The Trouble With Honesty

"Set the table, Potter."

"Yes, sir."

"Grind the doxy eggs, Potter."

"Yes, sir."

"Finish your History of Magic essay, Potter."

"Yes, sir."

"Stop being such an idiot, Potter."

"Yes, sir."

"Clean the cauldrons, Potter."

"Yes, sir."

Severus sighed as Potter set to work without a word of protest. Since his accidental invasion on Potter's mind, the boy hadn't spoken unless absolutely necessary. Severus almost wished they were arguing again—anything other than this self-enforced silence.

He looked over at the boy, who sat with his head bent over the cauldrons, scrubbing diligently. The open book had closed off completely. It was disconcerting to not hear Potter's scathing thoughts rolling off him.

So he had been abused. Lily's son—Lily, so bright, so brilliant—Lily's son had been neglected and abused by Lily's sister and her whale of a husband. It was to Potter's credit that he was relatively well-adjusted, considering the childhood he'd gone through. Suddenly Potter's heroics were less the actions of a boy with an overinflated ego (Lockhart, but ten times worse) and more of a child who'd learned early to distrust authority.

He was still an idiot, though.

"That's enough, Potter," Severus said, though the boy was only half finished. He froze, shocked. "Put that away and then come here."

He even walked quietly now.

"I think you would benefit from learning Legilimency—you can't possibly be worse at it than Occlumency."

"Sir?"

"I am going to teach you Legilimency, Potter. Try to keep up."

"But—who would I practice it on?"

"Me, of course. Who else is in your vicinity?"

"But you—isn't that—?"

"I assure you, Potter, I am a master Occlumens and by far capable of resisting your attempts. I believe you may take to Legilimency more easily than Occlumency—you did it naturally, without a wand, when you repelled me."

Potter looked away.

"This is nothing to be ashamed of—though I will be disappointed if you fail to perform."

"I'm not sorry," Potter muttered. "Sir."

Severus eyed him, but chose not to respond. "There are, as you should remember from your Occlumency reading, two types of Legilimency. The first is surface Legilimency, which does not require a wand. Few people can perform this, but it allows the user to see the immediate thoughts of others."

"And you're able to perform it."

Severus inclined his head. "The second kind is more invasive and accesses memories. This does not take energy on either part unless you search for a particular memory or the subject resists. The wand motion is a short jab, like so. As you perform the spell on me, do your best to avoid searching for any memory. I will expel you when I see fit."

"I—I'm just going to do the spell? Now?"

"It's as good a time as ever. Surely you've seen it performed enough times to know how to do it."

Potter searched him nervously. "Legilimens."

He felt a faint flickering, but though Severus honestly tried to not resist, it soon dispelled. "Pathetic, Potter."

"That was my first try," Potter muttered.

"I don't think 'try' is the correct word, Potter. Again."

"Legilimens?"

Severus sneered. "Surely three years of magical education have taught you that you do not ask for your spells to work." Potter's eyes flickered and his stance stiffened. Severus cursed mentally. Be nice, he reminded himself. No matter what he does to deserve criticism. Then he scrutinized the boy. The hesitance was gone. "Perhaps when you go against the Dark Lord you'll say, 'Pretty please, stupefy?' That's the stunning spell, Potter."

"I know that."

"I suppose Miss Granger has talked about it." His face said it all. "Perhaps we should bring her here, so she can explain Legilimency to you, since you're clearly incapable of simple tasks without her holding your—"

"Legilimens!"

Potter's spell took Snape by surprise—he had been working up to an insult about James Potter—and he forgot to release his shields. But Potter shattered through them like they didn't exist. Granger with her bushy hair, throwing her hand in the air. Her careful, precise handwriting covering far more pages than necessary, much like Lily—Lily! Red hair, green eyes, laughing next to him, under the Sorting Hat, walking with him through the hallways, crying while Severus stood helplessly, yelling at him, on the train— Severus could feel Potter's curiosity. It was time to expel him.

