Stay Free

Chapter 17: Dreams and Discussions

"Tell me what she was like," said Potter from the couch. Severus settled into his armchair. He wasn't exactly sure why he had agreed to this, but it was too late now. "Her personality. I want to know what genes I have."

"Well..." Severus thought back. "She was incredibly kind. A sweet girl. Everyone loved her, especially the younger students. She was a true role model to them. Er...She was quite good at consoling other people. When the Dark Lord began his rise in power, he killed many families. Albus often sent orphaned children to Lily, so they could have someone to talk to."

"I didn't get that," said Potter, sounding amused. "The comforting thing. It's a good thing we've got Hermione, or Ron and I would be thoroughly depressed."

"Indeed."

The emerald eyes snapped open. "Did she ever help you? When your parents died?"

"Yes." He remembered being summoned to Dumbledore's office in his third year. "I'm sorry to tell you this, Severus," the old wizard had said solemnly. "Your mother is dead." After he had sat for five minutes, stunned, while Dumbledore explained everything, he had headed straight for Lily. And she had helped him. "She was very good."

"How did your mother die?" Potter's voice was hesitant, as though he were afraid of the answer. Severus inhaled sharply.

"My father's friends grabbed her when she was walking home. They dragged her to an abandoned church, stripped her, and stabbed her to death with pieces of broken pottery."

Potter sat up abruptly. "What?"

"She was murdered, Potter."

"I know what being stabbed to death is," Potter snapped. He looked vaguely ill. "But--you said that your father had taken care of it--"

"He did. He ordered it, but the Ministry didn't have enough evidence to prove it. Veritaserum wasn't invented for another few years, and by the time it was...Well, they just couldn't prove he did it."

Potter lay back down. "What a strong legal system you wizards have."

"Oh, we all got justice," said Severus, staring into the fire. "My father was walking home from the local pub, after a night of drinking heavily. He stopped outside Snape Manor, threw up, and fell unconscious in his own vomit."

Potter was silent, until, "He died in a pool of his own vomit?"

"Yes."

Potter was turning over onto his side. "I think that's enough to help me get to sleep."

"All right. Sleep well, Potter."

There was no answer from the couch but slow, steady breathing. Inhale for five seconds, hold for five seconds, and exhale slowly. A typical yoga breathing, one Potter seemed familiar with. Severus supposed that it was what he used to clear him mind before bed.

Severus sat and waited to be sure the boy was completely asleep. When he was satisfied, he left for his own bedroom and the sleep that he so desperately wanted.

He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow. Not caring what he was dreaming about, he didn't notice when it changed to an endless room of infinite white mist.

Dream-Severus blinked. Normally, his dreams consisted of horrible memories of the past or various ways of discovering how to teach a Potions class with Longbottom in it without having a cauldron blow up. There was never anything about white mist...

His instincts twitched as the mist shifted. He narrowed his eyes, trying to see through the mist. A dark colour came into his vision, vaguely resembling a blob. Severus snorted. His subconscious wasn't very detailed.

"Severus."

His entire body jerked. Oh, sweet Merlin. He hadn't heard that voice in so long...The memories he had placed in Dumbledore's Pensieve didn't count...Why was he dreaming of this? Though he had always longed to see her again, Lily never appeared in his dreams...

"Severus?" she repeated, walking closer. Her bare feet kicked up the dust. He didn't reply. "Can you hear me? Oh, please, don't wake up, I've spent years trying to contact you--"

"I'm not awake," said Severus quietly. He turned to Lily, who was biting her bottom lip anxiously. "What do you mean, you've spent years?"

"Only one person can enter another's dreams at a time, you know," explained Lily, gesturing to the mist. "And you can only contact the ones you love. It took me awhile to convince James that I loved him as much as I love you."

Severus's throat clenched, as well as his chest. "I'm having a hard time believing this is real," he said slowly. "There are few documented accounts of the dead contacting the living."

"Only because most of them can't remember," said Lily. Her eyes, which had been sparkling and alive the last time Severus had seen her, were hollow and empty. She was wearing a plain, black shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants. The clothing she had worn when she died, he realised with a painful swelling in his throat.

