Surreality

By Perse

Chapter 7

oOo

Harry was up the next day, limping a bit and moving slowly as he made his way to classes. He was also rather cranky, not only from the pain, but from the peaceful, dream-free sleep of the night before.

It had depressed him to an almost disturbing point. He felt as if his parents were being taken from him—and he was losing Sirius all over again. But he also felt guilty about Ron, and terrified that Snape and Dumbledore might be right about his dreams.

He felt like crying. To compensate, he was snapping at anyone who got too close to him, friend or foe.

It seemed Draco had some kind of inbuilt radar to know when Harry was already miserable, so he could do his best to make it worse. Harry was actually rather proud of himself when he didn't curse Malfoy into oblivion. And really, he didn't see what all the fuss was about. His hair would go back to normal when the curse wore off. Probably sometime next week.

That, at least, made him smile for a few minutes. Unfortunately McGonagall was nearby, and he had shortly been assigned detention for a week.

With Snape.

Needless to say, this severely dampened the good mood brought on by the shock of pink hair amongst the blonde.

Though honestly, he didn't know quite what to make of Snape lately. Usually, all he could read from the spy was intense dislike. It had been different since the school year started. There was still dislike, certainly, but Snape seemed much more attentive to him. It was almost like…concern.

That confused him greatly. And the day only got worse. He couldn't even look at Ron without feeling worse, so he was avoiding him as much as he could. This seemed to be hurting Ron more than the actual injuries were. When Harry tried to sit by himself at lunch, Hermione confronted him. He yelled at her, and ended up storming out of the dining hall without eating a bite.

Finally, despite knowing that it was a bad idea, he cut Potions class. He simply couldn't face Snape right then…especially considering that Draco would be there. And he had had time to set up some revenge.

That was his justification, at least, as he stole out of the castle. It was a pretty day, and he found himself heading towards Hagrid's hut. The half-giant was heading off with a class of 3rd years, so Harry stayed behind and settled himself into the grass near the hut.

He watched the Dark Forest for a moment before lying back and turning his attention to the sky. His head hurt and he just wanted to rest for a bit. As the clouds drifted lazily by, he soon drifted off into dreamland.

oOo

Harry shook his head in dismay as he made his way towards the two figures wrapped in each others' arms on the lawn. Honestly, he couldn't leave the two of them alone for a moment.

Announcing his presence with a fake cough, Harry didn't bother to wait for them to break apart before he dropped to the grass and said, "You know, most teenagers have normal parents who can either barely stand each other or don't have time for each other. At the very least, they keep their hands off each other in the presence of their kids." With that he wormed his way between them, each of them shifting a bit so he fit nicely. "What did I do to deserve you two?" he teased.

James grabbed him in a headlock. "Oh, just admit it. You love us. You adore us! You'd be absolutely lost without us."

Harry squirmed in the grip, prompting James to muss his hair. "Da-ad! Like it wasn't bad enough on its own!" he whined in reference to the hair. But he was thinking about the words, and how true they were. But he wasn't going to ruin the moment by admitting that. Instead he twisted and threw his weight sideways, making an awkward sort of tackle that landed them both on the ground.

James squawked in surprise, but quickly recovered to try and regain the upper hand.

As they struggled, Lily rolled her eyes. "You're missing the stars," she taunted gently.

As a reflex, they both looked up into the darkening sky, and promptly stopped struggling. It was a very clear night, and out here away from city lights, the sky was gorgeous as the stars popped out.

James disentangled himself from Harry and made his way back to his wife, never taking his eyes off the sky. Harry followed, climbed over his father, and snuggled between them.

The three of them lay silently for a long moment. Eventually, Lily pointed into the sky. "See that star, the brightest one near the moon?"

Harry squinted, then nodded. "Yeah. We've studied that one. We can see it off the astronomy tower, usually without the telescope."

"Do you know the legend about it?"

Harry shook his head.

James took up the story. "Muggles talk about the North star, but Wizards turn to this one. If you go towards that star, it is always supposed to lead you home."

oOo

"Harry!"

"Go away," he snapped, not bothering to open his eyes or identify the voice—until he realized there was a weight on his chest and something breathing hot air against his face.

His eyes popped open as he willed himself not to panic or move.

At first glance he thought it was a monkey—a green, hairless, frog-like monkey. That was strange enough. The little stubs of horns spouting from his head were stranger, as was the large pustule in the middle of his forehead. The long arm that reached for him ended with a webbed hand. Harry winced as the hand was swept over his head, almost as if the thing were petting him.

It was probably a very intriguing creature. Harry, however, was rather too occupied with its teeth to notice anything else. It appeared to be smiling at him, wide mouth open, razor-sharp teeth displayed.

Hagrid was nearby. And really he should have known that was who was calling him; if there was an odd creature around, Hagrid usually was as well.

