Good evening, readers. Here's an extra-long chapter. Let me know if you think it should be two. I considered that, but thought I'd give you the gift of more to read.
If you have been following along, please note some major changes once I realized I skipped uploading a couple of important chapters. Consider re-reading, starting with Chapter 10 (Collaboration).
As noted in a couple of notes in the new chapters, I am delighted to share that I am between jobs and planning to write and upload a few chapters in the next couple of weeks. I am enjoying have you along for the ride. Let me know what you think!
DN
Harry, Ron and Hermione stopped outside the 5th-floor classroom door along with the other Gryffindor and Ravenclaw "8th-years."
"I wonder what we'll cover today?" wondered Cho aloud.
"The syllabus says "Blocking," whatever that means," said Parvati.
"It means keeping someone from getting into your mind," said Harry. "It's different from Occlumency, which is hiding thoughts but keeping your mind open. Blocking is just basically kicking out the bloke who's trying to get in."
"Wow," said Hermione, admiringly. "You really sound like you know what you're doing in this class."
"Try not to sound so surprised," Harry said with a laugh. "Snape tried to teach me some in my 6th year, but it didn't go well."
"That's Professor Snape to you," said a familiar deep voice, and Harry felt the expected whack of a rolled up parchment across his head. "And you are unduly modest." Snape turned to those assembled, who were stunned by a piece of praise coming from the stern professor's mouth. "Harry showed considerable … potential," he said, then turned to face Harry directly with a piercing glare. "What he lacked was control. We shall attempt to remedy that. Let's begin."
The students crowded their way inside the classroom, fighting to be as close to the front as possible. Harry paired with Neville, Ron with Dean, and Hermione with Padma.
"Now, today, you will begin to learn how to block others from entering your minds. The past few lessons have been, no doubt, rather revealing to one another, as I'm sure several of you showed things about yourselves that you'd rather not be known, and others of you discovered things about your classmates you wish you hadn't known. Those are the risks one takes in this sort of Magic, knowing more than you care to, revealing more than you mean to." Harry thought about his work with Neville. He had tried to be gentle about getting inside his head. It was very interesting. Far from the anxious, awkward boy Harry had known since first year, Neville on the inside was now fearless and driven. More so than many of the others, he had seen a lot of hardship in his lifetime, and had risen to the challenges of the war like few others. He had even stood up to the Carrows. He had shown Harry some of his thoughts about Snape, mostly because he thought Harry would enjoy them, but they were conflicted. He had grown out of his abject fear of Snape such that a boggart would no longer take his shape for Neville. Like the rest of the older students, he now understood that Snape had been on Dumbledore's side, but still felt pain when he considered the previous year when Snape was Headmaster, but under the guise of a Dark Wizard.
Harry had tried to show Neville some of his thoughts about the previous year, as well, but that year was mostly boring, with a great deal of waiting and fruitless searching. He wanted Neville to know that he, Ron, and Hermione had been trying as hard as they could to defeat Voldemort, but that it wasn't easy, or inevitable. Mostly, he wanted Neville to know how important his leading the remaining Hogwarts students had been. At the end of that class, they were both exhausted, and surprised by one another.
Now they had to try blocking. Harry hadn't been good at this. It was somewhat difficult to try anything in a class full of other people and their minds, but as the pairs settled down and began to work, there were fewer and fewer distractions.
Harry felt the now-familiar mental ripple of someone entering his thoughts. Those not trained in Occlumency might just dismiss the sensation as a sudden snapping-to or shudder, but now he recognized it for what it was, his brain being stimulated by another consciousness. First, he simply thought about things he was willing to let Neville see. Quidditch practice, research in the library, a Hogsmeade day. Then he tried to imagine a wall, or a door closing, or a window shade snapping shut. But it only served to provide a different image. Neville persisted, moving around the wall, pushing aside the curtain, opening the door. Now Neville could also see Harry getting a little aggravated.
