Chapter 27

There were no more lessons with Snape for the rest of the week, and for that, Harry was thankful. It seemed like every time he pulled himself together, every time he managed to scrape together a semblance of normality, something like the last night would happen and destroy everything he worked so hard to achieve. And worse… using Sirius as an excuse, a shield, as he had with Snape. It made him feel sick.

The week came to an end, homework was completed and assignments were handed in. Harry managed to smile and not mind that Ron and Hermione were hovering around him. Or at least not fight with them over it. He even managed to enthusiastically suggest quidditch practice on the weekend, which cheered Ron up considerably. In fact everything was going reasonably well, considering the total disaster his life had become, until Hermione reminded them at lunch that they had agreed to visit Remus for tea that Friday afternoon.

His stomach dropped, but he managed to fix a smile as they agreed to all drop their bags in the dorm after lessons and walk to the DADA professor's rooms together. He had completely forgotten. He excused himself from the Hall on the pretence of needing the bathroom, quickly making his way to the third floor. He knew that bathroom would be deserted during lunch.

He splashed his face with water, watching the stark, pale reflection in the mirror staring back at him. It couldn't happen again. He was managing. He had managed three days without slipping up. Even in the Potions classes. He knew he had to keep it together, to not let this be the thing that made everything fall apart again. But somehow, being around Remus just made everything worse. It made him remember his Godfather, that all this was his fault, that they had both lost Sirius because of him. The guilt, the shame and grief, were crushing. And to make it worse, the man was worried about him. Harry couldn't stand it. He didn't deserve it. The man should be furious with him, loathe him, or at the very least blame him. It was how Harry felt about himself. And to make matters worse, the man was always watching. It was relentless. Harry was sure Ron and Hermione had told the man about some of the less fortunate things that had been happening. He understood that they were trying to help. That they were also worried. But it wasn't helping at all.

He splashed his face again, trying to get a handle on himself. It would be ok. It would be all three of them there. He was going to smile, and drink tea, and chat about meaningless things like the upcoming season. He wasn't going to flinch if the man touched him. He wasn't going to freak out about anything.

Just for a moment Harry had the intense urge to go up to the dorm and get his pain relief potion. Which was ridiculous, because he hadn't needed it since Snape had given him those potions to heal him. But he resisted the thought. All he needed was the Potions Master to find out, which he would because somehow he always did, and then to decide that he was also addicted to pain meds, on top of the supposed self-harm.

He dried his face gingerly. Potions was the last lesson on a Friday. Right after lunch, and before he had to see Remus. Great. Steeling himself, he walked back down to the noisy lunch hall.

...

Snape looked up, as the Sixth years trooped into his classroom. It was Potter. It always was. He could feel the boy's intense anxiety over all the emotions of all the teenagers in the class. The boy didn't look at him as he walked in, keeping his head down and moving immediately to his desk at the back. Whatever had the boy so wound up, it didn't appear to be him for a change.

As the class settled into their seats (quietly as always), he flicked his wand and the day's lecture appeared on the board. It would be the first potentially dangerous potion the class had brewed since the incident with Draco. Severus had been avoiding brewing, worried that something of the like might happen again. However, he couldn't put off practicals forever. He had however, decided to forgo Golpallot's third law momentarily, until he had secured all the poisons in his cupboard.

"Today you will be brewing an elixir to induce euphoria. The assessment of your potion will count heavily toward your term mark. Begin.". There was a frantic rustle as all the students dived into their potion books. That would at least keep everyone focused.

/\/\/\/\/\

Harry walked out of Potions tired and agitated. Snape had, of course, picked a ridiculously complicated potion which involved dreadfully precise measurement and brewing. Harry had found it exceedingly difficult to concentrate on the practical between dreading the end of the lesson and feeling the constant need to check that no one was trying to sabotage his potion. He couldn't help but keep glancing up at the Slytherin side of the room. Eventually Malfoy noticed, and smirked knowingly back.

His potion wasn't a complete disaster. But his murky blue concoction had not resembled the sparkling, pleasantly scented azure elixir in Hermione's neighbouring cauldron. He didn't feel so bad when he saw that no one else's did either.

They walked up the stairs, complaining about the difficulty of the potion. Hermione fretted about the consistency of her mixture, and how heavily weighted the mark would be. Harry let her, happy to have to contribute little to keep the conversation moving, and feeling a sudden fondness for her academic obsession. It reminded him of their first year together, when Hogwarts and magic were still new and exciting. Before the mess things had become. He was pulled out of his thoughts as Ron joined them as they arrived at the dorm.

