Occlumency lessons…
Not for the first time, Severus wondered if Dumbledore had lost his bloody mind. True, it would be beneficial if Potter learned to shield his thoughts, but to suggest that Severus might be able to teach him that ability? Madness.
"Three lessons, Mr. Potter," he said, sneering as he prowled the length of his office. "Three lessons, and we've accomplished nothing. How do you justify your lack of progress?"
"Sir, I…"
"Legilimens."
As usual, he met with little resistance, plundering freely through Potter's memories. He paid little attention to the specifics of what he was seeing, casting recollections aside like so much rubbish as he waited for the boy to force him out. Quidditch practice, some foolish conversation with Weasley…
Finally, he felt a little push, choosing to withdraw though it really wasn't necessary to do so.
"Pathetic."
Obviously, Severus didn't enjoy these lessons, but that wasn't the extent of his frustrations. He was much more irritated with Dumbledore. Didn't the headmaster realize that this was a waste of time? Why couldn't he find someone more suitable to work with the boy? Yes, Severus was an accomplished Occlumens, but what did that matter? Without some level of trust, without a willingness to learn…
"Legilimens!"
Potter gasped, completely unprepared for another invasion. Severus gave him no time to adjust, touching on a mundane memory that had taken place in Hagrid's hut before he was given several glimpses of Grimmauld Place. Remus bloody Lupin. Sirius fucking Black. The sight of them befouled Severus's mood even further, their smiling faces making him scowl as they stepped forward to embrace Potter. It was almost enough to make him forget the past 15 years, the resemblance so uncanny he could've sworn he was looking at the boy's father.
"In here, Harry. I have something to show you."
This was a different memory, one that had obviously taken place at night. The boy was clad in pajamas, yawning as he joined Black in the sitting room. Several items were spread out over the coffee table, including a wrought iron container that was roughly the size of a shoebox.
"What is that?" Potter asked.
"It belonged to your mother. She…"
This time, it was Severus who was caught off guard. Potter pushed him out with surprising force, panting as he retreated to the other side of the office.
"No more."
He could've forced the issue. Really, there was nothing stopping him from invading the boy's mind as many times as he pleased. But he also understood the need for caution, particularly where Lily was concerned. Revealing anything that could possibly be interpreted as curiosity? That was to be avoided at all costs.
"Next Monday, Mr. Potter. Don't be late."
The week that followed felt more like a month, Severus's dreams haunted by visions of Lily. She was always in the back of his mind, but it never took much to bring her to the forefront. The briefest reference, some small association, even just the mention of her name was enough to plunge him backward in time, his emotions a hopeless tangle of love, grief, and confusion, not to mention the relentless guilt that underscored everything else. It never got easier, no matter how much time had passed. The only thing that had improved was his ability to function through the pain, keeping it carefully concealed at all times.
This situation was no different. He couldn't just plunder through Potter's mind and take what he wanted, no matter how tempted he might be to do so. He'd have to be subtle, showing no particular preference for the one thing – the only thing – he was desperate to see.
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday… at last, Monday rolled around, his body tense with anticipation as the boy stepped into his office.
"10 points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. I told you to be on time."
"It's only two minutes after…"
"Legilimens!"
Once again, he was given unfettered access, though he reminded himself to be careful. He forced them both to relive the memory of last year's Sorting ceremony, followed by a mind numbingly boring bit of drama involving Weasley and Granger. Something about the Yule ball… oh, who the bloody hell cared? His senses only sharpened when he caught another glimpse of Black, gaunt as a scarecrow as he stood next to Lupin in the Shrieking Shack.
"Ah yes," he said, lowering his voice to a silky purr as he withdrew. "Your beloved godfather. It's a pity that the Dementors never got their hands on him. I can only imagine…"
Potter was fuming, which of course, was exactly what Severus wanted. It guaranteed that thoughts of Black would dominate his mind, making it easier to probe more deeply without arousing suspicion.
"Legilimens."
He made sure to linger on several other memories before he returned to the sitting room. This time, Potter was holding the box, tracing the intricate carvings with the tip of his finger.
"This was my mum's?"
"That night… I wasn't able to save much, but I grabbed a few odds and ends."
Severus tore himself away, suffering through a couple memories of Potter interacting with his friends. Finally, he allowed the boy to push him out.
"Is it my imagination," he said, "or have you gotten worse?"
Potter didn't respond, though his expression was openly defiant. Taking that as an invitation to invade his mind again, Severus sifted through what seemed like a lifetime of memories before he came back to the scene at Grimmauld Place.
