This is my first HP fiction, so please, be kind to me. I couldn't think of any good title, so I've named it after the first word that sprang to me from a dictionary. Dumbledore wants Snape to continue teaching Harry Occlumency, of course, neither Snape, nor Harry are happy about it. To complicate it a bit, there's Snape's father (I named him Tarquinius, after the last king of Rome. Romans never had kings after him, hated even the word 'king', so you can imagine what kind of a man he was.). This isn't going to be slash. Snape and Harry together? Nooo . . . I know this summary doesn't tell much, sorry. And as I'm not a native English speaker, there may be mistakes, sorry for that too. I'm doing my best.
Rating:PG-13 for now, can be R later, not sure yet…
I don't own anything, don't sue me, they all belong to JKR . . .
Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office and at the sight of him Harry felt a great rush of hatred beyond anything he felt towards Malfoy . . . whatever Dumbledore said, he would never forgive Snape . . . never . . .
(Order of the Phoenix, page 750)
Never. Harry would never forgive Snape as well as he would never forgive himself. It had been two weeks since Moody had threatened Dursley at station, two weeks that reassured him of Sirius's death. The pain in his chest was still raw although in a weird, unexpected way, his stay at Dursleys' had helped him. No magic, nothing (almost) to remind him of Sirius. As for Dursleys, he had told them to leave him alone or he would hex them, not caring about the ministry. They knew that Sirius Black died and how he had liked him, so for most of the time they left him on his own. Dudley even seemed to be scared of him!
Somehow Harry had managed to control his pain, but it was more difficult with his anger. If he could get his hands on Snape's throat! He longed for revenge. Or if he could curse Bellatrix again and again with Cruciatus! He desperately wanted to hurt someone, to satisfy his anger and ease his pain. He wanted to curse Snape again and again, to watch him screaming under the force of Cruciatus, laughing at him and kicking him. He dreamt of Snape crawling weakly on the floor, across a pool of his own blood, begging for mercy. And he wouldn't grant him a mercy. Harry embraced his pillow, feeling sleepy suddenly. Slowly, his eyes shut . . .
Snape was kneeling on the cold ground, visibly trembling and panting heavily. Harry's thin skeletal fingers reached out to the man's cheek, caressing it almost lovingly. 'Why do you lie to me, Severus?' asked the inhuman, snake-like voice coming from Harry's mouth. 'Should I continue? Do you need more of Cruciatus to loosen your tongue?' He looked deep into the dark eyes of Snape to search for truth, but there was nothing, nothing that would suggest a lie. Then what was it that made him suspect this man? Was he becoming paranoid? No, no, he always knew!
He snatched Snape's hand, tracing his slender fingers with his own. A hand of an artist, a hand of a master. He tightened his grip on the wrist and Snape gasped. 'So? Will you talk, my dear professor?' There was no response from the kneeling man. Harry tightened his grip, heard bones shatter as Snape cried out, 'Forgive me, my Lord!'
Startled, Harry woke up, his scar burning. From time to time he visited Voldemort's thoughts, as he hadn't mastered Occlumency. So Snape was with Voldemort at the moment! He hoped Snape would get a few more of Cruciatus and bones breaking. Deep in his mind, a voice spoke 'The man is being tortured!', but Harry pushed it away. Let him suffer, the greasy git! Hopefully that 'Forgive me, my Lord!' didn't mean he was to give away the Order. Well, as for Harry, he believed Snape truly to be a Death Eater. Dumbledore was nuts to trust him.
It was a late sunny afternoon, very hot, and Dumbledore waited for his spy, sitting at Hogwarth's lake, cooling down his feet in water. Why did it take so long? He could tell that Riddle was becoming paranoid, suspecting nearly every of his Death Eaters. Severus often returned injured from the meetings and as much as he tried, he couldn't hide that from him. Sound of feet made him turn around, but it was only Dobby.
'Master Dumbledore shouldn't sit there unprotected from the sun. Dobby brought a parasol.'
The headmaster smiled warmly at the house elf and Dobby spoke on. 'Master shouldn't be worried. Master Snape always comes back.'
'Yes, Dobby,' sighed Dumbledore, 'but he often comes hurt.'
'Master Snape has always been strong, always.'
