Pains and Contradictions

Additional disclaimer: I am not Frank Herbert. I did not write Dune and make no money off his incredibly wonderful series. There is a scene in this chapter that is directly influenced by that book. I read it as a child and I had no idea it had affected me as much as it did until I began to write this story. This chapter was planned from the beginning.

Also, I realize this story has been very tame so far but it will be rated M eventually. It will also contain sex between two males and I will not warn you as to when it will happen. Please consider every chapter not safe for work. : )

Thank you so much to my ever-patient beta Torina for the excellent beta. She seriously put hours into this extremely long chapter. She also helped me by giving me one excellent line that is spoken by Remus in this chapter. I also apologize for the updates taking so long. In my outline I had to get through an entire summer in three chapters, hence their length. Updates shouldn't take as long as the chapters should now be somewhat shorter.

Thank you also to WhiteCotton for a Brit Picking and canon beta. She also supplied the idea for what the Weasley twins get Harry for his birthday. And as always a big hello to all the lovely people at Severus Sighs!

Torina has challenged me to write the scene at the end of this chapter in Snape's POV so look out for that in the next day or two.

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Prophecy and prescience — How can they be put to the test in the face of the unanswered questions? Consider: How much is the prophet shaping the future to fit the prophecy? Does the prophet see the future or does he see a line of weakness, a fault or cleavage that he may shatter with words or decisions as a diamond-cutter shatters his gem with a blow of a knife? --- excerpt from Frank Herbert's Dune


Snape watched as Harry unwrapped boxes of sweets from various members of the Weasley clan and a package of something that resembled brown rocks from Hagrid.

"Um, yeah... He usually has these when we go visit him but I think this is the first time he's actually sent them." Harry's nose wrinkled as he brought the inedible biscuits closer to his nose. "It's really nice of him... Just..."

Snape smirked as he used his wand to get rid of the undesirable sweets. "Understandable. I would be hesitant to consume anything made by a man who keeps dragons as pets as well."

Harry's eyes went wide for a moment, and he gave Snape a hesitant look as he said in a quiet voice, "You knew about that?"

Snape scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I believe every professor in residence heard about that incident, Potter. Hagrid is quite loud when intoxicated and the castle is not as large as you seem to think."

Harry laughed as he brushed off a few crumbs of rock cake that had managed to come loose and onto his shirt. "No, I guess it's not." The young man looked around at the boxes and discarded paper that looked so odd in Snape's normally tidy sitting room and said, "I think that was everything."

The Potions Master studied Harry cautiously. The average person would look at Harry and see a content young man enjoying his birthday, but Snape noticed a tinge of sadness in the way his shoulders were set. He belatedly realized that Harry hadn't received a gift from the last remaining member of the Golden Trio.

Snape glanced down to the floor where a plainly wrapped book-shaped object had fallen. Although Harry hadn't said anything, he knew he had been expecting a gift from Granger and had been disappointed when there wasn't one. Snape breathed a sigh of relief at sight of the gift and was glad that no great disappointment would befall Harry today. "Does the great Harry Potter receive so many gifts from his admirers that he would discard one?"

Harry looked down to where Snape was pointing and the relief on his face was noticeable. "Hermione," was all Harry said in response, sounding relieved. "I wonder what this could be." He picked up the package and took it in his hands. Smiling, Harry said, "Maybe it's a puppy."

Snape scoffed. "I wouldn't discount the notion so quickly, especially with the group you're acquainted with. After all, there are those... things." Snape pointed to the flashing lightning bolt stickers that were guaranteed to stick to any surface, given to Harry by the Weasley twins. Harry attempted to put one on Snape but quickly discovered that there were still lines to be crossed with the Potions Master, and putting false curse scars on his person was going beyond it.

Harry laughed and began unwrapping the gift. It looked rather thick and heavy to Snape and he found himself curious as to what the know-it-all would give Harry.

Harry unwrapped a book and gave a half-smile. "Defense Against the Darkest Arts. I can always count on Hermione to give me something I can actually use."

"Indeed," said Snape as he took the book from Harry's hands without permission and began to leaf through the pages.

"Oh, by all means, please go ahead," Harry laughed at Snape's unceremoniously taking the book from his hands. Snape ignored him and continued looking through the book. Granger had paid no small amount for this tome, Snape thought. It was a newer edition of a very good defense book. He had an older copy on his own shelves.

He continued leafing through the pages, noticing a watermark here and a loose page there. Perhaps Granger had been able to buy the book from a second-hand shop. Several moments passed before he noticed that Harry had been silent for far longer than it should have taken him to read the short note the girl had written.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Harry's face pale as he brought one hand up to cover his mouth while the other crumpled the note that had accompanied Granger's gift slightly in his grip.

"Potter?" he asked inquisitively.

Harry looked up from the note to meet Snape's gaze slowly. His expression was blank as he met Snape's eyes and then returned his own to the note for a moment longer. The change in his disposition was extreme; one moment he had been enjoying gifts from his friends and the next he was utterly lost. Snape watched as Harry glanced at the note once more, then lowered his hands to his lap.

"Oh... Nothing. Just Hermione. I guess-"

"What did Granger write that has affected you so?"

Harry attempted to smile but it came out as a grimace.

"No, she's just..." Harry buried his head in his hands and the note fell to the floor. He looked visibly shaken and Snape had to stop himself from reaching out to Harry as he said in a desperately low voice, "She's sad, alright?"

Snape kept his place on the couch even though every instinct in his body told him to take the young man in his arms and do whatever he could to relieve him of his sadness.

The Potions Master refrained from responding to Harry's statement, not entirely sure what to say. In all his time in the dungeons, Harry had never actively sought his comfort. The young man seemed to soak it up somehow, as though just being in Snape's presence was enough to heal him. In the weeks since Harry's arrival in the dungeons he'd made great strides in overcoming his sadness over his friend's death. This was really the first time the subject had been cast into the light since Harry's first night here. And though Snape had witnessed Harry's recovery, he had to admit that he did not have any idea as to how exactly it had come about.

Harry ran his hands through his hair and made a noise that sounded like a sob. "She's just... so sad. And I'm-" Harry cut himself off and turned his face away from Snape.

"And you are not," Snape finished his sentence for him.

Harry sniffed and wiped a hand across his face quickly, his head still leaning towards Snape's bedroom door and not the man himself. "Yeah," Harry said in shaky voice that betrayed his emotional state. "She's sad... And I'm not."

Harry then turned to face the Potions Master. Snape looked closely at the slightly red eyes and the small trace of moisture that Harry's sleeve had missed.

"It's only been two months since..." Harry trailed off and waved a hand through the air.

"Yes," Snape said, nodding and waiting for Harry to finish his sentence. After a moment he prodded, "It has only been two months..."

"It's only been two months since my best friend died and I... I don't feel that way," he said gesturing to the fallen note.

"And precisely what way should you be feeling, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, leaning back in his spot on the sofa.

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. "This," he said, bending down to pick up Granger's note, "is how I should be feeling. She's miserable, Snape. I'm fairly sure these smudges are tear tracks," Harry said as he pointed to the smudged script on the page. "She's lonely and she's miserable and-"

"And you are not," Snape repeated.

Harry looked up and met Snape's eyes. The truth stretched between them as it had in similar moments this past month. "No. I'm not." The fact that the change in Harry's emotional state had stemmed from his time in Snape's dungeons remained unspoken but acknowledged between them.

Snape paused to consider the way he himself had mourned Lily, continued to mourn Lily. But no, Harry's experience with the Weasley boy would be nothing like his own. Harry was no more responsible for Ronald Weasley's death than he was for the sun rising in the east, whereas Snape was still attempting to atone for being the instrument that led to the murder of his own best friend. Harry would not live in the misery that Snape had all these years, not if he could help it.

"Allow me to ask a question, Potter. Tell me, what pains you more at this moment: the pain of your friend's death or the guilt you feel at no longer grieving for him the way you did when the incident first occurred?"

Harry paused and considered the question. He frowned and shook his head, and it seemed as though he was trying to shake the confusion he felt off of himself. "I don't... What?"

Snape turned his body to face Harry and met his eyes, determined to make Harry understand. "Every person handles grief in a different manner. You have mourned your friend and you shall continue to mourn him but your life cannot revolve around the fact that he is no longer among the living. Ask yourself what you feel you should be doing differently, Potter? Force yourself into a depression that you do not feel?" Harry frowned at Snape's words but Snape continued, not allowing Harry to interrupt him. "Every person mourns in their own way. The nature of Miss Granger's and Mr. Weasley's relationship is such that this type of grief is normal for her."

"But mine wasn't. Our relationships with him were different, but he meant just as much to me as he did to her. Is it normal for me to just get over his death in two months time? Two months of grieving for six years of friendship?"

"There is no 'normal' time, no set date when you're allowed to start living your life again. What you're feeling now isn't grief; it's the guilt that we feel once we realize that we have continued to live our lives and our beloved dead have not. Your Miss Granger is not there yet; she is still dwelling in her grief."