After a time, Neville said "Let's take a break and go the other way. I'll try to block you." Harry agreed readily, feeling relieved by his kind friend's gesture.
Now Harry was wandering in Neville's mind. Neville was thinking about taking an autumn walk with … Harry couldn't see who. Now he was thinking of Herbology and what college he wanted to go to and who he might meet there and…. Harry was now steered to Neville thinking about carrying the Sword of Gryffindor and how natural the weapon felt when he had last picked it up. And now he was thinking of his last visit to see his parents at St. Mungo's, with Gran there telling the stories. He could feel Neville's emotions rising, pride on the one hand, but also great sadness. Then, pop, Harry was looking at a black curtain. It wasn't a figurative black curtain and he couldn't get around it. He was out. Nothing.
"Did I do it, Harry? Are you out?" Neville asked.
Harry looked at Neville in admiration. "Yeah, you booted me right out. How did you do it?"
"It was kind of weird. I tried a few times, but it didn't seem to work. I needed to be really motivated, to really want you out of there. I tried to think of things that I didn't want to think about myself, then kind of squeeze? It's hard to explain. Let's have you try again."
Harry considered what to think about, but Neville was already there, picking about, which irritated Harry a bit. Couldn't he give him a moment to get ready? "No," came the answer. "You won't have that option in a real fight."
"True," Harry mentally replied. He thought about Moaning Myrtle, the Golden Egg and the bathtub (Neville snickered). Not embarrassing enough. He thought about seeing his parents in the Mirror of Erised. Not embarrassing, particularly to someone who's parents were in a kind of half-death. He thought about kissing Ginny, then tried hard to push out Neville. Neville chuckled. Without meaning to, Harry's thoughts turned to the future, as they often did when he thought much about Ginny. His outlook was bleak, despite his affection for her. He expected a dull career, a predictable and peaceful life, without challenges and need to call upon bravery or courage to survive. He was pulled suddenly back, remembering that he was supposed to be trying to block out Neville, angry with himself for showing his hollow vision. He pushed against Neville's intrusion, but the other man persisted. Harry pushed harder, then finally he successfully blocked him. Neville stepped back with a look of concern.
Harry looked away, ashamed. Neville said quietly, "It's alright, Harry. A lot of us feel like that sometimes."
Harry gave a weak smile of acknowledgement.
"I guess that was enough to motivate me to kick you out. You're a persistent fellow."
"It's one of my better qualities," said Neville, now grinning. "That and my dancing. You're taking Ginny to the Halloween Ball, I guess?"
"Yeah, I probably should officially ask her soon. What about you? Who's the lucky lady? Janiss?"
"I asked, but she's already going with Seamus. He asked her two weeks ago, right after Flitwick announced the Ball, just to spite me. I'm thinking of asking Cho." he said in a whisper, looking across the room where she was deep in concentration with Parvati. "I hope you don't mind, Harry," he said conspiratorily.
Harry was impressed with his bravery to ask out both Janiss, who was becoming quite popular with the witches and wizards alike, and Cho, who had been well-liked for her entire time at Hogwarts. "Why would I mind?" he asked, puzzled.
"Everyone knows you used to like one another." Harry gaped. "It was the worst-kept secret that year, that and what a clod you were to Parvati."
"I don't mind a bit, and I can't think of any two people better suited to one another. There's only three weeks left before the ball. Take my advice, ask her now, before she gets asked by someone better-looking than you." Neville punched Harry in the ribs, and Harry took the punch.
"And I'll try to do some damage control for you. Parvati probably already showed her what a clod you were at the Yule Ball for one of her worst moments." Harry glowered and returned the punch.
Snape sat a few seats down from Hunter at dinner that Friday night. He was feeling smug. His new Legilimency class was going well. A few students had made an effort to dig into his mind, which he firmly rebuffed with a mental kick in the pants, followed by a glare and a reminder to keep their partner as their target. Perhaps next time he would give them an interesting scenario for their trouble, an image of themselves at the end of a day-long detention spent in his potions classroom during a Hogsmeade weekend, still sorting vials by size or cleaning out the reptile preparation area after a successful harvest. A smile passed over his face.
