Champagne Problems

Part 13

Back at Hogwarts, the castle's ancient walls seemed to close in around Leo as she navigated its corridors to Snape's dimly lit office for her first formal lesson in Occlumency. The weight of the world rested on her shoulders, her thoughts a tangled mess of fears and strategies.

She knocked softly on the heavy wooden door, her heart pounding not just from the walk but from the anticipation of what was to come. Snape's voice, cold and clear, bade her enter. The room was stark, the only light emanating from a few candles, casting long shadows across the stone walls.

"Have you been practicing the meditation techniques I taught you?" Snape asked, his voice sharp, cutting through the room's chill.

Leo shook her head, frustration evident in her tone. "Useless. I'm a fucking mess right now," she confessed, running a hand through her hair in a gesture of exasperation.

Snape's expression softened slightly, a rare flicker of understanding crossing his features before it was quickly masked by his usual impassiveness. "I can understand," he acknowledged, then straightened, his tone becoming more formal. "Prepare yourself."

He began to detail the process they would undertake. "Legilimency is not merely an invasion but a search for truth. You must learn to shield not just against intrusion but to obscure and protect your core thoughts. Imagine building a fortress around what is most precious, most vulnerable."

Leo nodded, her mind racing as she tried to steady her breathing, attempting to visualize the fortress he described.

"Let's begin," Snape said, and without further warning, his eyes locked onto hers, the familiar sense of his mind pressing against hers initiating.

The first memory he accessed was a recent one—the moment she told Draco she would handle the dark task assigned to him. She could feel Snape's presence there, cold and probing, sifting through her thoughts as if flipping through pages of a book. Leo struggled, trying to push him out, to fortify her mental walls, but Snape was relentless. His skill in Legilimency allowed him to slip past her defenses, pulling at the threads of her memory, exposing her fears and doubts.

As Snape delved deeper, Leo felt a pang of panic. His presence was invasive, ruthless, not because he enjoyed the power but because he knew the necessity of her mastering this skill. The Dark Lord will do far worse, Snape's actions seemed to say. Each memory he accessed, each barrier he broke down, was a lesson in the brutal reality of what she must prepare for.

"Focus, Leo! Do not just push against the intrusion, but redirect it, conceal it," Snape instructed sharply as he sensed her faltering.

She tried again, this time not just pushing against Snape's probing but also trying to misdirect him, to lead his perceptions astray with less critical thoughts, less dangerous memories. It was mentally exhausting, the effort of holding him at bay, of crafting subtle deceptions within her mind.

After what felt like hours, Snape finally withdrew, stepping back with a slight nod of approval. "Better," he said grudgingly. "But not yet sufficient. You will need to be much stronger. He will not be so indirect, nor so forgiving."

Leo slumped in her seat, sweat beading at her brow from the intensity of the mental exertion. "I understand," she managed to say, her voice hoarse.

As Snape watched Leo articulate her convictions, a subtle shift softened the normally rigid contours of his face. There was an unspoken connection between them, a complex mesh of mentorship and hidden affection that occasionally surfaced despite their best efforts to maintain a professional distance.

"Are you truly prepared to take on Dumbledore?" Snape asked, his voice more measured, infused with a hint of concern rather than the cold challenge it might once have carried.