Title: His Patronus

Pairing: Snape/Harry (eventually)

Summary: Just an AU fic set in books 5-7

Part One: Occlumency

"Legilimens!"

Harry fought against the sudden dizzy sensation, but he was almost immediately overwhelmed by the images and sounds coursing through his brain.

He was seven, and Dudley was shoving his head into a school toilet while a lanky boy with mousy hair pulled the handle.

Eleven, a few days before he had received his first Hogwarts letter. He was hiding in his cupboard, having barricaded the door. Uncle Vernon was slamming himself bodily against it, sending hundreds of tiny whorls of dust and plaster down into Harry's hair.

Third year, on the Quidditch pitch. Cedric Diggory smiling at him before zooming off after the snitch.

Last year, looking at Ron from the opposite end of the Gryffindor table. Ron looking away.

"STOP IT!"

He was lying on his back. He struggled to his feet, his head swimming. There was a large black heap on the floor a few feet away. When Harry's eyes focused at last, he realized that it was a very dead-looking Snape.

He crawled over to see if he had accidentally killed his professor. A hand shot up from the heap of robes and grabbed Harry by the collar. He collapsed.

"Potter," hissed Snape, "Would you please show some sign of control?"

Harry and Snape clambered back up to their feet, shooting each other nasty looks as they did.

Snape sat down at his desk.

"Perhaps we shall start at the most incredibly basic aspect of Occlumency," he hissed, "Pull up a chair, Potter."

Harry did as he was told, sitting across the desk from Snape.

"No, Potter. Over here." Snape gestured towards the space beside him. Grimacing, Harry pulled his chair up.

"Now," said Snape, facing Harry and staring directly in his eyes, "For every magical art, there is a mundane Muggle replica, a science or practice which enables those incapable of true magic to utilize our abilities on a small scale. It is the stem from which our magic blossoms. The most elementary form of Legillimancy can be performed by examining someone's pupils. Negative emotions, fear, guilt, anger, hatred – they all are shown by a contraction of the pupil. Positive emotions are shown in a dilation. The degree of the contraction or dilation determines the intensity of the emotion. For example, if I were to mention to you the term 'Death Eaters'," Snape paused, his eyes boring into Harry's, "You're pupils contract. And now I mention your mother, Lily...precisely as I had expected. You are, as usual, woefully predictable. It will not take the Dark Lord to break down your defenses, Potter. Now, when I mention phrases, names, words, you will show no sign of recognition. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Now...Sirius Black...Pathetic, Potter, I could fly a broom through your pupils...Draco Malfoy...You are not making the barest of attempts, Potter."

"Yes, I am!" Harry shouted, "You haven't told me how to keep it from happening!"

Snape shook his head, "The method does not matter; you must obtain the result. Lie to me, Potter! Albus Dumbledore..."

Harry suddenly had an idea.

He thought of Voldemort.

Snape regarded him suspiciously, then said, "The Dark Lord."

Harry thought of Dumbledore.

"Well...Progress. You will forgive me, Potter, if I am a bit shocked. After all, you have made so very little improvement in anything in the entire time I have known you. To achieve even the meagerest victory so quickly...But look how easily you lose control! You must never let your guard down. Now for something a bit more difficult. Tell me that you are a servant of the Dark Lord."

Harry took a breath and looked up at Snape. "I'm a servant of the Dark Lord."

"That will never do. I could tell you with my eyes shut that that was a lie. Tell me again, Potter. And stay neutral."

Harry took a breath and thought I am a member of Dumbledore's Army, but said "I am a servant of the Dark Lord."

Snape was quiet for a few seconds, then, reluctantly said, "Good. Although...You are not remaining neutral. I assume that you are thinking in opposites?"

Harry nodded.

"While that will do for many situations, you will find yourself in some places where it will not be good enough. Unfortunately, the very position you are in now is one such position. You cannot make yourself think constantly in opposites, and even if you do, the Dark Lord will understand what you are doing as easily as I have. Therefore, you must learn to neutralize all thoughts. Think of nothing, or else think of something about which you do not have strong feelings. Once more, Potter. Tell me that you are a servant of the Dark Lord."

I am 15 years old.

"I am a servant of the Dark Lord."

Snape nodded curtly in approval.

"Potter..." he sucked a breath in through his teeth, the sighed. "Perhaps I judged your potential at Occlumency too quickly. You seem to have at least some talent at it, though your concept of it is certainly unorthodox. It's almost curfew, Potter. Get to your dormitory."

The next lesson was brutal.

Harry approached Snape's office and found the door ajar. He came in, looking around for Snape, who was no where to be seen. He was about to leave when he was grabbed by the wrist and flung into an empty chair.

"Have you kept your mind clear, Potter?" Snape hissed, his grip on Harry's wrists tightening as he bore down, their faces inches apart.

"What?" asked Harry, still in shock. Why was Snape attacking him? Had something happened? "Yeah, but-"

"Then you should have no trouble answering my questions. Where is Sirius Black?"

"What are you talking about? Did something happen to Sirius? Is he alright?"

"So you do know where he is! Where? Is he still in the country?"

Harry blinked in confusion. "Last time I saw him, yeah, but what are you–"

"Pathetic, Potter." Snape's voice was calm now, collected. He let go of Harry and turned around. "How, exactly," he began, his back still turned to Harry, "do you expect to be able to use anything you've learned if you cannot apply it?"

"You attacked me!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

"And do you think that anyone else is going to give you time to prepare for an assault? Think, Potter! You must learn everything you can about what is going on around you before you choose to respond."

"Well, you try answering things right – questions that don't make sense from someone who's- who's-"

Snape faced Harry at last. "I have done exactly that, Potter. It is my job. And now I am entrusted with the most laborious task of teaching you to do the same."

They glared in opposite directions for a long moment.

And then suddenly, Harry realized something.

"Sir...is it harder to perform Legillimancy against people with dark eyes?"

Moving a stack of papers off of his desk, Snape gestured for Harry to sit beside him again.

"Legillimancy is only based in the reading of body language; therefore the color of a person's eyes is no obstacle for a true Legillimens. However, one's control over one's body language can also be a great asset in performing Occlumency. And if one naturally has control over their movements, or if one has dark eyes, they can be harder to read."

Snape thought for a minute, then turned to Harry. "Potter, I will make no attempt to alter my natural physical reactions. You may ask me anything, but you must tell me when I am lying."

Harry looked into Snape's eyes. At first, it was impossible to see the line between his iris and his pupil, but after a second or two of searching, Harry could discern tiny grey speckles in his professor's eyes. He struggled to keep his focus on them as he said, "When were you born?"

"January 9, 1960."

No movement.

Harry did a quick bit of mental math that told him that Snape was probably telling the truth.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Black."

"You're lying."

"And what told you that?"

"Your pupils moved."

"Correct. Moving on..."

"How many years have you taught at Hogwarts?"

"Fourteen."

No movement.

Harry wondered how much information Snape would let him have. Best to start with an answer he already knew.

"Do you really hate me?"

Snape hesitated. His pupils contracted, then dialated, then contracted again.

"No," he said.

No movement.

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

Harry laughed nervously.

"You...you have to be."