Hey pals!
This one, won't lie, it's a bit of a set-up chapter, but don't worry because the juiciest parts of Book 5 are fast approaching! (Also I may have forgotten that it was Monday and now it's 10pm and I'm frantically trying to edit, oops!)
Thank you again to everyone who follows/faves/reviews - special shoutout to RhodaBush and Lucyole who have been diligently reviewing since I started this fic. You are both superstars!
Hope you enjoy! x
It was over a month later when Snape found himself stony faced, standing across the room from an ornate silver bowl, staring at it like he wished it would burst into flames. The pensieve was a new addition to his office, one he didn't like the implication of. It was nearing Halloween, he assumed it was as miserable and bleak outside as it felt in this room. The artificial light afforded to him thanks to various candles and charmed lamps dotted around the walls flickered and cast dancing shadows around him, and with a smirk he thought it painted the antique in a haunting glow, mirroring how he felt about this particular trinket being in his vicinity.
With a heavy sigh, he walked to the pensieve and thought about what he needed to leave here. Memories of his childhood, certainly. No matter the ridiculously minute possibility that Potter could find the memories of his school years, he wouldn't take the chance. He chuckled darkly, it was highly likely that Potter wouldn't even understand what was happening around him, never mind rebound the spell back to him. Still, the smallest chance was still a chance, better to be safe than sorry. Thinking again, he supposed he should also conceal the memory of his conversation with Albus about these particular lessons. Certainly there were things that the Headmaster would likely want kept from Potter, although Snape found he couldn't care less. Leaning back on the pedestal holding the memory pool, Snape took a moment to steady his mind. He needed to cover all bases before these lessons, very much aware of the potential danger he was putting himself in by pushing into Potter's mind. He wished Albus had seen the same danger he did. He was already hiding more secrets than he would like, what with the continued lessons he shared with one Miss Granger. Frustratingly, these lessons weren't even particularly incriminating aside from Miss Granger's House and blood status. He was sure he'd be able to let this information slip to the Dark Lord without too much danger to the Granger girl (at least, at this point in time), but he knew it would still result in yet more torture for himself and selfishly, he would rather not. The knowledge of Mr Potter's lessons, on the other hand, could have devastating consequences for many should they fall into the wrong hands. Pulling a long, silvery strand from the side of his head, letting it fall into the pool, he thought back.
~.~.~
"Of course, it seems that all I ever get in this office are more demands and restrictions placed on my dwindling free time." It was fast approaching Halloween, and Snape had been summoned once more to Dumbledore's office. He sat back, his arms firmly crossed and legs stiff in front of him. "Not content with shoving the boy wonder's brainy friend on me, now you insist I deal with the golden brat himself?"
Albus chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Severus, my boy. Surely you must see the necessity of what I am asking? If Tom was able to take control of young Mr. Potter's mind, it could have devastating effects for the Order, and the outcome of the war. The boy must be kept safe."
Severus folded his arms tighter and exhaled heavily through his nose. He knew of course, that the old wizard was right. The revelation that Mr Potter was having 'dreams' was incredibly worrying, although Snape was somewhat fascinated by what his dreams meant and where this corridor he had mentioned belonged. Having the capacity to form some sort of mental link with the Dark Lord was uncharted territory, but if Harry couldn't control it and was manipulated without his knowledge it could have knock on effects that would devastate the Order and the cause. Had they thought this was possible, Dumbledore would more than likely have forced the boy to create barriers at a younger age. As it was, this was little more than damage control, but it was better than nothing. Still, the idea that he would have to devote another night a week to teaching the boy occlumency! The Boy Wonder barely paid attention in his class, how on earth would he be able to clear his mind?
"Should Harry learn of the extent of his connection with Tom, he could unwittingly feed information to the wrong side. Worse, Tom could end up compelling the boy to act outside of his own consciousness, he could destroy Harry without even meeting him. We can only assume at this point that Tom does not understand the connection they share, but Merlin help us if he has. The number of people who could be in danger is huge." Dumbledore had concern dancing around his face, never leaving the gaze of Snape. Snape studied a spot on the wall of Dumbledore's office for a long moment, debating how these lessons would play out.
"How long do I have?"
"That depends on what you know of Tom's plans, Severus." Snape rubbed his chin, still deep in thought. After a while, he spoke again.
"The Dark Lord has not divulged any of his upcoming plans as of yet. This could be down to trust, the need to 'put on a show', as it were, or simply because the pieces aren't in place yet. Regardless, his power has not yet fully returned, and I don't see him making any big plays this side of the year."
"Very well. Aim to have the boy occluding by Christmas. It can be a gift to yourself." He beamed at him, his eyes betraying the wide smile. Make no mistake about it, Snape thought, this wasn't a request. Stalking from the room and down towards the dungeons, Snape kept himself from running a tired hand through his hair. He was so lost in thought, he almost missed the opportunity to deduct house points as he passed a pair of younger Gryffindors trying - and failing - to hex each other. A warning disguised as belittlement, 30 house points and two ashamed looking Gryffindors later, and he was nearly back to the confines of his office. He hadn't been able to shift the thought that his lessons with Potter would be useless. He also had to continually suppress the apprehension that rose in him when he realized he would need to maintain deep eye contact with the boy repeatedly. Lily's eyes, he thought. Lily's eyes on his nemesis' face. He allowed himself to push the heels of his hands onto his temple, trying to push out the worry. Not helping disperse the thought, or the rising headache that accompanied it, he growled and stormed off towards his rooms, desperate for a drink.