"Potter remembered Black," said Severus, feeling as though he had to wash his mouth out for saying the latter's name. "Though his mental state is something to be looked into."

Lily smiled gently. "It's funny that you should be insulting my son when you just told him a story and put him to sleep."

Severus scowled. It was the truth, and he hated it. Lily laughed, making his heart twist more painfully.

"He and Mark together seem to bring out the father in me," he said gruffly. Lily's expression changed at the mention of their son.

"Mark," she sighed. "I've watched him as avidly as I've watched Harry and you. He looks exactly like you."

"You've been watching me?" Severus blurted out, ignoring her last comment.

Lily nodded. "Being dead is rather boring, you know, so most of us just watch the living. I watch Harry, you, and Mark, usually. James watched Remus, Sirius, and Wormtail." Her lips curled back in a sneer at the mention of the person who betrayed her.

"Care to tell me anything about the last one?" Severus asked hopefully. Seeing as how the Dark Lord wasn't feeling very friendly with him at the moment and Draco wasn't ready for flirting with that dangerous line between loyal servant and spy/traitor, any information would be nice.

But Lily shook her head.

"You know I can't, Severus. Unless you never paid attention in Divination, you would know that the dead can't tell you anything that would affect the future."

"Damn. Any information for the Order would be good."

Lily had stepped closer to him, Severus noticed. She placed a hand on his shoulder, which he automatically covered with his. He let himself smile slightly when she didn't pull away.

"I didn't work this hard to talk about the war, Severus," said Lily, squeezing his shoulder gently. "I wanted to talk to you, and I think I'll only be able to do this once. It takes a powerful witch or wizard to do this sort of thing, and this took a lot out of me. I may be dead, but I'm exhausted."

"You wanted to...talk to me?" he asked, his mouth dry. God, he was an awkward teenager all over again. Next thing you know, I'll be stuttering, he thought aimlessly.

Lily nodded. "I missed you." She placed her other hand on his opposite shoulder. As he had done before, he covered it with his free hand. "I have been watching you, Severus."

"Even in the shower?" Severus teased her. Her cheeks flushed, but she grasped a lock of his hair and held it up.

"You mean you wash this greasy hair?" said Lily, rubbing the strand between her fingers. She put it back in place, her fingers brushing the shell of his ear. The other hand traced small circles on his chest. It sent triggers of pleasure down his spine--

Severus pushed her hands off his shoulders, stepping away. Lily stared at him incredulously, looking slightly hurt.

"What is it?"

Severus shook his head. "No. Even if this is a dream, it's still slightly real. You're dead, Lily. It would be like--like performing necrophilia--"

"In your mind, I'm alive," Lily interrupted, reaching out a hand. He took it in his, holding on tightly. She bit her lip again. "Though I wouldn't mind dream-shagging you, James isn't very far away, so you have nothing to worry about."

"Oh, God," said Severus, closing his eyes as though in pain. He let go of her hand quickly. "He's here? He can hear us?"

"Well...erm...yes. Anyone can listen in, if they fancy eavesdropping."

Severus groaned. There was a faint laughing, as though in the distance. The mist shifted again, and James Potter stepped into his view.

"Aw, Snape, I'm insulted," said James, grinning broadly as he walked to stand beside his wife. He looked the same the last time Severus had seen him, at an Order meeting the week before they had died. The messy hair and glasses stood out as ever, and the hazel eyes that were once cheerful were devoid of joy. "You don't look happy to see me."

"As if I ever was," Severus shot back.

"Both of you stop!" Lily exclaimed before James could retort. "You're acting like you're little first-years again! Just stop before it goes any further!"

Severus looked away, as did James. Lily sighed.

"I don't know why you decided to intervene, James Potter. You know I've been trying to get a conversation with him!"

"Well, so have I," said James haughtily. Severus raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Snivellus, I have been trying to get a word with you. But since I don't"--His face twisted--"love you, it wasn't working."

Severus crossed his arms and glared. "Well? What was it that you wanted to talk about, then? Lily had something to say, as well."

"Look, I know you probably still hate me, and I know that I still despise you from the grave, but let me just talk, all right?" He then proceeded to fix Severus with a dark stare.

"Fine," Severus muttered, waving his hand aimlessly.

