Severus toyed with his wand, balancing it on one of his long fingers as he waited for Sabine to arrive. She wasn't late, he was merely early, and could not be sure whether or not he appreciated the time to think.

Occlumency lessons with Potter had been... An experience I should not like to repeat. His inner voice said delicately. Breaking into the boy's mind had carried with it a morbid sense of satisfaction, until he got to that first memory, the flash of green light... Severus suddenly felt sick, remembering how the Potters' deaths had looked through the eyes of their infant son, and his left arm tensed. He was none too fond of James Potter or his son, but in truth, no one deserved that. Except, maybe me.

And when the insolent Potter had dared to break into his memories... He suppressed a shudder and the angry snarl that built inside his chest, yearning to get out and throttle the nearest living thing into senseless oblivion. It had been some time since he had been that angry.

What would it be like with Sabine? Fractionally more comfortable, though he did not like the idea of breaking into her locked vaults any more than he liked the idea of her seeing into his. If she proved to possess any talent, which he knew well she likely would... He blinked, and suddenly felt very cold. A sudden heat replaced the chill, however, and he flushed slightly, hoping against hope that she would prove less talented at Legillimency than he was at Occlumency. If only there was a feasible way to teach one subject without the other... There was no way he was ever going to live down the image of those dreams, if ever they were discovered.

He checked his pocketwatch, returning his wand to its proper place. Now she was late, but only by a moment, and he was unconcerned. Probably held up by some curious student or mischievous poltergeist.

Occlumency lessons were tonight, weren't they?

The thought didn't occur to Sabine until a good five minutes after the set starting date for said lessons, when she jumped up from her chair and threw her books to the ground in disgust at herself.

"Damn me and my lack of punctuality!" she muttered as she threw her robes on haphazardly over her sweater and skirts, rushing out of her door and leaving the gorgon-nymph to replace itself.

Puffing quietly as she fled down the spiral steps, down the hallway and then down more steps to the dungeon, Sabine paused only for a moment to catch her breath and pull two fourth-years from a badly locked broom closet before continuing on her run.

"I'm sorry!" she announced wildly as she finally burst into Severus' office. "I didn'tmeantobelateI was just caught up in… something." This was shortly followed by a deep breath and an apologetic glance. Sabine had never been strong enough to run that distance at that speed without some repercussions, and her age didn't help matters. So, although her lips remained tightly closed as she attempted to keep herself upright, her chest heaved in protest.

It altogether was not particularly attractive, but at least comical.

Severus raised a brow, caught between amusement, surprise and some other, random emotion that he could not quite place. "You did not have to rush." He commented finally, with the barest of smirks. "Though with any other student, there would be repercussions, so perhaps I should give you detention."

Shut up! He hissed at himself. Shut up, shut up, shut up... Stop that!

He stood and waved a hand, inviting her in, as it were, though she was in fact already in. "You may shut the door." He said quietly, in an amused tone, and he withdrew a book from his shelves, opening it to a specific page with his long fingers and handing it over to her.

"You will find that this is a very comprehensive and condensed, but adequate, description of the theory behind Occlumency. When you have finished reading, we may begin."

"Oh, yes, I did. Tardiness is something I don't tolerate in my students; it's shameful for me to practice it myself."

"...Perhaps I should give you detention."

"Um." Sabine blinked. Detention? From Severus? Her mind raced. She scolded herself. Then she shut the door.

Having the upper hand in her inner battle for the time being, Sabine came forward to accept the parchment eagerly. That done, she sat on the arm of her usual chair and crossed her ankles, tucking the strands of freshly loosened hair (from her rush) behind her ear to better see the page. Rotten hairpins.

Severus smirked slightly, oddly pleased with himself at her response to his comment. You are going to get burned. He sighed inwardly, and resolved for the thousandth time to stop playing with fire.

His dark eyes followed her hand as it brushed the fallen locks back into their proper place, and then he directed his gaze elsewhere very sternly, a slight frown crossing his features as he rose and took out his wand, leaning against the mantle to wait.

