"Her?"
"Speculation."
"I think she's just hungry," Harry decided, accepting the speculation as fact. Might as well; he'd never really liked referring to Sals as an it.
"Hmm," Snape returned, watching until the snake vanished. "There's just one more thing you need to master in Occlumency. We'll start it tomorrow: you must learn to push me out of your mind."
"All that effort to control what you see," Harry weakly laughed, "and now you want me not to let you see it?"
"From a wizard of your calibre, the Dark Lord will expect resistance; you must be able to push out at him, and do it in a way that doesn't rend the false fabric of thoughts you've woven atop your image."
Harry stared, a little bit confused. "Last year you started with that. Push me out, Potter . . . if I heard you yell it once, I heard it a thousand times."
Snape's teacup clattered to his saucer as he scowled. "I have said to let the past be past! What part of that concept is not soaking through your skull to reach the dubious grey matter beneath?"
"I just wondered why Occlumency was so one-dimensional last year," Harry defended himself.
Relaxing a fraction, Snape admitted, "Last year, the primary goal was to help you block your dreams. Albus' notion, though a sound one since the Dark Lord was actively manipulating you through them."
"And now?"
Snape's expression hardened, reminding Harry that he didn't tolerate fools. "You know the answer to that."
"Yeah," Harry slowly agreed, realizing as he spoke that he did. "You're trying to make sure I'm ready, not just for dreams, but for the next time I have to face down that ugly bastard."
"Another encounter does seem inevitable." Snape looked down at his hands, and then at Harry. "I wish that I could spare you."
Harry shivered, one word sparking an unwelcome memory. Kill the spare . . . Shaking his head, he submerged himself briefly in mental fire. It wasn't stoicism, but strangely enough, it did help.
All at once, an awful look crossed Snape's face, like agony wrapped in horror but coated in resignation. No . . . resolution. The man had his right hand pressed to his left forearm as he stood and stumbled toward the Floo.
"Shite!" Harry yelped, understanding coming all at once.
"Go to Lupin," Snape bit out, the words wheezing through clenched teeth. "Stay with him tonight. Do not leave this house for a single instant, do you understand me?"
"Yes!" Harry shouted over the sound of Severus screaming out the code words that would take him back to his dungeon quarters. From there, Harry supposed, he would don his horrid robe and mask, then Floo to someplace else . . . someplace from which he could Apparate towards Voldemort's call.
"I wish that I could spare you, too," he said, talking to the thin air.
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Remus made it his practice to retire upstairs and leave Snape and Harry strictly alone during the Occlumency sessions. It was a small courtesy, but one Harry had come to appreciate. He felt a little bad, actually, that he'd believed Remus had no sense of decorum.
He knocked on Remus' door and was bid at once to enter.
"Snape's gone. Dark Mark," Harry bleakly explained, shaking a little as he remembered the awful look on his teacher's face.
"Oh, Harry!" Remus crossed the room in two strides and enveloped him in a comforting hug. "I've seen it happen during Order meetings. Not a pretty sight."
"No," Harry agreed, voice muffled against Remus' soft flannel shirt . . . oh, pyjama top, he was slow to realise. "Um, were you asleep?"
"Just reading a bit." He gestured toward his rumpled covers, and Harry saw a book entitled Finding your Inner Wolf: A Guide for the Alpha Wizard. "Severus' idea of a joke, I'm afraid."
"But Snape hates you," Harry stated, feeling the leading edge of a headache coming on.
"He's good at making me think so," Remus laughed. "But every so often he slips up. I don't know; perhaps he intended the book as an insult. With Severus, it's difficult to be sure."
"He always calls you Lupin, never Remus. Like he used to always call me Potter, back when he hated me."
"I'm glad you know he doesn't hate you, now," Remus quietly commented.
"Yeah, well I wish he didn't hate you, either. It's kind of awful, when people I ---" People I care about, he had been going to say. He decided he wasn't ready to admit to that about Snape. At least, not out loud. "When people I have to hang around with can't stand each other."
When Remus smiled, Harry knew the man had heard what hadn't been said. "Perhaps you'll feel better, Harry, to realise that Severus has never stopped supplying me with Wolfsbane Potion. That's right; not three weeks after losing me my job at Hogwarts, he was owling me a supply. And every month since, right as clockwork."
Harry rubbed his temples a bit, but it didn't help his aching head. Funny, when Snape had done it that once, the massage had released all his tension.
"Here," Remus said, and took over, his own massage more than competent, although nowhere near as skilled as Snape's had been. "You're worried about him."
"Yeah, well if you could have seen him when the Mark started to burn, you would be, too."
"I've seen, I know," Remus repeated. "You know what's odd about the potion he makes for me, though? Severus won't accept thanks. He would get positively hostile when I used to try."
"You're trying to get my mind off what's probably happening right now," Harry muttered, stepping away from Remus' caring fingers. "What if the Death Eaters are on one of their rampages? Killing Muggles, Muggleborns? I feel ill, Remus. Snape does those things too, doesn't he? I mean, he'd have to, if he's going to keep up appearances so he can spy for the Order."
"I should have spoken with you earlier today, prepared you," Remus murmured.
"What? How could you know he'd be called tonight?"
Remus gave him a long, strange look and said, "Well, Harry, it is Halloween."
Harry started. "I'd lost track," he realised.
"You've had a great deal to occupy you," Remus sympathized. "Why don't we go downstairs and have some cocoa? It might help soothe your nerves so you can sleep."
All at once, Harry was absolutely, positively sure of one thing. "You're barking mad," he calmly declared. "No offence, all right? But how can you think I would sleep? I'm not going to, not until Snape gets himself back here, and probably not even then."
"What are you going to do, then?"
"Stay with you," Harry answered. "He said to. I'll be right back."
He returned a moment later carrying a pillow and a pile of blankets, then settled down on the floor and made himself a nest of sorts. Remus stared like Harry was the one gone barking mad, but Harry ignored that. He figured he was in for a long night and he might as well be comfortable.
"If you want to stay with me," Remus offered, "there's no need to lie on the floor. The bed is easily big enough for both of us."
Harry was sure it was, but he was also sure he didn't want to be treated like a child. If he went over there, Remus would fuss over him, probably offer cocoa again, or milk and cookies, or something. Harry didn't think he could take it.
"Nah," he refused. "I'm ok, here."
Remus didn't push the offer, for which Harry was grateful. It came to him again that he shouldn't have been rude to Remus, all those times. Remus really cared about him. He just didn't always know what Harry needed. The magic lessons were a case in point. Thinking happy thoughts was not going to yield his Patronus, not until whatever else was going on was resolved. But what was going on? By then, Harry rather doubted he could blame his missing marrow. They'd claimed at Frimley Park that his marrow would restore itself in about ten days. It had been that long, nearly. Of course, maybe wizards were different, as Snape had said. And it was true that not all his magic was gone, but still . . . Harry was starting to feel discouraged.