If Monday had been a pleasant surprise, then Tuesday was a particularly disagreeable reality check. Harry couldn't seem to concentrate during Charms and Transfiguration lessons in the morning, his mind wandering to the previous days' events and mostly down into his pants. He was taken to task so many times he'd practically forgot why he'd ever thought he liked Snape, and by lunchtime he was heartily glad that he had a Snape-free afternoon to look forward to.

The kitchen table was set for two when Harry came down, though Snape was nowhere to be found. He sat heavily, serving himself from the platters the house elves had laid out, containing more food than he and Snape could probably eat in a week. He was just biting into a piece of steak and kidney pie when Snape walked through the door, looking, if anything, even more unpleasant than he had during lessons. "It seems," said Snape, sitting heavily and giving Harry's half-open mouth a look of disgust, "that a number of your champions are concerned that I'm planning to spend the summer abusing you."

Harry's eyes went wide at that, and he quickly chewed and swallowed, mouth gone suddenly dry. "Nothing's happened, has it?" he asked, visions of Ron using his newfound height advantage to try and bully Snape, or Remus or even Kingsley offering to stay the summer and give Harry a bit of unwanted 'protection'.

"Just a few impertinent owls," said Snape disgustedly, serving himself from the dishes available and putting a small pile of greens on Harry's plate as well.

Harry made a face, but acknowledged that he probably ought to have them, considering what his diet had been like for his last few weeks at the Dursleys'. "Sorry," he said, blushing at the inadequacy of it. Snape had gone out of his way to make Harry at home here, to give Harry comfort when he needed it and, if Harry were honest with himself, discipline when he needed it as well, though perhaps a bit more of the latter than was strictly necessary. It wasn't fair that Snape was now taking flak for giving up his own summer for Harry, though Snape did rather ask for it by being so prickly around the other Order members.

It was, of course, this thought that must have shown on his face, because Snape made a disgusted little sound and said, "I'm sure I can cope as I always have."

"Will, um," Harry paused and took a soothing sip of pumpkin juice, "will you get a lot of people bothering you once we're, er, together?"

That seemed to shock Snape out of his foul mood, as he looked up at Harry with something like amazement. "I expect that, should you still want me after this fiasco, we shall deal with them together." Snape ate a bite of greens and added quietly, "Don't forget, we've yet to have your Occlumency lesson tonight. You may give up on me completely after that."

Harry shrugged; it was true he wasn't exactly looking forward to the lesson, but he thought he might enjoy having Snape see what Harry looked like when wanking with Snape's name on his lips. "If the previous six years didn't do it," said Harry, "then I doubt you'll manage to scare me off with one day of lessons."

Snape snorted, but that seemed to have been the right thing to say, because he began to eat with much more enthusiasm. Harry copied him, and the silence stretched between them comfortably, until Snape set down his fork with a quiet finality and said, "I shall be spending the afternoon helping the elves with the old Potions laboratory. Moody and Shacklebolt should be along in a few days to assist me with the more difficult tasks, and I suggest you stay well away until the room has been sterilised and re-warded."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, still working away on his own lunch, shovelling food in as quick as he could get it down. He couldn't go flying, but he thought he might lock himself in his room and have the sort of wank that Snape would blush to find in his mind.

"You might consider revising," said Snape, with a tone that said he had a pretty good idea of Harry's plans.

"Maybe after," said Harry around a mouthful of greens. He swallowed, wondering when he'd allowed Ron to influence his table manners, and forced himself to slow down and have another long drink of juice.

"Indeed," said Snape. He drained his goblet and stood, leaving his dishes where they were. When Harry gave him an odd look, Snape added wryly, "The elves have expressed displeasure with me for attempting to clean up after myself."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Harry, trying very hard not to laugh at the image of Snape being scolded by an obsequious house elf. Fortunately for him, Snape chose the dignified route and exited just before the first giggle escaped. He was still laughing when Dobby popped in to ask him if he would need any assistance with his afternoon activities, which only made him laugh harder.

Maybe the day wasn't going to be so bad after all.

---

Annoyingly, Dobby chose to spend the afternoon cleaning and straightening upstairs while the other two house elves assisted Snape in the cellar, which drove Harry to the library to escape Dobby's incessant good cheer. He ended up curling up in a corner with a book on Occlumency and one of his Snape-mandated notebooks, taking notes that he suspected wouldn't make much sense, come tomorrow. Still, he got a few things out of it, and wondered if Snape would be any more forthcoming with actual advice now that they were... whatever they were.

Eventually, he managed to get absorbed enough in the book that he nearly missed tea, having to be roused by an overexcited house elf who'd been afraid that 'Master Harry Potter' had gone out without permission. Harry trudged downstairs to find Snape questioning Dobby closely. "You can let him go, I was just in the library," said Harry, sitting down with a head and neck ache that felt as though his brain had too much in it and was weighing heavily on his shoulders.

The look of disdain Snape gave him was just par for the course of the day, and he sat down silently, disconsolately, with obscurely-worded explanations of walls and barriers and clarity jumbling themselves around in his head a bit like white noise. There was little conversation as they ate, though of course the dreaded lesson would come soon after, and really that seemed like communication enough for Harry, for today.

