4.

That evening, Harry found everything much easier. It began at dinner, when he saw the Gryffindor hourglass with the added points (nobody could imagine how Gryffindor had received twenty points on a Sunday, but Harry didn’t say a word, just sat and ate in silence) and it lasted all the evening to Hermione’s surprise and Ron’s relief. When finally they were alone in a corner of the common room, Harry surprised them.

“It was Snape who gave those twenty points.”

Ron nodded absentmindedly as he tried to understand his Transfiguration text, but Hermione’s eyes grew wide.

“What?”

Harry shrugged and smirked widely.

“For cleaning the Potions classroom.”

“But…” Hermione furrowed her brows, “it was a detention! And Snape had never given Gryffindor points before! It’s unheard of!”

“And he offered to accept me into his Advanced Potions class,” he said simply.

Hermione’s jaw fell, and Ron’s Transfiguration clapped aloud on the floor.

“WHAT?” the red-headed boy jumped to his feet. “What? Did you mention points? And being accepted into that blasted Advanced Potions class?”

“My cleaning skills must have enchanted him…” Harry tapped his chin as if in thought and smirked.

“No,” Hermione shook her head.

“Yes,” Harry replied.

“What did you make him drink?” Ron asked suspiciously.

“Nothing.”

Hermione didn’t find their conversation amusing.

“What happened, then?” she asked sternly.

Harry finished the joking and sighed.

“We had a talk. We apologised to each other. That’s all.”

Ron shook his head as if there was water in his ears.

“But why did you have to apologise? You didn’t do anything to him! It was always him who treated you like shit!” By the end of the sentence, his voice was pitched in indignation.

Harry leaned down and picked Ron’s book up from the floor and put it on their desk glaring around. Only after everybody returned their own business, he explained, “But I did, Ron. Last year, he ended our Occlumency lessons, because I looked into his Pensieve.”

“And what did you see?” Ron looked intrigued, but Hermione glared at him disapprovingly.

“Ron!” she turned to Harry and her expression was beyond reprimanding. “That was very, very rude of you, Harry!

Harry sighed.

“I know. That was the reason he kicked me out of those Occlumency lessons.”

Hermione’s face darkened, but she didn’t utter a word. Ron, on the contrary, was really curious.

“Hey, mate! You should tell me what you’ve seen!”

Harry shook his head firmly.

“I can’t. I promised him not to tell anybody. It was something really personal.”

“Death Eaters? You-Know-Who?” Ron guessed.

“RON!” Hermione and Harry yelled in unison. Ron rolled his eyes.

“It’s none of your business, Ron,” Harry flung his arms. “I can’t tell you.”

Ron frowned, but didn’t press the topic. Hermione, on the other hand, leaned forward.

“And why did he want to talk to you all of a sudden?”

“I broke down,” Harry answered simply. “I thought I was alone. I was, really, but he had some warning spell on the classroom and it warned him that something had happened.”

“Warning spell?” Hermione seemed suspicious.

“I think he and professor McGonagall were waiting for me to break down,” Harry explained smiling slightly.

“And he didn’t mock you for crying?” Ron scratched his neck and his disbelieving expression deepened. “Strange. He must have some human feelings after all…”

This time, Hermione didn’t disapprove, which meant that she agreed with Ron.

“Well, not only they were waiting for this,” she said deep in thought.

“For what?” Harry didn’t understand.

“For you to break down,” she answered matter-of-factly. “You were under such huge internal pressure…”

“Was it that apparent?” Harry was taken aback. Both Ron and Hermione nodded.

“Will you accept his offer?” Hermione asked suddenly.

“I don’t know yet,” Harry sighed. “I will have some real Remedial Potions and he can decide if he wants me in his class or not.” He smiled. “Anyway, he promised to treat me civilly.”

“I have to see that room,” Ron smirked. “You must be quite a skilled cleaner, if he even offered civil terms!”

