In today's installment, this writer has a massive headache. I think my body is telling me to sleep, so I shall do so after posting. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and I apologize for any errors.

Helping Hand

Harry yawned. He opened his eyes and yawned again. He was alert, but his felt mind blissfully blank. No sooner it registered, Harry sat upright and his muscles protested. Badmouthing Snape, he rubbed his eyes furiously with another resounding yawn.

Despite the drowsiness he felt, his body hummed pleasantly. He hadn't slept so well in what felt like an eternity. The time following Cedric's death had been full of nights of restless sleep. Today, was different. It made him wary to step out of the room. Falling back to sleep sounded like a wonderful idea all of the sudden.

He pushed the covers away. Then, he realized his clothes had been changed. He blushed. He'd been so tired he hadn't bothered to even shower. Mrs. Weasley must have come up at some point. Groaning, he shook his head. It's going to be a long day.

But, it doesn't have to be.

With a plan formulating in his mind he began preparing. Half an hour's time, he was back on the bed with wet hair and a fresh change of clothes. Uneasily, he decided, he would remain as he was. His temper would stay under control regardless of the interrogation that was surely waiting for him from the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place.

Closing his eyes, he took steadying breaths just as he'd seen Snape do only yesterday. Don't think. Don't feel. Anxiousness began seeping into his thoughts. What would he tell Sirius? How would he explain yesterday's events? Had he seen the mess they had made in his study? What had Snape told Dumbledore?

Catching his increasingly uneven breaths, he stopped. Don't think! Taking control of his breathing again, he recalled the night prior. The feeling of his tired bones and how relaxed his body felt once he fallen into bed. A staggered breath left him as he focused on the soreness of his muscles and the fuzziness in his head. The proof of his overindulgence of sleep.

His mind unwilling to give it further thought, he opened his eyes. Shortly, he walked down several stairs and finally stepped into the kitchen where it was only Mr and Mrs Weasley sipping some tea. Blinking, he glanced the window, "Er . . . Good morning?"

The window that allowed outside light displayed only the early morning twilight. Mrs. Weasley had been speaking in quick and low tones to Mr. Weasley. Upon Harry's arrival, she stood, "Harry dear, you're up early! Is everything alright? Are you hungry? Come, sit. I can make something for you-"

A warmth filled his heart as she pushed him down into the chair she had been sitting on. With more tenderness than he had allowed himself before, he held her hand, "I'm okay, Mrs. Weasley. I didn't realize how early it is."

Mrs Weasley glanced down at their hands. Her eyes softened and Harry was horrified to see them tear up. Abruptly, he removed his hands from her. She blinked and with equal tenderness patted his cheek, "A cup of tea, then?"

Unable to speak, he nodded.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, "How are you feeling, Harry."

Harry understood there was more to the question than Mr. Weasley's casual tone suggested, but there was a sort of genuine curiosity in his voice that eased Harry.

"Okay, I think."

Mr. Weasley's eyes crinkled with humor, "Hm, a stupid question of to ask, I suppose."

Harry agreed, but his lips curled just a bit, "I have been asked that question a lot lately."

Mrs Weasley poured him some tea and pushed scones closer to him. Harry mumbled a quick thanks as he reached for one. He hadn't had dinner last night.

"Just don't tell the rest," said Mrs. Weasley. Mischief was present in her eyes.

Harry sipped his tea. It felt so odd to sit with just the two of them, but he supposed no one else would be awake so early. Curiously, he asked Mr. Weasley, "Are you working early, Mr. Weasley?"

He hummed, "Yes, I have a couple things to take care of. Nothing to worry about."

Harry nibbled on his bread. The Weasley's exchanged a look. Mrs. Weasley spoke carefully, "I went into the study last night."

Harry's heart skipped a beat.

Mr. Weasley added, "Professor Dumbledore said that your Occlumency training took a more physical approach."

Relaxing minutely, Harry set his scone down.

"Professor Snape asked us to speak with you if we had any questions about your lesson."

"Is that all he said?" Harry asked quietly.

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. Harry supposed she didn't like Snape very much either.

Mr. Weasley watched him thoughtfully, "Only that the contents of your lessons were not his to divulge with us."

He kept his word. It made Harry uncomfortable to realize. Harry thought back on the lesson. He understood Occlumency no more than he had the day before. He stared back at Mrs. Weasley's displeased face. Hesitantly, he responded, "He saw a lot of my memories."

