Last time on Filling the Void: Harry and Severus took a trip to replenish Harry’s wardrobe and Harry reacted badly to feeling too old and looking to young.

It was hard to cause Severus nightmares. That’s not to say he did not have them; in fact, he had them quite often. It was simply the fact that they were generally composed of the more horrific of the Dark Lord’s acts. Once he’d joined the Death Eaters, he stopped having your standard naked-in-front-of-your-classmates type dreams. Being naked in front of your classmates – even James Potter and those wretched excuses for humanity that called themselves his friends – would have been welcomed in place of a round of cruciatuses.

That was the state of his psyche for well over a decade, and he had grown used to it, if not accepted it. At least it had been until Harry Potter had inserted himself into his life. Severus had no idea when it changed, but somehow his nightmares had become the things of falls from brooms, incendios gone wrong, and now – of a Harry Potter that was too wounded, too emotionally regressed to ever reach his potential, of a hurt boy that never healed because his guardian, the man he called father, didn’t know how to help him.

Severus had taken to drinking a lot of coffee. Thank Merlin for warming charms.

What he made a grand effort not to do is to check on the boy. He was not that kind of man, and certainly not that kind of guardian. At least that's what he tried to tell himself when the urge overcame him. He fought it off successfully often enough -- it certainly didn't count as checking on the boy if all he did was open the bedroom door, did it? No. Checking was the few times he caught himself standing by the side of Harry's bed, watching him sleep.

Yes, his nights had turn into caffeine-laden dramas in which he found himself watching an eleven year old sleep. It would be creepy if it wasn't so soppy.

And that was the post he found himself at this evening; the second time that week. Harry appeared to be sleeping peacefully; it seemed they traded off on their respective bouts of insomnia. That, at least, was a small blessing. The last thing he needed was to wake from a nightmare about a damaged, abused boy in his care to try and comfort the very real boy the dream represented. He didn't think either of them would survive with their dignity intact. Not that he had much left to lose.

But he did have some, he reminded himself, snatching his hand back from where it had almost settled on the boy's brow. When did that habit come along? He could not place it. Harry, for his part, was behaving in the predictable way after their emotional first-aid encounter after Diagon Alley. He was all false bravado and casualness, trying very hard to seem grown up and not in any way needy. It was clearly an act. Snape knew enough about the child and the way his mind worked to spot that from a mile away.

For example, he knew that if he looked under the covers he would find the original stuffed toy from Lukas' bedroom clutched tightly in the boy's hand, hidden, but still there. He knew that if he were to wake the boy from his sleep, he'd get a very frightened ward who would be instantly apologizing to his Uncle Vernon for some imagined offence.

And now his thoughts had come full circle, he knew he should attempt to get some rest. He could not go on like this. If he did, he would end up face down in Harry's birthday cake, and likely snoring.

**********

But perhaps Severus did not know Harry as well as he thought, or perhaps the lack of sleep truly was affecting his ability to think. Because while he stood there watching the boy, Harry was anything but asleep. He had perfected the art of faking it, and he'd had plenty of opportunities to practice.

Harry had always been a fairly light sleeper. You had to be when you never knew when the door to your cupboard was going to be flung open at any moment, and you would be pulled out by your hair. No, there was no way to know when it would happen, but at least he could be prepared for it when it did. When you added nightmares on top of that, well, sleep had never been Harry's friend.

It was because of all this that Harry was awake one of the first times the professor had come into his room in the night. He knew the man had done it before, but he'd never actually fully woken to see what happened. He was very glad he did wake that first time, because Snape had pulled up his covers, re-tucked them in and had even sat by the side of his bed for a few minutes. It took every ounce of willpower Harry had within him not to react.

And the first time his guardian had reached over and brushed the hair off his face, well, Harry thought he deserved some sort of award for not moving. He noticed the man didn't do it this time, that he came close but stopped himself, Harry could feel the heat from his hand, it had been such a near thing. But it did not settle, and that made Harry sadder than he could describe.

But he shouldn't be greedy, he told himself as he lay in his bed and tried to sleep for real. Severus was, well, he was Snape after all. He wasn't going to suddenly become like Ron's Mum. Harry wasn't even sure he would have wanted it if it were to happen. He had a feeling it would be a bit like when he was sick at the Burrow because he wasn't used to that many sweets at one time. He wasn't used to much touching -- not nice touching, anyway -- and kind words had been few and far between before he got to Hogwarts. So yes, it was better this way. Snape gives just the right amount of good stuff, was his last thought before he tumbled into his own dream world.

