Disclaimer: If I were JK, do you really think I'd be writing fanfics instead of finishing Book 6? I don't think so. Any discernible plot and OC's (psst: coming soon-ish!) are courtesy of my twisted imagination, the rest is hers.

A:N/ I know there wasn't 5 reviews for the previous chappie, but I like this chapter and hope you all will tell me what you think. So please review, it makes it so much easier to write when I know what needs more work. How hard can it be, really? But if you're reading this, please do review. It may seem like a hassle, but as I said, every, and I mean every, bit of feedback helps.

Many kudos go to leiselmae, DogStar16 and my DraginLover (you are the best!) for your kind reviews. Believe me, leiselmae, I have plenty instore for what it will be like for Harry ;-) And truly anon, whoever you are, I can understand your point of view, but I had my reasons too. I was more surprised there wasn't actually anything about the chapter itself in your review... ;-)

Also, a huge round of applause for Green Giraffe for beta-ing me, though it sorta happened through a misunderstanding, didn't it chicken? Love your help, anyways. Thanks!! Well, I've got to go to bed or I won't be able to face uni tomorrow.... stupid field work. Read and Enjoy!!

Behind the Façade

By Ammarine

Chapter 5 – Settling In and Sorting Thoughts

It had been 24 hours. This time yesterday he was entering Snape's cottage and, since then, he had been bored out of his mind. As soon as Harry was inside, Snape had told Harry where his room was and instructed, no, that was too nice, ordered him not to go outside or answer the door. Did he honestly think was going to happen, the Postman of Doom was going to ambush Harry if he answered the door? Obviously. To Harry, Snape seemed more 'concerned' about Harry opening the door to the outside world than he did of Voldemort. But Snape had probably taken a couple too many Crucios to the head, so Harry wasn't going to concern himself too much. However, he still wasn't going to answer the door. Despite his musings on his host's mental health, disobeying him this early in his holiday was definitely not on Harry's To-Do List.

Precisely a half hour after he departed, Snape returned, with a number of containers in his arms. He put them down on the kitchen bench and opened 2 of them, before dumping one of them on the parchment laid in front of Harry, who was at the dining table writing letters.

"Dinner," Snape grunted rather ungraciously. "From Molly Weasley." Harry cleared the parchment from under his meal, and placed it all on the empty seat next to him. His dinner was a breast of roast chicken and a large pile of chips. The two men sat at the table in silence, eating rather quickly, so as not to spend anymore time in each other's presence as was strictly necessary.

After eating, Harry washed the used containers to give back to Mrs Weasley. As there wasn't anything else to do, Harry decided, rather begrudgingly, that he may as well start his homework now, and free up his summer. So, scooping up his sheafs of parchment, he retired to his room, seeing no sign of Snape in the rest of the cottage. As she was his Head-of-House, Harry chose to do Professor McGonagall's essay on 'Animated transfiguration and its constraints'. Flipping through his transfiguration book for information on living to nonliving transfigurations, he had no luck finding anything. On a whim, he left his room and started to look for Snape. Harry was pretty certain that he would have some books on transfiguration, but he thought it might be prudent to ask before taking Snape's books. Harry found Snape in the sitting room, reading a book and sipping a glass of Ogden's Firewhiskey in a large leather armchair in front of the fireplace.

"Erm, Professor?" Harry started rather cautiously. His reply was a raised eyebrow, as Snape continued to read. "I, um, I was wondering, would you have any transfiguration books that I could use for my essay?" Harry stood and waited for a reply, but none were forthcoming. He was about to turn and head back to his room, when as barely more than a whisper, came "On the bookcase near the window, second shelf from the bottom. The books you cannot read are warded against you so you will not be able to take them. Do not bother trying." Harry mumbled his thanks as he made his way over to the shelf Snape described. There he found a number of books about transfiguring, and Harry found he was able to take most of them. He mentally thanked Snape again before taking the books to his room to continue with his essay.

Since then, Harry spent most of the next day up until dinner in his room, except for meals. The past 24 hours had been spent occasionally working on his essay, but mostly lying on his bed, staring out the window at the vibrant blue sky, wishing he could go outside and breath in the fresh air. Sick of the view of his ceiling, Harry made a mental note to bring up the topic at the dinner table.

Tonight was Snape's turn to make dinner, which was sausages and salad, with a pitcher of pumpkin juice. Again, the meal was a quiet, rather tense affair, until Harry mentioned the weather. "It was a nice day outside, today, sir," Harry ventured.

"What is your point, Potter? Or am I doomed to spend my entire summer listening to your ramblings?" Snape sneered to Harry across the table.