The Weasley's frown. Harry pressed on carefully sifting through the lesson, "From what I understand, Occlumency is meant to protect you from people attacking your mind—if Voldemort realizes that he can look at my memories . . ."

Harry frowned. If Harry could learn to read Voldemort's mind, wouldn't it be good? He was already doing it in his sleep.

He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!

He clenched his jaw. Inhaling deeply, he said, "Sn- Professor Snape says that it's too dangerous to know anything in case Voldemort tries to attack my mind."

Mrs. Weasley was essentially scowling, "How did Professor Snape show you to defend yourself from that?"

Harry shrugged, "Curse him."

Mr. Weasley choked on his tea.

"I'm supposed to clear my mind before." Harry blushed unwilling to elaborate on a concept he truly did not understand, "When he gets into my mind, I'm supposed to kick him out by any means."

The Weasley's shared long looks. Mr. Weasley's stare was long and penetrating, "Harry, to say that room is a disaster seems like an understatement."

Harry opened his mouth with an apology that shined on his face. Mr. Weasley shook his head. His voice was clear and calm as he spoke before Harry could, "You're not in trouble, Harry. We just want to make sure that you weren't having problems with Professor Snape."

Harry held back a snort. He had plenty of problems with Snape.

"You worried us yesterday, Harry." Mrs. Weasley said softly.

Harry blushed under her concerned gaze, "I didn't mean to. It's just Professor Snape surprised me, is all."

"How so?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Harry shrugged. He wasn't sure himself, but as he replayed the night, he found himself saying, "He was pretty decent about the lesson."

"Snape being decent? You're pulling my leg!" said Ron skeptically from the kitchen entrance.

Ginny took a seat beside her father. Unlike Ron, who looked like he hadn't bothered to look in the mirror before coming down, Ginny appeared alert and ready to start her day. Mrs. Weasley looked ready to scold Ron.

"Well, decent is probably too strong." Harry struggled to think. Truth was Snape had been nasty, but at the same time Harry had the nagging thought that the man had genuinely been trying to instruct him, if nothing else for his mother's sake.

He furrowed his brows. Snape had gone mental after the last memory of her screams before death. A vengeful part of him rejoiced deep within his chest. He killed her. Let him hear what his actions had led to.

Yet, a nagging sensation bothered him. Yes, Voldemort had killed his mother after hearing the prophecy from Snape, but he hadn't been after his mom. Lily had died because she had refused to step out of the way of Voldemort's wand and his true target, Harry. The thought made him nauseous.

Dumbledore had said the prophecy didn't refer to Harry specifically. It could have been Neville of all people. It had been Voldemort's choice of Harry that sealed Harry's fate. It had been Voldemort that killed Lily. The difference was Voldemort wouldn't care.

Harry wasn't blind. Lily Potter was a sore spot for the Professor. Anytime, she came up Snape would completely lose it. And, Harry realized, that unlike Petergrew whom had groveled at his feet and made excuses for his treachery. Snape had done no such thing. Not that he could picture Snape groveling, but the man had accepted Harry's anger directed at him on Lily's behalf without lifting a finger. While the man had no apparent remorse over James' death or Harry's pain, the guilt over his involvement in Lily's demise was abundantly clear.

Breathing deeply, he found himself horrified that once again he was making scenarios. His eyes lingered to Ginny. Her brown eyes were watching him expectantly. Merlin forbid, Ginny married Draco and had a child. And, due to something Harry did, they both were killed leaving an orphan. He couldn't say that he would be too sad Draco was gone. But he knew without a doubt, that Ginny's death would hit him hard. His heart clenched uncomfortably. He was unsure if he would have been able to live with himself to be the cause for his friend's death, even if they weren't particularly close.

He was hit with the strength of bludger. Snape had truly loved his mother. In what capacity, he refused to think about, but he had. Snape had betrayed Voldemort for her. He protected Harry for her. And Harry, he was the vivid image of James if everyone was to be believed.

Harry felt queasy.

"We don't get on well," He said slowly, "He doesn't like me very much . . ."

He said this for the older Weaseley's benefit. The room stayed quiet as if to allow him the room to think his next words. Snape had asked him to decide last night. It made sense now. Why Snape had given him the liberty to hit him, to destroy that room. Sneaky bastard wanted to relieve his guilt, but also . . .

Snape was trying to help, he thought bitterly. The taste was sour in his mouth. He didn't trust Snape, but he could.

"Professor Snape and I," Harry said without looking at anyone, "are going to make this Occlumency thing work."

