Chapter 19

So from the Delves of a Troubled Mind

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Severus' cup of tea had not had quite the effect he'd hoped for. Far from calming him, it had, for some strange reason, reminded him of how he'd come to this situation. He could still remember the look of horror on Lily's face when his sleeve had fallen back, revealing the mark, freshly inscribed and burning black against his pale skin.

Now he was imagining a similar expression staring back at him, with those same hauntingly green eyes screaming denial, in hope that the refusal to believe was not in vain. He could already envision the infuriated teen accusing him of being a liar, or spitting that he could never earn the place of a father in his life. He could already hear Dumbledore admonishing him for going about it the wrong way, for waiting far too long. He could already feel himself being torn again as he felt a pitiful sense of rejection; he could already feel anger at at allowing himself to be so vulnerable, so weak.

Now that he was honestly considering telling Harry, he couldn't help but think about how much this was going to cost him. He'd spent years upon years burying these emotions, and now he was laying all that discipline on the line simply so that he could keep the boy he'd hated, and not even a month earlier, from finding out in a more painful way.

Why? He had to ask himself, as he rubbed his throbbing forehead ineffectually. Why does this suddenly matter now? What am I trying to save him from, and what has changed that makes me care? Perhaps it was the fact that before, he could have easily kept this secret and damaged no one apart from himself. In fact, part of his reasoning to Dumbledore had been that the news would only cause the boy to suffer more. Now, however, it had been made clear that Harry was going to find out no matter how Severus attempted to hinder him, and if that was the case, then Severus decided he would rather be viewed as the bearer of bad news than the source of its worsening.

A title suddenly popped into his mind, "Psychology for the Burdened; How to be the Bearer of Bad News."

…Had the Headmaster planned this all along? Had he purposely led Severus to this state of emotional collapse, knowing it would take exactly that sort of breakdown to open him up to this possibility? No- as meddlesome as Dumbledore was, he would not have used such destruction for the mere purpose of obtaining the outcome he desired. In all honesty, that was probably more of Severus' style. The most noble thing about Dumbledore, and perhaps the only thing Severus trusted him on anymore, was the fact that he had great power, and though he knew how to wield every aspect of it to his advantage, he would never do so.

In normal circumstances, Severus wouldn't have been so quick to dismiss the notion that Dumbledore had been plotting against him. In fact, normal circumstances would have had him marching up to the Headmaster's office with accusations and insults at the ready, possibly just for the sake of upsetting him. Tonight, however, he found that his mind kept wandering back to the weighty issue at hand.

It had to be done; Severus would tell Harry, there was nothing else for it. The only question was when, and how. How would he even begin to handle this? Could he possibly play father to the boy, at any point in his life? Could he see him as his and Lily's son, rather than as an exact replica of James Potter?

There was a knock at the door; Severus' head snapped up and he stared at the closed entry to the corridor, suddenly remembering the Occlumency lessons he'd ordered the boy to attend. He could hardly back out again—but this was no time for any of the discussion he had in mind to take place. It was hard enough getting the boy to concentrate with a regular state of affairs in place; Severus could not imagine trying to force his mind into submission after giving him this news. These lessons were crucial, so everything else would have to be saved for later. With great effort, Severus cleared his mind and his expression.

"Come in," Severus breathed grimly as the door opened with a wave of his wand.

Harry stepped sullenly into the office and closed the door behind him. He walked slowly across the office, seemingly stalling for time, and, as Severus observed uneasily, he seemed to be evaluating Severus closely as he did so. Could the boy sense his anxiety, Severus wondered? His eyes narrowed into a glare, an automatic defense; he would treat the boy no differently than usual. He could not allow him to suspect anything was out of order.

From the moment he entered the office, Harry could see that Snape was in an agitated state. He walked slowly to the chair in front of his desk, searching his Professor's face for some sign of what was to come, but he was met only with his standard glare. His hands, however, had a slight tremor as he shuffled the papers aimlessly on his desk and he was sitting abnormally stiff in his chair. Unusual, Harry observed. What had so perturbed his normally calm Professor?

"Sit," said Severus, pointing at the chair in front of his desk. Harry did.

