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A sharp pain ran through Harry’s abdomen. He groaned and clutched his stomach, doubling over where he stood in Care for Magical Creatures.
“Harry?!” Hermione whisper-yelled in concern.
Harry just groaned in reply. Words seemed too hard. This pain… It wasn’t terrible; it was far from the worst pain he’d felt, but it was new. And new pains with no discernable cause were generally concerning. He rubbed a hand over his lower belly, trying to identify what was hurting. It felt like… Harry blinked.
“Hermione?” he whispered in shock.
She leaned closer, hand on his back. “What’s going on Harry?”
Harry swallowed. He was probably wrong, but it didn’t hurt to ask. “What’s the latest someone can present as an omega?”
He felt more than heard her intake of breath.
“What’s goin’ on o’er there?” Hagrid called out, and Harry grimaced. Not from pain, but from embarrassment.
He looked at Hermione pleadingly. Please don’t tell them, he begged silently. He had to be sure before they went around suggesting Harry might be an omega.
Luckily, Hermione seemed to understand. “I think Harry needs to go to the hospital wing, professor. May I escort him.”
Hagrid furrowed his brow in worry, and seemed to be hesitating between offering to accompany Harry himself and leaving the rest of his fifth year class alone with the delicate and territorial bowtruckles. Eventually, the need to protect the tiny creatures from reckless teenagers won out, and he waved Harry and Hermione off to see Madame Pomfrey.
***
As they entered the hospital wind, Madame Pomfrey looked up from where she was organizing her potions stores. “Mr Potter!” She rushed over. “My word! What happened?!” She was no doubt thinking Harry had gotten himself into another death-defying heroic stunt and feared the worst.
Harry tried to speak, but just gasped as he sat down on one of the hospital beds.
Hermione pursed her lips and answered for him. “He’s having abdominal pains, ma’am. He’s—we’re concerned he might be… presenting.” She gave Madame Pomfrey a pointed look. The aging woman blinked in surprise, eyes going from Hermione back to Harry.
“I see…” She began hesitantly before flying into motion. “Well, there is a very simple way to know for sure.” She grabbed a potion from across the room and hurried back. “Drink this, Mr Potter,” she instructed.
Harry obliged and smacked his lips at the taste. It was surprisingly pleasant compared to most potions the healer gave him. Kind of earthy.
“How did that taste?” she questioned him, as Hermione watched on in curiosity.
Harry blinked. “Er… good?”
Madame Pomfrey nodded and took her wand out, casting a spell in the general area of Harry’s pain. As her wand and his belly lit up different colors, she spoke again. “The taste of that potion tends to be rather polarizing, but unmated omegas in heat generally find it rather pleasant. It is made with alpha pheromones.”
“Ew, what?!” Harry recoiled. “Pheromones from where?!” Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Had he just eaten…
Madame Pomfrey smirked at him, seemingly knowing where his dirty teenaged mind had gone. “They are collected from scent gland excretions and grown on something similar to a muggle petri dish… They are sterile and contain no DNA,” she added.
Harry nodded gratefully, still feeling a bit sick at the thought. He scowled at Hermione when she giggled. “It’s not funnyyy,” he whined, but she apparently couldn’t be convinced.
As Madame Pomfrey finished casting spells on his abdomen, she straightened up and nodded. “Well, Mr Potter. It seems your suspicions were correct. You are an omega. Most omegas present between the ages of twelve and fourteen, but you seem to be a late-bloomer. It’s not terribly uncommon, though not much is known about why it happens. Because people generally assume they are a beta if they haven’t presented by that age, there are few studies done on late-blooming omega youths to discern the cause.”
Harry nodded, understanding but frustrated.
“Do you have any questions?”
Harry gawped at her. “OF COURSE I HAVE QUESTIONS!”
She pursed her lips at him disapprovingly. “Well, Mr Potter, it was expected that you would pay attention in the sexual health presentation I gave to all the fourth years in your last school year.” She narrowed her eyes accusingly.