Ron was unconvinced. Meeting Ginny's eyes because she sat directly in front of him, he caught a glimpse of concern there. Paying it no mind, he added, "I don't want to stay in the dark."

"Harry . . ." Mrs. Weasley started to talk and was interrupted by Sirius, "You shouldn't have to either."

Her eyes narrowed, "Harry is a child, Sirius."

"He's also old enough to understand what's going on, Molly." Sirius said firmly.

Hermione flicked her gaze back and forth between the two as she took a seat at the table. Ginny whispered in her ear and Harry watched with interest as understanding filtered through her expression.

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat, "Maybe, we can finish this conversation some other time. Harry, I'm glad your lesson with Professor Snape went well."

"It went well?" George asked as he grabbed a peach from the fruit basket.

Fred leaned his hand on Ron's chair, "I suppose Harry only looked like death, so . . ."

"Well done, Harrykinns." Fred grinned.

Hermione huffed as Ginny and Ron shared bouts of giggles. Harry shook his head. Sirius pulled a chair next to him, "Everything was okay, then?"

Harry was mindful of the fact Mrs. Weasley was still watching him. He nodded, "Yeah, Snape wasn't anymore pleasant than usual and we didn't have the best conversations, but I'm learning."

Maybe not Occlumency, but Harry thought it best not mention that. After all, he did learn to clear his mind . . . Sort of, maybe. Sirius nodded and leaned forward. In a soft voice that he knew was just barely loud enough for Mrs. Weasley to hear, but not the entire room that was still bickering even as Mr. Weasley attempted to diffuse the argument, he asked, "Dumbledore said that Snape allowed you to defend yourself from him reading your mind by any means?"

Harry nodded.

Sirius grinned, "You give him a good smacking?"

Mrs. Weasley pressed her lips tightly together. The retort on her lips died as her pot began boiling over.

"He would have wiped the floor with me if he'd wanted to." Harry grumbled, embarrassed.

Sirius smacked his back reassuringly, "He's also older and a sneaky bugger."

"James and I, used to really get under his skin. He could never get the best of us; especially, when we were together." His eyes were lively.

Harry frowned, he couldn't even disarm the man. Noticing his dwindling mood, Sirius added, "Harry, I saw the study. You put on a good fight and Snape didn't look unaffected. I would say you did a good job and I reckon James would think the same."

Harry perked up at that, "You think so?"

"I know it."

They grinned at each other.

"Im sorry, you know. About your study." Harry said in a louder tone that caught the tables attention.

Sirius waved it off, "You should have seen what I did to the laundry room once, I really thought my mother was going to kill me that time."

Fred and George turned to each other and back to Sirius, "Oh, do tell."

"Enlighten these innocent souls with the mischief of your youth." Fred said.

Sirius barked a laugh. Mrs, Weasley shook her head, "Sirius Black, don't you dare."

He raised his hands in peace, "My hands are tied boys."

When Mrs. Weasley turned around, he mouthed, 'Later.'

"How was it really, Harry?"

Hermione asked him as they scrubbed yet another cabinet caked with dust. Ron and Ginny had been assigned the Library much to their and Hermione's disappointment.

Harry shrugged, "Alright, it was Snape."

She side eyed him as she soaked her rag in soapy water, "You looked bad yesterday."

"Everyone keeps saying it, so it must be true." Even Harry wasn't sure what he meant by that.

Hermione didn't seem to put much meaning in his words. Instead, she said, "Harry, if Dumbledore wants you to take these lessons, it must be for a reason."

Harry nodded, "I know."

His answer seemed to unsettle her. Her hands hesitated as she rinsed her rag. Chewing on her lip, she was holding herself back.

"So, you're okay . . . Having lessons with Snape."

Harry gave her a long look.

She had the decency took look embarrassed. Harry scrubbed harder. Hermione was silent for several minutes. Minutes that Harry used to breath in and out, to focus on the task on hand, and not on the fact that Hermione was practically shaking with restraint.

Slapping his rag on the soapy bucket beside him, he glared at her, "What is it that you want to ask, Hermione?"

Her eyes were huge. A tiny amount of hurt in them that Harry ignored. She wiped her palms on her jeans, "I would have expected you to complain about how unfair it is and that Snape is a bad teacher . . ."

"Do you want me to complain about it?" Harry asked her ironically.

"No, but I find it odd."

She would not leave it alone and Harry realized then that he really did not want to talk about Snape or his lessons. Fighting the urge to smack himself for his brilliance, he told her, "It's Occlumency."

