It was Friday, the last day of the term before Christmas, and the Great Hall at breakfast was even noisier than usual.
Harry took his place by Ron and Hermione as the post arrived. Hedwig fluttered down but she had no messages for him. He gave her a bit of toast and bacon rind. Sensing the mood he was in, she nipped his thumb affectionately before taking off to the owlery. Harry watched her until she was out of sight, before listening to the conversation going on between his friend.
"Snape'll set us somethin' really hard, jus' to make us work," said Seamus, nose wrinkled. Neville sighed miserably into his porridge. Snape wasn't goading Neville as much as he used to because his primary target seemed to be Harry, but Neville was still petrified of the Potions Master all the same - and Harry wasn't feeling any especially good thoughts about Snape either. Double Potions on a Friday morning had that effect on most people.
Harry supposed it was possible he was depressed. He mused this on his way down to the dungeons. He didn't see the beauty in the mundane world any more, he wanted to fly out to where nobody would know him, where his scar meant nothing, where he could live his life out as he wanted to.
A group of first-year Ravenclaws oggled at him on their way past. Harry supposed the most irritating thing about them was not the fact that they appeared, to him, to be three feet tall with pointy hats and fishing rods, but rather that they could put at least four vowels in the sound 'oh'. Had he ever been that small and irritating?
"That's Harry Potter, that is."
"Noeua!"
"- yeah, check out the scar, you knouewa –"
Harry gritted his teeth as he strode past them, blocking his ears to the tirade of mutters and whispers.
"-ah, Potty, the Mudblood and the Weasel..." Malfoy swaggered up to the trio, and grinned. Harry couldn't bite back a reply.
"Nice to see you got your ears fixed, Malfoy. I head you got beaten by a second-year Gryffindor. Losing your touch?" Malfoy's sneer slid off his face like Stinksap as he pulled out his wand, aiming it at Harry's throat.
"All I want is one reason, Potter," he snarled. Harry just let a fake- feeling grin twitch the corners of his lips as he focused his gaze over Malfoy's shoulder.
Contrary to popular opinion, Harry held no animosity toward Malfoy‚ at least not any more. He regarded Draco as deluded and in need of serious help, and only kept the banter up so appearances would do the same. Still, it was a bit ironic, to say the least...
Professor McGonagall tapped Malfoy on the shoulder.
"Young man, you have just lost twenty-five points from Slytherin and have earned three night's worth of detentions."
Malfoy, looking positively livid, slid his wand back into his robes and shot a death glare at Harry. Professor McGonagall turned to address the class.
"Professor Snape cannot take this class today, so I will be instead."
There was an almost visible sigh of relief from the Gryffindors. Professor McGonagall turned to Harry. "Potter, Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you in his office immediately. The password is 'Sugar Quills'." Harry nodded, feeling slightly confused and a little apprehensive. Nodding to his friends, he headed toward Dumbledore's office.
lllllllll
When Harry stepped into Dumbledore's office his first impression was of it had always been: warm, gentle orange light filtering in softly though the long windows; the air warm and quiet with an old, pleasant smell; the portraits of snoozing witches and wizards still littered the wall; and Fawkes was stood on his perch by Dumbledore's desk. The air spoke of quietness and serenity. The circular room seemed spacious and pleasant to be in, and Harry felt himself relax. Then he noticed the other visitor, and he tensed.Dumbledore was sat serenely behind his desk, but standing in front of it, chair thrown a little way back as thought he had stood up very quickly, was Snape. He was breathing heavily and his face had an ugly flush.
"Headmaster," he said in a deathly whisper, "I have never questioned your judgement before -"
"Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore, blue eyes twinkling at him from over the tops of his half-moon glasses. Snape whirled to face him, and the ugly look on his face deepened. Harry was sure that the only thing preventing Snape from throttling him on the spot was Dumbledore's presence.
"Harry, Severus, sit please."
Harry took a chair, and Snape reluctantly did the same. Harry focused his gaze on the soft white flakes falling from the sky and longed to be out there.
"Harry," said Dumbledore gently. Harry faced him, and he got the impression that Dumbledore was speaking to him as though he wasn't entirely stable. Damn right, he found himself thinking distractedly.