"Thank you." James began to pace back and forth in the mist. "It's about Harry." He paused, as though waiting for permission to continue. Severus waved his hand at him again, and he did.

"I want you to take care of him, Snape, while Remus is away. I've been watching Harry ever since I died, and I know you've been spending time with him." A muscle moved in James's jaw, and Severus was pleased to see he had caused discomfort in his old rival. "Teaching him Occlumency--though both times didn't work out well--duelling, telling him about Lily, all that stuff. I mean, I hate to admit it, but with Remus off on a mission for the Order, you're the only father figure he's got left for now."

"Father figure?" Severus sputtered. "Father figure?"

"Saying it twice doesn't help with denial, Snape. Yes, you are a father figure to him. I mean, for Merlin's sake, you just put him to bed!"

"Your wife already informed me of that, thank you," said Severus through clenched teeth. James inhaled sharply.

"Snape. I'm dead. We can't compete with each other anymore. You already won. You're still alive. Just hear me out, all right?"

Severus glanced at Lily, who nodded. "Very well."

"Thank you. I meant what I said before. I hate it, I don't like it, but you seem to have grown on Harry. And you've protected him before, from that broomstick jinx in his first year to everything that's happened this summer. I don't like the fact that you've prevented him from getting hurt more than I have, but..." James sighed heavily, running fingers through his hair. It stuck up in the back when he was finished. "I'll get used to it. Just take care of him for me, all right?"

Severus looked away. "I'll watch him," he said brusquely. "I'll make sure he doesn't get hurt while Lupin is away."

James smiled widely. "Thanks, Snape." He held out his hand. Severus hesitated, but he took the other wizard's hand and shook it briefly.

"Mind if I join?" called a distinctly familiar voice, hidden in the mist.

"Oh, no," said Severus in disbelief. He backed away, but in the endless mist, he wasn't going anywhere. He pinched his forearm sharply, slapped his cheek. "Wake up, dammit! Wake up!"

Sirius Black joined the Potters, the ridiculous grin on his waxy skin. He placed his hands on his hips, staring at Severus.

"Well, to be honest, Snape, I'm glad you don't sleep starkers."

Severus automatically crossed his arms over his chest, even though he was wearing the robes he had worn that day. Black chuckled.

"I'm surprised you have managed to make a joke, Black, considering you're dead," Severus snapped. The laughter died from Black's face, but he managed to keep a half-hearted smile.

"Yes, Snape, I'm dead. But I am with James and Lily again. That's enough for some laughs, don't you think?"

Severus exhaled slowly. "Black. Why are you here? Is this some twisted school reunion? I thought Lily just needed to talk to me, not all three of you."

"What? Can't a dead person call up his living friends?"

"Black," said Severus slowly and carefully, "no, you can't. This only works if you--if you love the person. And since the only dead person I know who loved me is Lily, you two must have just decided to join after she made the connection. I want to know why you two have decided to plague my dreams."

Black scratched the back of his neck. "To be honest, Snape, the same thing James said. We wanted to make sure you'll take care of Harry, because Remus is on business."

Something clicked in Severus's mind. "Did something happen to Lupin? Is he all right?"

"We can't say," said Lily gently.

"Some help you are," Severus muttered. "Black. Potter. I will watch and take care of Harry while Lupin is away. I'll make sure he doesn't hurt himself or endanger himself this term. Merlin, I'll even try to be kind to him in Potions class. Are you happy now?"

Both James and Black nodded. The latter glanced over his shoulder.

"Right, you three, I'm off. I was having a nice chat with my uncle earlier, so I'd like to continue it. Sleep well, Snape," he finished with a mock salute. He slipped away into the mist, disappearing completely.

James now approached Severus, rubbing the side of his neck nervously. "I know you'll want to talk to Lily privately, so I'll head off next. And I won't listen in," he added as Severus opened his move to add his thoughts. The Gryffindor rubbed his neck again. "And...er...I want you to know that I...I know about Mark."

"How did you find out?" Severus demanded, looking at Lily. She stood a short distance away, out of hearing range. "Did she tell you?"

James shook his head. "Found out when you told Harry, actually."

"Oh." Severus glanced away, avoiding James's eyes. "Well. This is awkward."

