Chapter 15
Harry had another fruitless night of sleep that evening, and as dawn threatened to break, he decided to do something he had been meaning to for a while.
*Dear Sirius,*
*Things have been hectic here. You probably already know some of what’s going on, but there’s so much I need to explain.* Harry wrote about the nightmares, about how Dumbledore had Harry temporarily settle with Snape in the interest of his protection. He mentioned Umbridge and her cruelty, and how Snape had helped heal his hand, though he conveniently left out the conversation they had prior to that.
*Snape…* Harry paused, tapping the quill against the ink bottle, wondering how to even begin expressing his thoughts about the professor.
*You’ll probably think I’m mad, but he's been a great help to me. He's... changed. I can’t quite understand it all but he’s been helping me in ways I didn’t expect. Not just with Occlumency, but other things too. He doesn’t treat me like he used to. It’s almost like he… cares, which I know sounds strange. I’m still trying to figure it out myself.*
Harry hesitated, thinking of the way Snape had been there when he woke in the infirmary, numb and exhausted from Voldemort's possession. How Snape had watched him during each of his extra lessons, cataloguing his every move with those sharp, dark eyes. And then, there was that...
Harry.
He shook the thought from his mind for the umpteenth time, noticing he had let the ink from his quill blot on the page.
*Anyway, I’ll explain more when I see you." He continued. *But my nightmares have stopped, at least for now, and it has been nice being back in Gryffindor Tower.* It was true, he thought, though a part of him still longed to be in that other place.
*I hope you're doing well, and I hope I can hear from you soon.* He finished.
*Yours, Harry*
He set his quill down and melted a small wax bead, then poured it onto the letter, sealing it and setting it aside. He felt lighter, thinking that even if he hadn’t revealed everything, it had still been helpful to share some of his experiences with Sirius.
A wave of exhaustion rippled through Harry's bones as he passed the letter to Hedwig, but he knew sleep would still not be so easily conquered.
He remained awake until breakfast, when his weariness was staring to become glaringly obvious.
"Harry, you alright mate?" Ron said as he approached and sat next to him in the great hall, piling his plate high with pastries.
Harry sighed and looked at his friend.
"Bloddy hell." Ron stated when he took in the bags under Harry's eyes, dropping a cream puff in the process.
"I haven't been sleeping well." Harry muttered.
"Well, or not at all?" Hermione chimed in as she arrived, a hint of awareness in her voice, as if she knew something no one else did. "You're not having those nightmares again, are you?" She added in a whisper.
Harry shook his head. All of Gryffindor would know if those nightmares had returned. "No. Just can't sleep."
Ron and Hermione exchanged looks of worry with each other, then continued.
"I know things have been busy for us lately Harry," Hermione began. "But... Maybe you should take a break for a day or two." Harry's head shot up. "Just to get some rest!" She quickly added. Nothing was quite as difficult to handle as a stubborn, irritated Harry Potter.
"You know I can't." He said. "I have another lesson with Snape tonight" he said, hushing his voice. "And since we've cut them down to just once a week, I really can't miss it... Plus, we have the D.A. to worry about. And I've been using my time awake to come up with some new ideas."
Harry began to talk at length with a manic energy about his ideas for training. When he reached into his robes to pull out a roll of parchment with individual lesson plans, Hermione reached over the table and grabbed Harry's hands, holding them softly.
"Harry." She said, her voice almost motherly, "Please, rest."
His energy left him the instant he met Hermione's eyes, and he nodded slowly, utterly defeated.
"Let's get you to the hospital wing." She said. "I'm sure you can be excused from your classes if you stay there… I will take that parchment though.” She added, and retrieved Harry’s bundle of notes on the D.A.
Harry nodded, grateful for Hermione's mind of reason. He was completely drained now, and both she and Snape were right. He needed rest.
Immediately upon arriving, Madame Pomfrey ushered Harry away to a bed and shooed Ron and Hermione out of the room. She hardly needed a glance to know the state Harry was in, and tucked him under thick, warm blankets before administering a sleeping draught.
"It'll only have you asleep for a few hours, but when you wake you'll feel much improved. Though perhaps, a bit groggy." She had told him.
As soon as the liquid touched his lips, Harry's eyes began to droop, and his sight became dark as he read the words 'two restful nights' on the label of the draught.
By dinner, Harry had risen from his magic induced sleep. He placed his legs onto the floor and pushed his body upward. It felt heavy, like a weighted blanket had been fastened around his shoulders, but his mind was far clearer than before, and the ache of exhaustion had left him.
As he stretched, Harry glanced at a clock on the infirmary wall.
Fifteen minutes.
It was all the time Harry had before he was to face what he secretly anticipated and also dreaded.
