Melted Cheese
The shadows on the wooden rafters of the ceiling seemed to constantly move and shift, grow and shrink and reach towards him with terrible claws or a gaping mouth of teeth. Harry sighed heavily, turned over on his lumpy mattress, and tried to close his eyes and get some well needed rest.
He couldn't though. Everything was moving so fast, everyone was so far away, and he was afraid for them, and Dumbledore was gone, so he couldn't ask him for advice and Voldemort was on the move and if he, Harry Potter, didn't stop him the world as he knew and loved it would be over!
Sleep was a luxury he couldn't allow himself.
With a grumble that meant he had given up, Harry tossed his feet over the side of the bed, and after putting his glasses on, noticed that the light was still on in the hall of the cabin he'd been ushered off to in hopes of keeping himself from all the dark wizards out for his blood. Bunch of bollocks, that.
Outside, in the open concept kitchen, Snape was shuffling about, pulling food from the fridge, wand stuck in the back of his pajama pants, looking oddly relaxed. Harry hovered silently in the hallway, suddenly conscious of the hole in his sock, unsure of what to think of his teacher when he wasn't in sweeping black robes, or within the halls of Hogwarts. Sharp black eyes flicked over to him before he concentrated on the cheese he was slicing.
"Have a seat, Potter."
He did, resting his head against his arms, watching Snape carefully lay slices of cheese on bread and fry two grilled cheese sandwiches on the griddle, as he thought glumly about where Ron or Hermione were. If they were okay. If the other Weaseleys would be alright without him, if the world could get on in the face of so much horror. If Lupin was okay, because yesterday was the full moon.
"Couldn't sleep either, Potter?" Snape asked as he set a sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate before Harry and sat down to his own, eating with small, surprisingly delicate bites and sipping at his apple cider. Harry hummed. What could he say? How could he explain how he was feeling that moment? How could he explain that there was a weight on his shoulders?
Glittering black eyes flicked to him appraisingly, and he felt compelled to explain, even though he couldn't find the words.
"It's just… I'm so…"
"Be quiet and eat your sandwich, Potter." and if one looked closer, it seemed almost as though Snape was smiling and Harry smiled, grinned really, because that was probably the most relaxed thing anyone had said to him in a very long time. Better than "are you sure you're okay, Harry" or "poor thing, go get some rest." And Severus Snape of all people, had no business being relaxed.
But he obeyed, and bit into his grilled cheese sandwich, slurped away at his hot chocolate, content to stay in his teacher's presence, the fire crackling away merrily in the back ground, snow drifting before the frosted window outside. Before he knew it, he was stumbling off to bed, his mind put at ease somehow despite all the worries that had plagued him.
Snape watched him go, finished off his sandwich, and wondered if he would be lucky enough to sleep too.
Owari