Heavy tension hung between professor and student as both sat silently, Severus steadily avoiding his gaze. Looking down, he realized he had been moving papers around his desk at random; to give the appearance of having done so with purpose, he then shuffled them into one pile and began quickly sorting through them. To his chagrin, Severus had to admit he was having trouble calming his nerves. For Merlin's sake, thought Severus, he had faced the Dark Lord with greater ease than this; Potter should be no more difficult!

Harry waited quietly for Snape to finish sorting his paperwork, trying to avert his eyes, though they kept traveling back to Snape's face seemingly of their own accord. He wondered, briefly, what he had been doing prior to their appointment that had him so unsettled. Had he just returned from a meeting with Voldemort? Harry winced visibly at the thought, thinking of the way he had seen Voldemort treat other followers who had failed him in the past. He remembered, with a pang of guilt, that Snape had suffered for his decision to save Harry, and the thought came to mind that perhaps part of Snape's behavior was owed to the fact that he blamed Harry for the entire ordeal.

Any sympathy felt by Harry, however, quickly dissipated when he realized with a stab of horror that Snape was now closely scrutinizing a paper that read "Class List: Adv. Potions, 6th year" across the top." He went rigid in his chair as he watched Snape's cold eyes flicking from name to name on the list. Harry tensed every time Snape visibly reacted to a name, cocking a doubtful eyebrow, shaking his head, or muttering under his breath. Harry knew for a fact, however, that Snape had reached his name when his narrowed eyes shot wide open and flew suddenly up to Harry. Unconsciously, Harry pressed himself hard against the back of his chair as though to sink through it and out of sight, but he had nowhere to go. A long moment of silence followed, but Harry maintained unwavering eye contact with the Potions master. He hadn't done anything wrong and he refused to behave as though he had.

"How do you explain this?" Severus said at last, brandishing the list at him.

Harry shrugged in an unabashed way, crossing his arms and casting his eyes off to the side. He couldn't explain it, really- he had taken the test and received his results. He decided not to mention Hermione's suspicions that they had been fudged. Snape would have no choice but to accept him into the class.

Severus impatiently smacked the list back down on his desk, looking disgruntled. "Have you lost the ability to speak?" he inquired disdainfully.

Harry unaffectedly returned his gaze to the Potion Master's sharply featured face, and said levelly, "I just thought you'd want to get on with the lesson, sir."

"Not particularly," Severus sneered, looking him over in distaste. "What I'm interested in," he said, lowering his voice, "Is how you managed to become eligible for my N.E.W.T. course. You can't have achieved an Outstanding on the exam, the way you perform in class."

"I did, though," Harry said smoothly, now realizing he could draw thorough enjoyment from Snape's bafflement.

"Let me rephrase that," Severus said tersely. "You can't have earned an Outstanding on the exam. Pardon the confusion."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked, forcing his voice under control as he leaned forward in his chair. "Because I didn't cheat, if that's what you mean. You can't cheat on those things."

"No, Potter," Severus said, narrowing his eyes and resting his arms over his chest. "I don't think you've got the brains to cheat. You'd have to be very clever to pull one over on the professors running the O.W.L.s, and as we've covered before, you lack the required subtlety to do so smoothly. However, you do have a very high advantage over the other students, being that the Ministry has some, ah, misguided treatment to make up for. All you'd have to do was put in a simple request… "

"But I didn't!" Harry protested defensively. "I've not had any contact with the ministry- after last year, you're crazy if you think I would ask them for anything."

"Perhaps we'll see," Severus said, pulling out his wand and making a show of twiddling it between his fingers. "But first-" He leaned in and looked very darkly at Harry, "I think we should discuss the circumstances of these lessons."

Harry scowled and crossed his arms, imagining hexing Snape's overlarge nose right off his ugly face, but said nothing.

"You will, under no circumstances, invade or exploit my memories again," Severus said threateningly, and Harry scowled.

"Well, I can't always help that!" Harry argued.

"Intentionally, then," Severus said pointedly, maintaining his irritatingly placid tones. "You will still refer to this as remedial potions, and—"

"But professor, if I'm in the N.E.W.T. potions-"

"Don't interrupt me Potter," Severus warned. "And this time, you will put in effort. That is an order. You will practice. I will not have my time wasted, and I will not stand by and watch the Order fall to pieces because you won't put in the effort in to keep the Dark Lord out of your mind. I've worked too hard and too long to see him win because the boy who's supposed to bring his defeat had Quidditch practice. Is that understood?"

Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. Snape made it seem as though Harry couldn't care less about the Order, as if he were too selfish to care. Voldemort had killed his parents, his godfather, his friend… he'd robbed from him every happy moment he should have had in his childhood, and was now stealing all the good ones he was supposed to be having at Hogwarts. Voldemort was the reason Harry was cooped up in this stupid office with Snape lecturing him. Even the that, in and of itself, was enough to make him care about his defeat.

"I said, is that understood, Potter?" Severus repeated in a raised voice, snapping Harry to attention.

"Yeah," Harry said tightly, resisting the urge to argue with the man when it surely would make no difference.

"Yes, sir," Severus hissed.

"Fine," Harry ground out. "Shall we get on with it, then, sir?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Clearly, there is more that needs to be covered."

"What?" Harry said exasperatedly, unable to stop himself rolling his eyes. "I understand, alright? I'll show up, I'll stay out of your pensieve, and I'll practice. What more do you want?"

"Respect, Potter," Severus said, tracing the outline of his thin mouth with the tip of his finger. "You will give it to me, as I am rightfully owed. Difficult though it may be for you, it should have prevented all the problems you've previously caused."

All the problems he'd caused? What about the problems Snape had caused?

"…If you respected my time, you would have practiced,"

Harry clenched his fists and gritted his teeth inside his mouth, trying his hardest to hold back the stream of retorts threatening to flow from his pursed lips.

"…If you had respected my privacy, we would have continued these lessons,"

Harry continued to try and block him out. His chest was heaving, his face growing hot as he listened to Snape continue his unjust lecture.

"…If you respected the Order—"

That was it. Harry had had enough. He could no longer stop himself from speaking.

"If you respected the Order, you wouldn't have thrown me out!" The words had come very quickly, bursting from his mouth like water through a dam.

There was an intense feeling of foreboding hanging in the silence of the room as Snape stood up, glaring down at Harry menacingly. "Do not raise your voice to me," He hissed softly. "You deserved to be thrown out, you deserved a lot worse."

"Well, you know what I think?" Harry asked in challenge, he too rising to his feet. "I think you were just waiting for an opportunity to throw me out! I find it odd that you waited until Dumbledore had left before doing it! And I think you might have been glad, even, that he had left—"

Oh, there's the Potter I know so well, Severus thought triumphantly to himself as he swooped around the desk, bearing down on Harry.

"Do not ever," he snarled through clenched teeth, "suggest such a thing again, or you will be very sorry indeed. Whatever transpires between the headmaster and I has nothing to do with you. I know from past experience that you pride yourself in your little detective skills, but do not make the mistake of concerning yourself with matters which involve me. The headmaster may see your prying ways as noble, or brought about by innocent curiosity, but I, Potter, can see straight through the supposed heroism that you so valiantly flaunt every day, using it as an excuse to break every rule that's ever been laid down in this school. I will make no excuses for your behavior, do not make the mistake of thinking I will."

"You're hurting me," Harry said through gritted teeth, and Severus looked down to realize he was grasping the boy's arm rather tightly. Severus glared at him for a moment before angrily thrusting him towards the center of the room and moving his desk back.

"I'm counting to five," He said, turning to Harry. He raised his wand. "Then the lesson commences."

Harry regained his balance and spun around to stare at him in alarm. "Five sec-!" he began to exclaim, but too late.

"Legilimens!"

Harry barely braced in time; the spell hit instantly and a torrent of images surged through his brain.

He was sitting in the bedroom window of the Dursleys' house… He was gazing at Ginny Weasley, crumpled in a heap in the Chamber of Secrets...

In the back of his mind, a voice told him to try and fight, but Snape pursued harder.

Harry was refusing to take the Triwizard cup… he was watching Wormtail cut off his hand, tied to a headstone...

Snape was accessing his most painful memories, but still a voice objected.

No... No...

A swell of emotion suddenly replaced the flashing images: anger, intense anger. Instead of flashing images, he saw Snape's face through a sort of red-tinged haze. He felt a strong push inward, further into his brain, but his rage surged, pulsed, and with a blinding flash of light seemed to to propel Snape backwards.

