A/N and Warning: Wow. The muse lives. I wasn't planning on this whole "relive the rape" scene until much later, but the muse was quite insistent. Again, I refuse to be graphic, and so does it, I think. I also think it wants a name. I will call it Brasidas. I bet that'll wind it up real good. Anyway, consider this your -Mature Themes- warning.

Ever read Life, the Universe and Everything by Douglas Adams? The trick to flying, apparently, is to fall and miss the ground.

Part 3

He had never had a panic attack before, Harry reflected once he'd stopped struggling for breath. It was a new experience, to be sure, and not one he wanted to repeat. To that end, he tried very hard not to think about Snape and Occlumency, but it was vain effort at best. After two more episodes that left even Hedwig rather disconcerted, Harry resorted to wrapping himself in his bedsheets again.

Huddled in a corner of his room and feeling increasingly warm despite the night air, Harry was finally able to calm down enough to consider things rationally. The problem was that Snape, in his "efforts" to teach Harry Occlumency, would pry into the young wizard's mind and discover exactly the thing Harry wished to keep most secret, and Harry would have no defense. The solution, of course, was to develop a defense, but Harry had no idea how to do this.

Hermione might, he thought reflexively, then realized that he was probably right. Hermione, if she did not hold all the answers, at least knew where they could be found. Harry would have to ask her to send him some books on Occlumency.

He nearly groaned at the prospect of writing another letter, but it was a letter day again anyway, and he had to thank everyone for his presents. He might as well send the "everything's-lovely" letter to Hermione and take care of as much in one shot as he could.

It was growing light outside by the time Harry finished his writing session. As much as he wanted to go to bed, however, he knew he'd only wake up screaming and set the whole house in an uproar; Remus' silencing charm, at Dumbledore's 'suggestion,' was only active during the night. Both the maid and the gardener were coming today, and Harry had no desire to attract their attention, much less his aunt or uncle's. After sending Hedwig out the window with her burden, he glanced around his room. Dudley still insisted on using it to store his broken or unwanted possessions, and this included a large variety of books. Harry rooted around until he found one of his cousin's numerous yet unloved history books, and spent a good part of the day hiding in Ancient Greece.

- - - -

That night brought the summer's first Voldemort-induced dream. Harry had barely drifted off before finding himself in the park where Bellatrix had caught him. It was empty, as it had been that day, everyone at work or on some exciting vacation. Harry was helpless as he felt himself propelled along the same path he'd walked then; he watched the copse of trees he'd been ambushed from grow closer, unable to stop or even turn his head.

'Wasn't it fun, Potter?' the Dark Lord's cold voice hissed in his head as Bellatrix and two other Death Eaters sprung out of the trees and fell upon him. Harry tried to struggle, as he had that day, but found he could not. Then the familiar floating feeling of Imperius overtook him, and no matter how he fought, he could not shake it. Powerless as a puppet, he felt himself pulling off his trousers even as Bellatrix undid her robes. The two men at his back laughed as his godfather's killer grabbed his chin and pulled him close.

Harry threw all his effort into freeing himself from the Imperius curse, but as the nightmare continued, he realized it wasn't Imperius holding him at all, but the Dark Lord's mind. Not only that, but things had progressed far beyond what had actually happened; the young wizard was horrified to find that it was Voldemort above him now instead of Bellatrix, and the twisted not-man inflicted a different and more degrading kind of pain. Harry managed to close his eyes and tried to separate himself from it, picturing everything from a Quidditch game to his most powerful Patronus. He focused on Dumbledore's image, then that of his friends, Remus, his parents, Sirius...

He woke with a harsh cry, scuttling backward until his back hit the wall, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gulps. An echo of Voldemort's laugh rang in his head. He reached for the lamp blindly, knocking it on its side before he managed to turn it on. When the light revealed his shabby bedroom, he could only hug his knees to himself and sob.

- - -