Chapter Thirteen

Peter Pettigrew was in the room.

Harry shook the map, as if by doing so he would be able to shake the offending name from the parchment. For weeks, the name had been popping up, sometimes right where he was – and there definitely was no Peter Pettigrew beside him when it did – and it was driving Harry bonkers.

"Look, it's here again, see," Harry quickly pointed out the name to Ron and Malachi.

Ron glanced at the map; "Looks like you've got a stalker, Mate."

"Maybe it's a ghost?" Malachi suggested.

Harry shook his head, glancing around the library; "But they've got form, we can see them."

"A poltergeist?" Ron suggested.

"Or just a spirit. He's not doing any harm, is he? Maybe he's trapped," Malachi offered.

"Trapped in Hogwarts?" Harry frowned.

"I dunno. Maybe limbo?"

Ron's eyes widened, nodding as if impressed; "Another dimension."

"Whatever he is, he's leaving," Harry said, watching the name move across the map rapidly, seeming to pass through the library walls as he did.

"What's that, the third time this week?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, something like that. He's not always around me though. He hangs out in the dungeons a lot, too."

Ron and Malachi went on talking about ghosts, poltergeists and trapped spirits, as if it were incredibly exciting that the map had managed to pick up on it. Harry just carried on with his Transfiguration essay, the name popping up so much on the map recently that he was almost tired of all the speculation.

And, honestly, in his opinion it was a glitch rather than any actual being that was hanging around. A couple of times the name had come up in the dorm room, while he was there, alone, and there was definitely no one else around then.

Ron released an exasperated breath when the ink he had been trying to preserve for as long as possible finally ran out.

"I've got another one," Malachi offered; "In my bag, over there."

"Thanks," Ron said, pushing back and up off his chair to retrieve it.

Malachi leaned in closer to Harry while he was out of earshot; "How'd remedial potions go?"

"Alright, actually," Harry said, still surprised at how it had gone himself. Snape was almost…nice when he had gotten freaked out about the whole thing with Grace and for that, alone, Harry was eternally grateful; "Mind you, it's not like they could have gone any worse than I was expecting."

Malachi smiled, making to speak again, but silenced himself when he noticed Ron approaching with the jar of ink and a book in his hand.

"Hey, Mate, what's this?" Ron tossed a book onto the table.

Both of them glanced at the title.

The Ingenious Ideals of Gellert Grindelwald.

They shook their heads, no idea what Ron was on about.

"Well, it was in your bag," Ron stated, looking directly at Malachi.

"What? That's not mine."

"Who's Gellert Grindelwald?" Harry asked, bewildered at the accusatory look Ron was directing Malachi's way.

"He's, like, one of the worst Dark wizards of all time. After You-Know-Who. Maybe even worse," Ron stated.

Malachi shook his head; "I don't know why that was in there. It's not mine, really."

Ron just looked back at him, his scepticism blatant in his expression.

"It's not!"

"Hey, Malachi, it's probably someone else's from your House. Maybe you picked up the book by accident or something," Harry said, for it was the obvious explanation, but Ron really wasn't helping, the way he was glaring daggers at him.

"Right," Malachi nodded, eyeing it, "That's what it is."

"Yeah, sure, that must be it."

"Ron," Harry shot him a look.

Ron stood there, eyeing Malachi for a second, and then he put the jar of ink down on the table and gathered up his books; "Listen, Hermione said she'd help me out with this if I needed it, so I'm just gonna go back up to the common room."

"Ron –"

"I'll see you there? Unless you want to come now?"

Harry shot him a look, glancing back at Malachi, who wasn't taking notice of either of them and was frowning at the book that Ron had tossed down.

"Right. See you later, then, Harry."

Harry watched him go, irritated at Ron's behaviour but it wasn't anything new. He was always going on at Harry about hanging out with Malachi, a Slytherin, and he'd been, pretty much, desperate to get out of coming to the library tonight when he'd heard that Malachi was going to be there too.

What was new was this book.

Harry reached for it, opening it up and reading the first chapter title out loud; "The Wizarding Statute of Secrecy; and How it Stifles Wizarding Way of Life," he looked at Malachi; "Isn't this what your dad wrote about?"

Malachi nodded, slowly; "Yeah."

Harry shrugged; "It's just a book. Did you want to try and understand more about what he was saying? Now that he's told you he was a Death Eater?"

