“So Andromeda Tonks - this is your aunt,” Harry said slowly. “The one that you’ve never spoken to?”

“Indeed she is,” Draco said in a hoarse voice.

“Er - do you mind me asking what happened?” Harry asked hesitantly. “You’ve never really said specifically…”

“Of course.” Draco shook himself. “She’s a blood traitor. She ran off to marry a Muggleborn and brought shame on the whole Black family name.”

That’s it? Harry wisely didn’t voice this thought. That would be a big deal to someone like Narcissa Malfoy, obviously…

“So, are you going to see her?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know!” Draco said, running his hands over his face. “I don’t know what to do. Mother never spoke to her, or even about her, but sometimes Mother told me childhood stories - I think she always preferred Andromeda to Aunt Bella, but of course she could never say such things bluntly, especially in front of Father…”

Harry nodded along, doing his best to make sense of Draco’s ramblings. It was rather difficult, given that he’d never met half of these people.

“I have no family left apart from her!” Draco’s face was pained. “And - well, I don’t particularly care about the blood traitor thing anymore, but the act of eloping alone would bring shame to the Blacks, but what choice would she have with their beliefs? And is it a betrayal of my mother to try and reconnect with someone who she refuses to have any sort of contact with? Does it make me a bad son?”

“It does not.” Harry looked up and saw that Snape had materialised in his doorway. “Do not concern yourself with what Narcissa and Lucius would think, Draco. This is between you and your aunt - the choice to forge a connection with her is yours alone.”

Draco chewed on his lip and didn’t answer immediately. Harry tentatively reached out a hand and squeezed Draco’s shoulder while Snape took a seat at Harry’s desk, watching the two of them closely. His expression was carefully cleared.

“Her daughter’s nice,” Draco said abruptly. “I met her the day my parents got arrested. I didn’t catch a first name, though; she just went by Tonks. She snuck my mother’s necklace out of her holding cell to me. It was kind of her…”

“That is pretty nice,” Harry agreed.

“If her daughter’s nice, she probably is too,” Draco said, mainly to himself. “But what if - oh, I just don’t know! I’ve never spoken to her before! What if it’s awkward? What if she hates me?”

“If she hated you, she wouldn’t have written you a letter asking you out for tea,” Harry pointed out. Snape nodded his agreement.

“But what if I say something bad?” Draco asked anxiously. “I might say something anti-Muggle or Muggleborn, and she’s obviously not going to like that, given her connections!”

“I highly doubt Andromeda will engage you in a discussion about blood purity on your first meeting,” Snape said, raising an eyebrow. “She is also certainly aware of the way you were raised - a minor faux pas will not irreparably offend her.”

Draco nodded absentmindedly, his eyes darting back and forth as he reread the letter. After a few moments of silence, he glanced over to Snape, still sitting at the desk. “What do you think I should do?”

“This choice cannot be made for you,” he said. “This is your family, and your decision.”

“But you think I should go and meet her, don’t you?” Draco said. “I can tell you do.”

Snape paused for a moment, then nodded. “I’ve spoken with and written to Andromeda several times since your parents’ arrests, and found her to be a pleasant woman. I see no reason for you not to see her.”

Draco nodded and turned to Harry. “What about you?”

He hesitated for a moment, surprised that Draco would even ask him. After considering the matter, Harry nodded firmly. “Look, if I had an aunt I didn’t know about that reached out to me, I reckon I’d go for it. Besides, it’s just one meeting. If she’s really horrible, you can just not talk to her again.”

“Good point,” Draco said slowly. “I… I think I’d like to try. I can go, can’t I, Severus?”

“Of course.” Snape frowned. “I would never keep you from your family, Draco. At any rate, I was intending to make a trip into Diagon Alley to do some Christmas shopping.”

“And you’ll both come?” Draco looked over at Harry a little desperately, and he winced. He was certain Snape wouldn’t let him out of these quarters anytime soon after everything that had happened…

But to Harry’s shock, Snape nodded his assent. “We will both accompany you.”

“Wait, really?” Harry said.

“I can’t think of any mischief you’d manage to find under my strict supervision,” Snape pointed out. “One outing will be fine.”