The trio changed out of their school robes, then walked and chatted together companionably down to Remus's rooms. Well, Harry hoped it was companionably. He hoped he was concealing the anxiety trying to claw its way out of his chest.

Ron knocked, still talking excitedly about the team practice Alicia had arranged for Monday afternoon. Remus opened the door with a smile, ushering them into the small sitting room. Tea and a plate of scones and jams were laid out on a low table, surrounded by comfortable chairs. A fire crackled cheerfully in the grate. Harry reflected that in the last weeks he had been inside far more of his various professors' rooms than he cared to have been. He forced himself to relax his hands before they could ball into fists and forced a smile onto his face. He could do this.

They spoke of inconsequential things, like assignments and classes. Harry steered the conversation back to quidditch before it had a chance to lull, knowing that Ron would have plenty to say. It was a safe topic, and one he could at least try have a bit of genuine excitement for. And all the while they talked, Harry could feel the DADA professor watching him, even though the man didn't always look directly at him. He tried to relax his shoulders, to seem a bit more natural, more sincerely interested in what was being said. It was exceedingly difficult.

Ron asked after Tonks and Kingsley, and the other members of the Order who they had come to know. Harry could hear the edge of worry in his friend's voice. He realised, suddenly, that as involved as he had been with his own troubles, he hadn't realised what a strain it must have been for the red head to have most of his family a part of the underground resistance. It seemed poor repayment to his friend that he had not noticed sooner. He resolved to be more supportive.

"Harry?" Remus said.

"Sorry, I drifted off for a moment." Harry snapped back to the moment, forced a smile again, and stretching his arms. "We had a terrible potions lesson this afternoon. Didn't we, Hermione?" He didn't miss how Remus's eyes narrowed as he said it. They must have told him about the incident with Malfoy. He felt a flash of annoyance. It didn't make things any easier.

"Oh it wasn't so bad." Hermione chimed in, then quickly added "but it was quite a tricky elixir." Harry felt sure this last bit was because of his mucked up attempt. He felt another wave of fondness that she care to spare his feelings over such a trivial matter.

"What did you brew?" Remus asked, still watching him.

"A Euphoria Elixir" Harry replied, trying not to sound as suffocated as he felt. "Well Hermione did, anyway. I'm not sure mine really counted. Snape wasn't terribly impressed with the rest of us."

"Speaking of Professor Snape, how's the Occlumency coming, Harry?" Remus asked lightly. Harry caught himself before he flinched. They were moving into dangerous waters. He wasn't sure why the man was asking.

"Alright I guess." He tried to sound casual. "It's hard, but I'm getting better. I think." He tried to smile sheepishly, and hoped it didn't seem a grimace.

"Hermione mentioned you had started combat training as well?"

Harry glanced at Hermione, who had the grace to look away, and pour herself more tea while pretending not to notice. He tried to ignore the irritation.

"I suppose you could call it that." He tried to keep the casual tone, like it wasn't that interesting and it didn't matter anyway. The man didn't know anything, couldn't. "It's mostly just doing different stances and punching a bag though. Snape thinks it'll help my concentration with the Occlumency." He reached forward, taking another scone although he didn't really want one. "You teaching any interesting creatures this week?" He asked nonchalantly, taking a big bite of the pastry.

For a moment, Remus's eyes narrowed again. Then he smiled and told them of the Boggart practical he was planning for the third years. They laughed, remembering their own practical so long ago, of Neville's spell turning the poor unsuspecting creature into Snape dressed as the boy's grandmother, including the stuffed vulture hat. Harry's more recent encounter with the Boggart in Snape's classroom made it hard to make the laughter sound natural. He tried to push the thought away. He was doing ok.

"That year was the beginning of many things" Remus said, reaching forward to pour himself another cup of tea. Harry forced himself not to stiffen, to pick up his own cup and drink. He liked this turn of the conversation even less. He didn't miss the way Hermione's eyes flicked to him and back.

"It's the year Hermione got that dreadful cat of hers." Ron said lightly, easily dodging the smack Hermione aimed at him, even as she smiled. Harry caught his eye briefly, thankful that he had intervened.

He glanced at his watch, then reached forward to set his cup on the table and brush the crumbs off his lap. "I guess we better head down for dinner."

He caught the glimpse of disappointment in Remus' eyes even as the man smiled and said he would walk them down.

...

