Killing Dreams

Chapter 1: The Death of Harry Potter

Summery: I watch as people I care about, as people who meant the world to me, die. I watch as their life drains way – by MY hands. Snape and Harry reach some common ground...

Warning: M for torture and death - explicit content. No slash, some PG romance.

Disclaimer: not mine. Duh.

Update Note: I am continuing this story – it will be straight, no slash for now. Obviously this will be centered on Harry and Snape. They will become friends, not father/son, teacher/student, just friends. Later this may become slash, dunno. We'll see where this leads, but for now consider it not. If it turns that way I'll change it so it says slash. I'll also let the C2 that has this know if/when it goes that way.

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"Crucio," Snape's voice came out a whisper amid the rustlings of the deatheaters cloaks around him. He stood silently at his Dark Lord's side as he watched Harry Potter writhe on the ground in torment.

Harry's back arched backwards and forwards as he twisted. His limbs sporadically tensed and relaxed – shooting out and snapping in when Harry least expected it, sending physical pain through his body to augment the magical pain that he felt. Pain seemed to ignite his nerve endings, his blood, his magic, his being. Pain filled ever pore, every hair turning his body into convulsions as his brain started to shut down from the overload. His eyes were clenched shut against the pain as his mouth betrayed him and opened in a scream, the mouth a round circle, a never ending cycle of pain. His fingers clenched shut so tightly Snape saw drops of blood splatter out from his fists as his arms thrust about. Tears leaked from under his closed eyelids and on Snape watched. He watched as the eyes snapped opened, the sounds of Harry's pain filling his ears and the still silence.

Suddenly Harry's eyes latched onto the black eyes. The green eyes seemed to look through him, into him, not reach him. The eyes showed pain, hurt, betrayal; the eyes asked the unanswerable question – why?

Snape should have felt remorse, pity, sadness, or even sorrow; but he felt none of that. He felt no revulsion, no horrow or fear at what he was doing. He felt the opposite, only one feeling filled his being – joy. Joy at the pain he was causing, at the pain he saw in those eyes, the pain in the bloody marred hands, the pain in the spasming muscles and whip lashing spine. His eyes narrowed in joy as the edges of his lips twitched up – unseen under his mask.

Harry Potter continued to jerk around wildly even when his head hit a rock and Snape saw blood on the rock as the dark hair came away as the head thrashed in yet another direction. He saw the dark, dirty, greasy hair matted with blood. He knew what was going through the boy's head. He knew it as if their minds were one. He had seen it in the second their eyes had locked.

Harry had trusted Snape. Harry has placed his trust and friendship in his Potions Master. And now here he was, ready to die, just to end the never-ending pain caused by him. Not pain that Voldemort caused this time, but instead by Snape. The physical pain almost compared with the betrayal and hurt that Harry felt, almost, but not quite. His brain was narrowing, unimportant thoughts and processes cut out with the exception of random memories and thoughts flitting through the single focused mind. That focus was pain. Pain was his background, his mind, his being, all he saw, all he felt, all he remembered.

The pain, the betrayal, and the hurt all coalesced to form an unending plain of hell, a hell handmade for Harry. A place where physical pain abounded, accenting the emotional pain he felt. He continued living the hell, for he had no choice but to endure since he had no way to end it as he wished fervently he could.

Suddenly the pain stopped. Bliss covered Harry's face as he fell, limbs outstretched, upon the ground. He was grateful to feel the dirt and grass with the nerves in his body instead of only burning pain. His muscles relaxed and his mouth closed into a tranquil line. His eyes blinked their sudden joy and release at the sky. His mind was miles away, he could not order his body up, to grasp his wand, to fight back. He was defenseless – and all of them knew it.

It only made Snape renewing the Cruciatus curse that more harsh. Hope and relief were ruthless squashed and ripped away. The howl that spilled from the lips of the man writhing on the ground would have made grown men weep. But those in the circle were no longer men, they had long ago stripped their humanity from themselves, deriving pleasure from pain. They had become not unlike dementors, and Snape led the attack on their prime victim.

Finally a hissing voice slipped through the howl of pain and torment, "Kill him Severus."