The next day, when Harry went to his private lesson with Snape, he felt the old dread approaching him again: the dread he had felt only before Potions lessons, and for a while he was considering turning back. But in the end, common sense won and Harry knocked on the door of Snape’s office.

“Come in,” the usual cold voice barked and Harry suddenly regretted his previous decision. He wasn’t in the mood to bear Snape’s cold and hurting remarks about his incompetence. “Come in!” the voice repeated louder, so Harry took a deep breath and entered.

“Oh, it’s you,” Snape looked up from a simmering cauldron. “Close the door.”

Harry complied and stepped ahead tentatively.

“Come here,” Snape said irritated. “I promise I won’t bite.”

Harry forced a smile and almost tiptoed closer to the working desk. Snape showed him a thick, open book and with a slight nod he motioned Harry next to him, where a knife and six piles of ingredients were waiting for him to begin.

With a sudden decision, Harry took off his outer robes, and with a sigh, he prepared to work. Soon, he was standing next to Snape chopping and piling, slicing and smashing ingredients in the order he was told or he read in the book, while, from time to time, Snape gave him short explanations about the difference between brewing methods and characteristics of different ingredients. Harry felt absolutely useless as he tried to follow Snape’s advices and orders, his powdered dragon teeth seemed more smashed than powdered and he even managed to chip the knife. His hands trembled in nervousness as he handed the prepared ingredients over, but Snape didn’t utter a word, although the potion in the end turned pink instead of lilac.

“That’s enough for today,” the Potions Master said, and when Harry wanted to apologise for his clumsiness, the man simply smirked. “For the first try, it was almost acceptable…”

“Almost?” Harry asked uncertainly. Snape’s smirk widened.

“Well, not an A, but not a D either. A fair P I’d say.”

Harry shrugged.

“I told you… sir.”

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“It was just the first lesson. Don’t worry, Mr Potter, it will be much better – if you pay any attention, that is.”

Before leaving, Snape gave him some books with precise instructions on what to read in them before Thursday.

It took several sessions for Harry to get used to work with Snape, but by the end of November, he found their working together almost comforting and their conversations somehow always eased the burden on his soul. Generally, they talked about Potions, but after the first week, other topics appeared during their common sessions: Quidditch, History, the wizarding community or other students or teachers.

From time to time, Snape mixed some personal references into their talks, but the first time he concretely referred about Harry’s problems, happened in the second week of November, on a Monday ‘Infirmary Session’ as Harry called it.

“Professor McGonagall told me she hasn’t seen you in the Astronomy Tower in the last weeks,” Snape told him in that strange, chatting tone, they generally used, while they were brewing a mild strengthening potion. Harry didn’t react, just muttered something unintelligible under his breath. “What?” Snape insisted.

“I have no time to go there,” Harry repeated in embarrassment. “I’ve got my homework and essays and even this potions stuff…”

“Oh,” Snape lifted an eyebrow. “If you think it hinders you in more important issues, we can stop this…”

Harry looked up surprised.

“No,” he said, but then something came to mind. “But if you don’t want it, sir…”

Snape smirked.

“Oh, no, not at all. Having free help is always handy…”

“Free?” Harry’s eyes widened. “All those ingredients I wasted…”

“Never mind. It wasn’t my money, and on the other hand you would have wasted the same amount of raw materials in classes, or even more. So? Why did you give up going to the Astronomy Tower then?”

Harry stirred the potion several times before answering.

“After that… cupboard accident, I couldn’t grieve for Sirius any more,” he said softly. “The way they, he treated you somehow… killed something in me,” his words were quiet, but clear. “I just… couldn’t love him any more the way I did him before. What they did was unforgivable… even if they were kids. The thing I saw in your Pensieve,” he cast an apologising glance towards his professor, but the man nodded inviting him to continue “was humiliating and everything, but… locking you in that cupboard… was unforgivable.”

