1996

It had been over a week since his first Occlumency lesson and Harry didn’t know when he’d last felt so tired. He had told all of his friends about his “extra training” with Remus, which had inevitably led to Harry starting up the D.A. again. His friends had begged and pleaded with Harry for three days before Harry finally gave in and asked Remus to become their advisor for the inflated group of students. Remus, of course, had agreed readily and the eager young witches and wizards had gathered in the Room of Requirement twice during the past week.

Harry met with Snape two nights as well, leaving him only one free evening, all of which he’d spent with his nose buried in his textbooks. He was beginning to feel a bit like Hermione. Occlumency was going surprisingly well, after the slightly uncomfortable tension of their second session, during most of which Snape had spoken only to give Harry terse commands.

The third time had been much easier; Harry and Snape hadn’t exchanged a single cross word, excluding of course Snape’s random snide remarks. Harry was growing used to the snark, as well as the man who delivered them with such practiced ease. He was even beginning to feel some inkling of fondness for the Professor, and Harry was almost certain Snape felt the same way, though Harry had noticed with a bit of wariness that the man hadn’t called him ‘Harry’ since that first night.

It was as though the Professor had buried every trace of emotion far beneath his shields. Harry hadn’t noticed even once a hint of anything other than endless black in the man’s eyes. Harry knew the last words they had exchanged that first night had cost Snape dearly and he was obviously not going to recover easily.

Harry sighed as he circled the Pitch. He had almost decided he was too tired to accept McGonagall’s decision that Harry become the Captain of this year’s Quidditch Team. He had gone to see Remus after she’d asked, moaning that he was too swamped to take this on as well. Remus had listened patiently and then asked if Harry wanted to play Quidditch at all this year to which he’d answered, “Of course!” rather indignantly. And then the sneaky sod had asked smoothly, “And you’d like Katie Bell to be Captain?” Harry had scowled at his friend and taken the hint.

Harry had almost lost his nerve two nights ago, when Snape had frowned in disapproval when Harry had mentioned his Quidditch plans.

“I do not think it wise to take on so much this term. You need to focus on your training,” Snape had said immediately when Harry had told him about McGonagall’s choice.

Harry had tilted his head and asked, “Are you telling me I can’t?”, having no idea why he would even ask. It wasn’t as if Snape had any authority to forbid him playing Quidditch after all.

Snape, in response, had pursed his lips and said stiffly, “You should do as you think best.” and then shortly afterwards, the Professor had ended the lesson much earlier than usual. Harry had left feeling very confused.

Later that night, he’d relayed the entire conversation to Ginny, who had explained patiently that Snape obviously felt uncomfortable in the floundering role he found himself in—hovering somewhere between parent and teacher. Harry had considered that and realized after a bit that he had been hoping for some sort of advice from Snape about what to do. And obviously, that had been far too much to expect from the prickly Professor.

“Harry! Come on down!” Ron called from far below him on the grass. Harry nodded though of course his friend couldn’t see him. He turned the nose of his broom toward the ground and nudged it forward so that he was streaking toward the ground.

xxxxx

Severus surveyed the Quidditch pitch quickly until he caught sight of his son, soaring high above the Pitch in lazy circles. Severus tensed in remembered discomfort of the last time Harry had flown his broom, ending up in the Hospital Wing. Why did the boy have to enjoy this blasted game so much? It was a waste of time, Severus insisted to himself; Harry had more pressing matters to attend to, not least of which was staying alive long enough to defeat the Dark Lord.

Feeling vaguely anxious, the Potions Master scanned the stands and then walked with hurried steps to where he could see his Slytherins settling in to spy on the Gryffindor Team. Absolutely no stealth at all. Severus shook his head slightly at the egregious inadequacies inherent in his young students. The fools were not even able to restrain their surprise when their professor walked into their midst, sitting himself without a word next to Draco.

Severus ignored the children as they eyed one another, glancing furtively at him in between. Unsurprisingly, it was young Malfoy who cleared his throat and asked, “Professor? What are you doing here, sir?”

Severus looked at him askance. “Enjoying the fine September weather,” he told him;

Draco grinned.

“Of course, sir. As are we,” he said, breathing deeply in through his nostrils to emphasize the truth of his words.