Severus merely nodded once before stepping closer to the writhing mass. He removed the curse and once again Harry collapsed panting to the ground. Snape took one long look at Harry. Harry was looking up at Snape through his hair. His glasses had long since been lost and his eyes only had the blood on his face for framing his eyes. His clothes were a tattered mess exposing the multitude of bruises and cuts that lay strewn over his skin. His arms and legs and body shook as tremors from the sudden release hit him hard. A cold wind picked up and hit the shivering boy harder.

Snape grinned – a grin that was completely evil – a grin that showed no true joy, but joy only arrived at through others pain and suffering. His eyes showed no warmth, no light. Light seemed to be drawn into the dark pools that were his eyes in complete opposite of the way Harry's eyes glimmered and shone with reflected light and light that seemed to come from within him.

Severus lifted his wand, pointing it at Harry and smiled at he spoke two words, "Avada Kedavra."

A green light flashed and in that moment, as unlikely as it was, Severus could feel what he had just done. He felt it all, the pain, the hell that Harry experienced at his hand, the hurt, the cuts, the bruises, the jerks, the hurt, the betrayal. All of the feelings crashed down on him as one overwhelming feeling overrode them all – death. He had just brought death upon Harry Potter. He had ended his life – never more would Harry Potter walk, never more would his laughter or angry shouts echo through Hogwarts, nevermore would his body lean and glide on a broomstick in graceful maneuvers that all saw and appreciated. Nevermore would his smile, his eyes shine forth as he lived, grew, loved, learned, messed up, enjoyed life. Nevermore.

Snape crashed to his knees, his head in his hands.

"NOOOOO!" The shout echoed through Severus Snape's dungeon rooms as he slowly became aware of his reality. He felt the cold stone beneath his knees and the sheets tangled in his legs from falling off his bed. He slowly became aware of the pain blooming in his kneecaps and the cold seeping into his bones. But it was nothing, nothing to the roiling mass of feeling inside him.

The pain of death, of ending that life, or causing that pain was still close, was still to new, to fresh. Tears seeped between clenched fingers as the dungeons remained silent, the only witness to the heaving shoulders and twisting muscles of the Potions Master as he leaned over and released the bile and his stomach as tears continued to pour forth.

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Snape sat at his seat at the head table, he ate automatically, his thought miles away. This part was easy, this acting. This was nothing. Slipping on the mask he wore so long was an easy task, a familiar one. Voldemort was still at large, Harry Potter was in his seventh year and Snape was still helping both of them achieve their own ends. He continued as a Death Eater just as he continued on in his lessons to Harry on Occlumency, Legilimency, dueling, potions, and dark arts. He mainly taught him defence, but in some cases he taught offence as well. He explained history, the people, how they fought, what their weakeness were, spells to use, when and where to take what potions under what circumstances, everything that Snape could teach Harry to help him to survive. Every other day they met at night for Harry to learn as much as he could.

In all that time Snape never stopped what he had been to Harry, a greasy git. He continued to torment Harry in and out of the classroom. But at night, and only then, would he admit to himself that Harry Potter was much, much more than some attention seeking delinquent. He saw Harry try hard, both in class with his studies, spells, and homework as well as out of class with his friends, fans, and teachers. Harry had much more to do than just learn spells and potions and countercurses – he was the savior of the Wizarding World, and as such, he had to provide the Wizarding World with hope, and Harry did this by giving his friends hope. He helped them and showed them that people could still live happily even when times were dark and bleak. He was dating Ginny Weasley, was Captain of the Quidditch Team, and still head of his beloved DA.

His gaze drifted across Harry Potter animatedly talking to his fellow Gryffindors, something about Quidditch he believed. Harry waved a fork, bits of egg flying and hitting Ronald Weasley. The red haired boy friendly whacked at Harry. Harry grinned as he easily dodged and continued his conversation, his green eyes alight with life, with joy.

He had taken that light, that joy – that life. It did not matter that it was in his dreams, he had taken it, squashed it, cut it, torn it apart - and he had ENJOYED it. Severus was so far into his mask that his fingers did not even tighten around his fork. Nothing gave away his troubled mind, nothing-

"Severus, my dear boy, is everything all right?"

-except Albus. "Yes, everything is fine Headmaster." Snape gave the headmaster his usual half glare, half exasperated look before returning to his food. But Albus had successfully destroyed his chain of thought. For the moment, for the moment...