"Of course she is. It's only been two months." Harry seemed angry now. "She's a decent person, what she's feeling is normal. I hated that I couldn't mourn Ron. I hated that it was days before I could even think about him for more than two minutes at a time. But I did and-"

"Yes, you did. You mourned him in your own way. Would you like me to borrow the headmaster's pensieve so you can relive your own screaming from that night? Would that convince you that you did in fact feel sorrow?"

Harry drew back in the sofa for a moment with a despondent expression on his face and Snape mentally sighed. He did not have a talent for comforting people. There was no logic in loss.

He paused for a moment before speaking again, giving Harry a moment to recover. "Do you miss him still?"

Harry's eyes grew thunderous at the perceived slight. "What kind of question is that? Of course I miss him."

Snape nodded. "Indeed. And you will continue to miss him all your life. But that is not your current predicament." Harry turned away from Snape and stared at the fire in the hearth, but Snape would have none of it. Perhaps he did not have a gift for comforting people, but he would not leave Harry feeling miserable; not when he could do something about it. Without hesitation, Snape lifted one long-fingered potions-stained hand and turned Harry's face towards him.

It was the first time he had ever voluntarily touched Harry. In every other instance Harry had sought out his touch, laid his hands on Snape's, touched his knee with his own, grazed Snape's back with his fingers.

The distinction did not appear to be lost on Harry.

Eyes wide, Harry listened as Snape began to speak, his chin still in the grasp of Snape's pale hand. "You feel guilt, but not because your friend is dead. You feel guilt because you are no longer thinking about him every moment of every day as you did immediately after his passing. It is on your mind but no longer at the forefront; a dull ache rather than the sharp sting it once was. And with that ache comes the guilt, and that makes the initial pain infinitely worse. Because before it was simply grief and now it has become something else- something that threatens to consume you. You must not allow it."

Hypocrite, Snape thought to himself, well aware of the irony that he was the one giving this speech to Harry.

Snape released Harry's face, and his body ached at the loss of warmth. Harry looked down and rubbed the spot on his chin that Snape's hand had just touched. "I don't know." Harry paused a moment, looking off into the distance before speaking again. "I feel like I've been down here in the dungeons... with you... forever. It's almost like we've been in our own little world since June."

Snape nodded in agreement. "Precisely why it was of such import to get you out of the dungeons and into the Great Hall each day, or to Gryffindor tower, or on those walks of mine on which you seemed so pleased to accompany me."

Harry looked down again at Granger's note. He bent over to pick it up and ran his fingers over it, lost in thought.

"I..." Harry closed his eyes and shuddered. "I'm sorry."

It was Snape's turn to frown. "Whatever for?"

"I've been... hiding down here. After Ron... and this whole awful year... Well, two years if you think about it-"

"Potter." Snape waited until Harry turned to face him. "I believe that a small break from the usual stress that is your life has been only to your benefit after what you've endured these past few years. Tell me, when was the last time you were allowed to relax, to sit in silence; to take teas with a friend or discuss advanced defense theory?"

Harry smiled at the last. He nodded slowly and conceded Snape's point.

"It was just so tempting... to rest for a little while. I can't ever recall a time where I've been so..." Harry stopped.

"Yes," Snape said, understanding everything Harry wasn't saying.

"But you're right. I've been hiding out. I can't do that anymore." Harry looked up and met Snape's eyes, determination in his gaze. "We need to start my lessons."

"We will then," Snape replied.

"No, we need to start them right now." Harry rose from the sofa quickly and ran a hand through his hair. "We've lost too much time already. It can't keep on like this. As much as I've enjoyed this time... with you, Snape... you're right. I can't hide anymore."

"Time spent recovering is not time wasted, Potter. And there is no need to start our lessons today. It is your birthday, and I imagine the wolf would like to spend time with you, probably circling that infernal pitch of yours."

Harry frowned and shook his head. "I can see Remus later." He glanced down at Granger's letter again. "I think it's time to stop acting like the world beyond the castle doesn't exist, like reality doesn't exist."

Snape sat quietly for a moment before replying. "Very well. We shall, immediately following breakfast."

Harry turned to Snape, who was still sitting on the sofa, and nodded his assent. He picked up the book that Snape had set down next to him and ran his hands over the title. "Will it ever get any easier? Or will it always just be a different kind of horrible?"

Snape paused to consider how to answer that question, not entirely sure what to say. He couldn't help but think of the pain he had felt, was still feeling, at Lily's loss. He had no desire to make Harry feel as if there was no hope for ever feeling normal again, but at the same time had no desire to lie. "It will get easier as time goes on, but you will always feel the loss." Snape gave a dark chuckle and said, "Trust me, Potter; it will be even more odd when you are thirty and think of your friend who is still seventeen. You will mature and grow but he will not. You will reach thirty and still think back on him and remember him as he was- all red hair, freckles and quidditch."

Harry looked down from where he was standing, his face a mixture of sorrow and wistfulness. He sat down next to Snape, almost on top of him, and turned his head. Their faces were only inches apart.

"Will it never completely go away?"

Never before had the Potions Master wanted to lie as much as he did in that moment. He opened his mouth to utter false platitudes, but none would leave his mouth. In the end, Snape could only lean back, away from the piercing green eyes and beautiful face that constantly threatened to destroy him, and respond with the truth. "If it ever does, Potter, you will be the first I inform."

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"Concentrate, Potter!"

Harry braced himself in his chair as images were pulled forcefully from his mind.

A quidditch game in his third year; another meeting of Dumbledore's Army in his fifth; Dudley and his gang going 'Harry hunting' when he was a child; Sirius falling through the veil...

"Stop! Please!" They'd been doing this for hours, and Harry couldn't take any more. He shuddered, and after one more awful moment he felt Snape's intrusive presence recede from his mind.

Harry sank heavily in his chair, panting. He felt more than heard the Potions Master pacing in front of him.

"You are not concentrating, Potter. It was my hope that after all our discussions you would at least be able to grasp the basic idea behind Occlumency with a somewhat firmer hold. As far as I can see you have regressed from where you were two years ago, a fact I would have believed to be impossible."

Harry couldn't argue with the man. It was the middle of August and Harry was no closer to mastering Occlumency now than he had been the first day of their lessons.

They had begun Occlumency and defense training on the thirty-first as Harry had requested, and hadn't stopped until dinner, where Remus had given him a warm greeting and frowned at Snape for keeping him so long on his birthday.

But Harry had been quick to come to the man's defense. He had firmly stated that he had needed to begin the lessons as soon as Snape had been capable, and since the Potions Master had been fully healed, there was no reason not to work as hard as possible for as long as possible. Especially since Snape had been so willing to teach him this time.

When they had first agreed to start his lessons, Harry had been certain they would be much easier. He hadn't had any doubt they would be challenging but they'd been discussing the theory behind Occlumency all month, in ways they hadn't back when Snape had hated him. Harry was sure that these lessons would be just like their potion-making sessions; full of mirth, with Harry succeeding at some things and Snape patiently helping him with those he did not.

He had been wrong.

Defense had taken up the entire morning, from just after breakfast until lunch. And Harry had excelled, Snape had even said so. When he hadn't picked up a spell or theory, a simple explanation or redefinition had usually been enough for Harry to be able to understand and accomplish what Snape had asked. Both Harry and Snape had been pleased that he could quickly pick up material that most wizards had difficulty with.

It was a wonderful bonus that Snape had said he was 'not completely terrible at the discipline.' The man might as well have thrown him a parade for all Harry ate up the praise.

Occlumency, however, had been another story. Harry had fully expected to be able to apply the lessons and discussions he'd had with Snape over the previous month and a half to their practical sessions. He had thought that the two things would simply flow together after all he had learned.

Harry had been very wrong.

"I am trying! I don't understand what I'm doing wrong. Look, I understand what you're telling me- hell, Snape, I've understood it for weeks now!"

"Language, Potter!"

Harry wiped some sweat off his brow and leaned back in his chair, still trying to catch his breath. "I'm trying to tell you that I don't understand what I'm doing wrong. You say that you're actually trying to teach me this time-"

Harry stopped himself as Snape looked down to sneer at him. Harry shuddered and put his head down, not wanting the man to grow angrier with him.

That had been the worst change of all.

Harry had been in Snape's presence constantly since June, and in that time Harry had grown somewhat confident in his friendship with the Potions Master. The man had opened up his home for Harry's sake after Ron had died, and Harry had been grateful. But even more than simple gratitude was the fact that Harry had grown close to Snape.

He'd made a friend.

The quiet talks they had shared every morning and night had been precious to Harry, and he had soaked up the Potions Master's presence as much as he could. There was a peace and understanding between them that Harry didn't quite understand, and the times when Snape allowed him to touch him were like nothing he'd ever experienced before. He didn't know why he felt different touching Snape than when he touched anyone else. He only knew that he loved Snape's hands; loved the feel of his cloak on his fingers and loved how Snape would look at him when he touched him. He could never explain that look, he only knew it gave him the most curious feelings. But what he did know was that Snape had been his friend.

Had been.

The usually very reserved man had occasionally allowed his barriers to slip, and Harry had witnessed something kind and beautiful in the Potions Master. Something that Harry was certain only he could see.

And he was absolutely terrified of all of that ending. For the past two weeks their evening conversations had consisted of revising Occlumency until Harry was mentally as well as physically exhausted. The quiet talks and relaxing evenings they had shared had become a thing of the past, and Harry mourned their loss.