“Yeah, sir, the pitch is the best place to admire the autumn colours,” Zabini added with a smirk of his own. The rest of the Slytherins laughed raucously at their friend. Severus ignored them, keeping his focus on Harry’s form as the boy flew absurdly higher on his broom.

Severus watched Harry as he looked down at a shout from Weasley, who was calling for the boy to come down. Yes, Severus wanted to urge, come down from that ridiculous thing. He said nothing as he watched in silence as Harry started a nose dive that hurtled him toward the earth. Severus’ heart lurched into his throat as he watched the boy stretching closer and closer to the ground.

Severus’ hand itched as he readied himself to perform a wandless and silent ‘Arresto Momento’ on his son. But only centimeters from the grass, Harry pulled up on his broom handle abruptly and hopped down, grinning from ear to ear. Severus gritted his teeth, wishing he could rebuke the boy for his reckless behavior. A sound admonishment would have to wait however, until he and Harry were next together privately.

“Wow,” Zabini breathed beside him, obviously impressed with Harry’s skill.

“Show off,” Draco muttered, glaring at Harry, who was by now surrounded by a throng of his fellow Gryffindors…and Lupin, Severus noted sourly. He watched in readily growing agitation as Lupin clapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry was still grinning, until the youngest Weasley leaned into to say something in Harry’s ear. Harry’s face stilled and his eyes darted up to where Severus and his Slytherins were watching. Severus pursed his lips as Harry’s lips curved into a sort of dazed smile. Obviously their Occlumency training was not going as well as Severus had believed, if the boy could manage only to hide his surprise as well as Severus’ tempestuous Slytherins.

“What’s Potter grinning about?” Draco demanded, much more agitated than he should have been by the simple smile. Severus filed the information away and continued to watch his son intently. Even at this distance, Severus could see clearly that Harry’s face had warmed with a slight flush and then the boy was nodding at something Lupin was saying to him. Finally, as though held by a magnetic force, his son dragged his eyes away from Severus’ glare.

“All right, everyone here for tryouts, line up under the goalposts!” Harry barked out in a commanding tone and the other students scrambled to obey. Severus had to bite back a smile as he watched.

The students there only as spectators, turned away from Harry and wound their way through the seats to find places to watch. Lupin was among them. Severus tracked Lupin’s movements surreptitiously, until the other man turned and then he was staring, unblinking, at Severus. The werewolf smiled at him, his weathered face suffused with humor and Severus scowled in return before turning abruptly back to the pitch.

Harry was giving instructions to the first group of Gryffindors which included both Weasleys and Ms. Bell of last year’s team. Severus continued to watch as Harry signaled the group up and then Harry was kicking off the ground and soaring upward toward the clouds.

“Is Dumbledore still out?”

Severus turned toward Draco sharply, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Draco wasn’t looking at him, but staring intently at the little team above the pitch, his eyes following their progress. When Severus didn’t answer, Draco turned his head slightly and raised his eyebrows insolently.

Severus turned back to the scene above him. “I do not believe that is any of your concern, Mr. Malfoy,” he returned silkily.

“Like hell it’s not,” Malfoy hissed between his clenched teeth. A few of the other Slytherins turned to eye Malfoy curiously.

Severus glared at them and the eavesdroppers hastily turned away. “Control yourself, Mr. Malfoy,” Severus warned quietly.

Draco clenched his hands where they rested on his knees and continued to stare out over the pitch. Evidently the young Slytherin was becoming restless, most likely from having to keep himself constantly in the company of at least one of his fellows. The young man’s mood was not likely to improve in the near future. Minerva had announced that the first Hogsmeade trip of the year would take place the following Saturday. Severus was not looking forward to telling Draco that he would not be allowed to go.

A cheer rose up from nearby and Severus glanced again toward the sky. He hadn’t seen what had happened to cause such elation but Harry was clapping Weasley happily on the back. With a pang, Severus realized he was not eager to tell Harry he would not be going to Hogsmeade either; the Potions Master had a feeling that the boy would not take the news well. He had briefly considered taking Lupin up on his offer to tell Harry, though Severus gave no inkling of his hesitation to the werewolf, who had been far too eager to take on the responsibility.

Severus watched the rest of the tryouts in silence. After a few failed attempts to get Malfoy to speak up, the rest of the Slytherins finally gave up and they too gave in to the quiet.

