I'm not J. K. Rowling, therefore I do not own neither Harry nor Snape nor anything else related to the HP-universe. But it'd be pretty rad if I did...

"The headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term." Snape said. "Who's going to teach me?" Harry asked. Snape raised an eyebrow. "I am," he said.

Harry closed his eyes, replaying the conversation in his mind, remembering how Snape had told Sirius that Harry was very much like his father, so arrogant he would not take criticism to heart. He turned over to lie on his back and stared into the darkness enveloping him. He'd been taking Occlumency lessons for a while now, and it was frustrating and tiring and he hated spending evenings at Snape's office. He rolled over on his side, curling up under the blanket and hugging his knees. The knowledge that tomorrow he would once again have to go through it was depressing. Harry sighed, and tried to get some sleep.

"You are not trying, Potter!" Snape said, his voice thick with contempt "you are handing me your mind so readily I am tempted to think you want me to take control of it!"

Harry clenched his fists and stared at the floor in Snape's office. Once again Snape had entered his mind, once again had he seen things, Harry did not want anyone, least of all Snape, to know. He felt his cheeks burn with shame as he thought of the memories that had flashed before his eyes. "Get up, Potter, and empty your mind. By Merlin, boy, you of all people should not find that hard!"

Harry gritted his teeth and stood up, trying to contain the anger, the embarrasment, the urge to talk back. "Yes, sir" he said, staring straight at Severus. This time, he would not let him in. "Good... Legilimens!"

He was at his first Quidditch match, soaring on his broom, chasing the snitch... He was in the broom closet under the stairs, playing with toy soldiers, hearing Dudley and his friends argue over whose turn it was to play computer... He was in the dormitory, watching Dean Thomas change, taking in his smooth, chocolate brown skin...

"NO!" he heard himself yell, as a searing pain in his head made him realize he was, again, on all four and had hit his head on the desk.

He sat up, panting, face flushed, palms sweaty, a cold dread creeping over him. Had Snape seen? Had he seen this, his most intimate secret? His eyes darted to Snape's face. He wore his usual expression of utter distaste, revealing nothing whatsoever. Let him not have seen this. Please, please, let him not know this, Harry thought to himself, clenching his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms.

"We are not getting anywhere with this. You are weak, Potter. The Dark Lord will have no trouble taking over your mind if you do not make an effort!" Snape turned his back and started sorting papers on his desk. "You may leave."

Harry slowly got up and went to the door. As he opened it, he turned his head and shot one last glance at Snape. His back and the flowing black robes, revealed nothing. He desperately hoped Snape had not seen flashes of this.

As soon as the door closed, Snape turned around. His lips curled up as he watched the heavy wooden door through which Potter had left. "Most interesting," he mumbled to himself, tracing the outline of his mouth with a finger, "most interesting indeed."

He sat down at the desk and tapped it with his wand. A drawer popped open that had not been there a moment before. He reached into the drawer and pulled out a picture. James and Lily Potter smiled and waved at him from the black and white photograph in the frame. He smiled a soft smile, a smile he never let anyone see, and caressed the picture. Then he abruptly put it back in the drawer and shut it. The drawer instantly vanished from sight, leaving no indication of it ever having existed.

Snape stood up, arranged his robe, and went out in the corridor.

This is my first ever try at fanfiction – be gentle!