"Harry, Professor Snape and I have been discussing -"
Snape gave a snort.
"-discussing your presence here over the Christmas holidays, and I think it will provide a little time for you to continue Ligilimency."
All of Harry's conscious thought actually shut down completely at this point. Raw emotion surged in its place.
"Excuse - excuse me, Professor Dumbledore?" Harry's voice sounded disbelieving and distant, even to his own ears.
"You will be continuing Occlumency over the holidays."
Harry returned his blank stare out of the window.
"Oh," he said after a minute of thought. He believed that if he said anything else he would explode in a maelstrom of red and black fury.
The anger he had kept so successfully inside him was threatening to overrule him. His green eyes sparked dangerously as he balled his fist to stop them from shaking.
As many had noticed over the course of the school year, Harry's temper had been almost non-existent. This was only because Harry reckoned he was in a perpetual state of shock. This gave him a little more control over his temper, but when he lost this his fury was as pure and unadulterated as Hell unleashed. The emotion was threatening to engulf him but he forced his eyes up to Dumbledore's, whilst repeating the mantra It's important. It has to be. You owe Dumbledore a lot.
Harry closed his eyes in a partially successful attempt to quell the rage.
"Headmaster, I have never questioned your judgement before, but I don't believe this is necessary. The boy has no aptitude for learning, he wears his heart on his sleeve like so many Gryffindors, he can't control his emotions- "
"Nevertheless, Severus, it may prove useful in the battles ahead."
Harry heard Snape sit back in his seat with a creak and a sigh of defeat.
"Very well, Headmaster."
There was another creak as Snape stood up, but before he could go the Headmaster rose as well. "Severus, one more thing. Because there will only be myself, Minerva, Poppy, Hagrid, you and Harry staying in the castle over the holidays it will be necessary for Harry to stay in your quarters."
Ohgod.
The nightmares.
Snape stared at Harry in what could have been surprise. Dumbledore flicked his wand, and the windows repaired themselves.
Harry tried to slow his breathing, but the anger pumped through him. The vitriol powering him now was crying for release in the form of some physical attack, but Harry bit it back.
"Harry?" asked Dumbledore quietly, and Harry realised with some vague amusement that his chair was on the other side of the office. When he stood he must have thrown it some way back, just before the windows burst.
Harry managed to shake his head with some difficulty. He felt that if he said anything he might just have leapt for someone's throat.
"I'm sorry Harry, there is no other way."
Harry stood a deep breath and tried to stop from shaking. "Why can't I stay in my dormitory, sir?" he managed to say. Dumbledore gave him a slow stare.
"We can compromise. How about, you spend a week with Professor Snape, and then Professor Snape stay a week with you? We'll sort out the last week when we get to it."
"Do I have a choice? Sir?"
The anger was abating, he could feel it now, and a numb sense of despair was replacing it. He could feel it washing around his bones. The rage was furious but short-lived, but only because he didn't have enough energy to sustain it for longer.
"Accio chair," he muttered dully. He sat down on the chair he had called and put his face in his hands. He couldn't use the silencio charm at night because, knowing Snape, he'd probably bust in at three in the morning for a surprise Occlumency lesson. How could he explain his silenced voice?
He'd better start thinking.
He risked a glance at Snape who was facing the door. His hands were clenching and unclenching. Dumbledore allowed himself a sigh.
"I need you two to be able to work together," he said softly. "You're both important in the upcoming war. If the both of you cannot co- operate..."
Harry stood and walked uneasily to the window. The ledge was hot from the sunlight reflected off of the snow. Snape hadn't said a word.
"Harry- "
"Yeah. All right."
"Harry, it's natural to feel angry."
And, like a rash, the rage was back. And twice as strong. Fists shaking, Harry said, "You know nothing about anger. Nothing."
He heard Snape snort, and he could almost picture him rolling his eyes. Harry bent his head as he felt slightly ashamed. He was right. He did wear his heart on his sleeve, he let his anger get the better of him, he let his own depression rule his mind.
A hand settled itself on his shoulder, and he looked to his left to see the weathered fingers of his headmaster.
"Harry?" prompted the much older man gently.
"When do I move in?"
"Tomorrow."