“Thank you.” Draco looked at them both gratefully. “I’m going to write her back, then. I need some time to think on what exactly I should say…”

He withdrew from Harry’s bedroom, muttering to himself. Snape also left without a word, and Harry was left alone to muse over his photo album again, lost in thought. Jealousy was coursing through his bloodstream like burning poison. It wasn’t fair that Draco had an aunt who actually cared about him and wanted to get to know him. Why didn’t Harry have any relatives who wanted that?

Don’t be an arse, Harry told himself furiously. You should be happy for him. 

And Harry was, but that didn’t help prevent the bitter tang of envy tainting it all.

After the letter, the mood in Snape’s quarters became downright depressing. Harry spent the remainder of the day lying on his rug and staring at his photo album dejectedly, only surfacing for a painfully quiet dinner with Snape and Draco. He had elected to stay with them instead of going to the Great Hall to eat. Harry, who still felt ashamed, and upset, and angry, swirled his fork through his mashed potatoes until Snape forced Harry to drink yet another Calming Draught to settle his stomach. That coupled with the one from earlier meant that Harry ended up numb to everything, except for the general feeling of grumpiness hanging over him like a raincloud. He ended up going to bed early to avoid everyone, but could only sleep fitfully.

When Snape roused him the following morning, Harry’s eyes felt horribly heavy from a lack of proper rest. He reluctantly ate his cereal, not wanting to be forced to drink yet another potion, all while Snape watched him closely.

"Miss Granger and Mr Weasley send their regards."

Harry dropped his spoon in shock. "What? When did you see them?"

"They showed up at my office shortly before you awoke," Snape said. "They were rather concerned about your wellbeing."

"You could've gotten me," Harry complained.

Snape's eyebrows rose. "I wonder why I didn't fetch you, Harry. Could it have something to do with the reason you're grounded to my quarters for the entirety of the Christmas holidays? Is there honestly any reason you deserve to see your friends at this current moment?"

Harry winced and returned to his cornflakes, doing his best to look contrite and apologetic.

After a few moments, Snape relented slightly. “I did reassure them that you were fine. Now, once you’ve finished eating, fetch your potions kit. We'll be spending the majority of the morning brewing."

Harry grimaced. Snape was surely going to force him to prepare a wide variety of disgusting ingredients, then…

But when he entered the laboratory in Snape’s quarters, Harry was surprised to see an extra cauldron set up to the side of the room. He stared at it for a moment, then looked back at Snape. “What’s this?”

“A cauldron.” Snape shook his head. “I’d have hoped you would be familiar with the device following two and a half years of Potions instruction, but I suppose I shouldn’t continue to be surprised by your ineptitude…”

“But what’s it doing here?”

“You’re in a laboratory, Harry. Where else would it be?” He rolled his eyes. “We will be brewing today, as I informed you. Take a seat.”

Harry sat down at the workbench the cauldron was set up next to, feeling slightly confused. “Er - why are we brewing? Isn’t there something horrid you want me to chop up?”

“I have been doing some thinking, and decided that we might as well use this time constructively to improve your Potions skills,” Snape explained, heading over to a small cupboard at the back of the room.

“So it’s basically Remedial Potions?” Harry complained, wrinkling his nose. “But I swear my marks improved this year!”

“They still leave something to be desired - if you have a Potions Master for a guardian, there is no reason not to take advantage of that,” Snape said, rummaging through the storage cupboard. Several jars of ingredients flew out and landed on the desk next to Harry. “I expect sme level of academic success from you, Harry. I know you’re capable of great things, with a little push in the right direction.”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. The Dursleys hadn’t cared about academic success of any kind from either Dudley or Harry - when Dudley inevitably failed all of his subjects, Uncle Vernon would simply declare how he didn’t want a swotty nancy boy for a son anyway, while Aunt Petunia bought him some sort of game or toy as a reward no matter how bad his marks were. Harry, meanwhile, had always been average at best in school, since it was nearly impossible to do any homework after his mountain of chores were complete, in the dim light of his cupboard. Besides, Aunt Petunia always binned his school reports without actually reading them. Harry, who had been told he was useless long enough for it to start ringing true, didn’t see the point of trying in school when no one cared how he did, and when he was doomed to fail anyway.