"You have no idea," said James nonchalantly. "Well. Take care of Harry for me, Snape. Thanks."

And with a pat on the shoulder, he, too, disappeared into the mist. When he was gone, Severus looked back at Lily. She was smiling shyly.

"Finally," he said with a great sigh. "So. Do you have anything else to tell me before you go?"

She opened her arms. "A hug, for old time's sake?"

He had his arms wrapped around her before she even got the third word out. Lily giggled in his ear, sparking past memories. He closed his eyes and held her tighter.

"I have missed you more than I thought possible," said Severus quietly, holding her head against his neck. "Not a day goes by that I don't think about you."

"I don't know whether to be flattered or slightly terrified," Lily replied, causing him to snort.

"Consider yourself flattered." He held onto tendrils of her hair in his fist, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Merlin, I can't wait to die."

"Don't say that!" Lily chastised, smacking him lightly on the back. "You have to stay alive. For the Order. For Harry. For Mark."

"You're making it sound like I'm a father."

"You are. Speaking of Mark, are you going to tell him?"

Severus shook his head. "I don't want to. Not until he's old enough to understand."

"Understand what? He's seen you with Harry at Privet Drive, so he must know that you're trustworthy. And you saved him from Malfoy Manor! What can he not understand?"

Severus yanked the sleeve of his left forearm up and held it up between them. Lily gazed at the mark on his arm. Definite fear flashed in her eyes.

"You know what I am. He knows what I am. The difference is that you understand why, and he doesn't."

Lily pushed the arm down to her lower back. "Well, you certainly know how to ruin a mood."

He closed his eyes again, leaning into their embrace. "Lily, may I ask you something?"

"Surely."

"Why have you not contacted Harry? Your love is what saved him, after all. I'm sure it would work."

Lily remained quiet for a moment or two. Severus waited impatiently, and was about to ask again when she spoke.

"You've seen the Mirror of Erised, right?"

"Yes. I helped Dumbledore bring it into the castle."

"Have you ever looked into it?"

"No. After Dumbledore's countless warnings, I decided against it. The mirror shows your deepest desires, correct?"

Lily nodded. "Do you know what Harry saw?"

"No."

"He saw me, James, and the rest of his family. The people he's never known. That was his deepest desire. To have a family that loved and cared about him."

"Oh." Severus felt a stab of sympathy for the boy. "I had no idea."

"James wanted to contact Harry, but I persuaded him not to. I thought that it would kill him, to see us in his dreams."

"I'm sure he's had dreams about you two before, though," Severus pointed out.

"But not where it's real. I was afraid that he would become hooked on the thought of trying to get us to contact him. It does work better if you think constantly of the person who's trying to get in touch with you from the grave." She gave him a naughty wink at this last statement, and then continued. "He became addicted to the mirror, you know. Dumbledore had to pull him away from it."

"And you were afraid he would be trying to get you two to talk to him every night."

"Yes."

"That's a reasonable explanation."

They remained in their embrace for several minutes, until Lily pulled away unwillingly.

"I don't want to, but I've got to go now," she said, brushing a tear off her cheek. She stood on her tiptoes, paused hesitantly, then leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek.

"One more thing before you wake up, Severus," Lily said, grabbing his arm as he made to walk away. "Harry has been doing a lot of crying this summer. Let him weep."

It was an odd command, but Severus nodded. "I will."

And with a final squeeze of her fingertips, Severus fell through the mist. He awoke abruptly, sitting up in bed. He touched his cheek where Lily had kissed him. It still tingled.

* * *

Harry awoke with pain in his neck and shoulder blades. He shifted his body so he was lying sideways, but that made it hurt even more. Pushing the blankets off his body, he sat up. It was then that he noticed a note on the table beside him. He picked it up, smiling faintly at the Headmaster's script.

I see that you are asleep now, Harry, so I won't bother to awake you. If you are worrying about Mark, he is now in the room in the library you used earlier. Draco is in the Slytherin dormitories, and Professor Snape is asleep in his own room. Feel free to take use of his kitchen, or order something from the house elves. Do remember that the students are arriving later tonight, and that I expect you to be ready.

