A Thousand Fibres

Chapter Four

Harry woke up the next morning in an unknown room, his memories of the previous night fuzzy, at best.

He sat up slowly, looked around and spotted a note on the table. The same writing often used to write cutting comments on his Potions assignments covered a small sheet of parchment.

"Mister Potter,

You should wake up in time to participate in the breakfast in the Great Hall. I suggest you leave my rooms as soon as you finish reading this. Consequences of snooping around will be dire.

Come to my office this afternoon, at 15.00.

S. Snape"

Harry blushed, remembering. The panic, the breathlessness, and now he was in *Snape's* rooms.

He gulped, looked at his watch, and saw that he had, indeed, just time to go to the Great Hall.

"Thank God for Saturdays," he thought, getting to his feet. And wasn't it becoming his new motto?

He shot a curious look around, observing the comfortable and sparsely furnished room. He hadn't known what to expect - he didn't spend much time thinking about Snape's life, if he could avoid it. The man was a thorn in his side during class hours, Harry didn't want to spend his free time thinking about what Snape was like in private. Still, the rooms looked, well, normal. A couch, several shelves for the books, a table, no picture or paintings. Nothing revealing.

Harry shook himself. He couldn't stay much longer. He didn't think he could resist "snooping around" if he did. "Time to face the music," he thought, pushing the door and exiting the rooms.

While he was walking to the Great Hall, he tried to guess why Snape wanted to see him. Was he going to hand a detention, to take points, to yell? Even after all the hours they had spent working on Occlumency together, Harry never really knew what to expect from the man.

It wasn't true to say that Harry and Snape liked each other, even now. At best, they tolerated each other - which was already a victory, considering the state their relationship had been in at the end of Harry's fifth year.

They weren't at each other's throat anymore. Snape still spent more time deriding Harry than teaching him in Potions, but it had become so familiar to Harry that it barely angered him anymore. And in private, Snape was civil. Nothing more, but civility was such an improvement that Harry didn't complain.

Thinking back about his sixth year, Harry supposed they had reached a satisfying status quo. They probably wouldn't kill each other, after all. Emphasis on probably.

* * *

1996/1997

Snape's role as a spy came to an end in the summer following Harry's fifth year. Harry never knew exactly what happened, nor did he care. He was too busy mourning Sirius, and drowning in guilt, to pay attention to the war. A few rumours circulated in the school, once it was publicly know that Snape had been a spy. He had been betrayed by a fellow Death Eater, some whispered. Or he had refused to kill his lover. Or the Dark Lord had fed him Veritaserum and questioned him. Or Professor Dumbledore had decided not to risk him on a particular mission. Or... Or...

Harry refused to speculate. He knew from experience that rumours were rarely true, and he didn't think any of the students knew what had happened. Whatever had happened, it didn't matter. The animosity between he and Snape hadn't diminished.

Harry refused to resume his Occlumency lessons after the summer. He didn't blame Snape for what had happened to Sirius - he believed Professor Dumbledore when he said that Snape had done everything he could to save Sirius. Simply, Harry didn't think that having his mind prodded by someone who hated him so much, and whom he hated so much, would be productive for anyone. He took enough abuse from the man in Potions class, thank you very much. He didn't want to add to that.

He asked Hermione if she had ever read about Occlumency. She blushed, went to her room, and came back with a list of books, and a thick pile of parchments covered with notes she had taken. "I researched it last year," she admitted. "In case you needed help. I never... I'm sorry, I didn't tell you, but..."

"But I would have yelled at you, and stopped talking to you for days," Harry completed.

She nodded. "It shouldn't have stopped me."

Harry took the notes. "You were *not* the one who needed to do better," he said fiercely.

She bit her lower lip. "Harry, it's dangerous. Some of the stuff in there, you shouldn't attempt alone. Please, go ask Professor-"

H cut her off. "No," he said.

His tone must have convinced her that the subject was closed. She didn't insist. She just told him to ask her if he needed help.

So, Harry began with the books Hermione had read, then went on researching Occlumency on his own, and studied that way. Not a foolproof method, as he would soon discover, but he was at least able to shield himself, to some extent.

Then, shortly before Christmas, Harry had a bad vision. Voldemort had been very active that night, murdering a Muggle family, and Harry saw through the monster's eyes as he tortured and killed everyone in the house. The sheer strength of Voldemort's emotions completely overwhelmed Harry and caused him more pain than he would have imagined possible. When he awoke, he didn't remember most of what he had seen - which was probably for the best. The few details he did remember were more than enough.

