Let Memories Unfold

Chapter 2

With Tuesday the following day, Harry really was working himself into a panic attack every time he thought of the upcoming lesson. On top of that, with the First Task in a few weeks, it felt like he was drowning. With Ron still ignoring his every move, the only time he acknowledged Harry being in the dorm room or in the hallways, and it always being fixed with a sneer or a look of downright hatred. Harry couldn't take much more.

Harry wished Ron would just let him explain, but he couldn't even be near Ron without Seamus or someone else pushing him away, joining Ron in the glaring. It created a tense atmosphere in the dorm, and Dean and Neville were steering completely clear of the rising hatred between the three.

With this cultivating mood vibrating throughout their walls, the first task, and the lessons with Snape the next day, Harry was positively on edge. Every time he thought about anything going on in his life, his heart clenched achingly and his breath quickened. Safe to say, his mental state was declining and his stress levels were ascending.

He was currently in History of Magic, sat next to Hermione who for once, wasn't doing the class set work. She was instead quietly talking with Harry, who wasn't exactly paying attention but was trying his best, over techniques for the first task. If Harry was honest, he was getting tired of it. He only wanted a moment, a day of nothing to do or to worry about.

Alas, Hermione drew his attention back and started rambling on about Stunning charms and the likes. Though when she mentioned something about a Summoning charm, he tuned in a little more. He wasn't allowed anything other than a wand, during the first task, but it didn't mean he couldn't summon things to help him. He and Hermione devised to start practising it when they could, and so she arranged some times to do so. Harry could only feel his schedule becoming heavier, and it weighed on his heart.

Walking to his next class, Herbology, he almost wanted to turn around and go back to his dorm. Sometimes, he could deal with the looks he was given and the glares and shoves sent his way. Sometimes, he couldn't. Sometimes, the way he was treated sent him right back home, if you could call it that. It tortured him, the thoughts of his summers. Being called an attention seek, and a 'fucking freak' hit his head in a way that he couldn't shake off as easily as the other torments.

His head swarming, he made his way to the Greenhouses, but he couldn't focus. He was partnered up with Dean, which was a relief in comparison to his usual painful pairing of Seamus, or Ron. Dean was quite good at Herbology, and sort of took over from Harry who was clearly off in his own head. Harry didn't want to think of what Dean thought of him, probably that he was just being lazy, but he was trapped in his own mind.

Eventually Dean opted to do the practical whilst Harry shakily wrote the theory and process down, noting on any differences or noise changes. Dean kept glancing over at Harry, which he studiously ignored. The class passed in a blur, which gave Harry enough time to come back into reality, and to rush straight to his bed and close the curtains. It was lunch, but he was rarely hungry anymore. His time at the Dursley's taught him that hunger wasn't something to listen to, and even though he had the full option to eat whenever, he often subconsciously didn't. He was brought up on little, he would continue on little. And he would not make the mistake of eating too much at once after a summer of nothing, being hunched over a toilet for half an hour is not something he wants to relive.

Drawing himself from his thoughts for what seems like the 100th time that day, he pulled out his notebook and tried to concentrate on re-writing notes from previous classes he hadn't paid proper attention to. His writing was shakey, and the quill kept ripping up the paper, but Harry was mesmerised. He know he shouldn't be, but watching the quill rip through something so seamlessly, grasped Harry's attention like nothing else.

He wondered....

The dorm rooms door opened though, and Harry put the quill down. His curtains were shut, but he could hear Ron shuffling about so he quietened down, he did not want to draw any attention towards himself. He couldn't take anymore insults at the moment.

*

The afternoon classes followed, but Harry was too worked up. His thoughts were plagued with the next evening. Really, he couldn't remember a thing of his classes and although it worried him, he couldn't find a reason to care.

He was reading desperately through a book on Occlumency, trying to see if there was a way to build up any base defences before having the mind invaded in the first place, but all that was said was that in order to learn Occlumency, Legilimency had to occur first. It was destroying Harry's inside as his stomach churned.

How could he protect his mind? How could he prevent Snape from seeing anything to begin with? He couldn't figure it out.

His thoughts were muddled all over the place, and Harry mused if Snape could see how scattered his brain actually was, then how Snape could ridicule Harry for it. It was a lose-lose situation, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if Snape was revelling in the opportunity to make fun of his least favourite student.

*

Severus was absolutely not looking forward to the next day, the lesson with Potter. He had fought tooth and nail with Albus to see if there was anyone else who could teach Potter Occlumency, even Albus himself. Though of course, he had recited the age old tale of 'for the Greater Good'.

Greater Good, his arse.

There was nothing less he could've wanted than to spend more time than necessary with that arrogant, lazy sod. The Potter boy was nothing but an attention seeking force to be reckoned with, and Severus couldn't understand why he had to help the boy out of a mess that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Severus had wanted, deeply wanted, to believe that Potter's name coming out of the cup was nothing more than a devilish act from the boy himself, until Albus had talked 'sense' into him that he was inclined to believe.

The meeting portraying the need to teach Potter had gone as well as you'd think, with shouting and pleading. Severus wanted nothing to do with the boy more than the measly, failing classes he shared with him. Truly, the boy was abysmal at the subject and he could only hope Potter didn't want to continue the class any further than necessary.

Sighing, and dumping his now cold tea for a glass chilled by charms, he filled it with a slight of Firewhiskey. Taking it back in one, he sat in his chair and leaned back, exhaling the days stress as he did so.

He looked across his desk, scattered with papers and dried ink, some wet ink smearing across onto the dark oak. He ought to clean it up, but it was one of the last things to do on his list.

Refilling his glass with the smooth flick of a wand, he sipped delicately this time sand savoured the burn that drowned his throat. Amongst the classes he had to prepare for the next day, a deep scowl settled on his face when reminded that he also had to prepare for Potter's lessons.

They would be under the guise of Remedial Potions, which would honestly do Potter some good if that were the true reason he was coming to the dungeons on those two fated days.

He set out upon marking the truly horribly written second year essays, and pushed anything about the next day to the far corners of his mind. Ironically enough, he simply Occluded it away to focus on the current matter of essays to mark.

If the world were to end this eve, Severus wouldn't be inclined to complain.