Disclaimer: I do not own any characters used in this story, all recognizable names, locations, and characters are property of the wonderful JK Rowling, who was lovely enough to bless us with the Harry Potter books to become obsessed with as I have.

Summary: AU fifth year. What if, in their Occlumency lessons, Professor Snape saw some memories that Harry didn't want anyone to see? Rated T for abuse, mild language, and mentions of non-consensual sexual contact. OOC Snape, since he's kind to Harry, and a bit OOC Harry, he's a lot more mature in this story than he is in the books. This fic is very sappy, and involves a lot of emotions and crying, so if you do not like those kind of fics, this won't be your kind of story.

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Unwanted Memories

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Chapter 1

"Legilimens!" Snape yelled, his wand pointed at Harry for the umpteenth time that evening.

Instantly, Harry was thrust into his memories. He was in Umbridge's office, slicing his hand open repeatedly with her special quill; he was cooking breakfast for the Dursleys; he was weeding their garden, in desperate need of a drink of water; he was watching out Dudley open Christmas present after Christmas present through the vent in his cupboard door; he was literally being thrown into his cupboard by his Uncle Vernon after he asked for a bit of food; he was being hit repeatedly by Uncle Vernon's belt, pleading the whole time with his uncle to stop, that he would stop being a freak; he was being thrown onto the hallway floor and kicked in the ribs before his Uncle Vernon leaned down and started unzipping his pants…

"NO!" Harry screamed, using every ounce of will power he had to push Snape out of his mind. Snape was thrown off his feet and into the wall, but he didn't even seem to notice. He was staring at Harry with unabashed confusion, with underlying rage.

Harry couldn't take it, he fled toward the door. Snape, however, had no intention of letting Harry leave after seeing that memory, so he lifted his arm (thankfully he hadn't dropped his wand during his flight across the room) and shot a locking spell at the door that couldn't be overrode by a simple Alohomora.

Harry, predictable as ever, wiped out his wand and screamed "ALOHOMORA!" at the door. He then frantically turned and yanked at the door handle before dropping his hand and turning around slowly, defeat in his eyes.

Snape watched all this from the floor, still barely registering that Harry had thrown him across the room by sheer willpower. Once Harry turned around, however, Snape realized he was still on the floor, staring at Harry. He picked himself up and brushed dust off of his robes, feeling the bump on the back of his head where he had hit the wall.

"Sorry for throwing you across the room, Professor. I didn't mean to. Are you alright?" Harry asked, with a note of, surprisingly, concern in his eyes.

"I'm alright, Harry. Just a bump. Care to explain to me about those memories? All of them?" Snape replied, inwardly cursing himself for the lack of malice in his voice, as well as his unconscious use of Harry's first name.

Harry, observant as always, though Snape didn't think so, noticed the lack of hatred and sarcasm in Snape's voice, as well as his use of Harry's given name.

"No, I'd prefer not to actually, Professor." Harry answered.

"You don't have an option." Snape replied. Usually, a statement like this would be accompanied by his iconic sneer, as well as a good bout of sarcasm, but both of those were still lacking from Snape's face and voice, and he still had a confused expression, instead of an angry one.

"I really don't want to talk about it, Professor. Those are my memories, they're none of your concern." Harry tried to put enough malice in the statement to make Snape resort to his usual rude self, but he failed completely; his voice shook, and this put a look of concern on Snape's face, instead of the hatred Harry was hoping for.

"They are my concern if one of my students is abused, whether it be by relatives," Snape spat the word "relatives" with even more hatred and spite than he usually directed at Harry, "Or a so-called professor, even if they are not in Slytherin. Tell me what you were doing in Umbridge's office in that first memory, Harry." Snape had given up sounding like his usual self, and stopped trying to remind himself to spit out the name "Potter" at the boy instead of calling him "Harry" with concern in his voice. He knew it wouldn't work.

"I was serving detention, sir." Harry replied, trying to stop Snape from questioning him more on the subject. He didn't know which was worse; Snape knowing about Umbridge or him knowing about the Dursleys.

"And what, exactly, did this detention entail?" Snape questioned. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he felt rage building inside of him, threating to break through his carefully constructed walls.

"Lines." Harry answered simply, hoping against hope that Snape hadn't seen what Umbridge's quill did to his hand.

"Lines…" Snape muttered. Harry could see Snape's wheels turning in his head. "May I see your hand, Harry?" Snape asked abruptly.

"Of course, Professor." Harry held out his right hand.

"The other one." Snape said with a pointed look at the boy. Now Harry was panicking, Snape knew. He wouldn't ask for Harry's hand if he didn't, and he had asked for his injured hand.

"Um…well, sir…you see..."

"Please, Harry?" Snape was nearly pleading with Harry, and that alone made Harry oblige and lift up his left hand for Snape to inspect. Snape grabbed his hand very gently, gentler than Harry would have ever thought possible from his rude and condescending Potions Professor, and pulled up Harry's sleeve.

There, clear as day, were the words I must not tell lies etched into Harry's skin. The skin around the cuts was pink and enflamed, and the words were blood red, brittle scabs. Snape sighed. Harry could see rage burning in his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was directed at him, for not telling someone about the detentions, or at Umbridge. Probably him, Harry thought.

"I cannot believe that toad used a blood quill on a student!" Snape yelled, his voice echoing around the office. Harry saw Snape visibly pull himself together before he dropped his hand and looked Harry straight in the eyes.

"And what about the other memories, Harry?" He asked.

Harry's stomach dropped. He really, really didn't want to talk about those. Snape knowing about the Dursleys was ten times worse than him knowing about the detentions.

"Sir, please, I don't want to talk…"

"Please, Harry. I only want to help you," Snape was actually pleading this time, his hands on Harry's shoulders. "I may not have been the nicest person over these last four and a half years to you, but I truly do care about you, a lot, and I don't like the idea of your family abusing you…"

"They don't abuse me. I deserve every punishment I get. I'm just a good-for-nothing freak that takes clothes off Dudley's back and food off their table." Harry snapped back.

Snape seemed completely shocked, however he soon found his voice, and his face settled into a look of cold fury. "That's what they tell you, is it…" he started to say.

"You should be happy, Professor, that someone is teaching me a lesson. You don't care what happens to me, you hate me!" If Snape was shocked before, he was speechless now. It took him a full two minutes to regain his composer.

"Take off your shirt, Harry." He commanded.

"Wha…"

"Now!" Snape yelled, though his voice lacked its usual malice.

Harry shot the older man a glare before stripping off his outer robe and tie. He then unbuttoned his dress shirt and took it off, leaving him in his black dress pants and white t-shirt. "Professor, is this really necessary…"

"Harry, just do it." Snape cut across him.

Harry sighed and pulled his t-shirt over his head, dropping it onto the floor. Snape then put his hands back on Harry's shoulders and slowly turned him around.

There, on Harry's back and shoulders, were crisscrossed welts and scars, with yellowish bruises that still have not faded in the four months he had been at Hogwarts surrounding them. Harry's entire back was covered in welts, scars, and bruises, with an ample number of bruises covering his ribs as well. Snape could see belt buckle marks that had been gouged into Harry's skin by his Uncle whipping him.

Harry caught Snape's sharp intake of breath and hung his head in shame. Snape had said that he cared about him, and now he was going to think him a wimp for not being able to defend himself against a stupid muggle.

After a moment of silence, with Harry forcing his tears back and Snape openly staring at his back, fighting to control his rage, Snape let go of Harry's shoulders and said the sentence that Harry would have given anything to be able to ignore.

"Put your shirt on, Harry, we're going to see the Headmaster."