Snape cooly picked himself up from his spot on the floor. For the second time in his life, he could not put his occlumency shields back up. He glanced at his arm, then at the cabinet. He made up his mind as he walked across the room and roughly thrust open the cabinet. He looked for the liquor to do the job. He had quite the collection of liquor, typically reserved for company or nursed slowly after a particularly bad cruciatus, but tonight, tonight was different.

Pinot noir, amaretto, elf-made wine? No, too formal and he wouldn't get drunk quickly as a rum or whisky. Maybe a cherry brandy? No, not today. It was out of season, and he wanted something that would hurt him and numb his mind simultaneously. He rummaged for a few minutes before he finally found something at the back of the cabinet, a drink collecting dust. He blew on the bottle before wiping it to reveal the name on the label: 'Ogden's Old Firewhiskey' and slightly below that, it read 'high proof'. This would do the trick.

He hesitated for a moment; was he like his father? Getting drunk to avoid his problems? No, he needed this. He needed the burning against his throat, the heat in his chest, and the fogginess in his mind. He needed to forget, if only for a fleeting moment. With his nimble hands, he poured a glass with exactly the right amount and sat at the armchair near the hearth. He took a long sip, deep in contemplation. He sighed, placed the glass down, and steepled his fingers.

Suddenly he picked it back up and knocked back the entire glass, feeling the Firewhiskey singe his throat. Fire erupted in his chest, and a heat engulfed his abdomen. 'Fuck' he thought. It was working too well. After two more drinks he stopped, feeling his emotions wash away. He brushed his teeth to get rid of all traces of his mistake. Now the only thing remaining was an overwhelming guilt. He drank with a child present, knowing full well what alcohol could do. He was no better than his father. No, he was worse. Much worse.

He took a shower. Cold water trickled down his face, forming small rivulets that cascaded down his lanky figure. He paced the length of the shower with long strides. His onyx eyes were focused solidly on the floor. After half an hour of pacing he got out of the shower and dried himself off, leaving his hair slightly damp. Water dripped gently onto the collar of his undershirt.

Returning to his study, he moved the Firewhiskey to the back of the cupboard and shattered the whiskey glass against the wall. He repaired it with a quick 'reparo' before throwing it again as hard as he could against the floor. Panting, he banished the glass and its spilled contents. Never, ever again would he drink. He felt no remorse destroying the glass, only relief that he had one less bad memory in his quarters. The queasiness he felt in his stomach subsided a bit, and the guilt dulled.

He walked to his bedroom and put on a pair of all black pyjamas. The satin felt soothing against his burning skin, still hot from the Firewhiskey. He lay on his four post bed with black, white, and green sheets, staring at the ceiling in its infinite blankness. He felt sleep beckoning him, and as he drifted off he remembered the child's dose of dreamless sleep he gave to Harry, hoping tonight would be a peaceful night.

Harry's sleep was interrupted as the dreamless sleep wore off, and the silent black of nothingness shifted into nightmare.

Lockhart stood over his sleeping figure. Harry awoke when he was roughly kicked in the ribs, by Lockhart.

"Wha-Why are you here? I thought you were at St. Mungo's ward for the insane!" His pupils dilated and his breathing quickened.

"You told Snape. And I told you not to tell."

"I'm sorry i-"

"Sorry isn't going to cut it. You know what happens to little boys who tell."

"No! Please, please! I'll do anything! Not again, anything but that!"

"As appealing as that sounds, Harry, I'm afraid I cannot do that. You know the rules." His eyes glistened evilly, and a malicious, manipulative grin appeared on his face. He ripped the robes off a screaming and flailing Harry, but he was too weak to fight back.

"Now now, Harry, there's no need to struggle. You know what will happen to you." Lockhart removed his own robes before roughly grabbing Harry and bending him over.

"NO! NO! STOP, STOP, STOP, PLEASE IT HURTS!" He wailed, hoping that someone, somewhere, anywhere would hear his pleas and save him, for he could not save himself.

Snape awoke with a start, sweat beading down his forehead, heart pounding in his chest. He checked the time, 3:14 A.M. He wasn't sure if he would be able to get back to sleep after that nightmare. It was one of his worst memories, one that he had failed to disclose to Harry. He didn't need to know. He glanced at his arm, covered by loose pyjamas and a blanket.

Suddenly he heard a loud noise coming from the living room. Screaming, he heard incoherent, guttural screaming. He grabbed his wand and was up like a flash, running to the source of the sound as fast as his legs could take him. His head pounded with the beginning of a hangover. He halted as he arrived at his destination.

Harry was flailing his legs and arm and attempting to fight off an invisible figure, but the boy was clearly not awake. He remembered the half dosage of dreamless sleep, inwardly cursing his stupidity for believing that Potter would need less than an adult dose after what the boy had been through.

"NO! NO! STOP, STOP, STOP, PLEASE! IT HURTS" Harry cried out loudly, shocking Severus. The boy really wasn't kidding when he said that he got no sleep. He stopped kicking and curled inwards on himself, giving up.

"Harry." Snape said loudly, trying to stir Harry from his unrestful slumber. Harry began to mumble and sob.

"Harry." He said a little louder, getting closer to Harry. It had no effect and he continued to sob. Harry started grabbing pieces of his own hair and pulled on him in visceral and raw emotion.

"Harry!" Snape yelled, placing a hand on his shoulder. Harry immediately woke up and nearly landed a right hook to Snape's nose, only missing because of Snape's quick side step.

"W-huh- Snape?" His bleary eyes filled with terror fervently glanced around the dark and dimly lit room, the only source of light being the fire in the hearth.

"I gave you a child's dosage of dreamless sleep. Clearly that wasn't enough." Snape stated wryly.

"I'm not a child!"

"You may not feel the part, but physically, you are a child." 'Damn him for being so right!' Harry thought to himself. Silence fell upon them, but this time it was Harry's turn to break it instead of Snape's.

"I'm sorry professor."

"What on earth for?"

"Waking you. I normally cast a silencing charm and I didn't tonight and-"

'A silencing charm?' Snape thought, nearly confounded by the regularity at which the nightmares occurred to the point where, every night, Harry had to conjure a charm to silence his screams. If he went to St Mungo's and Lockhart was wandering those white and sterile halls, he would make damn sure they would be painted red before he left. Harry was cut off as Snape retreated to grab more dreamless sleep for Harry.

"This is the rest of the dose, it should last you until about," Snape briefly glanced at his watch. "7:21 A.M. You need the rest, and I would suggest that you drink it."

Harry, still a trembling mess, knocked back the potion.

"Thank you, professor. I-" But Snape never got to hear the end of the sentence before the boy drifted back to sleep.

"Oh Merlin." He mumbled quietly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He stumbled back to his room and his four post bed, knowing full well that he was in for, yet another sleepless night.

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Ok so that's the chapter! I'm thinking maybe SH Harry in the future chapters, but let me know what y'all think!