Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed.
I make no money, I mean no harm.

Patchwork
Nightmares

A half-muffled sob and a look of terror in Granger's eyes told Snape very clearly he hadn't imagined the wave of fear washing over him as he was bending over a dark spot on the floor. He regretted caving in and taking Granger down here after sunset. But his own rooms felt crowded with Neville and Tisha taking refuge there.

The Squib was safe, he decided quickly. Neville was with her, so if she decided to go to her own rooms, he would accompany her.

"At least now we can say with certainty this phenomenon is another remnant of the ritual," he said almost leisurily. Granger, at the very least, didn't notice the slight catch in his voice. The wave had felt much stronger, perhaps because it had clearly originated from here.

"How many times has this happened, then?" Her voice was shaking just a little. She was battling her fear and forcing herself back under control.

"This was the second time. Surely you recall the first occurence at the end of September?" He straightened his back and raised his eyebrows. Granger's eyes grew wider.

"I was asleep. I thought it was a nightmare."

"Are you well enough to perform your spell?" It was impossible to tell whether he was mocking her or showing genuine concern. She chose not to comment on either possibility and nodded. The wand slipped in her hand and she cleared her mind, albeit not without difficulty.

Terrifying things, she could handle. But this was terrifying without things.

"Effectorum petas!" Snape watched as the tip of her wand followed an intricate curve. The spell was her invention, one she came up with when he absolutely refused to use a similar spell of a darker variety. It was much more complicated than simply finding an author, as the incantation suggested, but Granger preferred to put more into the gesture than the words. Odd, indeed, he would have expected her to prefer words, the bookworm she was. Perhaps she had a reason to disbelieve what a longer incantation could achieve?

Snape interrupted his musings when the floor in front of them started glowing. Here stood the students - here was a cauldron, or maybe a small altar? - Merlin, let it be a cauldron - and here a shape of something else, something or someone...

The light flickered and disappeared.

"You lost concentration," Snape accused Hermione, who was biting her lower lip and merely shook her head in response.

"We can now safely rule out the Rite of Allen Heartforth," Snape said with a badly conceiled relief. "The Rite cannot work with the performers standing in such a formation. We need to concentrate on the thing near the cauldron." He pointed at the spot on the floor. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Granger nodding and tilting her head in thought. "There is a very important difference between that being a thing or a person."

"Or an animal," Granger added, "because vast difference is between living and not living, and another vast difference between living and thinking. You said so yourself," she continued defensively when he turned to stare at her. "The first time we talked about this." Snape cleared his throat. She had quoted him word by word.

"Try to focus the spell at that point, Miss Granger."

"I think... Give me a minute to think about how." She paced back and forth, lips moving as she whispered to herself. Snape preferred to watch the flickering light of torches that hung mid-air around them, otherwise he might find himself transfixed by the way her thought processes reflected on her face. There had been a time when he had believed her incapable of thinking for herself. He had thought her to be an annoying know-it-all, a spoiled child taught to learn by heart what was supposed to be understood. And now she was a woman with a brilliant mind, able to follow his own train of thoughts - and to direct it to more interesting ideas. It had been easy to despise the child, certainly easier than he now found it to despise the woman.

"Is it always so chilly in here?" she complained loudly.

"Perhaps I should go and fetch a coat for you?" Snape drawled. Granger stared at him in disbelief, then pressed her lips in a tight line.

"Get ready, I'm starting," she instructed coolly.

The floor lit up again as Granger finished her incantation, the cauldron showing up the first and whatever was behind it in quick succession. Snape watched very closely as it moved, the spell slightly flickering. It was a being - unquestionably a live being - slightly taller than himself and it seemed much heavier, mostly around shoulders and torso. The spell didn't reveal any details and he couldn't make out a face. Or whether it had a face. It probably wasn't human, at the very least. Snape couldn't recall having seen a human with such a figure. A very young giant or a half-giant? Merlin...

The light went off and Granger exhaled noisily.

"Are you well, Miss Granger?" She was pale and sweat was running down the sides of her face, from what he could see. She even swayed a little on her feet and had to lean on the wall for a second.

"Perfectly fine. Professor." She let out a short laugh, cleared her throat and straightened herself. "There is some defensive mechanism. That's why it didn't work well the first time. Or this time. It was trying to... to push me away." She frowned. "It's hard to describe it."