~.~.~
Another memory came to mind, and he hesitated a moment before drawing the silvery strand out of his mind and into the bowl. It was recent, and confused him greatly. Not because of what it told him, but because of what it didn't. He wasn't sure why this particular memory should be off limits, but with the intense feeling of apprehension surrounding it, Snape told himself he would rather not have a brief crack in his normally steadfast resolve visible to the brat.
~.~.~
Snape stood in his classroom, a large cauldron bubbling away front and center. He kept himself deathly still as he explained the aim of the lesson, internally grumbling at this particular part of the curriculum. Looking out over the room, he could see a whisper of excitement on the student's faces. Contrary to his opinion, this was perceived as one of the highlights of the year. He was currently teaching his sixth year group, and today they were studying the properties of Amortentia, the strongest love potion in the wizarding world. This was always guaranteed to cause a stir among his pupils - the girls found it all so romantic, the boys were often filled with a strange pride as they attempted to link certain smells back to them, and generally there was a wave of giggling and blushing as the children experienced their first idea of love. Not that Snape could stand any of it. The potion was on the curriculum due in part to how dangerous it could be, and it frustrated him to no end seeing the students swoon over it. This was not the main cause for his dislike, however. Every year, he would be forced to be around the intoxicating scent of the potion, and every year it was the same - fresh linen, apples, and honeysuckle. Finding himself having to relive the dizzying scent of Lily made his stomach knot and his body feel heavy, and every year he wished he could avoid the task. Getting through this particular day of the school year was one he celebrated with copious amounts of Firewhiskey, enough to make him forget, if only for a little while.
As he strode through the rows of desks, he tried to push the rising anxiety he had for what was to come to the far back of his mind.
"Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence, and so is rightfully considered to be highly dangerous. As you might guess, this particular potion will grant the drinker the temporary feeling of emotional obsession towards whoever administered it, although you must remember that this is false infatuation. In order to maintain the heightened emotional feeling, the potion must be administered frequently, or else the infatuation will fade." He glanced at the expressions of several students out of the corner of his eye, most had a look of nervous fascination on their faces. Pathetic, he thought.
"Amortentia is distinguishable by its unique scent. You will find that this particular potion smells different to each one of you, based on what you find the most.. Attractive." He finished the sentence with his signature sneer. It was time to get this over with, he thought. Moving up towards the cauldron, he started to invite students to the front of the class to experience the scent first hand. Half way through his request, he took the familiar deep breath and prepared to relive his past once more.
What he was met with left him uneasy and confused.
The smells were.. All wrong. He could still smell the crisp apple, the fragrant honeysuckle and fresh linen, but those smells were no longer clear. Instead, they were distinctively muddy. Mixed with those familiar scents were aromas he couldn't quite place. An old smell, perhaps something close to parchment? Definitely vanilla. One particular scent rose to the front, almost assaulting his senses and Snape had to do everything in his power not to physically step away. It was the heady fragrance of peppermint.
When the time finally came to finish up classes for the day, Snape found himself staring into that cauldron. He dared himself to breath in the aroma once more, part of him desperate to have been wrong and another part wishing he was right. The earlier fragrances still lingered, an unwanted guest in his familiar rumination. Something had changed, was changing. An expression close to hurt played on his features, and with one last glance he vanished the evidence.
~.~.~
As the last memory left him, Snape felt the familiar empty space left behind, and for once he felt more comfort than loss. That particular memory had caused him to analyse how he felt about the beautiful redhead he had once called his best friend, and part of him felt like there were certain truths he was not yet ready to admit. It was easier, then, to remove the memory as he felt the emotions fade for the time being. He would never forget, but for the time being he would struggle to recall.
A knock from the outside brought him back to the present, and he quickly began occluding his most recent thoughts as he cleared the distance to the heavy wooden door. Throwing it open, he sneered down at the visibly anxious form of Harry Potter, and let him inside. As soon as Harry moved through the doorway, Snape wordlessly slammed it back shut. It gave him no amount of glee to see Potter jump at the sound, although he didn't express it.
"Sit." Snape waved towards two transfigured stools placed opposite each other. Harry rushed over and sat down, the fear still palpable. Snape followed behind him but did not take a seat. Instead he turned away from him, stealing a final glance at the pensieve and forcing the anger that he held for this entire situation back.
"The Headmaster feels that with your recent.. visions.. it is pertinent for you to learn Occlumency. Please explain to me what the art of Occlumency is, Potter." Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Um, I think it's when you stop someone reading your mind?" Snape sneered at this. Although inelegant and without detail, a fairly accurate depiction of Potter himself, the answer was fundamentally correct.
"Adequate. Now, I will attempt to invade your mind and you will stop me. Understand?" He didn't give the boy a chance to answer. "Good. Legillimens!"
