Fellowship & Fairydust

By Brand Spanking New

Word Count: 2980

Rating: PG-13 for violence and some language

Summary: When Harry looks into Snape’s mind during an Occlumency lesson, the professor reacts violently

Snape sat hunched at his desk, scrawling acerbic comments across the terrible excuse for an essay that Anna Martin had turned in. Ridiculous girl had apparently written the entire essay without once actually opening her textbook. Surely she’d make a wonderful assistant janitor at the Ministry of Magic upon graduation.

A rather hesitant tap on his door broke him from his thoughts. He suppressed a sigh. “Enter,” he intoned.

The door creaked open a few inches, revealing the messy black hair that made his stomach clench. Potter entered to just inside the room and stood there, his arms stiff at his sides and his eyes not quite meeting Snape’s own.

Snape stared at the boy, nearly dumbfounded. After last week’s…altercation… he had expected the boy to never darken his doorway out of his own free will again. “What are you doing here, you foolish boy?” Snape snapped finally.

He could see the tension in the boy’s neck as he swallowed. However, Harry Potter was a Gryffindor to his very bones, and so he spoke. “You said we could continue Occlumency lessons, sir,” the boy said. There was sheer determination in the boy’s voice. His eyes finally rose to connect with Snape’s own and again, it struck the man how very much they resembled Lily’s. He looked down at the awful essay in front of him, spattered with red ink and definitely a lost cause.

Decisively he stood, flicking his wand towards the door to close and lock it. Potter flinched at that, and Snape felt a small twinge very deep inside at the boy’s reaction. It was a smart reaction truly, all things considered. Last time the boy had stood where he stood now, Snape had managed a horribly thorough impression of his own father in a dire rage. He’d injured the boy.

He turned those thoughts aside with an ease borne by many years of practice as he took his position in front of his desk.

“More Occlumency practice,” he said smoothly. “As though any of these lessons so far have managed to stick in that empty skull of yours. Truly, Potter, do you believe one more will change things?”

Lily’s eyes stared back at him, and his stomach twinged unpleasantly. This is Lily’s child too, he reminded himself forcefully. If he didn’t manage to teach the wretched boy something, both he and the boy would die, likely in agony.

“I don’t know, sir,” Potter said honestly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “But I’m willing to try.”

There was a hint of a challenge in the boy’s voice. Snape heard it, and yet again, the urge to throttle the impudent child in front of him rose in his chest. He squashed it ruthlessly.

“Fine.” Snape whipped his wand from the sleeve of his robe and saw the boy flinch again.

“Wait!” The boy raised his hands as if to ward him off. Snape paused, curiosity overcoming his innate malice for a moment.

“Well?’ Snape put as much derision into the word as he could. “The Dark Lord will not wait, boy.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t him,” Potter said. “It’s just… Sir, this obviously isn’t working.”

Snape couldn’t hold back an exasperated puff of air. “Then why in the blazes are you here? My time is valuable, Potter, whatever you may think!”. He was ready to throw the boy out of his classroom again and turn to Firewhiskey to soothe his temper.

“I know! I’m just… If you’re going to teach me how to do this… I mean…” The boy was wringing his hands now, obviously agitated.

“Are you trying to tempt me into beating you again, Potter? For if so, you are doing a marvelous job of it!” Snape snapped at him.

He couldn’t stop the smirk when Potter stepped out of reach. It wasn’t nice, but Snape knew he wasn’t a nice man.

“No, sir,” Potter said. He took a deep breath. “Listen, the muggles have a saying. ‘Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is the definition of insanity,’ or something like that. So you keep telling me to clear my mind and then attack it, and I keep screwing something up and it’s obviously not working! Is there… Can we try something else?”

The boy was breathing hard, looking very nervous. There was a very small place in Severus’ head that admitted the child had courage. Like his mother, a tiny voice whispered, sounding awfully like the headmaster.

“Something else,” Snape said, thinking quickly. “And what exactly do you have in mind, Potter? I shall not coddle you. You aren’t a mewling infant.”

Something flashed across the boy’s face, too quickly for Severus to decipher. “No sir. I’m not. I don’t expect to be coddled, whatever you think. I’m not some pampered little ponce! But most things can be taught more than one way. I’m asking you to please, teach me how to do this.” The boy swallowed again.

Snape wondered if that was pride the boy was choking on.

No, Severus could admit, if only to himself, that the idea he’d had of the boy as a spoiled little princeling had been incorrect. He’d pillaged through the child’s memories before allowing him to leave last week. He’d been much rougher and more thorough than he’d ever been during an Occlumency lesson. And in the boy’s mind, he’d seen abuses by that wretched Petunia and a pair of whales he assumed were her husband and son. Though it was nothing compared to the beatings Snape had received at the hands of his own father, no child, not even this insufferable little fool, deserved such treatment as a steady diet.

