Harry raised a hand to his scar. "You think this is still a conduit, even with me a . . . a . . . squib?"
"You are not a squib," Snape at once contested. "You have been injured, but you will recover." He paused, but Harry said nothing. "As for your scar, I have no reason to believe that the Dark Lord has been tapping your magic when he sends you dreams, which is why you must learn at all costs to shield your mind."
"But how can I do that, without any magic of my own?"
Snape looked surprised. "To discipline your mind does not strictly require sorcery, Harry, though of course it helps. At any rate, I expect your magic will begin to re-emerge as you work with Lupin throughout the length of each day."
"So Occlumency," Harry murmured, nodding. "Right. If Voldemort looks into my mind, and sees my powers gone, I'll be in deep shite."
"Exactly."
"But Dumbledore said he should have taught it to me, himself," Harry remembered. Not that he wanted to work with Dumbledore, but he supposed the headmaster might insist. "Wouldn't that still hold true?"
"Professor Dumbledore, Harry," Remus chided.
Snape raised his chin a bit. "Have you objection to my teaching you? Should that be the case, I will certainly express as much to Albus." He paused, and looked away. "I know this morning has not been easy, but I thought we had got beyond that, Harry."
"We have," Harry murmured, sort of embarrassed to have to admit to that in front of Remus. "It's just . . ." He didn't know how to say it; it wasn't like he wanted to snipe, or score points off Snape. He didn't even want to hurt his feelings, assuming he could, that was. But this was too important to just ignore, so he plunged ahead. "Are you going to teach me, this time? Last year, all you did was yell and threaten. Oh yeah, and attack until I could hardly see straight."
Remus chuckled slightly. "Rather like old Trutt in Charms, Severus. Remember? Of course you were a quick study, but I do recall that even you occasionally found his style . . . irksome."
"I do not instruct like Trutt," Snape breathed, clearly appalled. "That man was worthless."
Harry didn't know about any Trutt, but he did know what he thought of Snape's own teaching style. "You just kept insisting Occlude your mind, Potter, over and over. You are letting me win, you are handing me weapons!" he mimicked. "But you never once told me how not to!"
"I told you to clear your mind each night before you slept, you ungrateful little twit!"
"Yeah, and I didn't even try," Harry admitted, not wanting to think about why he hadn't bothered. "Okay, so back to blame: we're both at fault and I know it. I'll do better, I swear. I'll do my part this time; I do understand what I stand to lose, what we all stand to lose, if Voldemort gets a good look inside me, now."
"Severus?" Remus prompted, as if he thought that Harry's offer had been more than fair.
Snape huffed a bit. "I will endeavour to explain matters better, and help you practice."
"There, see how easy that was?" Harry lightly taunted. "Say, can I write to my friends while I'm here?"
Snape's tapered fingers pushed long strands of black hair back from his scalp. "Yes, but be careful what you write. Do not owl your letters, though. I will take them when I come, and post them from Hogwarts' own owlery."
Harry thought that a bit paranoid, but supposed that if anyone was watching, it wouldn't do to have owls coming or going from Grimmauld Place.
"You just can't leave my post alone, can you?" he quipped.
A slow smile crept across Snape's face. "What's the matter, Potter?"
"Oh, pipe down," Harry lightly replied. "Or I'll tell Remus here how you read a personal letter out loud in Potions class one day."
"Severus!" Lupin gasped.
"Relax, he relented," Harry laughed, thinking that he'd really needed a good laugh. It was sort of satisfying that he could have one with Snape, who was breathing a bit too deeply, as though trying hard to hold it all in.
As for post, though, could owls even find Grimmauld Place? It's not like they'd been told personally by Dumbledore that the place existed.
"Um, I need a favour," he ventured. "Ron and Hermione need some way to write back to me. I'm guessing the owls aren't a good option. Can I tell them that they can slip letters into their Potions essays, you know, roll them up real tight in the scrolls, and you can bring them by?"
"I suppose," Snape drawled, trying for a dark tone he didn't quite achieve. "Do mention to your little friends not to drop any letters on the dungeon floor, would you?"
"Yes, Professor."
Snape nodded briskly. "I really must go now, Harry. You will be all right with Lupin, here?"
"Well, sure." Harry wondered why he'd even ask.
"Do not take him out of the house," Snape cautioned Lupin. "It deflects Dark Magic, more so now than when Kreacher lived inside. It is possible that the Dark Lord may not be able to communicate via the scar, just so long as Harry stays within. It may give us the time we need for him to come to terms with Occlumency."
That time, Harry didn't bother to point out that he was standing right there, even when Snape continued, "He still looks pale, Lupin, and he may need to work with me well into the night. Be sure he sleeps several hours during the afternoon."
"I don't guess I'm allowed a sleeping draught?" Harry questioned. "Useless or lethal, I'll bet."
"Those are useless."
"Um, how about something we could get from a pharmacy? You know, Muggle medicine?"
"Do you really think it wise to expose yourself to more of the bastardized substances that contributed to your condition in the first place?" Snape haughtily questioned.
Put like that? No, Harry didn't think it was such a good idea. He sighed.
"I am sorry I can't do more for you," Snape softly admitted, all haughtiness gone. "No doubt your hip still aches, but that, too, will just have to be borne."
It ached something fierce, and Harry had a feeling that the pain itself would tire him out long before it was afternoon, but all he said was, "It's all right. I've had worse."
Snape nodded. "I will see you late tonight, then," he remarked to Harry, before he strode to the hearth and snatched a bit of Floo powder from the mantle.
Harry turned to Remus as the Potions Master vanished in a flash of green fire. "So, I'll get dressed then?" He looked down at the unfamiliar too-large pyjamas, vaguely wondering if these had belonged to Sirius. The thought made him feel queasy and comforted, all at once. "Um, is any of my stuff here?"
"Severus brought some through the Floo," Remus explained, gesturing to a battered chest of drawers.
Harry wondered how he'd pulled that off. As Remus, maybe. Somehow, he just couldn't see the dreaded Potions Master strolling into the Gryffindor common room and casually announcing that he needed Harry's clothes. But there they were, neatly folded, an assortment of shirts, jumpers, and jeans. Even shoes and socks. No school robes, but he wouldn't need them here, would he?
"Hey, where are my textbooks?" Harry called. Remus had left the room so that he could get dressed.
"Severus said you wouldn't need them," Remus called back, and Harry, just pulling on his jeans, nearly tripped.
"What's he think, I'm on some sort of holiday?" Harry shouted, yanking open the door while he was still doing up the zip. Remus was just outside. Oops. "Sorry, didn't mean to deafen you."
"We both think you need to focus on the only thing that matters at this juncture," Remus softly explained.
"Yeah, well my N.E.W.T.s matter too," Harry retorted, before coming to his senses. "But not if I can't do magic, I don't guess. Okay, first things first. So what's first then, Remus? How do we even get started?"
"Fetch your wand; it's in the lower drawer," Remus directed. "And come downstairs. But don't worry, Harry. I can't believe your magical core is burned completely through. We'll find an ember left, and coax it back to life."