Navigating through the chaos of Potter's mind had been both parts frustrating and satisfying. He could tell easily that the boy responded the most to memories tied to love, and he relished in picking apart each of these, determined to humiliate the boy as much as he could. He knew this was bordering on malicious, knew that the boy was almost certainly not going to take away anything from this lesson other than perhaps a stronger hatred for him than he held already, but he didn't care. The second he had looked into the child's eyes he had felt as if Lily stared back, and it tore from him such an inescapable anger that this was the easiest he knew he could be on the boy.
When he felt he had seen enough of Potter's simpering love life, he ripped himself from the boy's mind and looked down at the boy with disgust. "Not good enough, Potter. The Dark Lord will use those memories to destroy everything and everyone you hold dear. How do you expect to protect your friends if you cannot close. Your. Mind?" Shortly after, Harry had practically fled from the classroom, fury and pain in his eyes. Snape sat down on one of the conjured stools and breathed heavily, running his hands through his hair. Although he had enjoyed watching the boy rise to his taunts, they had spent the better part of two hours working through memories and he was feeling drained. He stood in silence for as long as he dared, his mind still heavily occluding, before he slowly walked back to the pensieve and looked down. He raised his wand, and hesitated. Would it be so bad to leave them here? Would it be so bad to forget? As soon as the thought appeared he banished it, no, it would do him no good to contemplate something so reckless. There was no way of knowing what the side effects of prolonged pensieve storage could be, especially with memories that held so much emotional weight. Drawing the thin silver strands back up towards his temple, he felt waves of guilt, grief, and betrayal hit him like a bludger to the stomach. Once more he headed to his rooms, pushing Firewhiskey to the forefront of his mind.
Hermione had found herself settling into the new term with relative ease. Once she had figured out a decent schedule for the increased load of homework, incorporating time for research and the extra lessons with Professor Snape, she was able to fly through the days without worrying too much. The DADA classes were still a disaster, although thankfully detentions had all but dried up. On the occasion that a student was frustrated enough to lash out, they didn't appear to have any of the telltale marks from before, and Hermione could only assume that her potions professor's threat had done the trick.
She thought back to that day, and it stirred in her a strange sense of pride. She had come to realise that Professor Snape's brain and Professor Snape's mouth seemed to work against each other. Although he could be cruel, uncaring, with a cold presence, that day in Defense had confirmed to her that in his own way he still needed to protect his students. Even if he hadn't confided that in her, which she supposed made sense.
Remember Hermione, you're not friends. You're a student and he's your teacher. Nothing more.
Lately she found herself repeating this mantra semi-frequently. Once she had gotten over the fact that Professor Snape was a man of few words, she found him to be quite companionable, in a bizarre way. She guessed that it was his presence, it filled up a room even if he didn't speak. Plus, there was a gentle familiarity about sitting in a room with only the sounds of a bubbling cauldron and a quill on parchment to accompany you. On occasion she had attempted to strike up a conversation about the papers he graded, or ask further questions about whatever potion they had brewed in class, but she was usually shut down. Sometimes he would just murmur his approval, and ignore the rest of the conversation. He hadn't snapped at her, however, not since the first lesson. That, she felt, was progress.
Hermione had also realized in a roundabout way that she was having a much easier time sleeping. Perhaps it was due to her increased workload, her mind was surely more drained than usual and that meant sleep found her easier. But then, she hadn't woken in a panicked sweat in weeks, and she couldn't understand why. Having her mind at rest had increased her drive to learn tenfold, and this renewed vigor meant that she found it much easier to power through assignments. Almost two months ahead of schedule, Hermione had managed to set up and catalog her notes for all classes, ready for OWL revision to begin in earnest after Christmas.
Looking over her self-created study schedule, she penned in another new activity - D.A. It hadn't been long after Hermione's horrendous run in with Umbridge that she had spoken to Harry, and convinced him that the only way they were going to pass their OWL was if they had a better teacher. Someone who had experienced first hand how dangerous dark magic could be. It had taken some convincing but eventually he had agreed to speak to whoever was interested. It had turned out that quite a lot of the students in their year had been eager to get hands-on practice, and the signup list was bursting. Honestly, she couldn't wait to get back into practical Defense work, and it would help Harry take his mind off of his nightmares.
Harry's nightmares! After Harry had returned from his first session with Professor Snape, it had been clear that it hadn't been a success. Harry was visibly furious, ranting about how much of a prat the professor was and how he had no sense of decency. Hermione had held her tongue and not said a word, she knew that any defense she gave of the potions master would result in more shouting and she didn't think she could deal with that. Instead, she sat up that night and pondered what she could possibly do to help. She didn't doubt Professor Snape's ability at occlumency, he was a spy after all. She had thought to perhaps ask him for lessons too, but considering the battle she'd had to secure extra potions lessons, she thought that might be imposing on his already tight schedule. Sighing angrily to herself, she took the schedule out once more and looked for what sparse free time she had left. Nothing during the week, damn. Well then, it would have to be the weekend. Hogsmeade would just have to go on the back burner for a while, Hermione needed to learn to Occlude.
