Right in Front of Me (Book 1) by ShabbyBeachNest

They stayed up into the night, talking. At first the conversation revolved only around his mother, and Snape told Harry that he could ask him any questions he'd wanted to know. True to his word, he'd not shied away from anything that Harry asked, even though it had obviously been extremely difficult for him. Although uncomfortable, Snape was upfront and honest with him – something that Harry was extremely grateful for after being kept in the dark on so many issues for so long.

"How did you meet each other?"

"At the park. She was vaulting herself off the swings and flying higher and more gracefully than any normal muggle child possibly could. I knew she was a witch even before she did."

"You didn't care that she was muggle-born?"

"Your mother was… special. And I am a half-blood," he said simply.

They were silent for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. The fire crackled peacefully in the grate.

"You've always known I was hers," Harry said into the silence, not looking his professor in the eye. "Why did you hate me so much?" He asked the question quietly, trying not to feel nervous about what Snape's answer might be.

"I never hated you, Harry. But… you were your father's son."

"I still am," Harry said, confused.

"Not to me."

What did THAT mean? Harry fell silent again for long minutes.

"Did you love my mother?"

Silence. Harry looked at the man, whose faraway gaze was locked on the flames of the fire. He could only see his professor's face in profile, but there was something in the way his features seemed strained, as if the question physically pained him. It was all the answer Harry needed.

"Do you still love her?" Snape was silent for so long that Harry thought he would refuse to answer. Harry looked away.

"Always," Snape whispered.

It was such a simple word. Two syllables that normally lasted only as long as it took to forget them. But coming from Snape, it meant so much more. Harry swallowed, thinking again of what could have been had Snape not gone down such a dark path. It seemed as if his professor had been tormenting himself over his mother for years, and Harry had to admit that he felt sorry for him.

"Do you think you could ever love someone again?"

Snape's gaze flicked over to meet his own. "I'm starting to." It took Harry a moment to comprehend his meaning and when he did he blushed, looking away. But his professor's words secretly pleased him.

Harry had never had someone's love before, except Ron and Hermione. And Sirius, of course. But this was different… Whereas Sirius had always seen him as a replacement for his dead best friend – someone to go on merry adventures with, and who never took the world around him too seriously – Snape had made it perfectly clear since he'd taken him from the Dursley's just where Harry lay on his priority list. With another blush and a warm feeling starting to fill him up, Harry thought that he was somewhere near the top.

He was no longer alone. It was a terribly foreign, but extremely wonderful feeling.

.:HP::SS:HP::SS:.

Harry had disappeared into the kitchen, insisting on cooking so that Snape could stay off his feet. Snape listened to the banging and clattering of the pots and pans while Harry cooked in the muggle fashion. Things were quiet for a few minutes, simmering and warming in the pots, Snape assumed.

But then Harry suddenly reappeared, carefully carrying a few vials of potion. "I'm not sure if these are the right ones, but…" A crimson blush crept into his cheeks, and Snape took the vials from him, shocked. After dealing with these things on his own for so long, Snape was more than a little taken aback. What an odd feeling to think that someone gives a damn if I'm in pain.

He glanced down at the vials now in his hands, and Harry quickly explained as he pointed them out, "Another dose of Skele-Grow, in case you reinjured your rib today; pain potion, obviously; and blood-replenishing potion, in case you've been bleeding into your liver…"

Snape was surprised. So the boy is finally starting to use the brains he was born with. It took him a moment before he remembered to say, "Thank you."

"I also cleaned up the mess I made in the lab last night. I'm sorry for that."

"Harry," Snape muttered, suddenly uncomfortable when confronted with his behavior earlier in the day. "About this morning… I'm… That was not your fault." Harry looked startled at his admission. "My behavior was unacceptable, and it was in no way caused by anything that you did." A silence stretched between them for long moments, but Snape continued softly, "I didn't tell Dumbledore."

It was clear by the drop in his shoulders and the blush that crept into his cheeks once again that Harry knew what he meant. He nervously fiddled with his hands before looking Snape in the eye.

"Thanks."

Clearing his throat, Harry excused himself to finish cooking, and, Snape suspected, to collect himself after Snape's contrition. They ate dinner in front of the fire, a filling dish made with chicken, mushrooms, and potatoes. It was actually rather good, very warm and filling after such a depleting day.

"Where did you learn to cook?" Snape asked conversationally, trying to distract the boy.

"Uh… It was always kind of my job at the Dursley's."

"To cook dinner?"

"And breakfast. And lunch." Harry said matter of factly. Snape paused, arching a brow when Harry met his gaze. The boy must have picked up on Snape's irritation because he continued in a rush, "But, you know, it wasn't the worst thing they could have done."