Two weeks ago he had been sure of the Potions Master's esteem; now he was not nearly so certain. The truth was Harry was completely terrified of losing Snape's friendship permanently if he didn't get Occlumency down soon.

"We have discussed this topic to the point where you should be able to write tomes on it, Potter. You are simply not trying hard enough," Snape said once again, a familiar sneer plastered on his face.

Harry hated it. He hated how Snape was once again treating him as "Potter," the only son of his oldest enemy. Before this summer, Harry had hated the way Snape had treated him- hated even the Potions Master himself- because of the unfairness of it all; it wasn't his fault that James Potter had treated him poorly.

But he hated it so much more now that he knew he could never hate the Potions Master again. If he could have had one wish in that moment, while Snape loomed over him, frustration and disappointment coloring his features, it wouldn't have been the death of Voldemort. All he wanted in that moment was the ability to block the Potions Master's attacks and to see the anger fade from those black eyes.

Harry put his face in his hands and leaned down in his chair. "I am, Snape. I swear I am. I'm just not good at this."

"Good has nothing to do with it, boy! This is a skill to be learned, not something that is acquired naturally. You cannot bring yourself to put effort into anything that does not come easily to you." Snape's robes swept around him as he walked around his office and approached Harry's chair.

"Only once you discover an affinity for something do you even attempt to hone those skills. Think of the two things you excel at: quidditch and defense. Both things come naturally to you. And perhaps you have worked to improve at them, but you have never had to try as hard for anything in your life as you must now."

Harry nodded. He knew what Snape was saying was true, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. If only he could block a little, make some small improvement, maybe Snape would stop looking at him the way he was now.

Like he hated him.

Harry continued to keep his head down, not wanting to look Snape in the eye. He was terrified at what he was sure he'd see there.

Just one kind word, Harry thought. Just some sign that he doesn't hate me again.

Please.

"Anything to say for yourself, Potter?" Snape growled, standing close enough that Harry could feel as his robes swayed towards him. If this had occurred two weeks ago, he'd have looked up at Snape and laughed. He couldn't do that now.

He'd asked for this, he reminded himself. He knew that he had hidden out for far too long. They needed to do this, Harry thought. It was necessary.

But did it have to come at the expense of something he held so dear? Would the price of learning Occlumency be the one friendship he treasured above all others?

As much as he loved Hermione, he had to admit to himself that he held Snape closer. Snape, who had suffered as he had suffered; Snape, who was in as much, if not more, danger than himself. Snape, who knew what the cold grasp of prophecy and Fate felt like.

Suddenly something occurred to Harry. All his past conversations with Snape about Fate flooded his mind, and Harry heard the Potions Master's voice echoing in his head, telling him repeatedly about this thing they were both caught in the middle of, this Fate that Harry didn't entirely understand, even now. It was the only thing he could think of that could explain his continuing failure.

"Maybe... Maybe I'm not supposed to learn this."

Snape stopped his pacing, his entire body jerking to a sudden halt. "What did you say?" His voice was a harsh whisper, his eyes cold as he turned his gaze upon Harry.

Harry looked up and sure enough, the Potions Master's glare was enough to cause him to shudder in his chair. But Harry straightened and didn't back down.

"I said, maybe I'm not supposed to learn this. What if it's fate that I don't learn Occlumency? I mean, if we're both trying so hard and it's still not coming at all, then maybe... Maybe that's how Vol- You-Know-Who is going to get to me in the end. What if I'm not supposed to be able to do this?"

It was the only thing he could think of, the only thing that explained why this wasn't working now that he was trying his hardest to learn and Snape was trying just as hard to teach him. He held Snape's gaze, waiting for the inevitable explosion.

He didn't have to wait long.

"You believe you're not supposed to learn Occlumency? You would dare blame your inability to master the simplest of Occlumentic concepts on prophecy? Claim that your ignorance is meant to be? That it's due to Fate?" Snape spat out the words, and Harry had to stop himself from wiping spittle from his face.

"You... stupid, lazy child." Snape stood over Harry, and he could see his teeth as the man growled at him. "Do you still believe that Fate will aid you in this fight, boy? That you are special, and can sit back and wait for the end to come and that all will miraculously work out in your favor?"

Harry shook his head. That wasn't exactly what he'd meant. "No, I just-"

"You know nothing of Fate or prophecy. Do you still not understand what I have told you? Did that feeble brain of yours not deign to listen to one word I said on the train? Did you simply close your ears when we spoke in the infirmary? Prophecies are self-fulfilling; the fact that you have been foretold to kill or be killed by the Dark Lord does not guarantee it will come to pass." Snape paced the area in front of Harry like a caged animal. "And should some miracle occur and the prophecy is fulfilled, would you not like to meet your opponent possessing the necessary skills to defeat him on your own instead of simply hoping that Fate will do it for you? Will you truly stop practicing the magic most necessary to your continued survival on the chance that Fate may have deemed it unnecessary?"

"No, but I-"

Snape raised his hand sharply, cutting Harry off. "Tell me, do you honestly believe the drivel that just came from your mouth, Potter?"

Harry stared at the Potions Master as he sneered at Harry, as all the old hate and vitriol returned. Harry lamented the loss of their easy camaraderie. He wanted to turn away, to not see Snape's eyes grow cold as he stared down at Harry and the man grew further and further away from him.

But he wouldn't lie to him. And there had to be some reason why he couldn't learn Occlumency, some reason why this was so difficult.

Harry sighed. "I believe that you're trying your hardest to teach me, Professor," Harry said, and the use of his title wasn't lost on Snape. "And I truly am trying to learn this. I listen to everything you say, I clear my mind before I sleep every night. I'm trying to block but... I'm just not getting it. And I thought that just maybe, there was a reason for that."

Snape did not visibly react to Harry's words at first. He continued to stare down at him, his eyes cold and menacing and his hands in fists by his side. Then he lowered his wand, grabbed a chair, and sat down in front of Harry.

Harry watched as Snape's shoulders fell a bit and he rubbed his temples in frustration. Harry felt incredibly guilty at all he was putting the man through. He knew that Snape had a vested interest in Harry's success in the war, but that didn't mean he had to allow Harry all he did. The only time the two were separate, even now, was when either of them was in the bathroom and at night when they slept. And as much as Harry hated the way Snape had been looking at him since his daily failures at Occlumency had begun, he hated the idea of being away from the man even more.

"Let me ask you a question, Potter and bear with me, please." Harry blinked and sat back in his chair.

That was the most civil the potions professor had sounded outside of his quarters in two weeks.

Harry nodded and motioned for the man to speak. Snape steepled his hands, leaned back in his chair, and asked, "Tell me, Potter- are you an animal?"

Harry visibly flinched and could not help repeating, "An animal?"

"Yes, Potter," Snape answered. "Are you an animal?" he clearly enunciated.

Harry frowned and shook his head, not sure he understood. "No."

"I ask because only an animal would give up control of their life. Only an animal would not wish to take responsibility for how his life, or in your case, death, would play out. Do you understand?"

Harry didn't. Very aware that his confusion would anger the Potions Master, Harry let out a soft, "No."

Snape was silent for a moment as he tapped his mouth with one finger. Harry watched the wayward digit hit his lips until they began to move again.

"Do you understand the difference between an animal and a human being?" Harry looked up through the black, sweat-soaked hair that was hanging in front of his eyes and considered the man in front of him. He had no idea how to respond, or what Snape wanted to hear.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

Snape acknowledged that with a nod and said, "An animal does not have free will. It is a slave to its instincts and reactions. Its brain functions do not allow for thoughts other than survival and continuation of its species."

Harry silently acknowledged what Snape was saying with a nod of his head, not knowing how else to respond to what the man was saying.

Snape sighed loudly and rubbed his temples before looking up and considering Harry again, determination etched into his features. "Another question. You are walking through the woods and you become caught in a trap; the kind that men use to trap bears and other large predators. You do not have your wand and there is no help for miles around. What would you do?"

Harry lifted his eyebrows at the odd question. Hadn't they just been discussing Fate a moment ago? Harry had no idea what Snape was talking about and could not hide that fact from showing on his face.

"Let me make this easier for you to understand." Harry's eyes met the floor. Unlike in previous weeks, he did not laugh at the Potions Master's reference to his lack of intelligence.

"Perhaps it's a different kind of trap, different circumstances. You and your friends are trapped in Riddle Manor and you do not have your wand. You do, however, have some sort of sharp object. So I ask you, would you cut off your foot to escape from the trap or would you stay in order to kill the Death Eater when he returned and help the other captives?"

Harry raised his gaze from the ground, alarmed at the question Snape had just posed. "Cut off my own foot?" Harry repeated in indignation, having no idea how Snape had come from Occlumency to self-mutilation.

Snape sighed in frustration. "It's a metaphor, Potter; a hypothetical question. I am sure you will never actually be in a situation where you would have to cut off your own foot." Snape removed his face from his hands and looked up at Harry. "And cease your attempts to determine the relation to Occlumency and simply answer me."

