Chapter Fifteen: Self-Control

The morning of the Hogsmeade Village trip, I dressed and readied at top speed, exiting through the portrait hole long before Ginny – who was, by nature, a late riser - had roused from her bed. The mood around the corridors was noticeably elevated, and even the professors were looking a bit less grave than usual (Carrows aside, of course, for their expressions were permanently contorted). The castle had been starting to feel somehow claustrophobic, despite the fact that there were fewer students than ever. We all were in desperate need of some fresh air, and an escape from the watchful eyes of the Death Eaters. They would be chaperoning, certainly, but with divided numbers between the castle, the walkway, and the village, so we'd be granted at least some feeling of reprieve.

Filch had arranged his usual queue to exit the building, scanning each eager student in turn with his Secrecy Sensor. Instead of bouncing on his toes, face plastered with a malicious grin, however, he stood slightly hunchbacked, eyes dull as he put the least bit of effort forth in his security checks. Even Mrs. Norris, who could usually be found snaking between pairs of legs trying to sniff out signs of misconduct, was tucked at Filch's feet, looking about as sullen as a cat could manage. Apparently even someone as bitter as Filch was resistant to the Death Eaters.

What little respect I'd had for the caretaker grew tenfold as I breezed through my inspection with barely a onceover and exited the castle onto the dreary grounds. It was an absurdly blustery October morning, the fog laying so thick that I could hardly see five feet in front of me; it was as if I'd stepped directly into the center of a cloud. The weather didn't seem to deter anyone from visiting the village, though, and there was growing chatter all around me, voices increasing right along with spirits the further we separated ourselves from the castle.

I was nearly to the village when the sound of Goyle's garbled tone reached my ears. The combination of the heavy mist and the low rumble of voices made it so I couldn't pinpoint his direction quickly enough to avoid him, and I managed to find myself within an arm's length of the small pack of Slytherins. They were grouped around a light-post, making rude comments at passersby and guffawing obnoxiously. I tried to avoid eye contact, studying the pattern in the cobblestoned path as I hurried past.

"Pierce? Is tha' you?" Goyle scrunched his eyes and tsked disapprovingly. Of course he'd spotted me. Of course he wouldn't waste an opportunity away from teachers to harass me. "Snape le' you out'a the castle, eh? Tha's a lil suspicious, don' ya think?"

"Give it a rest, Goyle. I'm not interested," I shouted, rushing along without a glance behind me. Then came the sound of his heavy footsteps. He was such an irritating pest. Like a little bug that nipped at me incessantly and ignored all efforts to swat it away.

I was ready to tell him as much when his pudgy hand latched onto my shoulder. Fury took instant control. I spung around and, in one motion, I yanked my shoulder roughly out of his grasp and shoved him, hard.

"Don't touch me!" I growled, and with a great show of self-control I stopped myself from jinxing him all the way to Massachusetts.

His sneer deepened. "You're too easy, Pierce. Y'know what my dad's been sayin'? Tha' he caugh' you 'n Snape in his office, makin' plans. Says he's gonna go to the Dark Lord, soon as he go' proof. Says the answers he needs are jus' inside'a tha' pretty red head'a yours."

"Aw, how nice. You think I'm pretty," I said, doing my best impression of sweetness. He made a noise in his throat and grimaced, his haughty tone deflating.

"I did not… the poin' was that…

"The point was that your dad is obsessed with Snape," I cut him off, crossing my arms. A flow of students had been steadily scuffling by, growing briefly silent as they glanced at us with nosy eyes but not daring to get involved. "What is he, jealous or something? He does seem pretty dim… let me guess. Too shoddy of a wizard to get noticed by Voldemort? Trying to con his way up the ranks?"

Goyle made another odd grunt and I thought he might be making an angry face, but instead his increasingly scrunched up nose only reminded me greatly of a pig. "You can't protec' him forever, y'know. My dad'll expose him for wha' he really is, 'n jus' wait… you aren't safe neither."

It was an empty threat. Snape was far more clever than either of the Goyles, and I surely would not expose him. "Is that so?" I said, making my voice as menacing as possible. Given the fury rising in my throat, it wasn't hard to do. "Why don't you go ahead and test that theory. We'll see which one of us isn't safe."