The research was going well. He found it difficult to repress a grin recalling how scandalized Dr. Hunter was when she discovered that the students she thought were volunteers were, in fact, in detention. He considered giving Miss Brown an extra detention for her revelation of this fact, even though she had no way of knowing that he'd never felt compelled to correct Hunter's amusing misunderstanding.
Hunter made a compelling argument that volunteers would be more dedicated to the task of learning and more likely to perform at a higher level than those there against their wills. He'd countered with the fact that, while this was theoretically true, it was not likely that a sufficient number of students would volunteer their time to spend MORE time with him, thus slowing their research. He had assumed that his appeal to the efficiency of executing the research would be enough to dissuade her from further argument. He was displeased when she replied that they might want to spend more time with HER, especially because that was a real possibility. Harry had been present at the time, spending his apprenticeship hours getting items ready for the next day's Advanced Potions class. Suppressing an appreciative laugh for the rare witch whose wit was a match for the Headmaster's, he suggested that some students might want to volunteer, that the older students in particular regarded him with respect for the complexity of the position he'd been in. Snape silently regarded this as unlikely, but called for volunteers during his next classes to demonstrate the futility of the approach.
A surprising number of students volunteered. Hunter had been very obviously making efforts to hide her smugness at this, to his consternation. But the research had continued, with good results from the better students. He hadn't given a detention in nearly two weeks. Perhaps next week.
His mind turned to Hunter. Since the...incident…. in the forest, he had attempted to put the matter behind him, given that it was driven by the unfortunate bluebells. But the images persisted and he played the event over in his mind more than once, careful not to allow himself these thoughts in Legilimancy class, nor when the 8th year students were nearby, as they continued to make a sport of pitiful attempts to violate his mind when the chance arose in the corridors. But when he was alone, in his office or private quarters, he allowed his thoughts to stray. He was under considerably less pressure now to maintain his Occlumency since the final fall of the Dark Lord, and had more freedom and relaxation than he could ever remember having. He had no idea what people did with this kind of time. He spent most of it reading and writing up research notes, and school business, of which there seemed to be a bottomless pit. The time between getting in bed and falling asleep seemed to be lengthening, and his thoughts would freely wander back to Hunter, when nothing otherwise distracted or occupied them.
He also thought about his future and the little mermaid girl. He needed to see if Trelawney had an update. He was sure she would tell him if she had a spontaneous vision, but perhaps she needed motivation to have another look. Perhaps this weekend, while students would be away at Hogsmeade, at least the older ones.
That decided, he turned his mind again to Hunter. He was convinced that the bluebells were the cause, for what else was possible? But she had insisted otherwise afterward. Her presence had awoken in him feelings that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in many years, her sharp mind a stimulus to his own. In a situation unprecedented by any previous objects of his affections, it appeared possible that she might feel similarly. Of the many skills he had honed over the years, these he had had no opportunity to practice.
Certainly, in his time as a Death Eater, he had developed relationships, but those were mostly based on efforts to form alliances, strategy, or just plain blackmail and abuse. Commitment and mutual regard never entered the picture; it wasn't their style. It sickened him, but his devotion to the life of a Death Eater had needed to be complete. Those skills were hardly the ones he would need if he were to pursue Dr. Hunter. But those bluebells, blast them. How was he to know for sure? Before he was to take any further steps, he needed to know her true feelings, without any possible contamination.