Malachi glanced around the room, sharply, as if it were a secret; "No. I told you, it's not mine. Really. I don't know how it got in there."

Harry turned the book over in his hands, looking for anything strange about it; "It's really old."

"Yeah, I know. I can see that."

Harry handed it over; "It's probably just one of your Housemates then. Maybe they put it in there on purpose."

"Why would they do that?"

"I dunno. But they wanted you to find out about your dad, didn't they?"

Malachi looked thoughtful, glancing down at the book.

"Give it to Snape."

"Yeah right," Malachi shot him a look.

Harry fought a grin.

"It's almost curfew," Malachi said, getting to his feet and gathering up his things; "I'll just see you tomorrow, maybe?"

"Yeah. Come sit with us at breakfast."

"Nah."

"Fine. I'll come sit with you."

Malachi met his eyes, hesitating for a second. Then he gave him a slight smile and nodded; "Yeah. See you in the morning, then."

"Don't forget the book."

Malachi eyed it, reluctantly.

"We can't leave it here, it's probably not even allowed in the school."

Malachi sighed, snatching it up and shoving it into his bag, and then with another nod he turned and headed from the room.

When it came to Lily Potter, self-control had never been Severus' strong suit.

Quite the opposite, actually.

But then, it had never been the intention that the two of them would be separated when he finally took leave of their home some weeks before.

Never.

It was safer, of course, that they remain apart as much as possible. Indeed, if Regulus had not coerced him into returning to the Foundation, they would have had very little opportunity to spend time together at all.

But, as it happened, he was back at the Foundation. And, so far, he had done a pretty good job of staying away.

Of course, it wasn't him who eventually gave in in the end.

They had lasted, oh, about three weeks before Lily had turned up in his office with some paperwork that needed signed – immediately, apparently – and it was all Severus could do not to go and take her in his arms there and then.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Potter," he said, when he quickly took notice who it was who had opened the door; "It's a pleasure to see you again."

Lily pulled the door shut behind her.

"Professor," she grinned, eyeing the place with a teasing look; "Is the office bugged?"

"No," Severus smirked; "Though I suppose if done well enough, I would be entirely unaware of the fact."

Lily laughed, rolling her eyes; "Here."

"Ah yes," Severus said as he took and fingered through the parchments she held out to him; "I can certainly see why these had to be brought to my immediate attention, lest we run out of quills and parchment anytime soon."

"Admit it, you're glad I'm here," Lily shot him a bright smile, taking a seat in the chair across the desk.

Severus couldn't help but smile in response, even as he glanced in the direction of the windows. He knew that no one could see in, the enchantments saw to that. But, the fact that he could see out and easily see the vast number of people that scattered the grounds made him uneasy, so with a flick of his wand the curtains were drawn and the room was suddenly darkened.

Lily raised an eyebrow, in playful suggestion, and Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to help the chuckle.

"And here was I under the impression that I would be the first to break."

Lily laughed; "Please. You knew it would be me."

"Hm."

"I have no self-control, as you so often tell me."

"Indeed. No truer words were even spoken."

He felt like a schoolboy. Almost giddy. As if the time apart had made this all new again.

Lily eyed him, her expression teasing; "Perhaps I should come over there."

"I think not."

"And why's that?"

"I am your boss. It would be inappropriate."

Lily laughed again; "Oh, is that how it is?"

"So it would seem."

They were both smiling, simply glad to be in one another's company once more, but the elation, the teasing, quickly gave way to reality and Severus lowered his eyes to his hand, tapping his index finger on the desk, before asking;

"How is she?"

"She's good," Lily said, immediately nodding, to give him reassurance; "You know Grace. Full of mischief. Dramatic to the end."

"Has she asked for me?"

Lily hesitated.

And then she nodded, her voice softening; "Yes. Of course, she has."

Severus knew that would be the case. Of course, she would have, just as Lily said. It was not unusual for him to be gone, no, but he always showed up eventually. It would take time, for Grace to realise that this time was different.

But then, he had disappeared for entire summers and Christmases, and she had never questioned whether or not her father would return.

She just knew.

"And Harry?"

Severus met Lily's eyes at the question.

He drew in a breath and nodded; "He is well. You know your son." He raised an eyebrow, lips twitching; "Full of mischief and dramatic to the end."

Lily gave a 'hmm' of laughter; "How are your lessons coming along? Have you started?"

"Yes. We began lessons the first week of term."

"And?"

"And, they have begun. It's a start."