Harry blinked. “What presentation?”
Hermione gasped. “Oh no! Harry! That was when you were studying for the second task!”
Harry looked at her, annoyed. “I didn’t even know it was happening, Hermione. I didn’t mean to skip it.”
“No, of course not!” she assured. “But I remember you were excused from some school activities—all of the champions were. But they were all over seventeen. They didn’t miss anything important. I thought Professor McGonagall had spoken to you about it after the rest of us.”
Harry tried not to get mad at her. “You knew there was a presentation, and you didn’t tell me?!”
Hermione had the decency to look ashamed. “I did tell you, Harry. I just didn’t mention the topic of the presentation, since I thought you’d hear about it later. Besides,” she emphasized exasperatedly, “We both thought you were a beta. How was I supposed to know how important it might be for you?!”
Harry scowled. He knew it wasn’t Hermione’s fault, but he was mad, dagnabbit! He had enough going on in his life, he didn’t need to be an omega on top of it all! He didn’t know much about omegas, but he knew their biology was way more complicated than his— than betas. Not him. He’s not a beta. He’s an omega! Harry groaned and faceplanted the pillow.
He heard a tired sigh from above him. “Mr Potter. I know this is sudden—and rather life-altering—news, but it is not worth throwing a fit about. Roughly 15% of the wizarding population are omegas. I have plenty of resources to educate you and help you through this.”
Harry mewled in despair before gasping and bringing the pillow off his face. “What was that?! I just— I just…” He sighed and flopped back on the bed. “I guess I really am an omega,” he gave in, defeated.
Madame Pomfrey nodded from where she stood above him. “You are. Now we have to decide on a course of action.”
“Action?” Harry raised an eyebrow to her. “What action is there to do?”
Hermione looked at him disbelievingly. “You’re in heat, Harry. Did you think most omegas just go about their day like it’s not happening?”
Harry was chagrined, but he really didn’t understand what he had gotten wrong. “I mean, yeah?”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh honestly, Harry!” She sat down on the bed next to him. “You’re already in pain. Omegas in heat receive accommodations. That’s why Susan Bones is out this week. She’s resistant to heat-suppressants.”
Harry looked up at her curiously. “Heat suppressants?"
Hermione nodded. “Yes, Harry. Heat suppressants. Being in heat isn’t fun—as you’ve already realized—most omegas go on heat suppressants unless they’re trying to conceive.”
Harry blushed. Oh, God. He could conceive. Before he could enter a full blown spiral at that dangerous train of thought, he focused on something else. “Hang on a minute. How do you know so much about omegas? You’re a beta, aren’t you?”
Hermione glared at him. Harry knew it was rude to ask someone their gender orientation, but he felt like in this context, it was kind of relevant. Hermione thankfully answered his question without calling him out for it. “Yes, Harry. I’m a beta, but I also went to the presentation last year, and, more importantly, I paid attention.” She swatted his arm lightly, as if he’d gotten into this situation by not paying attention. He scowled.
Madame Pomfrey gave a satisfied hum. “I’m glad someone was listening so intently. Most years it’s like I’m talking to a wall.”
Hermione preened at the praise, but Harry prickled. “I would have paid attention if I’d known about it!” He felt the need to defend himself.
Madame Pomfrey eyes him skeptically but nodded. “I’m sure you would have, Mr Potter. Now!” She summoned two pamphlets from her office and pulled up a chair to go over the basics with Harry. “You have a few options. Unfortunately, Hogwarts doesn’t provide heat-suppressants, because they are so expensive, and they’re not considered a medical necessity.” The witch rolled her eyes, clearly not agreeing with the classification of heat-suppressants as medically unnecessary. “However,” she continued, “if you would like me to, I can write a prescription for you and set it to be delivered to the hospital wing. Or you can have it delivered to your guardians, and they can send it to you.”
Harry swallowed. He didn’t need another reason for the Dursleys to think he was a freak. “Ordering them to here would be great.”
