The public pool in Cokeworth, while not the cleanest of places, had been a safe one. The manager, who was also daily present as lifeguard so she didn't need to hire one, was a woman of middling age whose feminine name of Shirley fit as little on a broad-faced, sharp woman as Severus' grand one had on a skinny, bruised child. Despite her often downright scary persona, the young Snape boy was often found within the pool's stained, lead-paint walls that dripped constantly with perspiration from the room's humidity.

Shirley Bordine had begun standing in for her husband more and more frequently as his early Parkinson's progressed. When he died at the age of 48, she had gone to work the next day as though her limited claim on the job was assured. Which, in truth, it was. In the months preceding his death, the position had become hers in all but contract as she was there almost every day. She had truly loved her husband, but hers was a disposition that found comfort in routine and familiarity. Therefore, she could be relied on to be present at the pool even within three hours of Frank Bordine's funeral.

No one contested her right to continue as manager, so by the time Severus was a boy, she was as much a part of the scenery at the pool as the life preserver leaning listlessly against the wall.

The pool itself was unexceptional. Grimy, with a filtering system that to this day was probably the same one Severus remembered as a child (and it had been old then), even the less-than-posh people of Cokeworth tended to find little value in it. The walls were of an indeterminate greyish color, and the underwater lights in the sunk-in pool were crusty from years of salt buildup. It was in the classic bathtub-style lap pool, where the gutter and water level are more than a foot below the edge of the pool.

Severus had been chased into the pool by some bigger boys in the neighborhood when he was seven. The manager had stood from her little stool with such a terrifying look that the four boys took one look at her and scampered.

Severus had moved to run too, but she had grabbed the back of his shirt with one heavy paw and pulled him back. He had flinched violently and thrown his hands up in front of his face, and she had immediately frozen.

“What were they chasin’ you in here for, boy?” she had asked.

Severus had only a shrug to give in response.

“Well,” she said, taking a couple of steps back until he felt more comfortable, “they aren’t welcome.” Severus only nodded and began to walk out, and she called after him, “but you are!”

He had only nodded a response and fled, not returning until a couple of months later, when his father came home in the middle of the day, drunk, and his mother had told him to get out of the house before he was seen. That was before he’d had Lily; and not wanting to run afoul of the gang again, he had found himself entering the pool room once more.

Ever since then, he had found refuge in the pool whenever he needed to be away from… well, anyone, really. Nobody thought to look for him there, and if they did, he could sink out of sight from anyone who glanced into the room from the door.

As a consequence, he taught himself how to swim under the careful eye of Shirley, and although she once had to jump in when he overdid it and began to pass out, he was soon a competent swimmer.

He had continued visiting the pool during his summers after he turned eleven, eager to get away from the house and Lily not always being available. As an adult, he still visited the pool on a regular basis during summer break to maintain his fitness when there were no long school halls to stalk.

During the war, the public pool had been a good place for him to retreat to if he wanted to escape either of his masters. Even after the first war ended, he continued to maintain the habit, knowing that he couldn’t afford to grow stationary in case the Dark Lord should return.

Throughout this all, Shirley Bordine remained both manager and lifeguard. She had been there to fish him out when his Dark Mark blazed with pain during a flip turn and he took in a lungful of water. She had assumed it was a cramp, and sent him home for the day even before he could make an escape and run home for his Death Eater robes.

The result of all this was that, to Severus Snape, the dingy public pool in Cokeworth became a small but important part of his life and history. It was also why he had chosen it for his own first foray into learning this particular technique of Occlumency many years ago.

“Lucid dreaming occurs when you become aware, during a dream, that you are asleep. When you do so, it becomes possible to control different aspects of the dream. Characters, plot, setting. These become manipulatable.”

“That’s cool,” Harry said. “How does it help with Occlumency?”

“Not only does it aid you in gaining control over nightmares, it also helps you develop your dreaming mind and more directly exercise control over the subconscious. Lucid dreaming comes most naturally to people with a more developed prefrontal cortex, a part of the brain highly stimulated by the Occlumency we’ve already been doing. It shouldn’t be too difficult to do. I had my first Occlumency-induced lucid dream when I was twenty-one.”

“What was your first Occluded lucid dream?”

“I dreamed that the Dark Lord came to a public pool I used to frequent, and that I drowned him.”

Harry stared at him for a moment. “That’s… cheery.”

Severus shrugged one shoulder. “Sometimes, one needs to see one’s self fighting their demons and winning.” He had always felt a sense of control in the pool, a feeling of physical powerfulness as he propelled himself down the lane, the muscles throughout his whole body working to increase his speed. It was a place where, as a child, he had been safe from bullies and his father; and where, as an adult, he had a place to temporarily escape the duties of his many roles. For an exercise in learning control, it had seemed right in all of its aspects.

Harry pondered that for a moment, before nodding. “That makes sense.”

Severus looked at the teen in silence for a moment. He was sitting up, alert, but the dark circles under his eyes were not the only sign of exhaustion that Severus could see. Not only had his sleep been interrupted by a bad nightmare, but the evening before had been a very difficult lesson. Coming to a decision, he nodded. “For your lesson tonight, you will read the chapter on lucid dreaming in the mental arts book. No doubt you have not even touched it since I brought it home, but there is valuable information within regarding Occlumency exercises. I have not had you read from it for a lesson before now, as the creation of a mind maze is a deeply personal experience that no book can facilitate. A mentor is almost always required for anyone to succeed in the attempt. Now that you have finished Occluding all of your memories, however, we will be using it more frequently.”

The teen blinked several times. “We’re not going to have a lesson tonight?”