The weekend passed quickly, and without incident. Harry practiced quidditch with Ron, and convinced his friends that they needed to spend the afternoons in the library, citing the essays that were piling up. It was true- since he had to spend so many evenings practicing occlumency, he was finding the workload more burdensome. What did it matter if it meant less time to talk? Hermione, of course, did not take much convincing which meant Ron succumbed. It made it easier not to think about the dreams that were plaguing him after their visit to Remus. Of Sirius's dark, haunted eyes that echoed around his mind. He tried to clear his thoughts, tried to ignore the desperate depth of his sorrow and longing, and the guilt that it brought on.

Monday arrived, blustery and cold. Students pulled out their scarves and gloves, and bundled up in jerseys against the draughty corridors. The wind made the suits of armour creak and groan a bit more vigorously than usual. Inside the classrooms and common rooms, fires blazed cheerful.

Ron and Harry trooped down after lessons, to the quidditch pitch with the rest of the team, hunched up against the early cold. Alicia was already waiting for them, the crate containing the balls already in the middle of the pitch. She launched into a lecture on the upcoming season, tactics and training schedules. Ravenclaw was to be their first match of the season, two weeks hence. The team perked up considerably. They got on their brooms, starting off by passing the quaffle before the bludgers were released.

Harry smiled and laughed with the rest of the team as they ducked the murderous balls and started to drill up and down the pitch. For the first time in weeks, the banter came easily, and his smile felt genuine. There were no traps up there on his broomstick, no unachievable expectations. He knew what to do, and it didn't endanger anyone if he did or didn't manage it. The thrill of flying coursed through his veins. Alicia started a series of fancy spins and stops, demonstrating a new technique. They practiced up and down the pitch, all the while tossing the quaffle back and forth. Soon they started aiming for the hoops, to give Ron a change to block. Their weekend practice had obviously paid off- the redhead managed to stop almost every ball. Eventually they landed, and packed up the equipment. It took a while longer to wrestle the bludgers back into the crate. Alicia chased them back up to the castle to get warm before dinner, threatening to hex every last one of them if they got sick and missed practices or the match. Harry trudged happily back to the castle, joking with Ron and the others. He knew it couldn't last. But, for the moment he ignored the guilt, and tried to savour every moment.

...

"Due to the totally inept brewing displayed on Friday, you will each spend the lesson writing an essay as to why your potion ended in the abysmal state it did." Snape said coldly, surveying the 6th years imperiously. "You have one hour. Begin."

The rustle of parchment and quills, and textbooks being frantically paged though, filled the classroom. Harry flipped through the book listlessly. Monday evening had been… difficult. The night had been filled with unending visions. Voldemort was clearly recruiting. Harry watched again and again as the new recruits were tortured and had to torture others to prove their mettle to the jeering of the circled white masked dark figures. He watched helplessly as a muggle couple was flung hopeless around the circle for sport, tortured and finally, mercifully, killed. He had tried desperately hard to clear his mind, to stop them. It had made little difference. He knew Ron had heard him, had gotten up to wake him again and again. After the third time, Harry had resorted to casting a silencing charm over his bed. He had tried it before, but somehow the spell always broke when the dreams or visions started.

Harry tried to read the words on the page in front of him, and not think about the woman's bright green eyes as she pleaded and pleaded, and screamed and screamed. All around, only the scribbling of quills could be heard. He hadn't managed more than to write his name and a heading. He couldn't remember what he had done on Friday. He had been careless, stressed about seeing Remus, worried that someone would sabotage his potion. They weren't exactly things he could write on the page. He looked up the potion, trying to see what would cause the murkiness he recalled.

By the end of the hour, when Snape called for the assignments to be handed in, he knew he had failed. As he left the weak attempt on the Potions Master's desk, the man didn't look up from the paper he was marking, and said so only Harry could hear "Tonight Potter, 8 o'clock."

Harry's heart sank. He went back to his desk, picked up his bag and trudged out the classroom.

…

"Come in." Severus spoke as the knock came on the door.

Potter walked in, head down and sat down in front of his desk. The boy was pale and drawn. Severus though he had a fairly good idea why. He waited as the boy reluctantly pulled the amulet over his head, slipping it into his robe pocket.

"Show me your arms, Potter." He said calmly. The boy hesitated for a moment, then pulled back his sleeves and held his wrists out. "Have you hurt yourself since the last time we spoke?"

The boy looked at his lap. "No sir."

"Look at me, Potter."

The boy dragged his eyes from his lap, and looked at him for a moment. He muttered the words again, before wrenching his eyes away. But it was enough for Severus to see the truth there.

"We will work on Occlumency tonight."