Madame Pomfrey nodded. “Alright.” She made a note on a parchment she’d summoned. “I assume you brought money with you to Hogwarts?” she questioned.
“Uh. Yeah. How much is it?”
Madame Pomfrey waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, not much, at least not much for someone with your presumed savings. But there are still several options. Depending on the strength of your heats, you may need different strength suppressants than other omegas. They all have different costs. Heats typically occur every two to three months, unless the omega is pregnant.” Harry tried not to think about that. “It usually takes a few heats to settle on which suppressant is best, so I won’t recommend you pay for your deliveries in advance until we’ve found which one works best for you.”
“Okay… but what about for this heat?”
Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips. “Well, depending on your discomfort levels, I would recommend you continue with classes for the day. Because we need to know your tolerance to choose a suppressant, it would be better to test your limits, as bad as that sounds. Scent blockers luckily are provided by the school, so you won’t face too much trouble because of that.” She handed him another potion vial before continuing. “If you find yourself needing something to absorb the slick, wear one of these hygiene pads. She presented him with a small bundle.
He looked at it curiously. “Slick?”
Madame Pomfrey pursed her lips in what appeared to be… embarrassment? Hermione coughed. He turned to her. “Slick is… natural lubricant, Harry.”
If Harry had been blushing before, he must’ve been as red as a tomato now. He covered his face. “Oh…”
“As for your fever, you know a good cooling charm?”
Harry nodded, face still buried in his hands.
“Well then. There’s nothing else to be done until your next heat arrives. At that point, we’ll try out your first heat suppressant.”
Harry sighed and stood up, ignoring the pulsating sensations in his abdomen. He held up the scent blocker potion. “So I just drink this now?”
Madame Pomfrey nodded. “Yes. And try to go about your day as usual. If it is too uncomfortable, come here. And if, for some reason, the scent-blockers are not working probably, come here. We don’t want to risk any accidents. You’re not the only newly presented person at Hogwarts; teenage alphas and omegas alike are adjusting to their new hormones.
Harry nodded, understanding. He’d only been in the wizarding world for less than five years, but he’d heard many warnings and horror stories about alphas taking advantage of omegas in heat. He didn’t want to risk that happening to him. He drank the scent blocker and grimaced; this potion didn’t taste as good as the last.
“You don’t have any alphas in your dorm, do you? None of them get scent blockers from the hospital wing, but they may order some by owl.”
Harry shrugged. “I’ve wondered if one of them is, but I doubt he’d freely share that information if I asked.”
Madame Pomfrey nodded. “Then I’ll give you two more scent blockers just to be safe. Take after dinner, and the other before breakfast.”
Harry nodded.
“Don’t hesitate to come back if you have questions or find yourself unable to focus because of your heat.” Madame Pomfrey scribbled out an excuse note for them to give to their next teacher, and she handed both it and the ‘omega’ pamphlets to Harry. “It’ll take some adjusting, but you’ll get through it, Mr Potter.”
Harry sighed and nodded. He didn’t want to have to adjust. He’d thought he’d already gone through puberty. This duckin’ fluffed.
***
By the time they got to their next class, Harry was close to breaking, or close to breaking something at least.
“Ughhhhh,” Harry groaned and threw his head back dramatically as they kept walking.
“Does it really hurt, Harry?” Hermione asked tentatively.
“Noooo,” Harry replied with a whine. “But everything smells!”
“Ohh!” Hermione’s eyes lit up, and Harry suddenly regretted saying anything. He could probably read about this in the pamphlets when he was feeling better. He didn’t really feel like getting a lecture right now. But a lecture is exactly what he got. “That makes a lot of sense, Harry! Betas aren’t as sensitive to pheromones as alphas and omegas are. So, while we can smell them when someone is actively excreting them, you can smell the subtle lingering scent for potentially weeks after the fact, depending on the frequency and strength of the pheromones released in a location! Hmm…” She tilted her head in thought.
“What?” Harry asked dubiously.