“That didn’t happen only once,” Snape’s voice was hoarse and he didn’t lift his eyes from the monkshood he was chopping. “They stopped just after the fourth or fifth occasion when I cursed your father so hard that he almost died,” his mouth curled into a sly smile, but it soon disappeared and was replaced by a bitter expression. “I earned a month of detention and one hundred points were taken from Slytherin and nobody listened to me when I said I was just protecting myself… After that, everybody in my own house hated me too…”

Harry didn’t say a word, just prepared the next ingredient in silence, and apparently Snape felt the same way, because that day neither of them talked any more.

The disturbed awkwardness disappeared by their next meeting, for which Harry was very grateful, and they continued to talk about the usual matters, but this time, Snape arrived at the non-neutral topics faster than the previous occasion.

“How are your Occlumency lessons going?” he asked in the middle of brewing the quite complicated Invisibility Potion, which was already a part of the fifth-year curriculum.

Harry pretended he didn’t hear the question, but his tactic failed, because the silence told Snape everything he wanted to hide.

“It’s highly irresponsible behaviour, Mr Potter,” he looked down his nose at Harry with his brows furrowed angrily. “You know the possible consequences…”

“I practice clearing my mind every night!” Harry snapped and turned his head away.

“That’s not enough!” Snape lifted his voice and his irritation was perfectly obvious to Harry. “That’s an important part of it, but not even close to being enough!”

Harry dropped the knife on the desk and folded his arms over his chest.

“I don’t want to study Occlumency from Dumbledore and I won’t!” he cried annoyed.

“Potter…”

“NO!” Harry bellowed and stepped back from Snape, who now was infuriated.

“That’s…”

“Even if you deduct every points from Gryffindor, I don’t mind!” Harry trembled in anger and desperation. “I can’t go to Dumbledore! I can’t open my mind to him! I don’t want his help, his advice, his orders, I don’t want to live a carefully regimented life, I don’t want to fight with Voldemort and I don’t want to die! You weren’t there last year!” he unfolded his arms and hit the desk with his fist. “You don’t know how he treated me, ordered me around without one sincere word! He didn’t even talk to me, just after Sirius’s death!” he almost shrieked the last words, but now, at the mention of Sirius’s name, he suddenly regained his composure. He collapsed to a chair and looked at Snape apologising. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t want to…”

“It’s okay,” Snape sighed and after putting out the fire, sat next to him. The potion was spoiled anyway. “But… Potter, you have to forgive him and start Occlumency again. It’s very, very important. And the Headmaster is a very skilled and patient teacher,” he didn’t add, but Harry seemed to hear the second half of the sentence ‘unlike me’.

“I’d rather learn Occlumency from you,” he muttered embarrassed.

“What?” Snape looked at him as if he had grown another limb.

“I’d rather learn Occlumency from you,” Harry repeated, this time a little louder.

The man looked at him in total disbelief.

“Have you gone mad, Potter? I’ve already told you that for successful Occlumency studies there has to be a trusting relationship between teacher and pupil,” he said as if he were talking to a mentally disabled child.

Harry shrugged.

“I know, I’m not that daft not to remember,” he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “But… but I trust you more than the headmaster.”

Harry’s simple sentence silenced Snape. The Potions Master stared at Harry for a long time, then he jumped to his feet.

“You think it’s a good joke, isn’t it, Potter?” he snapped.

“No,” Harry replied as quickly as he could. “Not a joke. It’s the truth.”

Snape released a short, bitter laugh.

“Do you really think I will believe this crap? I’m not that daft either, Mr Potter!”

“But it’s true!” Harry stood up and tapped his foot angrily.

“Why should you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Harry asked back forcing himself to remain calm. “You were worried about me even if you don’t like me. You helped me after that with these lessons and talking…” his ears turned red in embarrassment. “I don’t know, but since we began… began to work together, I feel simply better.” Snape eyed him warily. Harry sighed. “If you don’t believe me, you can cast Legilimens on me,” he said. "Or make me drink Veritaserum. I know you've always wanted that."