***************

Severus worried about the boy. He didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't deny it in the face of his incredibly unending inability to sleep. Well, that was his job after all, to worry after the boy, and he had been doing it long before Harry had come to live with him. Why should anything be different now? Of course now he could actually see all that had to be done for Potter. Now he didn't just have to worry about his physical well-being, he had to worry about the boy's emotional health too. That was new. And it was a hell of a burden to bear, bigger than he ever imagined it would be.

And that's what drove him to the floo the next night, powder in hand, debating.

He was at a loss. Should he put in the floo-call? It was impossible to say what was the right choice. Bringing anyone else into his worries for the child seemed -- drastic. However Severus could not deny that he was at a loss for what to do next. He could be there for Harry, that much he knew, even if the "being there" left something to be desired. But that's what left him once again to his own self doubt. He was not foolish enough to think his mere presence would be enough to solve the child's issues. Life did not give prefect endings, all gift-wrapped and bow-tied. No one knew that better than he did.

And so, in the end, he threw the floo powder in and called out "Albus Dumbledore!" before he could change his mind and go back to bed.

He should have known that Albus would be practically instantaneous in his response. Was the Headmaster sitting by the fireplace just anticipating his call? Maybe the man did have a touch of the Seer in him. One could never tell with Albus. It would not be the first time he’d kept a gift hidden for years.

"Severus, how delightful, what brings you to floo call me this evening? I'm surprised the joys of the soon-to-be-twelve year old in your home and life did not have you dropping into a sound sleep by this hour."

"Mmm, yes, you would think that, but you would be wrong. The mere thought of such – joy --” he sneered, “keeps me wide awake into the wee morning hours." Dumbledore chuckled, as if Severus was joking, as if he was a small child who had just said something silly and was to be rewarded for his wit with a chuckle from Grandad. It annoyed the professor to no end.

"I am quite serious Headmaster. I am plagued by insomnia as a result of James Potter's son living in my home, and I call in the hopes that you would have some ideas on how I can fix this mess."

"What is it this time Severus? Has Harry gotten into your potions lab?”

“Hardly. I doubt his death wish is that entrenched yet. No, if you could bring yourself to be a little less dotty Headmaster for a moment, these issues are of a more troubling, personal nature.”

“I’m all ears, Severus.”

And so, with a brief glace behind him and a short wave of his wand, Severus closed the door. Some conversations shouldn’t be overheard.

**********

He’d only wanted a glass of milk. He knew he wasn’t really supposed to be out of bed – although Snape had never really minded in the past. In fact, sometimes at night he got out of bed and padded around the house just because he could. He wasn’t locked in now, after all.

But no, tonight he wasn’t wandering for the sake of enjoying the space, he simply wanted something to drink. Snape had told him several times that he could help himself to whatever he wanted to eat or drink – well, what he had actually said was “You may help yourself to anything in the pantry or icebox as necessary. Do try not to over indulge.”

Which was easy, really. He had grown up with Dudley as a living example of the need for moderation. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to truly take anything without asking first. People said that all the time, but what if there was something in there that the Professor was saving for a special occasion? Or a potion or something? No, it was definitely better to ask.

Snape wasn’t in his room, which briefly sent a flash of panic straight to Harry’s gut that he tried hard to ignore. Peering down the hall he could see a light that seemed to be coming from the drawing room. He should have figured the man would still be awake.

As he approached he heard the familiar voice of Dumbledore. What was the headmaster doing here at this hour? It was hardly the time for a social visit. Curious, Harry flattened himself against the wall just outside the room and waited. Snape would kill him if he was found eavesdropping again. But he couldn’t help himself. Obviously there had to be something wrong, some sort of emergency. Why else would Dumbledore be here? And since no one ever told him anything important, well, this was the only way he’d ever find out what the problem was.

Severus began speaking and Harry shook himself out of his reverie and tried to focus on the conversation. His guardian sounded more frustrated than usual. Whatever it was, it must be bad.

"I am quite serious Headmaster. I am plagued by insomnia as a result of James Potter's son living in my home, and I call in the hopes that you would have some ideas on how I can fix this mess."

Harry’s vision tunnelled for a moment and he lost his breath. Yes, it was bad. Even worse than he could have imagined.

Severus didn’t want him anymore.