AN: I actually just wanted this story to be a one-shot and no multi-chapter, but so many people liking my story and so many ideas in my head made me continue it anyway. Again I'm not a native and this is my first HP fanfiction. I have a vague idea where I'm going with this but am still open to suggestions. I try to stay true to the books and update regularly. Please read, enjoy and review.
Snape paced through his office as he often did when something was bothering him.
The last days had been… unexpected. The things he had learned about Potter had changed his way of thinking about the boy. It had been a hard and painful realization, but once he had made it there was no turning back, and he saw more and more of his Lily in him each day. Sometimes the anger and bitterness still welled up and he tried to convince himself that he had been right all along, but couldn't really convince himself of that. Mostly, he was able to stay neutral. He kept ignoring the boy during classes and in the Great Hall. He couldn't just suddenly be nice to the boy. After all, he had a reputation to uphold – in school and in front of other Death Eaters. Also, it wasn't easy to change one's thinking in just a couple of days.
Harry did quite well in potions when left alone, which surprised Snape just as much as Harry. The O.W.L.S. were starting soon but he still demanded Harry to be there tonight for his Occlumency lesson. He decided he would use a different approach this time recalling his previous attempts on teaching the boy. He also remembered the boy talking about him not explaining how to empty one's mind. And if he was perfectly honest with himself, he had to admit that he had not put forward his best foot teaching-wise.
He sighed. He still could remember how Albus had taught him during the first war. But he had been eager to learn, older, knew already a lot about the subject and had a completely different relationship to his teacher.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in Mr Potter," he said.
Harry entered the classroom. He looked stressed and frustrated, but less frightened than usual. He was still a bit suspicious of him but the potion master could not blame the boy for that after how he had treated him during the last years.
"Sit down, Mr Potter." He said and the boy did as he was told while regarding him with the same circumspect expression he always used when his professor did not snap at him.
"We will try a new approach today. Close your eyes... Good. Now slowly inhale through your nose… hold your breath and slowly exhale through your mouth. Continue."
Snape let him breathe deeply for a few minutes.
"Now instead of trying to not let me see any of your memories, attempt to only let me see one. Occlumency is, as I have already mentioned, a lot like casting a Patronus charm. Only instead of a happy memory you focus on a neutral one. Continue breathing and imagine you are on a broom flying through the air." He thought with the boy so fond of Quidditch, this might be a good image for the training. It would most certainly keep him calm. Snape took his wand from his desk. "Imagine the wind blowing through your hair… keep the image in your head no matter what… Legilimens!"
This time, Professor Snape found himself watching Harry on a broom. Unlike his previous attempts this time his memory was more of a picture than a movie. The scene did not switch on its own. Snape had to admit that with a useful instruction the boy was doing a decent job.
Severus pushed a little harder. Few times memories flashed before him. Potter getting career advice from McGonagall with Umbridge watching. One of him, Hermione and a giant. Harry looking at a picture from his father. The last one was accompanied by a feeling of sorrow. He felt like he didn't know his parents at all and like he had lost them again. He felt a lump in his throat and an ache of loneliness. He almost started crying.
Snape pulled out of the memory.
He felt sick. He thought seeing and feeling the boy losing faith in his father and his godfather would make him feel good but it didn't. It felt too intimate and like the other day, he had to remind himself what Lily would think of this. The boy had almost no one in his life and telling him about his father and godfather would do no one any good. James was dead and all the boy had left of him were the things others told him. But more than that, Snape didn't want to see Potter as a lonely and skinny child, abused by his relatives. He didn't want to see how wrong he had been and how much he had failed Lily.
Harry looked tired and embarrassed.
"Was that a giant?" Snape asked after a while half-heartedly, trying to distract the boy from the last memory.
When Harry didn't answer Snape sighed, "Hagrid…" and let it drop. The boy looked grateful though.
"This was already very good, Mr Potter. Try to keep your focus on the broom and when you realize that the scenes change, do not panic. Instead continue to breathe and concentrate on the image. Legilimens!"
