It had been a little over an hour into the day's Occlumency lesson, and Harry was starting to think he was never going to even begin to grasp the concept, let alone master it. He felt as if he had made the same amount of progress as he did last year, which was barely none at all.

"Concentrate," his father said as he raised his wand at Harry for what seemed like the millionth time. "Clear your mind of all thought."

"I'm trying to," Harry said with a sigh.

He swiped away the beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, then drew in a deep breath, trying to ready himself for another assault on his mind. He'd read the Occlumency book his father had given him cover to cover, and thought he'd understood the concept fairly well, but being able to actually do it was another matter entirely. Harry didn't know how his father managed it. For the life of him, Harry couldn't seem to clear his mind; to completely wipe away all thought, when his mind seemed to constantly form new ones quicker than he could clear them.

But he was really putting in the effort this time, determined to eventually reach a level that was acceptable to blocking out Voldemort.

"Ready?" Severus asked, and at Harry's nod said, "Legillimens!"

The room was quickly swimming, vanishing before his eyes once again. Memories flittered by. Harmless ones at first; he was laughing with Ron and Hermione as they studied beneath the oak tree in front of the Black Lake; he was soaring through the air on his broom, his hand outstretched as he flew after a golden snitch; then he was brewing a potion with his father beside him…

His father probed and pried as Harry tried to force him out, hoping to slow the string of memories that have now turned into very early memories that Harry had not even realized he still had, most of them concerning the Dursley's. Memories that Harry had thought he had long forgotten and didn't want his father to see, much less Voldemort. He suddenly felt the bitter chill of a cold winter night surrounding him as a door slammed heavily behind him, his uncle's voice still audible through it as the lock on the other side of the door clicked. Before Harry had a chance to process the scene, the door morphed into a tall veil and a green blinding light, and he was watching Sirius stumbling back into the flowing veil…

And as abruptly as it started, everything stopped. Harry found himself on his knees, back in his father's study. It took him a moment to realize how heavy he was breathing, as if he had just finished running a marathon. Harry didn't know how much more of this he could take; he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming between his eyes.

"Why were you locked out in the cold, Harry?" his father asked softly, after several silence moments had passed.

Harry lowered his eyes, tracing a crack in the wood floor with his fingertip as he recalled that distant memory. "I had dropped a plate of roast beef that Aunt Petunia made for Christmas dinner," he said quietly, remembering it clearly now.

Aunt Marge was visiting that week and Dudley had pushed Harry while he was bringing food to the table. Uncle Vernon's punishment for him was to lock him out of the house for the rest of the night in the dead of winter. Harry was seven at the time.

There was a sharp exhale from his father, and out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed his father's clenched fists, the grip on his wand tightening.

"Perhaps we should end the session there for today," Severus said, after a few moments. "Are you all right?"

Harry glanced up fully then and saw the man watching him, a hint of concern in his gaze. With a shaky breath, Harry nodded, his knees giving a creak of protest as he slowly got back on his feet.

"Sorry, I guess I really am just rubbish at it," Harry said, feeling rather discouraged with all his failed attempts.

"It takes time," his father said, brushing that comment off, with no distinguishable irritation or impatience at the lack of progress in his voice that Harry was expecting. "Have you been practicing the meditation exercises before bed as the text instructed?"

"I've been trying to…" Harry answered, unable to help lowering his eyes. He had sat there cross legged on the floor in the middle of his room every night before bed, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to wipe his mind, to clear away every thought, to just stop thinking…

But if Harry was being completely honest with himself, he really had no idea what the hell he was doing, much less if he was actually doing it correctly.

"Could we— uhm," Harry hesitated, a bit uncertainly, before making up his mind and asking, "Could you possibly go over it with me?"

His father gave him a thoughtful look. "Of course," he said, then with a flick of his wand, the two chairs in front of his desk slid across the floor towards them, and were transfigured into two large, green cushions.

"Sit," Severus said, indicating one of the two cushions now in front of them.

Harry gave him a questioning look before doing as he was told, slowly lowering himself down onto a cushion. He couldn't help being amazed at how soft it was. It was as if he was sitting on clouds, but Harry didn't allow himself to sink in and enjoy it for long. Instead, he straightened his back as much as he could manage and looked up at his father, ready for the next set of instructions.

"The point is to relax, Harry," his father said, before he lowered himself down on the other cushion, facing Harry.