“It’s just… I think this corridor is a frequent make-out spot. So the pheromones you’re smelling are probably ones of arousal.”
“Ew!” Harry looked around the corridor. There were benches and alcoves and all sorts of places hormonal teenagers might go with their partners. He shuddered.
“Can you tell a difference?” Hermione asked.
“Of course I can! I couldn’t smell these things before!”
Hermione shook her head. “No, I mean can you tell the difference between the types of pheromones? They change depending on the person’s emotions. They can smell angry, scared, happy, safe, possessive, aroused, lonely. Haven’t you noticed? Negative emotions tend to be more sour.”
Harry frowned. “I hadn’t noticed…” Though now that he thought about it, he had noticed how sour the air smelled whenever he and Malfoy fought throughout the years. Though, he hadn’t noticed it in their first year. Maybe Malfoy presented during the summer before their second year? The thought made Harry angry for no rational reason. It was so unfair that Malfoy presented early and he presented late. He scowled.
Hermione giggled, and he turned his scowl on her. “Sorry,” she apologized. “It’s just so obvious that you’re more emotional than usual. That happens to omegas in heat, especially when they’re away from their pack alpha.”
Harry’s scowl deepened. “So what? Unmated omegas have to find an alpha, or they’ll just be angry during every heat?!” Harry tried to convince himself that his tight chest and watery eyes were caused by anger, but he really didn’t want to have to find a mate… He was the Boy Who Lived! It would be a nightmare if he had alphas fighting over him. He hoped he could keep his omega status hidden…
Hermione looked at him questioningly. “Of course not, Harry. Being unmated has nothing to do with having a pack alpha. Think of a pack like a family, either biological or found. The pack omega is the maternal figure, and the pack alpha is paternal. The pack leaders don’t literally have to be the mother and father. In less traditional packs—which is a lot considering the higher population of betas—one or neither of the parents can be a ‘leader’ and the other leader positions are filled by senior members, maybe an aunt or a family friend. Sometimes, even a sibling significantly older than the pups.”
Harry frowned. “Why are they called pups? We’re still human!”
Hermione nodded. “Of course you are. It’s more of an affectionate term, just like ‘pack’ and even ‘mate’ to a certain extent. Alternative gender orientations are just humans with special—and strong—social instincts. Obviously, there’s the biological aspect too, which is more peculiar to muggle-raised people like us, but, in the wizarding world, that’s not really thought twice about. That’s not the reason for the dehumanizing nicknames; they’re just because of the social similarity to various animal communities.”
Harry furrowed his brow. “It’s stupid that I have to learn all of this now.”
Hermione nodded. “I agree. Obviously, it would have been better if you’d gone to the presentation, but even if you had, it’s a lot to take in. I think there should be a mandatory wizard-culture course for muggle-raised first years, and a muggle-studies course for wizard-raised first years. Obviously the muggle-studies elective is great, but I think there should be a mandatory aspect to it. It wouldn’t even have to be a year-long class! Just explaining the basics of muggle biology and society would help. A lot of wizards are just as confused about muggles as you are about your own body.”
Harry nodded. He didn’t like the idea of any more mandatory work, but he had to admit, it did seem like a necessity. “So, wait? Do I have a pack alpha then?”
Hermione tilted her head before shrugging. “I don’t know. It’s definitely not your uncle. Even if he was an alpha, I doubt it would be him, based on how you talk about him.” Harry rubbed his arm in painful memory. Vernon had broken it when he was ten. He definitely wouldn’t have been Harry’s pack alpha. “It could be someone else though,” Hermione continued. “It’s hard to know since so many people are hush hush about their orientations. It’s possible someone close to you is an alpha. Maybe it’s even McGonagall.” She shrugged as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say.
Harry hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking and hurried to catch up. “But how do I know if I have a pack alpha? Do I get to choose them?”
