"Now," Severus said quietly, turning to face the boy fully. His hands were shaking a little. "Stand up, Potter, and take out your wand so we can begin."

The boy got up silently, looking faintly ill as he shuffling into the middle of the kitchen. His chest rose and fell a tad too quickly, and his knuckles were straining white against his wand. Severus couldn't quite resist a sneer.

"You may use your wand to attempt to disarm me, or defend yourself in any other way you can think of," he said softly.

"And what are you going to do?" the boy muttered, uneasy gaze fixed on his wand.

"I am about to attempt to break into your mind," he replied, sizing him up. Potter had always been talented at daydreaming during class; clearing his mind of all thought and knowledge should be a simple task. After all…he did it on a regular basis. Severus had seen his vapid expression far too many times. "We are going to see how well you resist. I have been told that you have already shown aptitude at resisting the Imperius Curse…You will find that similar powers are needed for this…Brace yourself, now… Legilimens! "

And the world around them fell away.

—

"Look, Diddykins! Isn't it lovely?"

"Atta boy, Dudley, looking just—"

"—Ripper! Ripper, stop! Stop! St—"

—A great black dragon, rearing up—

—A man and a woman waving out of a mirror and mum? dad?—

Stop, he thought fiercely, screwing his eyes up to try and stop the images, but they wouldn't stop, they wouldn't—wouldn't— Stop, that's—

"—PRIVATE!"

He was gasping for air on Snape's dingy kitchen floor, tears blurring his vision, hair in his face. His wand clattered on the linoleum and rolled to a stop at Snape's shoes. Harry looked up at the man, who had lowered his wand and was rubbing at his wrist. He could see a searing welt there, like Snape had pressed his arm to a hot burner and let it sizzle away at his skin.

"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" asked Snape coolly, as though he were making a casual observation.

"No," he said bitterly, dragging himself to his feet. There was a headache starting low in the back of his neck.

"I thought not. You let me get in too far. You lost control."

He swallowed hard past the dryness of his throat. "Did you see everything I saw?"

"Flashes of it." There was a condescending smirk on his professor's face; Harry forced himself to look away before his anger could get the best of him. "To whom did the dog belong?"

"My Aunt Marge." The anger was building into all-encompassing hatred, pumping steadily through him like a slow-acting poison. Sweat dripped down his back.

"Well, for a first attempt that was not as poor as it might have been," Snape said, raising his wand again. "You managed to stop me eventually, though you wasted time and energy shouting. You must remain focused. Repel me with your brain and you will not need to resort to your wand."

"I'm trying," he snapped, angrily swiping at the sweat on his face, "but you're not telling me how!"

"Manners, Potter. Now, I want you to close your eyes…"

The second round came sooner than he'd have liked. The Sorting Hat, telling him he would do well in Slytherin, until it vanished in a sickening pull and—Hermione, the hospital wing, and her face was coated in fur—Dementors, hundreds of them, on the lake, closing in and—Cedric Diggory blank eyes blank face blank and—

"NOOOOOO!"

The world rushed back in so suddenly, Harry couldn't even feel himself fall. His hands shook against his face. Every inch of him felt weak, achy, like he'd been beaten by ten Bludgers and then crushed by the Whomping Willow. A splinter of agony had opened in his brain; Harry dug his fingers into the side of his head and sucked in air like he was drowning.

"Get up!" Snape snarled at him. "Get up! You are not trying , you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!"

Harry got to his feet with difficulty. Cedric's face flickered in front of his own as he blinked. Snape always had an unhealthy pallor, but it seemed more intense than usual, and he seemed ready to commit those murders he'd talked about back at the grocery store.

"I—am—making—an—effort," he gritted out.

"I told you to empty yourself of emotion!"

"Yeah?" He laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. "Well, I'm finding that hard at the moment!"

Snape was pacing now, positively spitting in his fury, like a cat that had been poked and prodded one too many times. "Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord," he said savagely. "Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily—weak people, in other words—they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!"