She looked confused. Harry sighed, "Occlumency practice. Snape says I need to control my emotions and clear my head . . . So I'm trying be calm."

It wasn't technically a lie, but Hermione was quick, "You've only had one lesson and you spent the whole week before brooding, not wanting to talk to anyone."

Harry's face darkened. Hermione seemed to regret saying anything. Sighing, he told her, "Snape laid it on thick yesterday. He was nasty as usual, but his lesson worked. I told you guys that Dumbledore wanted my mind protected from Voldemort's. What I didn't tell you was that it's because I've been having dreams about what he's thinking. He's afraid once Voldemort realizes there's a connection, he'll try to use it."

Hermione paled, "And Snape can help you."

Harry nodded, "Dumbledore wants him to do it."

Harry didn't go into more details and she thankfully did not ask.

"Harry! Hermione! Come down for lunch!" Mrs. Weasley called for them.

Nearly seven on Thursday, Snape was late.

Harry was playing a game of exploding snap with Ginny and Ron while Hermione was curled on a couch with a book in hand and crookshanks on her lap. The twins had disappeared sometime after lunch. Mrs. Weasley was knitting and apparently attempting to teach Sirius with great difficulty which she seemed to relish for her eyes watched him with fondness at his stumbling hands.

Harry supposed they must have sorted out their differences.

"Ha!" Ron exclaimed triumphantly. Ginny scowled.

The floo flared. Snape glided into Grimmauld Place. Sirius dropped the needles on his lap. Snape sneered at the sight and the game of exploding snap was effectively over. Sirius lazily crossed one leg over the other, "You're late."

"You're skills of observation are astounding." Snape said blankly.

Mrs. Weasley looked sour again. Sirius leaned back on the armchair, "I really had hoped that you had gotten hit by the knight bus on your way here or something."

"I had hoped you would rot in Azkaban, but we're meant for disappointment it seems."

Mrs. Weasley cut through. "Ron, Ginny, Hermione, go upstairs."

"What about Harry?" Ron asked. Ginny was beginning to protest as well, but a sharp look from their mother had Hermione pulling them up the stairs with a look of apology toward Harry. Mrs. Weasley turned back to the two men. Sirius was now fingering his wand and Snape had a hand in his robes. The floo flared again. This time Dumbledore walked through. The twinkle in his eyes dying as he sensed the atmosphere of the room.

Blue eyes looking between the three adults. Harry watched with curiosity as Dumbledore called firmly, "Severus."

The man tensed just the smallest amount and dragged his eyes away from Sirius to the headmaster. Upon spotting the sharpness in the old man's eyes, Snape's jaw tightened and he crossed his arms. Wand nowhere in sight. Sirius and Mrs. Weasley relaxed. She was not pleased, however.

"Sirius." Sirius' satisfied smirk died as Dumbledore added, "Must I remind you both that we must learn to work together despite our differences."

Sirius' eyes were dark and Snape was staring resolutely at a wall. Dumbledore sighed, "Molly, please excuse our delayed arrival. Severus and I had some business to discuss."

"What about?" Sirius asked.

"Nothing that concerns you, Black." Snape snarled.

Sirius nearly jumped from his chair. Harry thought Dumbledore looked annoyed. Far more calm than Mrs. Weasley, Dumbledore addressed Sirius, "The contents of our discussion are between Severus and I."

Snape's eyes glinted. Dumbledore then said to Mrs. Weasley, "Any relevant Order information will be discussed at the next meeting."

The woman nodded.

"Now, Harry, I hope you haven't been waiting too long?" Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling again, "I imagine you have better things to do with your time than wait."

Harry blinked, "Between cleaning the library and filthy room number four there is not a boring moment, sir."

Harry thought he imagined Snape's soft snort, but the twinkling in Dumbledore's eyes told him otherwise.

"Now, let us not waste more time. Molly, Sirius, I will be sitting in for Harry's lesson today at Severus' request. I ask you to avoid disturbing us as Occlumency does require much concentration and even the smallest of distractions can be detrimental. Harry, if you would join us."

Snape asked Dumbledore to be present, why? Harry hesitated, but followed behind. Mrs. Weasley and Sirius looked relieved. Harry stared hard at Snape's back.

Walking into the study, Harry was surprised to see the room set back. As well as it had been anyway, with the exception of the red loveseat now glaring colorfully among the dark decor. Harry was sure the look on his face matched Snape's: a thought that only deepened his grimace. Dumbledore sat on it with a flourish and motioned them to take a seat.