I wished he would. In that moment, I truly wanted him to. To my misplaced delight, he took the bait. With a snorted growl he drew his wand. I reacted, drawing my own and deflecting the red flare he shot at me, then responded with a display of green sparks, several of which connected with him easily. He was nowhere near my level now. A small, irresponsible part of me had been looking forward to a rematch.

"LEVICORPUS!" I cast silently after several more exchanged attacks. Goyle flew up into midair, suspended upside-down as though dangling from an invisible rope. Blood dripped from the corner of his nose down into his eyes and hair. I smirked, a dark, wicked monster inside me yearning to cause him real pain. Desperately, I wanted to give in to the corrosive hatred I had for him. For his father. For the whole disgusting lot of them. The curse was on the tip of my tongue…

"Oi! What's going on down there!" I recognized Goyle Sr.'s voice from afar, immediately succeeded by the patter of at least two or three pairs of footsteps. The dark grin dropped off my face and reappeared on the upside down Goyle's as comprehension sank in.

Fear sobered me up at once. Thankful for the heavy fog, I spun on my heels and darted away as fast as my legs would carry me, uttering a slew of curses under my breath. Stupid. That was stupid and reckless. Goyle hadn't taken the bait. I had. Once again, I was putting Snape's secrets at risk. And all for the sake of wanting childish revenge. Still, the image of Goyle hanging in the air like that was one I would remember fondly for a long, long time.

Spells began to fly past my head, all missing by a wide degree. I kept my wand gripped tightly, unsure whether it would be wise to fight back if they caught up with me. My accidental cardio-training all summer long paid off, however, and several yards later I made it into the village with no sign of the Death Eaters on my tail.

I shoved my way past a number of students who glared or grunted at me in irritation (or worse in the case of Stephen Cornfoot, who shouted something very unpleasant at me when I accidentally launched him into a display of Cackling Crème Pies outside of Honeydukes). Ducking between the shops, I quickly but stealthily moved behind the buildings and slid into the back door of the Sweetshop, confident I hadn't been spotted.

I clicked the door shut behind me, pausing for only a moment to compose myself. My breath was instantly overtaken by a smell of chocolates, candies, and baked goods so intense I could practically taste the sugar. For a second, the scents of the shop took me back to my sixth year, shopping with friends, picking out candies, then going for a Butterbeer at the Hogs Head. But I dismissed the thought at once – I would have chosen Snape over that normalcy a thousand times. Even if it meant sneaking away to secret lessons to protect my mind from being read so that the whole of the Wizarding World wouldn't be taken over.

Looking around the empty storage room, I spotted the cellar stairs right where Snape said they'd be. Following his directions, I illuminated my wand and made my way downstairs into a basement that smelled as musty as the upstairs has smelled sweet. The hole in the stone wall was easy enough to find, concealed only by some stacked crates that moved aside when I whispered the password.

The dirt-carved tunnel was narrow and cobwebbed, with a ceiling so low that the only reasonable thing to do was crawl. It was a long trip, particularly on hands and knees, and by the time I came to the fork that split one way to the Whomping Willow and the other to the shack, my hands were raw from scraping on pebbles and debris. I kept on though, eventually reaching an incline that I knew must mean I was nearly there. Sure enough, a moment later I emerged from a hole in the wall of room so dirty it rivaled the tunnel I'd just clambered through.

It was a relief to straighten out on my feet, so much so that I promised myself I'd never take the ability to stand up straight for granted again. I did a few stretches to untighten my limbs, then tried to shake the earth and cobwebs from my hair and clothing as I looked around at the room. There were bits of broken, splintered furniture quite literally everywhere. I couldn't find a single fixture intact. Chunks looked to have been bitten out of chairs, a table was split into two, and several other pieces were unrecognizable. The coating of dirt that blanketed the place could have only been explained by a sandstorm having swept through, although I knew that was impossible.

"You really need to work on your self-control," said a low voice from the hallway to my right. Snape appeared suddenly in the threshold, his silhouette barely discernible as the only light came from my wand and a few cloudy slivers that snuck through cracks in the boarded up windows. My heart stuttered, and it had nothing to do with the fact that I'd been startled by his ability to materialize out of nowhere. Would I ever become immune to his intensity?

