Chapter 26

"Harry!" Hermione rushed into the boy's dorm and hugged him. He didn't enough time to steel himself so he didn't flinch. Hermione just hugged him tighter

"We were so worried." She mumbled into his shoulder. Ron walked over and clasped his shoulder.

"Gave us a bit of a scare." Ron's look was reproachful.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, his arms still full of Hermione. "I was, in er- detention when the alarm sounded."

Ron raised his eyebrows, and Hermione's head came up. Harry gestured with his eyes to the other boys trooping into the room.

Hermione released him, stepping back to take a good look at him. "Well we better head down for breakfast now. They said we are to start lessons in the third period." She said.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. There was endless talk of the previous night's attack on the village, rumours running wildly about the reason and those involved. Harry tried to excuse himself from lunch, saying he needed to go to the library, but Ron and Hermione went with him anyway. He gritted his teeth and tried to smile instead. He desperately wanted some time to himself. Instead of letting him do the research he needed to do, they interrogated him about what had happened the night before. He endured it, saying that he basically spent the night on Snape's couch, and trying to turn the subject to other things. He frowned when Hermione asked if everything had been alright, not understanding what she was asking, or the meaningful look that passed between her and Ron.

Dinner was unusually noisy, with the school still discussing the previous evening's events. At least he didn't have to face Snape today. There was small comfort in that. He would almost have welcomed the excuse to get away from his two friends, who now appeared hell bent on keeping him in their sight. He, at last, convinced them that they should study in the library after dinner, citing upcoming tests, knowing it would mean they couldn't talk. He wanted some space, some time to himself where he didn't feel like he was being watched over. He was so afraid he was going to slip up. He just needed a little time to pull himself back together.

…

The next day wasn't much better. Snape gave him detention almost as soon as he had walked through the door for talking to Seamus. He scowled, and grumble to his house mates, all of them agreeing that Snape was being unreasonable and singling him out. Inside though, he turned cold. He didn't feel like he could manage another confrontation with his Potions Master.

The day improved little after that. Remus invited all three of them for tea after classes on Friday, which Hermione and Ron happily accepted. Harry forced himself to smile and nod. He could feel the man's eyes following him as they left the classroom. Then during the after lunch lessons, Neville tripped and bumped him into him, grabbing Harry's arm to try stop himself from falling. Harry couldn't stop the yelp of pain that escaped him, as the other boy's fingers wrapped around his bruised wrist, which obviously showed no sign of the damage it bore. Harry pleaded surprise and laughed it off with the boys, who promptly accused him of screaming like a girl. But he didn't miss Hermione's pursed lips, or the way her eyes lingered on his wrist while they took notes.

…

Harry cringed inwardly, as he looked at his watch. It was time for his lesson. He had been dreading it all day. To make matters worse, he snapped at his best friends when they offered to escort him. But he was tiring of being watched over by the two of them. And he had the feeling he was missing something that kept passing between them. He muttered an apology and stalked out of the common room.

He walked cautiously down to the dungeons, taking deep breaths to steady himself. He already knew what Snape was going to ask him about. It would be the same thing he so narrowly avoided speaking about before. The dreams. The visions. Especially the visions. He reached the Potion's classroom, and his hand hovered, hesitating to knock.

He could do this. He wasn't going to panic or freak out like last time. Snape could only be mad at him. But even the thought of that sent chills through his stomach. The man had so much leverage over him. He took another breath. No, he could do this. He took another breath and tried to wrap his wall around his mind, like he had practiced. It was hard to keep in place, but it felt like one more layer of protection, flimsy or not.

He knocked.

"Enter"

/\\/\/\/\

Potter entered hesitantly, not looking directly at him. He looked up from the paper he was marking, gesturing for the boy to sit. He looked pointedly at him, until he slid the amulet off over his head, stowing it in the pocket of his robe. Severus was surprised to feel the slightly numbing effect of the boy's mental shield. It was weak, but there.

"I would like to discuss your visions, Potter." he said without preamble. Potter didn't answer, looking at him with a blank face. Severus could see his hands were gripping his robes tightly.

"I don't want to talk about them, s-sir."

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

Harry got the words out reasonably unaffected. He didn't want Snape to see how anxious this made him. That he hadn't been in his office for 2 minutes, and already wanted to get out. His hand slid up to his bruised wrist, squeezing a bit. The pain helped him focus.