But Snape wasn’t like that. Snape wanted - even expected - Harry to be successful. It did make him feel a little nervous, since Harry wasn’t used to any kind of standards, but not much. Harry was too happy that someone cared at all to worry too much about the expectations that came with being someone’s ward.

“Consider this exercise killing two birds with one stone,” Snape said. “I am perfectly aware of your dislike for my subject, but I still want you to succeed at it. Therefore, I think this is the ideal punishment, hmm? Now, you will be redoing the Dizziness Draught you attempted for the end of term exam.”

Harry grimaced. He remembered that exam - his potion had ended up a dirty yellow instead of the brilliant crimson it was supposed to be. Snape’s expression had been absolutely grim that day…

He slid a textbook onto Harry’s desk and flicked his wand at it. The book fell open to the corresponding page of instructions. “Your potion, as I assume you are aware, was dismally ineffective. Can you identify where in the process you went wrong?”

Harry, who had completed that test almost a week ago and couldn’t entirely remember what he’d even done, was completely stuck. He stared at the ingredients for several minutes, hoping they’d reveal some hidden secret he’d missed, before finally admitting defeat. “I swear I put all of this in! I can’t work it out!”

“Brew it again, then.” Snape gestured to the jars on Harry’s desk, which he suddenly realised were the ingredients for a Dizziness Draught. “Begin.”

Harry frowned. “Aren’t you going to tell me where I went wrong last time?”

“No,” Snape said, heading over to a cauldron and workbench of his own. “Figure it out.”

Harry groaned but began to prepare his ingredients while Snape started chopping things of his own. Harry was almost certain the man was still watching him closely, though, even if his attention appeared to be elsewhere. Harry was frequently checking his textbook to make sure he had all of the correct ingredients, and he sometimes noticed Snape’s unwavering gaze focused solely on him. It was slightly unnerving, but Harry did his best to ignore it.

Halfway through the process, when Harry had nothing to do except wait for his potion to finish simmering and hope for the best, he turned to Snape with a frown. “Sir?”

“Mmm?” Snape didn’t look up from the cauldron, forehead furrowed with concentration.

“About Draco’s aunt,” Harry said hesitantly, daring to ask the question he’d been wondering since last night. “Do you know if it’s going to be okay when he meets with her?”

“If it went catastrophically, I would be very surprised,” Snape replied, sliding some sort of powdered root into his cauldron. He stirred it twice and finally looked up at Harry. “Andromeda is a very pleasant woman, and she is perfectly aware of the way Draco was raised as she was brought up similarly. They’ll get along with time, I believe.”

“Do you know her, sir?” Harry asked.

“Not well, but I have had occasion to meet with her since becoming Draco’s guardian,” Snape explained. “She tried to take him in after the Malfoys were arrested, but Narcissa had specifically stipulated that wasn’t to happen, which is how he ended up with me instead of with a blood relative. Still, she wants to be a presence in Draco’s life. Andromeda and I have been in correspondence for several months - she’d wanted to reach out sooner, but I suggested she wait until his new situation had settled before involving herself.”

“That’ll be nice for him.” Harry looked sadly into his bubbling cauldron. What he’d do for an aunt who actually bothered to get to know him…

“May I make a request?” Snape said abruptly.

“Hmm?” Harry looked up again.

“Will you at last cease with the constant honorifics and simply call me Severus?” Snape asked. “I am your guardian, you know. We don’t need to observe such stringent formalities. Being constantly referred to as ‘sir’ in my own quarters makes me feel like nothing more than a professor.”

“Oh. Um, okay.” Harry shifted in place, surprised by the request. “What if I slip up in class, though?”

“I doubt you will, but if you do, I’ll make a great show of things and give you a fake detention,” Snape said, waving a hand dismissively. “Will you at least give it a go?”

Harry nodded. “Okay, er - Severus.”

He returned to his potion, feeling slightly awkward. As he stared into the bubbling cauldron, Harry suddenly realised that saying Severus didn’t feel as horribly unnatural as it had back in August, when Snape had originally said they could switch to first names. At the time, the idea of calling Snape by his first name had been absolutely horrifying, and Harry felt like he could get in trouble at any moment for it. Now, though? Harry felt a lot more comfortable with Snape in general, so it wasn’t as weird anymore. It was like the man said; he was Harry’s guardian, not just his professor. Maybe Harry needed to remember that.