Potter was watching him warily, and Snape did not need Legilimency to know the boy was wondering if he was about to get a genuine whipping this time.

The boy took another step backwards as Snape sighed. Really, he should have thought of this muggle proverb himself. And if the boy didn’t look so much like his thrice-damned father, he probably would have. That thought gave him an idea. “Fine. Remove your glasses.”

“Sir?” Potter asked, blinking owlishly.

“You said that you wanted me to teach you, Potter. So remove your glasses,” Severus snapped.

The boy very hesitantly drew the glasses off his face, looking rather more upset than Snape thought it warranted. But then he noticed the squint.

“How blind are you, Potter?” Snape asked silkily, stepping forward and snatching them from the boy’s hand. The child flinched back, but belatedly, answering Snape’s question rather handily. A glimpse through the lenses confirmed it. Merlin’s beard, the boy truly was near-blind without them!

“Give them back!” Potter yelled.

Anger rose in Snape’s chest, but he held it in check. The child was scared, he reminded himself quickly, and for good reason considering what had happened the last time he had been alone with this particular hated professor. Being nearly blind as well surely intensified his nerves. Yet even though Snape told himself this, his mouth was already moving.

“Do not yell at me, Mr. Potter,” he said darkly. “I may not beat you, but you are certainly still small enough to turn over my knee.”

The boy winced, looking a bit insulted (no boy liked to be reminded that he was on the small side) but he held fast, squaring his shoulders. “I need my glasses,” he said stubbornly, his lip jutting out slightly. Severus was struck suddenly with a memory of Lily with nearly the same expression on her face. Without his glasses, it was easier to see the resemblance between them.

“I am aware of that,” Severus said. “Wait momentarily.”

The boy looked confused. Snape turned his back to the boy and placed the pair of revoltingly James Potter-esque spectacles on his desk before tapping them with his wand. Obligingly they disappeared from sight. Snape plucked them off the desk and pressed them back into Potter’s hands.

“What the hell?” Potter said, obviously startled. He squinted at his hands.

“They are invisible, Potter. Magic, yes?” The sarcasm was perhaps a bit strong but Severus couldn’t resist. “Put them on.”

He watched as the boy fumbled with the invisible eyeglasses and settled them on his face. His eyes went wide. “Whoa.”

“Indeed. Now that we have settled that, sit.”

Snape waited while the boy took a seat behind one of the first row desks. Nearest the door, Snape noted, leaning back against his own desk. The child didn’t want to be unable to flee if necessary.

“I noticed something last week, Potter,” he said quietly. The boy tensed. “When I entered your mind before allowing you to leave, I did so with much greater force than I ever had before. And to my surprise, I came across memories that I had not seen so much as a hint of in any of our previous lessons.”

The boy looked absolutely miserable. Strangely, without his glasses visible on his nose, Snape found the sight somewhat less enjoyable.

“Well I didn’t get any warning, did I?” Potter said defensively, and just a touch angrily.

“No, you did not,” Snape conceded, but then continued, “as you will not, should the Dark Lord ever have a chance to use Legilimency on you.”

“Except for my bloody scar exploding,” the boy said sarcastically.

“Language, Potter,” Snape said irritably. “And that is not the point I am intending to make.”

The boy waved his hand at Snape in a gesture that clearly said, Continue, and so he did.

“I had never seen these memories before. Not once, in all of our many, repetitious lessons. Not so much as a flicker. Part of that, I’m sure, is that I did not know to look for them.” Snape hesitated briefly before deciding that he owed the boy a touch of honesty here. “But I was searching for painful memories, things you would not want me to see. And they should have come up, as they certainly are painful memories. Yet nothing. Do you understand the point I’m trying to make here?”

The child looked confused. “No,” he muttered sullenly.

Snape resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh. Of course not.

“They were hidden, you foolish boy! You did not allow me to see them before.” He wondered if James Potter had perhaps dropped the child on his head during his infancy. That would explain much.

“Well why would I let you see that stuff? I don’t even think about it!” The boy looked truly angry now. “It’s none of your business!”

“Exactly!” Snape flared back. “Potter, what on earth do you think Occlumency is? It is hiding the memories that you do not wish another to see. And obviously you are capable of it, since I did not see those memories before!”

The boy stared at him, his mouth open a bit. “Oh,” he said weakly after a moment.

Snape raised an eyebrow, hoping he would elaborate. The boy was silent though, still staring. His mind seemed to be elsewhere. As Potter didn’t seem inclined to speak, Severus decided to help him along.

“So what were you doing with those particular memories during our previous lessons, Mr. Potter?” Severus prodded. “For I did not find them in your mind, and they did exist somewhere.”

The boy’s eyes flickered to his before looking away. “I just… Don’t think about them,” he said quietly.