“Not a practical one, no.”

Anyone else might have missed the relieved slump that took over Harry’s shoulders. Severus noticed and smirked. “I think you rather deserve it, after yesterday.”

Harry nodded and reached for the book. Severus took up another of Josh’s studies, and the rest of the evening was spent in comfortable silence as each read their respective works.

“Blast!” Severus exclaimed, woken from a dead sleep by Highland Cathedral.

Harry snorted across the room.

“At least he knows how to play without swerving off-pitch,” Severus groused. He half-stood, half-fell out of bed and exited his sleeping area to find Harry stretching and looking unperturbed at this pointed comment.

“I’m sure I’ll improve with years of practice too,” he said, smirking slightly.

Severus had a vision of himself, old, grey, and with a beard longer than Dumbledore’s, sitting in his armchair and clamping age-spotted hands over his ears as a middle-aged Harry practiced the bagpipes (still playing atrociously). “Your dedication is truly inspirational.”

“The first full song I want to learn is Highland Laddie. That’s the song the Mad Piper-”

“Played at Normandy. Yes, I recall.”

“McAuliffe said it’s a song every piper should know.”

“Did he?” Severus asked, not really caring about the answer, but humoring him nonetheless. Harry had seemed in oddly high spirits ever since he had come home from work yesterday. It appeared that some slight hesitation or worry holding the teen back was gone.

“It’s played at a lot of competitions.”

Severus froze, keeping his face averted so Harry didn’t see the horror washing across his expression. “You want to compete in competitions, do you?” he asked, voice as casual as he could manage. He would hate every minute of it, but Severus knew he would go to every single one anyways.

“Not really,” came the glib reply, and he relaxed.

He was gone in a moment for his lesson, and Severus found himself pacing the cottage.

Less content than ever to sit still and have a cuppa before making Harry breakfast and heading off to work, he stopped briefly at a window. The sun would not rise until after 7 nowadays. Fall was approaching. It was now the early days of October.

Instead, the hills beyond were illuminated by that thin grey-white light that seemed almost a substantial mist preceding true dawn.

It would soon be two months since they arrived here. While he had found a mild tolerance for his job cleaning fish, it was hardly what he wanted to call his life’s work. It was during quiet moments like this that he felt a bit adrift, remembering that his role as a spy was at an end. His purpose was taken from him.

He’d found some new purpose in taking care of Harry. It would have to be enough, but at this moment, he was feeling particularly restless.

A glance at the clock. 6:07.  He had at least fifteen minutes before it would be time to start breakfast.

He set down his half-full mug and grabbed his swimming trunks (at some point, he had been coerced into buying them. The circumstances escape recollection now,) and a towel.

The beach at the edge of the village was perhaps the most active part of the whole community. Fishermen were beginning to set out, or at least begin preparing their boats at this time. He headed a short jog south to a flat, grassy area. Completely alone, he shed his clothes and quickly donned the swimming costume, wading out into the sea before he could think better of it.

The water was almost intolerably cold, but he quickly dove all the way under and did a few dolphin kicks before cresting the surface again and breaking into a brisk front crawl parallel to shore.

Two months out of practice, and he was obliged to slow down slightly. As he warmed up, the water was slightly more bearable, but not much. He soon turned and swam back to where started.

Staggering up to the shore, he quickly wrapped himself in a towel and checked the watch he’d left amongst his clothes. There was time. He sat on the grass and stared out at the horizon. The village was set on the west coast, and some stars still lingered right above the water. The grey mist of light was now more white than grey as the sun came closer to rising.

The wind tossed his wet hair in front of his face, and he brushed it away with a hand. Fingers still tangled amongst black strands, he rested his elbow on his knee and rested the weight of his head on his palm.

Invigorating. That was the word. The water, while cold, was invigorating. A sharp wake-up from melancholy, depressing thoughts. He realized what an opportunity he’d missed. Just because he was no longer at Spinner’s End didn’t mean he had to give up every old routine. It would almost have been familiar if open swimming wasn’t so unusual for him.

It would be a way for him to stay fit, to keep in shape during their time here. Normally he would practice dueling in a special room in the dungeons prepared for the purpose, or else in the cellar at his house.

He wouldn’t be able to continue swimming for long, however. Every day, the daylight was shorter and the water colder. He doubted the water would be tolerable even for short periods very soon.

He redressed quickly and jogged home, both for the exercise and to warm up some more. He reached the cottage just as the sound of poorly-played bagpipes ceased and Harry presumably began walking back.

“Smells great!” Harry said, walking in to the scent of frying potatoes.

“How did it go?”

Harry winced. “That was my first try at Highland Laddie. I know, I know, it’s bad. My notes are about as clear as dogwater.”

Severus snorted, but was interrupted before the sarcastic response made its way past his lips.

“Have you been swimming?”

Severus looked over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, to see Harry pointing at the drying swimming costume thrown carelessly over the privacy screen to dry.

“I might have taken a dip,” he said idly.

“Good,” said Harry, sounding strangely satisfied.

“Why?” he asked, turning around more fully, curious as to why the teen should be so pleased.

“Because we all need to have some fun, Professor,” Harry grinned.

“Nonsense,” Severus scoffed, turning back to the stovetop, despite how much better he had felt since the quick workout. “I don’t do ‘fun’.”

“You dunked me under the water that one time for fun,” Harry reminded him.

Severus had no response to give. Harry, knowing it, gave him a cheeky smirk as Severus handed him breakfast. As Severus left for work, the teen called, “Have fun!” just before the door shut.

As he walked away, Severus rolled his eyes and pretended he wasn’t smiling.