Again he saw Harry on his broom. He carefully pushed a little and saw flashes of other memories but before he could make out what they were he found himself looking at the flying boy again. Then Harry opened his eyes, looked at his professor and threw him out of his mind.
"Well done, Mr Potter" Snape found himself praising the boy in front of him, and it probably surprised him more than Harry.
First Harry looked confused but then he smiled. With the breathing and the picture it had been so much easier.
They tried it again and this time Harry threw him out even faster than the first time. Snape had not tried as hard as he usually did, but he decided to steadily increase the pressure until the boy would be able to keep even the Dark Lord out of his mind.
"Apparently you have more in common with your mother than I previously assumed," Snape muttered quietly.
"Is that another insult?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow. He had obviously heard.
Snape shook his head. "Not at all."
Harry looked to the floor and muttered something.
"What was that?" professor Snape asked.
"I was wondering... could you tell me something about my mother, sir?" And he said it with a hopeful yet scared look on his face.
Snape frowned. He did that quite often around the boy, he realized. What should he tell him? Should he tell him that they had been friends?
"Your mother... Lily and I were at Hogwarts at the same time, as you already know. We had a few classes together. She was a very bright and gifted witch. She had a talent for potions and charms and even transfiguration. She loved magic. She was so good, the Dark Lord even offered her a place in his ranks although she was no pure-blood... which she of course refused. She survived 3 encounters with him. She was a kind person. She was witty and had a sharp tongue..." Snape was lost in his memories and Harry listened intently.
"Professor?" Harry asked after a while. "You have a lot of nice things to say about her," he said and thought about adding, "especially compared to what you have to say about my father" but in the end he didn't. He now knew why Snape despised his father and he understood and didn't want to talk about it again. He also didn't want to anger his professor, who might be able to tell him more about Lily.
Seeing that his professor wasn't going to say anything to his last statement he continued.
"Many people have told me about my dad but hardly anyone ever talks about my mother."
"Probably because you were only talking to his friends," he spat the last two words. "Many of your mother's friends have died during the first war and my guess would be that her dear sister Petunia didn't have a lot of nice things to say about her." They both cringed by the mention of Petunia.
"You know aunt Petunia?" Harry asked eventually. "Did you know my mum before Hogwarts?" He hesitated then. Perhaps he was reading to much into this... "Were you friends?"
It would make sense. He had a lot of nice things to say about her and also knew a lot of her background story. And his mother had tried to protect him in the memory he had seen.
Snape struggled for an answer. "...Yes. I lived close to the Evans when I was a kid. I told her she was a witch and we became friends. I also knew her sister. She loathed me but that feeling was mutual. She was jealous of her magic and started calling her a freak."
Snape had trouble talking about this, Harry could sense it.
Harry wanted to know more and most of all why he had called his mother a mudblood if they had been such great friends. But he didn't have to as Snape could guess his questions from the look on his face. Harry could have sworn he saw a flash of pain in the eyes of his professor.
"I think you should leave now, Mr Potter," he said coldly, and ended their conversation.
Harry stood up but didn't move.
"Sir?" His potions professor looked troubled and exhausted and a little like he might jump at Harry any second if he provoked him any further.
"I'm sorry sir, I shouldn't have asked so many questions. Thank you for answering them."
Snape frowned and practically shoved Harry out of the door. "We will meet again two days from now. Now that Quidditch is over, you have time for remedial potions two times a week. Practice what we did today every evening before you fall asleep and every morning. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes sir. I'm sorry. Good night, sir," Harry whispered and left the classroom as fast as he could, once more scared of his professor.
Harry tried to learn for his O.W.L.S. before he went to bed but couldn't concentrate. Not with all the questions Snape had left him with. He had been friends with his mom? How come nobody had ever mentioned this before? Why had their friendship ended? And why was he suddenly so… not nice but humane to him?
More and more questions formed in his head.
He decided to call it a day and go to bed early. In bed he concentrated on his breathing and the image of him riding a broom. He fell asleep quickly and for the first time in what seemed to him like ages he had a dreamless night.