The rest of the Easter holls, to the great relief of student and professor alike, seemed to pass with minimal drama, aside from one particular incident in which bits of chicken ended up being thrown across the room and an unusually violent row broke out about the Marauders.
Severus's nightmares persisted, to Minerva's chagrin, and she almost developed a certain routine; after she had heard him go to bed, she would change into her dressing gown and night slippers and take a book with her down the hall, where she read on the floor outside of his door for about forty-five minutes to an hour before the screaming began. (He thought he was savvy, using his unusual talents to cast a nonverbal silencing spell, but unfortunately for Severus she outdid him in their little battle of wits with state-of-the-art wards that negated even his magic). After shaking the thrashing child awake, with more roughness than she would care to admit, she summoned a chilled glass of water, which he usually drank without protest. Many glasses of water were choked and finally swallowed those frigid April nights. Then she would stand and watch him until he fell back asleep. It never mattered how long it took. She waited the whole time, and neither of them said a word the next day.
During the day Minerva and Severus learned to do more than just work. She would force him to take breaks from his potions- which was far more difficult than even she expected- and when she would get exasperated at the picture of the grim child looking forlornly out the window at the spring rain she would shove a novel onto the sill that she thought he would enjoy, including several Muggle ones he had never heard of. To get his revenge, he made her learn how to play Gobstones after she lost a bet. Seeing the slime on Professor McGonagall's face was all the satisfaction he needed, even for a vindictive nature like his. On the Saturday before classes resumed, she even managed to get him to Diagon Alley to buy him some properly fitting clothes, including several new sets of school robes, new slacks, and a casual sweatshirt to wear when he spends time in the common room.
"I'll never be able to afford all this!" He had the audacity to grown, boxes piled so high in his long arms that she couldn't see his face.
She had the even greater audacity to laugh devilishly in return while handing the money over the checkout counter.
It was on the Sunday evening before term resumed that things finally came to a head. It had been an emotional roller coaster of a holiday, and neither of them were willing to stand there confronted with the memory of it, each of them so eager to keep it at an arm's length and pretend that it had never happened despite the fact that after this not even the crisp blue air or the ringing of voices in the London street would be the same, because nothing would be.
And then, of course, there was the even greater fact that neither of them now knew how they were going to survive without this. Severus, unused to being cared for or fussed over or having enough to eat, unused to anyone (but especially the adults in his life) giving a damn, and never having received real, true, and honest love that wasn't manipulative was terrified of how he was supposed to manage to go back to the way things were before. The thought of it terrified him, scared him so much that it was all he could do not to be strangled by it and end it all right there just so he wouldn't have to face it.
For her part, Minerva McGonagall knew that her quarters would feel significantly lonelier without Severus- erm, the boy- there to give her his work to give an approving nod over or a disapproving stare when he revealed his true heathenism at the dinner table. There would no one to tell about the little amusing things she noticed throughout the day, no soft breathing from a mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically exhausted teenager from the next room.
And God knows neither of them wanted to think about what would happen during the summer holiday.
Well, by the time that final Saturday had rolled around, Severus could not bring himself to go to his bedroom even though she had told him at least three times that it was past time. After several rounds of defensive "You're not the boss of me" and "If I am not the boss then why did Slytherin just lose five points?" he finally plopped down in an armchair in the living room under an afghan as if trying to blend into it, using any means possible to try and prevent her from seeing him but black hair surrounding him in a halo of static electricity that rendered his efforts pointless. She smiled when she saw him, shook her head and sat down to do more knitting, deathly afraid of touching him because she knew that in reality sending him away would most certainly destroy every fragile thing she had spent every second of the last week trying to build with this child, this poor broken and abused child who felt so unneeded and unwanted that he had to make himself invisible to get approval.
Somewhere in the world, she knew, was a Severus Snape who was strong and powerful, who wasn't insecure at all but confidant to the point of intimidating, who was brave and heroic and loved to the point of death and was loved in return. A Severus published in journals and with googly-eyed apprentices clinging to his heels and who demanded silence with the raising of an eyebrow. She knew, just knew, that one wrong move on her part could cause that Severus to disappear forever.
She determined she wasn't going to let that happen.
Tonight, no screaming would come from the boney, frightened bundle of blanket.
When the sobs came it was all she could do to rub his back in small and quiet circles, shushing him and trying to get him quiet but never quite succeeding as every few minutes he would give a wracking sob that turned into a hiccup and the tears would come cascading in great mucose-filled sniffles. It was so bad that it almost made her cry too.
Finally, after he had been still for some time, she turned off the lamp by the chair, so the room was illuminated only by her wand light. He had come out from under the blanket, but it was still wrapped around his shoulders as the one final layer of protection he would never be able to afford to get rid of.
"I'm sorry," he began slowly. She shook her head.
"What… what am I supposed to do?"
In that moment, she completely forgot that he was fourteen. He was a child. Her child.
"Nothing, Severus."
And she held him close.
Severus managed to get through his classes the next day more or less alright. He forgot his Divination book and lost ten points for his House but compared to the taunting and harassment he was used to putting up with from the Fab Four he would take the points any day. For some bizarre reason they seemed to be ignoring him all day. Fine by him, no mistake about it- but at the same time it was so suspicious and uncanny that it left Severus in a constant bundle of nerves.
Lily was tactful enough not to mention his trip to the hospital wing, and he was even able to lose himself and get caught up in the long-winded story of her holiday, though it didn't seem very exciting. She scolded him for insulting Petunia, he laughed at her jokes, and things felt the most normal between them they had felt for a very long time. He went back to his dormitory feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction at this and emptiness at knowing that no one would be coming to check on him tonight.
Minerva had been worried at the prospect of him dealing with the nightmares on his own since he hadn't been for a while, but ultimately decided that there was little she could do that wouldn't embarrass him in front of his housemates, especially not being his head of house.
What she couldn't have known was that, after listening to the other Slytherin boys guffaw on and on about literally nothing and all of the hot girls they'd banged during the holiday (yeah, right), Severus pulled the curtains tight around him, cast his silencing spell and quite literally cried himself to sleep.
A/N: Okay. Here's the deal: Most stories have this thing called a plot, but unfortunately this does not. Before I sit down, I quite literally have no idea what's going to happen. That's where you come in. Where do you want this to go? What happens next? Let me know. Again, this is yours, not mine. Let me know if I botched this one too badly. XOXO