Harry blinked as he tried to wrap his mind around Snape's question. "I'd stay, I guess," Harry answered slowly. "I'd stay and try and outsmart the Death Eater and help to free the others."

"Precisely. You would do that to eliminate the threat to your friends... because you are not an animal. You would not simply do the first thing that came to mind. You would not succumb to your animal instincts and allow all thought to leave that underused brain of yours. An animal seeks only to survive, to do the least possible to ensure that end. This is what you are doing with Occlumency. You have built your life around this prophecy, assuming it will come to pass on its own- but it will not. You must work to that end. Do you understand?"

Harry's mind was trying to keep up with what Snape was saying. He had no desire to anger the man, especially when he was no longer yelling at Harry as he had been for these past two weeks. He struggled to think about what Snape had said again but couldn't concentrate. He was still too tired from the continuous attacks on his mind.

"No, I'm sorry, Snape, but I don't."

Snape sneered and bared his teeth again, and Harry flinched. Snape seemed to realize the turmoil Harry was feeling and sat back in his seat again, trying to distance himself from him.

Snape studied Harry from his chair, the sneer falling from his face. He put one long, potions-stained finger to his lip once again and tapped it rhythmically. Harry watched as the thin lips were mildly abused by the pale digit.

Suddenly, Snape's features hardened with determination. He stood up and walked over to the painting behind his desk, muttered something under his breath, and opened the safe behind it. Harry watched as the man put on the gloves that were lying in the safe and took out a jar. Snape carefully opened the jar, then put his gloved hand inside and took something out. He set the object gently on the desk before closing the jar and putting it back in the safe.

Then, short object in hand, he came towards Harry.

"Do you know what I now hold in my hand, Potter?"

Harry shook his head. It looked like some kind of needle or quill.

"This is a stinger from the knarl, whose spikes contain some of the most deadly venom in the world. They can be of use in several antidotes for highly toxic poisons and their use is heavily policed by the Ministry. One touch from the point of this would bring death to the affected person within moments." Snape leaned over and said in a voice that was almost a whisper, "But this particular stinger will kill only animals."

Harry shuddered, both at the dark tone Snape's words took and as the ominous look in his eye. "What?"

Snape turned back to his desk, opened the last drawer, and pulled out a white handkerchief and quill. He walked over and sat down in his chair in front of Harry and said, "Do not move."

The light sweat that had ceased started up again as Harry took in the warning tone and obeyed immediately. He watched as the hand that was not occupied with the stinger unfolded the handkerchief and laid it on Harry's left hand. He heard a snapping sound and turned just in time to see Snape toss the quill aside. The short stinger was in his left hand and he grasped his wand with his right.

Then Snape lifted his hand and put the stinger right next to Harry's neck.

Harry flinched.

"I said, do not move, boy! I am going to give you a little test, Potter. You seem to have great difficulty in understanding things without demonstration. I will therefore demonstrate for you the difference between a human and an animal."

Fresh sweat poured from Harry's brow. He felt the long fingers near his neck; felt them as they grazed the soft hairs that covered it but never came close enough to actually touch him. Snape's face was inches away from his, and his entire body was almost on top of him. The Potions Master placed the tip of his wand on top of his covered hand.

Harry distantly recalled being this close to Snape before, but under much different circumstances. Was it only two weeks ago that Snape had allowed Harry to sit this close to him? In that moment, it felt like it had been an eternity since he had been so close to this man.

"I hold at your neck one of the most potent poisons in the world. This test will determine if you are capable of resisting your animalistic instincts. Your instinct will be to remove your hand from beneath my wand. The rules of this test are simple: if you do not move, I shall not prick you. Move and you will die."

"What?" Harry tried to move away but Snape snarled and used just the tip of one of his fingers to keep Harry in place.

It worked. Though Harry was sure Snape wouldn't actually kill him, his body went into fight-or-flight mode and instantly stilled upon feeling the cool digit on the soft part of his neck.

"Silence, Potter, silence! You think this is some game? You think I would leave the fate of the wizarding world in the hands of some animal? Some beast with no care in the world and no brain to survive the war he finds himself in the middle of?"

"You wouldn't hurt me! You wouldn't! Not after-"

"Wouldn't I? I have spent the last seventeen years of my life trying to atone for my sins, trying to protect you in any way I could, and I'll be damned if I'll have given my life only for you to squander it needlessly!"

"No one's asking you to give up your life!"

"Silence! You will be silent, Potter, you imbecilic twit, and do what you do best- learn by example! We shall see whether you are truly human or not."

Harry's breath came out in pants, his mind whirling. There was no way Snape would ever harm him, he was sure of it. But- The man was going very far to prove his point. Harry stilled and tried to slow his breathing, waiting for Snape to begin his test. Harry was sure that if anyone were to walk in right now they would be an odd sight to behold: Harry panting and panicked with sweat dripping down his brow, and Snape holding his hand at his neck with his wand trained on Harry's left hand. Add to that their proximity and yes, they'd make an odd sight indeed.

Harry knew he should calm down, but he couldn't. He was sure Snape wouldn't hurt him but he could still sense something important was happening. Maybe Snape wouldn't kill him if he failed the test but... He'd definitely lose respect for him. Any good thoughts Snape might have had about Harry would be destroyed if he proved to be what Snape feared he was. And then everything Harry had gained in the past months would be gone; he'd be alone again.

Somehow death didn't seem so bad all of a sudden.

"You will feel... a soft touch on your hand... there."

Harry moved only his eyes to look down upon feeling a feather-soft touch on his hand right where the tip of Snape's wand rested. The touch wasn't bad at all; it was actually quite pleasant. It felt like the Potions Master's fingers were touching him as they had when he'd grasped his hand in the past.

"Don't become used to that, Potter." Harry's eyes snapped up to meet the Potions Master's. "This is only the beginning." Snape glared at Harry, never taking his black eyes off Harry's green. "The touch becomes a tickling."

Harry fought not to flinch when the touch began to tickle his hand. He looked back down to his hand to see if Snape was actually touching it, but Snape's wand was still where it had been, and he met those dark eyes again through his fringe. They were cold and determined, but Harry was just as determined to pass this test. Maybe he couldn't understand Occlumency, maybe he wasn't as smart as Snape, and maybe he didn't learn quite as well as Snape thought he should... But he could do this.

Harry gritted his teeth as determination took over his countenance. There was no way he'd fail this. There was no chance that he'd fail Snape. Not now. Not after all Snape had given him.

"The tickling becomes an itching. Do you wish to scratch it, Potter?"

Harry wanted to nod. Yes, he wanted to scratch it. The itch was something horrible and he had to fight every instinct not to move a muscle.

"The itching becomes greater and greater until it becomes a slight... burning."

Harry's right hand became a fist and he bit his lip to keep from crying out. It wasn't a bad kind of burning, like the way he imagined fire would feel. It was more like the sting of a sunburn after getting under the shade. It was dulled but it was there, and he knew if Snape were to slap his hand he'd have to use every ounce of willpower to keep from flinching and moving his hand away.

He would not move his hand.

"The burning grows..." Snape gritted his teeth and continued whatever silent incantation he was using to make Harry feel this... strange almost-pain.

"Snape-" Harry started to say but immediately cut himself off when he felt a sort of tap on his burned hand and he used every ounce of control to keep from flinching. The pain wasn't horrible but it was there and it was steady... like someone slapping his hand repeatedly with a ruler.

Still, he didn't move; he knew Snape wouldn't truly hurt him. Just as he started to feel something like alcohol being poured on his burned hand, Harry truly took in the Potions Master's expression for the first time since he had begun the exercise. Snape's teeth were clenched and his trademark scowl was gone. What graced his features could only be described as a look of horror and pain. Snape no longer met his eyes, instead moving his gaze across his face, as if trying to sense how badly Harry was hurting.

But Harry could stand it. He'd stand all of this if only Snape would stop looking at him like he had been; stop treating him like he was some burden, some albatross tied around his neck.

Sweat was pouring from his brow, and Harry could have sworn he felt a bit of salt get into his wounds. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.

Snape was beginning to look sick.

Harry was visibly shaking but he held on with all his strength, determined to pass this test. Green eyes met black as Harry quietly pleaded, "You're hurting me."

Snape's wand hand shook. "Enough!" Snape moved his hand away from Harry's neck and quickly dropped the stinger on the floor.

Harry immediately fell back into his chair as the pain stopped, wiping the sweat from his brow with one hand while he examined the other- the one that had been hurting.

It was unmarked and looked exactly as it had prior to Snape covering it with his handkerchief.

"A spell that simulates mild pain," Snape said, slightly out of breath himself. "We can't go around maiming young humans, now can we, Potter?"

Harry looked up through his damp fringe and stared at Snape. He was unsure how to move, how to react now. Snape hadn't hurt him. He'd passed the Potions Master's test.

Snape was still looking at him strangely. Not with that awful cold stare but not as he had before either. Harry didn't know what to make of it, and was unsure as to where he stood with the Potions Master.

Finally, the man sighed, took off his gloves and put his hand over Harry's.

"Potter... Harry," Snape said, and Harry's eyes went wide. He hadn't called him Harry since that horrible day. And it had only been to get Harry's attention after a traumatic event.

Oh.