The weekend of her lecture at Beauxbatons had dredged up a rash of loneliness he had hoped to put aside. He found himself feeling like a schoolboy again, in the worst way, deserted and alone. And now without a gang of other like-minded Slytherins to help stir up some distracting entertainment, inventing new curses or practicing dueling. It was only for two days, she would return Sunday, but it couldn't be soon enough. He'd found himself unable to work productively, his time spent in the lab a waste. The few chapters of "New Techniques in Curse Casting" that he'd tried to read washed through his brain without sticking. Tossing the book roughly aside, he rose and strode the corridors. He considered meeting her at the gates, but felt it too forward. She would want time to unpack and relax. He'd give her two hours, he told himself, but once a single hour was up, he'd talked himself into requesting her in his office to provide a report on the state of Potions education the French school. Like the techniques of curse casting, little of the information stuck, but he enjoyed the rhythm of her speech. Her habit of stream-of-conscious monologues suited his mood and he allowed her to continue without interruption until his own mood had recovered.
He weighed his options in uncovering her true feelings. Veritaserum, taken voluntarily, of course, would be unpalatable, as she would be unlikely to place herself in such a vulnerable position (unless she trusted him greatly, which seemed unlikely). Trelawney might do a reading which could be revealing, but he had little faith in her skills on a day-to-day basis. He could ask the other female members of the staff if she'd said anything (insultingly creepy). He could ask a house-elf if she had said anything (absurdly intrusive).
But one additional option presented itself. It was intrusive, as well. But he was very skilled. He really did need to know, after all. He could fend off one of the most powerful wizards ever known, surely this little witch wouldn't be a problem. She was mostly an open book, chattering on as she often did.
Snape slowly chewed his dinner and bit by bit, as slowly and as softly as he could, began to enter Hunter's mind. He remained mentally still, making no waves, no disturbances, just an innocent bystander, not pushing to explore, just allowing the stream of her thoughts to trickle by him, there in the shadows. He attempted no questions, barely breathing, only chewing in a slow rhythm.
Bit by bit, the fog slowly cleared. She was in the lab, looking over the plans, considering the next round of experiments. Looking at ingredient lists, checking the stores, identifying what replenishment needed to be done. She was thinking of her speaking engagements and when she would be away, which left her feeling a little empty. He recognized the feeling too well.
There was a knock on the door. Her heart gave a leap. Who was it that she was so eager to see, he wondered. She rose and threw open the door. There was a tall, dark-haired man there, with pale skin and dark clothing. She took his hand and drew him into the room. Taking his other hand in hers, she breathed "Severus, I knew you'd come. I've been waiting for so long."
Snape stopped chewing, stopped breathing. This was dangerous territory, but to exit now, without being very delicate, would give his position away. He began to back away, a little at a time.
Hunter put her arms around the man's neck and he surrounded her with his embrace, but their height difference made it difficult. She pushed him down into a nearby chair, then proceeded to sit in his lap, her hands exploring his hair, his hands around her waist, pulling her closer.
Snape continued to try to slowly remove himself, but with each additional shift in her thoughts and emotions, he found himself more and more vulnerable to making a mistake and less and less able to remain detached and still.
She leaned into the man's neck and felt his warmth. "Severus," she said, her breath in his ear, her lips almost touching his cheek. "I can't get you off my mind."
The man gave a murmur of assent and turned his face towards hers, nearly touching. She grasped both his cheeks in her hands, looked deeply into his eyes, and said "But I can get you out of it."
The scene snapped shut with such force that Snape was temporarily blinded by a powerful migraine. Dropping his fork noisily, which only added to the pain, he grabbed his forehead, wincing. By the time he could see again, he didn't bother to notice that half the students and most of the staff were staring at him with concern. He only noticed that Hunter had already left. He continued to hold his head in his hands, but now for a reason other than physical pain. He breathed a few breaths to regain his composure, muttered something about an ice cream headache to those nearby, and withdrew to his private quarters.
