Walk the Shadows

Afterwards, he was surprised that Snape did not bring out tea, which had become their custom after flying. He imagined that Snape found him easier to deal with when he was in a good mood from being outside. This time, though, Snape brought out a wide, covered bowl and set it on the table between them.

The pensieve.

Harry swallowed hard, looking at the seemingly innocuous stone bowl. It was the same one he'd gone into last year, and seen the memory that Snape had hidden from him. He glanced up through his fringe at the Professor, who stared back at him. There was no hatred in his gaze, but Harry still shuddered, remembering. It was the only time he'd been truly afraid of Snape and his legendary temper. And it was his biggest regret of their . . . relationship, whatever it was.

'Professor . . .?'

Snape nodded, his eyes still boring into him.

'I'm really sorry. I mean it.'

Snape sighed. 'I know, Potter. You said so before. And I . . . accept your apology. Now, let us proceed.'

'What . . .' Harry bit his lip. He could admit to himself he was nervous about practicing Occlumency with Snape. It had always hurt the last time, like being hit by a bludger in the head, over and over. And the lessons made his scar ache, too, and he did not want to think about anything connected with his scar, ever. No matter that he'd woken from screaming nightmares again last night, trying to claw his forehead off. 'What are we going to do?'

'You are going to place some of your . . . potentially problematic memories in the pensieve before we do anything else.'

'Potentially . . . Oh.' He could feel the blood drain from his face. He would have to think about the memories he wanted to remove, think about them in all their horrific glory. 'I don't know if I can do that.'

'I will be right here with you,' Snape said, in the calm and somehow gentle voice he used when he thought Harry was about to bolt or throw something. That he was usually right did nothing to calm Harry's fears.

'Yeah, but—'

''Yeah' is blacklisted.'

That earned a brief smile. 'Yes, sir,' Harry started again. 'I know you will . . .' and for a moment, he had to pause and let that sink in. Snape would be with him. And he knew that. He didn't have to face the memories alone. The greasy git of a potions master, who'd hated him for as long as he could remember, was going to stand by him through this. The idea was overwhelming, as he came to truly appreciate it for the first time. He drew a deep breath and peered at Snape, brows furrowed.

Snape stared back, his arms crossed over his chest, and lifted one eyebrow.

Harry laughed suddenly. 'You are so gonna have to teach me how to do that.'

''Gonna,' Mister Potter?'

'Sorry. Going to. Teach me, that is. How to do the one eyebrow thing.'

'And why would I do that?' Snape asked with a sneer. 'It benefits me nothing to have young, cheeky imitators running about.'

Harry sniggered under his breath. 'Maybe I'll trade you.'

'I can't imagine you have any personal habits I wish to emulate.'

'Ha. Very ha. I meant maybe I have something else you'd want to trade for.' He shrugged, casually. 'Or maybe not.'

'This discussion is unnecessarily off topic,' Snape snapped. He held out a length of dark wood that looked shiny and new. 'Now. Take this wand and put it to your temple.'

'Your wand?'

'Indeed.'

'Won't it . . . I mean, I thought doing stuff like this could mess you up if you didn't use your own wand.'

Snape huffed in annoyance. 'Only if, as I believe a certain ex-professor learned to his discomfort, the wand in question is malfunctioning. Any wizard can use any wand, Potter. Of course, if you use a wand more attuned to your personal magical core, the results are rather better as a result.' He held out his new wand again. 'Take it.'

With a trembling hand, Harry did, and the warmth that spread through his fingers and then up his arm was like a balm. It had been too long since he held a wand, any wand, and he hadn't realized how much he missed it until now. He let the warmth permeate his being, let it settle in his chest until all he could feel was peace. Tears came unbidden to his eyes, and he blinked them away, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute, till he got his bearings.

Finally feeling centered and in control again, he opened his eyes.

'All right, Potter?'

'You . . . you can call me Harry. If you want.'

Something glinted in the professor's eyes, but was gone almost immediately. 'Very well . . . Harry. Are you ready to begin?'

'Yes, sir.

A longer pause this time, and the professor was stalk still as he said, 'This is likely to be difficult for you, and I would not like to be the cause of your distress. Thus, I ask you, may I put a hand on your arm, to steady you whilst you do this?'