CHAPTER 5.

A/N: No, it isn't slash; why would it be?


"I hate you, sir."

"The feeling is mutual."


Harry found Snape waiting for him in the living room when he had finished cleaning his filthy room.

"Kneel," was the first thing the man said to him.

Harry stared at him in disbelief. Pain stabbed at his chest, and then the now-familiar sensation of his subdued will washed over his mind. He found himself on his knees, looking up at his smirking master.

"Imitating your Master, are you?" Harry spat.

The smirk disappeared. Address me as Dominus, Potter, a voice spoke in his head.

"D-Dominus," Harry gasped, fighting helplessly against the blanket over his mind.

"Rise," Snape ordered.

Ridiculous. Harry obeyed.

"We will resume Occlumency lessons," Snape said without preamble.

Harry's jaw dropped again.

Snape made an impatient noise. "Potter, you heard the headmaster. Your asinine stunt has placed my life and my work in jeopardy. You must learn to close your mind to the Dark Lord's."

Harry hadn't thought of that little detail in the confusion that had followed his departure from the Burrow. "But Dumbledore knows our working together is a bad idea!"

An unpleasant smile stretched Snape's lips. "But this time, I control your will, Potter. Professor Dumbledore knows this." He raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry sulkily mumbled an apology, rubbing his twinging chest.

"I see you're getting better at this, Potter. Gets easier after a while, doesn't it?"

Harry glared, then grit his teeth as pain shot through his chest again. "Respect, Potter," Snape whispered. "I realize it's particularly difficult for an arrogant brat such as yourself. You wouldn't see a house-elf glaring, would you?"

Harry bit back several retorts about respecting the murderer of one's parents, and finally settled on, "I am not a house-elf!"

"No," Snape drawled. "Your situation is far more pathetic. Oh, do attempt to rein in your anger, Potter, before you burst a vein. In fact," and here he switched into his lecture-mode, "empty your mind of all emotion." Once again, the strange blanket descended over his mind, but this time, it wiped his mind of emotion.

"It worked!" Harry's lips lifted in a small smile. It felt odd when he'd been so terribly angry moments before.

Snape, by contrast, looked sour. "Indeed. It would seem you are perfectly capable of following instructions; which raises the question as to why you seemed unable to do so last year."

Harry fought not to look away from the black tunnels that were Snape's eyes. "Unable to control my emotions? I'm always angry around you, Professor. I can't help it."

"You will learn. Legilimens!"

The room disappeared and a storm of memories and impressions rushed past Harry's eyes, overwhelming him. He tried fighting it, to no avail. Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia. Dudley. Umbridge. Quirrell. Snape. The Mirror of Erised. Dumbledore. Sirius. Bellatrix, and then Voldemort at the graveyard. It was worse than watching a single horrifying memory, and much worse than anything Snape had thrown at him in Occlumency last year. For the first time, Harry wondered if Voldemort could do worse things than possessing him. This felt like going mad. Just as his panic rose to a crescendo, the rush of memories and emotion stopped and the room reappeared before his eyes.

Snape was on his knees before Harry, panting, one hand covering his eyes.

"Professor!" Harry automatically moved forward to help. Snape shot to his feet in a sudden, jerky motion, glaring daggers at Harry. "What happened?"

"Another result of your blind idiocy, Potter," Snape snarled. He looked unsteady on his feet. "Our minds are now connected—or rather, yours is open to mine; deep probing apparently lets loose a flood of memories—" He stopped as if he'd said too much.

Harry was still confused. "But you legilimised me a few hours ago, this didn't happen then."

"Deep probing is what caused this; did you not hear what I said?" Snape snapped. "The memory I saw then was at the surface of your mind, of course this didn't happen then." He was regaining his poise as he spoke.

"So…you can't teach me?" Harry said hopefully.

"Hardly. This will not happen a second time; I was merely unprepared. Legilimens!"

It was peculiar; on the one hand, there was the onslaught of memories (controlled this time), on the other hand, the blanket still pressed on his mind, and Snape's voice ordered him to fight. Sure enough, he soon managed to throw Snape out of his mind in a few minutes.

"You were not trying hard enough last year," Snape said angrily.

Harry disagreed, but kept quiet.

"Now all we need is for you to repeat this performance without my assistance."