"I am not weak," he said lowly, and his voice refused to raise. This was beyond anger, beyond hatred, beyond—

"Then prove it! Master yourself! Control your anger, discipline your mind! We shall try again! Get ready, now! Legilimens! "

Uncle Vernon was hammering the letter box shut, eyes glinting with a manic sort of glee See, if they can't deliver them they'll just give up! and—Petrified Colin, Petrified Hermione—Aunt Petunia opening a smoking letter with a look of utmost terror

"That

—expelled from Hogwarts, never to go back—

awful

—a green-faced Dudley—

Snape

—Uncle Vernon's astonished face—

boy"

—and Snape withdrew sharply enough to send pain bursting behind his eyes. Breathing hard, Harry realized he'd dropped to his knees again; a dull ache radiated through his legs, pulsing in time with his head and racing heartbeat. Sweat had completely saturated his shirt. His skin felt clammy. Snape, he realized with a sensation of deep foreboding, had not yet made a sound. The kitchen was quiet; Harry's sharp inhalations were the only sound puncturing the sudden hush.

"What was that?" Snape said suddenly, in such a quiet voice, Harry nearly missed it.

"What?" he gasped out, swiping perspiration away from his stinging eyes.

"The last memory." The words were short and clipped.

"I-I don't—"

"Your aunt! What did she say, Potter?" Snape stormed towards him and yanked him to his unsteady feet by the back of his collar. "What—did—she— say? "

Harry went cold. Did I…show him… "I—She…'that awful boy,' I think?" he tried feebly. It was the wrong response; Snape appeared beyond words, lips curling back in a wordless snarl to expose his yellow, crowded teeth. He leaned back as far as the limited space could allow and hastily shifted his gaze to the floor, instead of those cold black eyes. "I dunno, I was a little…preoccupied…"

"That is not what she said!"

Were you friends with my mum?

"Get out of my sight!" Snape ordered, pointing wildly out the entranceway. "To bed! Now! "

Harry took his chance and fled.

—

Severus went out the back door into the cramped garden, where he promptly descended into rage-fueled hysterics. His chest heaved like he'd run five miles and his fingernails bit deep into his skin as he buried his face in his hands. "What was that," he hissed under his breath, shaking his head, "what was that, what the fuck was that —"

He kicked ineffectively at the brick wall, trying to vent some of his fury. What had Tuney said—and oh, but she looked just the same as she had as a child, with that same sour look and those watery, envious eyes—but what had she said? 'That awful boy?' No, it was—'That awful Snape boy.' Had she said that to Potter? Had she said that to the boy?

Hazy memories of the blessings his mother would sometimes murmur during times of strife swam upwards through his memories, but he cut himself off before the first of the words could touch his lips. Suppressing a scream, he slid back against the wall before his legs could finally give out, dragging his knees towards his chest to smother himself against them. Severus didn't move for some time. Then, after he finally found himself capable of thinking about it without having a full-blown meltdown, he lifted his head with a great gasp of air and rubbed at his sore eyes.

'That awful Snape boy.' That was what Petunia had said. Had there been any other details, or was it just that one slip? Had the boy even properly noticed it? Or had the words simply bounced off of him? The memory would suggest otherwise, but sometimes Legilimency could be slightly deceiving. The boy had seemed more focused on the details of his surroundings in almost all of memories.

And…And that dog. What about the dog? Chasing Potter around as he climbed a tree to hide away from a clearly enraged animal, while his family, from the extremely brief glimpse he'd snatched of him, had sat laughing.

It doesn't matter, Severus thought angrily, shaking his head hard. That awful Snape boy. Jesus fucking …

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all.

—

The next morning was spent in mutual silence and isolation.

Neither spoke to each other, and as far as Severus was aware, the boy hadn't had breakfast. He himself had locked himself in his bedroom to smoke the rest of his cigarettes and wallow in self-loathing. A pile of smoked-out stubs lay next to him where he'd sprawled out across the ancient floorboards in lieu of attempting to make his bed behave. The floor would be better on his back in the long run.

'That awful Snape boy' was a constant echo in his head, beating against the sides of his brain in an effort to stir up the migraine from last night. It had taken a full flask of Calming Draught for him to relax enough to sleep. And here you are, you stupid cunt, he thought furiously. Now the boy is going to think you have something to hide.

He took another drag of his cigarette. His bedroom was smoggy and nearly suffocating in the heat; hopefully lung cancer or heat stroke would take him before the Dark Lord could. Severus's stomach growled. He ignored it.