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Severus tossed aside the sheets of his bed before standing up and stalking out of his bedroom. His gaze flitted across the clock as he stalked from his bedroom to the living room – 2 am. He threw himself into a chair by the fire and with a flick of his ever present wand, had the fire crackling away. His gaze was drawn into the flickering flames that all to soon reminded him of the thoughts he was trying to escape – the thoughts that kept him from sleeping. He had long ago found that dreamless sleep did not help his particular situation. Yes, it stopped his nightmares, only to let them come back in twice the force when he stopped taking it. And one cannot live on dreamless sleep – that was not the purpose of such a potion.

After another fruitless two hours of which the flames reminded him of how Harry's body had contorted and how his eyes had shone with reflected light, he gave up. He quickly doffed his night clothes and donned his black robes before leaving his quarters to stalk the school.

He walked the halls for another three hours, unable to even consider sleep.

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The next night was just as bad as the first. For where time had worn away on his memories of the nightmare, imagination had filled in – leaving him with a memory just as horrendous and frightening if not made worse by his continual fear and horror of it.

He continued to stalk the halls when he had finished his days work. He knew if he returned to his rooms what would happen. This scenario was not new to him. The people, the place, the way – yes that changed, but the idea, oh the idea was still there. Snape would hurt the deeply and then kill them harshly – and enjoy every second every time.

He was walking down a corridor when he heard a voice that had haunted his mind – Harry Potter.

"Gin, I'm sorry, but I don't want you to get hurt. And if we're dating, that's a lot more probable." Snape for some reason paused outside the door of the classroom that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley had sequestered themselves into.

"Harry I don't care, I can take care of my-" Harry cut her off.

"Gin, Gin listen to me, please. Death is something I've known for a long time; but every day it is becoming more and more my life."

Severus and Ginny listened silently.

"I've known there has been the possibility of me dying early in life since I was eleven. Just lately I've realized that my early death is much, much more than a possibility and more of a good chance. IT scared the hell out of me, I knew it this whole time, but it hadn't hit me. I mean I was a kid, what kid believes they are really going to die? But now, now I know I am going to have to kill if I want to live. The fact of that time coming closer scares me. Do I kill or do I die? But I know the time is gonna come, no matter how much or how little I think about it."

"Harry how often do you think about it?" Ginnys voice was soft and gentled prodded Harry to talk.

"I think about it during the day when I can't focus on something else. One reason I've been so busy this year. But at night… I dream about it Gin," his voice lowered as his thoughts seemed to drift through his memories, "I've dreamt about both; dying and killing. I've dreamt that I have enjoyed the kill, I've dreamt that I've had to kill people I love, that no matter how hard I plead, I can't stop myself. But there's nothing I can do. And I watch as people I care about, as people who mean the world to me, die. I watch as their life drains way – by MY hands. I watch as I end someone's life, as I not only cut off they're ability to smile to laugh, to trip, but also cut out of piece of everyone they know and who loves them. But one day I realized that dreams are just that, dreams. They aren't me, they aren't what I hold dear or believe. Every ni- in my dreams I feel what its like to kill and find joy in the act." His voice seemed dead, emotionless, as if he had long ago detached this train of thoughts from anything to do with him and what he felt and thought and believed – what made Harry Potter, Harry Potter. "I know the feeling of enjoying death and pain as well as I know the feeling of joy and love. But when I wake up now, I'm glad I've had those dreams, because when I wake up, I feel sick because of that feeling. And I take comfort in the fact that when I wake – when I have control over myself, I can find revulsion in such an act. It helps me separate my dreamworld from reality and me from Voldemort. Dubledore said something like that once, that I can beat Voldemort because I have love, whereas Voldemort doesn't. Gin, I'm sorry, you shouldn't have had heard all that."

There was a pause and Snape was sure that if he cared to look in he would find Ginny and Harry pressed together, tears down their faces.

"No Harry, you need to talk to someone. I'm in a good position and very willing to listen. But Harry, no one knows death and what its like, I'm sure even to you, death is still something new, something scary."

"No Gin, death isn't something new to me. That's just it. I know what it is, I know what can cause it and what can stop it. I'm taking lessons every day on that – one day on how to cause it and one day on how to stop it."

