Chapter 55:

Nightmares:

"Please, mean man, don't hurt me."

The huge, hazel eyes were drowning in tears. Tears that poured down the child's soft cheeks. The girl's voice was shaky and ragged with heavy sobs whilst she pleaded with him, pure terror and fear in every syllable. A fear of being hurt. A fear of what she had been forced to witness, but could not understand. Fear of the instinctive knowledge that soon something horrible would happen to her, something she could not comprehend in her childish innocence.

He was kneeling on the ground, positioned on all fours in front of a battered bowl with mouldy, maggot-infested bread. He knew that he should be hungry, but at the moment his dominant feeling was disgust. Disgust and gut-clenching fear of what his sub consciousness knew would happen.

He could not eat this. His stomach would rebel and the child would die.

A sneering voice reverberated from everywhere around him. Lucius Malfoy came into view, emerging from behind the girl, a knife in his hand, cutting her throat open with a single fluid movement. The tear-filled eyes widened with horror, surprise and pain, and from the girl's throat sprang a fountain of tiny, white, maggots. Millions of maggots. The wriggling flood would not cease and was moving incessantly towards him over the floor like a white, thick, and suffocating tide. With a scream, Severus jumped to his feet and staggered backwards, only to end up on his behind. The wave of writhing maggots moved closer and closer, and Severus slid backwards as far away as he could until his back made contact with a wall, making any further retreat impossible.

They would soon reach him, bury him, eat through his defenceless body, and devour him alive.

In helpless panic, he covered his head with his hands and brought his legs close to his chest, making himself as small as possible, trying to merge into the wall.

It was two days after the start of Christmas break and Harry's arrival at the hut. Much to Sirius' dismay, Poppy had not given her okay for transferring Snape to headquarters yet, although he did tolerate magic very close to him by now, as well as weak potions which were regularly administered to him. The Mediwitch had explained that he first had to build up enough strength for the straining transport by portkey. The Aurors had left the school only one day before the beginning of the holidays because a certain Mundungus Fletcher had started the rumour in certain circles that Snape had been seen repeatedly in Knockturn Alley. Promptly, more witnesses came forth, suddenly claiming to have seen the man lurking in a dark corner or disappearing down a gloomy side-alley. Tonks' skills had often come in handy and were also an enormous help as of now.

At least now that all the Death Eater houses were cabled and the Order was not searching for new potential hide-outs anymore, its members were able to dedicate themselves to the 'less urgent' tasks, like the Snape-problem. Nevertheless, Sirius was more than frustrated. For the very first time, he would finally have been able to spend two full weeks with his godson, but instead he had to look after Snape time and time again, all because the man was not yet well enough for transport. If he had not known better, he would have suspected the greasy git was doing it on purpose, just to spite him.

This time, Harry and Sirius were at a game of chess when they heard a scream from Snape's room, followed by a loud thud.

"Hell and damnation! Can one never have a single minute of peace in this goddamn place?" Sirius swore, while jumping to his feet and hurrying up the stairs towards the Slytherin's room, Harry close at his heels.

The sight that greeted them in Snape's room, however, made them stop dead in their tracks. The bed was empty, and the Potions master was cowering on the floor, his body pressed hard against the wall, shielding his head with both hands and whimpering softly, his entire body trembling.

"What ..." Harry began, too shocked to continue.

"Nightmare. Three times damned," Sirius answered curtly, and then approached the cowering man. "Snape! Wake up!" he ordered as he crossed the room. Snape only reacted by trying to squeeze up even closer, his whimpering increasing in volume. Sirius glanced over at Harry who was still standing by the door visibly shaken staring at his Potions teacher with his mouth agape.

Bending down, Sirius shook Snape none too gently by the shoulder. "Wake up already ... SNAPE!"

Finally, the whimpering stopped. Hesitantly, Snape lowered his hands and stared at Sirius, whilst recognition slowly lightened in the widened eyes.

"Black?" Snape's voice was shaky, and for a moment the man seemed to be unsure whether it truly was Sirius bending over him or if he was still caught in his dream.

Snape looked around, and at seeing Harry, his face contorted into an angry grimace within a fraction of a second as he was catapulted back into reality. "What are you two doing here?" he hissed.

"Believe me, we aren't particularly eager to hold your hand when you are having bad dreams either, Snape," answered Sirius no less unfriendly, and Snape briefly lowered his gaze but did not retort.

Finally recovering from his initial shock, Harry rushed over to Snape and kneeled down at his teacher's side. "Come, Professor. We'll help you back to bed." He extended one hand to the wizard on the floor in a well-meant gesture of piece, well aware of the fact that Snape would not be able to grip it with his injured hands, but the Potions master only stared at him with utter loathing in his eyes.