"My point is, Professor, that I don't see why I can't go outside and enjoy the nice weather. I'm bloody well on holidays, I don't want to be kept inside like I'm in a cell!" Harry snarled back across the table "What's your problem with letting me go outside?"

"My problem, Mr Potter," said the Potions professor, his soft voice betraying the anger bubbling up inside of him, "is that I gave my word to the Headmaster that you would be kept safe during the summer and if that means keeping you sequestered indoors, then so be it. Outside in the garden, regardless of how many wards and disillusioning charms are cast, there is still the possibility of the Dark Lord, and others, determining your whereabouts. I doubt that is what you want to happen, is it, Potter?"

"No, sir. I didn't realise the garden wasn't covered by the same spells the cottage is," Harry conceded reluctantly after a brief silence, his eyes on his half-eaten dinner.

"Well, I would have thought you would have learnt not to assume such things, Potter," Snape replied offhandedly.

Harry couldn't find anything in reply to Snape's last comment, so the two finished their dinners in silence. As Harry was taking his things to the sink, Snape spoke. "Dumbledore has requested that I restart your Occlumency lessons, under strict conditions that each of us has our privacy respected." Here Snape shot a sharp glare at Harry, who tried not to let Snape get to him, but failed and glared back. "You will be in the sitting room in 20 minutes to begin your lesson. After your trip to the Ministry, I daresay that you don't want the Dark Lord putting thoughts in your head again" He then swept out of the dining room, robes billowing behind him, leaving a fuming Harry in the kitchen washing up.

It took all of Harry's self control not to go after Snape and try to break the plate in his hands over Snape's head, however tempting the idea was. Instead, up to his elbows in sudsy water, Harry tried vainly to clear his mind of emotion in readiness for his impromptu Occlumency lesson. In no time at all, Harry found himself entering the sitting room, to be greeted by the sight of a comfortable-looking Snape seated in the same chair as the previous night.

"I have a question, sir," Snape quirked an eyebrow, but remained silent. "How am I to defend myself if I can't use magic?"

"That is to be the primary aspect of your lessons, Potter, defending yourself against a Legilimens without your wand. It won't always be there to save you. Legilimens," Snape answered, his usual sneer on his face.

Harry reeled. He'd forgotten how quickly Snape preyed on him in these lessons and was caught unawares. In his mind, he saw flashes of memories, as Snape flicked through them as though his mind was a photo album. "Stop, stop" he moaned softly, as a particularly horrendous memory of Dudley chasing him with a broomstick replayed in his mind.

As quickly as that memory had appeared it was replaced by one of Harry, cowering in a corner of the Dursley's kitchen, with Uncle Vernon standing over him and bellowing, a wooden spoon waving wildly in his hand. Snape let that memory play for a little bit before moving on. The next one was of Harry, Ron and Hermione in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, brewing the Polyjuice Potion. Snape moved on fairly quickly, he already knew about the escapade. But the next memory of Harry's almost made Snape lose the connection.

He saw the Dream Team surrounded by Ministry members, including Barty Crouch Sr, who was holding Harry's wand and had his former house elf Winky crying at his feet. He'd found out about Crouch Jr's Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup nearly 2 years prior, but Snape never knew until tonight that Potter's wand had been used to cast it. Determined to find out more, Snape watched the memory until the Dream Team were being escorted back to the tents by Arthur Weasley.

Blinking and turning to face the hearth, which broke the legilimency connection, Snape spoke to a kneeling Harry.

"That was even more pitiful than your potion-making skills, Potter. And I'm not saying you're any good at Potions. It's no surprise the Dark Lord's plan worked out so well." Potter would have killed him, if looks could kill. But alas, they couldn't and Snape continued with a sneer, "I will give you one more chance to redeem yourself, however unlikely that will be."

This time Harry was slightly more prepared for Snape's assault on his mind, in that he knew it was coming. What he didn't know was how to stop it from happening in the first place. He watched part of the memory of Uncle Vernon turning his room at Privet Drive into his very own prison cell in his 2nd year. Snape must have found it rather boring, he moved onto the next memory fairly quickly. He soon found himself watching snippets of his night at the Ministry; the deserted foyer, whispering to Hermione to knock the prophecy shelves over, the prophecy of him and Voldemort being smashed and Sirius facing off against his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry knew what was coming. He'd seen the one scene play over and over in his dreams, he wasn't about to let play out to Snape.

"Stop it!" Harry cried in anguish, unable to break the connection with Snape. Somehow, he found himself watching another memory. But it wasn't one of his, it was one of Snape's.