“No, it is more than that. Legilimency allows its practitioner to pull forward memories from the subject’s mind. It does not require the subject’s consent to do so, as I’m sure you realized last week.” When I tore through your mind like a child through wrapping paper on Christmas morning. “Occlumency is the defense of the mind from this practice, and it requires effort. A shield of sorts, if you will, between the mind of the seeking party and the mind of the attacked. Generally, the easiest and most basic shield is that of blankness, a clearing of the mind, but you have been hopeless at that and as you pointed out earlier, it is obviously not working. So I will ask you again—what, specifically, did you use to shield those memories? Where did you hide them?”

The boy shrunk a bit into the desk. Severus could see him thinking hard. It looked like it might be painful, he thought uncharitably.

Those green eyes connected with his once again, a look of understanding and determination making them intensely green. Severus nodded and raised his wand. “Legilimens,” he said quietly, and broke into the boy’s mind.

A few memories flitted past—fight with young Mr. Weasley over whether or not the young man had entered his own name into the Goblet of Fire last year, Miss Chang telling him that she’d already been asked to the ball by Mr. Diggory… but no memories of the boy’s family were anywhere to be found. He searched for them a bit more aggressively, though not like he had in his rage, but nothing came up except a few images of what he knew was the child’s home… A hallway, a cupboard under some stairs, a rather sad-looking bedroom that reminded Snape a bit of his own childhood hideout. Nothing remarkable or remotely interesting.

Snape released the spell. He heard Potter let out a small gasp and his fingers went to his temples.

“Much improved,” Snape admitted stiffly. Somehow, it was easier to praise the boy now when Lily’s eyes weren’t hidden behind those heinous glasses. “I did not even see your shield, yet it must have been there, for none of the memories I was seeking were available.”

“Yes sir,” the boy said.

“Again,” Severus stated, raising his wand.

Again, he pushed into the boy’s mind. This time, even the memories he’d seen just moments previously, of Ms. Chang and young Mr. Weasley, were nowhere to be found. He searched on, but nothing came to hand. All he saw was the relatively pitiful little bedroom and the tiny cupboard door under a set of stairs. This time, he tried to open the cupboard door, and found it locked. He tugged harder, but the cupboard stayed closed. A mental unlocking spell against the cupboard door did nothing; the door did not even rattle under the force of it. Snape found himself impressed.

He released the boy from his spell. Potter sat stiffly at the desk, gripping the sides of it as though he was afraid he might blow away. But as he watched, the boy went spineless, sliding down into a horrible slouch.

“Sit up, Potter,” Snape said briskly. With a small groan, the boy did. He looked worn out, exhausted, and slightly battered. But he looked up at Snape with shining green eyes. Severus could see that the boy already knew he’d done well.

“So, you hid them in the cupboard,” he said. The boy stared at him for a moment, then gave a reluctant, tiny bob of his head.

“That shall do for the moment,” Snape decided. “It’s unconventional to be certain, but as I was unable to open the door, it is fine for the time being.” He met the boy’s eyes again. “The Dark Lord would be more than willing to batter down the door to access your memories. He must have no cause to do so and no idea that the cupboard holds more than some boots and cleaning supplies. The next time we meet, we shall discuss how to direct his attention elsewhere so he does not break into your mind like a thief in the night. But for the time being, especially as it is nearing curfew, your crude hiding place must suffice.”

The boy’s face twisted a bit before smoothing over. “Yes sir,” he said with a bit of a wry note in his voice. Of course, he would not pet and praise the child for his success, and he thought it must irk the boy. But his face at least was placid and calm.

“Now go,” Snape said. “Return next week at the same place and time. And do not forget to hide your memories of our Occlumency lessons.”

He had shared the lessons up to this point with the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord had found his humiliation of Mr. Potter after his last lesson darkly amusing, though he had subjected Snape to an extended session with the Cruciatus for giving the boy just cause to refuse any more lessons. He had not explained his reasoning, but Severus rather thought that the Dark Lord enjoyed anything that caused the boy misery, and by ending the lessons he had also ended the misery.
He would not, of course, be showing this lesson to the Dark Lord. It would behoove him to make certain that Potter did not, either.

“Yes sir,” the boy said, rising from his seat.

Snape returned to his own desk, unlocking the door with a wordless charm. Another charm made the boy flinch as it was directed towards him. It wasn’t necessary though, since Snape did not mean any harm. Instead, those horrible glasses appeared again on his nose, and Snape picked up his quill and kept his eyes firmly on the parchment in front of him, pretending to write more scathing criticism. He did not want to see the boy with those dreadful glasses once again obscuring Lily’s eyes.

His ears, however, were as sharp as a bat’s, and so he heard the very small whisper that came just as Potter crossed the threshold.

“Thank you sir.”

Just a breath, then the click as the door to his classroom closed behind the irritating child.

Lily’s irritating child.

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