Hermione shook her head. “Oh no. You don't get to choose. That’s actually been known to cause some tension among packs. If a younger member overthrows the previous alpha by simply being more trusted by pack members, there’s nothing the older alpha can do. Well,” she corrected. “Historically, the alphas would have fought for dominance, but that doesn’t always repair the damaged bonds. The transfer of bonds is caused by a feeling of safety and trustworthiness between pack leader and other pack members. Winning a fight for dominance theoretically proves to the pack that the alpha can keep them safe, but it often backfires, making the pack feel emotionally unsafe.”
Harry nodded. “So it’ll just be an alpha I trust?” he asked.
“Not necessarily,” Hermione considered. “Dominance fights were once commonly used because they did work. Sometimes the physical safety outweighs the emotional distrust. If the challenged alpha wins the fight by a landslide, the pack member’s instincts might switch the bond back, simply due to the loser not being able to protect them. In modern society, emotional safety is generally more important, because there’s better law enforcement and societal protections, so the fights for dominance don’t work as well as they used to. But if a person doesn’t have any emotional safety, their bond might attach to someone they don’t trust just for the physical safety aspect.”
Harry nodded. “So as long as I have an alpha I trust, it won’t be someone bad?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, but you have a lot of people protecting you, so I doubt it would be anyone ‘bad’ like you say.”
Harry nodded. “Right, but we don’t know if any of them are alphas.”
“True,” Hermione conceded.
“You said I would be emotional without my pack alpha, right?”
“Yes, generally. At least when you’re in heat.”
“Why is that?” Harry was actually finding this lecture interesting.
Hermione smiled at him, apparently happy he was so curious. “Well the purpose of omegas going into heat is to strengthen pack bonds. That’s why omegas in heat crave affection so much.”
Harry’s expression turned sour, like he’d eaten a lemon. “Right, but you said the pack alpha doesn’t have to be a mate.”
Hermione nodded. “It doesn’t.”
Harry blinked. “But… What do you mean by ‘crave affection’? I thought that meant…”
Hermione shook her head, affronted. “No, not at all! Well, a little. Obviously a mated omega craves their partner, and you’re probably producing slick in the event that you do find a partner, but affection doesn’t have to mean sex. Most underaged omegas have ‘pack bonding’ where the whole back bands together and cuddles in the nest.”
“Huh?” Harry looked at her. “What’s a nest? Like their house?”
Hermione nodded. “Kind of. The house is called a ‘den’. The ‘nest’ is exactly what it sounds like. It’s like a bed, but it’s made of gathered materials—not sticks—that remind the in-heat omega of their pack. Things with their pack’s scent on them. Clothes, favorite toys, even books. It’s generally preferred that the things are soft enough to lay on, but an omega in heat will want to be surrounded by their pack, and if their pack isn’t there, anything with their scent will help. That’s why they nest.”
“‘That’s why they nest’?” Harry looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“‘Nesting’ is one of the social behaviors of an omega in heat. Or any lonely alpha or omega missing their pack really. It’s just the impulse to create a nest.”
Harry nodded then frowned. “Will I try to nest?”
Hermione giggled at him. “Maybe. I think most of your ‘pack’ is already at Hogwarts, so you might not need to. But you’ll definitely be craving affection. So if you want a hug!” She turned to him and spread her arms dramatically. “You only have to ask!” Without waiting for a response, she crushed him with her bear-like grip.
“Ah! I’m good! I don’t need a hug!” Her grip didn’t relent, but she started shaking with laughter. Harry gasped for breath. “I don’t need a hug!” He repeated. “But I do need to breathe!”
Finally, she released him and turned to the door of Umbridge’s classroom. Class had started probably five minutes ago, but they had their note from Madame Pomfrey, so hopefully Umbridge wouldn’t give them detention for their tardiness. Her detentions sucked. If Harry had to polish one more cat covered decorative plate, he was going to throw it against the wall.
***
No such luck. Umbridge always found a reason to give Harry detention. As if it wasn’t enough that the Prophet was spewing lies about him, his teacher was trying to turn the whole wizarding world against him! She was giving him detentions at least once a week; he shouldn’t have been surprised. But at least this plate polishing session would have to be postponed for a bit. Harry had his “remedial potions” session with Snape tonight.