/\/\/\/\/\

"It wasn't a request, Potter." Severus said sharply. Potter caught himself before he flinched. Severus could see the effort it was taking for him to stay calm. Well not see perhaps…feel. He could feel the barely concealed fear that lay just beyond Potter's thin mental shield. He could feel how Potter was struggling to keep that shield in place.

At least, he thought to himself, he was trying to occlude. That the boy was trying at all, spoke to Severus of how desperate, how vulnerable he must be feeling. He didn't know that Severus had witnessed his panic in the early hours of the previous morning, that this façade was meaningless.

"Tell me about the visions."

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

It was a trap. He should never have let himself fall asleep. None of this would have happened. He didn't want to talk about it, to give Snape any openings. He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself before everything spiralled out of control. "W-what do you want to know, sir?" The words came out with relative composure.

Snape raised an eyebrow sardonically. "How often have you been having them?"

"Most nights." He tried to sound detached, like he wasn't afraid what Snape's reaction would be.

The man's lips pursed into a thin line. "What do you see?"

Harry hesitated. He didn't understand what the man wanted, or why it mattered.

"I-" Snape was watching him so intently, so relentlessly. "Things" he muttered.

"Potter." the man growled ominously.

But he didn't want to talk about it. Didn't want to tell the man about the awful scenes that played out every night in his mind. That there were times when he could feel the Dark Lord's insane pleasure at the power he wielded, at the pain he was able to inflict. Or that he could feel the agony ripping through the hapless victims' bodies as they were cursed. That he had seen it happen more than once to Snape, when he displeased Voldemort. "I see people being tortured, mostly." He mumbled.

"Is that what you saw the other night?"

"Yes." he looked at his hands.

The man was looking at him, in that way that made him feel like he was completely exposed. He realised his mental shield had dropped. He hastily tried to erect it again, but it was difficult when he was increasingly feeling the need to put space between himself and the professor. He gripped his wrist harder and the pain shot up his arm.

"And you did not think to mention this during your lessons?" The man asked waspishly.

Harry ceased the anger the question bought on. He felt trapped. And scared. And he didn't understand what the man wanted from him. And being angry was better than the feeling suffocated by fear. "How would it have helped?"

"Potter, why am I giving you occlumency lessons?" The tone was acerbic. He could feel the Potion Master glaring at him.

"To get Voldemort out of my head."

Snape hissed at the name, making him flinch. "Yes Potter, and to keep you out of his," he snapped. "Why did you not tell me?"

"Because I'm not supposed to be."

"I am trying to help you Potter." The man said severely. "You are making it exceedingly difficult."

The response inflamed the anger he already felt. He hadn't asked for Snape's help. He didn't want it. And that didn't matter one bit because Snape had the ultimate trump card. If he didn't cooperate he would tell Harry's secret. He didn't get a choice. He glared at his hands.

"Why did you not say you were having visions?" The tone was only slightly less acidic.

His stomach dropped at the question. The anger evaporated. What was he supposed to say? He would not admit to being afraid of the man again. He was going to be stronger than that.

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

Severus paused, taking a breath. The boy was so frustrating. Nothing was given freely.

"Did you think you would be punished because of it?"

Potter didn't reply immediately. Severus waited. The boy shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes." the reply was soft.

He resisted the urge to put his head in his hands. Potter's wild, barely shielded emotions were bringing on a migraine.

"Potter," He said more quietly, trying to remove the menacing tone from his voice, which was doing little to reduce Potter's anxiety. "I am trying to help you. But you make it exceedingly difficult when you do not tell me there is a problem. If the visions are continuing, it is most likely because your mind is not calm when you are asleep." He looked critically at the boy, "tell me about the dreams."

"N-no." Potter said immediately, then blanched as he realised what he said. Severus raised his eyebrow, eyes boring into the boy.

/\/\/\/\/\

Harry regretted his response immediately. It just flew out of his mouth before he realised what he was saying. Or who he was saying it to. But if he didn't want to talk about the visions, he really didn't want to talk his dreams. The visions were... well not his. The dreams were, and they showed every fear, every weakness he had. And the truth.

"I d-don't want to talk t-them" he tried to say it calmly, to look and sound like he had some measure of control. But his heart was hammering in his chest, and his palms were slick.

Snape looked at, his eyes drilling holes into him. Harry fought the urge to start backing away. He was already sitting as far back as the chair would allow. He was stronger than this. But it didn't stop his hands from shaking. He squeezed his arm again, trying to concentrate on the pain, rather than the dread that was rising in the back of his throat. His shield crumpled completely.