"I see you met Gerbert," his cheery voice continued, coming closer. "Come along now, Gerbert. Get off of Harry."

Harry could do little but stare as Hagrid took the strange little monkey-frog by one webbed hand and coaxed it away. "Gerbert?" he finally croaked in disbelief.

Hagrid beamed. "Yeah. He's my newest acquisition; a Clabbert. I'm gonna introduce him to the 3rd years in a couple of weeks, when he gets bigger."

"Bigger," Harry repeated dumbly. "He's a baby?"

"Yeah. What do you think?"

Harry managed a wan smile. "Oh, he's great, Hagrid. Um…what exactly does he eat?" Something with teeth like that could not possibly be an herbivore.

"Birds, lizards, little animals." Seeming to catch the meaning after a moment, he gave a hearty chuckle. "Oh, he wasn't going to eat you, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Good."

"I mean, he might have taken a taste, but he certainly couldn't eat you up."

Harry stared at him and the grinning Clabbert for a beat, eyebrows raised. "Er…thanks, Hagrid. That's very comforting."

A new voice from behind Harry interrupted them. "Making new friends, Harry?"

Harry closed his eyes, groaning mentally. Hagrid, meanwhile, beamed at the man. "Afternoon, Professor Dumbledore, sir."

"Good afternoon, Hagrid." After a slight pause, the Headmaster addressed Harry. "Aren't you supposed to be in Potions now, Harry?"

Harry looked up at him but didn't answer, knowing that it was a rather rhetorical question.

Hagrid glanced at Harry, then offered, "Well, we all need a little break every now and again, Professor. 'Specially after Harry's accident yesterday. I'm sure the nap did him a world of good."

Harry winced. He knew Hagrid thought he was helping. He also knew how Dumbledore would react to the news of his 'nap.' He probably should say something in his own defense, but all he could do was look at the ground in contrition.

Dumbledore was generally cheerful, and difficult to read beyond that. But right then, when Harry looked back up, he could easily see the concern and disappointment in the old wizard's eyes. "I'm sorry Harry, but I feel I've little choice left in this matter. You must learn to occlude your mind. Pack a bag with the things you will need for the night. You're going to be staying in the spare room of Professor Snape's quarters."

Harry gaped at him. He'd known they were thinking about it of course. But he'd convinced himself that Snape would never, ever go for it.

oOo

"They're making you what!"

Harry shot Ron a glare as he stuffed some clothes into his bag. "I am now sleeping in Snape's quarters," he repeated, then added more to himself than Ron, "Couldn't live with Sirius, who actually cared for me, but they can make me live with Snape."

"Dumbledore's gone mental!" Ron proclaimed, still in shock from Harry's abrupt announcement as he entered their dorm room.

"Yeah, I think I have to agree with that," Harry said absently. He closed his bag with a violent pull on the zipper and turned to head out of the room. As he came face-to-face with Ron he snapped, "Would you please stop looking at me as if I'm going off to my death?"

Ron winced and paled a bit. "Sorry."

Harry made his way down the stairs, with Ron trailing behind him on the still-healing leg. Harry slowed down himself without really realizing it. By the time they reached the common room he'd taken a few deep breaths and calmed enough to realize that he shouldn't be taking any of this out on Ron. He turned back to his friend. "No; I'm sorry," he said simply. "For everything."

"It's okay," Ron said with a sad smile. "If I were in your shoes, I'd be yelling at everyone too." After a pause he added, "Why don't you just refuse? Dumbledore can't really force you to do this, especially if you tell him you don't feel safe with Snape."

Harry sighed. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because! Because…what if they're right? Ron, I could have gotten you killed yesterday, not to mention nearly getting eaten myself this afternoon."

"You didn't. You shouldn't dwell on what-ifs."

Harry raised an eyebrow at that rather prosaic and un-Ron-like advice, but didn't address it. "Look, I don't want to do this, but..." he shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what to do. And I haven't exactly been given a choice here." Seeing that Ron needed something more, Harry surprised even himself with the truth of his next statement. "And, despite the mutual loathing between us, I'm not afraid of Snape anymore. I don't think he'd hurt me."

"Maybe not so it shows," Ron mumbled.

Harry recognized the protectiveness in his friend. He smiled slightly to show that he appreciated it. "I'll be fine, Ron. And I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, all right?"

The redhead nodded reluctantly. But when Harry turned and climbed out of the Gryffindor common room a few minutes later, he left Ron looking after him in concern.

oOo

"I assure you that this is temporary. You will learn to do this on your own. And the sooner you do, the sooner you are out of my quarters."

Harry nodded absently, more occupied with taking in the appearance of Snape's quarters. The incredibly normal appearance.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. Perhaps bubbling cauldrons on the kitchen table, or dark arts paraphernalia on the shelves. Instead there were numerous books, stacked neatly. The entire place was tidy and clean, and surprisingly light for its lack of windows. It wasn't as dark and dungeon-like as one might expect.

