Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, make no money from anything, and am writing this purely for personal enjoyment.

AU. The story starts at the beginning of Harry's seventh year, but ignores the events of HBP. No parings, Snape mentors Harry. OC's, but they will not be the focus of the story.

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It was mid-October when Stefan first stopped past for a visit. Harry had to be called out of the practice room to greet him. Despite wanting to talk to Stefan, he was strangely hesitant about having another person in their private space after all this time.

"Childling," Stefan smiled at Harry.

"Elder," said Harry softly, nervous.

"What can we do for you, Elder?" asked Snape.

"I was wondering if I might be permitted to visit with my bloodling from time to time. Under any conditions you deem suitable, of course."

Snape stiffened and Harry held his breath. He was forgot to breath quite frequently now in stressful situations, and Snape usually reprimanded him for it. This time, however, Snape had other things on his mind. At last, Snape nodded.

"Very well. I trust you to maintain appropriate contact. Harry is free for ten minutes now, if that's convenient."

"Thank you, Magister Snape, it is very much appreciated."

"I'll be in my lab if you need me."

Stefan called a chair to him, and sat down facing Harry. Harry shifted. He still wasn't allowed to use to furniture in this room, but he wasn't expected to stand for the entire visit, was he? Eventually he compromised, and after a nod from Stefan, arranged himself cross-legged on the floor.

"How are you adapting?"

"Smoothly enough, I think. I'm not losing control of my Wizarding side anymore, and my Strigoi side is developing as expected."

"So you're well then?"

"Well... no. I mean physically, I'm okay, but I'm not really coping very well with the other stuff."

"Oh?"

"My friends aren't speaking to me because I'm keeping too many secrets from them, and Sn.. Magister Snape won't let me approach them or anyone else because he thinks it's better that I don't have any friends, and he won't even teach me how..."

"It is better," interrupted Stefan. "Magister Snape himself is still too young to safely maintain friendships with the living. You are utterly incapable of it."

Harry swayed back at the force of Stefan's presence. His back and neck prickled with this reminder of the older vampire's power.

"Yes, Elder," he whispered

"And was that a complaint about your teacher's methods?"

"I'm sorry, Elder."

"I'm not the one you should be apologising to."

Stefan's voice softened, and he reverted to the relaxed person he had been at the beginning of their visit. "Have a little faith in your Magister's judgement, Harry. He is a good teacher."

Harry's face must have given away what he thought about that statement, but he kept his peace. He didn't want to go though another lecture. This was the first time he had seen Stefan since he started Hogwarts, and he wasn't prepared to risk driving away the only person he could talk to about his life. The conversation turned surprisingly easy to lighter matters - Stefan was an attentive listener and an amusing conversationalist. Within an eye-blink, the ten minutes had passed. Snape walked back in after a brief knock on the door, and Harry rose to his feet.

"Childing?" prompted Stefan.

Harry was confused for a second before remembering the apology he was supposed to give. Harry felt queasy – this really wasn't going to go well. He hadn't expected Stefan to go through with it, and there was no where to back out now.

"I beg your pardon, Magister. I complained about your teaching to Elder Stefan. It was wrong and immature of me, and I apologise for speaking of you disrespectfully."

Harry felt his throat tense and Snape pulled himself to his full height.

"We will discuss it later, Harry. Elder Stefan, can I interest you in anything?"

"No, thank you, I'd best be on my way. I wouldn't like to stress my protections to much and bring that fearsome Headmaster of yours down on us. I'll visit again as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Elder."

"Stay well, Magister Snape, Harry."

Harry muttered his goodbyes as his only potential saviour left the room, leaving him alone with an enraged Snape.

"What did you say to Elder Stefan?"

"I wasn't complaining about you being unfair or anything. I was just upset about my friends, and feeling frustrated that I haven't been learning the soul draining stuff," justified Harry swiftly.

"And what did he reply?"

"That I should trust your judgement, Magister."

Snape's lips twitched, and Harry stared at him in surprise. Well. That was an unexpected way to escape the man's bad mood. After almost a token lecture, Harry was shuffled off to seek his bed.

By the next lesson, Harry had decided to take everyone's advice.

"Magister?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there any other approach to learning this?"

Snape turned and looked at him. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I feel I've reached a block with this method. My expectation of failure has become a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy, I think," said Harry. He wasn't at all sure how Snape would react to his question, and didn't want to risk sounding as though he was accusing Snape of being a bad teacher.

"Well... yes, I suppose you might do well to use one of the more emotive methods for a while. Lie down."

Harry made himself comfortable, relieved. That hadn't gone badly at all. In fact, he'd go as far as to say that went very well.