The boy was moving round downstairs. Suspicious, Severus pushed his way over to the old vent next to the radiator and pressed his ear to it. He'd used this to spy on his parents for years before their moving on. There were no words to help him decipher what Potter was up to, but he could make out the sounds of the house clearly enough. The fridge was opening…the toaster springing up…

Nothing of interest.

Wasn't Lupin supposed to visit today? Severus remembered suddenly, rolling somewhat painfully to his feet and Vanishing the cigarette stubs. Around noon? When it was already past eleven? Shit.

Severus dressed and headed down the stairs without a second thought, striding into the kitchen like nothing out of the usual had happened the night before. Potter jumped a little at the sight of him. "Do you require a Pepper-Up, or a Headache Draught?"

The boy stared at him as if he were a ghost. "Er—no, I'm fine," he mumbled eventually, turning back to his toast in an undeniable attempt to shut him out. That was all fine and good, but…

"Your werewolf will be arriving shortly. Do not answer the knock at the door when it comes. I'd rather you not open it to find Narcissa Malfoy in place of Remus Lupin."

"Is…that a possibility?" Potter asked, movements slowing. "Sir?"

"Narcissa prefers not to set foot in Muggle dwellings," he said coolly. "Her chances of visiting are slim to none. However, that does not mean we can allow ourselves to relax, for there remains a possibility." He paused, and then pushed through the awkward air. "At night, you will practice Occlumency before falling asleep. You are to rid your mind of all emotion. Empty it, make it blank and calm, you understand?"

"Yes," said Potter, who was most certainly not paying attention.

"I shall know if you've not practiced."

"Right."

Severus decided it was a lost cause for now and turned to the Pensieve on the table. He'd replaced the memories already; they tended to spoil slightly if left unattended too long. Where to put it next? Or should he leave it out for another night, to subtly show Lupin that he was doing as he'd been asked and was teaching the boy to guard his mind?

The second option, he decided as he shifted the Pensieve a little to the side, was the better one. It couldn't hurt to rub it in the wolf's face a bit. "Is that all you will be eating?" he asked, looking dispassionately at Potter's meager breakfast.

"I s'pose. There's not much food, really, and…"

"Make a bowl of cereal. I bought it for a reason." That, and the milk was due to expire in a week.

Someone rapped on the front door. Heaving a sigh, Severus pinched at the bridge of his nose and wondered, not for the first time, what had ever possessed him to agree to any of this. "Sit still, Potter," he ordered, sweeping out into the living room to look through the spyhole. A very pale and spindly young man stood there, scratching at his wispy hair as though worried it would blow off in a sudden gust of wind. Lupin had arrived. Annoyed, he wrenched the lock back and pried the door open to hiss, "If you insist on switching appearances each and every time you visit, it's going to start looking as though I'm fucking hiring prostitutes."

"Good afternoon to you too, Severus," Lupin muttered back, edging past into the house. "I sincerely doubt your neighbors are going to think I'm a prostitute."

"You don't know my neighbors," he said darkly. The sunlight cut off as he shut the door, dousing them in darkness. "How long are you intending on staying? I do not have time to play host to guests. Do what you need to do and get out."

The wolf didn't respond, but instead strode past him into the kitchen, where the boy was. He could hear them exchanging pleasantries; Lupin wasn't wasting any time in beginning a fresh interrogation. Severus unashamedly eavesdropped on them as he pretended to dust his bookshelves.

"Have you been sleeping well? Is the couch comfortable?"

"It's fine. Snape put a Cushioning Charm on it, so I'm all right."

" Professor Snape, Harry. Have you begun Occlumency, or is this Pensieve merely for decorative purposes?"

"We had our first lesson last night. It, er…went okay."

Jesus, but this was tedious. Severus dropped the front of cleaning and went to the kitchen. Potter took one glance at him and hastily looked back down at his plate. Avoiding him still. Good…He wasn't going to let anything about their first lesson slip. Content for now, Severus said softly, "You must have misheard me before, Lupin…I know the rumor of werewolf super-senses are merely a myth…How long are you intending on staying?"

"Not long, Severus," Lupin said pleasantly. "I apologize for the rudeness—I must have been so focused on Harry's safety and well-being, I hadn't heard your question. Now…First, I need to know if…"

It was going to be a long visit.