It only took Sabine a minute or two- she skipped over several paragraphs which essentially showed her what she already knew. "There's a good deal more here than in some of the books I've read," she stated finally, resisting the urge to examine the index of the book before she closed it carefully and went to the shelf to replace it. Whilst there, however, her fingers skimmed over the spines of the books next to it, and she peered at the titles- most of the volumes were old, and some were positively ancient. There were a few written in Latin which she knew did not have English counterparts.

The horrible man. It had never occurred to him that she might like to examine these tomes herself! Why would it? She argued with herself. He barely likes you. What would possess him to let you run your grubby fingers over the pages in his personal library? It was an excellent point. Sabine sighed, and tore her eyes away from the shelf to regard Snape. He must be growing very impatient by now.

"Shall we begin?"

Severus watched her examination of his shelves, bemused, and slowly an emotion that he knew was not his own surfaced in his mind.

The woman was lusting after his books, he thought with a slight smirk.

"My library intrigues you." He said. It was not a question. "It is at your disposal, whenever you wish. Be warned, however, that any damage to those volumes will be met with equal violence toward your person. I shall have to punish you most severely."

Shut the hell up. Just shut the bloody hell up.

"Yes, we shall." He commented, finally answering her question, and his demeanor changed slightly, shifting into "Professor" mode. "Difficult as this may be for so full a mind, attempt to empty it." He said, deliberately keeping his voice even. Teaching Occlumency properly involved something of the hypnotic, for even a sharp tone of voice or sudden gesture can bring the mind to alertness once again.

"You must allow no cohesive thoughts to drift across that emptiness, remain blank. If you are struggling, then focus on something entirely mundane, only that, and ignore everything else."

Her pale cheeks burned at the accusation, but she was mollified entirely by the words that followed it. Sabine had every intention of thanking him, and had opened her mouth to do it when she was silenced by the warning. If anything, it made the blush brighter.

It was best to stay quiet, she thought, and listen to the instructions carefully. Clearing her mind seemed simple enough, and so she dropped her arms and closed her eyes, attempting to force any thoughts from her mind. It was exceedingly difficult.

The fact that her mind first reverted to penguins bothered her, which in turn caused more thoughts to break through the barrier and flood her mind again. She reattempted, and failed again.

It was rather like waking up in the midst of night with a muscle spasm in one's leg. It was easy enough to 'relax' the pain away, but any slight movement or tension at all could cause the entire limb to tighten again into excruciating agony. Mundane, he had said.

I...am a vegetable.

What kind of vegetable?

STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.

Finally, after what seemed to Sabine quite an infuriating amount of time, she was able to achieve blissful mental silence.

Severus watched the bare signs of her internal struggle flicker across Sabine's face, mildly curious. After several minutes, during which he remained completely silent and still - the better to assist her - he raised his wand slightly and probed gently at her mind.

And received, in reward for his efforts... A mental picture of an eggplant.

His snort of laughter broke the silence and her concentration, he knew, but he could not hold it in.

Irritation!

Both hazel eyes flew open and Sabine glowered at her teacher. Just as she had managed to attain her goal, as well. Wretched man. "You're not helping," she announced in dismay. "Now, shut up for a moment so I can get this right."

Again she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. It took less time on the second turn, but it was still a significant length before she could settle into the intellectual void once more.

Severus gave her closed eyes an apologetic look, and resumed his watching. She was getting better, he noted. It took her less time to come up with the eggplant.

Raising his wand a little more, he probed deeper, the tendrils of his thought still gentle, insidious... Suddenly the eggplant gave way to more conscious thought, and he resisted the compulsion to back out. It would do her more harm than good.

With a final push, he forced away the fog that blocked him from a recent memory - less damaging then an old one, he usually found - and observed. Though the voices were muted, a rather flustered-looking Sabine looked up sharply from her book at a student with a dancing teacup atop his head; then, looking dismayed and irritated at the student, removed the cup from his head and sent him back to his seat.

Severus called his own thoughts back and looked at Sabine as he opened his eyes. "Did you have an altercation with a student today?"

Sabine found herself faced with a memory that still plagued her from that morning. Again she blushed, though with stale embarrassment this time. Anyway, he wasn't supposed to see that.