It was a rather strange sight, Harry thought, seeing his father seated cross legged on a green cushion, his dark robes pooled out around him.

"Meditation will help you achieve the state of calmness you need to concentrate, control your emotions and clear your mind," his father said smoothly. "Now, close your eyes."

Harry did, trying to relax, as much as he could.

"We will begin by concentrating on a single focus point," Severus said. "Try to concentrate on your breathing for now and use it as your concentration point. Relax and feel them. Think only of them."

Harry tried, taking deep breaths in and out, focusing only on his breathing, attempting to adjust them into a relaxed rhythm.

In and out… In and out…

But Harry soon found that the more he tried to concentrate on his breathing, the less natural it became…

He wondered if this was maybe a nightly ritual of his father's. Harry couldn't help picturing the man sitting cross legged on a cushion, his arms outstretched and fingers joined together, forming small 'O' shapes on either side of him as low hmms emerged from his lips—

No, must focus on breathing…

Harry forced the image from his mind, redirecting his concentration on his breathing again, unable to help counting each breath this time…

In and out… In and out…

Since when did simply breathing become so difficult?

"Harry."

Harry flinched.

"Sorry," he blurted, opening his eyes slowly to see his father watching him closely, but there was still no hint of any impatience or irritation on his features.

"Close your eyes, again," his father said calmly, disregarding Harry's apology. "Relax and concentrate…"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut again, determined to only focus on his breathing this time and nothing else…

Focus on breathing… Clear your mind… Focus on breathing…

How did his father manage to do this?

No matter how hard he tried, Harry just couldn't seem to simply relax.

Harry was starting to believe he would never be able to do it even if he practiced every night.

"Open your eyes," Severus said, most likely seeing and sensing Harry's growing frustration. His breathing pattern had changed as well, and no doubt, his father had taken notice.

Harry sighed, opening his eyes and glancing hesitantly over at his father. "Sorry. It's a lot harder than I thought it was going to be."

"It undoubtedly is." Severus brushed off the apology again, regarding him thoughtfully for a few moments.

Harry let his shoulders droop, feeling rather defeated now. At this rate, he was never going to come close to learning Occlumency, much less blocking out Voldemort himself…

"Perhaps, if you can't clear your mind completely, you can use it as a diversion, a mere distraction of sorts…" his father said, still in that same calm demeanor and Harry wondered how much longer that was going to last. Because Harry was certainly feeling quite frustrated with himself.

Maybe this technique would be easier for him to grasp, though Harry wasn't going to hold his breath. Then again, he had trouble just breathing…

"Take a few breaths, relax," Severus said in a soft soothing voice, "and this time, focus on a single thought. It does not have to be a real memory…"

Harry closed his eyes again, and decided to picture himself flying because he felt the most peace when he was soaring through the air on his broom. The image was a bit blurry at first, but it strengthened as Harry concentrated harder on the surroundings, adding in more details. When everything became sharper, he pictured a snitch zipping in front of him and he followed it around the Quidditch pitch. Harry could almost feel the wind flowing through his hair, the warmth of the sun against his face; he could chase this snitch all day…

"Now, open your eyes."

The made up memory started to quickly fade in his mind when he did, but Harry held on to it before it slipped away entirely.

"Conjure up that memory once again," his father said, and without giving Harry time to prepare, he said, "Legillimens!"

A few harmless real memories flashed before him again, before Harry tamped them down, bringing up the image of himself flying on his broom. The Quidditch pitch was slightly distorted at first, as Harry sensed his father attempting to probe further, to break down this false image Harry had playing. Before his father could though, Harry managed to strengthen it, sharpening the image, and after a while, Harry was so engulfed in flying that he had nearly forgotten that his father was still there, trying to break in…

Until everything abruptly stopped.

Harry blinked, the image fully disappearing now as he got his bearings, readjusting again to his actual surroundings.

"Well done," his father said, an almost impressed expression on his face. "It is a start."

Harry smiled then, unable to help it, hardly able to believe that he finally had his first bit of success in Occlumency.

"Thank you, sir."

There was the slightest of smiles on his father's face in return at that.

"Shall we continue?" Severus asked, after a moment.

Harry nodded, shutting his eyes again and feeling more relaxed and confident this time.

Maybe he wasn't completely hopeless after all.

They went on for a few more rounds before his father decided to end the lesson for the day.

That night, Harry had tried to meditate before going to bed, but his attempts were unsuccessful once again.

