Harry woke the next morning, and for a moment forgot what had happened the night before. Then, as he fully awoke, he remembered. He felt as if his body could be crushed under the guilt he felt, and he felt his eyes prickle. He had messed everything up, and he didn't know if he would be able to fix it. He had managed to make his way back to his room after what felt like hours of crying outside of Snape's quarters, and he slept fitfully.
He sat there, fighting off tears, and wondered what he could do about it. I will write an apology, he thought to himself, and quickly pulled out the parchment and quill. Maybe he will have cooled off by this morning.
Harry quickly penned:
Professor Snape,
I am so sorry. So, so sorry. I have never felt so sorry in my whole life. I really screwed up, and now I feel that you are going to hate me forever. Please don't, please forgive me. You can punish me however you want, I don't care. Please, just talk to me again.
The Murtlap Thief
Harry looked at the note, hoping that he sounded sorry enough, and then gave it to Hedwig to deliver. Feeling somewhat cheered that there might be some hope in restoring the relationship, he began to get dressed. Maybe he could even catch Snape at breakfast and apologize in person.
Then, as he was about to leave the room, Hedwig arrived with a parchment in her beak. It read:
Dear Mr. Potter,
I am not a forgiving person. Please discontinue all contact with me beyond what is needed for potions class; any further contact will be ignored by me. I have no interest in punishing you, as that would imply I wanted further relationship with you. I do not.
Professor Snape
Harry couldn't hardly read the note through his tears, and he threw himself on his bed and covered his head with his pillow.
"What's going on, mate?" he heard Ron ask him as he returned from his shower.
Harry thrust the note at him, and he heard Ron whistle slowly.
"What did you do?" he asked softly, seeing how upset Harry was.
"I snooped on his private memories in a pensieve," Harry told him. "What am I going to do, Ron?"
"Give him a little while to calm down," Ron advised. "Then try again. My mum is always more reasonable after a time to calm down."
"What if he doesn't?" Harry asked desperately.
"It's just Snape," Ron shrugged. "What does it really matter?"
"It matters," Harry answered. "I'm not sure why it matters so much, but it matters."
"If he does take you back you're in for a rare walloping," Ron told him carefully. "Are you sure that's worth it? Maybe it would be better just to stay away."
"It's worth it," Harry shrugged. "I don't really care."
"Your funeral, mate," Ron shrugged. "You should really come down to breakfast, though. Keeping up your strength and all that."
"I can't eat," Harry answered. "I'll catch up in class."
"Alright," Ron nodded. "I'll sneak you out an apple or something."
. . .
"You've hardly touched your breakfast," Minerva observed. "Are you feeling well, Severus?"
"I'm not hungry," he replied to her carefully.
"Seems Mr. Potter isn't either," Minerva observed. "Ron's here but he's not. That's most unusual, perhaps I should check on him."
"Perhaps," Snape replied, sipping some tea. Then he grimaced, reminded of Harry's Christmas present.
Snape felt the dilemma of really wanting to forgive the boy. The forgiving voice in his head said that they had just had a conversation about how Harry wanted to trust him but was confused, could he really blame him for wanting to find out for sure? Sure, it was a gross violation, but an understandable one. Perhaps, like Minerva said, it would even do Harry some good to understand his history with his dad. Perhaps he could just give the boy a good whack or two with the paddle and have the matter done with.
But the harder part of Snape, the part that felt younger and more raw, couldn't move past the feeling of betrayal. He knew that the note he had sent the boy was harsh, and he knew how distraught the boy was feeling. But he just couldn't move past the betrayal, the sense of hurt the boy had caused.
"You had your time with him last night, was he fine then?" she asked, her eyes glinting a bit to show that she understood more than she let on.
"Our time ended . . . abruptly," Snape told her. "He seemed fine."
"What did the lad do?" she asked with a sigh.
"Nothing I wish to discuss," he replied, pushing himself away from the table and standing. "Good day, Professor."
. . .
Harry managed to make it to his first class, but he knew he must look terrible by the way that Hermione kept staring at him with a look of concern on her face, but Harry couldn't muster the ability to care at all.
After class, she cornered him. "What is going on?" she demanded.
"I pissed Snape off," Harry replied. "He's not going to forgive me."
"What did you?" she asked incredulously.
"He was using a pensieve to protect some of his memories during our lesson," Harry confessed, tears prickling his eyes. "He left the room for a minute, and I, well, I peeked."
"You deliberately peeked?" Hermione asked, aghast. "Why?"
"Well, I was just thinking about what Ron said," Harry admitted. "I was thinking about whether or not Snape was truly trustworthy. And I don't know, temptation got the better of me I guess. I feel wretched."
"He wrote an apology and Snape wrote back," Ron informed her. "He told Harry he wanted nothing more to do with him."
"He's apparently 'not a forgiving person,'" Harry quoted. "I don't know what to do."
"I said to give him a few days to cool off," Ron said.
"That's actually good advice," Hermione told him. "Try apologizing again in a few days. He's an adult, Harry, surely he has to forgive you at some point."
"He's Severus Snape," Ron replied. "He still hates Harry's dad and he died years ago. The man can hold a grudge."
"You're not helping!" Hermione snapped at him.