I hoped not.

"News travels that fast?" I asked wryly as I mended the holes in the dirt-caked knees of my jeans.

He moved further into the room, and even in the shadows I could feel his glower on me. "I will have to ban you from all future Hogsmeade trips, you know. Be thankful The Dark Lord wishes to keep all wizard-born students under surveillance of the Death Eaters, else you may have been expelled by now. How is it that you cannot manage to stay out of trouble for even one entire month?"

"It's a gift," I said, covering up my embarrassment with cockiness. His glower deepened, cutting off my smirk. "Well what am I supposed to do! He attacked me. I tried to avoid him. I tried to walk away." I left out the part where I egged him on just slightly.

"Next time, try harder."

"It's not that simple. He comes at me any chance he gets. You've seen it, he's had it out for me since I started at Hogwarts. And then he's got the audacity to taunt me about you, about how you're not safe and he's going to go to Vo… to You-Know-Who…"

"So childish…" he sneered. "You are finding yourself in illegal duels over meaningless threats. Over having your feelings hurt. You know better than anyone that there are immeasurably higher stakes involved than inconsequential taunts."

I didn't know what to say. He was right, as always, and I couldn't stand the thought that he might be beginning to regret taking a chance on us. That he might end up regretting… me.

I summoned pride to mask my deepest fears. Though I should have apologized or acknowledged that he was right and that I would indeed brush Goyle off from now on, I instead shook more dirt from my hair while I searched for a response. "'Inconsequential?'" I said after a moment. "Was it an 'inconsequential taunt' last year when he nearly murdered me in the Astronomy Tower?" My voice rose a bit louder than I'd intended.

"Of course not! The crucial difference, however, is that in the Astronomy Tower, you had no alternative options. Today, you could have walked away and avoided the altercation. You lack discipline," he shot, enunciating each syllable with razorlike emphasis. "When you allow yourself to become victim to your emotions, you become weak. Emotion makes you vulnerable, leaving you exposed and impulsive. Careless. It is when you lose control of your emotions that you lose control of the situation."

He had moved closer to me now, nothing soft in the lines of his face as he pierced my heart with his glare. There was a pause in which I blinked back tears. "Maybe you're right," I said at last. "In some cases, that is definitely true. The fight with Goyle today being one, I will admit that. But… you're also wrong. Emotions can do more than make you weak or vulnerable. They can make you feel capable of anything. Sometimes, yes, you should shut them out… but other times you should let them fill you up. Invigorate you. I'm stronger than ever, and it is because of how I feel about you. I refuse to believe that those feelings could ever be a weakness. You've suppressed emotions for so long, even refusing to fully give in when you are alone with me, that you've forgotten how wonderful and empowering it can be."

He seemed to have stilled, and I was sure I could detect a hint of reverie as he studied me. Several moments of silence passed between us and I hoped that I reached that place inside him that only I could. "Nevertheless," his tone was gentler now, "if either of us were to expose those emotions, it would be a vulnerability, though I am sure you are aware that is the precise reason we are here today. Come," he gestured for me to follow, "we should get started. We don't have much time."

"Sure. Of course," I said quietly, sighing heavily. Even though he finally had accepted that he was capable of being loved, and that someone could see through his stone cold exterior and not think he is a monster… and even though he'd finally allowed himself to love me, he still was forced to keep his feelings locked up inside. He'd held back so much, for so long, but I knew that the emotions he kept buried inside were powerful ones. I'd told him once that I knew he must feel more strongly and deeply than the rest of us, and wholly believed that his anger and elation… his love and hatred… his fears and his passion… must be more powerful than even I could imagine. My heart ached for the day when Voldemort would be defeated and Snape could be freed of his obligations. Free to let himself feel as he wants to, without having to ever hold back.

For a moment, I pictured us together in his house. I'd brighten it up and freshen the paint and we would spend days wrapped together on his couch, reading books from his family's library, sipping elf-made wine and finally having the permissions to just exist.