The boy looked up, dread running across his face. He looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it. Severus waited a few moments.

"What is it?" He tried to keep the usual bite from his tone.

/\/\/\/\/\

Harry bit his tongue. He didn't want the man's help. He didn't want the man to think he was asking for it. He didn't want to say what had happened. He knew it would only anger the man. But he was so tired. And he couldn't get the bright green eyes out his head or the echoing screams. It would be a disaster. Snape would be angry with him for not being able to hold up his shield. And angrier still when he found out why.

"What is it?" He tried not to flinch at the man's harsh tone.

"I-I" He wanted to leave. He didn't want to be here. He was managing. He didn't want to tear down what he had worked so hard to build up the last week.

The man merely waited, a thin eyebrow arched darkly.

"Could we work on combat t-tonight, sir?" He tried to force the words out without stuttering. The thought of doing combat was no more appealing than the occlumency. But at least he wouldn't have to fear the man prying into his memories.

"You had a vision last night." The man said coldly. It was a statement, not a question. Harry tried to steel himself and not flinch. He nodded slightly.

"You had a vision last night" Severus said calmly. He wasn't surprised at the fact. He was fairly sure he could guess what the boy might have seen. He had been there after all. No, he was more surprised that Potter was admitting to it. Not exactly openly, nor could it be said willingly, but at least there was some engagement on the subject.

Potter fidgeted uncomfortably. Severus could see how hard he was trying to look as if he didn't care, although the effort was completely wasted on him. He could feel how strained the boy was. He wasn't surprised by that either: the night had been brutal.

"How much did you see?"

The boy tensed. Severus waited. Discussing the visions had already proved to be an issue.

The silence lengthened, until eventually the boy spoke quietly. "All of it."

"You had more than one vision?"

The boy nodded unwillingly, refusing to look up.

/\/\/\/\/\\

Harry sat, trying again to look calm despite his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't want to have this discussion again. He should have just sucked it up, and done the occlumency. He could feel Snape's eyes boring into him.

"What do you do once you've had a vision, Potter?"

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. It was just a conversation. He didn't need to freak out. He would be strong. It didn't matter if Snape was angry. Despite him telling himself that, he was immensely glad the desk was still between them.

"I-I try to clear my my m-mind sir."

"How?"

He took another shaky breath, becoming angry with himself. There was no reason for him to feel this anxious. They were just talking.

"I try empty my m-mind sir."

"Show me."

Harry looked up hesitantly, unsure what the man meant.

/\/\/\/\/\

Potter finally looked up, uncertainly. "I don't u-u-understand s-sir"

"Show me how you clear your mind." He said calmly.

"I-I..."

"Take a deep breath and clear your mind, Potter."

The boy looked around and down anxiously, obviously still unsure, before looking down at his lap and taking a few breaths. Severus felt the edges of the boy's emotions start to go fuzzy, fading away slightly from his perception. Then the boy looked up, and the calm broke, his anxiety coming back in full force.

/\/\/\/\

Harry tried. He really did, doing as Snape asked and taking deep breaths to try and still himself. But he didn't feel calm, and knowing that he wasn't doing what Snape had told him to, was not making it any easier. He breathed, concentrating on his lap, trying to focus and not worry about the man sitting across from him. He managed a bit, but his eyes involuntary flicked up and saw the man watching him intently and it shattered what little composure he managed to gain. How would Snape even know without using legillimency?

"Can you maintain it until you fall asleep?"

"I t-think so."

"Do you dream before the visions start?"

Harry gripped his robe to stop his hands from fidgeting. They were back on to the subject of their last lesson and it was not something he wanted to talk about with Snape, or anyone else. He took a breath and tried to push his anxiety away.

/\/\/\/\

"Sometimes" The boy mumbled. His hands gripped his robes tightly.

Severus didn't pursue the topic: it would only end with Potter becoming overly distressed. And he did not want Potter to associate discussing his issues with such negative emotions. Especially considering it was the first time Potter had willingly told him of a problem. Although willing was perhaps too strong a word to use.

"Do you want to discuss what you saw last night?"

"No." the boy, looking down at his lap once more.

"We will continue with combat tonight then."

The boy grimaced but didn't complain, standing and walking to the back of the classroom where they usually practiced. He pulled his robe over his head, draping it over a chair. Severus moved to join him, pushing the desks aside with his wand.

"We will work on sparring today, Potter."

Severus set Potter to punching his hands again. Much like the previous lessons, the boy was reluctant to punch hard, or stay near him. He started to move his hands fast, and take bigger steps back and forward, forcing the boy to move quicker and step closer.