You're not welcome there, go away...

However, when one is experiencing an attack on their mind, it's difficult to think of a psychological alternative to pushing the attacker away. Unprepared, Sabine watched the memory play helplessly until Severus was kind enough to withdraw. "In fact I did," she replied curtly. She wasn't going to say anything more, but curiosity begged her to ask: "Ah...did you see only what I did?"

Severus nodded. "But I could have seen more, if I wanted to." His words carried a tone of warning. "You wanted me out. I felt that. You have the willpower, Sabine, what you lack is the technique."

He straightened, his posture suddenly not so lax as an expression of concentration took its place. "I am going to try again, and this time I shall not be so gentle. When you feel the foreign presence in your mind, envision something that can block it - a wall, a secure safe, anything that can keep your thoughts private. This is a beginner's tactic... in time, you shall learn to keep your thoughts blank. You must - if the Dark Lord were to enter your mind and be met with an eggplant or a locked door, His suspicions would be, needless to say, roused."

Concentrating as his pupil closed her eyes, he sent searching thoughts into her mind and probed about, searching for something, anything, that she did not want him to see. It would have to be a memory of that sort - the only kind she would have an incentive to block.

As she closed her eyes, Sabine etched his advice into her memory.

Fortunately (or unfortunately?), Sabine had few terrible memories to choose from, and her mind was arranged in such an abstract way that to sift through them was much like rummaging through a used book cart at a library sale. There really was no rhyme or reason.

Most prominent and vivid were the memories she felt strongly about: her celebrating Tarla's election as Magical Representative, the debutante ball that she attended the summer after the coming-of-age of one of her cousins' daughters, all the way back to her own coming of age. It was a while before the arrival of a memory mortifying enough to merit defense.

During the 1970's at Regalus, it was common practice on a girls' sweet sixteenth birthday for her less affectionate dorm mates to effectively attack her, strip her down to her nightgown, brutally shave of the middle part of her left eyebrow and toss her ceremoniously into the koi pond in the school's courtyard. So, in New York's freezing November air, Severus had every opportunity to witness that charming tradition as performed upon Sabine- had she not been very determined to stop him.

In her panic, she was unable to effectively conjure up a suitable imagine to stop him, and opted for what she felt was the next best thing: with some effort (more taxing than it seemed at first, in fact) she managed to replace to offending recollection with much less harmful image of a young Libby Night putting a small frog in her dinner soup as a prank, and the chaos that ensued.

Severus blinked, his concentration almost broken by this new turn of events. She had... substituted a memory. He hadn't told her to do that... It could be done, certainly, but was a trick most often practiced by an advanced Occlumens; to make the guarded mind seem more realistic. Sabine had skipped ahead through roughly three lessons.

He would never tell her, of course, but it quite impressed him.

He was not put off, however. Focusing his efforts on the replaced memory, he brushed aside the decoy and pressed further into her thoughts, searching for the memory that she had hidden from him. It was oddly satisfying, using his talent against a mind that was actually strong enough to resist.

Eyes still closed, Sabine's breathing had deepened from the exertion of defending her mind. Nimble as it was, it was not quite quick enough to escape the much more skilled of the two, and to be completely frank, the woman was growing tired.

In all fairness, she put up quite a struggle- she quickly discovered that the more she liked or disliked a memory, the easier it was to use that image to distract Severus as he searched her mind. If she had been stronger, she could have presented him with quite the display of her favorite moments, usually recent ones, as again they were less draining.

She wasn't as strong as she would like to think, however, and the longer she tried to 'trick' Snape away from the memory she was guarding, the more exhausted she felt. Her motivation soon enough began to dwindle, the mental pictures showing less vividly and fading much more quickly.

Severus was momentarily distracted from his goal, following the memories she tossed in his path to their ultimately fruitless end. He could feel that she was tiring, and the brief flicker of sympathy died under his determination to do the job and do it properly. He aimed his concentration on the - she would have him believe - blankness behind all those decoy memories, and murmured the spell.

"Legillimens!"

Had Sabine thought she had the energy, she would have been supremely annoyed.