Albus Dumbledore

Harry's smile faded. He had forgotten that today was the first of September, and that term was starting. Taking another look at the letter, he decided to take Dumbledore's advice and eat something from Snape's kitchen.

Harry opened the door into the small kitchen, rolling his shoulders back to get the feeling back into them. He opened a few of the cupboards, finding them nearly empty. He did, however, discover a loaf of bread, and ate half of it.

Brushing crumbs off his clothing, Harry wandered into the main room. Sirius's letters were still on the table, a few still untouched. Harry sat down again, hesitantly twirling one in his fingers.

Dare he read them?

But he still had that Transfiguration essay to do before tomorrow's classes, and McGonagall wouldn't accept any excuses.

But he needed--no, wanted--to finish reading these letters. It had helped him realize that Sirius was not coming back.

Harry gave up arguing with himself and opened the letter in his hands. The date, he noted with a bitter taste in his mouth, was the day he had left for the Department of Mysteries.

Dear Harry,

Dear God. You're at the Ministry of Magic right now, searching for me when I'm still back here at Grimmauld Place. Snape just stopped by and alerted us--me, Remus, Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Kingsley--but the sneering bastard made me stay here. And, everybody else agreed with him, saying that I ought to stay behind. It's bloody stupid, it is.

I've locked that slimy house-elf in the cellar. He's the one who started this mess, didn't he? Not telling you that I was in the house when you tried to contact me. I would love to Avada Kedavra the little git, but Snape told me that I should keep him alive for questioning later.

I don't even know why I'm taking orders for this Slytherin snake, but I know better than to push my luck. Snape was--and probably still is--a fantastic duellist, and I don't fancy being unconscious while everyone goes to save you.

Harry swallowed uncomfortably. He remembered Sirius backing down from Snape's wand in the Shrieking Shack. He fervently wished that Sirius had ignored his own advice and tried to go against Snape's wishes. Perhaps Sirius would still be alive, if he had done the thing that seemed the least logical...

Snape's stopping by again. Apparently, he was searching the Forbidden Forest for you and the rest of your friends. Great. Now I'm even more in his debt.

He's telling me to stay put, because he thinks I'm going to get myself killed. (We're communicating through charmed parchment now, because Umbridge is watching the fires.) I'm not responding. I know this is juvenile, but my inner fifteen-year-old is kicking in.

He keeps insisting that I stay put, that I don't move from this house at all. Stupid Snape. What does he know about taking care of you? Merlin, he's even daring to say that my leaving would result in you getting injured. I'm an inch away from tearing apart that parchment.

Fuck it. I'm going. I am not going to stay here and wait for everyone else to come back. I am not going to miss any more action. I have been locked up in this miserable house for months, and I cannot take it anymore.

Snape's right. I probably will die. I haven't been in a proper duel in ages. But I will die protecting you, Harry, and that's what counts. I've just informed Snape--and he isn't happy--but I don't fucking care.

I love you, Harry.

Sirius

A low yawn grasped Harry's attention. He turned to the sight of the sound and saw Snape standing in the doorway to his bedroom, stretching his arms above his head. He ran a hand through his unkempt hair before walking into the main room.

"Morning, Potter," he said, suppressing another yawn. He spotted the note on the table. "Did Dumbledore give you permission to raid my kitchen?"

"Yes," said Harry quietly. He turned his head away from the older wizard so Snape wouldn't see the tears that were streaming down his face.

Sirius's last words to him weren't as he expected. He hadn't thought Sirius would write him an angry rant about Snape, who, Harry realized with his heart sinking, had tried to stop Sirius from leaving. But Sirius had been stubborn, as he was, and refused to follow Snape's advice. And that had led to his death.

"Potter?"

"I said yes," said Harry, a little louder.

"I know what you said," said Snape, his voice rough from sleep. He was now standing by the couch, directly behind Harry. "You...don't seem all right. What's wrong?"

"Sirius."

"Ah. I see."

Harry stood up gingerly, folding the letter and placing it back into the envelope. He kept his head ducked down as he tried to walk past Snape.

"Potter." Snape's voice had taken hold of the raw, menacing tone that reminded Harry he was still a student. "Look at me."