But Potter fought back, a barely contained hurricane focused on finding out more about his mother. Lily and Petunia, on the swings, and her carefree laugh as she threw herself off the swing, flying through the air like an acrobat. Sitting with Severus under a tree as he told her about Azkaban. Reclining on the grass with study notes. Experimenting with potions together, the scare when it exploded and they barely got shields up in time, laughing afterwards. 'You're my best friend, Sev," she said, twining her fingers through his.

"Enough." Severus's eyes focused slowly. His legs felt cramped—he was kneeling, he realized, and rose hastily. Potter stood above him, still pointing a wand at him. At least he was just as shaken. Severus wet his lips. "Very good, Potter. That was—" Though the boy had all the control of a raging hippopotamus, the powerful force ripping through his mind felt much like, well, the Dark Lord.

"You knew my mum?" Potter whispered. His arm trembled as he lowered his wand, and he stared into Severus's eyes as if trying to find more answers.

He closed his eyes. "Yes. I did. We were neighbours."

"And you liked her. You were friends. Sir."

"The best of friends. You don't have to call me that." Potter had been in his mind, knew his most intimate secret, had driven him to his knees with the force of his demand for information. "Except at Hogwarts."

"Okay? Are you going to stop calling me 'Potter', then?" He giggled a little.

"Don't be ridiculous." Severus glared, but there was no heat in it. "Go write up what Legilimency was like. I don't think I can handle another attack right now."

He meant it as a compliment of sorts, but Potter's eyes widened in concern. "Are you alright, sir? Er—"

"Quite," Severus said shortly, which meant his head was throbbing and his mind felt raw but he didn't need any pain potions. Probably. "I've had worse, Potter."

He bit his lip. "From who?"

Severus sighed, cursing himself for the slip. The boy was bound to find out eventually, but it would have been nice if it hadn't been while Severus was teaching him Legilimency. "The Dark Lord." Though Dumbledore had searched his mind thoroughly as he saw fit.

"Voldemort? So you are—you—"

"Go write your damned godfather and he'll tell you all about it, I'm sure." Severus's lip curled, as it always did when he thought about the mutt. "He'll be delighted."

Potter frowned, but, fortunately, didn't retort.

The parchment had nearly been torn by the force of the quill that had been pressed on it. Dumbledore says we can trust him, knows some special secret about him that means he's loyal, Sirius's letter concluded bitterly. I guess if we can't trust Dumbledore, we're lost already. But keep an eye on him. Learn Occlumency as quickly as you can. And stay safe.

Harry bit his lip. He wondered what Sirius would have said had he known that Harry had also been in Snape's mind.

Probably that he's tricking you, a voice in Harry's head said.

Probably, and yet it had seemed so real. The memories, the resistance, Snape's obvious pain and exhaustion—would he really fall to his knees for an act?

He's a spy. That's what he does all the time.

Yes, argued the other voice, but to me? He hates me.

Harry glanced at the time and started. He was due to have another session with Snape soon. If he went in like this, he would definitely spend the whole time trying to find out more about Snape's stint as one of Voldemort's followers—Death Eaters, they were called—and while he wanted to know more (and Snape was a git), the idea of forcing the knowledge from Snape was...

He sort of hoped Snape was showing him false images.

He needed to clear his mind, so Snape's memories slipped naturally through him. It always came back to that. Hermione had mentioned looking through textbooks, so he reached for one and began reading.

Defense of the Dark Arts reminded him of Voldemort. Transfiguration made him stressed. Potions made him mad at Snape again. Herbology reminded him of Potions. Harry chucked the book away and looked at the clock again. He had time to go for a short flight. His broom seemed to tingle happily when he touched it, excited to be going out again.

It felt a little like sneaking out, but he was doing it to do what Snape said, so Harry told himself it was alright. Snape's room was in the dungeon, but one of his doors opened (magically, Harry presumed) to the outside. The sky was blue and soon the wind rushing over his face and the swooping sensation as he dived drove all care out of his head.

"Flying, Potter?" Snape drawled when he returned.

"You said I could!"

"Indeed I did." The strange glint in Snape's gaze didn't disappear, however. Harry met his gaze stubbornly. A few surface emotions soon made him realize he was probing Snape—or his professor was projecting somehow. Either way, there was no sign of what was making Snape look at him like that. "Set your broom down somewhere so we can begin."