"I recall reading about something like that once." Snape stepped forward and set to measure distances with the tip of his wand.

"Might be worth checking the source, because whoever put together the ritual knew it, too," Granger replied. "Did you manage to get any useful information? I don't think I can try again tonight, it's wearing me down too quickly." This was said with a touch of sorrow, as if she longed for nothing as much as for trying again.

Or as if she longed for the thing they were trying to reveal. Snape mentally shuddered. It was probably only his own past mistakes haunting him.

"What a pity. Nevertheless, what I have discovered should keep me occupied until you are well rested," he said levelly. He flicked his wand and conjured a piece of parchment with the measurements he just took. As he ran his index finger down the list, he noticed the distinct change of Granger's expression.

"I'm sure I can try one more time," she almost hissed. She raised her wand and looked at him expectantly - he had moved inside the area they were scanning.

"That will not be necessary. We should formulate better questions first and tweak that spell to better answer them." Now she was puzzled. She was still staring at him, but the angry gleam disappeared from her eyes. "And also find the book that mentions the defensive mechanism. I don't think the Hogwarts library has it." Granger lowered her wand and lifted her eyebrows. In the back of Snape's mind, a proper and biting response passed. He let it pass and added, "It may prove valuable to solving this... problem."

Granger finally replaced her wand and shrugged the monstrous bush that was her hair. The effect was really interesting from a scientific point of view, Snape mused indifferently. And quietly. He gestured towards the exit and she obediently headed there. He quickly rubbed his knee while her back was turned to him.

"We should check on the house elves. You were right, Professor, this is basically the same thing as the shadow - and they were badly shaken after it appeared close to the kitchens. Is this phenomenon affecting you a lot?" she asked conversionally and glanced at him. It may have been a coincidence they were just passing a lit torch, so she could actually see his face.

"It barely affects me at all," Snape replied dismissively. "What makes you think you can ask me..."

"I just recalled that last time I had a good idea, you said it was a good idea," Granger interrupted him. "And now you almost bit off my head. I feel a little... emotionally raw... myself," she added and glanced at him again, this time very clearly to try and read his reaction.

"I can assure you I am not emotionally raw, or emotionally shaken, or emotionally anything. It is not my habit to allow emotions to affect my behaviour." That, Snape thought, should do it. Discussion over.

That illusion lasted only until they turned a corner.

"Just because you don't usually display your emotions doesn't mean you don't have them. I've seen you being emotional before." Granger was saying that all in a light conversational tone, as if she were discussing weather or the last Quidditch match results, but Snape felt cold fingers close around his innards. Surely she wasn't going to comment on the state in which he had been when bringing Draco to the Burrow?

"Really." There had to be a way to finish the conversation.

"I've seen you angry beyond measure, and Merlin, was that a terrifying sight." When did she... ah. With Black in the Shrieking Shack. He had been rather angry then, so angry he had trouble recalling everything he had said. He had called her silly, hadn't he? And she had attacked him with a Disarming Charm.

"Are you afraid of a reprise?" he asked and curled his lip. That used to have an interesting effect on Rabastan Lestrange, making him feel inadequate and mocked for his inadequacy, and Snape had then revelled in the ability to provoke him without saying more than good morning. And curling his lip.

"Sometimes." She smiled and he glared at her, which didn't work as he had intended. "But not today," she added.

"Then let's take a shortcut," Snape suggested and tapped a tapestry that revealed a narrow passage. True to her Gryffindor sorting, Granger entered without hesitation. She stopped at the dead end and turned to let him through at the precise moment when he reached past her to open the exit. That brought their faces an inch from each other and Snape froze.

"And what is a little Squib like you doing here?" a shrilled high-pitched voice sounded from behind the wall. "Just a tad far away from the Hufflepuff Common Room, aren't we?"

"Miss Greengrass," Snape hissed. He straightened and gestured for Granger to move away from the wall. He was unwilling to reveal the entrance to whoever was in the corridor outside and prepared to cast a charm to prevent that when another voice rang.

"I can see the Slytherin traditions have reached a new level. Harrassing a first year - couldn't you find someone your age to pick on?"

"Draco?" Granger whispered with eyes so wide she might as well be in shock.

