Oh my, look who's back. Me. It's me.

If you don't want to read my long note, you may skip down to the non-bold text as you wish.

I procrastinate a lot. Like, a ridiculous amount. I borrowed a book from one of my teachers six years ago I still haven't returned.

But I am doing my best not to abandon this story. It could take months for chapters. But I am doing my best, I promise.

I know you may not believe that, and maybe I don't either sometimes, but I need to see this through to the end. I quit in the middle so much, with my writing and with so much more, it's time I finish something out the right way.

I'll see you in the next installment, my dudes, ladies, and cool cats.

"What."

"Severus will have to-"

"No, I heard what you said," Harry said sarcastically. "I was just wondering if you did."

Again, Dumbledore sighed, stroking his beard.

"No, it is not ideal. In fact, Severus had quite a similar reaction a few hours ago. I believe he accused me of insanity a few times. But I really must explain to you what makes it necessary before you refuse."

Harry stared at him incredulously for a while before finally sighing and dropping his face into his hand before motioning to continue with the other.

"In this sort of situation, when the subject experiences the sort of imbalance that can harm them or others, it is very difficult to resolve without first resolving the events that led up to it. This is quite a different thing, but the theory still applies."

Dumbledore offered him a tin of biscuits, which he declined.

"The well opening may very well be similar to a breaking of some sort in one's mind. Except that rather than the mental sort, it is a magical kind."

Harry lifted his head and nodded, brow furrowed. "So... some kind of magical stress caused the well to break open?" He asked, brushing the dark hair away from his face.

"Yes, that is exactly right. The problem is that, like with a mental stressor, it cannot be brought under your control until the event is resolved, in whatever way that might be." Dumbledore finished, folding his hands on the desk.

"Wait... why does Snape have to do it then? That doesn't explain it." Harry asked, once again frustrated.

"Professor Snape," the headmaster corrected him patiently, "is both a very skilled occlumens and... accustomed to fending off certain types of attack. More than myself at any rate. Those which could seriously damage myself, and as a consequence, many others."

There was another uncomfortable silence between the two seated at Dumbledore's desk and Snape, who was watching from the corner again with his arms crossed, while Harry processed all of that. What could Snape possibly do that Dumbledore... Oh.

"You mean Voldemort." He stated tiredly, not bothering to look either man in the eye.

He didn't need an answer.

"Fine. Just... give me a minute, okay?" He sighed wearily. He got up and rushed out of the office to the hallway.

This again. Having Snape rifle through his memories like a toy chest, to see and feel his most embarrassing and personal moments. It was awful the first time, he could just imagine how it would be now. After Sirius. There were some things he didn't think he could relive.

Harry leaned against the wall, rubbing at his forehead to get rid of the sick feeling that thought gave him.

Mental magic was some of the most harrowing stuff he had ever felt, and he had no desire to go through any of it again, but...

He had to, unless he wanted more people to die.

That was something he definitely couldn't bear.

He went back in, his hands shaking fiercely, but disguised by being hidden in his pockets. His green eyes were tired, but determined.

Snape was sitting in an armchair that had been turned to face another, which Harry assumed he was supposed to sit in. The man looked calm and collected, his legs crossed under his dark cloak like he'd been there a while. Still, he was clenching his ffgists until the knuckles were white. Before Harry got there, Dumbledore gently put a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, I just want you to know... this is a very... personal sort of magic. Intimate, almost. Severus will feel the same emotions you are feeling, albeit through the crystal's filter. I do not think he will hold any of what he finds against you." He said quietly. Harry clenched his hands, nodding to the ground. He moved to go forward, but the old man still held him back. The boy looked up, and saw a grave expression on Dumbledore's face.

"And Harry, I must ask the same of you." He said seriously. "I don't have to tell you how serious mental magic is, but I want you to remember that you are not the only one in a compromising situation." Startled, Harry agreed, not sure what exactly he was referring to, but knowing from his deadly tone that it was serious.

The old wizard smiled sadly, and gently squeezed Harry's shoulder in encouragement.

He sat down in front of Snape, not looking him in the eye.

"Now, if you think you cannot bear through the experience, you must only speak my name, and I will hear you through the crystal. Then I can break off the session. However I must warn you; doing that more than a few times will end up with some possibly undesirable results."

Harry felt like he didn't want to know, but asked anyway.

"What consequences do you mean?"

"It's best we don't go into that I think." Snape growled, his sharp black eyes refusing to point in Harry's direction.

He wanted to argue, but the prospect of what was going to happen drove it out of his mind. He would just have to bear through it. He could do this.

"Fine, just... Let's get this over with." Harry said defeatedly.

He was surprised that Snape hadn't said anything deliberately obnoxious since he'd come back into the room. The man seemed withdrawn. Nervous, almost.

"I need your hands, Potter." He said quietly.

Harry slowly removed them from his pockets, still shaking. He clenched them into fists and tried to make it stop, but Snape saw anyway. He didn't insult him for it, just patiently waited for him to get it under control. That calmed Harry down a considerable amount, and he started to bring his hands down to where Snape's lay open expectantly. He hesitated, and Snape snorted in exasperation, grabbing them himself. Harry jumped, but the man's grip wasn't harsh or cold, just secure enough to hold him in one place.

"It has to begin with the patient (who in this case is Harry) entering the administrator's mind (who would be Severus)." Dumbledore explained.