Harry shook his head. It was bad enough he had nearly sobbed his heart out, but he was not going to show his tears to Snape. He dropped his head lower. Snape's hand caught his chin deftly and yanked his head up, his fingernails digging into the skin. The pain caused his eyes to water even more, and he flushed at how much of a wimp he must look like.

Snape surveyed him without a word. There was pity in his bottomless black eyes, which caused a stab of anger in Harry's stomach. The other man let go of his grip on Harry's chin. They stared at each other for a few, painful minutes.

"Do not be ashamed, Harry," said Snape finally, his voice soft. "Let the tears come."

And Harry did. Salty tears dripped from his eyes down his cheeks, a few falling onto his chapped lips, stinging them uncomfortably. Snape's hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, consoling him with a simple touch. Hesitantly, Harry let his head rest on Snape's chest. The other man didn't object, but held him firmly.

He wasn't sure how long he had wept, but it was enough that the front of Snape's robes was sodden with tears. Harry pulled his head away, wiping his nose apologetically.

"Sorry," he said. Snape's lips curved into half a smile.

"Quite all right, Mr. Potter. Are you done?"

Harry nodded, wiping his nose again. Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out a tissue. Harry took it gratefully.

"Your pockets seems to be like Hagrid's coat," said Harry after blowing his nose thoroughly. Snape inclined his head towards the fire, and Harry tossed the dirty tissue into the flames. "There's an endless supply of things in there."

"Indeed," said Snape, surveying him critically. "Are you feeling well enough to walk?"

"Yes."

"Good. You may go back to your other room and work on that essay for McGonagall before the students begin to arrive." Harry started to protest, but Snape cut him off. "And, no, you may not use Miss Granger's essay for help. I took the liberty of handing all her essays in early when I noticed them scattered about the study at headquarters. Your Potions essay is remarkably like hers, I noticed."

"Er..." was all Harry could say. Snape chuckled.

"Go to work, Potter. Wake up Mark if he's asleep."

"All right," said Harry, heading for the door. He walked up to the room he had used previously, muttering the password to the stagnant portrait of the Founders.

Mark was lying in bed, but he was not asleep. Instead, he was reading from an enormous, leather-bound book eagerly. He looked up when he heard Harry enter the room, and his eyes brightened.

"Hello, Harry!" he said enthusiastically. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I suppose," said Harry, coming over to sit at the foot of the bed. He tilted his head sideways to read the title of the book Mark was reading. "Potions for Beginners, by Professor Garner. I don't recall that being on my book list for my first year."

"It wasn't," said Mark. He carefully marked his page and set the book aside. "Professor Snape gave it to me."

"He did what?" Harry blurted out. Snape had never been one for giving presents, even to his most gifted students. Mark wasn't even technically his student yet. It was as believable as Filch handing out candies instead of the detentions he delighted in giving. All right, Mark was Snape's son, but the scenario was still slightly odd.

"I helped him make the potion he gave to you," said Mark proudly. "And he said I showed skill in Potions, so he gave me a book to look at. It's really interesting, there's so much stuff you can do with just a few ingredients. I love it."

A lump rose in Harry's throat. Of course Mark was good at Potions. Snape was good at Potions, and he seemed to have passed on those particular genes to his son. His son. It still bothered Harry.

"Well, I've got to finish my Transfiguration essay," said Harry, grabbing the half-finished essay from the bedside table. "Care to help me with it?"

"Transfiguration seems really difficult," answered Mark, sounding slightly uneasy. "I read the first chapter from A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, and it looked so complex. The certain angle your wand has to positioned, the words, all the things that can go wrong--"

"It's not terribly hard," Harry interrupted. "I mean, it's a bit confusing at first, but it just clicks after a few classes. I mean, I didn't know anything about magic when I got here, but I still managed to pass McGonagall's class."

"Ever think about becoming an Animagus?" Mark inquired. "You told me that your dad was one. A stag, right?"

"Yeah, he was," said Harry, smiling. "I think I'd like it, but it takes so long to do it. But it would be cool to be a bird, be able to fly..."

Harry curled his hands and flexed his arms, imagining them as wings. The roughness of the parchment against his fingers reminded him that he had an essay to do.