They were, in actuality, going far better than Severus had expected. The boy, at least, seemed to be taking it seriously following his initial reservations and Severus was quite certain it had something to do with the way he had responded to the boy's pleading.

Both had changed their behaviour, somewhat, in the aftermath, as Severus couldn't help but be moved at the ardent protectiveness that Potter had for his younger sister; his daughter.

But Severus knew better than to say any of that to Lily, knowing well enough that she had far higher expectations of this than he did; indeed, he knew she considered it to be the answer to all their problems.

"What are you thinking?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"I am thinking you're still too excited about this. As such, I urge you, once again, not to get your hopes up."

Lily nodded, rolling her eyes even as she smiled; "Right."

Severus sighed. His heart felt as if it was going to burst from his chest, just at seeing that smile again. Her voice. Her laughter. Those eyes.

Longing very quickly drove away the tiny bit of resolve he'd clung to since she'd walked into his office.

What was the point in denying it, after all?

Severus flicked his wand in the direction of the door, listening with satisfaction at the resulting 'click' as it locked.

"Come here."

Lily didn't need to be told twice.

She was in his lap in seconds and his lips claimed hers, kissing her hungrily, as his hands first gripped and then trailed her sides. It was always this way, after a separation, neither of them quite used to them, even after all this time. But in this instance, it was entirely different, as Severus had feared that it could be months, nay indefinite, before he had the chance to put his hands upon her in this way again and every inch of his body was yearning for her, now, as she pressed against him in a way he was certain was meant to tease.

Lily moaned into his mouth.

It was a sound that always drove him crazy.

With a growl his lips left hers and went to her throat, his mouth open and his tongue keen to taste and explore as his hands moved upwards from her sides, to touch –

The adjourning door to his left burst open suddenly.

"Sever – ah!"

Lily and Severus sprung apart.

Regulus had averted his eyes and was already scrambling back into his own office by the time they realised who it was; "Sorry! Sorry!"

The interruption lasted all of two seconds but that was enough and Severus fully believed he would have been just as put out had Regulus burst into the room and thrown a bucket of ice water over them both.

Lily seemed less affected, giving a small giggle and caressing his cheek as she smiled down at him; "I suppose we're a little out of practice at this."

Severus only gave her a raised eyebrow and she leaned down, kissing him again, but it was sweet rather than passionate this time, indicating that the moment had been entirely ruined by the interruption, and when it was over she touched her forehead to his.

Severus trailed a hand up her arm, tucking her hair back from her face before speaking reluctantly; "You should return to the lab. Heart will wonder at your absence if it stretches too long."

Lily nodded, not pointing out that he had not been complaining about the length of her absence a moment ago, indeed he had just been about to see that it stretched much, much longer.

Instead, she kissed him again. Twice. And he savoured it, not rushing her, both of them taking their time because these moments were rare – at least, they should be, if they could muster up the resolve to make them so.

Severus had a feeling such meetings as these would very soon become their new 'normal'.

He shot a glance at Regulus' door after Lily left, gratitude that he had found reason to bring him back here only just overriding the very real desire he had to strangle him right now.

Okay.

So, maybe Snape wasn't the total wanker Harry had always thought he was.

Still, that didn't make these Occlumency lessons any less dreadful than he'd expected.

Harry hated it.

It wasn't just that Snape – or anyone, really – was able to get into his head and see all of his memories. As it was, any and all of them were up for grabs at the moment, as he was just hopeless at keeping Snape out, and the ones that kept coming forth were either dangerous, like all the conversations he'd been having with people about Grace, or just plain awful, like the sight of his Uncle Sirius lying dead at his feet.

Sure, Harry didn't want Snape seeing those things but, most of all, he didn't want to be seeing those things either.

It was bad enough with his nightmares.

This time, though, something else came forward while Harry fought to push all his recent memories away. It was a memory Harry didn't even know he had.

"Legillimens."

Someone was screaming. Everything was a blur, he was being spun around. He was being carried.

By his mum, he realised, as his vision cleared. He was a baby, being woken and grabbed from his cot.

"James!"

"Lily, take Harry and go!" A man's voice called from somewhere outside the room; "It's okay! It's okay, just go! Get Sirius!"

There was the manic laughter of a woman, the sound of glass smashing and furniture crashing and he was crying and his mum was crying, as she ran to the window –

Snape's office came back to him, abruptly, and he realised he was on his hands and knees on the floor.