He'd been tossing and turning for who knows how long now. Every time he closed his eyes, Sirius' face appeared among a green light, frozen in an almost smile as he stumbled back into the flowing veil and disappeared out of sight. Bellatrix's cackling echoed in the distance.

Everything is your fault!

No amount of meditating or Occlumency seemed to work, at least for tonight. Every time he tried to clear the image from his mind, it seemed to find its way back and cling on tighter, the flash of green burning the inside of his eyelids.

After the fourth time jolting awake, Harry gave up trying to get any rest. His mind didn't seem to want any. He slid out of bed and tiptoed downstairs intending on getting a glass of water for his parched mouth. He was so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice the warm flicker of the fire in the sitting room when he walked by.

"Harry?"

The sudden voice made Harry nearly jump out of his skin.

He swiveled in place toward the sound of the voice and saw his father sitting in an armchair facing the fireplace, an open potions journal resting on his lap.

"I-I was just going to get a glass of water," Harry said, gesturing faintly towards the kitchen, meeting Severus' inquiring gaze.

His father's eyes narrowed, dark eyes sweeping over Harry, no doubt taking in his bloody lip and sweat soaked nightshirt. Harry wished he had the forethought to change out of the shirt before he came down, but that thought had never even occurred to him until now. Harry lowered his eyes, shivering slightly from his cold nightshirt and fidgeting with a loose thread under his father's scrutiny.

"Did it have anything to do with the Dark Lord?"

Harry released a small breath and shook his head. "Not this time, no."

His father quickly closed the distance between them and gently took Harry's chin between his forefinger and thumb, easing Harry's head from side to side as he examined Harry's bloody lip.

With a wave of his hand, his father summoned a small jar containing the same blue salve that he had used on Harry's scar before and applied it to Harry's bloodied lip. The effects were instantaneous.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Severus asked, releasing Harry's chin once his lip had completely healed and banishing the salve.

Harry looked away, his first instinct was to respond with a resounding no; he just wanted to absolutely forget about it… but then again, he had never spoken in detail about the events before and he supposed talking about it with someone might do some good tonight…

Apparently his father could sense Harry's conflicting thoughts; Severus didn't wait long for a response before he flicked his wand and with a whoosh, Harry's soaked nightshirt was suddenly completely dried. Then, with a firm hand on Harry's shoulder, his father led him over to the other unoccupied armchair beside his own and called for Mimkey, asking her to bring over a glass of water.

Harry nearly chugged the glass of water, realizing just how dry his mouth was.

Then they simply sat in silence for several moments. Harry kept his gaze on the flickering flames in the hearth, not knowing how or where to begin…

"How about a game of wizard's chess?" his father said, startling Harry and breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Er, okay," Harry said, his brows furrowing, "but I'm not really good at it…"

"No matter," his father said, and with a flick of his wand, a chess board with all the chess pieces already set up, appeared on the table between them. "It will provide an adequate distraction for your mind."

Harry nodded, and at Severus' indication, made the first move, directing one of his pawns to move forward two spaces.

"Has your scar been bothering you?" his father asked, giving instructions to one of his own pawns.

Harry absentmindedly reached up to trace the jagged edges of his scar with his fingertips as he looked over the chessboard.

"No more than usual," he answered, with a small shake of his head.

They lapsed into silence then as they focused on the chessboard, neither one speaking except to give directions to their animated chess pieces.

"Checkmate," Harry said after giving his final direction to his queen to win the game, quite surprised that he had somehow managed to beat his father. He had never even been able to win against Ron before.

"Well done," Severus said, with a small nod of approval. "Up for another round?"

"Sure," said Harry, watching the chess pieces reassemble themselves on the board. Maybe he wasn't so awful at wizard's chess after all, but then again, Harry had a feeling that perhaps his father had just been going easy on him.

His suspicions were proving to be true a few moves into the next match, and Harry found himself staring at the board, taking a while longer to contemplate his next move.

"Are you having nightmares regarding the events that transpired at the Ministry recently?" his father asked casually, before giving directions to his knight.

The suddenness of the question caught Harry off guard. He had been so focused on the chess match, that he had forgotten he was supposed to be talking about his nightmares, and Harry stiffened slightly, wondering how his father seemed to somehow know…

"I have seen the memory enough times during the Occlumency lessons to assume that it weighs heavily on your mind," his father said, answering Harry's unspoken question.