Moments later, disaster struck. Instead of turning to the crimson he was supposed to have, the potion returned back to the dirty yellow of his final exam. Harry groaned. “I swear I put all the ingredients in right! I triple checked, and everything, I’m sure I did that properly!”

“I can confirm that you did.” Snape vanished the contents of Harry’s cauldron. “Try again.”

“But I don’t know where I’m going wrong!” Harry complained. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

“Because I am trying to teach you critical thinking as well as Potions.” Snape gestured to the cauldron. “As I said, you put the correct ingredients in. Use that, work out where else you might have gone wrong, and do it over again.”

Harry muttered irritably under his breath and glowered at the ingredients. “Maybe the cauldron hates me?”

“It’s an inanimate object.”

“I knew that,” Harry grumbled, shooting a glare at Snape before returning to the ingredients. He had to give it to Snape - this was an ingenious punishment. Very teacher-y, to make Harry do something he hated over and over while simultaneously making him learn some sort of lesson…

He sighed and stared at the textbook. What else could possibly be going wrong if Harry had put all of the correct ingredients in? Maybe it was the way he was preparing the ingredients or something? Harry knew he could sometimes be a bit sloppy with his slicing and dicing, but that was mostly when he was under time pressure - he was going to be stuck brewing the stupid Dizziness Draught until January if Snape had his way, so Harry might as well redo it with careful attention to how he prepared the ingredients…

But another hour later, the Dizziness Draught wasn’t red. While the shade of yellow it had turned was a tiny bit brighter, Harry didn’t think his ingredient preparation was the issue here…

“What’s the problem, then?” Harry asked, turning back to Snape.

“Figure it out.” He vanished the contents of the cauldron. “Again.”

“Please, just tell me!” Harry said, slumping forwards and leaning his head against the workbench. “This is so frustrating!”

“Use a process of elimination,” Snape said. “Rule out the things you know haven’t interfered with the potion, and eventually you’ll discover the issue.”

“I don’t want to wait for eventually, though!” Harry complained. “This is torture!”

“You know, patience is a virtue, and it is one you certainly do not possess in any quantity,” Snape said, raising his eyebrows. “The reason behind this so-called torture is because your behaviour yesterday has shown me that you completely lack the ability to sit and reflect on cause and effect. I am going to correct that, as much as you may dislike the process, and I believe this lesson will help immensely. Start brewing again.”

Harry wasn’t entirely sure how Potions, of all things, was supposed to teach him to be less impulsive, but he certainly wasn’t happy about it. Still, he clearly wasn’t getting out of this until he figured out where he could be going wrong…

So it wasn’t the ingredients he was putting in, and it wasn’t the way he was preparing them… what else could be involved that Harry was screwing up? Could he be putting them in the cauldron in the wrong order?

One ruined potion later confirmed that he was not. Perhaps it was the amount of time he left it on the heat?

Nope.

Harry was onto his fifth Dizziness Draught when the problem at last dawned on him. “I’m stirring it wrong, aren’t I?”

“If I was going to tell you, I would have done so earlier,” Snape said, not even bothering to look up from his cauldron.

Still, Harry just knew he was onto something. He was sure he was doing the prescribed five counterclockwise and ten clockwise stirs - he’d counted them enough bloody times over the last few hours to be certain - so Harry thought it had to be a timing thing. He stirred his cauldron carefully and attentively, taking great care to keep his stirs even and precise and to count things down to the exact second. Harry could have cried with relief when his potion at last turned the deep crimson required.

Snape came to the side of his desk and nodded approvingly. “You worked it out. Well done, Harry.”

Harry actually found himself smiling, something he didn’t think he’d ever done in a Potions lesson before. Solving the problem after so many hours of struggling was immensely satisfying, and Harry felt rather proud of himself.

“We’ve been at this for several hours - let’s break for lunch,” Snape said.

As they travelled out of the laboratory and into the kitchen, where food was already waiting for them on the table, Snape turned to Harry with a thoughtful look on his face. “I have some notes on your general stirring technique.”

