Defense classes over the next week were not as bad as Harry would have anticipated. In fact, they seemed no different from before. He had expected rumors of his meltdown to spread like wildfire through the Slytherin common room, had braced himself for the snide references Snape would surely make – but none of that had happened.

Indeed, Snape’s demeanor towards Harry had not perceptibly changed. His trademark just-for-Harry sneer did not waver, though it seemed laced with something that Harry could not readily identify. Hermione insisted that he was just being paranoid, while Ron thought that Snape was inwardly amused at Harry’s expense. This did nothing to lessen Harry’s apprehension as he headed down to Snape’s office at five to eight.

“Come in, Potter.” Snape stood and came around the desk, wand out. “Try to clear your mind of all emotion… I do hope you have been practicing.” Harry nodded curtly, refusing to be baited, and drew his own wand. “Very well. We shall see. Legilimens!”

Harry resisted, but not for long. He was in Flourish and Blotts with Ron and Hermione, buying schoolbooks… Professor Lupin released the Dementor-boggart as he was incanting his first Patronus … the wisp of silver dispersed… Stand aside, foolish girl, stand aside… No, not Harry! I’ll do anything, anything! And then she screamed.

No! He hated that Snape was hearing his mother’s last words. It was even more private than Sirius. He desperately redirected his memories. There was a glimpse of Dudley and his gang before he stopped in pitch-black silence. Snape probed it a bit before withdrawing.

Harry was on his knees again. He stood quickly, trying to bring his breathing back under control. Snape studied him a moment, eyes hooded, looking pensive rather than malicious, if it were possible. It was a long time before either of them spoke.

“Interesting… not a conventional or particularly effective barrier…” Snape glanced at him again, the sneer returning. “Not really a barrier at all. But if it is the best you can come up with, do it again. Legilimens!”

Rather than blocking Snape, as he had been attempting to do for the past half-hour, Harry focused on that particular image, bringing it sharply to the front of his mind. Snape lingered a while, neither attacking or withdrawing. There was a creak, and Harry instinctively tilted his head towards the office door, breaking the connection.

Snape was again regarding him with a thoughtful demeanor. “You had dinner as usual, Potter?” he demanded.

Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion. “Yes, sir.”

“You are not ill or injured?”

“No, sir.”

“Or…” the sneer returned, “otherwise in pain?”

Harry glanced up sharply. Since when did Snape care about his wellbeing? “Er… no, sir.”

Snape was silent for a moment. His gaze slid from Harry to the door on his left. Snape considered it with narrowed eyes, then flicked his wand at it. Harry assumed he was casting some unspoken spell. He waited.

Finally, Snape turned to him and said softly, “I can only conclude that it was a memory, and not a barrier?” Harry froze, but nodded reluctantly.

“Where were you?”

Harry looked away. I might as well; he would Legilimize it from me in an instant. “A cupboard.”

Snape smirked. “A cupboard, indeed. What were you doing in there?”

“Er… sitting… and thinking.”

“And I suppose a chair would not have been sufficient? You saw the need to sneak about in some broom cupboard after dark? Rules are made for a reason, Potter, though –”

“It wasn’t at school! I didn’t have a choice!” Harry protested hotly, and immediately regretted it.

“Surely you are not implying that you were made to sit in a cupboard… were you?”

Harry flushed despite himself, but did not respond. He had not told anyone about his cupboard, and certainly did not intend to start with Snape. He resolutely did not meet the professor’s eyes.

“You are clearly as rule-abiding at home as you are at school. What did you do to antagonize your relatives?” He smirked. “I can only imagine what it might be like, living with you.”

Harry winced. “They’re muggles,” he responded, his voice barely above a whisper. “They don’t know I’m… well, Harry Potter, you know.”

“You’ve never told them?”

“They wouldn’t understand.” He had no idea where Snape was going with this. “I don’t think they’d care, really,” he couldn’t help adding.

“Commendable, these relatives of yours. Fame isn’t everything; even these muggles know that.”

Had it been anyone else speaking, Harry would have laughed. It was not often that he heard the Dursleys described as “commendable.” Then again, he thought bitterly, they and Snape would probably get along wonderfully well.

“You find me amusing, Potter?”

“No, sir.”

“I suppose you think yourself invincible in the adulation of the masses? Is the notion of setting aside your fame so unimaginable?”

Harry hesitated. All he wanted was to be out of that dungeon; what did these questions have anything to do with Occlumency? Feeling drained, he resigned himself to playing along. “It’s just… ‘commendable’ isn’t the word most people would use to describe the Dursleys.”

“Because they do not kiss your boots as the rest of the world does, is it? You are too arrogant for your own good. Like father, like son.”

Harry glared at him, and almost – almost – defended his father. But the scene from Snape’s Pensieve flashed through his mind, and he bit back his retort. Instead, he ground out, “I’m not my father.”

Snape met his eyes, and Harry knew that the professor had seen his thought. He was too roiled and incensed to care. Something in Snape’s expression seemed to change, though.

Harry felt his anger leave him abruptly. “I never told anyone,” he whispered, “not even Ron and Hermione.”

Snape did not bother to hide the first reply to cross his mind (something along the lines of “Ashamed of your father, are you?”), cruel as it may have been, but he did not voice it, either. Instead, he responded, “Neither did I.”

Harry just blinked in confusion, before realizing that Snape was no longer talking about the Pensieve. Snape prompted him with a thought flickering across his eyes. Sirius Black.

Harry swallowed. He could feel his eyes grow warmer, so he turned away. “Thank you, sir,” he managed to say, completely sincerely. He noticed for the first time that the Slytherins had not increased in nastiness the entire week.

