The Mark of a Death Eater

Occlumency

Occlumency:

"Occlumency?"
Snape and I stood the next day, facing each other in the garden shed. It was surprisingly warm and spacious.
"Yes, occlumency. Unless you can't do it, of course." Pause. "Can you do it?"
"Of course I can," Snape said shortly. "I happen to be a skilled Occlumens and Legilimens. I am, however, curious as to why you want to do it."

I sucked in a breath. Last night, after the meeting, Bellatrix Lestrange had cornered Draco and I. She was very threatening, but had also offered me a bonus I hadn't foreseen. Occlumency lessons.
As it turned out, allowing Snape to find out Draco's plan of killing Professor Dumbledore was a major sin to her. She wouldn't give me even the slightest opportunity to accidentally inform Snape of the plan.

Draco had learned occlumency in no time at all. I was a little upset to know that Draco knew a skill I didn't. And according to Mrs Lestrange, since apparently fear was the best motivation, she was convinced I could do it too.
We had practiced the entire night, and my brain felt like it had been turned into mush. The only thing occlumency seemed to have achieve was allowing Bellatrix to witness my most embarrassing moments. Like that could lower her standards for me any more than it was low already.

Early this morning, Narcissa Malfoy had given me a simple task. To do Occlumens with Professor Snape. It had confused me that she wanted this, since it was what Bellatrix Lestrange had forbidden, and I was downright scared of her.
I was going to ignore Narcissa, but I thought of her helpfulness, and how she'd interceded for me, and I couldn't.
I was to practice with Snape, yet somehow not allow him to see the vanishing cabinet at all. Even if he did, I'd convinced myself, he wouldn't think anything of it. I was there the night Draco found Montague, squashed in a toilet after being shoved into the cabinet, after all.
If he did find out, I had no doubt that Bellatrix would kill me for messing up her nephews' intentions.
I sighed. "Draco knows occlumency. I don't. I don't like being behind."
Snape raised his black eyebrows skeptically. It was a lame excuse.
"Also, it helps as a defense against Veritaserum, doesn't it? That's useful in case one of the teachers decides to question me." That wasn't untrue.

He circled me warily.
"Have you practiced before?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered. "I've been practicing with Draco, and on my own." Not completely untrue. I've had a perverse obsession with occlumency last year.
"And with Bellatrix Lestrange," he accused.
I didn't answer.

He stopped circling me and faced me, eyeing me warily. 
"Why do you think you will be able to do Occlumecy?" he asked.
I hadn't foreseen that question.
"What makes you think that you will be better at it than say," he thought for a moment, "Hermione Granger."
I felt like I'd been slapped. This wasn't the first time he'd compared me to her. But oddly, I wasn't insulted. Last nights meeting had lowered my opinion of myself. It had humbled me.

I swallowed hard before I answered.
"I have been practicing with Bellatrix," I confided. "She thinks I'll be able to do it faster than others."
"Why is that?" Snape asked, his expression unreadable.
"I've thought about it," I admitted. "And I think it's because, well, I'm someone who is very capable of compartmentalizing my life and my emotions. I've always done this. I make friends but I don't get too easily attached to them. I... I didn't take my becoming a Death Eater very well at first, but I think I've handled it well since. And I know I haven't been suppressing my compassion too well, but I've been trying. I'm trying to suppress all my goodness. How else am I going to become a death eater? And I think this is going to help me with that."
I realized my voice had become soft at the end. I was giving away something about myself. This was something I never often did with my friends, even, least of all someone I barely knew.

It struck me, just then, that I'd come to almost trust Professor Snape.

He must've seen the change in my expression, because he drew out his wand, and moved back into a stance I can only describe as a fighting one.

"Do you need explanations?" he asked.
My hand twitched towards my wand. "Just practical," I answered.

I took a breath to prepare myself, but suddenly, without warning, memories flashed before my eyes.

Me, leaning on my tiptoes to kiss Zayn's cheek.
Rigel, singing loudly as he hung multicolored balls of glass on a tree.
Slitted, snakelike pupils, dilating frighteningly in the room of the meeting.
A flash of silver silk; the dress I wore to the Yule Ball.
Screams of pain from my family, as they were tortured in my nightmares.

I gasped for air, kneeling on the floor.
"You... I wasn't ready," I breathed.
The room swam in and out of focus.
"You think the person trying to find out information is going to allow you time to clear your mind? The world does not give you time! The best but most challenging way to learn... Legillimens!"

Again, abruptly, I was thrown into the deep end, and memories surfaced.

The sorting hat, debating on whether my heart was good enough to be sorted into Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin.
Astoria and Daphne, arms locked, spinning around the common room.
My mothers face. Horrified and filled with disappointment as she saw my green hair for the first time.
Myself, screaming at the empty walls of my home, throwing furniture hopelessly in the dark.

"No, stop." The memories ceased.
I held a hand over my chest, forcing air back into my lungs. I was looking at the floor, on my hands and knees.
"Wait," I commanded, my voice hoarse. "I need time."
"There isn't anyone willing to give time in real life," he replied.
"That's unfair," I said, breathing hard.
"The world is unfair."

I glanced up, to see if his face had any compassion. Only to see his lips moving in a silent spell... No.
"Protego!" I cried out.
Professor Snape was a skilled Legilimens, but my shield charms are a thing of beauty.

Memories filled my head, but they weren't my own.
A skinny, dark haired boy pushing himself lonelily on a swing.
A girl with straight red hair, laughing in delight, her green eyes crinkled.
An older Snape, walking fast to keep up with the now angry red head girl. "Lily," he started.
Professor Snape, laying on the floor in anguish. The pain on his face was profound.
A leaping silver doe, bounding forward until it reached a stag and nuzzled it. A patronus.
A man that looked uncannily familiar, reaching out to clasp hands with the girl.

"Enough!" a voice bellowed. There was a flash of orange light and I was thrown backwards, hard. My body hit the wall of the shed, and several glass bottles fell of the shelves.

I gasped in pain and shock.
My eyes focused. It became clear to me what had happened. Professor Snape had thrown me backwards with a spell. I raised my head to see him kneeling on the floor, something between anger and pain on his face.
As I watched, he stood up, and without turning back, he strode out of the door.