The Princess and the Bloodstone

Occlumency, Part One

To his great surprise, Holly was two minutes early.

She knocked twice, then entered soaking wet, a trail of water dripping from the tip of the broom over her shoulder, a book bag slung over her other arm. He stood still in the darkness, watching her blink and look around his office.

'Shut the door behind you, Miss Potter.' He spoke from the darkness, his voice somewhat hoarse with disuse.

She jumped at the sound, turning quickly to close the heavy door behind her and making hundreds of potions and specimens jars containing many different forms of animals and plants, clink in unison.

When she moved closer, Severus could see her lips were bluish-white, her knee pads' clasps loosened a peg after practice and her close-fitting, sand-coloured flying breeches stained by grass. He noticed a large, muddy handprint on one buttock as she took off her waterlogged Quidditch cloak embroidered with large golden letters on the back. Her wild hair, matted flat to her head by the rain, was looking as neglected as ever. He could see she attempted to fix it up a bit, but there was no taming it without magic.

Holly was a fifth-year now, tall and thin, the top of her head almost reaching his shoulder. Her hand-knitted emerald jumper, with a yellow H on the front, was sitting so tight over her chest, that Severus assumed that she must have gotten it for Christmas the year before the last. He could just imagine boys falling over their feet trying to get her to notice them now.

Lily was fifth year when we . . . separated.

If he had not removed his Worst Memory in preparation for this lesson, Severus would have known why he felt a seemingly random rush of hate for the late James Potter just then.

The hateful glow let annoyance shoot up like a weed in the back of his mind. As always, she sought to remind him constantly of James. He also found himself wondering exactly whose handprint that was, imagining a strutting Gryffindor teen groping at her after Quidditch practice.

He rolled his eyes at himself and exhaled slowly through his nose, folding his arms tightly across his chest as he watched her kick her bag into the corner with the muddiest boots to have ever dared enter the Potion Master's office.

She turned back to face the room, her bright green eyes immediately finding the Pensieve at the far end of the room. Severus moved into the light and pointed silently at the chair opposite his desk.

Holly and Severus both sat down silently. He fixed his eyes unblinkingly upon her.

Holly's face was lit by the candelabra on his desk and she met his gaze briefly as she struggled out of her dragonhide flying gloves. As she removed them, she tipped the water trapped inside onto the dungeon floor like a trickle of gnome piss.

Seeing his brows dropping ever lower in annoyance, Holly flashed Severus the special smile she seemed to reserve just for him – a kind of sheepish grin you would surely give someone you suspected could see your nastiest thoughts as if written on parchment.

She whipped out her wand from her tight, damp trousers and pointed at the pool of water that gathered beneath her chair. ' Evanesco .' She said loudly.

The puddle vanished.

'If you are quite done, Miss Potter.' Severus snapped, he could visualise his patience wearing thinner. She sat up straighter and touched her wand to her brow in a mocking salute.

'This may not be an ordinary class, Miss Potter,' said Severus, his eyes narrowing malevolently, 'but I am still your lecturer and you will, therefore, call me 'sir' or 'Professor' at all times.'