"I definitely don't need your bloody help, Potter," he spat at the youth. "How dare you be here at all! Even if you were the last living human on earth, I wouldn't want your help! DAMN, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE OR I SWEAR YOU'LL REGRET EVER HAVING SET FOOT INTO THIS ROOM!"

Harry drew back his hand as if he had burnt himself.

"Yes, of course, Snape, and with your feet and hands you'll surely make it back to bed on your own, no problem," Sirius remarked sarcastically, although with less edge to it than before. "Nothing but empty threats. Or do you prefer to spend the remainder of the night on the floor? No, just forget that. Not after I've had to sacrifice all those dozens of nights of well-earned sleep only to make sure you wouldn't get bed sores. Harry, take his other arm." With this command, and before Snape could react, he had already gripped Snape's left arm, and together with Harry, who took his right arm, he lifted the sick wizard to his feet and more carried than supported him back to his bed, where they left him sitting on the edge after Harry had rearranged the rumpled sheets with his wand.

Snape was clenching his teeth and seemed to be in great pain after having had to support some of his weight on his injured feet. His breathing came in heavy, forced pants. He still had hardly any strength and was much too light for his height, Sirius observed critically.

"You bastards. Enjoying yourselves tremendously, aren't you, Black?" gasped Snape. Sirius only smiled, but did not respond. They helped the man lie down, and Snape was too exhausted to put up a fight.

Harry covered the still heavily breathing and glaring wizard with the blanket, and Sirius measured a few drops of some liquid from a small vial into a teaspoon that still sat on the nightstand from the last dose of Strengthening Potion.

"What is it?" asked Harry, while Snape eyed the vial sceptically.

"Dreamless Sleep Potion."

Snape's eyes widened briefly as he understood.

"But Sirius, won't this be dangerous? Madame Pomfrey hasn't allowed any additional potions yet."

"I, for my part, don't feel much inclined to having our game of chess interrupted once again just so we can put Snape back to bed."

"Did I ask for your help? If only I could, I'd hex the both of you for your interference so you'd never forget it," Snape threatened, seething with anger.

As before, Sirius only smiled and then looked at his godson. "Just you go downstairs, Harry. I'll manage alone now."

The boy nodded and left the room silently, while Sirius turned to Snape again.

"Don't you make a fuss, Snape. I won't let you and your nightmares ruin these few days Harry and I are having together. And they surely aren't that much fun for you, either."

Snape shot Black a murderous glare. However, he let the Animagus administer the drops without protest. Afterward, he turned wordlessly, and with a lot of effort, onto his side, away from Sirius, his face contorted with pain. The Animagus frowned shortly before putting back the spoon and leaving the room.

Sirius had well noticed the relieved expression in Snape's eyes when measuring the drops. He had felt slightly guilty about the trace of satisfaction that had overcome him then. Still, it was becoming more and more obvious that he was correct in his assessment of Snape's mental condition, and the feeling of having noticed something even the great Albus Dumbledore had not was something so rare that he wanted to thoroughly enjoy it. The demons haunting the Slytherin must indeed be horrible. They seemed to tear badly at Snape's sanity and had long ago worn down any semblance of hope and resilience the man might have possessed. Not that he was concerned about Snape in any way. No. He himself could tell a thing or two about demons. In Azkaban, with several Dementors lurking in front of the door of his cell, his sleep had rarely been without nightmares. Anyhow, he was right and Dumbledore was wrong. By now, he was absolutely convinced of that. He only needed to prove it to the headmaster somehow...

But why had nobody else noticed that Snape was acting out of character? Okay, it mostly showed in minor details like, for example, his answers which were so totally unlike the vicious sarcasm and cutting words the Potions master had kept on spouting all-day before his captivity. That must be it. Sirius even provoked him on purpose, but Snape hardly ever responded. He had fallen into an exclusively defensive stance, and that was something Black was not used to at all from the Slytherin.

Well, with his charming personality, the man himself had seen to that nobody in their right mind would make any efforts to befriend him. No wonder no-one had noticed a thing.

Sirius cursed under his breath. Again and again, he had tried to talk himself into that Snape's well-being was of absolutely no concern to him, but deep down he knew that this was not entirely true. For the very first time, part of him, a part he would prefer being able to switch off or erase, did not have the desire to hurt the man. It would have been like kicking a puppy, and this thought alone was highly disconcerting to Sirius. Damn, if he was not on his guard, he might one day end up pitying the Slytherin. How low could he sink, really? Had to be the twelve years of Azkaban. There was no other possible explanation.

T.B.C.

Translated by Persephone Lupin.

Betaed by Slytherin's silver snake and Sadistra