"So," Snape started slowly, "you cooked three meals on a daily basis for your relatives – and yet you always came back to school looking like you'd dropped at least a stone in weight, sometimes more." The contempt for Harry's family was like acid dripping from his tone.

"Well…" Harry said, starting to get defensive. "I mean… They let me eat sometimes!"

"Sometimes…" Snape repeated dangerously. The boy sounded as if he was trying to put Snape's mind at ease, but all it ended up doing was further inflaming Snape's anger at his ghastly muggle relatives.

The boy suddenly changed tactics. "Oh, and um, by the way," he said, trying to sound casual as he attempted to redirect the conversation. As if I don't know what you're doing, Harry. Snape understood wanting to steer the conversation away from uncomfortable topics. How many times had he done that with Dumbledore while at Hogwarts? With Lily when she had pried him for information regarding his father's treatment of him?

"I have to get my things from there," Harry continued, bringing Snape back to the present.

"You mean the things your family took from you and locked away?" Snape stated, his anger steadily rising the longer he spoke. "The things you should be carrying on your person at all times during a time of war, like your wand? The things that could possibly save your life? Would those be the things you are referring to?"

Harry blushed. "Yeah...That'd be them."

Those filthy muggles are due a call from me, Snape considered with severity. I do believe I shall pay them a visit soon... "Do not concern yourself, Harry," he said in a dangerously low, silky tone. "I will procure your belongings."

Harry's gaze shot to his in alarm, looking like he wanted to argue. But before he could say anything Snape stated, "You need clothes."

Successfully redirecting the boy's attention, he continued, "The garments I've seen you wear outside of school in the past are only fit for the waste bin. Judging by their enormous size and their threadbare state, I'd hazard a guess that they were hand offs of your whale of a cousin." Harry nodded in embarrassment. "Well, as much as I enjoy your company and don't mind loaning you bits and pieces of my wardrobe, I do believe your friends would notice if you started dressing like the bat of Gryffindor tower."

"Yeah, they'd definitely notice," Harry said with a grin. "And..." He paused, trying to sound cheeky. "You like my company, sir?"

Snape could tell there was much more hidden behind the question, so he answered sincerely, "I do." Harry was unable to hide his pleasure at his answer. "But don't push your luck, Potter."

Snape banished the dishes back to the kitchen with a flick of his wand, turning to Harry and saying, "I've been meaning to ask you: how did you end up this afternoon with…" Her name still felt odd on his tongue. "Lily and her daughter? When I finally found you, you looked to be sitting down with them for a picnic lunch…" He let the question linger, honest curiosity getting the best of him.

Harry thought for a moment. "It was really odd, actually. Jillian shot out in front of me while I was walking down the sidewalk and ran out into traffic. I thought she was going to get hit by a car… But then we were both suddenly on the other side of the street. I was holding onto her and she was just fine."

Snape froze. "You performed unintentional magic?"

"I guess," Harry shrugged. "That hasn't happened to me in a long time."

"Harry… teenagers are not supposed to be able to perform unintentional magic."

"I didn't do it on purpose!" Harry said, his voice suddenly sounding anxious. "It was an accident – it just happened. Do you think I'm going to get in trouble with the Ministry? I already have a strike on my record because of Dobby!"

Snape just started at him for a long moment. The boy stared back, eyes wide and nervous, expecting an answer. After all those failed lessons… Could it possibly be…?

Snape tried to rise to his feet from where his body had sunken into the old sofa, but the movement was still a bit painful. Harry was suddenly there at his elbow. "Lily said you had to take it easy," he admonished, helping to lift him. Snape smiled at the accusation on his behalf as the boy enforced Lily's ridiculous rules.

But Snape gave it no more thought as he suddenly said, "Get your mother's box." He strode over to the fire, Harry following curiously.

Holding out his hand, Harry passed him the wooden box with an inquisitive look. "Stand over there," Snape instructed as he motioned to the far corner of the room. Harry moved, albeit slowly, confusion clear on his face now.

Snape's looked down at the box in his hands. His fingers lovingly caressed the lid for a long moment. Without warning he moved to toss the box into the flames.

"NO!" Harry shouted in horror, lunging to stop him but not quickly enough since he was so far from Snape.

However, as Harry straightened, the boy had an utterly perplexed, shocked look on his face. Looking down at his hands, it was easy to see why: he now clutched his mother's box. He leaned around and looked into the fire, his eyes darting back and forth between it and the wooden container.

"Wait…? How did…? What the hell just happened?"