Harry drew in a breath, trying to compose himself, before he raised his eyes to where Snape was stood over him, watching him, and he slowly got to his feet.

Snape's eyes never left him.

"You were very young in that memory, Potter."

Harry drew in a breath, that he released in a huff; "We don't talk about the memories, do we, Professor?"

It had never been a verbal agreement, rather an unspoken one, Snape never lingering on any for commentary, neither to reassure or embarrass him, no matter how amusing or appalling the visions brought forth were.

Snape nodded, turning his back and walking to his desk; "Take a few minutes."

He did that, though.

If Snape could see that Harry was affected by them, he'd leave him alone for a bit, and Harry was grateful because he was affected by that one that he'd just seen. The raw terror in his mum's voice as she'd called for his dad.

It was private.

It was private.

He suddenly felt very protective of his mum, realising that it wasn't only his memories that were being shared here, but anyone who just so happened to be in them with him.

And it only made him angry, then, that was being forced to share all of this with a man whom he wouldn't even discuss something as mundane as choosing his bedroom wallpaper with.

After a few minutes, Snape stood from his desk and approached.

"Shall we continue?"

Harry lifted a hand, shaking his head; "No."

"No?"

"This is pointless."

Snape's eyebrows lifted.

"Pointless, you say? In what respect? Do you fail to see the merit in learning to shield yourself from an attack? Or is it, simply, that you consider yourself above the methods of us, mere, mortals?"

"It's pointless because I'm never going to be able to do this."

"That's the spirit, Potter. We have been doing these lessons for only a month. What, exactly, are your expectations?"

"I don't expect anything. I just don't want to waste your time. Or mine. Any time that I've faced Voldemort –"

"Do not say the Dark Lord's name."

Harry hesitated, taking a mental note of the strange title Snape attributed towards the Dark Wizard but said nothing about it, wanting to make his point.

"- any time that I've faced him; it's not my head I've been worried about protecting from him. It's my whole damn body!"

"Language, Potter. That's five points."

"I don't see why I have to spend three hours a week here learning this when Vo – he could be back any day, and I have no idea how to defend myself."

Snape looked at him, carefully.

"You are aware that the Dark Lord is going to return?"

"Well, yeah."

"Where did you receive this information?"

"From my eyes! I just told you, I've faced him twice since the first time. I know he's not dead."

"Nor does he truly live. And, in preparation for when he does so once more, you wish to learn to defend yourself, physically, should he challenge you to a duel?"

Harry glowered at him, uncertain whether or not Snape was joking, despite the obvious sarcasm.

"He wants to kill me."

"I can't imagine why. What with all these successful attempts to thwart his return."

"No. He's wanted to kill me from the start."

Snape seemed thrown.

Hell, Harry was thrown by his admittance. He hadn't breathed a word of it to anyone other than Malachi, the shame of it was just too much. That his Uncle Sirius might have lived, if Harry had just stepped forward or, even, just run when Sirius had told him to, before telling Voldemort his name.

But, then, did he really care what Snape thought of him?

"'I'm not just being a brat, Professor. I know I'm not 'special'."

Snape merely regarded him, in that peculiar way he seemed to do. Harry noticed it mostly now that they had these lessons together but, thinking back, he'd always had a weird way of looking at him, ever since they'd met.

"I didn't do anything you know."

"You shall have to be more specific."

"The night he came for me. I didn't do anything. I just stood there and watched while he killed my Uncle Sirius."

"You were a seven-year-old child, Potter. No one would have expected any different."

"People act as if I'm some sort of hero. It's dragonshit."

"Another five."

Harry realised who it was he was talking to and turned away, shaking his head. He couldn't say any of this to his mum, to his Uncle Remus, but here he was spilling his guts, his darkest secret, to a Professor.

To Snape.

These occlumency lessons were seriously messing with his head.

Harry felt awkward, exposed in a way that even having Snape rifling through his memories hadn't evoked, and he wished he could just leave.

Snape's voice was soft, though, when he spoke again. That weird, calming, reassuring way that Harry had only had a glimpse at, when his demeanour turned, abruptly, in the first lesson, after his pleading for discretion regarding his sister.

"To survive the Dark Lord's attack, alone, is enough to grant recognition. Anyone who thinks differently is a fool. What could you have possibly done?"

Harry bowed his head, feeling the infuriating build up of tears in his eyes, as he remembered the helplessness of that night as Sirius had scrambled to shield him.