"Or is it that you went for someone your mental age?" Draco continued. Snape laid the tip of his wand against the wall and a small peephole appeared. Drawing the wand away in circles, Snape enlarged the picture to the point where they could easily recognise a small boy on the left, Astoria with two girls and a boy from her suite on the right, and Draco Malfoy - yes, Draco Malfoy, himself and all alone - standing near the kitchen entrance with a big superlicious smile and a wand leisurily held between two fingers.

Granger pressed a hand to her mouth to stop whatever sound she was about to emit. Snape took a second to study the harassed boy. It was an ugly child if Snape had ever seen any, with round cheeks and small eyes and an uneven large nose. Snape had to think back to the Sorting to recall his name. Gamp - a first-year - Edward Gamp. A very average boy.

"And what are you doing down here?" Greengrass whirled to face young Malfoy. "Shouldn't you be upstairs hiding behind the Mudblood and..."

ZIP! Malfoy was now standing in a perfect duel posture, wand still aimed at Greengrass who was clutching her face where the hex had hit her. When there came no immediate retribution, the blond relaxed a little and offered an unpleasant smile.

"I thought I would visit my old house," he said lightly. "I was really hoping it hadn't sunk as low as you made it seem. How naive of me." He tutted. Greengrass was touching her face. One of her girlfriends drew her hands down to take a look and screamed. Snape managed to see it, too. It was an ugly-looking rash, something horrid for a teenage girl, he assumed. With a little bit of luck Madam Pomfrey would be unable to treat it - some types of rash needed to be waited out.

The girls ran away in the direction of the Slytherin Common Room, the Slytherin boy stood in the middle of the corridor indecisively for a moment, then raced after the girls. Malfoy walked forward and looked at the Hufflepuff.

"Are you lost?" he asked almost kindly. The boy nodded. "Well, your common room is that way," he pointed behind himself, "but you may want to go up the stairs back to the Entrance Hall and take it from there. Lots of Slytherins hang out in the hall you'd have to pass. That way," he turned the boy when he made no effort to start moving. "Know what? I'll walk with you for a while. What's your name?" The answer was mumbled and as the pair walked towards the stairs, their voices became an unintelligible echo in the stone-walled corridor.

"Are you missing any shredded skin of a boomslang, Professor?" Granger breathed.

"I must admit that I have no idea what brought this question about, Miss Granger."

"That wasn't Draco Malfoy. It must have been an impostor using Polyjuice." But it somehow didn't sound as if she were really suggesting it was an impostor.

"I was thinking Confundus Charm," Snape said levelly and tapped the wall to open it. He staggered forward as his bad knee failed to hold his weight. Granger grabbed his elbow and helped him to steady himself. He shrugged her off.

"Are you alright? Do you need to sit down?"

"No!" He pushed her away and glared. "I am perfectly fine and capable of walking on my own."

"Suit yourself, Professor," Granger huffed. "As long as you don't start hopping on one leg!" Snape snorted and walked up to the kitchen entrance. He almost managed not to hobble.

The fruit pieces were huddled together and seemed to be shivering. That happens, Snape mused, when you put too much thought in food.

"I wonder what was Draco really doing down here," Granger said and reached to tickle the pear. It tried to hide behing an orange.

"I am more intrigued by the Hufflepuff. He cannot remember the times this corridor led to his Common Room." Grager stopped chasing the pear, which was now hiding among grapes, and turned to him.

"When did this change?" she queried, brows knitted.

"Well before the ritual was performed. But it may be that the same group of students initiated this change when trying to gain more influence." Snape tapped his nose thoughtfully. "The castle has been known to react to such desires, especially in the dungeons."

"Because Salazar Slytherin wanted to enhance this kind of power games among his students," Granger finished. It didn't help at all that she was right. "Then how does Draco know how to get to the Hufflepuff Common Room and what was he doing in the kitchens?"

"How do you know he was in the kitchens?" Snape's hand darted and caught the evasive pear.

"Where else would he come from? Are there really Slytherins hanging out in a hall back there?" Snape nodded. The hall had been probably used by the Dark Lord's supporters, and maybe the dungeon rearranged itself to give them an easier access.

"We should investigate that hall," he decided and let go of the pear. The poor fruit slid between an apple and an apricot. Granger quickly tickled it before it disappeared in the back.

