The next week was spent training in the mornings and reading every book they could find pertaining to Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoons. Not that he was going to say it aloud, but Snape was somewhat proud of Harry—the man knew as much DADA as Snape had when he had obtained his Mastery.
They were spending a rare evening apart. Snape was in his room, brewing an Invigoration Draught. He did not know what Harry was doing.
The fact that he did know what Harry was doing bothered him. And the fact that he was bothered by this bothered him even more. He stirred the contents of his cauldron with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary.
He looked at the blank expanse of wall above his worktable. If this were a normal house, one built on the ground rather than in it, he imagined there would probably be a window here. He imagined the window would overlook a small garden, containing all manner of rare potion ingredients, surrounded by an uneven fence. He imagined there would be a birdhouse and a pixiehouse perched precariously side by side atop the fence. He imagined there would be gaudy curtains framing the window, and that he might at some point laughingly compare them to Albus' robes.
And that was when he realized he had closed his eyes, because they flew open when he inadvertently let his hand brush against the boiling hot cauldron. He felt panic rise in his chest for a brief moment, but the damage was minimal, and he healed the wound easily.
Then Harry threw the door open.
"What happened?" he demanded.
"Nothing, I scalded my hand. It was quite mild—"
"No, I know that. Why weren't you paying attention? It was almost like you were—were you daydreaming?" Harry asked and a smirk began to form.
Snape narrowed his eyes. "Why don't you explain to me exactly why you came running in here?"
Harry took a deep breath. "Well, you see, I was in the sitting room reading. Okay, I wasn't really reading. I was holding a book in my lap being bored. And then I felt sort of panicky, and it went away really fast, but I felt like I should check on you. But then the idea that you might need my help made me feel like an idiot, so I didn't. I just sat there wishing I could see you and know you were okay without making a fool of myself. And then it happened—I could see you! Through the wall! Two walls, actually."
Snape stared at him. He almost wanted to ask him to repeat himself, but he did not think it would make any more sense the second time around.
Harry's face lit up. "Bloody hell, I have X-Ray Vision! I'm like Superman!"
"Pardon?" Snape said. What in Merlin's name was an 'ecksray'?
Harry began laughing uncontrollably.
"Get a hold of yourself. What's so bloody funny!" Snape demanded.
After a few gasps, Harry was able to speak. "Well, it's just, you see, I get my superheroes mixed up…and I was thinking 'If I'm superman, then that makes you Robin' and believe me, you as Robin is hysterical. But then I realized Robin goes with Batman, not Superman."
Snape blinked. Had Harry finally cracked? "I fail to see why you would associate me with a songbird, nor why the thought should induce such a fit." He really had no idea what was going on here. What were all of these…"Batman?" he asked, incredulous.
Harry was laughing again. Snape forced a dose of Calming Draught down his throat. It had very little effect. After the second, Harry began to settle down.
"Nevermind, muggle stuff. The point is, I saw you through the wall—both of them. I just focused on you, and there you were."
Ah, there, that made much more sense.
Actually, no it didn't.
"You saw this room? From the sitting room?"
"Well, no. I couldn't see the whole room, just you. And the cauldron."
"Focus on the sofa in the sitting room—try to see it," Snape instructed.
Harry closed his eyes. He wore a look of concentration for about a minute, and looked up. "Nope, nothing."
So Harry could see Snape through walls, but not couches? "Go in the other room, Harry."
Harry was about to question him, so Snape gave him his Professor Glare, and he left. Snape closed his eyes and concentrated on Harry. He thought about how much he loved looking at Harry, how much he wanted to be looking at him right now.
And then he saw him. Harry was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, looking impatient.
It startled him so much that Snape opened his eyes and could only see his room.
Harry came back in. "What happened? What surprised you?" he asked, concerned.
How did he know? Had Harry sensed Snape looking at him? "Nothing happened. I looked for you, and I saw you."
"Uh-huh," Harry said skeptically, "and that scared you?"
"What? Of course it didn't scare me. I was merely startled," Snape explained emphatically. Wait… "How did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That I was…startled."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I felt it, you great git. Well, I didn't so much feel it as sense it, you know? It's been happening since…you know, since my birthday. I know you've felt it, too," Harry cocked his head to the side, "Haven't you?"
All the little things Snape had been pushing out of his mind began to come back to him. "I…" did not know what was happening? was too frightened of the possibility to consider it? instinctually suppress any emotion I experience, whether it is my own or not? "I suppose so."
They stood in silence for a few minutes before Harry spoke.
"I wonder if you can do it on purpose."
"To what are you referring?"
"Feel something," Harry commanded.
Snape did not generally appreciate being commanded. "I beg your pardon?"
"Feel something. I want to know if we can direct emotions at each other on purpose."
That, surprisingly, was a good question. "Oh," Snape said. And, bugger it, now he had to feel something. On purpose.
He closed his eyes and fished around in his mind. Figuring this would probably be easiest if he chose to feel something he was already feeling, just stronger, he set about attempting to identify the various emotions currently drifting through his mind. As he was most certainly not a man given to examining his feelings, most of it was fairly foreign to him. He did manage to pinpoint confusion (obviously) and irritation (quite a bit of it) and hopelessness (just a touch) and lust (at a time like this!) and…what was that? Oh, interesting.
"Excitement. You're really excited about something. Am I right?"
Snape opened his eyes. That was fast. Then again, Harry was much better at this whole emotional thing. "Indeed you are."
Harry grinned. "Cool."
The next morning, they practiced controlling what they sent to one another via their…link. Or whatever it was. But the more they used the link, the more they felt each other's emotions accidentally.
It was exhausting. Snape tried to filter things using occlumency, but it simply was not working. Apparently this type of link was wholly different from legilimency. He was glad that at least he was not mixing Harry's feeling up with his own. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was something when he 'felt' Harry's emotions that told him with certainty to whom they belonged. And he got an inexplicable thrill every time.
It was small consolation. He did not like it when he himself felt emotions, and now Harry was feeling them as well. The worst thing was that he did not know what all of them were.
"We have to find a way to limit this!" he snapped.
"Why? I think it's awesome."
"Because I cannot have you knowing what I'm feeling when I don't bloody well know myself!" He cringed inwardly. It was not supposed to come out like that—yes, he was definitely exhausted.
Harry grinned, then tried to be serious. "I know you're not a hundred percent comfortable with this. It's not like I know everything you're thinking and feeling, you know. But you're right, we need to practice withholding things as well."
Snape glared at him.
"And now you're annoyed with me. It's not my fault if I hit the nail on the head," Harry said, and sent a quite pointed ball of warm affection through their frustrating little link, and Snape's irritation dissipated.
"It has been a taxing day. Come lie down with me."
Harry gave him a heated look.
"For a nap," Snape clarified.
"Oh, fine," Harry conceded with a smile, and followed him down the hall. They lay down on top of the blanket, tangled their limbs quite thoroughly, and fell asleep.
