CHAPTER 6
Wipe your mind of emotion, Severus told himself as he returned from the Owlery. That was the fundamental principle of Occlumency, and the first he had taught the boy.
It wasn't working for him right now. He yanked open the door to his quarters.
It was quite unfair, really.
He punished the boy by forcibly looking into his memories. And as a result, was reminded again and again that the Harry Potter he thought he knew did not exist. The more he watched, the more he felt for the boy.
He might have laughed at the absurdity of the whole thing if it were not so vexing.
Severus sank into his bed, feeling as if the dungeons had collapsed on him. Harry Potter was not spoiled at home. (He'd grown up in Petunia's home, for Merlin's sake!) And apparently the boy did not approve of his father's actions, either.
He growled and pushed that thought away.
He was surprised there hadn't been any murder attempts, what with the boy now knowing Severus's guilt in the Potters' murder. Then again, the boy was an idealistic fool.
Severus threw himself off the bed and paced the room.
Those green eyes. As though it wasn't enough he had had to put up with them in the school; now they had entered his quarters as well!
"Lily," he murmured.
Rage filled him like one of Longbottom's potions about to explode. He slammed his fist into a wall as his mind tormented him with memory after memory of the original owner of the emerald eyes.
Occlumency doesn't seem to work where the Potter brat and his thrice damned Bonding spell are concerned.
Lily in the playground, flying off the swing... Lily at their Sorting... Lily and he working at potions... Lily's laugh... Her red hair on fire in the sunlight.
Abusing her with that awful word when she stood up for him. Joining the Death Eaters in a desperate attempt to gain power... anything to gain her favour.
Overhearing the prophecy. The Dark Lord's interpretation of it, and Severus's own panic that drove him to kneel to another master... Lily's death...Grief in the Headmaster's office.
I wonder how long it will take for the brat to access these memories.
Severus sank to the floor with a soft sob. He wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight. He never did, on nights when his past came back to haunt him.
This time, Harry awoke with tears in his eyes. He lay awake for a while, thinking about all he had seen. The number of memories this time had been almost overwhelming. I wonder why there where so many this time? he thought, and then turned his mind to more important things.
Snape had known his mother. Had been a close friend of hers... And at least on his part, more than a friend.
"Ah, Potter," Snape said when he came, bleary-eyed, to the table and knelt. "Your list of chores awaits. You will prepare potions ingredients, scrub cauldrons, and clean the Great Hall and several of the school's corridors…" He trailed off and narrowed his eyes at Harry.
Harry was beginning to wonder why he had ever felt sorry for Snape when he felt the familiar tide of memories rise up in response to Snape's legilimency. He caught a glimpse of the eleven year old (Merlin, that felt weird to think) Snape and Lily in a playground, followed by a grieving Snape in Dumbledore's office, and then Snape pulled out of his mind.
"And what will you give me in return, Severus?"
"In— in return?... Anything."
"I apologise for taking another memory, sir." Harry stood, avoiding Snape's eyes, and suddenly saw it. Amid news of mayhem created by Voldemort and his Death Eaters, the newspaper on the table said,
CHILD ABUSE AT HOGWARTS! MINISTRY OFFICIAL FACING TRIAL!
Delores Umbridge, ex-High Inquisitor at Hogwarts, may spend up to ten years in Azkaban—
Harry's vision blurred with tears. He blinked them away impatiently, grabbed the paper and scanned the article again, forgetting Snape completely. Harry's name had been withheld, 'out of concerns for privacy'.
Snape had done this. Snape had taken action on behalf of Harry, and done it so that Harry's name wasn't splashed all over the papers again. Snape had vowed to protect Harry for Lily's sake. Snape had tormented him for five years. Snape had saved his life. Snape was currently making his life a hell.
"Had I but known it was so easy to reduce you to tears, Potter," Snape drawled, but less smoothly than usual. He was shaken too, Harry thought, just hiding it better. Harry swiped at the tear tracks on his cheeks and silently reached for his plate of food. He could still feel Snape's eyes on him when he went to sit on the readied mattress next to Snape's feet.
Harry spent the rest of the morning in a daze, moving with habitual ease from one chore to the next. Snape had been silent throughout his time in the potions lab, except to direct Harry to his next chore. His complete lack of reaction made Harry feel on edge. He wished Snape would just yell at him for yet another breach of privacy. Why the man didn't just get used to the idea instead of blowing up at him each time, he didn't understand; but then Snape had never before needed a reason to be angry at him.
It was at least a relief to understand why. Snape had hated James Potter because he had bullied him and because he took Lily away from him. He blamed James for trusting Sirius with the Fidelius charm and indirectly being the cause of Lily's death. Snape blamed him for looking like his father (because if that was so, he must, obviously, be like him in all other ways, Harry thought dryly). He probably blamed Harry for being the child of prophecy and getting his mother killed, too.
Anything to get the blame off himself, Harry thought as he glanced at the silent, brooding man. He thought he saw his shoulders twitch, and hastily directed his gaze back at the flobberworms he was chopping.
It was all so unfair.
Longing for Sirius crashed into his consciousness like a flashflood. Tears pricked his eyes again. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried as much as he had this summer. He had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot of that in the coming days. The thought made him feel positively childish.
"Professor, may I write to Ron and Hermione?"
Snape looked up from the potion he was brewing. It was giving off purple fumes that enveloped the potions master and made him look very queer. "Very well, Potter, but I will have to read through the letters."
"What? Why, sir?"