"I'll be just a minute," she said before turning the green knob. Snape frowned at her, then at the picture when it closed behind her, at the pear as soon as it turned back into a pear, and at one of the pineapples just because.

They didn't check the hall that evening. It really only took Hermione two minutes to see the elves were fine, confirm Draco had been in the kitchens, and refuse a plate of sandwiches, hot tea, cold smoked pork, and a baked apple, but still by the time she reemerged from the kitchen, Snape's knee was throbbing so badly he stopped denying it. He even allowed - although with ill grace - to be helped as they made their way to his quarters.

"... still red in the face the following morning. It was all that I could... Merlin, Severus, what happened?" Tisha exclaimed as the door opened and revealed the two.

"Very sorry to interrupt you," Snape growled instead of a greeting. Neville, who had been sitting cross-legged on the rug, scrambled to his feet. Snape was now hustled across the room, sat in the armchair, his leg was put up and his knee bundled in a poultice again. It wasn't until a cup of hot tea was pressed into his hand that he came to his senses.

"I am not a sick child." He set the cup on the table and glared at everyone angrily.

"But Sev..." Tisha was cut off as the fireplace made a whooshing sound and the flames turned green for a moment.

"I need to go see the Headmistress," Snape muttered darkly and tried to stand up. His knee, however, had another opinion and he sat right back down. Tisha glared at him and silently readjusted the poultice.

"That's ridiculous," Granger exclaimed. "You can't be expected to go anywhere in this state." She made a vague gesture in the general direction of his knee. "If it's about the wave of fear, I can inform the Headmistress myself." And without waiting for an answer, she picked up her bag and headed for the door.

"Oh," she turned back before turning the handle, "do try and remember the title of the book you mentioned, Professor."

Neville suppressed a chuckle.

"That's Hermione for you," he noted when the door shut behind her. "Always very respectful, even when she's pushing you around." He went around the room, collecting his things, while Tisha attempted to return the tea into Snape's hand. Their exchange was completely silent, but even with his back towards them most of the time, Neville still picked up a great deal of what was going on.

"Tisha? I'll walk you back. You really can't go alone tonight." And as the Squib started to refuse, he quite ungentlemanly dumped her books and notes in her arms.

"Good night, Severus!" he called cheerfully as he navigated Tisha out of the door.

Finally alone, Snape leant back and let out a deep breath. He closed his eyes and silently cast a charm to dim the lights. After a minute he remembered the tea and drank almost all of it, refilled the cup, and drained it completely. Content with being fully capable of looking after himself, he rubbed the hurt knee over the poultice.

He was going to have that dream again, he was certain of that. Whether it was the accidentally used pet name, or the look of concern on Tisha's face, or the reflection of green light in her eyes as the Headmistress Flooed him, something unearthed memories he sometimes wished he never had. It hurt so much to remember he almost decided to use a Dreamless Sleep Potion.

Almost.

"So, what do you think?" Robert whispered, clearly excited. Elizabeth shook her head and put her hand over his mouth. Someone quickly approached their hiding spot behind an armour, into which they ducked when they nearly ran into Mr. Filch. The caretaker was rounding the castle without Mrs. Norris, fortunately, and failed to notice two children squeezed between the armour and the wall.

"... you had a good reason for that?" It was Professor Malfoy with one of the Patchwork students.

"Severus doesn't like to be mothered," the student replied cheerfully. "He can take care of himself, he's a wizard, after all. Doesn't need to stand up all night long. And if he does need help, well, then he'll find a way to..." Elizabeth let go of Robert and looked at him. He seemed agitated.

"Let's go," he whispered. They crept along the corridor to the nearest intersection and stopped to listen quietly for a while before taking a fleet of stairs down. The stairs led all the way to the Entrance Hall, but the children took a longer way passing several classrooms and a smaller staircase leading directly to the dungeons. They shivered; the very walls of the dungeons seemed to be cold and wet. Elizabeth touched the stone tentatively. It was dry.

For nearly twenty minutes they criss-crossed the dungeons, looking for anything that could explain the wave of fear they had experienced earlier. Finally, just after reaching the Potions classroom by accident, they were ready to admit defeat and Robert set out for the main staircase. But Elizabeth pulled him back. She put a finger on her lips and they huddled in a small alcove, a rather poor hiding spot. Now even Robert could hear a rough voice and steps drawing near.