"Stop"

The boy moved back, relief evident on his face.

"Potter, you asked to practice combat. I expect you to more effort in." He said sharply. "We will continue the exercise, but I am going to demonstrate how to block a blow."

/\/\/\/\

Harry stood uncertainly, not sure what he was supposed to do.

"Try to punch me Potter."

Harry's stomach clenched painfully. He looked uncertainly at his teacher, not wanting to hit him. And unsure where to aim without the hand for guidance.

"Potter." Snape said impatiently.

Harry stepped forward and swung hesitantly. Snape's arm snapped up, deflecting the blow.

"Again"

Harry swung again, and again the Potion Master deflected it, sending his blow harmlessly to the side. The man began to explain the mechanics of the move, telling him to swing again and again. Harry disliked it, he disliked the proximity to the man and the thought of hitting him, but despite it he tried to listen and imitate the movements.

"Now Potter, I want you to try and hit me."

Harry's stomach clench again, the sweat on his brow turning cold. He didn't want to, but Snape had already warned him about not trying. He stepped forward, and began the spar. Snape moved effortlessly, not moving back but blocking each blow.

/\/\/\/\/\

Severus stood firmly, watching as the boy moved in, throw a punch, then promptly backed away. It was totally ineffective. He started to move forward on each block, forcing Potter back.

"Potter you shouldn't be losing ground." He spoke as they sparred, "Stand your ground."

The boy managed to stand still for one punch, but as soon as Severus stepped forward, the boy immediately tried to back away again.

"Stand your ground." He said again.

Potter tried, managing one or two blows before backing up when Severus moved into his space.

"Step forward Potter, not back. Your objective is to advance."

Severus could feel the anxiety it was causing Potter. The boy tried to step forward but surrendered the ground the moment Severus didn't step back.

"Step forward, Potter." He said commandingly, trying to push him into doing it. It worked, the boy stepped forward into his punch. "Do not move back." He said sharply as the boy started stepping back. The boy froze, hesitant, his swing weak. Severus could see how difficult it was for him to maintain his stance.

"Better." He said calmly, blocking the swing with ease. "Keep going."

/\/\/\/\

Harry stood, trying to quash the impulse to step back, to put space between them. He swung again, trying to push away how uneasy he felt.

They kept at it for some time. Snape snapped at him every time he shifted back, forcing him to maintain close contact with him, and speaking instructions as they sparred. Eventually the man called for a stop. Harry moved away immediately, glad to put distance back between them.

"That was better, Potter." The man said coolly

"Thank you s-sir." Harry said, hoping that the lesson would be over. He glanced at the door.

"You may go."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Severus let the boy go, aware the strain the combat practice was putting on him. The boy left the classroom as quickly as he could short of running.

He frowned. He had hoped the combat would help improve Potter's occlumency skills- and while he had seen the boy could clear his mind, it didn't appear to be helping with the visions. At least Potter could at least tolerate the contact in the combat lessons, and it gave an alternative option when the boy didn't feel he could cope with occlumency.

Severus walked through his office and into this own rooms. He got himself a drink from the kitchen, and sunk into his armchair. The fire was already blazing in the grate. His mind wandered to the previous night. It had been a hellish experience, the worst he had had in some time. The Dark Lord's new recruits had been eager for the initiation, until it had begun. Not all of them made it to the next morning. He shuttered at the memory of the muggle couple, at their brutal and gruesome treatment. He despised torture, even more so because he had been so often been the victim of it. And knowing that, the Dark Lord took especial pleasure in making him participate. Despite the risk, it was he who silently shot the curse that killed the woman, causing the massive internal bleeding that mercifully ended her suffering. Her partner had not been so lucky, but he knew if the others found out it would have been him in the circle. He sipped his whiskey, trying to forget the screaming and the big, bright green eyes.

/\/\/\/\/\

Harry slipped into the common room as inconspicuously as he could. Only a few people remained, mostly relaxing in front of the fire. He continued upstairs to the dorm and grabbed his things to shower. He didn't feel like talking, or trying to be around anyone.

Under the hot spray, he leant his head against the wall, letting the water relax the muscles in his back. He would be sore tomorrow- the physical training had been long. As much as he loathed trying to hit the man, hated how nervous and edgy it made him, it was better than having the Potions Master in his head, although he knew he wouldn't be able to escape the occlumency forever. He turned the hot water up, imagining it could wash away the mess his life had become. He stayed there for a long time.