"Sorry, Mark, but I've got to finish this. I don't want to stay up all night doing something I should have done over the summer holidays."

"Okay." Mark grabbed his book and began reading immediately. Harry's smile widened.

* * *

An hour later, Harry rolled up his parchment and tucked it into his bag, which Madam Pomfrey seemed to have returned to his rooms. Mark was still reading Potions for Beginners almost breathlessly, his dark eyes alight with excitement as he looked over ingredients and procedures for new potions.

"I'm going to go hand this in to McGonagall," said Harry, pulling the strap of his bag over his shoulder as he walked to the portrait hole.

"Okay," Mark replied, not taking his eyes off the book. "Let me know when the train arrives?"

"Sure."

"Thanks."

Harry closed the portrait behind him, heading for his Head of House's office. As he approached the door, it opened of its own accord. Poking his head around the doorframe, Harry saw Professor McGonagall sitting at her desk, marking papers.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," she said crisply. "Come to hand in your summer work early?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, stepping inside and reaching into his bag. He handed over his essay, saying, "I used an extra roll of parchment to explain the importance of Animagi. Is that all right?"

"Of course," said McGonagall, giving him one of her rare smiles. She took the parchment and laid it on her desk. "Are you still thinking of becoming an Auror, Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know." Which was the truth. After all, if he did manage to kill Voldemort, wouldn't that be all the Dark stuff Aurors had to deal with?

"Professor Snape has been kind enough to let you into his N.E.W.T Potions class, I see," McGonagall observed. "And I do hope you'll be taking my class. You have your father's talent with Transfiguration."

Harry smiled, but it was weak. Thinking of James made him think of Sirius. "Thank you. I will be taking your class this year, but I think Hermione'll have to help me out with the tough things."

McGonagall began scribbling sentences in red ink across an essay that another student had handed in early. "You may go, Potter--Oh, I almost forgot. The Headmaster would like to see you before the students arrive this evening."

This made a pit of dread in Harry's stomach. When Dumbledore wanted to speak with him, it was normally something bad. "Okay. I'll go to his office right now. What's the password?"

"Fainting Fancies," said McGonagall. Her mouth was set at a firm line at the mention of the twins' product, but there was amusement in her eyes.

Harry chuckled. "Free advertising for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, I suppose?"

"Indeed. Go quickly, Potter, or you'll have to wait until after lunch."

Harry nodded his goodbyes and left McGonagall's office, en route to Dumbledore's office. He passed a couple ghosts in the corridor, including Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron. Both stayed on opposite ends of the corridor, glaring at each other. Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry, even in death, Harry thought aimlessly as he reached the gargoyle that took him to the Headmaster's office.

"Fainting Fancies," he said clearly, and the gargoyle jumped aside. Harry stepped onto the moving staircase, watching his feet until he reached the top. This door opened by itself, as McGonagall's had done. And, just as the Transfiguration Professor had been, Dumbledore was sitting at his desk. He clasped his hands together when he saw Harry enter the room.

"Ah, Harry," the old wizard said, gesturing to an armchair. Harry took it, placing his bag on the floor at his feet. He found himself staring stubbornly into Dumbledore's eyes, as though now he could make up for the loss of eye contact the previous year. "Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you. What was it you wanted to speak about, sir?" Harry asked. He looked away from Dumbledore's eyes when he felt the gentle probing of Legilimency in his mind. The Headmaster unwrapped a lemon drop carefully, setting the wrapper aside.

"Actually, I wanted you to speak," said Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair. Harry blinked, confused. "About this summer. Lots of things have happened since June, and I'd like you to tell me about them."

"Er...okay," said Harry, still feeling completely bewildered. He glanced down at his hands, which were rubbing together. He dropped them to his knees. "Well...I learned that Snape and my mother had a relationship."

"Are you unhappy about that?"

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't really bother me anymore. I mean, Lily had to have dated other people than just James. And it is Snape, but..." Harry held his hands out, palms up. "I've gotten used to it. Just one of those things I had to get accustomed to."

"Like Mark." It wasn't a question. Harry nodded anyway.

"Yes. That was a bit much at first. I mean, he's my half-brother. We're part of the same family. My mother's blood runs in his veins, the same as mine."

"Does it bother you?"