"Language, Potter," Snape admonished. But then he continued, "There was nothing unintentional about the magic you just preformed. You didn't want your mother's possessions to be burned in the flames, just like you didn't want Jillian to get hit by a car. You intentionally projected your protective instincts, thereby shielding the objects of those reactions."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"It means, Mr. Potter,that as much as you fought against me last year during all your lessons, you are more than likely a very strong Occlumens."

Bewildered, Harry stared at him for a long moment. "What?"

"Harry, what do you think Occlumency is, if not a protection of your mind against Legilimency?" The boy looked completely baffled.

Snape sighed in exasperation. "Close your eyes." He waited for Harry to do so. "Reflect on what you experienced just now, and earlier at the park. Slow it down, moment by moment. Really consider Jillian and your mother's box, the terror you felt at the thought of their impending ruin." Harry's brows furrowed, his eyes still closed. It took a moment before he slowly nodded. "Now replace them with your mind in those scenarios. That same feeling of wanting to protect – at all costs – is what you are trying to achieve. Focus it upon yourself, instead of projecting it outside your body."

Harry's eyes opened, looking shaken. "I... I think I understand," he murmured in astonishment.

"Good," Snape muttered, then without pause, "Legilimens."

Surprisingly, he felt a block at the entrance of Harry's thoughts. At first it was nothing but a thick, cloying mist which only managed to slow Snape's advance. But it quickly became something more substantial, solidifying into a wall that no matter how forcefully Snape mentally shoved against, he could not penetrate.

He smiled to himself as his mind retreated. He was genuinely proud of the boy. "What were you thinking?" he asked as he felt his conscious settle back into place.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Harry responded seriously. After a moment his mouth spread into a lighthearted smile, a breathy laugh escaping his lips.

Snape couldn't help the twitch of his own lips at the boy's teasing tone. "No actually, I don't think I would."

. . . . .

When Harry finally stumbled off to bed a few hours later, he looked drained and exhausted, but happy. They'd put in some hard work practicing Occlumency; sometimes Snape had been able to slip through, but most of the time Harry's mental barriers were solid.

At the beginning of their lesson Harry had tormented him with visions of the boggart Snape dressed in Neville's grandmother's clothing, finding the scowl on Snape's face when he broke through rather hilarious. But as the night wore on and Harry became more mentally exhausted, Snape broke through more and more, and near the end Harry's thoughts had been overwhelmed with thoughts of his mother. Snape noted with interest that although all of these memories were of the wizard pictures containing both his parents, his mother was vivid, beautiful, and detailed, while the elder Potter had been blurry and out of focus.

After seeing the photo of himself with Lily in the boy's mind, both he and his mother in perfect detail, he'd called it a night.

"That's enough," Snape said softly. "You've done well, Harry. Now go get some rest." Harry had nodded, not even bothering to argue.

"I learned a lot tonight. Thank you, sir."

"I think it's time you called me Severus," Snape replied calmly. After all they'd been through together over the past few days, it seemed appropriate.

Harry seemed surprised, but he'd repeated quietly, "Ok. Severus…"

Snape watched him stumble up the stairs, calling out a soft goodnight before he turned back into the sitting room. He thought about getting a vial of Dreamless Sleep, but then reconsidered. With the emotional roller coaster of a day they'd had, Snape doubted that Harry would be suffering from any nightmares – he'd probably fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow and stay dead to the world until morning.

Besides, he still had to figure out what had caused such a volatile reaction the first time the boy had taken it.

Snape stood in the doorway to the sitting room, his arms crossed over his chest, and his thoughts turned predictably toward the boy's despicable relatives. He relished the idea of paying them a visit, and considering that Harry's belongings were still in their home, it had better be soon. But after the circumstances that he'd found Harry in the last time Snape had visited that infernal place, there was no way that he was bringing the boy anywhere near them.

Walking quickly to the fireplace, he snatched up a small handful of floo powder and threw it down, announcing clearly, "Remus Lupin's quarters!" Carefully crouching before the fire (which he noticed with relief that he was able to do with only a few stabs of pain), he stuck his head in the green flames and waited for the spinning to stop.

When it did, he saw Lupin in an even shabbier armchair than the one in Snape's sitting room, his legs crossed and a book in his lap. The moment he saw Snape, Lupin placed the book upside down on the side table and rose.

"Severus!" the man said in surprise. "It's late – is everything alright? Has the Order-?"

"Calm down, wolf," Snape growled. "Everything is fine."

"Oh. Well… What can I do for you? Would you like to come through?"