With the end of the tryouts, the new team crowded itself around Harry in excitement and Harry chanced another glance toward Severus. It would appear that he would indeed need lessons in stealth as well as Occlumency. Snape glared at him pointedly until Harry finally looked away, though oddly, Ms. Weasley now glowered at him from her position next to Harry. She kept his gaze until Harry tugged on her arm and the girl turned away as well.

Severus was not surprised at Harry’s choices for his new team. He was certain he would hear muttering about the boy playing favourites in his choice of both Weasleys, but Severus had to admit that his son had chosen fairly. As the newly formed Gryffindor team dispersed, the Slytherins began shifting in their seats, gathering stray belongings and otherwise preparing to leave the pitch.

Severus stood and said tersely, “Mr. Malfoy, a word.”

Draco stood obediently, though his posture radiated resentment. Severus ignored the young Slytherin’s attitude and gathering his robes about himself, the Potions Master strode from the stands, with Draco trailing slowly along behind him.

xxxxx

Whatever Snape and Dumbledore had planned for Malfoy, the Slytherin was back to his old self, Harry decided as he watched Malfoy stirring the bubbling cauldron between them with jerky movements.

“Mufflap Sap,” Malfoy snapped, thrusting out his empty hand and wiggling his fingers impatiently.

Harry pinched his lips together and placed the slim phial into the other’s outstretched hands; Harry was determined not to bring Snape over to them. Though the Professor had all but ignored the two of them last week, Harry had no desire to test their burgeoning relationship over Draco Malfoy.

“Frog’s eyes,” was Malfoy’s next command. Harry handed over the little dish of frog’s eyes.

Malfoy glanced at it. “Can’t you count, Potter? I need five, not four.” Harry clamped his teeth tightly together and added one more eye to the dish.

Malfoy added the Frog’s Eyes and stirred the Occulus Potion fifteen more times, then ordered, “Chop the toad stomachs. Finely.”

Harry picked up the two stomachs gingerly and used his little knife to cut up the disgusting organs with quick little movements. Malfoy watched in open disapproval. Harry had to start repeating over and over in his mind how Snape had come to the Quidditch trials on Saturday. The refrain helped a little.

Harry gave the finely chopped stomachs to the ungrateful Slytherin. After twenty more circles around the pewter cauldron with the glass stirring rod, Malfoy set the rod down and folded his arms across his chest in one angry swipe. Sighing quietly, Harry raised his hand to signal to the Professor that they were finished and after he’d made sure that Snape had noticed him, Harry lowered his hand and waited.

Snape eventually made his way over to the silent pair. Harry noticed the muted glare given to the sullen Slytherin boy. Without a word, Snape tested the Occulus Potion, as he did every other Potion and pronounced, “Excellent work as always, Mr. Malfoy. Ten points.” He ignored Harry, though now Harry preferred it that way. He relaxed as Snape moved on to the next table.

The class was dismissed soon after that. Malfoy left as fast as possible, marching out with Zabini and Parkinson. Harry cleaned up his supplies; Malfoy had not even bothered to open his own bag this session. Harry stuffed his ingredients away and trudged to the back of the classroom, extremely annoyed. Ron was waiting for him.

“Where’s Hermione?” Harry asked.

“She was in a hurry to get to the library before dinner.” Harry perked up at that; Hermione had promised to continue researching the Charm his mum had performed on Snape seventeen years ago.

“Brilliant,” Harry said enthusiastically and then proceeded to recap Potions class in great detail to his friend as they walked to the Quidditch Pitch for their first practice of the new term.

After he’d finished his last treacle tart later that evening, Harry leaned forward on the table, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand. “Well, Hermione?” he asked impatiently as his friend peered at the thick volume in front of her. “Did you find anything?”

“Harry,” Hermione chided in exasperation. “You’ve been asking me for days and I’ve given you the same answer every time—not yet.”

Harry sighed and pressed, “But, it has to be somewhere.”

Hermione glowered at him and went back to her book. Harry groaned in frustration. They were never going to figure this out.

Ginny reached out a small hand to squeeze Harry’s arm gently. “Why don’t you just ask the Professor?” she asked sensibly.

