Harry gritted his teeth. The back of his left hand was throbbing with pain. "Professor, I need to go to see Professor Snape."

Umbridge smiled maliciously. "Oh, really? Well, too bad – "

"Dismissed, Mr. Potter." Interrupted Professor McGonagall and before Umbridge could add another word he was already bolting through the corridors. Three minutes to get to Professor Snape's office.

"Potter!" He heard a shout and stopped instinctively, turning around. He saw a Slytherin girl. She was learning in his year, yet they've never spoken to each other. Tracey Davis?

"What?" Harry asked, his curiosity winning over him. Davis came closer, her hand inside her pocket, and Harry became alert. What if it's a trap?

However, she did not retrieve her wand. "Have you visited Professor Umbridge already?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I've just finished." Harry answered, rubbing the back of his left palm distractedly. Detention with Umbridge and an interrogation, in which McGonagall had joined them. Because, of course, they wouldn't trust Umbridge alone with the students in an interrogation, but an ordinary detention is totally safe…

Palm, Mr. Potter. Had the lesson finally sunk? Well, not quite, but come back tomorrow to continue the good work. Unfortunately, Minerva is coming very soon and we wouldn't want her to interrupt us, would we?

Yes, he had casted Langlock over her. No, he doesn't want a cuppa, thank you. Yes, it was the first time he had heard about this jinx. No, he didn't know who is the Half Blood Prince. Yes, he still doesn't know who is the Half Blood Prince. Fred and George Weasley? Why, they were purebloods, surely all of the people in attendance know that (he could've sworn that McGonagall smiled for a millisecond).

Summing it up, four joyful hours with the hag. And now two minutes until his Occlumency lesson with Snape. Harry couldn't stay longer. "Don't drink anything that she offers." He uttered and began running again, leaving the Slytherin girl behind.

Tracey Davis had looked at Potter's back and with a decision in her heart she retrieved the antidote for Veritaserum, dripping five drops of it on her tongue. If Professor Snape and Potter agree on something, they couldn't be wrong.

Not that Professor Snape was ever wrong, was he?

"Sorry I'm late, sir." Harry panted as he burst through the door for Snape's office, who didn't seem very impressed with his apology.

"Sit down and keep quiet, Potter." He snapped and Harry discovered that a new item had jazzed up the room – a dark green ottoman, similar to the one that Umbridge rested on during their class today.

He really had preferred tipsy Snape. "Professor McGonagall – "

"Keep quiet, you arrogant br – " The Professor stared at him with blank expression. "Professor McGonagall what?"

"She gave me a note for you, Professor." Harry handed him the small slip of parchment and sat on the ottoman. Snape read the note and there was his indecipherable mien again, just like the day before. "Perhaps there's hope for your self-preservation skill, Potter." What had McGonagall written on this note? What was he referring?

Leave it, Harry commanded himself. If we practice Occlumency today, the last thing that you'd like Snape to know is that you numerate his expressi-

He clasped his palm over his mouth like it could help him avoid from keeping on thinking.

"Go on, Potter. I'm enthusiastic to hear your new pearl of wisdom." Snape remarked, his eyes shining gleefully. Harry kept quiet. "None? Disheartening. Empty your mind, Potter."

Harry frowned. "What does it mean, sir? Just to think about nothing?"

The Professor sighed. "Once again, you oversimplify the most complex art in the magical world. There's no such thing as 'thinking about nothing', as you've putted so eloquently; If you think of nothing, you are, as a matter of fact, thinking of something. Do you know what exists in the Outer Space, Potter?"

Harry nodded. They haven't spoken of it in Astronomy, but he had read about it in the books that Dudley had received at Smeltings. The fat boy had thrown them over Harry as he mocked his lack of basic Muggle knowledge; Harry had spent every free minute reading Muggle books on this summer to prove him wrong.

"Explain to me what you know about the compound of matters in the space."

"Well, pretty much nothing. It's all vacuum out there." Harry scratched his elbow, trying to think of more facts. "Actually, it depends on the definition you're using. There are a few different approaches. Which height do you consider as the upper edge of the atmosphere?"

Snape gazed at him as if Harry was some kind of a slimy slug that he'd stepped on. No, Harry didn't like this look; the narrowed eyes reminded him of how Hermione works over a challenging logical question that was presented to her. It seemed like Snape was about to dissect his insides, reveal his deepest secrets.

"…One hundred kilometers." Snape finally answered and Harry continued. "Well, then, it doesn't have any matter. Nothing. At all." Then he realized what Snape wanted him to understand. "Oh."

"Oh indeed, Mr. Potter." The Professor caught his eyes and it was the first time that Harry noticed that the obsidian eyes were actually a very dark shade of brown. "Legilimens!"

And they dove straight into Harry's mind.

The boy's attempts were miserable, and even that was only if Severus was trying to facilitate on him.

Which he wasn't.

