Wondering what the boy could see in the mirror besides his dead family gathered around him, Severus shook his head. "No, Harry. There is no way to bring back the dead. Not even with magic."
The boy's face fell, and Severus took a step closer to him, not sure what he could do, but feeling like he should try to ease the boy's pain somehow. But all he could say was, "Professor Dumbledore will move the mirror tomorrow, and he asks that you do not try and seek it out again."
"The Headmaster?" Harry looked up at him, green eyes shining. "What does he care?"
"He cares for all the students here," Severus replied, even though he was not completely sure of the truth of the statement, given how shabbily his snakes were often treated, in comparison to his favored Gryffindors. "But more importantly, I care, Harry, and I do not want you to waste your life chasing after dreams. As I was told, when I found the mirror, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."
He waited until the boy nodded slowly and gathered up his cloak before speaking again. "I shall expect you to stay after Occlumency tonight, to discuss this with me some more. But for now, you'd best go and work on your holiday essays, hm?"
Without meeting Severus' eyes, the boy shook his head. "I've finished those, sir."
"Then perhaps you'd like to come and have a game of chess."
The boy gave a tiny shrug, then said, "All right. Thank you, sir."
"Come along, Harry." He gestured to the door and followed the boy out.
Later that evening, as Severus had assumed he would, Harry said, "Sir, may I ask you a question?"
"You just did," he pointed out. "But you may ask another."
Harry gave him a lopsided smile, the first Severus had seen in days. "Can I ask, what do you, er, I mean, what did you see in the mirror?"
Severus graced him with a small smile of his own, even as he looked away and took a long sip of the glass of wine he often enjoyed on winter evenings. He did not want to answer. Nor did he want to lie. In the end, he said, "Can you not guess?" and was gratified when the boy nodded, blushing slightly. Even if Harry could never know the whole truth, he could probably guess a portion of it.
--HPSSHPSSHPSSHPSS--
After the holidays, Severus' schedule was once more filled with preparation for his classes and teaching during the days, then correcting assignments and exams and holding frequent detentions for Gryffindors -- especially Weasleys -- at night. Whenever possible, he squeezed in extra hours with his five Seventh Year NEWT students to prepare them for their upcoming exams. He still met with Harry two nights a week for Occlumency lessons, and once a week or so for chess, but all of their meetings were after Slytherin Quidditch practices, as Marcus had the team out on the pitch almost every evening.
The weather had turned rainy, wet and cold. Fortunately, wizarding children were less likely to take sick than their Muggle counterparts, and thus Madame Pomfrey required no more Pepper-up Potions than usual, even when various Quidditch teams re-entered the castle from practice looking more like drowned kneazles than school children. If not for Filch's determined whinging about the state of the Entry Hall, Severus might have found the sight tremendously amusing . . . bollocks to that; he did find the sight amusing. Not that any of the little brats would ever know; Severus always made sure of his sneer before they saw him.
He noticed, however, during their various meetings, that Harry seemed quieter than he had been before the boy went up against the Mirror of Erised. Occasionally, he appeared embarrassed. Severus brought up the issue once or twice, but Harry refused outright to say what was bothering him, and Severus refused to abuse his trust by discerning the truth during their Occlumency lessons.
Still, they were not as comfortable together as they had been at the beginning of the holidays, and Severus, for one, felt the loss keenly.
He refused to consider why.
A few weeks after Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff in their late-February Quidditch match, Severus insisted on refereeing the upcoming bout between Slytherin and Hufflepuff, over Minerva's objections of favoritism.
"Favoritism!" he shouted, incensed as much as he had ever been before at the insinuation. They stood nose to nose in Dumbledore's office. "This has nothing to do with Slytherin's chances! If you believe you can protect the boy in the air better than I, then do so!"
McGonagall drew herself up. "I'm not much of a flier anymore, Severus. You know that."
"Of course," he agreed. "That's why it is left to me to make sure no one tries to kill him this time."
"I'm sure you're over-reacting--" the elderly professor started.
"I had to chant counter curses for a quarter hour during his last game," he said stiffly, "without pause. You saw what his broom was doing. He was lucky he didn't get bucked off. If I had been in the air, I could have aided him far better."
Minerva glared daggers, arms crossed over her chest. You'd think he was trying to steal the Quidditch Cup from her! It wasn't as if Gryffindor had a chance of it anymore, not without Charlie Weasley. Finally, she gave a sharp nod. "If Pomona agrees, then I'll go along. But I still think Rolanda should be present as well."
"Agreed," Severus said, glad to be done with this argument. He disliked, intensely, needing to raise his voice whilst in Dumbledore's presence. He had done so perhaps a handful of times over the last dozen years. Almost every time, he realized with a start, it was to do with one Potter or another.
"Agreed," McGonagall echoed. She strode out of the office, her head high, likely on her way to make her case against him with Pomona Sprout.
"How are you faring, my boy?"
Severus turned from where he had been watching the Gryffindor head retreat, and faced the Headmaster. "I am well, Albus. Thank you."
The man smiled into his beard. "Good, good. I was . . . concerned, a short while ago, that you were in over your head, with regard to Harry Potter."
"Over my head?"
Dumbledore nodded, gesturing lightly with his left hand. "He is an engaging child, to be sure. I admit as much. But when you were troubled about teaching him Occlumency, when we needed to keep Voldemort from his mind, I thought perhaps you had become too close to him. Too close to do what was needful."
Severus carefully kept the scowl that wanted to surface from his expression. "I do not follow," he said, although he was almost certain he did.
"Harry Potter is not just a student at this school, Severus," Albus said slowly, as if speaking to a rather stupid child. It was a tone he tended to reserve for special occasions, and Severus detested it, and every occasion on which it had been used. "He is also the one prophesied to defeat Voldemort forever."
"He is a child, Albus."
"He is the Boy Who Lived. He will require even more training if he is to survive into adulthood."
"I see."
Dumbledore smiled again. "I am sure you do, my boy. As his Head of House, and one of my most trusted, you will be in charge of much of his training. He will need to be challenged as only you can do."
Severus pursed his lips. "Do recall, Albus, what I requested the last time you pressed me into training the boy. Occlumency is not like Charms. I cannot force talent in the art. In the weeks I have worked with him, I have done little more than help him block his dreaming mind, as he is not ready for more. But if I am to train him further as you wish, I will want full custody of the boy during the summer holidays, as well as unfettered access to him during the school year."
"Agreed. He will be yours."
A surge of feeling rose up in Severus' chest. He could hardly wait to tell the boy that he need not return to his relatives--
"After a minimum of fourteen days in the custody of his aunt and uncle, of course."
Severus stared at the barmy old coot. "I beg your pardon?"
"Harry must return to their home for two weeks each summer, to renew the blood wards against Voldemort and his Death Eaters." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, as if he could hear Severus' heart plummet. "At least while he is a student here, the boy must always have that place of safety to retreat to if necessary. The only place he will be completely safe is at the Dursleys' residence."