Snape took the armchair and Harry was left with the opposing couch. Hands over his lap, Dumbledore began, "I must say my boy, you did quite a number on this room. "

Harry averted his eyes. Staring firmly at the floor, he said nothing. It had been but two days since he last spoken to the older wizard, so why was he feeling like this? Why did it feel like Dumbledore . . . Why did it feel uncomfortable?

The man sighed, "I don't suppose I can persuade you to speak to me? I must confess that you have taken me by surprise, Harry. In more ways than one, but I understand you must be angry at me. Rightfully so-"

Snape hissed, "Surely he has plenty reason."

Dumbledore silenced Snape with a sharp stare. Harry watched with the two men with confusion. Snape stood from his seat, his back to the both of them as he opted to lean on the back of the sofa. Dumbledore sighed, his attention reverting back to Harry.

"There were many times . . . I had many opportunities . . . to tell you what you have learned in the past few days. Sirius, though unaware of the entire contents of the prophecy, has been insistent that we inform you of as much of your situation as we can, but I have committed the mistake that Lord Voldemort has many times over accused his victims of."

Though Dumbledore watched him intently, Harry dared not speak.

"You see, after you faced Lord Voldemort the first time through the body of Quirinus Quirrell . . . I thought it was much too soon. How could a boy of merely eleven, just barely dipping his toes into the magical world . . . How could I place such a heavy burden upon his shoulders? Harry, you have heard the first half of the prophecy . . . you understand what the contents led to."

Harry shifted his gaze to Snape whom had gone rigid still. Dumbledore sighed, "I ask that you forgive this old man for his weakness. I ask you that you work diligently with professor Snape to achieve mastery in Occlumency because it is only due to him that you have learned the contents of the prophecy and it will be only through him that you learn the contents of it all."

"Why?" Harry finally snapped, "Why him? Why do I have to beg to know what I should? It's my life professor!"

"It should be obvious, Potter."

It was said softly. Bitterness underlined the words. Harry glared at Snape as the man turned his obsidian eyes to his. Dumbledore closed his eyes, seemingly too tired. "I could have told you after your second year. Surely you had proven by then truly capable of bravery and strength, running head first to the aid of a friend. Your third year . . ."

"I don't understand."

"You're an imbecile, Potter." Snape said sharply. Blue and green eyes glared at him. Snape crossed his arms, "I don't understand why you bother to give Potter artful explanations when the boy clearly has neither the subtlety or intelligence to read between the lines. Surely even the dimwitted Weasley would be able to tell you what the headmaster has so clearly painted for you."

"Severus . . ."

"Oh yeah," Harry grit, "What is it then?"

Snape snarled, "He loves you, you simpleton!"

Harry's eyes widened, his neck snapped to Dumbledore. The man was looking at Snape with an unfathomable expression. Shifting his eyes back to Snape, he spoke without thinking, "What would you know about love?"

Rage sparked in the man's eyes and flicked out even faster than it had started.

"Harry," Dumbledore said sternly, "Professor Snape speaks only the truth."

Harry deflated. The older wizard carried on, "It is my selfish affection of you that continues to prevent me from placing more burden on your shoulders. I wish to spare you from -"

"Professor, I-"

"Let me finish Harry. I am aware that perhaps you will not understand my reasons, that perhaps I am being unfair to you, but I ask you that you attempt to understand anyway. Both as the leader of the Order and as someone who cares about you, I wish not to discuss certain information with you at this time."

"It's not fair." Harry muttered thoroughly defeated. His heart torn apart by his own inability to argue with the headmaster's sincerity.

"No, I do not suppose it is."

Eyes entirely devoid of emotion, Snape cut the silence dryly, "I have neither the desire nor time to continue endulging you two in your sentimentalism. Potter has a hearing involving his potential expulsion with the entirety of wizamagot present if Lucius Malfoy is to be believed, and Potter has long ways to go before he masters Occlumency."

Dumbledore nodded firmly, "Harry, I will not risk Professor Snape's life anymore than I already do."

Harry blinked. It wasn't mean, but Dumbledore's voice had an edge that he had never used address Harry. He almost wanted to be upset, but confusion settled instead. In that moment, as he stared at Dumbledore's eyes, he saw the man pleading Harry to understand. Snape watched Dumbledore intensely, as if the words being spoken were in a language he did not understand. Dumbledore continued sternly, green and blue eyes locked together, "Harry, my greatest wish is that you and Professor Snape learn to get along."