My fantasy evaporated into the musty air of the shack when he broke the silence in a flat tone. "For both of our sakes, let us hope that you are far more adept at this than Potter was. Watch your step," he said, for several stair treads had gaping holes and some others were missing entirely. We'd traveled back down the hallway he'd appeared from and up a wooden staircase, the railing of which had been torn off entirely. His black cloak billowed at his heels ahead of me. "I made an attempt to teach him the skill of Occlumency and despite my utmost efforts, he failed entirely."

"Harry failed?" My insides went slightly limp. If someone as talented as Harry couldn't work it out, surely there was no hope for me.

We'd reached a room upstairs with a four-poster bed against one wall that reminded me of the beds at the Leaky Cauldron. It stood out in the room - or in the whole house for that matter - because it was the only furnishing that wasn't broken and filthy. In fact, I would have guessed it was recently cleaned.

Snape's nose twitched. "Yes. The precious 'Chosen One' failed at something. He may be the one prophesized to defeat The Dark Lord but make no mistake, it is through no natural talent of his own. You possess a considerably greater aptitude for magic than Potter, and in fact I've met few grown wizards who would rival your power. If you can, as we were discussing, discipline your mind so that it becomes the ruler of your emotions, then you will be able to master the skill."

I felt my mood lift slightly. One moment, I was weak, the next I was one of the most powerful witches he's ever known.

His dark eyes were locked on mine now. The blackness of them stood out even in the barely-lit room, and I wondered just how much emotion he was actually suppressing when we were together. I told myself, then, that I should be thankful he'd given as much as he had. He was trying, taking constant risks, so that he could give me as much of himself as possible.

A lightness filled me up now, my pulse jumping in that familiar way that made me yearn to reach out and touch him. It was a feeling I wished I could bottle up and save for the moments when darkness crept in. A hopefulness that I'd only ever felt when I was with him.

He indicated to the bed then. "Sit," he said, shrugging off his cloak and draping it on the mattress next to me. "Occlumency is a unique branch of magic in that it is a power that exists solely within your mind. There are no spells or incantations, no use for a wand or magical instruments. Those who are able to master Occlumency are those who possess a natural mental strength. That is why Potter could not manage. His mind is far too weak."

"I thought you just said my mind is weak," I muttered.

"No. I said that displaying your emotions for the world to see, and falling prey to them, makes you weak. I would use many adjectives to describe you, but 'weak' is not one of them," he said in an undertone. My mind wandered to what some of those adjectives might be, and I had to yank myself back into the topic at hand. "Utilizing Occlumency will allow you to seal your mind from magical influence or intrusion. At the present time, it seems only Goyle has displayed interested in unveiling your truths, and his skill in Legilimency is extremely limited. It is by luck alone that Travers is entirely incapable as a Legilimens, else we may not be standing here having this conversation today. The same cannot be said of each of The Dark Lord's followers, however, and The Dark Lord himself is nearly unmatched."

"So how do I 'utilize Occlumency' if there are no incantations?" I asked.

His brows pinched together. "You must empty your mind and your emotions. Close them off, and force your thoughts to become as blank as possible. Now, you may sit or stand, however you feel most at ease." With one hand he tugged at the bottom of his coat, straightening it as he shifted to an offensive position.

I stood up, wand gripped even though I knew I would not be using it, and tried to follow his instructions. But closing off my emotions seemed as impossible as sprouting wings and flying out the window. As he had so kindly highlighted, I seemed to be in a constant state of heightened emotions as of late, considering the panic attacks, nightmares, Boggarts…

Snape must have mistakenly thought I looked void of emotion, because my mind was still lingering on those dark feelings when he raised his wand to me and said "Legilimens!"

The dusty room went fuzzy and was quickly replaced by a swarm of memories. I was at my mom's grave… crying over her dead body. I was in Snape's office, watching him breathe steadily as he slept in a chair at my side… I was waking up in the night, screaming and panting… I was back in the forest… looking at dead Ginny… dead grandma… the voices were intruding again… 'I know your secrets…' 'How could you, Rowan?...' 'I'm dead because of you…' Louder and louder until I could feel myself screaming but no sound was coming out.