Later, he learned that Ron had waited ten minutes before going for help, when it had become apparent that the vision wasn't going to stop. Harry had damaged his vocal cords screaming, and they were so irritated that he spent nearly a week whispering.

He could remember waking up, some undetermined time later, to hear Professor Dumbledore's worried voice and his potions professor's scathing tones.

"This is enough, Severus," Dumbledore was saying.

"He has proven that he is not able-"

"Severus, I never asked for explanations for the way you teach your classes, but this is not about teaching a class. This is about freeing the world from Voldemort, something you swore you would do. This is about helping a sixteen-year-old child placed in your care to survive."

"If he was interested in survival-"

"I said *enough.*" The last time Professor Dumbledore had used that voice, he had been questioning Crouch Jr. Harry lay very still and listened. "Harry is not James, and the sooner you come to terms with this, the better. I shouldn't have let the situation deteriorate so much, but I'm stepping in now. You will teach him Occlumency again. You will be civil to him while doing so. You will explain things to him as many times as necessary. If he requests someone else's presence during these lessons, it will be granted." There was a short pause. "He almost died last night, Severus. What do you think Voldemort will do, if he learns that?"

Snape's voice was strained as he answered, "He will do the same thing again, every night, until Potter dies."

"Precisely. He usually sends his Death Eaters do the dirty job, but if he learns what happened to Harry when he did it himself, you know he won't hesitate."

There was a silence, then Snape said, his tone harsh, "He invaded my privacy."

"Yes. I do believe there are explanations, to that."

"Explanations." The word was almost spat.

"Severus, speak with him."

"He never even apologized."

Another silence, then Professor Dumbledore's weary voice, "And did you give him an opportunity to do so, Severus?"

...

"He is sixteen. He is here to learn. You are here to teach."

Snape's voice was almost defeated when he answered, "Yes, Albus."

The men went away then, and Harry opened his eyes, and looked at the window. The world was blurry without his glasses, but there wasn't much to see. It was pitch black outside. The thought of picking up Occlumency again horrified him. The thought of Snape, sneering, mocking, humiliating him, made his blood boil.

He had never understood why Professor Dumbledore let the man have his way with abusing the students he was supposed to be teaching. And he would probably have refused flat out, if...

If Professor Dumbledore hadn't admitted, just then, that he should have stepped in sooner.

If the last vision he had had hadn't been so utterly terrifying.

If he hadn't spent two days in a coma because of it.

If it hadn't been proved that studying Occlumency on his own just wasn't going to cut it.

He knew Professor Dumbledore had probably known he was awake, a few minutes ago. The Headmaster seemed to have a way of making sure that people heard things he wanted them to hear. So, he had probably partly wanted to manipulate Harry into agreeing. But Harry had to admit, he didn't think he'd survive another vision like the last one.

He sighed inwardly. He would accept. But he would hold the Headmaster up to what he had said, and he definitely wouldn't accept a repeat of last year's sessions.

His decision made, he fell back asleep.

* * *

When Harry awoke again, a hand was brushing his hair from his forehead. Then a thumb rubbed small circles near his hairline. He had seen that kind of gesture on TV, but no one had ever actually done that to him, yet. Except perhaps Hermione, once or twice. The hand didn't feel like Hermione's though.

He opened one eye, and saw a familiar figure standing near him.

"Remus?"

"Hey, Harry," Lupin said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

The sensation of the mattress shifting woke Harry completely. He sat up, slowly, relieved to notice that the headache that had been a constant companion the last few times he had been conscious had vanished. "What are you doing here?"

Lupin put his glasses in his hands, and Harry put them on gratefully.

"What do you think?" Lupin asked, smiling gently. For a moment, Harry missed Sirius horribly, violently. His godfather should have been here. Harry liked Lupin, but it wasn't the same as having Sirius with him.

His feelings must have shown on his face, and Lupin smiled sadly. "I miss him too," he said.

Harry nodded, fighting the urge to cry.

"How do you feel?" Lupin asked, once they were both more composed.

Harry shrugged. "As well as possible, I guess. Considering."

Lupin nodded. "Yes."