Everything went dark.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he was lying on the floor of Snape's office and staring up at the man who was peering down at him. Harry imagined he had sort of a look of concern on his face, but as soon as he blinked it had been replaced with a sneer.

"Better, Potter, but not quite there yet."

"Not quite there yet?" Harry objected, now pushing himself to sit. "I pushed you out!"

The truth was that since Sirius' death, Harry had been working harder to clear his mind every night before bed; though he didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction of knowing he had done so, he wanted recognition for the improvement he'd made.

"You did," Severus acknowledged with a stiff nod, "but not without giving me a clear view of your exact emotions. An accomplished Occlumens would have erected the wall before I could access memories that caused such feelings. Suppose I were to utter a lie in the Dark Lord's presence and he sensed my anxiety? It is not enough to push one out- you must clear your mind!"

"If you would just give me time before we started-"

"Time? Time, you need?" Severus scoffed, stepping around him. He extended a hand and pulled Harry to his feet. "Alright then, Potter. We'll see if time can save you. Tell me when you're ready."

And Snape flicked his wand to bring his chair to the center of the room, where he gracefully sat down and bent one leg over the other. For a few moments he watched Harry with a look of mocking expectancy.

"Well I can't do it with you staring at me!" Harry objected.

"Then by all means, Potter, close your eyes," Severus replied smoothly, "but I'm not going to turn around and face the wall, that's just ridiculous. I'm waiting for you to prepare yourself, so kindly get on with it."

"Fine," Harry growled, and he did, in fact, close his eyes.

After what seemed like a long time, but in reality was likely only a few minutes, Harry opened his eyes again looking calmer. "Okay," he said with a sense of resolve, "I'm ready."

"Outstanding," said Severus, enunciating every syllable, as he stood and set his chair aside. He turned back to Harry, raised his wand, and shouted, "Now- Legilimens!"

Harry was ready this time, but it wasn't enough. For the first few seconds, Harry felt an intense pressure against his blank mind. Then, shadowy images started to flash in his peripheral vision, indistinct shapes- it were as though Snape were running down the hallways of his mind, but was unable to open doors to any of the rooms. It wasn't long, however, before he had found the unlocked door...

Harry was in a dark room of revolving doors, his friends at his side... Sirius was shouting, "Is that the best you can do?"... Bellatrix Lestrange was raising her wand...

"NO!" Harry heard himself roar, and then it happened in an instant; one moment he was trying to force Snape out, and the next, fragments of memories not his own flashed before his eyes. He had forced through to Snape's mind; he hadn't intended to, yet he had.

A small, dark haired boy was pushing his way onto the Hogwarts Express... A red-haired girl was smiling and inviting him into her compartment... Two boys inside shifted their trunks to the seats next to them and said they were taken...

Harry knew he should stop, withdraw somehow, but the images were coming so fast. Then, he saw a flash of his mother's face and he pursued the image on an impulse.

A younger Snape was walking with his Mother, hand-in-hand, down Diagon Alley... Snape was shouting at her, pushing her away... Dumbledore was speaking with Lily, who tearfully told him, "You can never tell Severus..."

What, what could Dumbledore never tell Severus? Harry's mind seemed to scream the question, and Snape's responded in return.

"If the boy I've known for the past five years is the boy who's supposed to be my son," Snape was saying over the Headmaster, "then I don't know if I want to be his father..."

Like a pail of cold water, the answer to his question shocked him back to reality and he fell hard to the ground. He looked up at Snape, and at his expression of horror, knew at once that what he'd seen had been real. All in a moment, Harry understood.

All of the dreams he'd had, the connection they'd shared, the way Snape had been alternating between uncharacteristic concern and unparamounted disdain... even the Headmaster's attempts to force them together. It all came down to this one thing. As suddenly as the vision had entered his mind came an understanding of what it meant… what it was connected to. It all made sense now; he understood.

Harry and Severus stood in stunned silence, Harry staring wide-eyed and unfixed as his mind frantically attempted to connect all his scattered thoughts. He knew- the man before him knew… and he wanted nothing to do with it. A mixture of fury and hurt filled Harry's chest; he finally abandoned his aimless stare and lifted his eyes to the man before him.