Not wanting to leave Harry alone, Snape responded, "Why don't you come here?" And with that he pulled back, waiting again for the spinning to stop. He was trying without much success to get to his feet when the floo flared and Lupin stepped through.

"Severus!" The man said in surprise, seeing him falter in pain. "Here, let me help you-" Snape was irritated with Lupin's supportive gesture and shook the other man's hands off the moment he was back on his feet, dusting himself off instead of meeting Lupin's worried gaze.

"Are you alright?" Lupin asked quietly.

"Fine," Snapped Snape, but then took a breath to calm himself. "I need a favor, Lupin." The words were like ash in his mouth; he hated asking anyone for anything, especially someone with whom he had so much history.

The other man paused for a second, most likely in shock that Snape would ask him, of all people. "Of course, Severus. What can I do?"

Where to start…? "Harry needs clothes-"

Lupin's eyebrows rose. "Harry… As in Harry Potter?"

"Yes, wolf, Harry Potter. He's currently upstairs sleeping, but—"

"Harry is here?"

Snape sighed in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. This wasn't going well. "Due to… unforeseen circumstances, Harry will be staying with me for the remainder of the summer," he explained, his patience running thin.

Lupin looked as if Snape had just told him that he wanted to bring the giant squid home as a house pet. "Do you think that is for the best? It's not exactly a secret how much you despise Harry…"

A twinge of guilt flickered within Snape, but he pushed it aside. "We don't exactly have a choice. Are you going to help me or not?" he snapped, wanting to get to the point and get this conversation over with.

"Oh, well… Yes. Of course. What do you need from me?"

"I need you to take Potter shopping for clothes in London tomorrow. Take him wherever he wants to go." Lupin was still looking at him as if he'd suddenly broken out singing muggle show tunes. The man's perplexed look irritated him to no end. "Go sightseeing, if you must. But just keep him away. I have a situation that needs… attention… that Harry cannot be a part of."

After a long moment Lupin finally answered, "Of course, Severus. I'll be happy to help."

The ash was back on Snape's tongue. "Thank you." Walking back to the fireplace, Snape reached for a bag of golden Galleons that he kept discreetly behind a stack of books. He dropped it heavily into Lupin's hands and said, "I assume you can handle converting this into muggle money, if need be?"

"Yes," Lupin replied, looking utterly flummoxed by the entire situation.

"Tomorrow at nine o'clock, then," Snape said dismissively, letting the other man know that he was done with the conversation.

Lupin looked as if he wanted to say something, but gently shook his head as he thought better of it. "See you in the morning, Severus." He stepped into the floo and was gone.

Good, that was taken care of. His morning was clear to drop in on Harry's filthy muggle family. He was greatly looking forward to it.

Snape carefully stretched his aching body. He supposed he'd better get some rest as well, if he didn't want to be stumbling around like a pathetic idiot around the muggles. He made his way up the stairs, glad to see that the potions were taking effect and that the movements were not nearly as painful as they had been.

But as he passed the door to his old bedroom, he stopped cold.

A distressed whimpering, so soft that he almost hadn't heard it, was coming from inside the dark room. Snape's breath hitched in his throat as he pushed the door open.

"Harry?" he called softly. When the boy didn't answer, he pulled out his wand and murmured a low, "Lumos."

The boy was curled onto his side, his eyes closed in sleep as he clutched a pillow to his chest. Tears were streaming beneath his closed lids, and as Snape stood there watching he emitted another soft cry. Snape immediately went to his side, tossing his wand on the desk next to the table and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Harry…" he murmured, gently grasping the boy's shoulder. But Harry instantly flinched away from his touch.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon," he choked quietly. "Please, don't! Don't put me in there… I'll be quiet! I'm sorry!"

"Harry." Snape insisted, lifting the boy's shoulders until he could fold him into his embrace. "Harry, it's me. It's ok. You're dreaming. It's ok," he repeated, stroking the back of Harry's head.

The boy continued sniffling, and he could feel the tears soaking through the shoulder of his shirt. Harry shuddered, and Snape's arms tightened around him. He didn't realize Harry was awake until the boy's arms wrapped about his waist, clinging desperately as he continued to cry. Snape rested his cheek on the back of Harry's head, rocking him gently.

"I saw you with her," Harry said softly into his shoulder, his voice hoarse and thick through the tears. "I saw you with my mum, screaming as you held her body."

Snape stiffened. Oh God…

"I'm sorry," Snape choked, tears of his own coming of their own accord. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, Harry."

The two continued to cling to each other… desperate, helpless, and agonizing in their grief as they wept for a lost love, a lost mother. But there was a fragile comfort in each other's presence, and the fact that they were no longer alone.