That was where he was going now—down to the dungeons after dinner for one of their delightful occlumency lessons. Harry rolled his eyes. Snape was such a prat. Acting like he was doing these lessons for Harry’s own good just because Dumbledore told him too. Harry doubted it; Snape just liked tormenting him.
Harry furrowed his brow as he made his way down. He’d received a lot of odd looks on his way from the Great Hall. He didn’t understand why everyone was making such a big deal out of him having what was essentially a detention with Snape, but it seemed like a lot of people’s eyes were lingering on him.
He knocked on Snape’s door.
“Enter.” Snape’s drawling voice greeted him.
Harry came in and set his bag down. As he sat down, he winced at the pain of his heat. Harry gasped. His heat! He’d forgotten to take his scent blockers!
Snape looked up at him and sneered. “If you are going to entertain your omega, I would thank you to not drag the scent in here with you!” Snape snapped.
Harry gulped. Harry supposed it was good Snape assumed it was not his scent. But wait… What was it Hermione had said? Betas aren’t as sensitive to pheromones as alphas and omegas are. Sure, Harry was actively producing his heat scent, since he’d forgotten his blockers, but Harry had never noticed smelling an omegas heat. He supposed most omegas were on suppressants, but surely he’d been around one before and just not noticed because of his previously beta-like senses? Did that mean Snape wasn’t a beta? Could he be an omega too? Harry blinked and tried not to think about it. Gross gross gross. He didn’t want to think about any of his teacher’s gender orientations and, by extension, their potential sex lives. Not that Snape had one of those, Harry snickered.
“What is so funny, Mr Potter?” Snape stalked closer to him. As he reached the desk Harry was sat at, he paused and took a deep inhale through his nose. “What exactly is that smell?” he asked in a low, dangerous voice.
Harry’s heart pounded. It was possible that Snape wasn’t an omega. If he was an alpha… There was a reason Madame Pomfrey had given Harry those scent blockers. Of course, she’d been concerned about newly resented alphas who weren’t used to fighting their instincts yet. If Snape was an alpha, he would have had years to adjust to his hormones. On the other hand, however, Snape hated Harry. He’d already raped Harry’s mind. What if… Harry’s breath quickened, and he fought the impulse to get up from his chair and run right back to his dorm. He swallowed and tried to speak in an even voice. “It’s from ‘entertaining my omega’ like you said, sir.” Harry’s voice wobbled, and he flinched as Snape took another deep inhale.
“Is it?” Snape questioned as he leaned closer. “Because that scent is very fresh. Almost as if it is actively being made by you, Mr Potter.”
Harry’s pulse pounded, and he slowly reached down to his bag to grab his scent blocker. He didn’t want to move too fast, so as to not aggravate his professor, but he also didn’t want to move so slowly that the man felt he had an opportunity to do something to Harry.
As Harry pulled the potion from his back, he kept his eye on Snape, but avoided his eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact, but he couldn’t take his eyes away from the potentially dangerous man.
Snape straightened as Harry uncorked the potion and watched intently with narrowed eyes as Harry downed it in two large gulps.
“Five points from Gryffindor for lying to a professor, Mr Potter,” Snape hissed, before he turned around and walked back to his desk where his pensieve was waiting for him to deposit memories into.
Harry finally let himself relax and let out a breath he hadn’t fully realized he’d been holding. “I’m sorry,” he squeaked, mortified at how weak his voice was. His whole body felt tired; speaking any louder seemed exhausting. “I forgot to take the potion.”
“Clearly.” Snape’s sneer was evident in his voice, even with his back still turned to Harry.
Harry gulped and fought tears back from his eyes. That could have gone very badly. It still could, Harry realized. It was unlikely the professor would try anything, and Harry’s heat scent wasn’t so strong now that he’d had the scent blocker, but, like Hermione had said, the smell lingered. It was on his clothes. Soaked into the pad Madame Pomfrey had given him. The ‘natural lubricant’. Harry shivered. Surely, his scent was filled with fear, and not arousal? The slick wasn’t caused by any emotions; he couldn’t help that he was in heat!