"Are you even trying, Potter?! This attempt doesn't even deserve to be called pathetic!" He hissed with a motion of his hand after a particularly wretched display of Potter's head being thrusted into a lavatory seat for three minutes.

The boy panted and flinched, falling on his knees. "I'm trying!" he shouted back, looking up at Severus. "It's not like you've ever explained me how to!"

A few more minutes of watching Potter's memories had passed – doing chores (Severus was stunned), playing Exploding Snap with his friends, practicing Quidditch (he made a reminder for himself to share those drills with his team) and being chased by a German shepherd, Severus sighed; clearly, it wasn't working. "Alright then." He had gritted his teeth.

Potter raised his eyebrows, sitting on the floor, as if deciding that raising himself to the ottoman wasn't worth it. It was obvious that he was losing his vigor, similarly to his teacher. "Alright what?" he asked with what seemed like the last energies he could recruit.

 "Close your eyes, Potter, and calm down." The boy eyed him skeptically. "Close your eyes and calm down, I said!" Severus repeated, irritated and aware to the irony in the present situation. Potter had finally obeyed and unreluctantly rested his eyelids.

"Now, concentrate on your amygdala. What is it, Potter?"

"It's responsible for the emotional responses, sir." He answered and Severus suppressed his daze. "Perhaps it's time, after five morbid years, for Miss Granger to start rubbing off on you. Although, if one believes Witch Weekly, it had happened already…" He anticipated for the boy's squirm or comment, but he just kept sitting rigidly.

Something is wrong. Minerva saw it in Potter's detention and now Severus could notice it too. A plan formed in Severus' brain.

"Now, imagine yourself gathering all of your emotions and thoughts, compressing them into a tiny cube, a miniature dice. Roll it. It had rolled to far, you casted it too strong. Never mind. You're all alone now, just floating in the darkness. It has no end nor beginning. All of your ancestors emerged from it. Your descendants are nearby, waiting to be liberated from it.

"Silence surrounds you. Nobody is able to bother you. It is your kingdom. You guard it and it guards you." Severus paced taciturnly around the boy, his baritone voice slowly morphing adagio speech, almost dropping to a murmur. It had worked; Potter soothed down, receding from his stiff posture into phlegmatic crossed-legs sitting.

If Potter would've fluttered his eyelids, he would've discovered that Severus was merely inches away from him, crouching down in a 'very not Snapish' stance.

The boy had bags under his eyes, most likely because of nights of loitering around the castle. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but Severus knew that they couldn't keep doing it. Learning Occlumency requires great mental powers, while none could be found in a jaded mind.

Perhaps, one more chance…

"Open your eyes. Legilimens." He spoke softly, sighing inwardly as the pictures ruffled in front of his eyes. It was the worst attempt for Potter so far, revealing him less maunders and more private thoughts. Mainly about Cho Chang…

The boy glanced at him wearily. "Well, what are you going to do?" He dared cheekily. "Tell the Prophet whom does the mental Savior likes?"

Severus gazed at him. " I might do, Potter." He continued. "You are wasting my precious time. There is no point for practicing when your mind is exhausted; come back after a few nights of good sleep. Stop wandering around the castle and it will do marvels to your abilities. Dismissed."

Potter had left the office, slamming the door behind him, and Severus crushed into his chair. It was even worse than he could imagine – the boy simply had no talent in the mental arts.

"Albus Dumbledore's office." He growled into the fire after a few minutes of lingering and staring at the hearth.

"Severus, my boy. What can I do for you?" Albus beamed at him. "Lemon Drop?"

The Potions Master took a handful of the hard candies and threw it into the hearth. Albus' smile grew even wider and Severus didn't wish to know why.

"The boy is dreadful, Albus. I cannot teach him; he wanders at night, yet excepts to be a prodigy in Occlumency. He has absolutely no understanding of the term 'self-control' – one minute he is snapping at every other word and yet a moment before Minerva describes him as subdued. And the worst part – after explaining everything in detail and providing the essential grounds for meditating, he somehow had managed to become even worst! I demand to be obliviated over this tremendous exhibition of childish memories and teenage hormones!"

The blue eyes twinkled with amusement, the grin never leaving the old man's lips. "Why, Severus, a meditation demands of you to give up on your sarcastic insults. Such a sacrifice. I don't think that I will succeed in finding a better mentor to Harry."

It was obvious that Albus would ignore his complains. The Slytherin wasn't sure what was he even expecting.

"It's official, you have gone mental, Albus." Severus uttered, pinching his nose bridge with closed eyes. "You can have my reserved place, right next to Lockhart."

Albus had the audacity to laugh heartily and Severus turned towards the green fire again. "Sleep well, my dear child."

"Good night, Headmaster." He muttered backwards, stepped through the fire and fell down to the floor due to slipping on something small and harsh. Severus rubbed his coccyx and glanced down to the floor, which was full of the lemon drops that he had thrown into the fire.

"ALBUS!" He cried out at the hearth and closed the floo connection, hearing the impossible laugh even long after the fire lost all of the green tone it had.