Snape cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I believe our hour is over, Potter,” he said. Harry glanced at the clock, and saw that in fact, it was not. Snape never let students out early, but who was he to complain? He slipped out the door with a hasty “Good night, sir,” and walked away confused.

The school year being well under way, they piled their usual corner table in the Gryffindor common room higher and higher with reference materials. Ron dumped another stack of Hermione’s Arithmancy texts on the nearest chair. “Thanks, Ron,” she said, sinking into an armchair. She pulled out her research paper, its margins replete with her tidy script. “Oh, I had meant to ask,” she said, lowering her voice, “How are your Occlumency lessons coming along?”

“They’re all right.” Harry made a noncommittal noise as he, too, began his homework.

“Harry, really. Something’s bothering you, and Occlumency seems to be the most logical cause. Have you learned to close off your mind yet?”

“Err… sort of. It’s… a lot harder than I thought.” He sighed. “This time, I’m really trying, you know? I know what’s at stake, I know I just have to be able to Occlude, or else more people will die…” Hermione put a hand on his arm, turning soft, sympathetic eyes on him. He shook his head. “It’s all right, Hermione. It’s just… I know he’s trying, too. I mean, sure, he’s a spiteful git, like he usually is, but I think he’s actually frustrated that I’m not getting anywhere.”

“Then whatever he’s doing clearly isn’t working. I’ll find you some books, Harry. We’ll figure this out,” she promised.

Ron clapped Harry on the back. “It’ll be all right, mate. If anyone can find an answer, it’s Hermione.” She blushed a bit at that, but did not dissuade him of the notion.

True to her word, Hermione sat them down at their table that Saturday, with what looked like a bundle of Arithmancy texts. “I charmed the covers,” she said softly, depositing the small stack in front of Harry. “Some of these came out of the Restricted Section.”

“I thought the pass Vector wrote you was – oh. Charmed covers. Right.” Ron flushed, but if Hermione noticed, she pretended not to.

“Exactly. It’s supposedly for my NEWT research. Thank Merlin Madam Pince trusts me as much as she does. I’m hesitant to do that much spellwork on Restricted books. Never know what might happen.”

“So… have you found anything?” Harry cracked open a thin hardcover. The title page, instead of reading Arithmancy for Astrologers like the cover, had Defending the Mind inscribed in illuminated letters.

“Well… yes, I have.” She seemed strangely reluctant to continue.

“And?” Harry pressed her.

“I… I’m sorry, Harry, but I frankly fail to see why Dumbledore decided to have Snape, of all people, teach you.”

“Hear, hear,” Ron began to say, but Harry cut across him.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just… the way Occlumency is usually taught isn’t the way Snape is trying to teach you now. I don’t think he can teach you the normal way. I’d say, it’s no wonder you’re not improving.”

“Hermione… what do you mean?”

She pulled back her stray curls and leaned forward in her chair. “The normal way… you’re not going to like this, but the normal way involves some sort of trust.”

“Trust?” Ron spluttered, “Dumbledore wants us to trust Snape? He’s gone mental, he has!”

Hermione laid a hand on Ron’s shoulder to forestall further outbursts. “People are staring, Ronald.” He subsided almost immediately, and she glanced at Harry to gauge his reaction.

Harry appeared to be doing some very quick thinking. “I trust Dumbledore,” he said. “He said that Voldemort should be staying out of my head, ever since the Ministry. I don’t know why he can’t teach me.”

“It pays to be cautious, I suppose. If we were completely certain that he would stay out of your head, then there would be no need for you to learn Occlumency in the first place.”

“But it’s not like Voldemort’s constantly watching anymore!”

“What I don’t get is why Dumbledore can’t just block Harry from his own head,” Ron interjected. “After all, he’s Dumbledore! He’s probably the best Occlumens in the world!”

“It doesn’t work like that, Ron…”

“Well, what else do the books say about learning Occlumency?” asked Harry.

Hermione hesitated. “You’re really not going to like this…”

“I handled the trust bit all right, didn’t I?”

“It gets… worse. The way it’s supposed to work… you have to willingly let your teacher help you with your barriers… in your mind.”

“No! No way! There’s no way Dumbledore can expect Harry to let Snape nose around in his mind! That’s… that’s just sick!” Ron’s face was a picture of outrage. “I bet the slimy git just loved prying into all of Harry’s secrets like that, didn’t he?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron. I doubt Snape is all that interested in Harry, given all the other things he has to think about.”

“No, he’s just out for his blood, Hermione,” Ron retorted. “He hates Harry more than anyone else. You think he wouldn’t jump at the chance to make Harry absolutely miserable?”

Harry looked faintly nauseated himself. “Are you sure there isn’t another way?”

“It’s the way most Occlumens learn it. The books do talk about some people who just… have a sort of natural affinity for Occlumency, but it doesn’t look like you’re one of them.”

“No kidding. So… what do I do now? I’m not about to let him waltz through my mind, you know.”

Hermione sighed. “I do know. I don’t expect you to. I don’t understand why Dumbledore would expect you to, either. He couldn’t possibly have mistaken you for a natural Occlumens.”

“Maybe… maybe he just couldn’t do it himself,” Harry said, sounding weary. “Maybe you’re just over-thinking.”

“That’s probably it, then. Snape’s the only other Occlumens at Hogwarts, right?”

“Or maybe…” Harry continued, recalling that one moment of uneasy truce, “Dumbledore wants me to trust Snape.”

“He’s been doing that for five years! He’s tried this already, and it didn’t work! Why’s he trying the same stupid trick again?” Ron demanded.

“Because…” A Sirius-sized lump arose in Harry’s throat. “Because this time, we know what’s at stake.”