"Harry," Snape whispered softly, stroking the top of Harry's hand with his fingers. "I regret what I just did to you, but I had to make you understand. Prophecy is not something that can be assumed or hoped for. It is an unclear vision of a future that may not happen. You cannot put such faith in it. I realize that it is difficult... That your burden is not light. But you must carry it if you're to survive the coming battles. You must, Harry. If there is one thing I must impart to you, it is this."

Harry was silent. He didn't know if he could respond if he had to. All he was aware of was the adrenaline rush he was coming down from and the Potions Master's hand on his and his body so close to his own. He found himself calming as Snape continued his ministrations on Harry's hand.

"I will help you in any way I can but I cannot bear this cross for you. I will, however, do everything I am capable of to prepare you to do this on your own. Will that be acceptable?"

Harry nodded and turned his hand around, grabbing Snape's and lacing their fingers together. His hand was warm around Harry's own.

He understood.

Snape cleared his throat and released Harry's hand. Snape stood, and Harry's gaze fell to the desk. He blinked in shock, and when he opened his eyes the vision before him hadn't changed- the stinger Snape had removed from the cabinet, and a feathery end of a quill. His eyes darted to the floor as Snape put his gloves back on to pick up the stinger, and sure enough- there lay the broken end of the quill Snape had taken from his desk.

He blinked and stifled an exhausted chuckle.

Harry was admittedly much more shocked than he should have been, though he knew it shouldn't have surprised him in the least. The man was a spy, after all.

He continued to sit in his chair, catching his breath. And though Snape's test had left no residual pain, Harry said nothing as the Potions Master took out a burn salve and began slowly rubbing it into his hand.


**********************

Two weeks after Snape's harsh but necessary practical demonstration, Harry was still not able to block the man's initial attacks on his mind. Even now it took a strong emotional response to give Harry the willpower to push the Potions Master out. The pattern was always the same; Snape would slide through his memories like water over a rock and sort through mundane activities one after another until he found something traumatic enough to force Harry to react. His reaction time was becoming quicker as the days went by, but that was of no matter. Once the Dark Lord entered Harry's mind, all hope was lost- it didn't matter how long it took Harry to push him out afterward.

He would know exactly what to look for. Exactly which buttons to push and Harry would never know what hit him.

"Legilmens."

This time appeared to be no different as Snape infiltrated Harry's mind with the ease of a hot knife sliding through butter.

The sorting hat telling Harry that he'd do well in Slytherin, Granger opening the door on the third floor corridor with alohamora, Harry running through the maze during the third task, Harry being shielded by Snape's body as he felt a dead weight fall on him...

"No," Harry muttered, finally able to push the man from his mind.

Snape withdrew completely and shook his head. For two weeks it had been exactly the same. Sometimes it was Diggory, or Black or Weasley or seeing his parents in the Mirror of Erised- but it was always something that Harry was unwilling to relive that would finally give him what was needed to drive him out.

Snape had no idea how to teach mind magic to someone so ruled by their emotions. While learning Occlumency had been a challenge for him, it was nowhere near as impossible as Harry made it seem. The Potions Master had simply applied magic to the theory of the art and practiced; really it had only been a magical extension of what he had already been doing in his everyday life; hiding himself away. But Harry wore his heart on his sleeve, could not hide his every thought from showing on his face; and after a month of fruitless training, Snape was forced to conclude that Harry's personality was simply not conducive to this type of magic.

"Still inadequate, Potter. You are still incapable of resisting the initial invasion, and it continues to take you far too much time to force me out." Snape sighed and paced the room. "The Dark Lord would tear your mind to shreds within moments."

Harry wiped a light sheen of sweat off his brow with his sleeve then looked up to face Snape. The Potions Master was relieved to see his face was not as crestfallen as it had been in the weeks before.

Snape had hated having to treat Harry as he had those first two weeks. After nearly two months of waking up to a cheerful young wizard, a Harry that was flourishing in the dungeons under Snape's watchful eye, it had been almost physically painful to see him turn quiet and sullen. It was almost as if Harry had lost his best friend all over again.

Which was exactly how Snape had felt himself.

Gone had been the long talks on his sofa in the evenings and the times of companionable silence while brewing potions; they had been replaced by drumming theory after theory of Occlumency into Harry's fatigued mind long into the night. Snape had been exhausted and he knew Harry had been suffering that and more. He had hated to see the mournful looks on Harry's face, hated the sadness he saw there whenever Harry deigned to look him in the eye. Those times had grown more frequent as the days went by.

After two weeks of unproductive lessons, Snape had established for himself once again that Harry's Occlumency skills were abysmal. This realization had convinced Severus to do whatever was necessary to facilitate Harry's learning of Occlumency, and he had gone in to that awful lesson two weeks ago determined to drill the art into Harry's head if it killed him. Then Harry had opened his mouth and uttered the most idiotic thing he had ever heard.

And so on that fateful day, Snape had made a very daring move; a choice not many would have understood. He had risked Harry's hatred and loathing when he had taken that stinger from his safe. He had known the young man learned better with practical instruction, but he had also known that he was playing with fire. Harry would have had every right to hate him for causing him any kind of pain, nonetheless for threatening his life in the way he had.

But he had needed to understand that he could not put all his faith in the prophecy; simply hope that it would come true. He, of all people, needed to take responsibility for his life. And so Snape had done the only thing he could think of at the moment and threatened to end his life should he have proven to be anything less than what Snape knew he was.

No matter that it had been an eagle-feather quill by his neck the entire time. No matter that the young man had felt pain much worse than the stinging hexes Snape had cast on him.

He had caused Harry pain, and it had nearly torn the remains of his shattered soul to shreds. It had nearly killed him to see the panic in those green eyes, hear the fear in Harry's voice. He had seen Harry terrified and in pain before, but never by Snape's hand. He would have given anything to not have had to do what he had done.

But he had risked it. He would have risked Harry hating him a million times over just to see him safe. All that mattered to Snape was ensuring that Harry would indeed survive this war. If he lost Harry's goodwill in the process... Well, that would be just one more sacrifice he would have to make in the name of atonement, in the name of protecting Harry.

Snape snapped himself out of his thoughts in time to see Harry look up to offer him a weak smile, and he had to stop himself from smiling back; reassuring the young man with his presence as he had so many times before their practical lessons had started.

He was willing to sacrifice his closeness with Harry in the name of protecting him. All the same, he was eternally grateful that the gods did not appear to hate him entirely, and that Harry had understood the test and passed.

And if he had noticed that it was a quill by his neck the entire time, then all the better. Really, the half-wit should know by now that Snape would give his life for him. It wouldn't make sense to kill the brat after having risked his own life for him so many times.

"That was a bit better, wasn't it? I mean... er...." Harry trailed off as he took in Snape's frown. "No, then?"

"If that was an improvement, the headmaster's robes are tasteful. And what in Merlin's name was that damned patched monstrosity doing spewing lies that you would have done well in Slytherin?

Harry grinned and choked a bit as he stifled a chuckle.

Yes, that was back as well, though he didn't laugh as often as before. And though Snape stopped the smile from showing on his face, he knew he could not keep it from his eyes.

Suddenly there was a knock, and before Snape could so much as bark 'enter,' Remus Lupin walked through the door.

Snape had not felt so much venom for the man since their school days. Although he realized that he only saw Lupin twice a day at meals, it felt as if the man was trailing his steps constantly. Lupin had not sought Snape out the way the Potions Master had presumed he would. Perhaps that was because Harry was constantly in Snape's presence; Lupin would surely not wish to discuss such matters in front of him.

"Good evening, Harry, Severus," Lupin said, almost strolling through Snape's office.

The Potions Master sneered his greeting, and Harry sat up straighter in his chair.

"Hello, Remus," the young man said in a weak but bright voice.

Lupin frowned as he took in Harry's demeanor. "Are you alright, Harry?" He quickly looked between the two of them, no doubt casting blame on Snape for the young man's pale face and shaky disposition.

Which was where it belonged, but that was of no matter.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... still having trouble with Occlumency." Harry shrugged carelessly, as if he had this much difficulty with most of his studies.

"Still no progress, then?"

Snape gave a cutting "no" the same moment Harry issued a hesitant "um..."

Lupin chuckled. The sound of it reverberating in Snape's dungeons would surely begin to slowly destroy the very bricks that composed the walls.

"Well, I'm sure you'll get it soon enough, Harry," Lupin said with a cheerfulness that was completely unbecoming in Snape's opinion.

Harry's face fell and he looked over to Snape, who made an attempt to give him a look of reassurance even though he didn't feel any was warranted.

"Was there a reason for your interrupting our lessons with your tiresome presence or did you simply wake this morning with the sudden desire to be meddlesome and irritating?"

In the years since they had been colleagues, Lupin had taken to simply laughing off all of Snape's most cutting remarks, much to the Potions Master's chagrin. He really should have been quite pleased at the completely straight face Lupin was giving in response to his latest barb.

He was not.

"Yes, I actually did have a reason to come down." He turned toward Harry and said, "The headmaster would like you to see him in his office, Harry. He may have implied that you needed a bit of a break from Professor Snape." Lupin smiled as he spoke but the change in address was not lost on the Potions Master.