Dumbledore thought that Dobby had to know Severus for a longer time since he served the Malfoys. Before he could ask anything, a tall dark figure appeared at the Dark Forrest and walked straight up to him. He threw his Death Eater robes to the ground while clutching his right wrist. Severus Snape didn't look that intimidating and menacing when he wore simple jeans, a white long-sleeved T-shirt and sandals. In fact, in Dumbledore's opinion, he looked frail and vulnerable, especially with that ugly bruise on his cheek. He bit his lower lip as he sat down next to the headmaster whose worried gaze fell onto his wrist.
'You're hurt!' he exclaimed, taking the injured hand into his hands. Severus winced in pain.
'I'm fine', he said calmly.
'You're not, my dear. Poppy's on holidays, but I can fix that too.'
And Dumbledore drew out his wand, but Snape stopped him. 'No, you can't. The Dark Lord warned me not to touch it with magic. Just fix it with bandages, will you? Firmly, like Muggles do.'
Severus, as always, spoke softly and calmly, but Dumbledore could tell that his Potions Master was in pain. He knew him as well as his own son. Tiny signs like biting his lip or closing his eyes for longer than usually, spoke of his pain. Severus watched Dumbledore immobilising his wrists in bandages and began to speak.
'You should know, headmaster, that there's still a connection between the Dark Lord and Potter. Today when I looked into his eyes, something wasn't right. Potter was there, I'm sure. He failed miserably at my lessons, he can't close his mind.'
'What do we do, Severus?' sighed Dumbledore. 'Harry needs to master Occlumency.'
Snape frowned when the headmaster's blue eyes fixed his dark. 'No,' he protested, 'I don't like where your thoughts are going, sir! I won't teach that brat, never again! Besides, where would I teach him without the Dark Lord knowing of it?'
Dumbledore listened calmly to the teacher's outburst. He knew Severus enough to know that he would protest, shout, blackmail, sneer, glare, argue, quarrel, fume, but eventually he would do what had to be done. Snape stoop up, pacing back and forth, glaring daggers at Dumbledore, anger consuming his very soul, as he shouted,
'Why do you want me to teach that brat? He's got no talent for it; he doesn't want to learn! I hate him! If you think we would . . . would become closer to each other, then you're mistaken. You're manipulating me . . . us! You're no better than the Dark Lord!'
Severus stopped abruptly and looked at the headmaster apologetically. He hadn't meant to tell him that. Dumbledore smiled and Snape took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
'And . . . where would I teach him?' he asked softly. 'Here at Hogwarths? What would he be doing here all summer, in an empty school? Or do you think you can handle a teenager whose hormones . . .' Now Dumbledore laughed out loud, but Snape went on, ignoring him. ' . . . ehm . . . You don't mean me to take him home with me. You know that's impossible, my father's there . . .'
Dumbledore's expression sobered at once. 'Tarquinius is out of Azkaban? Why haven't you told me?'
Snape rose his fine eyebrow and replied sarcastically, 'Why, doesn't great Albus Dumbledore know everything?'
The headmaster ignored the sarcasm in question and stood up, worry evident in his eyes. How come he didn't know it? Severus Snape was one of the people closest to him and yet he hadn't known.
'Severus, you should've told me. What's he doing now?'
'Nothing much, enjoying his freedom. He's a bit mad after Azkaban, but fine. You know he's a Death Eater, although he was never found out.'
'Yes, I know,' said Dumbledore gravely. 'You're right, Harry shouldn't come to Hogwarths, at least not so soon when nobody's here except me and occasionally you. Grimmauld Place would be too disturbing for him, Weasleys are in France for a long holiday and it's too soon to take him away from his relatives. You'll have to go there, Severus.'
Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he said nothing.
'What do you think about it?' asked Dumbledore impatiently.
No answer. Severus simply shook his head and leaving the bewildered headmaster at the lake, he walked away to the castle. Was that a new tactic? No more shouting, insults, fuming, quarrels? How dare he, in times like these, refuse to help Harry? How could an old grudge effect him so deeply after years? Albus was usually a patient person, but now he felt anger burning in his veins. Not bothering to collect his shoes, he run barefoot to the castle after the stubborn Potions Master.
That's it, nothing much is happening in the first chapter, hopefully I'll be able to get some more action into it. Review are always welcomed.