Harry hated the fact that his voice near the end sounded so hopeful. He wouldn't wish this on anyone, and it was sick that he sounded like he would. But if his father ever had hurt himself, as he'd put it, then maybe he could understand what had driven Harry. Right?
If it was a hope, it was a forlorn one.
"No, I haven't," said Snape. "But that doesn't mean I can't be of some help to you, Harry." Snape paused. "I'd like to understand what things just now are like for you, and why this seemed a . . . viable option."
Harry grabbed his glass of water and took another sip, even if it did make him feel vaguely sick. He was sure the water was fine, but it tasted brackish to him. With a grimace he set it aside once more. "I . . . I don't think I can explain. It's just . . . twisted, all right? It makes sense inside my head, but . . . well, why do you think I didn't just use my needle in front of everyone? I knew how it would look! Same way it's going to look to you, I bet," he added, muttering the last.
"Are you expecting me to judge you and find you wanting?" Snape reached out again and caught Harry's hands in his own. "Harry. I told you once that I admire you, do you recall? That hasn't changed."
"How can it not have?" gasped Harry, tugging on his hands. His father didn't let them go.
"Because no one can be strong all the time," said Snape simply. "And you are strong, Harry. It's part of who you are. But for all your inherent strength, for all your fearsome powers, you aren't beyond human. Nor should you expect yourself to be."
"But you've never done this," cried Harry, almost in tears. He didn't want praise like that from Snape. He wasn't strong! Wasn't that obvious by now? He wasn't strong, and the needle wasn't going to help him get that way!
"I've done worse," said Snape bluntly. "I turned my doubts and rage on others. I don't recommend that course, either."
Harry's mouth dropped open slightly. He hadn't thought of things like that, before.
"Harry, you are sixteen years old, but you've endured more dreadful experiences than most adults suffer in nightmares, let alone waking life. It's frankly exceptional that you aren't an inpatient at St. Mungo's by now. That you are now having trouble . . . coping, comes as no surprise to me. Didn't I say earlier that I'd already divined as much?"
His bottom lip hurt. Harry was slow to realise that was because he'd been chewing on it for the last little bit. "You did, but .. . this?" Freeing his hands from his father's, Harry held his arms out, palms up, though of course the warm, soft jumper covered every mark that marred his skin.
Snape sighed. "Harry, if you think I will love you any the less for being troubled . . . I'd like to think you have more trust in me than that."
"I . . . I do trust you," Harry murmured. "That was why I came. To you, not to Remus, even though Remus was the one who gave me the powder. But . . . it doesn't matter, Dad. I'm just too mixed-up to . . ." Harry lifted his shoulders, feeling about as useless as he ever had. He couldn't even talk coherently.
Snape took a long moment to consider that. "Don't mistake me," he finally said in a level, yet intense voice. "You aren't like me, as I said before. I think you need to talk things out. But if you can't begin to, yet . . . perhaps there is another way. Do you want me to understand this, Harry? The way you do?"
"Yes," said Harry fiercely. "But don't you get it? I can't explain--"
"Hush, you idiot child," said Snape softly. "I'm not asking you to. Not in words, at any rate."
Harry felt something then, pressing against the edges of his mind. A sensation of warm waters that would cocoon him and hold him afloat. "Oh. Yeah, that might work."
"You're Occluding."
"I'll stop--" Harry drew in a breath and concentrated on damping down the fire that flared continuously at the back of his mind. It should have been easier, considering Snape's waters were so near, just waiting to be admitted. It took effort, though. He'd just grown so used to constantly keeping up his Occlumency. He hardly even noticed it, any longer. Finally, though, the fire was gone, and Harry's mind was unguarded.
For a split second he wondered if Voldemort would attack him from the inside out, like before.
But almost at once, Snape's waters were streaming into his mind to fill it. Harry's fear dropped away. He knew his father would protect him. Would die to protect him, even, not that Harry would want that.
Harry relaxed, leaning back against the cushions, his hands falling to his sides, and let himself drift atop the waters. It was good to know he was safe. That his father was with him, and would stay with him through anything. Even this. Even knowing how messed-up and confused Harry was. Harry let go of all thought, completely, and closed his eyes, giving his father free reign to see what he wished.
It was over sooner than Harry would have thought, but that was because Harry didn't really understand a lot about Legilimency.
"Harry," Snape said, the word snapping him out of his trance.
"Hmm?"
"I can see what you've been doing, but not so much your reasons why."
Harry felt like he'd been doused with a bucket of cold water. "Oh. Shite. Yeah, Legilimency unlocks memories, not psyche. Crap."
"That was certainly true when I sought to understand your uncle. But your mind recognises mine, Harry, and I know you quite well--"
"Not as well as you thought, though," said Harry bitterly.
"I know you quite well indeed," repeated Snape in a firm tone. "I think I can sink far enough into your memories to sense what you were thinking, but the experience will be more intense than regular Legilimency."
"Oh, great. I get to get knocked on my arse like when you were first teaching me. But fine, if that's what it takes--"
Snape got up from the sofa. "I have something else in mind." Harry's eyes widened when the man waved his wand at the stone floor, transfiguring the surface into a soft, plush rug. Green, of course. Snape sat down on it, cross-legged, and crooked a finger for Harry to join him.
Harry hesitated.
"I expect it's a good deal less daunting than formerly," said Snape, smiling a little. "You're more at ease with me now, I trust?"
"Yeah, of course," said Harry, moving to sit down on the floor as well, his back to his father. He wasn't even sure why he was reluctant, really.
Snape straightened his legs and stretched them out to either side of Harry, then scooted forward a bit and pulled Harry back against him. "All right?"
Harry made a conscious effort to sit less stiffly. His father's fingers carding through his hair helped, reminding him that he'd been scared of this before, but it had been fine, really. More than fine. "Yeah, all right."
Closing his eyes, Harry felt waters washing into his mind once more. It wasn't like fifth year at all, he found, and not just because Snape wasn't attacking him. No memories flashed through his mind. Just peace, and yielding, and feeling himself melting backwards into the strength of the man behind him. The whole world turned warm and wet, and Harry was adrift in it.
Adrift and floating, but not alone. Never alone.
"Let yourself go limp," whispered Snape, and Harry couldn't tell if the voice was entering through his ears, or if the waters themselves were speaking. "Lean on me. Don't think of anything, Harry. Just be."
Harry sank even deeper into the water and felt it going over his head. He should be drowning now, he knew. But he wasn't; his father was with him.
Emotion began to whip through him, then. Tiny glimpses of emotion, gone before he had much chance to sense and understand them. Snape's emotions, he slowly realised. His father was responding to whatever he was seeing as he delved ever deeper into Harry's memories, and then his thoughts. Seeing things the way Harry had seen them.