Harry stood on shaky legs that threatened to buckle for a moment. Both Snape and Lupin immediately lunged for him, but Harry righted himself and put up a hand.

"I'm fine. Just a bit tired, is all." Harry looked nervous as he looked to Snape and asked, "Will we be resuming our lessons when I come back?"

Snape looked at Lupin and then back at Harry. "I believe a small recess would not go amiss. I will be in my quarters when your return."

Harry eyes lit up and a small but noticeable smile played on his lips. He looked between Lupin and Snape and said, "Alright, see you then."

Lupin met Snape's eyes as his gaze left Harry.

Their silent stare remained unbroken for the time it took for Harry to slowly walk to the door and close it behind him.

And then it was just the two men, with a heavy silence hanging between them.

Severus wouldn't allow the wolf to pass judgment on him this time either- especially not in his own territory.

"Well, Lupin, you have played the role of errand boy admirably. I believe you know the way out of the dungeons." Snape began to step back around his desk to clean up after the day's lessons.

Lupin continued to look at him, though Snape was forced to acknowledge that it was not a hard stare. It was almost as if he was studying Snape.

"We need to talk, Severus."

"No, we do not and we will not," Snape said from behind his desk. He could feel his temper threatening to get away from him and he struggled to calm himself.

"We do and we will. You've been avoiding me for weeks."

Snape banged his fist on the desk and said in a voice close to a shout, "I've done no such thing! It is no fault of mine if you have somehow acquired some fool idea into that lupine brain of yours. I will not have you attack me in my own home."

"I have no desire to attack you, Severus. But I do have questions and I need answers," Lupin said, his voice infuriatingly calm.

"What questions could you possibly have that I would be willing to answer? What perceived wrongdoings have you assigned to me? Because I assure you there are none."

Perhaps that last part was not completely true, Snape thought. After all, he knew that his feelings for Harry were not even close to acceptable. He knew that his desire in and of itself was the most horrible of sins, but he was hardly going to confess that to Lupin or allow questions on the topic to be voiced.

"I'm not accusing you of anything, Severus... Love is not a crime."

Snape stiffened. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus. A blind man could tell you're in love with Harry."

And just like that, the filthy thing that Snape had kept trapped in the dark for nearly three months was let out into the open with no way to force it back into its shady hiding place.

Snape summoned his darkest glare and forced a snide laugh. "If you believe that, you truly are a fool. I am no more besotted with Potter than I am with Black's dead, decaying corpse."

The vicious attack on the dog had no effect on Lupin, seeming to go in one ear and out the other without connecting to his brain at all. A dozen scathing retorts concerning a werewolf's brain functions died on Snape's lips as Lupin spoke again.

"Your patronus is a doe, Severus."

"Yes, it is," Snape said without hesitation.

"Harry's patronus is a stag."

"Yes, and your patronus is a wolf. By your line of logic you must be a greater narcissist than Lucius Malfoy." Snape sneered when Lupin once again did not react to his remark. "Or perhaps it's not a wolf. Perhaps it's some flea-ridden mutt of a dog with even less sense than its animagus counterpart."

Lupin again ignored his comment, which only annoyed Snape more. "Your patronus was always a raven, Severus. And then Harry came to live with you and it became a doe." Lupin put a up a hand and said, "Please don't try to deny it, Severus. It's not just that your patronus has changed. I've seen it with my own eyes."

Snape lifted an eyebrow with a false sense of haughtiness as he took in Lupin's words. That last statement was an utter falsehood, he was sure of it. He had never laid a hand on Harry in Lupin's presence, and even when he had... Well, perhaps the touches had not been innocent but they certainly could not be proof of any wrongdoing. Snape's conscience and iron-clad self-control may have suffered due to Harry's continued presence, but there was no way Lupin could be aware of that.

"I never took you for a liar, Lupin."

This time the slight was noted.

"I'm not the man who's made a career of lying, Severus. I saw you... That day in the corridor in front of Dumbledore's office. I don't know what you were talking about but I saw you."

Snape frowned, confused though he refused to show it.

"I have no idea what you're rambling on about. You saw what, Lupin?"

Remus sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Is there no way we can sit for this discussion, Severus?"

"If you're waiting for me to invite you to my quarters and break out the good tea you will be waiting a very long time."

Lupin sighed again and leaned against the chair Harry had been sitting in. Snape glared at the sight of Lupin touching what was essentially Harry's.

"There," Lupin said as he pointed a finger at him. "Right there. You don't even know you're doing it, do you?"

Snape knew exactly what he had been caught doing but would be damned if he would admit it. "You should end your incessant rambling before I do it for you."

Lupin shook his head in exasperation. "The day you sent me your patronus, Severus. The day you sent me the doe you were out walking the corridor with Harry. He was... almost dancing around you and waving his wand around like a sword, and I saw you." Remus waited until Snape looked him in the eye, realization coming over the Potions Master.

"I saw the way you were looking at him. I've never seen you look at anyone like that, Severus. In fact, I've seen that look on a person's face precious few times in my life. I saw James look at Lily that way. I've seen Molly look at Arthur. I may have never had it for myself, but I know what love looks like."

Snape forced himself out of his slightly shocked state to snarl, "I do not wish to hear about the sorry state of your love life, Lupin, nor do I have the desire to wax poetic with idiotic old schoolmates; especially not those that once tried to kill me."

"I know you're in love with him, Severus. We both know it, so why won't you admit it? If you think that I'm angry or that I'll tell-"

"I do not care what you feel about things you have imagined in that lycanthropic brain of yours, Lupin. Potter is my student and my charge. If you have mistaken the desire not to see him perish by the hand of the Dark Lord for anything else, it is no problem of mine."

"You are in love with him, Severus... And Harry is in love with you."

Snape could not prevent the snap of his jaw as the next scathing retort he had on his lips faded into nothingness at Lupin's proclamation. He could not help visibly stiffening for a fraction of a second, or keep his eyes from opening wider or his nostrils from flaring as his entire body seemed to stand on end at the lie that had just left Lupin's lips.

"No, he is not," Snape said darkly.

Lupin smiled, sadly and nodded. "Yes, he is." The other man crossed his arms over his chest and continued to look Snape in the eye. "But he doesn't realize it. It's almost tragic that a young man so capable of love doesn't realize what it is when it's standing right in front of him."

Snape breathed deeply and forced his body to relax. Lupin was lying. Harry was not in love with him. There was no way in all the seven layers of hell that Harry could ever return his feelings. He shuddered to think what level of torment he would be condemned to if anything he had said or done had engendered such feelings in the young man.

Please, no.

"He is not," Snape said in a far less convincing tone than he had used earlier. He could almost feel the anger at his current situation drain from him as something more horrifying, more impossible, more vexing came in to take residence in his chest.

It felt like hope.

Snape immediately smashed it down.

"Potter's not even gay."

Lupin hummed noncommittally. "No, maybe not but I wouldn't really know. We've never discussed it." Lupin paused, considering something. "We've never discussed the topic of sex or his preferences at all now that I think about it. But I hardly think it matters. The fact remains that he is in love with you."

"It hardly matters? Perhaps you have even less experience in these matters than I would have assumed a man your age would have."

Lupin chucked under his breath. "He's with you constantly, Severus, and when he's not he can't stop talking about you. You were all he wanted to talk about when we spent time together. Whatever his preferences in general are, it's clear that he wants you." Lupin paused for a moment, then laughed. "Come to think of it, I probably know more about you than you'd like me to know."

Snape tried to sound angry but it sounded forced even to him. "What lies has Potter been spewing about me?"

Lupin chuckled lightly. "Nothing too personal. I'm sure he would never betray your secrets willingly, but he lets things slip sometimes." Lupin thought for a moment and said, "I know you have black house slippers."

Snape scoffed. It would figure that Harry would reveal something like that.

"Severus," Lupin said, serious again, "I know you both have strong feelings for each other. But I need to know... You'll not act on it, will you?"

Snape did not have to falsify his anger now. He was unsure what part of Lupin's question angered him more; the idea that he was so ridiculously unworthy of Harry or the insinuation that he would ever tarnish anyone so pure and beautiful with his vile affections.

"Let me put your simple mind at ease, Lupin," Snape sneered in a low voice, all but growling as he moved to stand closer to Lupin. "I will not taint the boy wonder whom you cherish so much that you did not wonder after his welfare for the first thirteen years of his life." Lupin frowned, and Snape knew he had found a weak spot.

Snape moved closer and loomed over the smaller man as he said softly, "I assure you that these bloodied hands will never touch your savior. There does not exist a situation in which I would... defile him with such attentions. So please, Lupin, put it out of your mind. The filthy, traitorous spy will never lay a finger on your precious Boy Who Lived."

Snape stood up straight and remained completely still, glaring at Lupin and baring his teeth.

There.

If that didn't satisfy the werewolf, nothing would.

Lupin's face was sad and he shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Severus. Is that why you think I object? Because I think... Because I hold you in that regard?" Lupin looked almost hurt at the idea. "Do you truly believe I think that of you?"

Snape would have been more shocked, but after the revelation Lupin had voiced only moments ago it seemed nothing could shock him now.