It was Mr. Filch again, this time carrying Mrs. Norris. The cat was panting and the caretaker was talking to her. What he was saying the children didn't understand, and he was so absorbed in his friend that he didn't even look around himself as he hurried towards the exit of the dungeons.

"Do you think that fear thing hurt Mrs. Norris?" Elizabeth asked when Filch disappeared and the echo of his steps died out. Robert shook his head, but gave it a thought.

"Possibly," he said eventually. "We should go back to the tower." As they tip-toed across the Entrance Hall, Robert suddenly turned to the Great Hall door.

"What are you doing?" Elizabeth hissed. He motioned her to come closer.

The butterflies didn't raise from the tables in such great swarms as when Robert had first seen them, however, the sight still greatly impressed Elizabeth. She watched the dance of the translucent insect in awe, and even grabbed Robert's arm in the excitement.

"That's so beautiful!"

A cloud came over the moon and the butterflies faded. Satisfied, Robert led the way up several fleets of stairs to the safety and comfort of the Gryffindor Tower.

"Headmistress?" Hermione hesitantly peeked through the door which stood slightly ajar. Startled, Minerva almost knocked over a pitcher on her desk. "Oh, I'm sorry, but the door was open..." Hermione pointed downstairs to the entrance guarded quite ineffectively by a pair of gargoyles.

"Is anything the matter, Miss Granger?"

"You called... I mean, you called Professor Snape, but he's... incapacipated."

"Incapacipated." The word rolled elegantly between the two witches and somehow formed an open question.

"We were doing research down in the dungeons when the fear wave came," Hermione stated. "Then his knee started hurting..." She trailed off, deep in thought for a while. "I think there may be a connection. Claudibus does mention in his Course through Curses that residual curses may be triggered by other spells of similar background, and it's almost palpable that the shadow and the fear wave are connected to Voldemort." She spoke more quickly now, as if her mouth was struggling to keep up with her mind. "The intention is as important as physical presence, as both..."

"Miss Granger?" Hermione stopped abruptly and cleared her throat.

"Yes, Headmistress?"

"Perhaps you should share your thoughts with Professor Snape. Tomorrow," she added. "I believe the two of you will be able to work at the same speed." Hermione nodded.

"Good night, Headmistress."

"Good night."

Alone, unless one counted the number of portraits pretending to be fast asleep, Minerva went through the parchments on her desk. She put the most important ones on the top, then rose and extinguished, quite uncharacteristically, the candles one by one on her way out.

"Minerva, my dear," spoke Dumbledore when she reached the last candle.

"Yes, Albus?" She didn't turn to face him.

"Are you throwing young women at poor Severus?"

"Of course not. Miss Granger is still a student! I'm merely delegating." But she smiled before she blew out the last candle.

In the darkness, nothing could be heard until the door shut after a tabby cat slipped out of it.

A scratch on the door - so quiet it couldn't even be considered knocking - and Snape almost panicked. He wasn't supposed to even be here, but someone found him anyway.

He quietly moved to the window and peeked outside. A single hooded figure standing on his doorstep. And he knew who it was.

The pair of emerald green eyes shone from under the hood so brightly as if it were the only pair of stars shining from the sky. Snape had opened the door only a few inches, but it was enough for his visitor to slip through. For a moment, they stared at each other, and Snape could only hope there was not enough light in the room for his face to be seen. Then Harry Potter spoke and broke the spell.

"I need to talk to you, Professor." The irony of the younger man addressing him like that now was almost painful.

"I don't teach at Hogwarts anymore."

"I need to know the truth. About you... and my mother."

Snape woke up with a gasp. This was a different dream. He hadn't expected to be revisited by this ghost of the bane of his existence - this zen thing using Lily's eyes as a shield. It had been scary enough when it had happened.

He got up to splash cold water on his face. That night, in a dreadful and out-of-place conversation, he had shared his most protected secrets with Harry Potter, without knowing why, without understanding the transformation he had seen in him. Potter had no longer been an arrogant brat. He had no longer appeared to be a living being.

And he hadn't said a word about his father all night.

A/N: I did get a bout of inspiration from one of duj's earlier reviews while writing this. See, I do read your reviews and I even remember them. Sometimes.