"I've always known what Harry's childhood was like," Albus announced abruptly.  The statement was like a slap.  As much as Severus had tried to rationalize what he'd seen, the truth still spoke to him in the wee hours of the morning.  Potter had never had a privileged childhood. 

"No," Severus protested.  This could not be.  He'd known?!  Didn't he care?  Albus' lack of regard for Potter's feelings suddenly grew comparable to that of Severus' own, which was utterly unacceptable.  He was a spy.  He'd gone to the Dark.  He deserved it.  And Potter does not?

"Oh yes.  But I had no alternatives, you see.  I did what I thought was best.  But I entrusted this truth to you, Severus," Albus said, leaning forward on his desk in his effort to emphasize his point.  "I thought that if you saw with your own eyes just how hard things have always been for Harry, that you might relent.  He never did deserve your spite.  He deserved your compassion," Albus continued sadly, and Severus realized with dawning horror that the Headmaster nearly looked like he was about to cry. 

"So because I kicked him out for spying in the Pensieve you loaned me, I'm being fired?"

"No, Severus.  You are not being fired.  But you are also no longer to be entrusted with Harry's tutelage alone.  There will be others at all times to insure you do not...  abuse your position of authority with him again."  The sting of the words were laced with accusation.

"What does he charge me with?  I'll hear it from him, then," Severus nearly snarled, rage, guilt and fear roaring inside him. 

"Nothing.  He will not speak of it.  But what would he tell me if I gave him some of your Veritaserum, Severus?" Albus asked with a deadly calm voice.  This was when the Headmaster was at his most dangerous.  He used words in a way a cat plays with a trapped mouse. 

"That he did not practice, did not pick up the lessons, and ultimately had no regard for his professor's privacy," Severus stated carefully. 

"What books did you suggest he use to learn to ground himself?  What other Occlumens did you recommend he read about?" Albus asked.  Severus snapped his jaw shut.  "Don't bother answering.  When I asked Harry the same question right before the end of term last year, he seemed shocked there were any." 

"So there is nothing I can say to you in my own defense, is there?" Severus asked, defeated. 

"You've failed in the most important thing I've ever asked you to do.  Pray that the damage isn't permanent and Harry reconsiders learning from you.  Or you may very well have to consider changing sides for real." 

No more was spoken on the matter.  As no arrangements were made, it became clear Albus had failed to persuade Potter to reconsider.  It was odd not to have to see the boy.  To know he no longer had him in his class.  It was refreshing and chilling all at once. 

Severus took care to scrutinize Potter during mealtimes... when the boy bothered to attend.  More often than not, he skipped dinner.  Something the boy could ill afford to do. 

He was avoiding Severus.  That much was clear.  And on those rare occasions when they were in proximity of each other, Severus took every opportunity to push his limits, to gall him into speaking.  He took points, snarled venomously about Potter's deceased godfather, insulted the boy's intelligence and clearly blamed him for all that had come to pass. 

Severus couldn't help it, and although he'd never admit it, he didn't understand why.  It was like picking at a scab although he knew it would permanently scar.  He had to know, to see for himself just what exactly lay behind the steely glares Potter now leveled at him.  He didn't flinch at Severus' words.  He didn't respond at all.  And his lack of response worried Severus more than anything the boy had ever done before. 

The loud protests of his friends did nothing to dissuade Severus from his persecution of the boy.  Even when confronted by Albus himself to cease his antagonism, he couldn't seem to stop.  Something stirred within Potter's eyes when he looked at his former Potions Professor, and Severus was damned if he'd let it rest until he knew for certain exactly what it was. 

It wasn't until Christmas that Severus finally got his answer.  The boy had refused to go to the Burrow.  He looked gray and exhausted and gaunt.  He listlessly picked at his food and seldom spoke unless spoken to.  He'd taken to wandering the halls at night, no longer even bothering to take his father's invisibility cloak with him.  Brazenly he broke the rules, but it still took several days before Severus took the opportunity being presented.  It was the night of Christmas Eve. 

"Still above the rules, Potter?" Severus hissed as he came upon the boy wearily mounting the steps that led in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.  Potter froze, one foot hovering in place as he glanced over his shoulder. 

"No sir," Potter replied in a voice devoid of emotion.

"Then why are you out after curfew?"

"I couldn't sleep," Potter replied, the irony thick between them. 

"And whose fault is that, boy?" Severus asked sharply. 

"Mine, sir," Potter replied.  Ah. Now they were getting somewhere. 

"Yes it is, isn't it?" he mocked.  Potter began to resume his slow climb up the stairs.  "Where do you think you're going?" he barked.  Potter shrugged. 

"I'm out past curfew.  I'm returning to my Common Room." 

"I haven't given you permission to leave," Severus said, feeling the triumphant roil of anger and frustration wash over his senses.  It is still so easy to read your emotions, Potter.  And in truth, wasn't that what he was looking for?  To see beneath the icy stillness of Potter's shell and learn just what had grown beneath it?