The Potions Master was standing in the door to his office, rigid; his face was blank.

“Yes sir?” Harry queried, his voice wobbly.

Snape stared at the opposite wall as he said, “I do not wish you to leave like this.” Harry couldn’t think of a coherent response to that, so he just waited. Snape darted a quick glance in his direction and then drew in a stilted breath. “I spoke out of turn.”

Harry closed his eyes, allowing Ginny’s face to float in front of his eyes, trying to somehow pull from the image some sort of inkling of what he should do. He knew of course what Ginny would urge, so he took a breath and plunged in. “It’s all right, sir,” he said, keeping his jaw relaxed as he spoke, giving nothing away.

Snape pivoted swiftly. He stared, his dark eyes penetrating. “So like your mother,” he murmured so quietly that Harry knew he wasn’t really speaking to him. The words set his insides aglow anyway. Snape lifted his chin a fraction and said evenly, “I will arrange for you to meet me in Lupin’s classroom Thursday night. You will need to tell your friends that you are receiving preparatory training.”

Harry nodded, “To give me an edge against Voldemort?” he asked with a thoughtful frown.

“You already have an edge,” Snape said, to which Harry furrowed his brow but he nodded as well. “I believe however, that is the best course of action,” he nodded. “I do not think we can use the same excuse as last year.”

“Yeah, it was a bit unbelievable that Professor Snape would spare his free time to give me lessons,” Harry said with a light smile.

“So my Slytherins told me,” Snape returned easily. Harry’s smile stretched a bit. “It is almost curfew,” the Professor reminded him abruptly.

“Right. Thank you, sir,” Harry put in automatically and Snape looked momentarily confused, to which Harry suppressed a chuckle. “Could you undo your spells, sir?” he asked with a wave toward the heavy door.

Snape flicked his wand without speaking and the dungeon door creaked open.

“Good night, Professor.” Snape merely nodded and Harry, understanding, nodded in return and hurried out into the corridor.