“Yeah?”

“You tend to stir too quickly or unevenly,” Snape said, pulling out his chair at the kitchen table and taking a seat. “You more or less corrected it on that last attempt, but even then you were slightly too hasty. A more delicate potion wouldn't respond well to that.”

“Oh.” Harry sat down opposite as Draco wandered into the room. His hair was mussed, like he’d only just woken up recently - he’d clearly had a lie in today. “I guess I’ve kind of noticed that, because Hermione always finishes stirring after me. I sort of lose track while I’m doing it. I don’t know how to keep it in time like she does.”

Snape’s expression turned rather wistful. “You know, your mother had the same issue.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “But I thought you said she was brilliant at Potions!”

“She was,” Snape said. “Lily had ways around it - helpful methods to maintain appropriate rhythm. I use her technique myself for trickier potions, to help me keep track of the seconds.”

“What methods?” he asked eagerly. “Can I use them, too?”

“Yes. Lily used to hum,” Snape said. “‘Waterloo’ was her preferred song…”

After mulling over that nugget of information, Harry had an abrupt realisation. “Wait - you just said you use her methods. You’re not humming ABBA while you brew stuff, are you?”

Snape scowled at his food but didn’t deny it. Harry grinned, delighted. “Oh my God, that’s amazing!”

“Pull yourself together,” Snape snapped. Harry didn’t let the man’s ire put him off.

“But you’re so…you!” he exclaimed, gesturing to Snape rather giddily. “And you listen to ABBA!”

“I do not choose to listen to them!” he said exasperatedly. “Everyone knows them, Potter!”

“I doubt that,” Harry laughed. “Hey, Draco. Do you know who ABBA are?”

Draco, who had spent the entire conversation looking quite confused, slowly shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“See?” Harry smirked. “You had to try to know them.”

“Are you forgetting that I’m a half-blood?” Snape inquired icily. “Do you not think I’d have more reason to be exposed to Muggle music than Draco would be?”

Harry scoffed. “Yeah, but it’s not like you spent much time dancing to music in Muggle nightclubs, is it?”

Snape didn’t bother to look at him. “There were a few occasions.”

Harry began to choke on his food. He honestly couldn’t tell if Snape was having him on or not.

“Do make an effort to actually chew your lunch, please.” Snape looked remarkably unimpressed as Harry hit a hand against his chest and gasped for air. “Honestly…"

“I’m going to listen out for you humming the next time you teach me Potions,” Harry announced once he’d recovered himself.

Snape scowled at him furiously and stabbed his fork into his food with a vengeance.

Harry had been expecting his Potions punishment to continue that afternoon. Instead of taking him back to the laboratory, though, Snape actually led Harry into his office. Strange - maybe he wanted Harry to do lines, or something?

Snape sat down at his desk, and gestured for Harry to take a seat directly opposite. He did so slightly nervously, while Snape examined him with an exacting gaze.

“I think this afternoon would be a good time to begin your Occlumency lessons,” he said, lacing his fingers together.

“Wait, really?” Harry said. “Even though I’m in trouble?”

“I did promise you in November that I’d begin your lessons during the Christmas break,” Snape reminded him. “Your behaviour does not change that.”

“Oh.” Harry had sort of expected it to change everything, in all honesty. He kept finding himself surprised by how normal Snape was being with him today, even though Harry was in a ton of trouble. He’d have thought Snape would be absolutely horrid to him until Harry somehow earned back his favour.

“We are doing these lessons so you have better coping mechanisms for your emotions, if you’ll remember,” Snape added. “Your reaction to what you discovered about Black yesterday shows me we need to get on with that a lot more urgently than I’d anticipated. I want you to have a better way to deal with extreme emotional upset that doesn’t require constant Calming Draughts - it’s unsustainable.”

Harry broke eye contact and stared at the desk, certain his face was bright red. He still felt horribly embarrassed about how spectacularly he’d lost control over Black yesterday, even more so since Snape had seen him like that. It was strange; Harry had to maintain exacting control over his emotions with the Dursleys, and always felt like he was walking on eggshells around Uncle Vernon to avoid setting him off. Whenever he was with Snape, though, Harry found himself increasingly losing more and more of his carefully constructed composure.