Snape and Harry looked at each other dubiously, mutual scowls framing their lips. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled unexpectedly, "I believe it is time I take a different approach."

Dumbledore clapped his hands, "Very well, boys. To start off, I will be representing you at your trial, Harry."

Harry felt a weight off his shoulders. Dumbledore turned grim, "Because of how similar your patronus are, the easiest solution would be to claim that it had not been you, but professor Snape whom casted the charm."

The doe. Harry had forgotten. Snape looked grim. Harry felt his hope fade, "But?"

"If we reveal that Professor Snape can cast the patronus charm, it will raise suspicion-"

"Why would it?"

"Death Eaters cannot cast Patronus." Dumbledore said simply, "The magic, or the theory behind it, for the Patronus Charm is very complex. Not only is the charm difficult to cast, you are well aware, but the memories required to fuel it are of essence."

"I struggled to find a good memory." Harry mentioned thoughtlessly. Glancing at Snape, he blushed in embarrassment. Dumbledore nodded, "Many do. It's in the nature of the magic. The positive energy surrounding the memory must be untainted and whole."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. Confusion layered his eyes.

"Let me ask you this, Harry. Do you understand the nature of dark magic?"

Severus scoffed. Harry scowled, "It hurts."

Dumbledore nodded, "It does, but more than anything: Dark magic feeds on negative energy. Where light magic like a patronus will use your positivity and protect you with it. Dark magic will use your negativity and use it to destroy others and yourself from within. Persistent use of the dark arts leaves scars on the soul that do not heal."

Harry glanced at Snape, "What makes him different?"

Snape was actively ignoring them at this point. Dumbledore actually smiled, "Professor Snape is not nearly a scary as he tries to appear."

"That's enough." Snape groused. As if offended by the own sound of his voice, Snape cleared his voice and hissed, "As neither of you seem to have a sense of urgency, I shall remind you. We need to prepare. No one is aware, no one should be aware, that I can cast a patronus. Hence, the easy way out is out of the question. When the trial comes, you Potter must ensure that you not reveal that I aided you in anyway. In fact, I was not present at all!"

"What? But you could vouch for me! Say that there were dementors, that I had no choice!"

Dumbledore sighed, "You will be standing before the entire wizamagot. Some one those people have questionable ties. It is for the sake of Professor Snape's safety and continued ability to spy on Voldemort, that his involvement in your safety is not discovered."

Harry scowled, "Well, Mrs. Figg and Mundungus both saw him."

"And I have talked to both Mrs. Figg and Mundungus." Dumbledore's tone darkened so much so that Harry almost regretted bringing it up.

"So then, what do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. The less you open your big mouth, the better."

"Severus." Dumbledore sighed.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one getting kicked out from Hogwarts."

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, "Harry."

"No, I'm only in mortal danger."

"Enough!" Dumbledore snapped, "No one is getting kicked out and no one is dying. Harry, I will do the talking. Just answer when spoken to and avoid mentioning Professor Snape. Now, I am going to sit back and let the both of you get on with the lesson."

Both man and child stared at the headmaster, Snape reacted first, "Well, Potter? I believe I asked you a question."

"You-"

Dark eyes regarded him coolly as Harry cut himself off. The last time they had been in the same room together, Snape has asked Harry if he could handle the truth. Darting his eyes toward Dumbledore, he wondered if Snape had spoken to him about it. The look on his face was unreadable.

A week ago, Harry would have expected Snape to be making an attempt at humiliating him. But with great surprise, Harry struggled to understand why his gut feeling was skeptical to believe it. Harry glared at his potions Professor.

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

Snape scowled, "Very well, on the count of three."

"Wait a-" Harry's eyes widened.

"One.

"I don't know-"

"Two."

"Hey-"

"Legillimens!"

Harry was weeding the garden on a clear day. Sweat was dripping down his back as it soaked through his shirt under the beaming sun.

Aunt Petunia was scolding him for burning the bacon. Harry stumbled off the stool he was perched on. The wooden spoon his aunt held barely missed the back of his head.

Dudley was surrounded an ocean of birthday gifts. Harry watched as the chubby boy kicked his feet in a tantrum.

Harry was unwrapping a coat-hanger.

It was Christmas Day and Ron had just opened a gift. He and Harry both held a pair of Weasley sweaters.

Hermione's periwinkle dress glimmered in the light as she and Ron yelled at each other, both faces full of frustration-

Abruptly, the memories ceased to play and the room came back into focus, and Snape with it too unfortunately.