Harry shook his head. “Sure. I’ll ask Snape about Malfoy again and that way I’ll be back in the tower before even you guys make it up there.” He made a face, and Ginny rolled her eyes. Hermione however had abandoned her book in favor of squinting quizzically across the table at Harry. “Did you find something?” he asked her excitedly.

Hermione blinked and her cheeks flushed slowly. She shook her head and began fiddling with her pudding spoon. Harry glanced at Ginny who shrugged, as perplexed as Harry as to what could be bothering the bushy-haired girl.

“What’s wrong, Hermione?” Harry asked finally as his friend continued to stare fixedly at her book.

“It’s nothing, Harry,” Hermione said quickly, not taking her eyes off the page.

“Oh, just tell him, Hermione,” Ron huffed in agitation and Harry swung his eyes around to look at his ginger-haired friend.

“Tell me what?”

Ron ignored the warning look from his girlfriend and said with a shrug, “She’s been pestering me for days about when you’re going to stop calling him that.”

“Ronald!” Hermione slammed her book closed, glaring fiercely at Ron.

Harry looked between the two of them as they glared at one another. “Calling who what?” Harry demanded after the silence had stretched for far too long.

Ron rolled his eyes, “Snape, you dolt.” Ron told him good-naturedly and Harry goggled at his two friends.

“Are you insane, Hermione?” He shook his head in wonderment. “You are,” he confirmed as Hermione just stared at him, her lips pressed together defiantly.

“I am not,” Hermione denied. “You said yourself that Snape got really angry when you addressed him that way.”

“Yeah, because he thinks it’s disrespectful to call him anything but ‘Professor’ or ‘sir’. He practically chewed me up last term for being disrespectful,” Harry told her.

“Harry.” Harry looked up to find Remus standing over them, a frown on his usually smiling face.

“Is it time, already?” Harry asked, not bothering to cast a Tempus Charm.

Remus shook his head, and then grasped his ear between his thumb and forefinger and shook the lobe, looking at the four of them pointedly. Oh. Harry had forgotten he’d erected a Silencing Spell around he and his friends after the other Gryffindors nearby had left the table. Harry quickly grabbed his wand and ended the spell. “Sorry,” he offered sheepishly.

“Harry, I’d like a word with you,” Remus said and Harry immediately tensed at his friend’s tone, although Harry could think of nothing he’d done to warrant any sort of lecture from Remus, of all people.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked hesitantly.

Remus shook his head. “I just need to speak with you for a few moments before we begin your lesson,” he explained, beckoning him with his hand to get moving. Harry gave Ginny a quick peck on the cheek and followed Remus out of the Great Hall; he had a hard time keeping up with his friend’s uncustomary rapid pace as they hurried through the corridors.

“Remus?” Harry questioned but Remus shook his head, signaling to Harry that whatever words they were going to have needed to be said in private. By the time the two of them reached Remus’ classroom office, Harry’s stomach was twisted in knots.

As soon as the door was closed and warded, Harry asked, his voice full of dread, “What’s going on?”

“Severus is waiting for you,” Remus said without preamble.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. “Huh? I thought you wanted to talk to me first.”

Remus sighed. “I said that for the benefit of listening ears.” Harry thought Remus sounded tired but since it wasn’t yet close to the full moon, he could see no reason for him to be out of sorts.

“Snape wants to start early tonight?” Harry asked, the tension in the pit of his stomach tautening again. “Does he have to be somewhere tonight?” he asked, thinking of the horrors of the dream he’d had before they’d begun his Occlumency training.

But Remus shook his head and Harry’s tension eased a bit. “Severus wants to speak with you.” The knotted muscles pulled themselves tighter.

“What about?” Harry asked curiously.

“Harry, just do as you’re told for once,” Remus said impatiently, his voice as sharp as Harry had ever heard it.

Stung, Harry couldn’t even respond. He turned quickly to hide his face, twisted in hurt and he stepped into the Floo. As Harry threw the Powder down, Remus’ mouth opened as though he would say something but the Floo swallowed Harry up, cutting off anything Remus might have said.

And then Harry was stumbling, as he always seemed to do, out of Snape’s fireplace. This time, as he toppled, he smacked up against black robes and a hand was reaching behind Harry’s back to steady him as he regained his footing. Harry looked up; Snape was standing so close that he could smell the cloves, pungent in his nostrils.