"Then why the objection? Why the dramatics, coming into my dungeons and pestering me like I'm some errant school boy?"

Lupin sighed deeply and leaned heavily on the chair. The full moon had just passed, Snape recalled, and Lupin tired easily.

"I think you're a very good man, Severus. And I truly believe you are much too hard on yourself," Lupin said softly.

Snape scoffed and lifted an eyebrow.

"You are a good man, Severus. What else could you be, risking your life as a spy in the enemy's camp while protecting Harry as furiously as you do? You're right, Severus; I wasn't there for Harry. Not like you were. If you think that's gone unnoticed then you're mistaken."

Snape frowned in misunderstanding. If Lupin held him in such high regard, why did he object so strongly to his feelings?

Lupin stopped him from opening his mouth with a raised hand. "It's not some misconceived notion that you are some evil man, Severus. You're not. Your past actions haven't tarnished you so greatly that everything you've done since hasn't made up for it. You've done enough good to make up for your past ten times."

Snape stood silently, listening to Lupin ramble on.

"And as for the difference in your ages... You would only have to wait a year for Harry to finish school and that's not very long at all. And well, Harry is very mature for his age and I could perhaps understand why he would want someone with a... past similar to yours. You do have much in common, Severus."

"It nearly sounds like you've come here to play matchmaker, Lupin. Come to a point or remove yourself from my presence!"

"My point, Severus, is that there's really only one reason why I wouldn't approve of a relationship developing- in a year or two- between the two of you." Remus met Snape's eyes as he said, "Frankly, Severus, you have more self-loathing than any other person I've ever known."

Snape blinked.

"You hate yourself, Severus. You could never be good for Harry because you'll never let go of the sins of your past. You have a hard time forgiving others, and a far more difficult time forgiving yourself. You place the weight of the world upon your shoulders, and blame yourself for every act of violence Voldemort has ever committed."

Snape wanted to sneer, to yell at Lupin, to demand he not utter the Dark Lord's name, but he could not. The Potions Master stood completely still, his trademark sarcasm deserting him.

"You could never give Harry the open and trusting relationship he deserves, Severus. Could you ever truly accept his feelings for you? Could you allow yourself to have a healthy, loving relationship with him? I don't think you could, Severus. I think your determination to punish yourself for all your sins, real and imaginary, outweighs everything else- even your love for Harry. If he told you that he loved you, Severus, would you even believe him?"

Snape wanted to issue some scathing retort at the wolf but none would leave his lips. He wanted to yell at the man for interfering in his life, wanted to call him an overly dramatic Gryffindor, wanted to curse his tongue out, wanted to tell him to shut up, wanted to tell him it wasn't true.

In the end Snape could only shake his head.

Lupin smiled very sadly. "I know. And I wish it wasn't true. You deserve happiness, Severus. But you could only ever hurt him if you can't accept what he would so joyfully give you."

Remus bowed his head and started slowly walking toward the door. He opened it and walked out into the hall but paused before closing it. Unable to do anything else, Snape met that piercing brown stare.

"Promise me, Severus. Promise me you won't start something you can't see through. Promise me you won't hurt him."

Snape swallowed down the bile that was threatening to rise up from his throat. He turned to Lupin and said in a rough voice, "It would take an act of God for me to touch him."

Right after Snape said the words, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise on their ends and a soft whisper in his ear.

He ignored it and continued to stare at the closed door long after Lupin had left.

***************************

Harry slowly walked along the corridor to Dumbledore's office. Since the beginning of the summer his relationship with the headmaster had improved, but not by leaps and bounds. They did understand each other slightly better and made more of an effort in their conversations now.

As he turned a corner, Harry couldn't help but think to himself that, while he believed the headmaster was keeping his promise to keep Harry informed, his overall attitude toward Harry had changed little since the end of the last year. Harry was glad that Dumbledore was no longer trying to plan his life for him but he doubted the old man had changed much, if at all.

Harry tried to convince himself that Dumbledore's promise to him was enough for the moment but if he was totally honest he was still angry that the headmaster had planned on keeping Snape in the dark in regard to the Malfoy situation.

He knew the new school year would pose a great threat to Snape with his obsessive student returning, and Harry again resolved to protect Snape at all costs.

He planned to be there, watching Snape's back the way the man had done for him all these years. It was time Harry returned the favor; not to mention he had no idea what he'd do without the man.

He sighed as his thoughts turned to his own trepidation concerning the new school year. He'd be leaving Snape's rooms in favor of returning to his dorm in Gryffindor tower.

The weight of Ron being gone was already laying heavily on him. He'd be with his roommates and Hermione, but... Not Ron. And the idea of sleeping in the bed that had stood next to his friend's for so many years disturbed Harry to no end. It would be hard enough entering the dorm and pretending that nothing had happened, but add to that the fact that he'd have to leave Snape... And the idea of the upcoming term was almost too painful to bear.

He had no desire to leave the man's presence. Harry spent nearly all his waking hours with him, and still it didn't feel like enough. He knew that this was partially due to the change in their routine; they had lessons all day, and their nightly chats were mostly about Occlumency now. By the time Snape considered the day's topics fully reviewed they were usually too tired to keep their eyes open, much less get a conversation going.

He missed the man terribly even though he saw him every day.

Harry didn't understand it; he'd never felt this way about any of his other friends before. Was there something beyond than just fledgling friendship between them?

Harry muttered the password and rode up the staircase to Dumbledore's office, attempting to clear his mind from thoughts of Snape so he could concentrate on whatever the headmaster was about to tell him. He schooled his features into relaxed friendliness and opened the door.

"Good evening, Harry," the headmaster proclaimed, happily motioning for Harry to take his usual seat. "Tea, my boy?"

For once Harry was glad to accept the headmaster's usual offer. "Yes, please."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, I imagine that you're quite glad to have a break from your lessons. I thought you could use the opportunity to stretch your legs, and decided to call you here for a little chat."

Harry frowned. Did Dumbledore think he was doing him a favor by taking him away from Snape and their lessons?

"So tell me, Harry, are you looking forward to the school year?"

Harry barely stifled an eye roll at the question. What was Dumbledore on about?

"Well, sir, to be honest I'm not as enthusiastic as I usually am." Harry left the headmaster to interpret that how he would.

"No, I imagine you wouldn't be," he said, his voice taking on a somber tone. "I will remain available to you, my boy, should you ever need an ear to listen. I'm sure the same goes for Severus. I understand the two of you have become good friends over the summer?"

Harry wanted to smile and say yes, but also did not want to assume his place in the Potions Master's life, especially now that the summer was over.

"I think we've finally been able to get past our differences, and we get along well most of the time," Harry said as he smiled softly.

"Splendid. Remus has told me that you have flourished since your descent into the dungeons. I've always thought that you and Severus would get along splendidly if given the opportunity. I told you to have faith, didn't I, my boy?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he leaned back in his chair and Harry thought he looked very proud of himself.

Harry fought a Snape-like scoff. The headmaster could hardly take credit for his friendship with Snape. Not unless he wanted to take responsibility for what had happened in Hogsmeade in June.

Harry simply nodded, eyes absentmindedly running over the headmaster's desk. He froze when he saw the book from the library, the one Malfoy had gotten his hands on, laying there under a pile of parchment.

"The book?" Harry said, unable to stop himself.

Dumbledore glanced in the direction Harry was looking and freed the book from the stack of papers it was trapped under.

"Yes, the book, Harry." Dumbledore seemed much wearier now than he had a moment ago. "I've been reading it, hoping to jog my memory, trying to help Severus in any way I can." The headmaster sighed as he ran a hand over the book. "I'm afraid there are just too many ways to bind a man to ensure that there is no way Draco can hurt poor Severus."

Harry frowned and looked the headmaster in the eye. "He's not going to hurt Snape," Harry said confidently, shaking his head. "I won't let him."

Dumbledore nodded, his gaze assessing. He frowned and looked at Harry as though he was seeing him for the first time. Harry had the distinct feeling he was being studied, and quashed the desire to squirm under the man's scrutiny.

"Yes, Severus has gained quite the protector in you, I can see." Dumbledore sat back in his chair and he regarded Harry silently, an odd gleam in his eye. "You've come to care a great deal for Severus haven't you, Harry?

Harry nodded and the headmaster smiled. He was silent for another moment and then broke his gaze, beginning to fiddle with his paperwork.

"Well, if you're done with your tea..."

"I am, and thank you, headmaster."

"Not at all, Harry. Not at all." Harry stood and turned toward the stairs, but before he could start down them Dumbledore called after him. "Oh, and Harry? Would you be so kind as to tell Severus I'd like a word when he has a moment?"

Harry nodded again and began to make his way towards the dungeons, but not before resting his gaze on that book one last time. He renewed his silent vow to keep Snape safe. He wouldn't lose the Potions Master to anyone, least of all Draco Malfoy.

****************************

Snape grumbled to himself as he trudged his way through the remaining steps that separated the headmaster's office and his quarters. Their meeting, if it could be called that, had been mercifully short. What it had lacked in duration, however, it had more than made up in inanity.

The headmaster was apparently very concerned with how close he and Harry had become. When the headmaster had made the purpose of their meeting clear, Snape had reinforced his mental shields to a degree he never had outside of the Dark Lord's presence. He had feared that Lupin had gone to the headmaster after all.

