Chapter 25

Harry woke with a start, sitting bolt upright before he even realised where he was. He blinked, momentarily confused by the blurry and unfamiliar surroundings. The evening's memories surfaced, and with them his stomach constricted painfully. His hands fumbled hastily for his glasses, which had somehow ended up on the coffee table. The world came sharply into focus as he pushed them on, head swinging around. No, he was alone.

That calmed him a bit. He took a shaky breath, trying to push away the sudden urge to get out.

What the hell was wrong with him? He hugged his knees up to his chest, pulling the blanket over his shoulders. How could he have let that happen? Let Snape see his nightmares, wake the man up not once but three times? He knew that he spoke in his sleep. That was part of the reason he was in this desperate situation. Had this man heard anything? He'd been dreaming of Sirius, the same dream that always haunted him, of running down the dark corridor after the man he loved so much. Surely if he'd said anything it would be about him... He felt sick. He was hoping that he could hide his shame, his weakness behind his guilt over the godfather he had killed.

And the vision...

His hands were shaking again. He knew Snape would be angry. How could he not be? He had said explicitly that Harry wasn't supposed to have them. The man wasn't going to want excuses that Harry tried to clear his mind before he slept, tried to built his mental wall to protect his sleeping mind. Harry was hardly going to tell him that he did his best not to fall asleep, to not have to face his nightly ordeal. That between the nightmares and visions he couldn't remember the last time he had slept properly. Except this night, but what probably amounted to a drug induced coma hardly seemed to count.

Perhaps he should leave now. He would be able to slip out into the dungeons. It was early morning, no one would be about. His eyes landed on the wooden door near the kitchen. It looked like a front door, set in a tiny entrance hall that opened into the sitting room where he sat. He hadn't noticed it the night before. The thought of waiting around to see his professor, to explain the previous night... Dread curled in his stomach. On the other hand he was pretty sure Snape would be livid if he left without his permission.

His legs swung off the couch of their own accord. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want the man to ask questions. Everything was coming apart because the man wouldn't let him be, wouldn't let him move past the horrors of the summer. He had picked up his robes, his feet were already taking him noiselessly across the room. He needed to escape this, to cobble the pieces of himself back together before he became completely undone. That same vulnerable, weak feeling that had been so close to the surface for so long was building up again. He would worry about Snape's wrath later, when he didn't feel like he was going to shatter at the lightest touch. Even as he thought it, his steps faltered. Snape was going to be furious. His hand found the door knob, gripping it tightly. He twisted, and the mechanism jerked, but didn't move.

Locked.

Of course it was.

He lent his forehead on the cool wood, his hand still clutching the smooth round handle. Just for a moment, his fingers twitched, wanting to reach for his wand, to make it open, before reason kicked in.

What the hell was he doing? The doors operated on Snape's wards no doubt. The man would know he was trying to open it. And even if he made it out into the dungeons, and didn't get horribly lost, there would be questions about why he had left. What had he run from? Why hadn't he waited for Dumbledore's signal that all was well? How could he explain why he couldn't stay? That he was too afraid, too weak... What if Dumbledore wanted to know why he hadn't stayed, and Snape decided to tell him? His grip on the handle tightened. He wanted to beat at the door, to scream, to do anything. Anything else to get out of this mess. Anything but stay here. His other hand came up, fist balled, but he checked himself before it landed, laying it softly on the wood instead. He was trapped by his own inability to cope, to be strong enough.

He took a deep breath, trying to still his racing heart. This had to stop. He forced his hand to release its death grip on the knob. This wasn't the way out. He was going to make everything worse, with these panicked decisions. His head felt clearer. Maybe it was sleeping for longer than an hour or two. He took another breath and pushed himself off the door. He stared at the grain, watching how it swirled along the surface. He would be strong. He was strong damnit! He was going to get through the next few hours without crumbling like a castle made of sand. It didn't matter how angry Snape was, he wouldn't hurt him. Not with the Headmaster expected. He faltered again for a moment -two of the most perceptive men he knew were going to be in the same room, looking at him. Taking another deep breath, ignoring the slight sob that caught in it, he balled and relaxed his fists again. He would cope. Nothing was going to happen. He was strong enough. If they asked any questions he would tell them it was just his grief over Sirius. His heart twinged painfully. Did Sirius know that he was saving Harry again? Or was he horrified that his godson was using his death to mask his shameful weakness?

Wiping away the lonely tear silently winding its way down his face, he turned around and walked back to the couch.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

Severus stood quietly in the doorway of the passage, a silent spell helping the shadows to conceal him, watching the scene play out in front of him. He watched Potter bolt for the door and jiggle the handle, only to discover it was locked. He watched while Potter struggled with himself, head lent hopelessly against the door and hand still gripping the door knob. He watched while Potter took a deep breath, trying to wrestle his panic and other desperate emotions under control, and finally turn around to walk back to the sitting room. He watched the boy sit and bury his head in his arms, forehead resting on his knees.

Severus stepped back silently, giving the boy some privacy. Potter had obviously decided against trying to run. Not that he would have succeeded. But it was not the point.

He pondered briefly why locked doors seemed to pose such trouble for Potter, when the most elementary magic could open them. Not that his doors would be compromised by something as simple as "alohomora", but Potter didn't even try. He never had.

He glanced at his pocket watch, the hands declaring it to be 5 o'clock, and silently withdraw.

/\/\/\/\/\

Harry kept taking deep breaths, trying to get into a steady rhythm. He focused on emptying his mind, which was difficult considering the emotional turmoil he had been in a short while before. He wanted to build up his mental defences, to add another layer of protection before Snape got up or the headmaster arrived. He tried to let the thought slide out of his mind before it set off his anxiety again. Painstakingly slowly he started to imagine his wall. High and grey, much like the muggle prison walls he had seen on TV. He imagined it in as much detail as he could, trying to stick the image permanently. He tried to open his eyes and the image flickered unsteadily. He kept going. He could do it. He had to.