"That was horrific." Said Snape blandly. "Have you truly no skill or is your ego so inflated you expect me sit back and watch the movie of your fascinating life?"

Harry's face shined with moisture. Clenching his fists, he snarked, "We can watch yours instead, but it may be too gory for my taste."

They glared at each other.

"Gentlemen." Dumbledore voiced distantly. Harry blinked and even Snape startled. He had forgotten the old wizard was in the room with them, "Perhaps, Harry requires more preparation than three seconds."

"The dark lord, will not give him the luxury of a even second." Snape responded blankly.

"Voldemort," Snape tensed at the name. Dumbledore carried on unfazed, "Will also not be nearly as gentle."

Gentle? Harry thought skeptically. Snape scowled as if the word insulted him, "Is that your permission to torture the boy mentally?"

Harry paled. Dumbledore looked at Snape from over his half moon lenses, "Severus."

They stayed in a silent impasse for several seconds. Snape turned back to Harry, "Clear your mind."

"What does that even mean!"

"Does nothing stick to your head boy," Snape groused, "Think nothing, feel nothing!"

"Try to be calm, Harry." Dumbledore added softly from the sideline.

"Oh well, when you put it like that . . ." Harry trailed off sarcastically.

"Draw your wand," Harry stared at Snape confused. Snape snarled, "We have not all night! Draw your wand, clearly I must have not exhausted you enough yesterday."

Harry scoffed, "My last thought was how tired my body felt."

Snape hesitated. Then, he said, "When I attempt to invade your mind, attempt to recall that. On the count of three. One-"

"How is that supposed to help?"

"Two."

"But-"

"Legillimens!"

Harry watched memories fly by in bits and flashes. All of them seemed to blend and blur together with the exception of those Snape lingered on. To Harry's horror, Snape stumbled upon his sleepless memories. Harry watched himself toss and turn; sweat dripping from his face and neck. He watched himself scream himself awake and heard uncle Vernon yell at him.

Dudley gave a harsh bark of laughter. His face twisted into a parody of desperation as his voice raised several pitches. Whimpering pathetically, Dudley begged, "Don't kill Cedric! Don't kill Cedric!"

Dudley's voice darkened maliciously, "Who's Cedric - your boyfriend?"

Harry shook his head. His memories were playing in front of him vividly and Snape had faded to the background. Clenching his jaw, Harry forced himself to focus not on Dudley's mocking, but on his own body. Loosening his muscles as best he could, he felt his limbs. The residual ache of his muscles became his focal point. Slowly, the memory playing began shifting. Now, he was lying in bed, eyes heavy with exhaustion and too tired to think of anything other than his aching knees and hands.

Harry blinked as Snape came into focus. Snape's gaze pierced his, "Is your cousin always a despicable human or is that exclusive to you?"

If even Snape thought Dudley was despicable, Harry reckon his cousin ought to reevaluate his life choices. Harry muttered, "Must run in the family."

"Indeed."

Harry had the odd thought Snape was not referring to Harry. It was proven right when Snape added distantly, ". . . Lily . . . had a kind heart . . ."

Harry felt his heart skip. He wanted to be jealous that Snape had known his mother, but he instead felt a sort of hope. Harry spoke without thinking, "Aunt Petunia must have got the bad genes."

Snape's dark gaze twinkled with amusement. Harry observed the edge of the man's lips curve into a slight smirk. It was fascinating how quickly the man's expression cleared. Somewhat stiffly, the man crossed one arm over other. The man's index finger lightly caressed the wand in his hand as he peered at Harry thoughtfully. Harry fought every urge to squirm.

"So . . . I did it that time, right?"

Snape raised a brow, "If by it, you mean Occlude, then by absolutely not."

"But I did what you told me too!"

Snape nodded, unperturbed by Harry's accusation. The man turned to Dumbledore, whom he forgotten was present once more. Harry wondered if Dumbledore was doing that purposefully. Snape questioned the man, "I would prefer he understood the basics before attempting this method; however, he lacks the self-discipline for what I ask of him."

Harry glared. Dumbledore nodded, "It appears so."

Both Snape and Harry looked at Dumbledore with surprise. Dumbledore fixed Harry with a solemn expression, "I have always thought that your ability to love was your greatest strength. That has not changed, Harry. However, Occlumency requires the ability and skill to take our thoughts and emotions and make them unreachable to others. You, my boy, wear your heart on your sleeve. I should have expected this to be an issue. That being said, Harry is a talented wizard, Severus. Not too unlike his mother whom you well knew."