Harry shook his head. "Not that he's my brother. I always wanted a sibling, anyway."

"Does it bother you that Mark's father is Professor Snape?"

Harry hesitated, rubbing his thumbs together as he thought.

"Well...sort of. Snape isn't really...fatherly, you know. And he looks so much like Mark--or, rather, Mark looks so much like him. It's odd, but I suppose I'll get used to it. I mean, if Mark's my half-brother, and Snape's his father, then Snape is sort of like my stepfather."

Dumbledore pondered that for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, I suppose you could look at it that way."

"Snape's not that bad, though," Harry remarked on an afterthought. Dumbledore motioned for him to continue. "Yes, he's been awful to me since I arrived here, especially last year. The Occlumency lessons were brutal."

"How so?"

"He didn't really teach me anything, and you know that, Professor." Harry began to relax as he spoke. It felt good to speak about his emotions, to get rid of all the bottled up feelings that had been tormenting him all summer. "He didn't tell me how to push him away, just kept entering and re-entering my mind with Legilimency. Completely humiliating. I hated it. It was like my mind was being raped."

"Unfortunately, that it how most learn Occlumency," said Dumbledore, sounding almost sad. "Unless, of course, they had a patient teacher or are quite adept at teaching themselves. Like Draco, for example."

"Malfoy's been teaching himself?" Harry asked, surprised at the news. He had thought Snape was teaching the other boy in his spare time.

"Yes. When Professor Snape gave up teaching you two, Draco began to teach himself. Clearing his mind before he went to sleep, practicing blocking off his emotions, and using his Legilimency skills on himself."

Harry made a noncommittal sound. "Malfoy's changed a lot. It's weird."

"Tell me about it."

"Well, last year, he was threatening me with death because I put Lucius in Azkaban," Harry explained. "And this summer, he's been somewhat kind, apologizing to Hermione, not insulting the Weasleys every chance he gets...I suppose he's finally being faced with reality, huh?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Indeed."

"But I still can't trust him completely. He is a Death Eater after all, spy or not." He cracked his knuckles, then his wrists. "I guess I'll have to keep an eye on him this year."

"Tell me about Occlumency this summer."

"Different, because I was actually succeeding. But then it turned out to be Voldemort's skills I was actually using, so..." Harry shrugged. "We haven't done anything since I nearly killed Malfoy."

"Nothing?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Nothing. But I have been practicing," he added swiftly. Dumbledore's white eyebrows rose. "You know, trying to clear my mind before I go to sleep every night."

"I have noticed that you seem to have grown more...guarded."

Harry shrugged again. "I suppose."

"I think you will begin your Occlumency lessons again this year," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "With both myself and Professor Snape. Not too soon, however. Your mind is still very fragile."

"And duelling?" Harry offered hopefully. "Snape's been giving me--"

"Lessons in wandless magic," Dumbledore finished for him. "Severus has already informed me."

"You disapprove of it, don't you?" Harry said glumly, his heart sinking. But Dumbledore was shaking his head.

"Not enough that I will ignore the idea completely. I will think about it, Harry. I don't enjoy the thought of you practicing Dark Magic, but it will be helpful in the future."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Is that all for today, Professor?"

"Yes."

Harry picked at the nail on his right thumb, chewing on his lower lip. "I've been exceedingly angry at you this summer, Professor."

"I know," said Dumbledore gently.

"First of all, you don't tell me about the prophecy until it's too late. And then you sent Snape to Privet Drive, where I endured hours of Occlumency lessons until I was about to hit the ceiling with frustration. Then when I finally had a chance to leave Privet Drive, you made me stay there for a week under Uncle Vernon."

"I know," Dumbledore repeated. "And I sincerely apologise for that. Nothing I say can make it better."

Harry stopped picking his nails at the apology, looking up. Dumbledore smiled kindly.

"Do me a favour, Harry, and go hook up the thestrals to their respective carriages. They should all be behind Hagrid's hut, I believe he's begun already before his meeting with the centaurs..."

Harry brightened at the thought of seeing the half-giant, whom he hadn't spoken with properly since June. And then he would be able to see everyone again, when they got off the train...

"Good day, Professor."

"Good day, Harry."