“Sorry,” Harry apologized quickly, stepping back a bit. It took longer than was necessary for Snape to release him fully though and when he did, Harry recognized the closed expression on the Professor’s face and Harry almost wanted to step back into the man’s accidental embrace. Then he remembered that Snape wanted to talk and that Remus had snapped at him, and the feeling evaporated.

Remembrance flashed in Snape’s eyes as well and the blank expression shifted to a glower. Harry tensed.

“You cannot erect Privacy Spells in the middle of the Great Hall,” Snape said unexpectedly.

Harry frowned in confusion. “That’s why you wanted to talk to me?” he asked, feeling all of sudden relieved. He shrugged. “There weren’t many students left when I did it. And, it would be hard to notice unless someone was specifically looking for a Privacy Spell,” he finished, convinced by the soundness of his own argument. Snape however, seemed considerably less impressed.

“Which they very well could be,” the Professor told him sharply.

“Looking specifically for Privacy Spells?” Harry scoffed, completely unconcerned.

Snape narrowed his eyes. “Exactly. Not everyone at Hogwarts is a Gryffindor,” he said acidly.

Harry, suddenly alert, pulled himself up a little, ignoring what was most likely an insult. “The Slytherins are spying on me?” he asked in great interest.

“Of course,” Snape inclined his head, and Harry could almost see the Potions Master rolling his eyes.

“For Voldemort?”

Snape stared at him as though he was daft and Harry nodded quickly, realizing how stupid the question had been. Of course the Slytherins were spying for their parents’ Master. He was itching to ask Snape if Malfoy was spying too; it was not easy to restrain himself.

“Do not use such spells in a public place again,” Snape finally told him and on a sigh, Harry agreed. Snape’s eyes narrowed slightly in suspicious appraisal before he nodded. “This evening,” he continued, changing the subject, “we will test your shields. I will attempt to enter your mind; you will defend yourself.”

A chill ran up Harry’s spine. Defend yourself. Harry had to blink several times to clear his mind of last year’s failure. He slowly allowed the mist to solidify until the storm inside his mind was raging and Harry buried all thoughts of last year’s Occlumency lessons, and Sirius far below the shield. When he was satisfied that he was ready, Harry refocused on Snape, who was watching him with interest.

“You are ready?” the Professor inquired.

Harry nodded. Snape regarded him for a moment longer and then he withdrew his wand. Involuntarily, Harry flinched back as he readied himself for Snape’s attack. Snape lowered his wand.

“You are prepared this time. This will not be like last year.” Snape’s tone was almost soothing and Harry swallowed. He nodded and the Professor raised his wand once more. “Legilimens,” Snape said quietly and Harry felt the now familiar intrusion of Snape’s presence in his mind.

This presence though was harsher, more insistent and Harry immediately recoiled from it. With an effort, he strengthened his mental shields, urging his Dementor Storm, as he had begun to think of it, to broaden and build. The storm overshadowed the flames that threatened him, pushing the fiery threat backwards and finally extinguishing it completely.

Harry came aware again of Snape standing in front of him as Harry hunched over slightly, panting from the exertion of forcing the other man out of his thoughts. As he steadied himself, Harry straightened up again. Snape was perfectly collected, not seeming to have been taxed at all by the experience.

Harry smiled faintly at the Professor. “That was better.”

Snape nodded. “It was. It will be harder each time.”

Harry nodded. “Again?” he asked and Snape nodded, looking pleased at Harry’s quick recovery. They dueled for an hour and by the end Harry was struggling ferociously, battling the raging inferno that screamed against his shield. Harry pushed back as hard as he could, but slowly Snape’s flames began to overtake Harry’s storm, until finally with one mighty burst of fire, the cloud split in two just as it had the first time and Harry’s most buried thoughts assaulted him in an great rush of anguish.

Harry’s mum broke free, followed closely by James and Cedric. And finally, the image of Sirius, laughing as he fell back into the veil, pelted upwards and Harry cried out, staggering in sudden weakness.

“Sirius,” he gasped, and Harry latched on to whatever was in front of him, to stop himself falling, gripping fiercely. As the inferno faded slowly out of his mind, Harry recognized the feeling of a well-brushed fabric against his forehead; his fists were twisted up in the same soft material. As it came through the haze of reawakening that it had to be Snape’s robes he was clutching, Harry started to pull away but then lightly, almost as though it wasn’t there at all, a hand was resting against the back of Harry’s head.