But his fear had quickly been replaced by incredulity. Dumbledore's suggestion- that Harry would think to risk his life for Snape's sake- was almost more ridiculous than Lupin's claim that the young man was in love with him. Harry's life was worth more than a his a thousand times over, and Snape was sure he knew it.

Snape scoffed at the thought, but then- there were so many things Harry ought to know that he clearly did not, and the boy had a noble streak a mile wide. Perhaps Dumbledore's concerns had merit- he'd discuss them with Harry.

Snape wearily stepped through the door to his quarters and opened his mouth to speak to-

A sleeping Harry.

Snape stopped in his tracks. Over the past few months he had rarely had the opportunity to see the young man in slumber. Harry was usually very good about being awake by the time the Potions Master made his way to the sitting room, he hadn't often had the opportunity to see the object of his desire in such a relaxed state.

He allowed himself to draw closer to the young man sprawled on the sofa and studied Harry as thought he would never lay eyes on him again.

He still looked so fatigued. Though their lessons had improved somewhat as of late, they were still draining on both of them. Snape took in the messy hair and atrocious glasses, the closed eyes and dark lashes falling beautifully over pale skin. Perfect lips simply because they were Harry's; it was of no matter that they were pale and chapped at the moment. Snape knew instinctively that they would flourish under his attentions. His eyes skimmed the broad shoulders and strangely muscled arms that he knew to be firm to the touch but looked thin under the too-large shirt the young man was wearing.

Realizing he had been staring for some time, Snape thought that perhaps he could have this conversation with Harry tomorrow before sending the young man back to Gryffindor Tower. Sighing softly, he found himself dreading sending the young man back. As much as he hated teaching Harry Occlumency, he would rather suffer through a thousand pointless lessons than not see the young Gryffindor at all.

He reached across Harry to pull a blanket down over him when suddenly the younger man moved, stretching and yawning. Green eyes fluttered open and took in the man who was still looming over him.

Harry smiled and opened his arms, looking as if he were about to embrace Snape. The Potions Master immediately drew back and dropped the blanket on Harry, who blinked and sat up.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. I was just... really tired." He covered his mouth as he yawned. "How was your talk with the headmaster? You weren't gone for long, were you?"

Snape shook his head. "No, I was not. And it was less of a talk and more of an inquisition, and equally as painful."

Harry frowned. "Oh, well don't feel too bad." Harry squirmed a moment and then looked up hesitantly through his fringe. "After all, no one expect the Spanish Inquisition."

Snape cocked an eyebrow.

"Their chief weapon is surprise."

This time Snape could not help as his mouth quirked up into a small smile, completely against his will.

"And fear."

"We are not getting into this again, Potter." Snape looked over to Harry and was taken aback at what he saw. Harry was beaming at him and smiling like Christmas had come early. He realized then that he still had a smile on his face. He wiped it off immediately but Harry remained smiling.

"The headmaster is concerned with your welfare," Snape said, a very serious look on his face. Harry frowned. "He fears that, were Draco to attempt to harm me in the year ahead, you would put yourself at risk in some ridiculous attempt to rescue me."

Harry's frown deepened. "Of course I would. If you think I'm going to let that little ferret-"

"No, Potter, I hardly mean for you to stand idly by if you could affect the situation in a manner that does not put you in harm's way. But you must consider your own safety first. You must not go into a situation with nothing but myself in mind. I assure you that if you did, I could only suffer for it."

"How would you suffer?"

Snape sighed and rubbed his temples. "If Draco were to make an attack on my person, I would appreciate having the leisure of worrying primarily about myself and not attempting to keep you out of harm's way. If I know you are safe, I can concentrate on defending myself from him."

Harry seemed to consider this for a few moments, and then nodded. Snape was relieved; he knew it would be impossible to keep Harry from helping him, but he hoped the fear of causing Snape harm would be enough to keep the young man out of danger.

"The headmaster also asked me to inform you that he has made arrangements for all your books and supplies to be taken to Gryffindor Tower in the morning. It seems he forgot to mention it when he spoke to you earlier."

Harry's gaze lowered for a moment, and then he nodded. Surely the young man wouldn't miss his company so much? Taking in the young man's demeanor, Snape wondered why exactly Harry was so distraught. Then again, the prospect of leaving what had been your safe haven for months to return to a place where your best friend was noticeably absent wasn't exactly a comforting one.

Snape said goodnight and allowed Harry to go back to sleep. The Potions Master wanted nothing more than to take the young man into his arms and heal the chapped, pale lips with his own, but he refrained and went into his own bedroom, frustrated and exhausted.


***************************
It was late in the morning of September first. Snape and Harry had forgone their usual defense lessons as neither of them wanted Harry exhausted when the Hogwarts Express rolled in, returning students both friendly and not.

Harry sat on the couch in surprisingly uncomfortable silence, right next to Snape as he had been all summer long.

But now that was over.

Harry wanted nothing more than to tell Snape that he refused to go. That he was going to make himself a little home here in Snape's sofa cushions and live there forever.

"Potter..."

Maybe not.

Snape sighed. "Really, Potter, you are acting as if someone has died."

Harry flinched.

Snape was silent but Harry could feel his eyes on him. "I apologize, that was uncalled for."

Harry just shook his head and tried to smile, still not looking at Snape. He tried to tell him that it was okay, that he said stupid things all the time, but the words didn't come.

Because it was like someone had just died.

The friendship that he treasured above all else was fading into nothingness even as they spoke, but Harry couldn't say a thing. He just sat there, even though he wanted nothing more than the beg Snape not to make him leave.

Snape sighed again.

"Do not act as if it is the end of the world, Potter. I am still under orders to obtain your friendship, and the Dark Lord's spies will be watching me to make certain I am doing his will. I imagine you will be spending time here quite often... If you are amendable, of course."

Harry looked up at Snape and was surprised by the cautious look on his face. The man looked as disoriented as he himself felt.

If Harry had to put a name on the expression, he would say that Snape was nervous. But that was ridiculous. What did Snape have to be nervous about?

"I bought those dragon hide gloves for a reason, Potter. You did not think I would make such an investment only to have you leave a month later?"

Harry gave a soft smile, and felt a small glimmer of hope that maybe he would still have a place here. "No, I suppose not," he croaked out.

Snape smiled back, and for a moment Harry felt like he was soaring.

"I think it's time you went back to Gryffindor Tower. The werewolf is waiting to say goodbye or some such nonsense."

Harry nodded, slowly rose from the sofa, and began the slow march to the door.

It felt like something was dying.

He picked up his trunk, cast a shrinking charm on it, and put it in his pocket. Then he opened the door, Snape right behind him.

Please ask me not to leave. I know I have to but please just say something, anything. Tell me you feel like something's dying too, tell me you feel as awful as I feel. Tell me you feel anything for me at all.

"Potter," Snape cleared his throat. "It will be several hours before the Welcoming Feast. If you would like, once you return from settling in, you can assist me in restocking the Order's supply of polyjuice potion. I believe you and the werewolf consumed the last of it on your latest adventure."

Harry turned around and looked at Snape's face. There was that same nervous quality, which looked so unnatural on the spy's face. It was almost as if Snape was unsure of Harry's response.

As if he could ever deny anything Snape had to offer.

And quite suddenly and without thought to the consequences of his actions, Harry threw his arms around the man in a firm embrace, closing his eyes as his arms wrapped around the taller, slimmer frame, his forehead landing on Snape's shoulder.

For a moment, it seemed as if Snape would just stand there and suffer Harry's close proximity. He knew better than to feel disappointed and Harry counted it as a victory that Snape hadn't cursed him yet.

But then slowly and with baited breath Harry smiled, and Snape's arms came up and wrapped around him.

And it was like coming home when those long limbs encircled him and the smell of potions fumes and wool and the bath soap that Snape used invaded Harry's nostrils and he inhaled and memorized the feel of him as if he'd never be in the presence of Severus Snape ever again.

Snape's arms grasped him tightly and pulled him even closer, and Harry swore that he'd never been held in that way; as if someone were holding onto him for dear life. And moments later he felt more than heard as Snape leaned his head down, buried his nose in Harry's hair, and inhaled.

Harry lifted his head slightly and smiled against Snape's neck, the slight upturn of his lips pressed against the Potions Master's flesh.

Snape immediately dropped his arms and pulled himself out of Harry's embrace. He took a step back and put a hand on the door. "I will see you after you are settled in, Potter." And with that he promptly closed the door in Harry's face.

Harry took a step back as the cold air of the dungeon surrounded him, the quick transition from Snape's warm embrace to being thrust into the cold halls making a shiver go down his spine. He'd never been on the outside of the Potions Master's doors like this, and he wanted so badly to return. He turned towards Gryffindor tower and began walking, trying to quash the growing feeling of loneliness that was threatening to overtake him.

Even though he knew he'd be back in an hour, Harry realized things would be different upon his return to Snape's lab. He'd be a visitor. He'd no longer be home.

Harry ached in ways he never had before as he wrapped his arms around himself, telling himself it was only the chill of the dungeons he was feeling and wondering why he felt so lost.