Nightmares by Jyllian
Summary: *short story* The painful remnants of Little Harry's old life comes to haunt his nightmares.
Categories: Parental Snape > Guardian Snape Main Characters: .Snape and Harry (required)
Snape Flavour: None
Genres: Family, Hurt/Comfort
Media Type: None
Tags: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Child fic, Snape-meets-Dursleys
Takes Place: 0 - Pre Hogwarts (before Harry is 11)
Warnings: Abusive Dursleys, Neglect, Violence
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 6 Completed: Yes Word count: 17331 Read: 37172 Published: 10 Dec 2010 Updated: 14 Jun 2011
Story Notes:

I'm new at this, so please review and critique!

 Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters inside JK Rowling's marvelous world.

 I'm just a occasional visitor to the world, see.

Chapter 1 by Jyllian

  Little Harry curled up into a foetal position on his new bed, hugging the maroon bed sheets tightly to his chest, as another roar of thunder clashed in the distance. He hurriedly covered his ears with his small hands, eyes wide opened and teeth clamped shut.

 

  Harry had woken up in the night to a heavy storm, the tree branches whipping the glass window at the opposite end of his new room, unable to fall back asleep an hour on. A small shiver ran down the back of his spine as a bright flash of lightning lit up his room, casting shadows on the newly painted light green walls.

 

  It was good of the Potions Master, really, to allow him a room as grand as this. He felt like a pampered prince, with such as large room to himself, and - Harry could still not believe this - all the food and clothes he wanted. Well, within limits anyway. He had declined - politely - upon reaching the potions master's house at first, to be even given a room. He had offered to sleep on the floor or somewhere less...extravagant. After all, all he had back at the Dursleys was a tiny bed that creaked whenever Harry tossed in the night and made his back ache, especially after one of Uncle Vernon's beatings or Aunt Petunia's insanely long chores.

 

  After much mumbled responses and misunderstood confrontations, the Potions Master seemed to finally understand where Harry was coming from. He had never been allowed a room at the Dursleys, unless you call a cupboard under the stairs one. The Potions Master had thought Harry was being deliberately disobedient and rebellious at first, which angered him very much. He was never one to tolerate the ill-disciplined, and hence, made him exceptionally impatient with rowdy, misbehaving children. 

 

  It took another day of patient explanation on the Potions Master's part that Harry understood what was happening.

 

  Severus Tobias Snape, who ran a private apothecary from the comfort of his own home, brewing potions for his clients all over the world, had taken Harry in - under the manipulation of a certain meddling headmaster - as his ward. Harry was still a little confused over the whole thing, but he was glad that he now had an entire room to himself, with books, clothes, a proper bed and even a few toys - all of his own! Not to mention a kind Potions Master, who was at the very least, willing to take him in, although he only showed it discreetly, which was just fine for Harry.

 

  It was another week of shopping to get everything he needed in place. They had gone to a Muggle shopping mall to purchase some Muggle clothes and then to Diagon Alley for furniture and decorations for Harry's room. Magic had made it an easy job to do, as Severus only had to wave his wand in a particular arc for the chosen design and colour to appear on the wall. It had taken Harry some time to get used to the way wizards depended on magic to get by day-to-day life, but like any other child, Harry was quickly fascinated by the fact magic did exist.

 

  There was a need to buy a complete set of wardrobe for the young boy, including shirts, pants and even underwear. This had caused quite a bit of stir between Harry and Severus, as the boy had declined everything Severus suggested they bought for him, even basic essentials like toiletries for his own bathroom. The Potions Master finally snapped when Harry tried to put back a few things from the shopping cart that Severus had absolutely insisted a nine-year-old needed.

 

  "Potter, do not test my patience any longer," Severus said, hissing in a low voice that made Harry jump out of his skin.

 

  "You will need these items if you are going to live in my house. I will not have you dressed up like some beggar while under my care, people would think I've been mistreating you, and for Merlin's sake, stop going on about the money. I am the adult here. I will decide how to manage my finances without a nine-year-old brat doing it for me."

 

  Severus was half-shouting at the end, earning him fierce glares from several mothers around him, who were shopping with their children, for the tone he took with Harry. The boy, on the other hand, received sympathetic and kind looks from the same women, much to Severus' disgust. However, Harry did stop trying to talk Severus out of buying things for him, although he always bit his lips and twisted his hands in nervousness whenever the cashier announced the total amount Severus had to pay.

 

  Harry had feared so much of being back at the Dursleys after waking up and realising this was all just a dream in the end, because it was all too good to be true. A few nightmares about his past further heightened this fear, but instead of banging his door and shouting at him to shut it, the potions master actually held Harry in his arms, albeit awkwardly, and told him it was alright over and over again, until he went back to sleep.

 

  Harry felt safe in the house, away from his abusive uncle, bullying cousin and tormenting aunt.

 

  The loud rumble of thunder brought Harry back to reality again, and this time, a tiny yelp escaped from the nine-year-old's mouth. He quickly shut his eyes but that soon proved to be a mistake.

 

  A terrifying memory greeted the darkness, as a green jet of light accompanied by the roar of thunder rushed towards Harry. A piercing scream for his name ensued and a flash of lightning allowed Harry to see a woman with bright red hair staring up at him, her eyes still opened wide and a tear finally escaping from the corner of her deep emerald eyes.

 

  Harry quickly forced his eyes open, but the picture was etched in his mind. The woman's face was frozen in death. Her eyes, usually filled with love, were now cold and empty. It was frightening, to say the least, how she could look so lifeless, unmoving.

_____________________________________________________________________

 

  "You could come to me for anything, Harry."