"Now forget about trying to remain objective. Instead, I want you to recall a time when you were very cold. Remember how it made you feel, what it did to your body and to your mind. Remember what you noticed first, and what bothered you the most. Re-experience that now. Recall the circumstances if you have to, but don't concentrate on them. Don't just think of coldness, be cold."

Harry obeyed the instructions easily. Unlike the previous exercises, these were quite fun. It didn't take long for Snape to switch to more complex and less enjoyable exercises, but not before Harry had mastered the ability to assume a state of mind at will. It should be more than enough to confuse wandless legilimency, so it was with trepidation and not terror that Harry responded to a summons from Dumbledore.

"Harry, my boy, sit down, sit down."

Harry accepted the tea and refused the sweets, as he did every time he visited the man. He briefly wondered if the ritual was supposed to be soothing or intimidating, but it served the admirable purpose of giving him something to look at. Avoiding the Headmaster's eyes would help in concealing any suspicious behaviour, and was well in keeping with the persona the Headmaster expected him to be. Fawkes was missing, which was also a relief. He was never entirely sure just how sentient that bird was.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you in today."

Harry made a noncommittal noise at this inanity.

"It is simply that of late we've been a little concerned about you, Harry."

"Concerned?" Harry brought some of his irritation to the surface, and faked some puzzlement. He concealed his bubbling apprehension. Who was 'we' exactly, and concerned about what? Was it anything that could give him or Snape away? Would he be able to get through this without screwing up?

"Your friends have been in to see me."

Harry tried to figure out what exactly they could have said and what reaction would divert Dumbledore from the dangerous questions. Should he try and pre-empt any of it, or would that risk giving Dumbledore information that he didn't have yet? He pasted on a neutral face, but brought some anger to just below the surface where it would be easily visible to Dumbledore. No matter how harmless their report, it would be expected that he would dislike the interference.

"Headmaster, just because Ron, Hermione and I are currently fighting, that doesn't mean that I have something wrong with me. These things happen," and you never cared before, finished Harry deliberately.

There. It's just a schoolyard quarrel. Nothing to see here. Concentrate on the hurt feelings and the abandonment issues instead.

"Of course, my dear boy. I am just a little worried that you seem to be becoming a little isolated."

How would you possibly know?

His occlumency was not meant to be of a very high standard, so he gave the Headmaster plenty to read. The angry young man persona everyone had come to expect from him came in very useful in this regard – nice and simple to indulge in.

On cue, Dumbledore looked troubled.

"Harry, all of us do honestly care for your well-being."

Harry decided he had taken this as far as was useful, and that it was time to try a different tack. It would be dangerous to use too heavy a hand – he couldn't let the Headmaster realise he was faking it. It was time to use a more genuine reaction. He brought some fear to the surface, and crumpled in on himself, cradling his tea-cup in both hands.

"Yes, Headmaster. There's nothing wrong, really. It's just… it's just Voldemort. I can feel it won't be long now." And I'm scared.

"Your friends can help you with that, Harry."

"Honestly, Headmaster? No, they can't. They don't really understand, and, well… Hermione and Ron still deserve the time to be children."

"Oh, Harry. You still deserve time to be child, too."

"I might deserve it, but I'm not going to get it."

"I wish we could have found away to let you play quidditch this year."

"That's alright, Headmaster. I suggested it if you remember."

"I know. But I'm concerned that you seem to be punishing yourself. Take the time to relax and play."

"When this is over," Harry said with genuine resignation, "when this is all over."

Dumbledore didn't protest any further. After another round of tea and sweets, he continued the original interrogation.

"So how have you been spending your time?"

"Practising and researching, mostly. Looking for ways to defeat Voldemort. The Room of Requirement is very useful."

"I notice you've been spending time with Professor Snape."

"Yes," answered Harry. No need to panic; it was inevitable that Dumbledore would have noticed that much. "He has a lot to teach me."

"How are the two of you getting along?"

Harry shrugged. "Compared to Voldemort, our differences are minor." Misleading, but true.

Dumbledore looked proud of him, and the fear uncoiled from Harry's spine as the headmaster uttered a few more platitudes. Harry was still playing the 'pity me' card, but he was hard pressed to conceal his glee. He'd managed everything he wanted out of this little 'chat', and he thanked whoever was listening that Dumbledore either didn't know about his cramps or had discounted it. He had won this round. He wondered suddenly why he had ever felt overwhelmed by this man. Dumbledore played the game very well, but at the end of the day that was what he was doing – playing a game, not showing emotion. And Harry was starting to feel more confident about his own technique.

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