Merlin's beard, he was in real trouble now. He paced his small room, hands clenching and unclenching as his thoughts raced. Where to begin? The question of when to begin was obvious, as soon as possible, but what to say? What arrogance he'd had, almost Potter-like, to assume she wouldn't notice. Clearly she was a witch of some skill. Had he really assumed her only skills lay in potion-making? He had underestimated her several times before, which was clearly a habit he needed to break. Though it was likely that he would few options in the future to estimate anything. It was certain she would avoid him now (deservedly so). He tried to imagine what he would say if someone else on the staff had attempted such a thing on a professional colleague. Would he fire them? A note in a file, at the very least, and probably some kind of censure. He hoped she wouldn't make a scene, but he would be hard-pressed to suggest that she be more professional, given his lack thereof.
And what would his response be to a colleague who tried to invade? General disgust and anger, lingering distrust.
Having only thought about what to say partway through, he strode off towards Hunter's rooms. Halfway there, in mid-stride, he stopped. He had no right, none at all. He had invaded her private space already tonight, in an egregious fashion, and it seemed it would be poorly advised to pursue her further. Regardless of his own need to explain himself and beg for forgiveness, he needed to show respect and avoid further invasion. He turned on his heel and headed back to his rooms again, silently cursing himself with every footstep.
After a fitful night's sleep spent both rehashing his foolishness and pondering what he ought to do next, Snape strode into the Great Hall early, attempting to be oblivious to the glances and mutterings of concern that followed him to the staff table. Hunter never appeared. He stayed as late as was reasonable, taking time over his eggs, reading more of the Daily Prophet than anyone would want to. After breakfast, the upper year students were dismissed into Hogsmeade to get up to who knows what kind of trouble. Snape paced the corridors, went down to the potions lab in the dungeons, then back up to the astronomy tower, passing through as many different floors and hallways as possible. His shoes nearly worn through from pacing the length of the castle, he finally caught sight of her out a window, talking with Professor Sprout outside one of the greenhouses. He descended the stairs in a barely controlled fall and strode over purposefully as they continued to talk.
"If I could get some additional mandrake by Monday afternoon, that would be very helpful. We'll be starting a series of Courage Extract soon."
Sprout was nodding and starting to speak when Snape came into view. They both stopped their conversation. "Good day, Headmaster. Must start on this mandrake." Sprout vanished into the greenhouse like she was Disapparating.
"Good morning, Dr. Hunter. May I have a word, if you have a free moment?" He spoke as gently and with as much control as possible, given the urgency of his wish to speak with her.
"Of course, Headmaster," she said, with exaggerated deference. "In your office?"
"If possible, I'd rather we walked while we talked," he said. "It's a lovely day and I need to get a few things from the forest."
"To the far side of the lake, I assume?" she said sardonically.
"Yes, the farther the better," he agreed with a grimace.
"No doubt," she murmured under her breath, but loudly enough. They walked down the slope behind the greenhouse and followed the path that led away from the castle and out to the far side of the lake. Snape didn't even notice the gillyweed in verdant bloom around the rocks, nor note the poison frogs that would have been an easy (and useful) catch. They continued in silence until they had walked nearly half an hour. The air, at first cold from the morning, began to warm as the sun rose over the mountains.
Once out of sight of the castle, Snape stopped and allowed Hunter to stop as well. She regarded him now with a loathing she resisted in view of the school or grounds.
"Morgan," Snape began. She growled. "Professor Hunter." He hesitated and took in a breath. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour yesterday evening. I was completely out of line and I beg your forgiveness."
"What in the heck were you doing, creeping around and spying on me?" Her words stung like armadillo bile. "What purpose could you possibly have had? Don't even answer that question, because there isn't really an answer that would make any sense. Only know this." Had she had her wand in her hand instead of only her finger, he had no doubt he would have been hexed back to London, perhaps across the Channel. "If you ever try anything as underhanded as that on me again, I will depart on the next train and report you to the Ministry, or worse, give an interview to the Daily Prophet."
The force of her words hit Snape like the train she would leave on, and he had no doubt that this was true. He could argue the point about her agreement with the school but it seemed like an inopportune moment to bring up contractual points. He needed another approach.