/\/\/\/\/\

Severus padded silently down the corridor once more. It was decidedly quiet, which after the turbulence of the night worried him. He paused before entering his sitting room, trying to discern what had changed. Potter was sitting on the couch, his head still resting on his arms. The boy was occluding, which explained the total silence, which for Severus was much more profound than just the lack of noise.

He took a moment to strengthen his own shield and walked into the kitchen, purposefully making his feet heard on the tiled floor. Predictably, Potter's own shield collapsed, as the boy's head jerked up, momentary panic washing over him. He walked calmly though to the sitting room, and sat down in the arm chair facing the couch.

/\/\/\/\

Harry cursed himself under his breath, trying to steady the thundering of his heart and still the queasy twisting of his stomach. Strong, he was strong. Nothing was going to happen. He tried to pull his wall up, trying to put it back how it been. He felt the morning's earlier distress rearing up, and desperately pushed it back down.

"Potter." Snape nodded at him as he walked into the sitting room, seating himself on the opposite armchair.

"M-morning sir" Harry hated the stammer. Why was it suddenly so hard when the professor's black eyes were on him? Snape reached into his robes pulling out his wand. Harry tensed.

"Tea?"

Harry looked at him non-pussed "Sorry, sir?"

"Tea, Potter. Would you like a cup?"

/\/\/\/\\/\/\

Severus was somewhat amused. He could almost see the cogs turning, to try understand what, for Potter, must have seen a bizarre situation. Sitting in his Potion Master's sitting room at the break of dawn being offered a hot beverage by a professor he spent a lot of time trying to escape. He summoned the tea from the Kitchens with a flick of his wrist. Levity aside, he had seen Potter's flinch as he pulled out his wand.

The tray materialised on the table, two mugs and a pot of tea, already steeping. Calmly he lent forward and poured himself a cup. He sat back, motioning for the boy to help himself.

Hesitantly Potter did so, hands fumbling the mug. Severus held back a sigh. The boy was already so anxious. And he was still wearing his amulet. He let it slide.

"I want to discuss last night, Potter"

Potter looked up at him, anxiety twisting his features. Severus caught the flicker of his mental shield for a moment. The boy was about to reply when a silver apparition materialised through the wall.

"All clear" sounded Kingsley's deep calm voice.

Almost simultaneously, there was a knock at the door.

Severus put his mug down, and reached for his wand.

"Come in."

The door opened, and the Headmaster walked through the door looking unconcerned.

Severus did not fail to notice the sudden spike in Potter's anxiety, as he tried to turn to keep both men in his vision.

"Good morning, Severus." Dumbledore spoke as if there was nothing out of the ordinary, before tipping his head to Potter. "Harry."

"Morning Headmaster" Potter responded lightly. Severus was once again impressed, begrudgingly, at the boy. You would never guess he had been an emotional wreck an hour earlier. It was like flicking a switch. As soon as other people around, Potter managed to pull it together like nothing was wrong. Although despite the charade, the headmaster's dangerously perceptive eyes were fixed on the boy longer than was necessary.

"The all safe has been sounded. There was some duelling near the village but the Deatheaters have been driven off. They did not breach wards."

"Any casualties?" Severus asked, watching Potter from the corner of his eye.

"None. And no reports of disturbances from the students either." He turned to Potter, "Harry, breakfast will be held late this morning, and lessons will resume in the third period."

"Yes Headmaster."

"Severus, if you would see me once you have your own house settled?"

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Come Harry, I'll walk you to your tower."

"Yes, Headmaster."

The boy stood quickly, picking up his robes and following the man from the room. Severus didn't miss it for what it was: Potter had gotten his chance to escape.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

"The rest of the school is still in the Great Hall, Harry. They'll be going back to their dorms in a short while." Harry walked next to the older man, not sure whether the comment required a response. The man looked at him, "Did you see anything last night?"

Harry's heart squeezed anxiously as the irrational thought came to mind that Dumbledore knew about the evening's events. He took a breath and shoved the thought away, nodding his head instead.

"Do you have any questions you would like to ask?" The man sounded so calm, as he looked at Harry.

He thought for a moment. "I don't understand why he attacked the castle, sir." He ventured.

"I suspect it is a show of strength. That his followers would be brazen enough to attack the school and village."

"You said there were no casualties, sir."

"There weren't as far as we know. What did you see, Harry?"

"He was torturing a boy. Well, a man, but very young."

"Voltemort himself did not participate in last night's raid. What you saw must have taken place elsewhere." The Headmaster's eyes were piercing. "How often do you have visions Harry?"

Harry's insides squirmed, although he forced his voice to stay steady. "Still most nights sir."

"You are still having lessons with Professor Snape?"

"Yes sir."

"And your combat training?"

"I've learnt some of the basics. Professor Snape makes me practice with Occlumency sometimes with that as well."

"Very good." They had arrived at the tower. The Fat Lady curtsied at the Headmaster before opening.

Harry clambered through the portal, immensely glad to be alone. Much like Snape, Dumbledore was extremely perceptive and Harry constantly felt like they were taking more from his words than he wanted them to. He drudged up the stairs to the dorm to fetch his toiletries and went to the bathrooms to shower. His wrist throbbed terribly. He locked himself in a bathroom stall and slipped his amulet over his head. As soon as the strap slipped over his head a sharp purple welt showed up, vivid against his pale skin. He felt it ginger, deciding it was just bruised. He must have hit his arm on Snape's coffee table last night. He slipped his amulet back on, then walked into the shower to try wash the previous evening away.