Oh, right. Of course. Harry just realized that particular memory had come up quite frequently when he had been under Legilimency, and his father seemed to always end the spell now once it did.

Harry sighed, keeping his eyes on the chessboard as he gave instructions to his waiting knight. He could tell his father was waiting, though Severus didn't push him, allowing Harry to gather his thoughts first, to which Harry was grateful.

"I got a vision that Sirius was being tortured," Harry started slowly, deciding that this was a good place to start. He was intently focusing on the chessboard instead of the memory that he was retelling. "I didn't know who I could ask for help at the time… I was sort of in a panic thinking that Voldemort had Sirius. I was so sure…"

His father stayed mostly silent, except for the occasional whispers to his chess pieces, throughout the retelling of the events that had taken place at the Ministry, letting Harry speak without any interruptions. Harry was fully anticipating for his father to say how utterly foolish, reckless, and irresponsible he was for leading his friends into danger and attempting to rescue Sirius themselves, but it didn't come. Though Harry could feel his father's eyes watching him, he couldn't bring his own to glance up and meet them.

"Then, he just fell through the veil…" Harry released a slow breath, the image of the moment Sirius disappeared into the flowing veil flashing through his mind once again. He paused, willing his voice to remain steady before he continued, "I thought he was just hiding behind the curtain, and I- I waited for him to come back, but he never did…"

Harry drew in a deep breath, trying to calm the turbulent emotions swirling within him as he whispered his next move to continue the chess game. His chess pieces had all turned to face him expectantly at this point— either listening to his story as well or just waiting for his next instructions, Harry couldn't tell— and Harry was glad he had this to somewhat distract him from the memory.

Harry hadn't spoken to anyone in detail about the events since they took place, and he had certainly not wanted to relive them again.

But Harry was grateful that his father was listening quietly and letting him just talk. His friends wouldn't understand and he had felt so isolated. None of them would have been able to understand how he was feeling.

"So it's my fault Sirius died…" Harry murmured, unable to stop the wave of grief that washed over him. "He was there because of me."

There was a slight shake of his father's head, and Harry glanced up, hesitantly meeting his father's dark eyes.

"Black went to save you out of his own accord when he heard you were in trouble; however reckless his actions were in the matter," his father said, as one of his pawns took out one of Harry's. "He was concerned about you and wanted to help."

Harry frowned. "But I wouldn't have needed saving if I didn't stupidly believe that vision," he said, running a hand down his face.

"You were tricked by a master Legilimens, any one of us would have fallen for it without the proper Occlumency skills," Severus said, contemplating his next move. After giving orders to his queen, his father returned his gaze back to Harry. "All the more reason to continue practicing. Your skills have been improving in the lessons."

Harry nodded, taking in his father's words as he moved his knight. But if only he had practiced and learned Occlumency when he needed to. Then, maybe Harry would have noticed that the vision was a trap, and Sirius wouldn't have needed to come save him, and Sirius would still be alive…

"You are not responsible for the actions of others," his father said, his words cutting through Harry's thoughts.

"I know, but—"

"Did you cast the curse?"

Harry blinked. "No, but—"

"Did you intentionally cause direct harm in any way?"

"Of course not—"

"Then it was not your fault," Severus said, emphasizing each word. "The blame lies with the Dark Lord and Bellatrix. To blame oneself for their actions is absolving them of their guilt."

Harry considered his father's words, mulling them over in his mind as he watched his pawn being attacked by his father's knight. He didn't want anybody else to get hurt or die because they happened to be around him or close to him.

"The prophecy says one of us will have to take the other out in the end… because neither could live while the other survives," Harry said softly, his fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his nightshirt. He sighed, "I really don't know how they expect me to be able to defeat him…"

Harry hadn't allowed himself to dwell too much on the prophecy since Dumbledore had revealed the full contents of it to him. It seemed impossible. There was simply no way around it. To kill or be killed… How could Harry even hope to stand a chance against such a powerful, dark wizard like Voldemort? It was with sheer dumb luck that he had managed to survive all those encounters over the years. And if Dumbledore hadn't come to help them at the Ministry, Harry was rather certain that he and his friends wouldn't have made it out of there alive…

"If you believe you will be fighting this battle alone, you are sorely mistaken."

Harry couldn't help looking up towards his father at that. There was a glint of determination in his father's dark eyes; a look so similar to the look Harry had seen in his mother's memory from so long ago when his father recalled the prophecy to her for the first time.