"Soon after the connection is gained, I will place the crystal between you, and Severus will lead onward."

Harry nodded. "Okay." He said quietly. He could do this. With Snape letting him in instead of forcing himself into Harry's memories.

"Are you ready?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"...yeah. Yes, I'm ready." He answered, more firmly now.

"Alright then, Harry, you may proceed. I will let you know when I introduce the crystal."

Harry met Snape's dark brown eyes. He would have expected them to be as black as his hair. They were guarded and disconnected, and Harry could tell he didn't want to be there any more than he did. Reluctantly, Harry began the spell in his mind.

'Legilimens... legilimens... le-'

This time, the going was easy, but the sense of some uncomfortable intrusion still remained as the world around him faded and the world of Snape's mind appeared.

The first thing Harry came across was guilt. It was like a cloud of smoke, choking every thought and memory.

The next was one of his most recent memories. It was in this very room, only a few hours before Harry had first entered.

"You and I both know what must be done. You must enter Harry's mind using that clarity stone of yours. I know you still have it, don't play the fool." Dumbledore said, sounding irritated. He was leaning over his huge wooden desk, as if holding himself up from weariness as if he'd been arguing he same point for hours, which, where Snape was concerned (Harry mused), could easily be true.

Snape was pacing back and forth in front of it, black robes swirling and one hand pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He stopped and started spitting out an attack.

"You're insane. Absolutely mad. You've said many things in the past, Albus, but this..."

The headmaster shook his head. "Harry is in danger, and is also putting everyone around him in danger at no fault of his own. This is the only way to get the well under control without destroying the boy in the process!"

Snape stared at him incredulously before continuing. "You want me to use that ridiculous rock on him, knowing full well what the side effects could be?"

He laughed harshly. "Oh, no I see, is that the very reason? You think me devoted enough to your cause that I'm willing to forge a mental link with some infantile-"

"SEVERUS SNAPE," Dumbledore roared. The other man paled considerably.

"You will listen to me, now. You are the only one I have on my side with such a link to Voldemort. You are the most qualified person I know to carry this out. You are one of the very few people I can still trust completely. And I trust you, above any other, not to use that boy's pain against him."

Near the end of his speech, his voice fell to a gentle timbre. Snape was standing stiffly, not speaking.

"Severus, the Order needs you. The students need you. Harry needs you." Albus whispered, and placed a hand gently on his former student's arm.

The dark haired man still said nothing. He walked stiffly to the door, and stood there for a moment.

"Just promise me one thing, Albus..."

The headmaster said nothing, but waited for him to continue.

"Don't meddle in it. Let whatever happens happen. Don't try to make the outcome what you want it to be." Snape said, sounding tired.

Albus was very quiet, but then said "Of course, Severus."

Harry was soon swept out of that memory and on to another. One older, but still recent. He felt his hands distantly clench, and Snape's react in surprise, which helped him keep a hold on the connection. He could do this. He could.

The next memory appeared like a movie scene, fading into Harry's line of sight.

Approaching it, flashes of other memories came through.

An older, scowly woman giving a small dark haired toddler a pat on the cheek and pulling a blanket over him.

A teenage boy with greasy black hair clenching his fists in silent anger as another young man hit him in the back of the head with something wet that squelched. The other boy laughing and running away with his friend.

A short young man with rich hazel eyes grinning and slipping his hand into his pale, skinny companion's as they watched a bonfire. A thrill going through the latter.

Harry felt an unpleasant shudder go through the hand he had.

A man with dark eyes and an angry grimace glaring at a young boy and red haired girl hugging at King's Cross Station, tapping his foot impatiently until he could grab the boy's arm and pull him away to go.

Suddenly, the memory that Harry had initially approached came into view, with identical waves of dread going through himself and Snape.

The first thing Harry could see was Snape's office. In it, an uncomfortable looking Snape stood idly nursing a drink. He sighed, pacing back and forth a few times while he finished it off. He whirled around to the door when it was opened by a weary looking Remus Lupin. Snape's face turned sour, but he still asked him quietly "What happened."

Before saying anything, Lupin entered and heavily took a seat and dropped his graying head into his hands.

There was a sharp stab of pain at the answer.

"Sirius is dead."

Snape's turned away, concealing his face.

"...it wasn't a true vision." The potions master said, not really asking.

"It was a trap." Lupin answered. His voice was quiet and weak.

The mousy haired man looked haunted and empty, barely strong enough to lift up his head.

"They got the prophecy." Snape said.

"No."

A flood of relief followed.

"Thank Merlin."

Remus stared at his back.

"I tried to stop him, you know. He just went anyway. He was convinced he could help, and that he had to help Harry." The man said blandly.

Snape said nothing.

"...He always said he felt so useless in that house. I... I tried to give him any task I could to do from there, but... It didn't really help."

Remus clenched his shaking hands into fists.

"Now I've told you, so why the fuck would you care. You hated him. Even if you didn't mean to get him killed, you're sure happy about what you've done now."

The werewolf stood and kicked away the chair he had been sitting on so it slammed into the wall and broke.

"It's a good deal for you, you know. Being rid of Sirius and landing a blow on Harry and I in the same breath. Must be like Christmas." He snarled on his way out the door.

The memories were replaced by a wave of raw emotion.

Self-loathing.

Hatred.

Regret.

Anger

Shame.

Sorrow.