Harry adjusted his robes as he walked back, wand in hand. "Ready, sir."

Snape inclined his head. "Last time, you successfully penetrated my mind but were very taken with what you found there." Harry blushed. "As you noticed, your thoughts brought out certain memories to the fore of my mind. While I may, if you learn this successfully, eventually teach you to search for a specific piece of knowledge, you must first learn how to allow my thoughts to flow naturally."

"I understand, sir." Harry hesitated. "How will I know if I'm influencing your thoughts or not?"

"Trust me, Potter, you'll know. And if you don't know, I certainly will. Now, if you're ready?"

Harry knew what it felt like now, so unlike last time, he only needed one try to penetrate Snape's mind. This time, he noticed the disorientation he felt as foreign emotions and distorted scenes swirled around him. He had written that it was like he was in a memory (Tom Riddle's was the one he was thinking of, but he didn't write that) but it wasn't, not really. For one thing, he wasn't a spectator here viewing Snape's mind like it was a movie, and for another, the memories here did not progress in anything like a linear way.

Thinking about disorientation had apparently brought up memories about hesitant attempts at flight. Or maybe he'd just been thinking about flying because Harry had been flying. He couldn't tell, despite Snape's assurances.

Stumbling on the wonderful, firm ground, that stick of wood sitting innocently on the grass not far from him. Potter and his coterie laughing. "You'd think he'd be better at it, since he looks so much like a bat." Dungbombs being thrown by a suit of armor, which he tried futilely to run from. Lily yelling at him in the Great Hall, making a commotion that could be heard even from the Slytherin table, where Snape smiled, the smell finally gone.

The other times, Harry had been overcome by horror from what he'd seen. But now he noticed a little…tug, he supposed, like friction. As he experimented, the tug seemed to lessen, until the memories slipped by without any resistance.

Yes! He had succeeded, he could tell he had! He wasn't thinking about how Snape was a Death Eater—

Black robes and a white skull mask with holes for eyes. A herd of people, gathered around a man with red eyes and black hair and slightly inhuman features, bowing to him. "My most loyal," the man said with a lipless smile, his voice like a hiss, patting the seat next to him. Being let down, his face red. "I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!" Harry gasped as Lily blinked and turned away. "What?" asked someone who looked like an older Draco Malfoy. "Do you still have feelings for that mudblood?" A screaming woman's voice stopped as she collapsed, at the end of his wand, like a puppet whose stings were cut, and his neck broke out in a cold sweat that had nothing to do with the warm night.

But why had he left? Oh—he had failed, he had thought about that Death Eater thing and he could definitely tell he was influencing Snape's thoughts, and Snape had called his mum a mudblood after she had helped him, but his dad had been humiliating him in front of the whole school. Harry didn't try to swallow his guilt and anger—

Guilt. It seemed to wash the scene. "The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches…" The point of a wand and then Snape was unceremoniously thrown out.

Now he knelt on the ground. "My lord. I have important news for you."

"Rise, Severus." The lipless curve, the pale face. "What have you heard?"

He rose, still half bent. "I was in the Hogs Head, where Dumbledore had chosen to conduct interviews for the Divination position, listening on your behalf. The woman appeared a fraud of the usual sort, with no measure of the real gift. However, at the end, she seemed to go into a trance. The prophecy she uttered was—" Snape closed his eyes as he tried to remember, before opening them hastily, fearing the Dark Lord's displeasure "—'The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…"

"Is that all?"

"I—" his mouth was dry "I was discovered, my lord, before I could hear the whole thing; I apologize, my lord—"

"You heard enough," the Dark Lord said. "Very good. You will be well rewarded"

And then Harry was ejected, but he couldn't have seen anything else anyways. His vision was red, red and dark on the edges with fury, as the scene's implications settled in.

A/N: I'm sorry? Anyways, I've decided to take this a bit longer. I have ideas for a couple more chapters, and after that...we'll come to that when we reach it. As always, I live for your reviews. Especially tell me how you think I'm handling their interactions/emotions and the Legilimency experience!