Snape didn't shout as he expected. Instead he just calmly said "It's plain that you have nightmares, Potter."

Harry looked down at his lap, refusing to meet his professor's eyes, to acknowledge his weaknesses. The silence lengthened

"How often do you have them?"

/\/\/\/\/\

Severus waited for the boy to respond. Potter shifted again uneasily, avoiding looking at him. He was obviously distressed, although Severus wasn't sure why the subject made Potter so uneasy.

"Most nights." The boy said it unwillingly, refusing to look up.

"About?"

Potter looked up suddenly, seemingly trying to steel himself "I-I don't want to talk about them s-sir". Severus felt the effort it was taking the boy to stay calm, to get the words out.

"Do you dream about Black?"

He had tried to say the words gently, but the moment he mentioned Black, Potter's eyes snapped up to him, as if the words were a physical blow, a slap to the face. Anger and pain and shame burned fiercely around him. Severus was slightly taken aback by the suddenness, the ferocity of Potter's emotions, although he didn't show it. He merely raised his eyebrow, waiting for the boy's response although he already knew the answer.

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

Harry couldn't help it, his eyes snapped up to Snape as he asked about Sirius. He knew the reaction gave him away. It was just so unexpected. The man just kept watching him, waiting for him to say something.

"Yes." he muttered, hating himself. There was no point trying to deny it now. Suddenly a horrible thought occurred to him. "H-how did you k-know?"

"You said his name when you were asleep." Snape said it calmly, without any trace of emotion in his voice, but Harry felt his stomach drop. What else had he said? What else had Snape gleaned from his nightmare ridden sleep talk? He had had other dreams that night...

/\/\/\\\/

Severus did not understand Potter's reaction to his statement. Panic. Distress. Self loathing. His godfather was obviously a sensitive subject, but still... something was not right.

"Is he all you dream of?" He asked, trying not to let Potter's extreme emotions make his voice waspish, or make his own heart pound in response. He took a deep breath, strengthening his mental shield yet again.

The boy seemed to flinch almost, one hand gripping the other arm, knuckles almost white. Severus looked at it suspiciously, while he waited again for the boy to respond.

"No." The boy sounded defeated, hopeless.

/\/\/\/\\

It wasn't quite a whisper. More like his voice was stuck in his throat. He knew he couldn't lie to Snape. There was no hope in trying to deceive the man. But Harry couldn't be honest with about the memories that lurked in his nightmares. The only hope was to tell him some of the truth and hope it was enough of a distraction that the man didn't pick up that he was leaving things out. He was still shaken from the Potion Master mentioning Sirius so casually. But mostly, he hated himself for knowing that he was going to do what he was about to do.

The man just kept looking at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He tried to ignore the shame he felt at hiding behind the grief and deaths he had caused. "Sometimes it's the end of forth year, with Cedric. S-sometimes its people from the visions. Mostly they're about last y-year." He could barely get the words out for the self loathing. Sirius was saving him again. He didn't deserve it. His hand gripped his arm tighter, the pain searing up the limb.

Snape was looking at him shrewdly, frowning slightly. Harry looked down at his lap, trying to ignore the increasing need to get away. To escape the man before he forced the truth out of him.

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

Potter didn't look at him, as he listed the contents of his nightmare. The words were barely whispered by the time he got to Black's death. The boy winced as he said the words. Severus's eyes narrowed, drawn back to the grip he had on his arm.

"Give me your arm, Potter." He held out his hand across the desk, aware if he stood the boy would probably panic. Well, more anyway.

Potter looked up at him, confused, and immediately trying to move back in his seat as soon as he thought Severus was going to touch him. "W-why?"

"Your arm." He let a little menace slip into his voice.

Still confused, and more than a little afraid, the boy leant forward hesitantly, releasing his own white knuckled grip on his arm and holding it up.

"Your other arm."

There was suddenly comprehension in Potter's eyes. The boys' eyes flicked desperately to the door and back, before he slowly reached his other arm forward.

/\/\/\/\/\

Harry glanced desperately at the door before he caught himself. He couldn't keep running away from the man. The door would no doubt be locked, just like last time. He tried to take a deep breath but the air stuck in this throat. There wasn't much for it. He reached the arm forward. His could see his hand was shaking where it wasn't covered by his sleeve.

Snape's cold, steely fingers clamped around his wrist. Harry tried to stay the impulse to shy back but the man's grip was strong, and caught the bottom edge of the bruise. The man swiftly pushed back the black sleeve of his robe, revealing the vivid mark. To his horror Harry saw lighter shadows around his arm where he had been gripping it. Snape looked at him piercingly.