"What's in it?" Potter said.
Black shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I've never been able to open it."
"Do you think…"
"Not Harry, please no! Take me, kill me instead!"
Severus didn't know if it was Potter's doing or his own, but the connection shattered, leaving him gasping for breath. Fortunately, his reaction went unnoticed – Potter was on his knees, panting heavily as he looked up at the door.
"I want to leave."
He didn't wait for a response, slamming the door behind him as he fled the office. That should've earned him at least several hours of detention, though at the moment Severus couldn't bring himself to give a damn.
Really, it was only to be expected. The most prominent association the boy had with his mother was the way she'd died. Obviously, he wouldn't be able to think of her without that memory rising to the forefront, eclipsing everything else.
Severus should've been prepared for it. He should've braced himself, should've known that memory had to be deeply embedded in Potter's subconscious. Then again, could anything have made it easier to bear?
"Not Harry, please no! Take me, kill me instead!"
The desperation in her voice… the futility she must've felt in that moment, begging for mercy to no avail. The fact that Severus himself had put her in that position, all his efforts to save her proving to be in vain? Really, it was a wonder he'd found the will to go on after her death. All these years later and he still felt sick with remorse, unable to assuage his guilty conscience beyond his feeble attempts to protect her son.
A son he thoroughly despised.
Would it have made any difference if he'd learned to care for the boy? Perhaps, though that was a pointless question. Utterly stupid, really. Potter was the spitting image of his father, that foul, arrogant creature who'd made himself the bane of Severus's existence.
But it wasn't just Severus. Oh no. James Potter had mistreated Lily, too. His manipulation, his deceit, his willful neglect? Perhaps she'd chosen to stay with him, but was that truly what she'd wanted? Somehow, Severus didn't think so.
He'd entertained countless theories over the years, all of which had brought him to the same conclusion. It was that child that had sealed her fate. Any choice she might've had, the freedom to leave her despicable husband if she'd chosen to do so? That had been taken from her, lost in the moment she'd gotten pregnant. She would've been reluctant to leave the father of her child, no matter how deplorable that father might be. Doing so in the middle of a war when he was her only source for protection? She wouldn't have even considered it.
Potter must've known that. He would've realized that a well-timed pregnancy would work to his advantage, chaining Lily to his side for the foreseeable future. She would've known that, too… was it really plausible that she'd wanted to conceive that child?
No, of course not. Perhaps she would've felt obligated to perform certain… duties, but she would've never done so without taking precautions. That had to mean…
Oh, Severus knew exactly what it meant.
How had Potter done it? Had he switched her contraceptive for fertility potions? Cruelly ironic that the two looked remarkably similar. He could've used a charm, perhaps, reversing the effects of whatever she'd ingested. He might've even convinced her to use Muggle prophylactics, which were easy to tamper with, not to mention far less reliable.
In the end, the specifics didn't matter. What mattered was that he'd deceived her, just as he had so many times before. He'd fooled her into believing that Severus was the enemy. He'd lied about his bullying that final year, had tricked her into what was obviously an unhappy marriage. Forcing her to bear his child… was it really such a stretch to believe he'd been capable of that?
No, of course not. When had that bastard ever told Lily the truth?
That, Severus supposed, was why he hated the boy. What Potter had done to him was certainly a factor, but what he'd taken from Lily… her innocence, her freedom, her right to make her own decisions, ultimately her life?
The boy hadn't done those things. Even through a thick cloud of resentment, Severus could see that. Yet still, he was the living, breathing embodiment of everything Lily had suffered, all the things that had been stolen from her. Every bit of that had come from a single source, the father's visage perfectly reflected in the son.
That face was a reflection of Severus's torment, Lily's pain mirrored back at him whenever he looked upon those features. Even the boy's personality… selfish, lazy, arrogant…
Yet Lily had loved him. Of course she had. Not because he'd grow up to be worthy of that love, obviously, but because she hadn't been capable of hating any child, let alone her own. It was for her sake that Severus had offered his protection. He didn't have it in him to love the boy, any more than she'd had it in her to hate him. But he could at least do everything in his power to make sure her sacrifice hadn't been in vain.
Sighing heavily, Severus buried his head in his hands. He couldn't recall ever feeling so tired, already exhausted from a war that hadn't even begun. How long would it last this time? How would it end? Could he hope to find some small measure of peace when all was said and done? Or would he go to his grave despising himself, his life ending in yet another failure?
In the end, he supposed it didn't matter. There was only one path ahead of him, one he intended to follow to its inevitable conclusion.
