Walk the Shadows

necessary.'

'Did you think he would, sir? Oppose it, I mean?'

Severus heaved a sigh. 'I had my doubts.' He decided not to say anything about the dependence issue, nor how the Headmaster had shown himself to be concerned more with The Chosen One's ability to thwart his enemies than with Harry's recovery from trauma. He knew Harry's dependence was the case, and they would deal with the ramifications of that later. 'But I convinced him it was in your best interests.'

'You did?' A ghost of a smile crossed the boy's lips. 'What did you say?'

'It's not important,' Severus said, wearily waving his hand in dismissal, though he gave a significant glance toward the journal. 'Now, I have paperwork to fill out and send to the Ministry on our behalf. But I imagine you are ready for some flying time, yes? Would you rather go now, or when I finish the paperwork?'

Harry spent a good minute chewing his lip and going over his options, until Severus was ready to make the decision for him ten times over. But he waited, as patiently as he could -- offering control of small things when possible would help Harry feel more in control of larger things later -- until finally he got an answer. 'Paperwork first, sir. Please.'

'Very well. I trust you can keep yourself occupied until then.'

'Yes, sir. May I borrow one of your books?'

Severus' eyes narrowed. Since he kept truly Dark texts under lock and key, he didn't have many books on display that he would consider out of bounds for an almost sixth year student, but there were a few, and Potter had probably found one of those. 'Which one?'

'Oh, ummmm,' Harry rose and went to a bookshelf and selected a rather thick tome with a green leather cover, embossed in gold. 'This one. It's Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts . I've read it before . . .' He swallowed hard, suddenly, and looked away.

Nonplussed by the sudden change, Severus took a step toward the boy. 'Harry?'

'It's just . . . Sirius gave me this book, for Christmas last year. It came in handy with, you know, DA and everything.' He sucked in a breath. 'I suppose it's gone now.'

'Gone . . .'

'Yea -- yes, sir. It was in my trunk, with all my other school stuff.' He looked over at Severus, hope giving his eyes an odd gleam. 'Maybe it's still at the Dursleys?'

Though he hated doing it, he had to shake his head. 'I'm afraid not, Harry. The Death Eaters went on a follow up to your aunt and uncle's home, and took everything they thought belonged to you. Hoping it would be of some use to them, I expect.'

'Oh.' Harry nodded a little and squared his shoulders, a bleakness settling in his expression that Severus wished he could erase. How many people, in their whole lives, lost everything they owned all at once? He resolved to work on Harry taking a trip to Diagon Alley soon. 'Well, okay then,' Harry said, and his face was a blank mask. 'Can I borrow this one?'

'Have you finished the mind focusing book?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Then yes, you may.'

'Thank you, sir.'

Severus watched him for a few minutes more, while Harry curled himself into a ball on the settee and opened the book to the index before paging through it, and marveled at the boy's resilience. As he'd told Dumbledore, he was frankly amazed Harry had made so much progress from the week of catatonia, and then to the possession Riddle had of his mind. He had barely dissociated at all in the last few days, and only had a couple of panic attacks.

After lunch, they would work on Occlumency, and he would see if Harry really had read -- and more importantly, if he had absorbed -- the book or not.

XOXOXOXOXOXXOXO

Severus gritted his teeth and shoved at the blank wall inside Harry's head. It was like stone, but impossibly pitted. Above the stone were trivial matters such as what he'd had for breakfast and a concern that he might need more potion supplies before classes commenced, and almost nothing else. Where were the thoughts about flying, or the memories of the discussion from just before lunch? Was he truly Occluding that well that he could direct Severus' prying that much? Was this slab of stone working so perfectly for him? It seemed impossible.

Working along the edges of the gray surface, he distracted Harry's conscious mind by focusing a small, separate part of his Legilimency on seeking memories above that near-blank slate. It worked; Harry was too occupied with that he didn't notice the slyer, slipperier portion of Severus' skill digging at the shadows. The edges of the stone were worn smooth, unlike the rest of the scarred and pitted stone, and it was here that he focused his efforts. He eased his mind through a small fissure near the edge, slower than Harry would notice, more carefully than walking through a field covered with erumpent parts.

Breaking through at last, he had just caught a glimpse of a maelstrom, dark and explosive and churning like the fires of hell under the stone when he was ejected forcibly from Harry's mind.

'No,' Harry gasped, bending over at the waist, even as Severus collected his own breath and tried to figure out what the HELL he'd just witnessed. That couldn't be . . . not all the torment and rage and fears hidden like that . . . Impossible.

The boy's eyes were squeezed shut and thin tremors ran through his body. But his voice was clear as he said, 'No. You're not allowed in there.'

TBC . . .

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

A/N: Yeah, it's a bit of a cliffie, but that's why you love me, right:-) There's been a request for the expression of other than food-love as a comparative, so as to not leave readers feeling hungry at the end