"What is this, Potter?" He growled.

Harry desperately stamped down on the urge to rip his hand away, and bolt. "I-I, no, it-it-it isn't what you think s-sir."

The man just kept looking at him, eyes boring deeper. "I-it, the other n-night, I-I think I h-h-hit it on the coffee table s-sir." Harry was desperately trying to push down the sudden panic that was threatening to overwhelm him. The man rolled his arm over, so the four lighter lines that intersected the original solid purple bar could be seen.

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

"And these Potter?" Severus could see, quite clearly, the outline of Potter's fingers around the bruise, were they had been squeezing his arm. The said arm was shaking fiercely.

"I-I-I", frantic green eyes looked up at him. What exactly the boy was afraid of, Severus wasn't quite sure. "I-it, I wasn't, I m-mean-"

"Potter." He cut the boy off before he could get himself completely hysterical. It was fairly clear what the boy had been doing. The question was for how long. Severus had dealt with more than one student who used pain as an outlet for emotional stress.

"Look at me." He said commandingly. Potter reluctantly dragged his eyes up, cringing when they looked directly into the Potion Master's own. "Potter have you ever deliberately hurt yourself before this?"

/\/\/\\\/

Harry knew that the panic was making everything worse. But he already knew Snape was angry with him. And his unyielding grip on his arm was starting to make memories better forgotten rise to the surface. His heart beat wildly, and his blood pumped loudly in his ears. He was just trying to hold himself together.

"Look at me." He didn't want to. Not with everything else going on in his head. He couldn't help cringing when his eyes met the man's dark ones. "Potter have you ever deliberately hurt yourself before this?"

"N-no s-sir. I-I wasn't t-trying to hurt m-myself." The man looked pointedly down at the bruises. "I-no, it, it-" Harry looked down. He was so weak. Shame rushed through him. "It's h-hard to talk about him."

/\/\/\/\/\

Severus had the feeling that it was the most honest thing the boy had said the entire evening. He didn't think the boy was a risk to himself. But it still had to be dealt with. His head was throbbing. He let go of Potter's wrist. The boy snatched it back immediately. Looking at Potter, sitting hunched in his chair, small and defeated, eyes downcast. Severus had the sudden impression of a lonely, lost child. He shook it from his head, and tried not to sound ominous.

"Potter, inflicting pain on yourself is not an acceptable method of coping. And I have told you several times now that you are to tell me if you get hurt." The boy flinched. Severus could see his hands were still shaking, despite their death grip on the boy's robes.

"What are you g-going to do?" The words came out barely louder than a whisper. Dread surrounded the boy.

…

Harry sat on astronomy tower roof, brooding on the evening's events. He was so angry with himself, with Snape, with the world, that he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Besides which, the thought of having more visions or dreams left him cold.

He had been ok. He had managed to answer Snape's questions about the visions… and the dreams, without going to pieces. Even when he mentioned…when he asked about Sirius. And then, suddenly, everything collapsed. Because of a stupid bruise. It was laughable. He had faced the Dark Lord more than once, faced insurmountable odds, dangerous creatures and homicidal death eaters and survived. But when Snape found about a bruise, he completely fell apart. Despite his sardonic thoughts, he knew it wasn't the bruise. He couldn't help the panic that bubbled up when the man touched him, when he was angry. It brought up memories… Harry felt ill just thinking about them. He took a deep breath, willing them away.

He had thought that Snape was going to report him Dumbledore right then. For disobeying him, again. Instead the man said that he was going to check he wasn't hurt, or hurting himself during each lesson. Like he was a child. Like he needed the man to help him.

If he hadn't been so hemmed in these few days, hadn't felt like every move was being watched, it may not have happened. He was just so tired. He felt exhausted, all the way down to his bones. They were all watching him. All the time. Trying to make sure he was ok. Trying to understand why he was the way he was. Trying to make sure he didn't do anything stupid again, like last year. And for all their watching, they didn't have a clue. They couldn't. How could any of them ever look at him again if they knew? And despite their hearts being in the right places, the watching was doing far more harm than good. He felt so thinly stretched.

This had to stop. This constant falling apart. He had to make it stop. Or sooner or later they were going to find out. He knew he needed to push them away, to keep them from danger, but he couldn't bear the thought of losing them like that. Of his friends loathing him. He would do better. He had to.