"Rowan… Rowan, I am sorry… my Rowan…" said a whispered voice from somewhere outside of the memories, but I could hardly make it out over the flashes and shouts. 'It's all your fault…' 'He'll die because of you…' 'You betrayed us…'

Then there was a whoosh in my ears and the weird sensation of coming back in to myself. For one bewildered moment I thought I heard someone panting and whimpering, then realized the sound was coming from me.

"Rowan, it's alright. You are okay, you are safe," said the voice, and I could feel arms wrapped tightly around me, steadying my body.

Mastering myself again, I swallowed the sobs and blinked my eyes into focus. Snape was kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed, one hand tucked under my back and the other holding onto my face, his body radiating warmth. In spite of his determination to avoid emotion, he was looking at me with concern and horror like I'd only seen in him twice before: once when he'd saved me in the Astronomy Tower and once after he'd rescued me from my uncle.

"What… what was that?" I said, my voice sounding like I had lost the habit of using it.

"You allowed me inside your mind. The Boggarts… they were in the forest?" I nodded, and the light touch of his fingers on my face turned into a caress. "I was not informed of what happened to you in the forest. I am sorry for what I have put you through… for all of the darkness you have been feeling. I would make it go away, were it possible…"

I sat up slightly in his arms, bringing my face closer to his. Breathing was becoming difficult for me, and it had nothing to do with the flashbacks. "You already do," I said. And I meant it. The panic and fear I'd felt just a moment before were already fading away. Part of me was happy to have had an excuse to feel his touch.

His boundless eyes pulled me in and without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him. He froze for a split second, caught unsuspecting. Then suddenly he came to life, his hands moving up my back and into my hair. My fingers trailed up along the buttons of his coat, resting next to his heart, and I could feel its beat accelerating right in pace with mine. But after far too short a time, he snapped himself out of it and pulled away.

"So much for not showing your emotions," I said against his lips, smiling.

He was all kinds of beautiful as his mouth curled into a self-satisfied smirk that made my heart do backflips in my chest. "Do you think it is without great difficulty?" he said. "The distance I keep from you is essential. In fact, next time I will allow you to collapse where you stand and force you to remove me from your thoughts on your own."

"So it's not as easy as you make it look then? Because sometimes you even convince me that you're nothing more than indifferent towards me."

He made a noise that could only be described as a slight chuckle, an occurrence so rare I wished I could have somehow saved the sound. "It is one of the most painful challenges I have encountered in a long time."

I became aware that I was now on my feet, staring straight up into his darkly framed face. Looking into his eyes made a warmth spread through my insides, as though they had flames inside. "Sorry," I said in a way that suggested I was not actually sorry at all.

"Don't be." He reached forward and tucked some stray strands of red hair behind my ear, gentle sliding his finger across my cheek as he did. "It is worth it. Now, are you ready to try again?"

I closed my eyes, granting myself a moment to soak in the feel of his skin, before I nodded.

Now that I had experienced the feeling of someone poking around my head, I felt a lot more confident. I understood more clearly what Snape had meant when he said to close off thoughts and emotions. I wouldn't admit it aloud, but the strong emotions I'd been feeling had, indeed, made it easier for him to gain access to the memories associated with those feelings. They were the ones at the surface, the most vulnerable and open for taking. But if I could just focus on something insignificant, that wasn't drenched in an intense feeling, I might manage a mental block. That task would be all the more difficult in the present moment, though, given that my insides were ablaze.

"Are you certain? Very well…" he raised his wand. "Legilimens!"

Another whoosh, and the tingle of fingers prying my head open. I was in the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, watching Snape as he stood at the head of the room, looking at me with an intensity like I'd never seen in anyone. I was in my Christmas party dress, walking down the hall with Snape at my side…

No…

I forced a memory to the surface, willing it to overtake the rest. History of Magic class, back at Ilvermorney... Katie, dozing off in the desk next to mine… No feeling but boredom…

Get… out…

I imagined grabbing the hands that were poking around in my head and shoving… shoving… shoving them away.

With a gasp, I staggered backwards and fell onto the bed. I blinked the room back into focus, and found Snape smirking with a glint of pride in his black eyes. "Excellent."