There were no jeers or cruel remarks for the duration of the long, grueling lesson. It seemed Snape was serious about his own life being in danger until Harry mastered Occlumency.

At lunchtime, Snape called the lesson to a halt. Food appeared on the dining table, and Snape took the only chair.

"On the floor, Potter, like a good little slave," he said, flicking his wand. A mattress appeared by his feet.

Harry clenched his fists and obeyed, telling himself it was no worse than the Dursleys. He sounded unconvincing even in his own mind.


Harry scrubbed away at a stain on the floor of a potions classroom that probably hadn't been used in decades. He's been at this for the last few hours, and the room was beginning to look like a classroom rather than a storage room. His thoughts were in more disorder than the room was.

He had taken stock of his situation as he worked, and had assessed it as grim. This was going to be the worst year of his life, with Sirius gone, the Prophecy hanging over his head, and now being a slave to Severus Snape, of all people. As if forced servitude to the Dursleys hadn't been enough.

Dumbledore either couldn't or wouldn't help. He had promised Harry he would look at the other magical artefacts in the Vault (as Harry had started calling the Heiress' inheritance) and look for a solution, but even Harry could tell the prospect was daunting. Dumbledore probably had a hundred other important things to do. To be fair, Harry had wrecked the man's office, invaded his spy's privacy, put his life at risk, and might have cost the Light a crucial strategic advantage. Dumbledore probably thought he deserved this. Harry wasn't sure that he didn't. He wiped away a tear, suddenly missing Sirius with a fierce ache. Sirius would have understood. He might have disapproved of Harry's actions (then again, maybe not); but he would've understood.

Pain shot up his chest, and he saw that Snape was in the room, watching with an inscrutable look on his face.

"Dominus." Harry resentfully muttered the greeting. He was glad he was already on the floor and didn't have to kneel just for Snape. He was gladder he didn't still have tears in his eyes.

"You made two forays into my memories in the last five hours," Snape said, giving Harry permission to get up. Harry caught him glancing almost suspiciously around the room.

It was not a question, but Harry replied, "Yes, sir."

"I will be taking memories from you in payment for the ones you steal from me, Potter."

"What?" Harry spluttered. "Isn't all of this," he gestured jerkily at everything around them, "enough?"

"Mr Potter, what happened to your hands?"

Harry looked down at the blood and shrugged. "The detergent's strong. I couldn't find the protective gloves."

"Why didn't you come to me?"

Harry only looked back at him incredulously. Snape's face darkened.

"I asked you a question, Mr Potter."

"I… didn't think it was that important, Professor."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Mr Potter, I'll take my first payment now." Before Harry could protest, Snape was in his mind. Harry didn't even try to fight. He watched, half-angry and half-resigned, as Snape dug out the memory that was foremost in his mind right then.

"Aunt Petunia," little Harry said, "the de-ter-gen's too strong. My hand's bleeding."

His aunt barely looked at him as she pushed him out of the kitchen.

About five memories of Dursley memories later, Snape stopped.

"You'd fit right in with them, you know," Harry informed him matter-of-factly. "They blame me for existing, too."

Snape grabbed Harry's bleeding hand, startling him. "What did I tell you about personal remarks?" He drew his wand.

"Professor?" Harry's eyes widened in fear as Snape pointed the wand at him.

"Episkey," Snape whispered.

The cuts closed. Harry rubbed his hands experimentally, but his thoughts were elsewhere. 'It's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean,' his father had said about Snape. Harry saw Snape start, but didn't think anything of it, until his surroundings melted away.

Oh, great. Snape doesn't even need to cast Legilimens to see into my mind now. It was the very same memory Harry had been thinking about; the one he had seen in the Pensieve. James Potter was pointing his wand at an upside-down Snape. Harry looked away at once. His eyes lingered on Sirius for a while, but then as Sirius joined his father in defeating Snape, he began to look for his mother.

Red hair and his own eyes. And the only one who stood up against the bullies. Harry cast the tiniest glance back at Sirius, and then slowly followed his mother with his eyes as she left the scene. Loneliness and a sense of loss threatened to engulf him again. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the older Snape standing to one side, watching his younger self being bullied. Harry wished he could feel angry at this invasion of his mind, but couldn't manage it. Their eyes locked, and then Snape followed Harry's gaze to look at the red-haired girl in the distance.