Snape was leaning on his desk, breathing heavily. "The- hell- Potter," he wheezed.

"What was that?" Harry asked coldly.

Severus froze inwardly; how much had the boy seen? To which memory was he referring? Severus made an active attempt to compose himself, standing up and catching his breath. It took him little more than a moment to construct a response that would give nothing away, for he couldn't risk presuming the worst; there was a slim possibility that Harry was asking about a memory entirely different from the one Severus was so dreading he had witnessed.

"That was called Legilimency, Potter," Severus breathed, endeavoring to sneer despite his distress. "We've been through this enough times that even a boy as thick as you should be able—"

"You know what I'm talking about," Harry said angrily. He couldn't believe Snape was going to attempt to lie. Was he so desperate to keep it a secret? Was he so determined to avoid the burden of having Harry as a son? How long had he known? Rejection and resentment warred for control of the situation inside Harry's mind, and the tirade of accusations he'd been ready to unleash came out in a disbelieving stutter. "What- you- my?"

Severus looked at him for a moment. The boy's topic of inquiry was made obvious by the dejected look of confusion on his face which he was attempting poorly to conceal behind his anger.

So, the boy knew.

Further protest would only add insult, Severus knew. It was cruel to continue the lie when Harry clearly had seen the truth. Severus allowed the hard expression on his face to relent as he admitted in defeat, "I only found out a few days ago, myself."

Harry considered his Professor for a moment. "When?"

"Just after you'd been released from the hospital wing."

Harry dropped his gaze, attempting to hide the pained look he knew had just crossed his face. It didn't matter; he wouldn't have wanted a relationship with this man anyways. All there was between them was intense hatred- but there was no denying that it hurt knowing his true father was alive and wanted nothing to do with him.

But then, who was to say that a biological relationship really earned anyone the title of father? Adopted children still referred to their guardians as "mum" and "dad," because those were the people who took care of them, who loved them, who raised them. The man standing here still hated him despite their relationship, and that certainly didn't make him a father. James had loved Harry as his own; wasn't that enough? He'd even laid down his own life to protect Harry. He'd been the better man than Snape; there was no question about that.

Snape had hated Harry because of who his father was; James had loved him despite it. No- it hardly mattered that his "father" wanted nothing to do with him.

"Well," Harry said abruptly, getting to his feet and gathering his things. He couldn't stay here another minute, and was fairly positive Snape wouldn't much mind if he left. "You'll be really glad to know that I don't want to be your son, either."

"What?" Severus snapped, and instantly regretted his tone. He took a breath, moved to stand between Harry and the door, and tried again, "What do you mean, 'either'?"

Harry rounded on him, chest heaving and face contorted with bitterness. "I saw what you said to Dumbledore, alright? But don't worry about it, I won't be any trouble for you. I'd much rather live with the fact that my father is dead than the fact that he is alive and hates me. Since it's clearly alright with you, we can both just pretend this never happened!" Harry furiously snatched his bag from the nearby chair and made to storm past Snape, refusing to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

Severus' was watching Harry in a sort of shock; he was torn between anger and anguish. He felt horrible that the boy had found this out in such a way, yet on principle he wouldn't stand for this kind of disrespect. He couldn't allow him to leave, not this way; without thinking, he moved in an instant to the door and slammed it shut the before Harry had even succeeded in opening it all the way.

"Let me out!" Harry bellowed, but Severus whipped around and responded:

"Oh, no I won't, Potter! I will not tolerate these temper-tantrums! You will take a seat, calm yourself, and speak to me with some respect!"

Harry, however, was not impressed, nor was he intimidated. He felt numb; there was a deafening buzz ringing in his ears and lingering hatred repelling all rational thought from his brain. He had one goal, and that was to leave. "Expelliarmus," he shouted, sending Snape's wand flying only a few feet away. "Now move."

Severus remained rooted on the spot, confident that Harry would do little more to prevent him from doing so. Angry and impulsive though he knew the boy to be, he very highly doubted he'd actually take this a step further and attack his Professor… he soon found he'd underestimated him; he was suddenly hit with a weak blasting curse and sent sprawled across the floor.

"Potter!" He shouted after the boy, but it was too late. Harry Potter was gone.

xxx End Chapter xxx