"But he's after me…"

"I'm well aware, however, you do not need to face this alone, Harry," his father said. "You have help."

Harry swallowed, his eyes lowering, realizing then how much he needed to hear those words.

Was this what every other kid felt when they had a problem and they knew they could rely on their parents to help them get through it? To know that you have someone by your side that could be depended upon and were able to share the burdens with?

Was this what it truly felt like to have a parent?

It was such a foreign concept. To know that he had someone who he could count on to be there for him when he needed it... Someone, a parent, beside him to help him and guide him in this battle that seemed to Harry, completely unwinnable. The feeling was so foreign to him that Harry didn't know quite how to respond, but it seemed to lessen the weight off his shoulders considerably. For the first time since he had heard the prophecy in its entirety, Harry finally felt as if he had a chance at actually defeating Voldemort, even as slight as that chance might be.

"Checkmate," his father said, ending the chess game, and bringing Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry blinked, looking down at the chessboard.

Well that was rather quick, Harry thought. He was definitely going easy on me in the first round.

"I suggest you get some more rest; you are going to need the strength to visit the Weasleys tomorrow," his father said, standing and clearing away the chessboard with a flick of his wand.

Harry stood as well, cleared his throat and glanced towards his father, eyebrows furrowing. "I'm going to the Weasley's tomorrow?"

"Yes, it has been arranged," said Severus. "I presume your friends are no doubt eager to see you."

And Harry was actually quite eager to see them as well, but also slightly nervous as it would be the first time they would be seeing him with his true appearance.

"Thank you," Harry said, and after a split second hesitation, added, "Dad."

The word still felt foreign on his tongue, and Harry didn't know if he would ever get used to saying it, but he realized he had been unconsciously using it more often lately. Sometimes it would slip out and surprise him.

His father's hand landed on Harry's shoulder and he gave a small squeeze at that. Harry didn't hesitate quite as long this time before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around his father, finding comfort and strength as strong arms enveloped him in return a moment later.

Severus stayed seated in his armchair, gazing at the flickering flames in the fireplace, long after his son had left. The conversation he had with Harry tonight was still replaying in his mind.

He hadn't been aware of the impact that Sirius Black's death had on Harry. Severus had witnessed the memory of Sirius Black disappearing through the veil plenty of times now during the Occlumency lessons and each time this particular memory appeared, Severus noticed that Harry seemed to lose control of his focus. Of course, Severus knew that Harry had been close to the man, but to see how much guilt and burden his son carried on his thin shoulders caused Severus' chest to tighten.

His son had been weighed down with guilt and burdens much too heavy for his young shoulders to bear alone. It was a start for now, and Severus wanted to make it clear that he was going to be there for him, every step of the way from now on as much as Severus could be. His son had been alone far too long, with no proper adult to help guide him in this battle, and Severus silently thanked any deity out there listening that Harry had managed to survive every encounter relatively unscathed thus far.

If anything, Severus was determined to help his son defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. Because his son would survive this war if Severus had any say in it. He would do anything in his power to ensure that it happens. For Lily and for Harry. Because now he had something to live for after the war; a future with his son without the presence of the Dark Lord looming over them. Because the past had already been taken from them, and Severus was not going to let the same happen to their future.

And Severus was pleased that the Occlumency lessons were progressing, albeit a bit slower than Severus would have liked, though he had no intentions to push Harry further. His son had made significant progress in their latest session and Severus hoped that after their discussion about his nightmares, further progress on his Occlumency skills would continue. Though the memories that came up of Harry with those insufferable Muggles never failed to infuriate him…

With a snap, Severus shut his potions journal and stood, deciding to turn in for the night. He better get some rest as well; he had a rather important meeting to attend to tomorrow and he certainly wanted to be well rested for that.

Those Muggles won't know what hit them.

A/N: Well, hello there! Yes, I'm alive, and I hope you guys are doing well too! I apologize for the delay; I know it's been a very long time since the last update, but I haven't forgotten about this story. So much has changed since the last update; Life has been a bit hectic with work and everything has been a bit crazy, but I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things soon.

Thank you so much to everyone who've read, followed, favorited, and reviewed this story! Please check out my other two stories that I've written in this AU if you're wanting some more cute family moments with Lily, Severus, and little Harry.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

Please let me know what you think! :)

Until next time,

~Amy