“Now, let’s begin with what you already know about Occlumency,” Snape prompted.

“Er - not a lot,” Harry admitted, trying to remember what Snape had told him about it in November. “I just know it’s the thing that you do when you get really angry. It’s for emotional control, right?”

“Yes, and no,” he said. “You’ll have mainly seen it within the context of emotional control, but the primary purpose of Occlumency is to protect oneself from Legilimency - mental attacks from another wizard, that is. In order to do that, however, you need to have careful control over your thoughts, memories and emotions. While I don’t anticipate you being the victim of a slew of Legilimency attacks, the techniques you need for Occlumency are just generally useful when it comes to relaxing your mind in the face of emotional distress.”

“Okay.”

“Now, we’re going to start with the most basic technique - a mindscape,” Snape said. “This is simply a place you feel calm. Picturing it will help you clear your mind of all emotions and other memories.”

“What sort of place?” Harry asked.

“Do you recall the night I Occluded for you?”

He nodded. “It felt like I was on an ocean or something, floating around.”

“That was because I brought you into my mindscape, a place I feel calmest,” Snape said. “And for me, that is a beach. The specific beach is a place I visited when I was young for a holiday, which is one of my happier memories. It has a calming influence on me, and by utilising that tranquillity I can hide my memories and emotions beneath the water from myself and from intruders.”

“How does that work?” Harry asked curiously. The knowledge that Snape could hypothetically extract any secrets of Harry’s still set his teeth on edge, so he’d dearly love to be able to properly hide them. He could get away with so much more, then…

“That is a slightly more advanced technique you don’t require just yet,” Snape said. Harry slumped back in his seat, disappointed. “We will get to it eventually as it is a rather useful skill, but for now, you are just using Occlumency to control your emotions.”

“Okay.” Harry shifted in place. “So, do I think of a beach or something? I’ve never actually been to one, but -”

“Then it won’t work,” Snape interrupted, holding up a hand. “Techniques that I use will not work for you, necessarily. It needs to be a place that makes you feel calm, not me. Once you come up with it, you will then recreate it as vividly as possible in your own head. If you’ve never been to a beach, you won’t be able to picture it with the level of detail required for this all to work.”

“Er - would you mind if I looked at your mindscape again?” Harry asked tentatively. “Like we did before, if that’s even a thing you can do again. It helps me to figure out how to do stuff if I can see what I’m meant to be doing.”

“I should be able to manage that. Try to relax,” Snape said, moving forwards so his dark gaze filled Harry’s vision. He got his wand out of his robe pocket. “I’m going to pull you into my mind, like we did in November, and it’ll be easier if you don’t tense, or fight me. Legilimens.”

In moments, Harry felt like his surroundings had melted away. The darkness of the dungeons was replaced by a warm, golden light, and Harry became aware of the sound of hissing. It turned out to be an ocean - blue and powerful, sending a rolling rush of water up the yellow sand to soak Harry’s ankles. His socks and shoes didn’t feel wet at all as the tide receded, though.

Harry took in his surroundings and let out a small sigh of happiness. The place was beautiful, like something out of a postcard. Rolling green hills turned into yellow sand, and beyond that stood the blue-green sea, stretching all the way to the cloudless horizon. Harry had never been somewhere that felt so utterly vast.

“This is my mindscape.”

Harry jumped at the sound of Snape’s voice, which sounded strangely distorted. It almost seemed to reverberate and fill the whole space, which was odd, since the cool breeze tousling Harry’s hair should have chopped his voice and carried it away without any sort of echo.

“It’s so pretty,” he said, still marvelling at his surroundings.

“I’ve had a lot of practice in maintaining it,” Snape said, taking a step forward. Harry thought his usual black robes seemed a little out of place on a beach, but when Harry tried to picture him in more appropriate gear, like shorts and a floral shirt, the mental image was so horrifying that he immediately needed to banish it.

“So, where are we?”

“Cornwall,” Snape said. “Your grandparents invited me on their family holiday here when I was thirteen.” He smirked. “Your mother and I put a crab in Petunia’s bed.”

Harry laughed. “She must have flipped!”