Snape led Harry past one doorway and to a second, declaring his instructions. "You will sleep in here. You may put your things in the closet. The bathroom is over there. Call me when you are ready for bed." This last statement was made with a resigned sigh, as though he'd prefer almost anything to this situation.

For once, Harry wisely said nothing. He was completely out of his element here. He simply nodded and did as he'd been told.

Snape retreated to a chair near the fireplace and pulled out a thick book.

Harry resisted the urge to look through the cabinets and see what strange concoctions his Potions Master might have lurking there. He didn't really want to know. Instead he quickly changed into his pajamas and washed his face. He had fished his toothbrush out of the bag before he realized a problem.

With a sigh of resignation, he slowly made his way out of the bathroom and over to Snape's chair. Though he was certain the man was aware of his presence, he didn't even look up until Harry stood only a few feet away. Harry stopped there and grimaced slightly as he confessed, "I forgot my toothpaste."

"Packing for one night was too much of a strain for you, hmm?" Snape looked back to his book. "You may use mine. Top drawer on your right."

"Er…thank you." Harry stood there for a moment, thinking things were much too anticlimactic, at least for their typical encounters. When Snape didn't look back up again, he turned and wandered back to the bathroom. There he took out the toothpaste tube and spent a good five minutes studying it suspiciously as if it were perhaps spiked with dreamless sleep potion.

Finally he shrugged and squeezed out a miniscule amount of paste onto the bristles. A few minutes later, teeth brushed, he came back out and stood uncomfortably. He felt like a little boy asking to be tucked in, and he was quite unnerved by that image. "I guess I'm ready now."

Snape stood, setting his book aside, and followed Harry into the spare room without a word. He stood in a rather sinister way in the doorway, arms crossed, waiting as Harry climbed into bed.

Once he was settled, the Potions Master strode to the bedside. After a moment of deliberation, he rolled his eyes in a long-suffering manner and sat down gingerly on the edge.

Harry stared at him in a bit of shock that only increased when Snape reached to his face, carefully plucking the glasses from his nose and setting them on the bedside table. Harry felt an odd twinge as the gesture reminded him of his dream in the hospital wing—and Sirius.

Then he thought of what Sirius would say if he knew he were being compared to Snape. And despite the ache in his heart, Harry snickered.

Things were blurry now, so Harry missed the full impact of the dubious glance cast his way. "I cannot imagine what you have found to be amused about," came the cynical voice.

Harry shook his head, thinking that Snape would not find the image near as entertaining as he had. "Nothing. Sorry."

Snape shook his head in exasperation, muttered something about idiotic Gryffindors, and retained a rigid posture that managed to make him look menacing despite the fact that he was sitting on Harry Potter's bedside. "Concentrate, Potter. Close your eyes and focus on pushing thoughts from your head."

Harry tried to comply, really he did. But he found it near impossible to think about nothing. How does one focus on nothing?

"I don't think I can do this," he said after a moment, opening his eyes and trying to sit up.

"Potter," Snape growled, planting a hand on his chest and pushing him back into the pillows.

Harry grunted as the air left his lungs, then glared at Snape. "It's hard, all right?"

Snape glared right back. "Do you suppose that I do not know that from personal experience? The ability to occlude may be the only thing that saves your life. That has been the case for me, more than once."

For some reason, the reminder that Snape relied on these abilities and frequently put his life on the line only made Harry more upset. "I'm not you," he stated with a surprising amount of venom.

Snape snorted—actually snorted. "I believe that went without saying."

Harry clinched his fists in the sheet, more frustrated by the fact that Snape wasn't getting angry with him. "You know what? Maybe I can't do this. Maybe you've been right about me all along! Maybe I am weak. Maybe I always will be!"

He expected a satisfied smirk or a condescending comment. Instead Snape merely looked at him with an unreadable expression and said, "I am afraid that is not an option, Mr. Potter." Dark eyes studied him for a moment before his teacher heaved a sigh. "I assure you, this is no more comfortable for me than it is for you." With that, Snape replaced the hand on his chest, resting it there gently. With his thumb, he began to rub a steady cadence over Harry's breastbone. "I want you to focus on the touch. I don't imagine that part will be difficult. But I want you to let everything else go. Think only about the feel of my hand."

He was right about one thing, it was near impossible for Harry not to focus on the touch. What was hard was relaxing under that touch.

But the motion was soothing. He allowed his eyes to drift shut and focused his attention on the steady, soft sensation.

Eventually, bit by bit, he calmed. His thoughts did not wander, as he remained focused on the hand that remained on his chest.

It did not move until long after he had drifted off to sleep.

oOo

to be continued

Note: The Clabbert is one of JK Rowling's creations, listed in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.

I apologize for the long break before this chapter. Hopefully the rest of the story will be coming much more quickly. Thanks for sticking with me!