A/N: So here's the third chapter. I hope you like :) P.S. Reviews would be more than welcome !
And there might be things borrowed from the last two books but otherwise the story ignores them :)
Chapter 3: "About the Killing Part..."
It was time for another Occlumency lesson. Harry was walking towards the dungeons, going to face the unavoidable. He had to do this, he had to learn. He just had no idea, how.
He knocked on the door.
"Enter," said the cold, calm voice.
Harry wondered if Snape was mad after their last lesson.
Of course he is. He's always mad at me.
"Good evening, professor," Harry said. He tried to act politely during these lessons. He hadn't cared before — now he did. He didn't know why, though. What he knew was that Snape made it almost impossible.
Snape nodded. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said, though he wasn't.
"Legilimens."
Snape's eyes were pools of black, pushing into Harry's mind. Harry tried to resist, he really did. It didn't help.
Looking at Ginny and Dean and wishing for them to break up
Kissing Ginny
Harry pushed back but it didn't help. Snape was inside his head and he could see everything.
There were black eyes and fragments of a fresh, new memory.
Oh God, no, Harry thought as he recognized the memory. It was too late, though, as the memory played itself without any shame. Snape took a hold of it, not letting it slip away and be replaced by something else. Harry was sure Snape could feel his embarrassment.
"Well, just… rough night… with Snape," Ron said, now roaring with laughter.
Harry spit out his pumpkin juice, turning positively red.
"Well ha-ha," Hermione said dryly though she couldn't quite hold back her smile.
"And here I thought you were my boyfriend," Ginny teased.
"Sorry, sis," Ron said, "you don't stand a chance against the greasy git!"
They both laughed.
"Please just stop," Harry said desperately, blushing more by the minute. "He can see all my memories, remember?"
"Sorry, mate," Ron said, though still smiling.
"He's gonna kill me. It's a wonder he hasn't done it yet."
The others continuing their conversation as Harry looked at his professor and blushed
Harry knew his knees hit the floor before he could feel it.
"Of, fuck," he growled before he could stop himself. It hurts to fall and fall and fall yet again on one's bruised knees.
"Language, Mr. Potter."
Harry got up, not wanting to look at Snape. He had to, though, and there was an amused smirk on his teacher's face.
Harry blushed and Snape's smirk grew even wider.
Harry felt shivers on his back.
"I'm sorry about their behavior," Harry mumbled, blushing further.
"No need to blush, Mr. Potter." Snape sounded smug.
"I'm not blushing," Harry said.
"You most certainly are."
Harry stared at Snape, cheeks flushed. He didn't answer.
"It was, ah, a rough night, indeed."
It would have sounded flirtatious if Snape hadn't mocked him. What am I thinking? He's a sadistic old git who likes to torture people!
Snape had an evil look in his eyes.
"About the killing part… However appealing the thought of it might be, I am not going to kill you. Not after wasting so much time by teaching you. Now, let's continue."
The rest of the lesson went as always — Harry not knowing how to defend himself from the attacks, Snape losing his temper. They snapped at each other and tried again, then snapped a bit more.
Harry was exhausted when he went back to the dormitory. The lesson hadn't been as awful as it could have. Somehow Harry didn't even feel angry at Snape. It was strange, really. After understanding that Snape had really loved his mum, Harry had begun to respect his teacher more. Snape had sacrificed everything — his whole life — to protect Harry. Snape was a good man, a brave man, a broken man, no doubt.
I'm thinking about him way too much these days.
I hope he can't read my thoughts.
Harry fell asleep, hoping that he wouldn't have any visions that night.
Sometimes Severus Snape wished his subconscious would shut up. It had this habit of bringing absurd thoughts to his conscious mind when least wanted.
The boy looks good when he is blushing.
There it was, the idiotic comment that he wanted to disagree with. Potter does not look good, he thought. There was a nagging comment from his subconscious.
And so what if he did? He was the son of Lily Potter. Lily had been beautiful.
Doesn't mean that Potter is.
It was horrible to think about something like that — even for a brief moment. Potter was the most annoying prat Severus had ever met. He was arrogant and stupid and incapable of learning anything.
Still, he could not quite say that he hated Potter anymore. Not to himself, anyway.
He supposed it was because of the fact that he had watched the boy so closely for years now, always trying to protect him. There had to be some kind of… attachment. Familiarity, at least. Severus Snape was no fool. He was not above being human. Humans care about each other — that was a rather unfortunate fact in his opinion. He knew the Potter brat meant something to him, if not much. Still, it was important to see him succeed.
He did not want to fear for the boy but he did.
He would never show it, though.
I'm not the one to hold his hand, he thought, fetching a bottle of firewhisky. As the liquid burnt his throat pleasantly, Severus began to relax.