"Maybe if I follow the plan well without him he'll be impressed," Harry reasoned. "Last night before . . . well, before I was such an idiot, Snape said that I needed to find a half-blood that was not in Slytherin with ties to a powerful Slytherin pure-blooded family. Anyone come to mind?"
"Not right away," Hermione admitted. "But there's got to be someone. I'll start working on it. Perhaps we can ask the DA, we have a meeting tonight."
"Hermione, I don't know if I feel like it . . ." Harry started.
"Nonsense," she told him. "You need to keep it up. Like you said, maybe it will impress him. At least it will keep your mind off of it."
"Okay," Harry nodded numbly. He didn't have the strength of will to argue.
"Remember, tonight we're doing the defensive wards from the book," Hermione reminded him. "I think our first order of business is to make sure there are good wards on the Room of Requirement."
. . .
Over the next week, Harry didn't feel any better. He felt like he was going through the motions of going to class and trying to force himself to eat, but he remained completely miserable. He tried twice more to send apology notes, and both times he received no reply from the Potions master. But the worst of all was in potions class itself. In years previous Snape had often picked on Harry and ridiculed him, but now he pretended that the child was completely invisible. Harry sat like a dejected lump for most of the class. Being ignored was infinitely worse than being the target.
By the third week after The Incident, Harry spent the time trying to catch his eye, and Snape patently ignored him. He even wrote an apology at the end of his potions essay, which was likewise ignored. Harry even contemplated creating some sort of mischief in class that would force Snape to deal with him, but he was afraid the man would banish him from Potions class altogether. At least this way he got to see him. Minerva watched the boy wilt inside in response to Snape's coldness, but felt at a loss for how to help him when neither of them would talk to her about it. Dumbledore was replaced by Umbridge, and she became Headmistress without Harry hardly acknowledging it. And Snape didn't gloat that his prediction came true.
"Maybe if we succeed in getting the toad out then Snape will forgive you," Ron suggested at dinner one night. "Like, we're making it up to him."
"It's worth a try," Harry answered, nudging his mashed potatoes with his fork but not really eating any of them. He sighed. "I'm beginning to wonder if it's a lost cause."
"It's not a lost cause," Hermione told him briskly. "We just have to do what we can. I'm sure this is hard on Professor Snape as well."
"He could just forgive me," Harry grumbled.
"Do you understand what a violation this was?" Hermione asked.
"Well, I know he was embarrassed . . ."
"You snooped and saw him at his most vulnerable," Hermione explained. "His most humiliated. And you weren't just told about it - you saw it. How would you feel if Snape went snooping and found your most horrifying memories?"
"Well, he sort of has . . ."
"But that was to teach you," Hermione answered firmly. "And you knew he was going to do it, and he didn't rifle through maliciously. Can't you see how what you did was different?"
"I guess," Harry answered. "But I just did it to see if I could trust him!"
"And don't you think he knows that?" Hermione answered. "After all he's tried to do for you . . ."
"After four years of being a git!" Ron protested.
"Yes, but he is trying."
"Or was," Harry told her. "Until I screwed it up."
"Focus on your purpose!" Hermione snapped. "Moping is getting you nowhere."
"You're right," Harry nodded. "I will try to focus."
"I have good news," Hermione announced. "We have found our Patsy."
"There's no girl named Patsy that I know of," Ron answered.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a term for the person that will take the fall," Hermione explained. "She's a friend of Cho's and she's in Ravenclaw. Her name is Mandy Brocklehurst. She's first cousin to Gregory Goyle."
"Then she can't be in Ravenclaw if she's related to him," Ron snorted. "Or maybe the muggle involved is super smart."
"Will she do it willingly or will we need to frame her?" Harry asked.
"I was going to sound her out a bit and see," Hermione answered.
"Goyle hates us," Ron added. "Especially since Crabb and Malfoy's dads got arrested. If he thinks we have anything to do with it he won't help."
"Then we have to be sneaky," Hermione agreed. "And we have to be sure he will try and defend his half-blooded cousin."
"We'll talk about it tomorrow night at the DA meeting."
Hermione looked at Harry with an uneasy expression. "It's getting harder, Harry. Should we continue the DA? I mean, what if something bad happens?"
"We will reiterate to people tonight that it is a choice," Harry told her. "People can back out if they want to."
. . .
Harry hadn't meant to forget his Occlumency exercises. He had found it harder and harder to do them before bed because he could hear Snape's voice giving him instruction as he did them, and that made his heart ache and his stomach wrench in guilt. When Lupin had had to leave at least it hadn't been Harry's fault, and he hadn't had to look at the man every time he had a potions class. And Harry wasn't exactly sure when he had begun to see Snape as a mentor like how he'd seen Lupin, but it had truly happened. And now it was over.
But in the night that night, in his unguarded mind, Harry was suddenly sucked into a nightmarish vision. He saw the same place he had seen before, the place where Arthur had gotten attacked. Then, suddenly, he saw Sirius Black screaming and writhing in pain, most likely under the cruciatus. He called out wordlessly, desperately, and Harry felt frozen in place and unable to help. And then the dream ended, causing Harry to bolt upright in his bed in fear. He had to save his Godfather.