"Anything."

Snape drew in a breath and Harry met his eyes, seeing something there again, and this guy was just so hard to read. He didn't think he'd ever known anyone so…stoic.

"Your uncle died while protecting you. It was…admirable," Snape seemed to struggle over the word; "And I'm quite certain he would not have had it any other way. You lived."

It was strange. Harry actually felt comforted by him, by the words. Until this moment, Harry would have rather stuck pins in his eyes that breathe a word of this to anyone. Least of all Snape.

The spell was broken though, with Snape's stern following words.

"Do not insult his memory by throwing away that sacrifice."

"I'm not throwing it away! I have no idea how I'm supposed to stop Vold – him when he comes back for me. But I do know this occlumency thing isn't going to be any help. I may as well be taking extra Herbology lessons every week."

"Take out your wand, Potter."

"What?"

"Take out your wand," Snape emphasised each word carefully, before pointing at a spot in the middle of the room; "And stand there."

Harry did as he was told, wondering what lesson, what horrors Snape had in store for him now as he took his position, Snape taking his own directly in front of him, several feet away.

"You have been engaging in extra defensive classes as well as these, have you not?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. With Professor Lupin."

"I trust that he has taught you something far more exciting, something far more useful in your endeavours to protect yourself?"

Harry swallowed, quite certain he was standing on the edge of a trap; "Well, it's a patronus charm. To help me against the dementors."

"That is all? For four months? And yet you are impatient after only one month of lessons in occlumency?"

"There's been other spells…"

"Good. Cast them."

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me, Potter. Do your worst."

Snape hadn't even drawn his wand. He just stood there, entirely relaxed, facing him with his arms crossed and his hands resting lazily on his forearms.

The Professor raised an eyebrow when Harry made no move to strike.

"Whenever you're ready, Potter."

"Are you serious, Sir? You want me to attack you?"

Snape's lip curled, then, and Harry could see amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I want you to try."

Harry didn't miss the challenge in the Potion Professor's voice and he hoped, prayed, begged the deities, that he would, at least, be able to get Snape with a stinging hex or something. To prove himself, of course, not because he desperately wanted to wipe that infuriating smirk of the man's face that was now being directed his way.

"Stupe-!"

Snape flicked his wand, lazily, drawn instantly from nowhere, easily deflecting his spell.

"Expel–"

Again.

"Impe –"

Again.

"Petrifi –"

Again.

"Blocked," Snape said, silkily; "Again and again and again. Until you learn to keep your mouth shut and your mind closed, Mr Potter."

Harry lowered his wand, realising what it was that Snape was trying to tell him. That it didn't matter how many defensive spells he knew if Voldemort could just look inside his head and know exactly what was coming.

"I thought you said legilliemency wasn't the same as reading minds?"

"Indeed. But your motives are so transparent, that you are as easy to read as the most basic textbook."

Harry's shoulders dropped.

"What's the point of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classes at all then?"

"Because legilliemency is entirely rare, both it and occlumency are an obscure branch of magic that is not often practiced. For that reason, defensive and, indeed, aggressive, spells are usually all that are needed against an opponent who means to do you harm. However, as you have pointed out, your opponent is someone quite specific. The Dark Lord himself. Who just so happens to be one of the most skilled legillimens in the Wizarding World."

"Oh. Lucky me."

Snape ignored the remarked. Or let it slide.

"At the very least, these lessons will encourage you to learn some self-control. Patience. Discipline. All of which are qualities you are going to need, should your suspicions that the Dark Lord is going to come after you are true."

Harry scoffed, shaking his head; "If he comes after me, I'm dead."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, Potter."

Harry met Snape's eyes, sharply.

There it was again. That look. The very same one that dared him to doubt it, that the professor meant it, and this was all so very weird. It was as if Snape actually cared which made no sense after all these years of cold indifference.

But then, Dumbledore had put him on this.

And Harry knew the man was just so damn serious when it came to potions and, judging by his collection of books on occlumency that were so numerous they could fill a library, he supposed he must be the same in any subject that took his interest.

"Now." Snape went on, smoothly, as if the previous words had never been spoken; "Close your mind."

Harry sighed.

But he did as he asked. Knowing that he had been bested, in more ways than one, at the end of the conversation.

He nodded when he'd done it, attempted it, drawing upon as much resistance as he could.

"Legillimens."

And the lesson resumed once more.