Harry growled softly. "Professor Dumbledore asked you to talk to me, didn't he?" he asked, hoping it wasn't disappointment he felt. He would have liked to know that Lupin had come because he was fond of Harry, not to obey the Headmaster's wishes.

"Yes."

Harry opened his mouth, and Lupin went on, "I told him to get lost."

Harry's mouth stayed opened. Lupin smiled. "Serious discussions can wait until you're out of here."

"Can they?"

Lupin eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "You've already decided," he said.

"Yeah. How - ?"

Lupin shrugged. "You look brave and resigned to your fate."

Harry snorted, then grew serious. "I'm not saying I'll just take anything from Snape."

Lupin nodded. "That was a great part of my discussion with Albus." He stared at his hands. "Harry, I'm sorry. We left you alone, didn't we?"

Harry swallowed past the lump that was forming in his throat. "You tried not to," he said. "You *did* warn me."

Lupin sighed. "But no one talked to you. We always assumed there would be time later. That we were keeping you safe, and that there would be a time for explanations. Later. We never really listened, just told you what to do."

Harry shook his head. "I knew stuff was happening. I just didn't know what."

"Harry..."

Harry cut him off. "I know I'm a huge target, I know I'll never know what's happening in detail in case I'm captured."

"But you want to know what concerns you." Lupin put a hand on Harry's, and smiled sadly. "Sirius yelled at Dumbledore every time he saw him, last year. 'You need to tell Harry, he deserves to know.' 'Don't keep him locked up.' 'Do you have any idea what your indifference is doing to him?' 'Don't leave him alone with Snape, with Umbridge.'" Lupin's eyes met Harry's. "We all should have listened to him."

This time, a tear did make his way down Harry's cheek, and he hastily wiped it away. Lupin, he noticed, didn't look away like he had when they were working on the Patronus charm. For some reason, that pleased Harry.

They stayed silent a moment. Then Lupin said, "See, I had promised the serious discussions could wait and here we are-"

"I never really tried," Harry said abruptly. He had never talked with Lupin about that night at the Ministry. He supposed Lupin had known about what had happened in the Headmaster's office, but suddenly, it seemed important to say it himself to the last of his father's friends still alive. "I didn't want to do it, I never found the time, or I was too curious to know what the Order was keeping from me, and then it was too late."

Lupin leaned over and hugged him. "You were fifteen. Yes, you should have done better, but then, we all should have, and we're the adults here."

"It's not enough," Harry said fiercely, trying to break from the embrace. Lupin didn't let him go, and even hugged him tighter.

"The only thing we can do, Harry, is remember Sirius, learn and move on. I can already assure you that Albus, even if he doesn't tell you *everything,* will never make the mistake of ignoring you again. And we will be here to talk about your lessons with Severus. I'll come to the castle every week."

"Special treatment," Harry mumbled.

He felt Lupin shake his head. "Parents may come see their kids at any time. Most choose not to, often because their kids are self conscious teenagers, and because their problems can be dealt with by the staff easily enough. But I assure you that my own parents came to see me when my transformation had been particularly hard. And no one would refuse a student here any help he would need. You've never seen it happen, because there are attention-diverting charms put, so that no one notices."

Harry disentangled himself from the embrace, and faced Lupin. "Okay," he said.

Lupin sighed, and added, "And you can be sure that it is not a duty, or an obligation, or whatever it is you've decided it is."

Harry still had his doubts, but he nodded, tired. Lupin squeezed his hand, and accioed a chair. He sat down. "Try to sleep," he said. "I'll stay for a while."

Harry settled down, a little off balance after the discussion. He never discussed Sirius in front of Ron and Hermione, because, as tonight had demonstrated, he just couldn't keep it together when he did. They, in turn, didn't try to broach the subject, and sometimes, Harry felt as if Sirius was being forgotten already. He knew it wasn't voluntary on their parts but that didn't make him feel better.

Talking with Lupin had been good, he admitted.

* * *

The first Occlumency lesson, three days after Harry had been released from Madam Pomfrey's care, was unsettling. Snape had obviously been talked to by several people, and tried to look civil. Harry could see the man bursting to say something cutting, and he braced himself - if it was even possible to brace oneself for what was to come.

Last year's experience hadn't made him confident in his abilities, or in his teacher.

Like last year, it began badly. Snape was able to push past whatever shield Harry had ever managed to achieve without so much as a glitch.