“Why aren’t you on a suppressant?” Snape asked, finally turning to face Harry.
Harry swallowed and looked down. “This is my first heat. I didn’t know…” He blinked the tears from his eyes. He would not cry in front of Snape.
“You’re a late bloomer then?” Snape questioned with an arched brow.
Harry pursed his lips but nodded. “I thought I was a beta…”
Snape sighed but nodded. “Very well then. You should not practice occlumency in your current mental state. We will instead work on the theory, rather than the application.”
Harry looked up. “We haven’t worked on theory before.”
“Indeed we haven’t.” Snape rolled his eyes at Harry’s obvious statement. “However, I have deduced that it is necessary. After four sessions of repeated failure, it is clear you require the art of occlumency to be dumbed down to the simplest level for you to make any progress.”
Harry huffed. “Of course I need to know the theory! You kept telling me to clear my mind, but you didn’t tell me what that meant! How am I supposed to follow your instructions when I don’t even know what they mean?!”
“Watch your tone, Potter.” Snape glared at him. “We will work on the theory this evening, so stop complaining.”
Harry slouched in his chair and scowled.
Snape scowled right back. “Sit up, Potter! I will not tolerate indolence, even if you are in heat! I require your attention if you are to learn.”
Harry begrudgingly sat up, but not by much; he really was tired.
Snape sneered but didn’t bring it up again as he pulled out a chair from a nearby desk and sat across from Harry. Harry eyed him suspiciously.
“Close your eyes,” Snape instructed.
Harry bared his teeth. “No.” He wasn’t going to leave himself vulnerable to the potential Alpha just because he told him to.
Snape sneered. “If you want me to teach you how to ‘clear your mind’, you need to first close your eyes!”
“I didn’t have to close my eyes when we were actively practicing.” Harry countered, folding his arms over his chest.
“We weren’t practicing the theory then, Mr Potter. Do not defy me. Close your eyes.”
Harry pursed his lips in indecision. “No,” he finally decided. He didn’t want to risk it. He didn’t feel safe.
Snape’s posture tightened, like he was poised to attack.
Harry tensed too.
“Mr Potter,” Snape began sternly. Harry reluctantly looked up at him. He knew he would just make the man even more mad by defying him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes. “Closing your eyes is recommended for this exercise, because visualization is key with occlumency. If you are closely rooted to your physical surroundings, you lose track of what’s going on in your mind. A true occlumens can exist in two places at once: their physical location, and their mental location. Because you are a beginner, it can not be expected that you are able to do so, so you need to focus simply on your mental location.”
Harry frowned. That did make some sense, but… “I didn’t have to close my eyes before. Were you expecting me to exist in two places then?”
Snape sighed. “No. I was expecting you to exist in your mental location, something that was hindered by leaving your eyes open. I was hoping that you could learn through trial and error, since jumping into things head first without a plan seems to be your signature style. However, that is clearly not the case with occlumency, so we will focus on one thing at a time. We start with you closing your eyes and clearing your mind, familiarizing yourself with your mindscape.”
Harry still frowned in indecision.
Snape sighed again. “I can close my eyes too, if that would make you feel better about it.”
“How would I know your eyes are closed?” Harry demanded.
Snape looked at him. “You will simply have to trust me, Mr Potter.”
“But I don’t trust you!” Harry exclaimed, standing up. “How could I possibly trust you after how horrible you’ve been to me all these years?!”
Snape watched him as he paced back and forth. Now would be the time where he usually yelled at Harry and accused him of having a privileged life and not knowing what a truly horrible person looks like. He’d probably threaten to give Harry something to be scared of.
However, instead of doing the expected, Snape folded his hands calmly in his lap and continued looking at Harry. “And how horrible have I been to you, Mr Potter?”