"Use your brain, Potter. They cannot know anything about your situation or your location, and as it is my life as well as yours that is at risk, I would prefer to make sure of your discretion." Harry squinted at Snape; the man sounded tired. The inconsequential little detail seemed monumental to Harry. The Snape he knew was always awhirl with energy, stalking up and down the classroom or the corridors, snarling and generally antagonizing everyone who had the misfortune to cross his path. All except the Slytherins, that is.
"You look terrible, Professor," Harry blurted out without thinking.
"Torture tends to have that effect. And five hundred lines for yet another personal remark, Potter, in addition to the ones you're already doing." Snape was smirking now, and looking less tired too. Maybe antagonizing Harry was energizing.
Harry sighed and returned to work and his own gloomy thoughts.
Writing to Ron and Hermione wouldn't bring any relief. He needed to be able to tell them things. Harry had a sudden vision of the summer and the year ahead stretching before him, suffocating in its dreariness. With Snape as his master. He wondered how on earth they were going to hide this after school started. He opened his mouth to ask.
"Professor, how…?"
"Shut up, Potter."
"Will you stop going on about my father!"
"Would you care to repeat that, Mr. Potter?"
Harry gritted his teeth in what was rapidly becoming a habit. If he had entertained the slightest hope that the shared loss of his mother might change things between them, it was blown to smithereens now. He was on his knees after a particularly grueling bout of Occlumency. He ached all over from doing that morning's chores, and was in no mood to be submissive.
"Have you got trouble hearing, sir?" Harry snapped. "I happen to be Lily Evans' son too, and I've never bullied anyone in my life. Which is more than I can say for you—"
He nearly dropped to all fours at the intensity of the pain that hit him.
"My, my, this is convenient indeed," Snape said. "Apologise, Potter."
"Make me."
"With pleasure," Snape purred. "But I confess it would give me greater pleasure to hear you beg."
"I've handled the Cruciatus from Voldemort, you Death Eater," Harry spat, biting back a groan of pain. "And I think I'd rather die than beg. And what would my mother say if I did die, Professor? "
The pain rose to a crescendo, dancing up and down his body. Black washed over Harry's vision and he yielded to oblivion.
Harry woke to find Snape sitting by his bed, reading. "I thought I heard Dumbledore," was the first thing Harry said.
"You must have imagined it, Potter." Snape's face was blank.
Harry narrowed his eyes at him disbelievingly, but Snape's expression did not change. "Hallucinations. Just what I needed," Harry muttered to the ceiling.
"You bring these things upon yourself, Potter." Snape's face was still expressionless, and Harry knew he was being mocked.
"I'm pretty sure I'm not responsible for my parents' death." Harry looked pointedly at Snape, and was satisfied to see his jaw clench. Until the pain returned. This time, a moan escaped him before he could help it.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when the back of Snape's fingers gently brushed his cheek. "W-Wha…" he began, and then tried again. "What are you doing?"
"Helping, I deeply regret to say," Snape said matter-of-factly. "The master's touch neutralises pain brought on for punishment."
Harry opened and shut his mouth a few times. Snape cut off what he was going to say.
"And I'm quite certain you're one of the reasons your parents died. Something to do with The Chosen One, I believe," he mocked.
Harry recognized the title from the newspaper he'd glanced at in the morning. "You really do have a talent for deluding yourself, Professor, if you really believe that—ow!"
"Apologise, Potter."
"Never!"
This time Snape overrode his will and forced an apology out of him.
"I hate you," Harry said immediately after the pain had faded. He flinched violently when Snape angrily lifted a hand towards him.
Snape's cold fingers ran over his forehead and the pain faded again. Harry unconsciously leant into the touch, and then blushed when he realized what he'd done. Snape silently sat back in his chair, and Harry stared at him in disbelief.
"Am I really dying?" He had said just a few minutes before that he would rather die than beg; it would be just his luck if that came true.
"What?" Snape looked at him as though he thought Harry had gone mad.
"Well, why else are you being nice to me?" Harry said, narrowing his eyes at the man.
Snape tapped his cheek with his finger. "You barrel your way into my home, interrupting a well-earned holiday, and wonder why I might want some peace and quiet?"
Harry laughed humourlessly. "There's a war going on, and you want peace and quiet? And anyway, that sort of thing never mattered to you before; you've never hesitated to be hateful just 'cause you wanted peace and quiet."
"I do not answer to you, Potter; neither do I care to explain my reasons to you," Snape said coldly, and then added, "I have a proposition for you."
"Yeah? I mean, what's that, sir?"
"You will address me with respect, and in return I will refrain from mentioning your parents. In addition, I will help when the Bond punishes you, instead of taking control of your will."
"You can insult me in any way except mentioning my father, and I always have to be respectful? Sir?"
"Heaven forbid," Snape drawled. "Remember, Potter, you are in my debt because of your asinine actions. I am mitigating the effects of that debt. That is my offer. You will keep your word, or spend all your time under an Imperius-like spell fogging your mind."
"You haven't left me much choice, have you?"
Snape smirked. "The day you get the better of me in a bargain will be the day I offer you my position as Head of Slytherin, Potter."
"Ew," Harry said, ignoring Snape's glare. He thought a bit, and finally agreed. "All right, sir."
They sat in silence for a while, Harry wondering all the while why Snape was still here. He suddenly felt quite tired. "Professor?" he said softly. "I'm sorry I broke into your memories. And for looking into your Pensieve last term." He waited for a reply, but there was none. He went on, his voice more nervous than he liked. "I didn't really think that memory would be private; I thought it had something to do with what Dumbledore had been hiding from me all year…And the Department of Mysteries…"He trailed off with a choking feeling in his throat. Sirius, he thought. He would not look at Snape.
That was when Harry's left forearm began burning.
A/N:
Once again, thank you very much—to those who reviewed, read, followed or favorited.