The disbelieving expression on Snape’s face slowly was replaced with an amused-surprised one.

“It’s a pity your father or godfather couldn’t hear that statement,” he smirked.

Harry bit his lips together not to snap angrily. “I’m not them,” he muttered darkly.

Snape snorted, but didn’t comment.

“You have to master Occlumency, Potter,” he said quietly later.

Harry nodded.

“Can you… can you teach me again, sir?” he asked, but his throat was so narrow with nervousness that he could barely speak.

“Are you sure you can trust me?” Snape’s voice was soft, but steady.

“Yes,” Harry answered firmly. “And you…?”

Snape shifted and cleared his throat.

“If you promise you won’t spy on my Pensieve any more, Mr Potter, I’m in.”

Harry forced himself to look up straight into Snape’s cold, black eyes.

“I promise. And I’m really sorry I did.”

For a very long moment, Snape stared back unwavering. “Very well, then. But what will your friends say when they learn you spend three evenings with the mean, Slytherin monster?”

Harry smirked.

“Ron will think I went even more mad than I was before. Hermione will be happy I am continuing Occlumency. Last year, she always harassed me about it,” he leaned backward. “But, seriously, I think they are grateful to you.”

“Grateful,” Snape repeated sarcastically. “What for?”

“For helping me,” Harry said. Snape snorted but didn’t make another comment.

By the beginning of Christmas holidays, Harry felt utterly exhausted and not only a little bit behind in his studies. Fortunately, Hermione constructed a study plan for Harry for the holidays and both she and Ron decided to stay and study, so Harry had the hope of catching up with all those things he had neglected in the first two months of school.

Hermione let them have free evenings, so Harry could enjoy some tea with Hagrid and once even with McGonagall, who was absolutely pleased with the improvement of Harry’s grades and behaviour.

Although Snape declared their Remedial Potions finished, Harry didn’t give up going to the Occlumency lessons, and to their ‘Infirmary sessions’ to brew potions for Madam Pomfrey. When Harry, after Snape’s dismissal of him from Remedial Potions, had first returned the next Monday, the Potions Master had seemed bewildered.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” he barked nervously.

“You said free help is always handy,” Harry answered cheekily and slipped into the room next to the frozen Snape.

“So, you decided not to have mercy on Madam Pomfrey and waste even more of the school’s potions ingredients,” he said in a voice, which was intended to sound cold, but Harry just grinned.

“Of course!”

Harry’s reaction jolted Snape even more.

“I've never thought I would agree with a Weasley in my life, but you really have gone mad, Potter,” he whispered wide-eyed, but he hadn’t protested again.

That had been the occasion when Harry realised how easy and somehow warm their relationship had become. Even his Occlumency studies had progressed tremendously. When he asked Snape about the reasons for this fast improvement, he answered Harry in his usual manner.

“Honestly, Potter, I don’t have to explain you about trust!” he snapped.

“My trust or yours?” Harry asked back.

Snape growled.

“Both, you stupid kid.”

The answer surprised Harry enough to dare ask the question he had been long curious about, “Sir, why didn’t you destroy that… cupboard door?”

“Because I couldn’t,” Snape hissed back, but Harry couldn’t detect venom his tone, just embarrassment.

“Why?”

“They cast some protecting Charm on it, I guess,” he said irritated. “I tried to break it many times, you can imagine… I think it was Black, who had found that Charm in his home library… I can’t break it until I know precisely what the spell is,” he waved dismissively. “Off you go now, Potter, those Gryffindor friends of yours will be nervous if you spend too much of your time here… They will think the Slytherin monster consumed you for dinner…”

Leaving, Harry was thinking about Snape’s unsuccessful attempts. Those prats! How did they dare…! But even if Snape couldn’t break that Charm, he would. He had an advantage, Snape didn’t have after all: he knew one of the people who had cast it. And Christmas was quite near anyway…

Next part