"I beg you not to go, Morgan. Dr. Hunter. Not for myself, but for the students who clearly value your teaching."
At this, she snorted. His appeal to the needs of her students had fallen flat.
"Ok, yes, for myself. I beg you on my own behalf. I behaved inexcusably, but I hope not unforgivably. I felt I had to know, Morgan, to know…." He trailed off, his words hanging in the still autumn air.
"To know what?" The force of her words was equivalent to Blasting Hexes.
"If your feelings were real or just from the bluebells."
"And you thought your need, no, desire, to know exceeded my right to privacy, my dignity. You thought you'd just go wandering through my brain, because surely if my feelings were real, I should be mooning over your pathetic skinny rear at every moment of the night and day?" She turned away, holding her hand to her head at though she had the migraine now.
Yes, those were the assumptions he'd made. When said like that it seemed absurd, but that was his prior experience with love himself.
"I'm sorry, Morgan. I have nothing else I can say. I only wanted to know if your feelings were real."
She snapped back around to face him. "Then you could have used a little Muggle Magic and ASKED me, Severus."
HIs name. She'd used his name. Not in invitation as before, but still to stirring effect. He paused and gave this some thought. He might not get the answer he was hoping for. She might very reasonably tell him to leave her alone for the remainder of her year here, that their research collaboration was at an end. The student volunteers might be entirely sufficient for her to execute their planned work without him. She might tolerate their research but put a halt to any aspirations for a more personal relationship. The thoughts tumbled upon one another, with few good outcomes. But his name, she'd said it. There was a small glimmer. It seemed like poor timing, with her in an entirely justifiable rage, but what was left to discuss, really? He plunged ahead.
"Morgan, now that the effects of the bluebells have certainly worn off, how do you feel?" His uncertainty that this was a wise course of action echoed in the rapid beating of his heart.
"Fine," she said haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest. "How do you feel, Professor Snape?"
It was more challenge than invitation, but there was at least a small part of invitation. He was being forced to reveal his own feelings before she revealed hers, the exact opposite of what he'd wanted when he began the business of using Legilimency on her in the first place. He failed to completely suppress his cringing at this most disadvantageous position. Unless she drew her wand, however, it could not get much worse.
"I feel...like I am under the effect of bluebells."
She looked at him quizzicallly. "I am not under the effect of bluebells, not a bit." She looked around at the forest and the lake. "That was a lousy move, Professor, really lousy. And I mean to keep my promise if you repeat such a performance. I know how to contact Rita Skeeter in under five minutes, yes, I know her name. I'm angry with you, disappointed…"
"Never again, Morgan. Never. I give you my word." He drew his wand and put it to his heart, where it glowed red, leaving a burn on his jacket.
Hunter was torn. She hadn't been so angry in years. Yes, she'd played a trick on him and hadn't shown him anything of consequence. Yes, he'd demonstrated yet again that he underestimated her, though this could be an advantage in many situations, as it had been before. And, yes, she still had strong feelings for him, though tempered now with indignation. But here he was, making no excuses, only seeking forgiveness, burning his pledge into his heart.
He made no further move. Aha, he was letting her decide. No pressure. She thought she knew what she wanted, what she had been waiting for since that night in the forest. Making significant decisions in this state was unwise. She needed time.
He returned her direct gaze. She was such an impressive witch, small, powerful, skilled, intelligent, bold. Amazing. And perhaps she found him interesting in some way, too. And perhaps, no, not perhaps, certainly. Certainly he had made a mistake, but perhaps not an unforgivable one. This much raw wishing he hadn't felt in years, and the feeling rent his heart. Perhaps he did have another chance to make something of his life, to be more than an outcast. Perhaps….
The eyes of at least 5 people, staff and students, noted that, although the Headmaster and Potions Mistress had departed for a walk around the lake together, Dr. Hunter returned alone and it was some time after lunch before the Headmaster returned.