Again the 'Sweet Sixteenth' ritual, among a small flurry of other betraying memories, were pulled to the front of her mind. It was war: Sabine's distressed yet determined mind against Severus', which was equally sharp and blatantly much more skilled. He didn't seem to require any energy for this at all, and that threatened her. Another rather strong emotion allowed still more unwelcome memories to float to the surface.

Go away... back... This only began a chain of rather random proclamations to the negative as Sabine attempted feebly to clear her mind. At most, she managed to force back the memories that she was most desperate to hide, but she wasn't terribly effective despite her resolve.

So deep was his consciousness inside her mind, Severus actually heard her words: Go away... back...

No. He replied, rather brutally, and increased the speed of his search. Her distractions were irritating, and despite the fact that he knew it was what she was supposed to be doing, he resented the difficulty she was presenting. He employed a great deal of effort in forcing aside all her shrouds and bared that first memory for both to see, enhancing it to add insult to injury. It was as clear as if he had been standing there.

Amusing. He commented, and withdrew his thoughts.

"You put up quite a struggle." He commented lazily, pocketing his wand and examining her. "Would you like to call it an evening, or..." He paused, "Try it in reverse?"

Splash.

Sabine blanched. I really do hate Elsebette Taylor; she thought when she had been freed of the mental grasp, naming the girl in charge of removing part of her eyebrow. Now she was an equally pretty woman and happily married, living on one of New York's famous Avenues, Sabine supposed.

Then she opened her eyes, and immediately had to grasp the desk she stood beside. She had been so lost in her memories, and the sudden reality that was inflicted upon her made her feel as though the decently sized office was suffocatingly small when immediately compared to the mental plane. It was also horridly decorated. What were those things pickling behind Snape's head?

He's talking to you.

What?

"In reverse?" Sabine repeated, eyes snapping back to Severus. "You mean, as in..." She was apprehensive; perhaps she shouldn't pry into the man's memories if she didn't half to.

Splash.

"I would love to."

Oh, shit.

The tone in her voice was pure predator, and despite his years of experience, Severus received the distinct feeling of foreboding that accompanied that tone. He was going to pay for his persistence.

"Alright." He said resignedly. "You've heard me use the incantation, I believe?" At her nod, he continued. "Instead of retreating into your mind; this time, send your mind outward - toward mine. Search for what is hidden."

He readied his own thoughts, throwing up the cold stone wall that hid his most private memories, and tossed a decoy memory - their first evening, incidentally, with the discourse on tea - in front of it for good measure.

Sabine made eye contact, removing her wand from her robe pocket and raising it warily. Suddenly she was struck with a hint of uncertainty, and she cleared her throat twice before finally getting out with the incantation:

"Legillimens."

It didn't work. Sabine sighed, took a deep breath, and relaxed. It was more difficult than a materialistic spell, certainly, but if she could just focus well enough...

"Legillimens."

Success. Sabine was able to view (with all too much satisfaction) a flicker of Snape's decoy memory. It faded all too quickly for her liking, though, not giving her the chance to search elsewhere. Mostly undaunted, she considered a third attempt.

Severus raised his brows slightly at Sabine's early success. Granted, she made no headway, but the mere fact that she had succeeded in only her second attempt to enter his mind was... impressive.

He guarded his walls once more as she prepared to try again.

Sabine made several more fruitless tries at the man's mind, although on the last two she was able to remain there for a markedly longer time than the first. It still wasn't enough to show Sabine any more than she already knew.

"Should I try a different approach?" she asked finally, feeling very much like a mildly retarded schoolchild.

Severus felt morbid satisfaction at throwing the woman out or his head, but knew that if he was to teach her properly, as was his responsibility, he would have to instruct her on how better to invade his mind.