The rise and fall of slow, rhythmic breathing calmed the shaking that was rustling quietly through Harry’s body. He sucked in a deep breath and realized he was crying, the tears falling silently onto Snape’s black vest. He felt a moment’s desperate hope that the Potions Master wouldn’t notice. Harry struggled for equilibrium, Occluding his mind and willing himself to bury the emotions that were beginning to submerge him.

Harry was distracted by the soft vibration of the Professor’s chest as he said quietly, “It is not advisable to use Occlusion to avoid painful emotions.”

Unable to stop himself, Harry brought his eyes up, his fingers loosening their death grip on the Professor’s robes. Snape was looking down at Harry, straight into his eyes. “I don’t know what else to do with them, sir,” Harry admitted quietly, wanting to look away but Snape’s gaze wouldn’t allow it.

“You must allow yourself to grieve,” Snape told him simply, his eyes intense. But Harry shook his head, still looking up at Snape.

“I have,” Harry tried to tell him and at this Snape shook his head.

“No, you have not.” The gentle pressure left his head then, and Harry’s heart felt suddenly heavier.

“You only lost Black a few months ago. There has not been enough distance for you to have properly mourned.” Harry wanted to disagree but Snape continued, “When I broke through your shield, the memory of Black was distressing enough that you lost yourself to me for short time. Your conscious mind was completely overshadowed by mine. You have not accepted your loss.”

Harry looked away as the pain coursed through him again. “I can’t,” he said piteously and then bit his lip, his discomfort threatening to overcome him.

Snape didn’t seem to notice. “And you will never accept your godfather’s death if you continue to pretend it did not happen.”

Although Harry was certain the Professor had not meant it to, his voice had regained some of its harshness, but now Harry did not shy away from it. He was beginning to hear the concern under the thick layer of thorns. Harry only nodded in response and Snape studied him briefly, perhaps measuring how much Harry had taken his words to heart.

“I know,” Harry felt compelled to offer, hoping to ease some of the Professor’s unspoken concern. Snape, after a pause, nodded briskly. Harry, feeling suddenly drained, sat in one of Snape’s chairs, draping himself into its recesses in a comfortable slouch. Harry smiled when Snape raised an eyebrow at him.

“Comfortable, I trust?” Snape asked, a hint of amused sarcasm in his voice.

“Yes, thank you,” Harry answered in all seriousness. Snape shook his head slightly and took the chair opposite and Harry decided that Snape looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“There is something else we need to talk about,” Snape began slowly and Harry almost groaned.

“Something else?” Harry asked, stalling as his stomach clenched.

Snape nodded. “You are aware that there is a trip to Hogsmeade this Saturday?”

Harry nodded, already wary about what Snape could be up to. In the next instant, Snape’s face went blank and Harry found himself remembering his posture as he straightened himself in the chair. “I do not think it wise for you to be away from the castle right now,” Snape told him, without any inflection and Harry took a discreet breath as he struggled for control. He was not going to miss Hogsmeade…not for another year.

“Why not, sir?” he asked, hoping his voice was as calm as he had planned. Apparently it was, as Snape didn’t even blink.

“It is not safe,” he told Harry.

Harry frowned. “I’ll be fine.”

Snape shook his head and his face transformed so that the Potions Master looked very grim. “You misunderstand. I am not giving you a choice.”

Harry frowned as he leaned forward. “Aurors are crawling all over the place. I’m sure the Headmaster would have given them orders to go to Hogsmeade when I do.”

“And you believe Aurors to be infallible?” Snape asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. “No, but neither are the castle’s defenses.”

Snape’s lips thinned. “You are much safer within its walls.”

“And, I’d be even safer if I stayed with my relatives,” Harry countered.

Snape leaned forward in his seat now, his eyes growing somehow darker. “You are not going, Harry,” he said calmly. Harry sat back against the soft chair. Snape contemplated him for another moment before straightening again. “If you wish, you may spend the day in my private labs with me.”

Struggling a bit to process what had just happened, Harry stared at Snape, and then a slow spread over his face. “I’d like that sir.”