Harry stopped his frantic pacing. “What?” Oh, God. He knew he’d made a mistake. He’d practically insulted Snape to his face! And the man was being way too calm about it. He was probably planning all the ways he would torture Harry as the spoke.
“Well, Mr Potter?” Snape prompted. “What have I done to you? Let’s tally it up, shall we?” He held out his fingers and started counting on them. “I called you a celebrity on your first day—a simple fact that you are well aware of. I asked you advanced potions questions—something it is my job to do. Yes you weren’t expected to know the answers as a first year, however I did not punish you for your lack of knowledge. Later that year, I saved you from being thrown from your broom by Professor Quirrel, and how did you and your friends repay me? By lighting me on fire and accusing me of not only trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, but also of attempted murder.
“The next year when you were caught at the scene of the first petrification—Mrs Norris—I acknowledged that you were likely in the wrong place at the wrong time. I also vanished the snake that Mr Malfoy had summoned in order to prevent it from attacking Mr Finch-Fletchley and reflecting badly on your communication with it. The next year, I confronted someone who I believed to be a mass murderer, because he had attacked Mr Weasley and I thought he was trying to kill you. Later that same evening, I stepped in front of a werewolf to protect you and your friends.
“Last year, when your name was pulled from the Goblet, I tried to insist that you should not participate in the life-threatening tournament. I also tried to swart Rita Skeeter’s attempts at interviewing you, not that you’d know that. I also endured the torture of being burned through my Dark Mark when the Dark Lord was revived, because I knew that I would need to maintain my position as a spy when the time came, which it has. This summer, I have redirected the Dark Lord’s focus away from you and towards the ministry. A less-than-ideal solution, however one that keeps you safe for the time being.
“I did all of this at great personal risk and pain, Mr Potter.” Snape finally stood and towered over Harry, glowering. “I suspect you now know the pain of the Cruciatus curse, Mr Potter. I will tell you that I have endured that curse countless times in my life because of my dedication to protecting yo— your generation” his voice stuttered, almost imperceptibly. “So my apologies,” he spat, “if I have treated you bitterly. But I can’t help but think that I have done you a great many services, and perhaps you should be grateful—” he poked Harry in the chest, and Harry stumbled back. “—rather than continuing to accuse me of wishing you harm.” The man was fuming by the end of his rant, and Harry’s heart was racing.
It was true, Harry started to realize. Snape had always tried to protect Harry, even if he’d gone about it in a mean way. How could someone be so unkind yet so—dare he say it?—good? Harry’s heart thumped painfully in his chest as he realized that he was grateful. He could trust Snape.
His heart throbbed, and he felt the fever of his heat grow. Suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion, he collapsed forward into Snape’s arms, now sure that the man wouldn’t hurt him.
“What— Mr Potter! Cease this at once!”
Harry just hummed, too tired to stand properly. Harry nuzzled the professor’s chest and inhaled, and there, ever so faintly, he could smell it. The comforting scent of an alpha. And alpha who would protect him. His alpha. His pack.
“Alpha,” Harry whispered, wrapping his arms around the man.
The man hesitated, his heart stuttering under Harry’s ear, before he returned Harry’s hug tentatively. “Stubborn brat,” he sniped, but it had no real heat. Harry was sure he was beginning to feel the pack bond too. They might not have liked each other, but they were pack. “Don’t you know Miss Tonks is an alpha?” His alpha questioned. “Why couldn’t it be her?”
Harry just nuzzled further into his alpha, trying to collect the scent that the man must have hidden with blockers. Harry didn’t even realize he was purring, until he felt the older man’s responding rumble reverberate through his chest right into Harry’s pleasantly sleepy head.
With his alpha’s arms tight around him, Harry felt content. Now that he had a dependable alpha to protect him—now that he had a pack to spend his heats with, to bond with, he knew he would be fine, even if he ended up being resistant to the heat suppressants like Bones in Hufflepuff. Heck, Harry purred louder, his heats might even be enjoyable if they meant he could cuddle with his alpha.