"When an army attacks a fortress, does it march up to the gate, waving flags and banners?" He asked, and then answered his own question. "No. The drawbridge would be shut, the gates locked, and the attack would fail. Your mind is not strong enough to withstand a siege; you have not yet had enough practice... But mine is, at least from your efforts." The barest of smug sneers crossed his features. "Returning to the army... Failing to enter through a frontal attack, it is likely that a smaller, more delicate force would be sent around to a less-guarded entrance. Make your way through this tactic. Search carefully, use your cunning... Instead of aiming straight for the heart of what you seek - you are not yet skilled enough for that - employ delicacy. Move through the less important thoughts to bring your subject's guard down before heading for the memories hidden deepest."

His tone was even and commanding, every bit the professor who knew his subject well.

The woman narrowed her eyes slightly at the sneer, and set her jaw as she listened to the rest of the speech.

She had to admit that he made it sound painfully obvious, and she scolded herself (for what seemed like the umpteenth time) for not coming to that conclusion sooner. "One more for the evening, then?" she suggested, stepping back from the man and closing her eyes briefly before raising her wand again.

"Legillimens," she murmured, meeting his gaze swiftly.

So it came to pass that Sabine found herself at the head of their mutual memory again, and she was pleased to discover that it did not fade on her this time. It was surprisingly simple to move that memory out of her path, rather like pushing aside a heavy paperweight or some other mild obstacle.

The real challenge, then, was the stark stone wall, which had posed her a challenge once before. Now, however, she had a new tactic to use in facing it.

...She was a swift learner.

Severus tossed another memory into her path, an inconsequential piece of classroom drivel, and backed up a step on the mental plane, trying to keep his guard on the wall... It was difficult. He had a lot to hide.

Suddenly, he felt a tendril of foreign thought probing at a weak space in his boundaries, the area that blocked his dreams. Snarling, he clamped down on it, slamming a locked door into its place.

Not for you. His inner voice insisted randomly. As if she didn't already know that.

For a moment, Sabine was certain she had a bite... but Severus seemed very determined to keep those particular concepts from her. She expected this sort of guard, and yet she was surprised when he bothered to specifically warn her away from them.

Why not?

Ah, her very weakness. Those two words would definitely give her intentions away (if Severus had not already guessed them), but there was no time to worry about that. She didn't know how long she could hold the spell, and Severus' volunteered vulnerability would only stretch so far. Instead she searched for, and found, another small rift in the plane, and with some luck would quickly find herself accessing a few of her teacher's least significant memories.

Frankly, anything was good enough for her.

Why not?

So many reasons... Severus noticed her battering at a rift that had occurred in his absence, and launched his consciousness toward it, but was a half-second too late. She doubtless had seen the flash of memory as clearly as he had...

The image of a tall man holding out a belt and pointing at a woman, a leer of sadistic pleasure and encouragement on his face. The man was not Severus. But for a few mismatched features, it could have been.

Get out. He growled, and pushed her away.

Gladly.

In her surprise at having found such an unexpected picture, Sabine broke the enchantment- she was not unhappy when she faded back into reality this time. Originally she was going to apologize, but upon discovering that she was temporarily incapable of sound settled for closing her mouth and waiting for her throat to stop moving as though she were speaking.

He had said that his father wasn't a kind man. Sabine didn't want to believe that the flash she had received had anything to do with Severus- but for such a reasonable woman not to believe such a thing was a hope that could be dismissed as idiocy.

Severus glared at her, his breathing slightly labored and his already pale features white and drawn. Shaking his head, he looked away and passed a hand over his face in an absent, agitated gesture.

He'd never intended for her to get that deep.

"Well done." He said finally, and his tone was taut. "Shall we have an end, then?"

"Yes," Sabine agreed finally, when her lips had stopped twitching in an attempt to form incoherent words. "I think we shall."

She took a deep breath and stepped forward, extending her hand. "Thank you, Severus. I look forward to our next lesson." Perhaps not the most tactful of farewells, but at least polite.

Severus nodded and waved her away, his tall frame stiff and cold. He inclined his head in mechanical courtesy, refusing to meet her eyes. "Yes... Good night."

He was very tired.

"Good night."

She dropped her hand with only a minor flash of indignity, and removed herself swiftly from the room, letting the door shut behind her. It had been a very trying night, and she must think of a way to make up for it.

On top of everything else, she realized, she had forgotten to bring back his goddamn coffee cup.