He opened his mouth and Harry waited for the insults. "Potter, are you familiar with the concept of clearing one's mind?"

Harry gritted his teeth. For the man, that *was* as civil as he ever got. "Yes. I just don't understand how it's done. Is it thinking about nothing? How can I think of nothing?"

Severus looked at him, disbelieving. "Potter, didn't we go through this last year?"

Harry bit back an angry retort. He had promised Lupin, and Professor Dumbledore, and Sirius, that he would try to do better this time around. And a big part of his failure last year was that he hadn't said exactly what the problem was - not that Snape would have listened, but Snape seemed more cooperative this time, for now, so he said, "No, sir. You said, 'Clear you mind,' but I didn't know how to do that, and I still don't know how to do that. I tried to read about it, but it didn't help."

Snape sighed, and sat down. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"I did," Harry pointed out, tired already. "I said I didn't know what you wanted me to do."

Snape opened his mouth, his eyes dark, and Harry said quickly, "And yes, I should have tried better anyway, and I'm sorry I looked into your pensieve. I did try to apologize then, but." Nothing he could have said would have been diplomatic, so he fell silent and waited. For Snape to have a heart attack or start throwing things at him again. Or for the world to end.

Snape growled slightly, then said, "Let us forget about what happened here last year, Potter," he said dangerously.

"Yes, sir."

"Now, let's talk about clearing your mind."

* * *

It took two months until Snape declared himself satisfied with Harry's progress. He still wanted to work with him, for, as he put it, "Voldemort will not satisfy himself with an acceptable performance, Mister Potter," but Harry could at least fall asleep without fearing to have his mind invaded by the monster.

Lupin, true to his word, came every Saturday. He met Harry in an unused classroom on the third floor, and they talked, about Snape and how Harry was doing, about classes and the DA, about Sirius, and Harry's parents. The conversations often left him drained, and depressed, but at least, on the long run, he felt himself getting better. Lupin often sighed that he shouldn't have been left at the Dursleys after Sirius's death, that he should have come sooner. Harry once answered that at least, he was there now. Lupin smiled sadly, and for a second, Harry knew Lupin had thought about James.

Professor Dumbledore couldn't take Harry for private talks too often - he was, after all, the Headmaster, and couldn't show favouritism. He had, however, talked to Harry about Occlumency, and Snape. Harry had told him that he would take the lessons, but wouldn't take any crap from Snape. Later, he would blush at the words he had chosen.

"It's one thing to criticize so I can do better, it's another to yell, and insult, and use Occlumency as *punishment* when I'm not good enough. Perhaps he has his reasons to systematically trash me in Potions, to under grade all my papers and sabotage my potions, but Occlumency lessons are private."

Professor Dumbledore had looked a little taken aback, but had nodded nonetheless. "I already talked to Professor Snape, Harry," he assured.

Harry nodded, then sighed. "I'm sorry."

"You are under more pressure than most of your peers."

So, while Snape's behaviour toward Harry didn't change in Potions class, in private, he was keeping his temper under check. So was Harry. With a few exceptions, sometimes, but they were not perfect men by any means.

Sometimes, Harry wondered what his father would have thought about the relationship Harry had with Snape.

Snape still thought Harry was too arrogant, Harry still thought Snape was a vindictive, bitter man. He may have had his reasons to be like this, but Harry didn't have to like it. In his moments of brutal self honesty, Harry admitted that Snape was all he feared becoming - embittered by his past, unable to let anyone close to him. Lonely and vengeful.

They could hold entire conversations without biting each other's heads off, though. As long as there weren't any witnesses to the fact. As long as they were both calm to begin with. Sometimes Harry thought of Snape as two different people. There was the bastard who was teaching Potions, who humiliated him every chance he got and took points and insulted him. And there was the man he met for private lessons, who gritted his teeth to stay polite, who sometimes manifested a sly sense of humour that Harry could almost appreciate, who had saved his life more times than he cared to think about.

Still, for all the politeness between them, Harry felt monumentally embarrassed as he made his way to Snape's office. He had deflected Ron's questions about the previous night as best as he could - "I was just walking around, Ron" - but he had the feeling Snape was going to assign detention and take points for sneaking out after curfew.

He reached Snape's office, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

"Enter," he heard.

He entered. Snape was grading papers at his desk. He spared one glance at Harry, gestured for him to take a seat, and finished the paper he had begun.

Harry waited, trying not to fidget.