Snape started at that. He had seen Harry with Madam Pompfry and Professor Flitwick more than usual but he hadn't thought about it. They must be teaching Harry about how to heal and stop pain on the days he doesn't have lessons with me.

"Death follows me like a shadow, and until I confront Voldemort, it won't leave. I don't want you and that shadow crossing Ginny. As my friend you are in less danger and likelihood of danger than if you were my girlfriend. Please Gin, try to understand me."

Severus backed off, not hearing Ginny's response, his head whirling with the words of Harry Potter. He had killed in his dreams too? And enjoyed it? And he was glad he had them, because it reminded him of his humanity? Of what he had that Voldemort didn't?

Severus retreated to his rooms to think.

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The next morning at breakfast Dumbledore leaned down the table and said to Snape, "Severus, you're looking much better this morning. I'm glad." His eyes twinkled before he leaned back into his seat.

Severus kept up his mask of detachment on but inside he was once more surprised that Dumbledore had seen him so well. His eyes floated over to the Gryffindor table where in the middle of all the talk two people sat quietly, barely participating in the conversation around them.

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Later that day in Potions class Harry wondered why Snape was going easy on him. He had set himself up for this to be a bad day – first Ginny and then potions. But strangely Snape kept this acid tongue from Harry. Harry didn't get it, but didn't question it either. Snape even stopped Harry from dropping the wormwood into his potion with a verbal diatribe on how he didn't want Harry to blow up his dungeons. He found out from Hermoine later that it wouldn't have 'blown up' his dungeons.

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That night, as Harry panted for breath on the floor after a particularly vicious mental thrust from Snape, he wondered what happened to the leeway he had received earlier.

"Get up Potter! Do you think that your futile attempts will be enough to throw off the Dark Lord?" He waved his wand at the possible future.

"I know alright! I know I need to work on it!" He scrambled to his feet. Snape saw Harry's legs shake as he stood upright.

Snape sneered at Harry once he was fully upright. "Tell me Potter, what will happen if you can't throw the Dark Lord off, hmm? Do you know what he could do to you? You two have a connection so rare, I highly doubt he wouldn't be able to do something similar to the Imperius curse. He could force you to come back here. He could force you to kill all of those ratty kids in Gryffindor Tower!" Snape towered over Harry as he pounded at him verbally. "He could force you to kill every single first year, second year, thurd year, fourth year, fifth year, sixth, and seventh year, and you would feel every sick perverted pleasure he feels! Legilimens!"

This time, Harry fought back like he hadn't before, he cried out while experiencing memories from his past, "No," Duddly was chasing him down the street on his new moterbike, "Those feelings," he was in his cupboard and it was dark, he was nursing hand shaped bruises, "won't be," Cedric was falling down, "MINE!"

And suddenly Harry was in Snape's mind, but Snape was careful, he guided Harry through his thoughts this time. Harry saw the newest dream, saw his death and Snape waking on the floor. He saw his conversation with Ginny through Snape's eyes, he saw his Potions class again, with Snape holding the wormwood and harassing him. Finally, he saw Snape that night – sleeping. Then Snape shoved a shocked Harry from his mind.

They stood staring at each other, panting, their eyes locked, but no mental communication was made, no words were spoken, their bodies gave off no messages – none of that was needed.

Snape nodded once at Harry before standing up, "Now again Potter, and maybe this time you can try to work!"

Harry blinked before standing up straight and with a slight narrowing of his eyes and quirking of his lips repelled the next attack by Snape.

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This was just a sorta pointless one-shot, due to the few reviews I have gotten though, I'm gonna try and roll with this and see where it leads. I have NO idea what's in store for them, so shrug we'll see together. I've started on chap 2 already so well see.

Oh few more bg notes on the relationship thing. They will be friends and I cant see father/son as in this Harry is slightly OOC cuase hes grown up. He is accepting responsibility and looking for meaning in things around him. He doesn't need a dad. And it wont be teacher/student. Well sorta it will, but they'll teach each other, it won't be one-sided.

Tell me if any character goes OOC or something or whatever. I tried hard to keep everyone in character with the exception of Harry being a bit more grown-up. I hope he grows up by the time book 7 comes out!

I hope you enjoyed it!

kit ;)