When they finally went upstairs to the same grey room they'd used for Defence, Transfiguration and Charms, it was just as bad as Harry had been fearing. One whispered Legilimens, and Harry was buried in memories he didn't want to relive, of Cedric in the graveyard and Dudley with the Dementors in the alleyway, of his cupboard and his lonely spot in the cafeteria as a child. It was as if the mood of the day had directed Snape to his very worst moments, from being caught wanking by his Aunt and punished by making him take only cold showers for a month, to the very wet and unsatisfying kisses he'd shared with Cho before he'd known that girls were not, in fact, his thing at all.

The very worst part of all was not that he ended up on hands and knees in the classroom. Even with no chance whatsoever that Snape might take advantage of the position, the worst part was the pity he saw flash through Snape's eyes before they shuttered to their usual instructive coldness. "Right," said Harry, sitting up and silently telling his head it could stop spinning any time now really. "Right. So I'm obviously doing it all wrong, and I spent the whole afternoon reading and although I've got lots of things like 'clarity of will' and 'walls of the mind' stuffed into my brain, I've got no idea how to actually do Occlumency. And since you have generally stopped being so, er. Will you try to explain to me what I'm doing wrong?"

Any traces of pity were washed away in exasperation and disgust. "I have been explaining this to you for two years, Potter. I would expect even you could have got it at least marginally straight in that time."

"No you haven't," said Harry, recklessly. "You attack me, and yell at me, but you never explain anything!" He was flushed, panting, frustrated nearly to the point of rage with his inability to master this stupid art, all because nothing Snape said about it ever made any sense to him.

Snape looked just as furious as Harry expected him to, eyes glittering dangerously as he stalked over to Harry in measured paces, like a predator moving in for the kill. "And just what is it you wish me to explain, then? I tell you to try to keep your mind clear, and yet you always come to me jumbled and unfocused. I tell you to try to resist me, and sometimes you do, but sometimes, like today, you just buckle under, give up, and then whinge to me after that I'm not fair to you. Life isn't fair, boy, and I can't explain it any better than I already have. Clear your mind. Learn to recognize your own thought patterns, and shove out anything alien. Learn to keep your secrets buried instead of bubbling on the surface, to think about something other than the thing you least want me to see."

Harry forced himself to really listen to Snape's words and try to fit them into the context of his experiences thus far. "So, I use thoughts I don't care if you see as, what, some kind of barrier between you and the stuff I really want to keep secret?"

Snape sat back and blinked. "Yes, Potter, though a more advanced Occlumens uses nothingness as his barrier, blankness."

"Right, but I'm not advanced for shi- er, much at all, so let me try this. I'll pick something I know I don't want you to see, and shove something at you I do want you to see in its place. Or, er, I'll try, anyway." Harry wasn't quite sure he had the way of it, but it would at least be more fruitful than gasping on the floor without a proper shagging to make the ignominious position worthwhile.

"All right, Mr. Potter," said Snape, one eyebrow raised in challenge. "Let us see if we have finally managed to break through that thick skull and build something useful inside. Legilimens."

Rather than mindlessly resisting, Harry found the memory of himself tossing off in the bubble bath, surrounded by the scent of crisp apples and buried in thoughts of Snape with the twins, imagining what they might be doing, what they might do with him. He slipped the rest, all those dark things brought forth by the mood of the day, behind the image of him wanking, using it like a shield.

There were a few long moments where he felt Snape pushing at the edges of the memory as if trying to find a way out, to see what was hidden beyond it, but Harry held fast, feeling his prick grow hard in his trousers as the memory progressed. Just as the Harry in his mind came in a cascade of white droplets and popping bubbles, Snape released him.

"Only you would use wank memories to hide your dark secrets," said Snape, shaking his head, something like a smile ghosting around his lips. "I would doubt your ability go about with such thoughts in your head at all times, but you are sixteen and no doubt the Dark Lord is already bored with visions of your adolescent fantasies."

Harry couldn't help it, after everything else today he broke down laughing at the idea of Voldemort rummaging through his head and encountering wank fantasies at every turn. "I hope he likes Oliver Wood!" said Harry, remembering how often he'd thought of the former Quidditch Captain during those last months of his fifth year, when it became obvious that Cho's crying wasn't the only thing wrong with her as far as he was concerned.

Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry and said, "Is this a recent development, or..."

Harry didn't even let him finish. "Fifth year, when Voldemort spent all that time rummaging about in my head. Though as I said once before, the twins do guest star an awful lot."

"Good," said Snape, with a finality that made Harry's heart leap and then do a little jig of joy in his chest at the idea that Snape might, briefly, have been jealous of Oliver Wood, just because Harry used to wank over him.

After that, the rest of the day didn't seem so bad, and Harry made absolutely sure to spend his evening bath making a new memory to shove at Snape for Thursday's lesson.

A Question of Etiquette XIII: Prurience, Practice & Patience