Phœnix Burning, Chapter 14

AN:Underlined words are Snape's memories.

"Again! What did I just tell you?!"

Harry huffed a frustrated sigh, to tired to try to control his temper. It was half-past midnight, and any shock they might have felt had long since transformed into more volatile emotions. "I'm trying, Professor!" He retorted. "It's just not working!"

Snape's frustrated anger nearly boiled over in Harry's mind. Damn it! Why does the bloody brat make it his life's work to get on my nerves! I swear even James never made me this mad! "I thought, for a short amount of time, that you actually showed some potential." Snape growled aloud. "It seems I was mistaken."

"And I thought, for a short amount of time, that you could try to be nice! I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh, because you're the occlumency expert?" Snape's sneer was only slightly less malicious than normal, and that could have been because he was so tired.

"No, because this is a mind link, in case you don't recall!" Harry burst out finally. "I don't think it works the same! I can't seal you out because you're already in, so you'll never be able to test me!"

"I suppose you have a better idea?" Subdued curiosity trickled through the link, although Snape's tone did not change, and his frustration did not seem to abate.

"No, I'm just sick of trying this over and over and over and over and getting nowhere!" Harry slammed down the cup of hot chocolate he'd been drinking so hard it cracked. (Snape had sent the house elves for snacks some time ago, but they had long since been ignored.)

"Well I'm not explaining to Albus when he starts asking questions!" Snape told him, spit flying in his anger. "You've got to figure it out!"

"Can we just take a bloody break?"

"Do whatever you want." Snape's fingers curved around his wand. "Do whatever the Hell you want, Potter."

Harry was silent for a long time, trying to contain himself. And then he suddenly knew what they were missing. "If we're mind linked, can't you just go in and fix my brain so I can do occlumency? Anything is better than this."

"Don't be an idiot, Potter. How would that work?" Snape's voice sounded disgusted, but his mind lit up with intrigue. What if he's onto something there? Maybe...

"Give me one reason why it couldn't."

Snape was silent, thoughts churning.

"I thought so. So let's try it. I want to go to bed sometime soon."

"You're not the only one," Snape muttered. "Fine. I'll try not to fry your brain."

"Reassuring."

"You were the one who wanted to try it," Snape retorted. He frowned, mind now intent on the problem. Hmm. Do I guide him through the process in his own mind, or would it be easier just to go in and put up the shields myself? The first would be slower, but the second one would likely be more traumatic. Not that trauma seems to faze him, but if he got hurt...he mustn't be hurt.

"So you do care," said Harry, too tired to self censor.

"Shut your mouth." Snape reached for a scrap of parchment and started trying to work it out on paper, like an arithmancy equation. "Do you want the quick way or the painless way?"

"Gee, I get a choice?"

Snape glared at him. "The quick way, then." And before Harry could say a word, or even think, Snape reached into his mind.

It was not at all a pleasant sensation, although it didn't hurt, either. He felt as though someone were rummaging through his brain, reorganizing it, and a strange, serene quality began to pervade his thoughts, as his darkest and most secret memories were packed up tightly and pushed to the corners of his mind. Harry gasped as Snape withdrew, eyes wide and unfocused. "Wait, is that what it's supposed to feel like?"

Snape closed his eyes. "Yes. Now be quiet, some of us have to chaperone tomorrow."

"It's the Hogsmeade weekend?"

Snape opened one eye to glare at him. "Yes."

"And there's absolutely no chance I can get Mcgonagall to let me go?"

"You're an animagus and you have that bloody map. I'm sure you can figure something out. And watch out for Death Eaters. I didn't hear the full plan, but the Dark Lord has something in mind."

Harry grinned, his jubilation only slightly tempered by the thought of the Death Eaters.

"And I never said anything of the sort," Snape continued. "Now go to sleep."

A long silence. And then: "Professor?"

Snape's slow, easy breathing hitched. What does he want now? His mind groused. It better be good. Maybe if I just pretend to still be asleep...

Not gonna work, Professor, Harry thought back. "I was wondering...just one more thing...did Dumbledore tell you about the prophecy?"

The effect was electrifying. Snape jolted fully awake, emotions spinning out of control, self hatred and grief and fury all melding together into a curdling deluge, flashes of images running through their minds.

Dumbledore, sitting on a stool in a shabby private room in the Hog's Head, with Trelawny sitting on the bed, her eyes blank as she began to speak, voice rough and taut with magic.

An old man, with silvered auburn hair and hard blue eyes, gripping Snape by the arm and dragging him away. "Your kind is not welcome here."

Snape, kneeling before a man with dark hair and red-tinged eyes, panting out: "My Lord, I have news."

Snape, expostulating with a gorgeous red-haired woman. "Lils, you don't understand. He thinks it means you, you and your baby. I don't care what James Bloody Potter thinks, you've got to take Harry and get out of the country! He'll kill you, can't you understand!"

Voldemort, younger and still human-looking, breaking out into a deep laugh from his great throne-like chair. "Of course you may have your reward, Severus. After the child is dead, you may take your pleasure with the mudblood."

Snape shivering in the rain, eyes glazed with fear, on his knees before the stern figure of the Headmaster. "Anything," he breathed, head bent in abject submission, greater even than he showed to the Dark Lord. "I'll do anything."

Snape clinging to a pale and limp figure, his entire body shaking. "Lily. I tried. I tried so hard."

Dumbledore, looking down unsympathetically down at the young Potions Master, head in his hands as he wept. "He has her eyes."

"Don't!" Snape burst out like a wounded animal, voice inhuman in his despair. "She's gone! Dead! I wish I were dead!"

Snape, on his knees in an unfarmiliar room, the Dark Lord, now his disfigured, resurrected self, leaning over him and pouring a whole bottle of veritaserum down his throat. "Where do your loyalties lie?"

Harry jerked out of Snape's thoughts through pure force of will, breathless. What. The. Hell.

Snape was blinking away a suspicious moisture, self hatred and breathless grief mingling with his anger at Harry's intrusion. "I expect you saw all of that," he said at last, voice rough.

"I'm sorry!" Harry was still trembling. "I didn't think-"

"You don't often." Snape returned harshly. "I- get out."

"I'm sorry!"

"Get out." Snape said again.

And then Harry snapped. "It was my bloody mum who died!" He spat. "Don't you think I deserved to know the truth? That you sent her to her death?"

Snape stared at him, and the air chilled ten degrees in as many seconds. "You little-" he paused, suddenly, mouth still open, and then closed it abruptly, defeat ebbing from him in slow, murky, despairing waves. And a silent tear slid down the Dungeon Bat's cheek.