“There was rather a lot of screaming involved, as I recall.” Snape was still smiling to himself. “We denied it vehemently, of course, but she certainly knew we were behind it.”

Snape began to walk along the beach, while Harry followed next to him. “Now, typically you would not block off all outside stimuli to enter a mindscape as I have done now, but as a beginner, it can be rather helpful to bring your full presence into the memory to nail down the finer details. With time, you will be able to use the mindscape while concentrating on matters outside of your head. Now, let’s return to the real world.”

The beach began to melt away, and the familiar stone walls of Snape’s office replaced it. He himself moved back slightly, and gave Harry a thoughtful look. “Now, think about what sort of place would work for you. Somewhere you find calming.”

“Okay.”

Harry sat back and thought hard about what sort of place would do. Places he’d felt calm… he didn’t have a place from his childhood he could draw on, really. The best place Harry could think of was the park in Little Whinging, but even that was tainted - Dudley and his gang had found him there way too often for impromptu games of Harry Hunting.

The Burrow had always been a source of comfort to Harry, but he wasn’t quite sure if that was right. He couldn’t imagine it with enough detail. Spinner’s End? No that didn’t do it, either. There was an element of anxiety that underlaid Harry’s memories of Cokeworth because of everything he’d been going through while living there, as well as the original hostility between himself, Snape and Draco. It was happier than Little Whinging, certainly, but it still wasn’t calming.

Hogwarts seemed right, to a degree, but Harry got the feeling it was too big, somehow. He knew he needed something more precise.

In the end, the answer came to him: the Quidditch pitch. He always felt calm and relaxed when flying and training with his team. Flying was better than anything else in the world for him.

“You have an idea?” Snape prompted.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “The Quidditch pitch, I’m thinking.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Snape looked mildly amused. “Now, onto the Occlumency process. Close your eyes and relax.”

Harry obeyed, and wrung his hands in his lap nervously. After a moment, he reopened his eyes. “This feels weird.”

“Concentrate,” Snape ordered sharply. Harry squeezed his eyes shut again and tried to relax, but he wasn’t sure what relax meant. Was he particularly tense? How did someone relax, anyway? He couldn’t manage it now he was thinking about it. At any rate, sitting in a silent room with his eyes closed did not relax Harry in the slightest - the opposite, in fact. He liked being able to see what was going on around him, but being trapped within the darkness behind his eyelids left Harry feeling uncomfortably vulnerable to attack.

“Focus on your breathing.” Snape’s voice in the silence made Harry jump. “Breathe in as deeply as you can manage, then expel all the breath from your lungs. Count if you must, and keep doing it.”

Harry obeyed, focusing on the way his chest felt as it rose and fell. He was concentrating so hard on maintaining a rhythm that he managed to forget some of the weirdness of the situation.

“Continue to breathe, but start trying to picture the Quidditch pitch,” Snape instructed. “Imagine any details you can: the colour of the sky, the forest and the mountains in the distance, the sound of the wind through the air, and the feeling of it on your skin. Every detail, remember. Draw on each and every sense.”

Harry did so. He painted as vivid of a picture in his mind as possible: the crunch of the grass beneath his feet as he walked, the wind on his face, the towering golden goalposts, the castle and jagged mountain peaks it was nestled upon, Hagrid’s hut expelling a plume of smoke at the edge of the forest… it was almost like he was there.

“That’s enough. Open your eyes.”

Harry did so, and noticed Snape observing him with satisfaction. “A very good first try.”

“Is this all sort of like Muggle meditation?” Harry asked.

“In a way, but the Occlumency part is linked to your magic,” Snape explained. “Shielding thoughts and retreating into your mindscape fully requires you to tap into your powers.”

“Hmm.” Harry tilted his head. “So now what?”

“This is something of a slow process,” Snape said. “We’ll do a lesson every day to reinforce the image of your mindscape, and in a week or so, I’ll try and draw you into it using Legilimency. You will repeat this exercise every night before you go to sleep, in order to build up detail and make this habit.”

“Okay, will do.” Harry smiled. “Thanks for helping me with all this.”

“There is no need to thank me.”

But there was, Harry thought. Thank you didn’t even begin to sum up all of the things Harry wanted to say to his guardian that he couldn't ever quite find the words for.