 

  Harry admitted he was really lucky. Life at the Dursleys was hard, but it barely lasted eight years and the worst that came off it was a badly burnt hand after Uncle Vernon once returned home drunk. The first thing he saw was, unfortunately, Harry cooking breakfast in the kitchen. Aunt Petunia had brought Harry to the hospital a few hours after the incident; having spent the time arguing with her husband on whether or not having a bloodied-hand boy in the house was worth it.

 

  In the end, Harry was forced to tell the doctors that he was playing with fire when no one was at home, hence the delay. The staff seemed to buy the story and gave Harry a mild scolding, not after secretly stuffing him with a few sweets when Aunt Petunia wasn't giving him the evil eye. He was five.

 

  He remembered most the day Uncle Vernon had kicked him out of the house, quite literally, into the cold, stormy night at 4 a.m. in the morning as Harry could not stifle his crying due to the nightmares. So, poor Harry spent three hours out in the heavy rain, drenched from head to toe, trying to keep warm by hugging his arms close to his chest and pulling his legs near him. It did not help that a branch from the backyard tree broke and slashed across his arm, leaving a long stinging cut throughout the night that prevented him from falling asleep - not that the cold would let him, anyway.

 

  The only good thing, or rather, the best thing that came out of the situation was that the Potions Master had been ordered by Albus Dumbledore to check on Harry the following morning, and so, happened upon a pale, shivering mess on the Dursleys' front doors. It did not take long to figure out what had happened after. Not with someone as skilled in Legilimency as Snape. The rest, we say, is history.

 

  Harry had spent the entirety of his short eight years of his life waiting for someone to take him away, for a second chance at a family. And on the morning after the storm, Little Harry got his wish.

_____________________________________________________________________

 

  After much hesitation, Harry decided to do exactly what the potions master asked of him - to go to him if he had any problems. A nightmare was not a problem, not really, but the potions master would not kick him out of the house for seeking him in the middle of the night, would he?

 

  Slowing creeping across the short corridor leading to the potions master's bedroom, Harry pushed the door that was ajar open slowly. Ever since Harry's first nightmare in the Manor, Severus never left the bedroom door closed, which spoke a lot for the Potions Master, who loved his privacy.

 

  Harry's feet were icy cold and so were his hands, but he thought that was probably because of nerves. He sure had a bundle of them now. Changing his mind last minute about waking the potions master up, Harry stood at the side of the bed, wondering what to do. He had already made it so far here; he certainly didn't want to walk back to his room again.

 

  A low rumble of thunder jolted him back to his senses. He had almost fallen asleep on his feet, and he didn't even realise how sleepy he was. Trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, letting the mattress sink little by little, before carefully reclining onto the side of bed and lying down on his left.

 

  He was amazed when the potions master didn't wake up and kick him off the bed. The Dursleys surely would have done that. Feeling more secured, Harry concentrated on the breathing of the potions master on the other side of the bed and let sleep overtake his consciousness. He would worry about the next morning later - he would just get up before the potions master did and sneak back into his own room.

_____________________________________________________________________

 

  On the other side, Severus' eyes flew open, waking from another one of Voldemort's nightmares. This time, the Dark Lord was holding Lily Evans hostage and demanded Severus to hand over Harry or he'll kill Lily in front of him. His mind doesn't seem to register the fact that Lily was already dead, that this could be a trap, but Severus' dreams always seem to make him feel vulnerable. He dreamt of little Harry running towards his mother, crying for his mummy while Severus tried in vain to pull him back.

 

  The dream ended when Voldemort laughed maniacally at Severus' futile efforts and cast the Killing Curse on Lily and Harry, who was still running. Severus last saw two pairs of emerald eyes looking up at him, dead.

 

  "No!"

 

  Severus' own scream in his dream jolted him awake. Running his hands over his face, Severus sat up from his bed and looked around his room to make sure that the dream was a false one. It had felt so real. Lightning and thunder rolled in the distance, and flashes of light illuminated Severus' room. A slight movement on the left side of his bed caught his attention.

 

  "Harry?" Severus whispered in disbelief, his nightmare coming back to him.

 

  Leaning his weight on his upper left arm, Severus reached towards Harry with his other hand. The nine-year-old rolled on his back to his right and...right into Severus' arms. Sighing in relief and exasperation, Severus placed his palm on Harry's chest gently, comforted by the rising and falling of his breathing. Harry, surprisingly, rolled to his right and further squeezed himself beside Severus.

 

  When Severus tried to pry him away gently, though, a thunder crashed again and little Harry tensed in his sleep, his small hands coming around to clench Severus' pyjamas in his fist.

 

  Naturally, Severus' hand came around and gently patted his fingers on the boy's back. As the tension left the boy's body, Severus covered both of them with his blanket, half hugging Harry close to his chest.

 

  His hand touched Harry's feet, then snorted softly to himself. It was cold as ice.

 

  "You never do care much about your health, do you, idiot child?"

 

  Instead of using a warming charm, Severus rubbed his ward's small feet using his own hand, allowing himself a small smile in the darkness. It had been only a month since he signed guardianship papers for Harry Potter, and the small boy had already wormed his way into the cold potions master's heart. Now, looking intently at Harry's cherubic sleeping face, he could picture himself in the role of a father and creating a family for Harry, a proper father-and-son relationship, instead of what the Dursleys provided Harry with. It made Severus' blood boil simply thinking about them. He had zero tolerance for child abusers of any kind.

 

  Finally lying down on his pillow, Severus fell asleep soon after, comforted by the small intakes of breath Harry was making.

 

  Somewhere beyond the dimensions of the human world, Lily smiled at both the sight she took in, of her son and her best friend.

 

The End.
End Notes:
So, how was it?


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