His heart tightened, and Harry put his hand to his chest, fingers grasping the thin cloth of his shirt anxiously.
I guess I'd better get ready. Harry thought to himself, feeling timid, but resolved not to leave his potions master waiting on him again.
He made his way into the dungeons to find the door to Snape's chambers open for him as usual, waiting.
Before announcing himself, he peered in to see a few flickering candles on the professor's desk. They cast harsh shadows onto the man's face, and Harry thought he looked like he might have benefited from a sleeping draught too. Though if he wanted it, he probably would just make his own, he figured.
As Harry raised his hand to knock, an unnecessary gesture given the open door, Snape spoke.
"How long do you plan on standing there, Potter?" He queried, head never lifting from his work.
"Sorry, professor." Harry said as he shuffled into the room.
The air became thick with quiet tension - the silence punctured only by the sound of a crackling fire in the hearth.
Snape closed his thick, leather bound journal and stood, simultaneously banishing the furniture from the room and leaving Harry standing in the center, exposed.
They locked eyes and stared at each other for a moment. It had been days now since they were alone like this, and the fact was fresh on his mind.
Harry’s ears and face reddened as he tore his eyes away to stare at the floor. The sight caused Snape to swallow hard and cast a glance to the side at the wall.
A beat passed, and Snape cleared his throat before saying,"Ready yourself Potter, and we will begin."
Harry tried to shake his embarrassment away and held his wand at his side, his mind anything but ready. Every occlumency lesson with Snape was a trial—an invasion of his most private thoughts, and tonight was no exception. His heart pounded in his ears as Snape spoke again, sensing Harry's unease.
“Clear your mind, Potter,” Snape instructed, his voice commanding, yet somehow supportive. He had regained his composure much faster than Harry, and his dark eyes were fixed on him, unblinking and intense.
Harry exhaled shakily, nodding. He tried forcing himself to push away the anxious thoughts swirling in his head. He knew he had to focus, but it was harder now, harder than ever. There was too much between them, too many layers of unspoken emotions and confusion.
But Harry closed his eyes anyway, giving silent permission, and the professor began.
“Legilimens!” Snape’s voice cut through the room like a blade and Harry could barely brace himself before the familiar, suffocating pressure of Snape’s mind breaking into his own overwhelmed him.
Images flashed before his eyes—conversations with Ron and Hermione, the bustling Gryffindor common room, the D.A. meetings, the letter he sent to Sirius. He tried to hold them back, tried to build up the mental walls Snape had been teaching him to construct, but it was like holding back a tide.
And then, without warning, another image burst forth—an image that startled Harry so much, it nearly knocked him off his feet.
Snape's figure appeared before him—not in the flesh, but in the deepest recesses of his mind. A glimpse of the man, his sharp features and dark, penetrating eyes, illuminated only by the warm light of a hearth.
Before Harry could react, a whisper reverberated through his head, his name, spoken softly:
Harry...
A wave of panic surged through him, and instinct took over. Harry forced Snape out with an unprecedented surge of power, the connection snapping abruptly, like a rubber band pulled too tight.
Snape flinched, his expression betraying something completely unexpected: surprise. Genuine surprise.
For a moment, the two stood surrounded only by the sounds of their heavy breaths. Snape raised his hand to smooth back his dark hair, from which a few strands had fallen loose from their usual place. His face was unguarded, the normally stoic mask faltering as he fixed himself.
Harry gulped and his heart raced, his mind still echoing with the sound of his own name in Snape’s voice.
“That was...” Snape began, his voice low, edged with hesitation, “impressive.”
Harry tried to compose himself at the words, unsure whether to feel proud or mortified. His eyes were fixed on the floor, unable to meet Snape’s.
“You’ve improved considerably,” Snape continued, his tone trying to regain its usual authoritative edge, though he was still obviously flustered. “To push me out so abruptly—”
He trailed off for a second, his dark eyes narrowing as though recounting all that had been laid out before him.
“You’re making progress.” Snape smoothed the last of his hair back into place, the momentary lapse of composure gone, though the weight of what had passed between them remained.
Harry’s chest tightened. He wanted to say something, anything, but his rational thoughts escaped him. All he could hear was the echo of his name and the background noise of his deeper thoughts screaming at Harry for having exposed what he did. His throat felt dry as he nodded stiffly, not trusting himself to speak.
Snape, too, seemed at a loss for words and simply looked at Harry, his gaze flicking over him with a kind of distant curiosity.
"That will be all for today, Potter," Snape said after a tense beat, his voice a little too brisk, as though he, too, was eager to distance himself from what had just occurred. He turned sharply, the swish of his robes cutting through the air, and the moment he looked away, Harry took the opportunity to escape.