The scene shifted and he was surrounded by darkness. A scream rang out, and Harry cringed. He really, really didn't want to hear this.

"No, not Harry, anything but Harry!"

"Stand aside, you silly girl!"

The dying scream that followed drove Snape out of his mind. "What was that?" he asked after a few minutes. The man looked more shaken than Harry had ever seen him. Weren't Death Eaters supposed to be used to this sort of thing?

"My only memory of her before you gave—before I… stole that other one from you." Harry kept his voice flat and emotionless.

Snape wasn't looking him in the eye, for some reason. "It is impossible that you would remember that."

Did he actually pity Harry? I think I'd prefer open hatred, Harry thought, repulsed. "The Dementors dragged it out of me." He looked down uncomfortably, and then blinked at his own hands in astonishment. "You healed me," he said stupidly.

"Excellent observation skills, Potter," Snape returned waspishly. Then he stopped and stared. "What is that?" Snape barked, grabbing Harry's hand for the second time. The words I must not tell lies stared up at them from Harry's right hand.

"Um," Harry began, uncomfortable with his proximity to Snape and their bizzare position, "Umbridge made us write lines with these quills during detentions…" He trailed off when Snape's face turned livid. For a moment, he thought Snape was going to hex him for complaining. Then Snape's shoulders slumped, making him look strangely less intimidating.

"To bed, Potter," Snape finally bit out. "Now. Your meal will be delivered to your room."

Harry stared at him for a moment longer. Was Snape angry on his behalf, then? He internally scoffed at the idea and then slowly knelt. "Dominus," he muttered to the floor, feeling absurd. Snape gestured at him to rise, and at another sign from the man, Harry left. He desperately needed a shower.


The sound of the Floo woke Harry. He almost turned over and went right back to sleep (Snape had, after all, told him not to leave the room on threat of dismemberment), but then he heard the sound of a falling body and a pained groan. He glanced at the clock and nearly groaned himself. This was the second night his sleep had been disturbed.

The door to his room wasn't locked, to his relief. Snape sat on a transfigured chair. But what caught Harry's attention and made his stomach turn was not Snape's exhausted and dishevelled appearance. It was the blood leaking through his clothes onto the floor.

"Er," he said. It sort of alarmed him that Snape hadn't noticed him yet. The man was leaning heavily to one side in a rather boneless posture, his gaze blank and fixed on the opposite wall.

Snape looked up. "What are you doing here?" he demanded angrily, straightening at once.

"You're hurt."

"Back to your room, Potter!" Harry noticed Snape wasn't making the smallest move to get up. He must be too hurt. The thought gave him courage.

"I can help, Professor."

"Did you not hear what I said?" Snape's tone was dangerous now.

Harry stood his ground. Something—the memory of Snape healing him just a few hours ago, perhaps—made him want to stay. "You can't even move! Just tell me which potions you need from the cabinet—sir," he added hastily.

"You think I'd trust you anywhere near my potions cabinet?"

"I wouldn't do something like that, not now, not when you're like this! You can legilimise me if you like; I'm telling the truth!"

A long, tense silence followed, and then Snape wordlessly summoned Harry's wand and handed it to him. "You will need it to unlock the wards on the cabinet," he said by way of explanation. This was followed by the password to the cabinet and the list of potions that Snape needed.

"Can you tell me what happened, sir?" Harry asked quietly when he had done as he'd been told. Snape's wounds had stopped bleeding. Or so he claimed; Harry had really no way of knowing. Snape's black robes didn't show blood stains.

Another long pause, and then Snape said, "The Dark Lord was not pleased to know you had been moved and that I apparently did not know where."

Harry stared at him, open-mouthed.

Snape sneered. "Still think I'm going to hand you over, Potter?"

Harry found he had difficulty looking the man in the eyes. "I'm sorry I said that, Professor," he said, trying his best to sound sincere.

Something flickered in Snape's face for a moment and then was gone. "Go to bed, Potter."

It was only after Harry obeyed that he realized Snape hadn't taken Harry's wand again. Maybe this isn't going to be that terrible after all?

That night, he saw Snape's memories again. This time they were about one Lily Potter nee Evans.


A/N:

Thank you, once again, to everyone who read and showed support for this fic. Please review!

marietta: I'll assume your questions weren't rhetorical, shall I? ;) No we don't, all in good time, and yes.