"Sit down, Potter."
The boy gave him a wary look, dropping into the chair on the other side the desk.
"Are you ready for another lesson?"
"No."
"Legilimens."
Ready or not, Potter was prepared this time. Of course, he did nothing to repel the invasion, but he'd armed himself with memories that made the experience even more unpleasant than usual. Severus saw himself being ridiculed in Lupin's class, caught a glimpse of his sour expression as Dumbledore robbed Slytherin of the House Cup. He even saw his robes catching fire, which of course, had been his reward for trying to prevent the boy from plummeting to his death.
"Impressive," he said as he withdrew. "Though such tactics will be even more useless against the Dark Lord than they are with me. I'd suggest you try a different approach."
"I don't know how…"
"Legilimens."
Soon enough, Severus was back at Grimmauld Place, watching with bated breath as Potter attempted to open the box. He tried once, twice, and then a third time, mumbling a variety of unlocking spells. He even tried to blast it apart, a foolish move from Severus's perspective. Fortunately, that effort yielded no results other than a sigh of frustration.
"It won't open."
Black smiled. "Your mother was always good at charms."
He allowed himself to focus on the memory for a few more minutes, watching as the pair tested a multitude of passwords. This time, he wasn't worried about subtlety – Potter would most likely assume it was his continued failure that Severus found entertaining.
Under ordinary circumstances, he would've been correct. At the moment? Severus couldn't help hoping he'd succeed, curiosity having reached the point of desperation. What the bloody hell was in the box? Photographs? Keepsakes? Anything would've been precious – he had little to remember Lily by other than a couple photos he'd saved from the Daily Prophet, both of which had been outdated even at the time of her death. What he needed was something more recent, something that might help him understand…
Understand what?
He didn't know how to answer that question, dismissing Potter with a wave of his hand as the boy finally managed to push him out. Retiring to his quarters, he fixed himself a pot of tea, hoping next week's meeting would yield more information.
Unfortunately, Monday's lesson didn't go as planned. They'd barely even started when Draco burst into the room, informing Severus that he was needed upstairs. Was it an emergency? Of course not. A simple spell was enough to free Montague from the toilet. He muttered under his breath as he returned to the dungeons, wondering why one of the other professors hadn't dealt with the issue. Why interrupt him at such a crucial moment? Now more than ever, he had to know…
Clearly, he wasn't the only one who was curious.
He stormed into his office, slamming the door before he flung himself headlong into the Pensieve. He landed directly next to Potter, trembling with rage as he realized what was happening.
"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly's pants?"
"Having fun?" he snarled.
The scene faded to black, returning them both to his office. It might've been a relief if he hadn't been so furious, shaking the boy quite violently before he flung him away. He felt exactly as he had in that memory, a deep, gut wrenching humiliation that was almost too much to bear. Potter tormenting him… Potter's son witnessing every minute of that… cheering his father on, no doubt…
"You will not tell anybody what you saw!"
"No. No, of course I…"
"Get out!" he shouted. "Get out! I don't want to see you in this office ever again!"
Was it enough that Severus's privacy had been invaded, his most painful secrets exposed? Of course not. The boy couldn't even leave the room without causing further damage, leaving hundreds of dead insects in his wake.
Forcing himself to take several deep breaths, Severus withdrew his wand from his sleeve. He cleaned up the broken glass, relocating the cockroaches to a different jar. By then, he'd stopped shaking, sighing heavily as he sank into his chair.
Did he regret losing his temper? No, not particularly. What Potter had done was inexcusable, a violation that couldn't have been ignored. Unfortunately, Severus's reaction had also ensured that there wouldn't be any Occlumency lessons in the near future. Even if he could stomach being in Potter's presence, which hardly seemed likely, the boy would find some way to weasel out of it.
Of course, there was one thing that made him feel somewhat better, a small comfort in the face of humiliation. He'd seen genuine fear in Potter's eyes, an unmistakable reminder that the boy couldn't torment him as his father had done. These days, it was Severus who held the power… a power he wouldn't hesitate to use if it became necessary to do so. If Potter ever chose to reveal his secrets? The consequences would be severe.
Potter would know that. Of course he would. He'd inherited none of his mother's cleverness, obviously, but he wasn't entirely stupid.
Severus glanced at the Pensieve, secure in the knowledge that his secrets were safe for the time being. As for that other secret, the box full of mysteries that had yet to be revealed? He could no longer hope to satisfy his curiosity through Occlumency lessons, but… well, perhaps there were other ways.