Fools who wear their hearts on their sleeves . . .

Snape's fists were clenched so tightly, Harry thought they may bleed. Dumbledore carried on, "If he has proven able to pull forth his own memories forward, then I believe over time he will come to understand the fundamentals."

"He," Harry mocked, "would like an explanation."

"A skilled Occlumence is able to pull memories at will or even create false memories during a mental invasion, so to put it. While this method may seem an easy alternative to occlusion, it is merely a technique to disuade or fool a legilimens from attempting a full attack on the mind. It is the difference of hiding my lemon drops behind a picture frame or casting a concealment charm. Occlusion being the concealment charm." Dumbledore said softly.

Harry frowned, "So this technique is like an aid? You don't need the picture frame if you can cast the charm, but it can buy you some time if you can't right away, but it really doesn't protect anything."

"Precisely." Said twinkling eyes.

Snape flicked his wand. A thick book fell into his hand and he promptly pushed it into Harry's chest, "Read chapter one and fifteen of this book by our next lesson."

Harry looked down at the book, worn and dog eared. Snape and Dumbledore's expressions were expectant. Harry couldn't make out what his own looked liked. Somewhat anxious, he spoke meaningfully, "Yes sir."

Rosy cheeks don't lie to me

Rosy cheeks don't lie to me

I know you want me, I want you too

Come with me, I make dreams come true

The singer leaned forward with a wink toward the crowd and screams of cheer followed. The crowed jumped forward to the beat of the music, inadvertently pushing on the barricades separating them from the stage.

"We have an excitable crowd tonight. Just hang on and hope the barricade stands all night." Said Rhinedd

"Nutjobs. We have psychos that'll step over you if it means a picture with Sir. Pretty Face." The man beside her muttered with disdain. Rhinedd's expression morphed into amusement.

"They're having fun." She replied peacefully, "Aside from the random wacko trying to jump . . ."

As if prompted, a man threw himself over the barricade. She winced as he slammed straight into the shield charm produced by another guard.

"Nutjobs." The man cursed under his breath.

The woman laughed, "You of all people shouldn't judge too harshly."

"What are you on about, Dufort?" The man grumbled defensively.

The woman adjusted the bun that held her dark hair back, "Hm, I seem to remember someone losing his marbles over Celestina Warbeck. This person went as far as to sing to her some of her greatest hits. Screech might be a better descriptor if you ask me though."

In the dark, it was hard to tell but she knew he was blushing. Satisfied with her teasing, she said, "At least, you have off tomorrow, don't you?"

At this, the man grinned, "I'm getting pissed."

Rhinedd looked confused. He rolled his eyes, "Drunk. I'm going to drink my weight in alcohol."

"Ah!" She laughed, "That makes more sense."

"You sure you're from around here?"

The woman shrugged, "That's what my birth certificate says."

"We have a situation. There's a kid dangling from the top of the stage." Rang from the charmed shells in their ears.

The woman turned to the stage and sure enough, a girl no older than thirteen had managed to climb over the stage equipment. Blood drained from her face, "Bloody hell, how-"

The rest of her sentence was unknown to the others as she ran toward the girl. For all her effort, the girl was thankfully unharmed, back on firm ground; and, would remain so if her mother was to be trusted. Considering her ears were still ringing, Rhinedd was inclined to believe it. The rest of the night went on without any further mishaps.

With an exhausted groan, she pulled the band holding her hair together. Sinking her fingers over her scalp, she rolled her neck in circular motions.

"Rhinedd!" Long strands of coppery hair tied back in a ponytail, Ainsley approached her, "It's getting late. We should go."

"But Ainsley, I'm waiting for everyone to go home so I can perform my own concert."

Ainsley offered a toothy grin, "Oh, why didn't you say so earlier. I can be your audience if you want."

Rhinedd held back a snort as she replied, "Yeah, I'm going. Just dragging my feet."

At that, Ainsley frowned, "Everything is going to be okay, Rhinedd."

Rhinedd stared at her friend, "I know. I just . . . Hate this. I hate being a burden."

"You're not." Ainsley said softly, "I thank my lucky stars everyday now that you are okay. So stop moping and let's go. Sebastian is on dinner duty tonight."

"God, I hope his cooking is better than yours. I thought your place was going to end up like mine with all the smoke you were making."

Rhinedd ran as her friend chased her.