Before the Dawn – Chapter 4

By jharad17

Disclaimer: What?

Warning for mentions of abuse and rape, but nothing graphic.

Previously:

"Oh." Harry brought a hand up and rubbed at his scar. "I dunno. Three or four times, maybe," Severus was going to question him again, until he heard the last two words, "a week."

And once more, Severus had the sensation of everything falling out from under him, with no one to catch either of them when they crashed to earth.

Closing his eyes briefly didn't seem to help. Neither did opening them again to see Harry giving him a frankly confused look. Perhaps speaking? "Harry . . . you realize that's not . . ." Severus sighed, not wanting to say 'not normal,' even though it wasn't, as he wanted to give the boy no ammunition against himself and his self concept. Maybe just say it plainly. . . . "Choking is abuse, Harry, even once. But so many times . . . I know we've spoken of other things your uncle did, the verbal abuse, the neglect and starving-"

"Well, it was mostly Aunt Petunia who wouldn't feed me."

Severus swallowed, but held Harry's gaze, hoping to ground at least one of them. "Yes. All right. But choking you, so often . . . It's even possible he did you some permanent damage. Brain damage."

The confused look in Harry's eyes was replaced almost instantly with a burning rage, and he snapped, "If you want to tell me I'm stupid, just say the word 'stupid.'"

Severus sighed in frustration. "I am not calling you stupid, or any variation thereof. You are obviously not stupid. You did very well on your OWLs, if I recall correctly." He watched the flush of anger cool somewhat from Harry's cheeks before he went on. "But brain activity accounts for far more than just intelligence, and if he cut off the blood flow, and thus the oxygen getting to your brain, there's no telling what that might have done."

Sighing again, Severus considered the possibilities in silence, not wanting to frighten Harry, though the boy would have to know sometime. There were areas of the brain that, if damaged, could account for the difficulty Harry had confessed to having in his Muggle school, and in some classes at Hogwarts, just being able to concentrate on lectures. Or might have effected the way he read or organized his thoughts, or his ability to manage his temper. Even his eyesight, for Merlin's sake.

"When did you first discover you required glasses?" he asked at last, thinking to start with something relatively easy to fix.

Harry shrugged, a 'I'm not sure where this is going, but I'm willing to play along' shrug. "When I went to primary school. About half way through the first year, they gave us all eye tests, and I got sent home with a note telling them they should take me to see an optician." He smirked. "Never went. Aunt Petunia got a free pair of glasses from St. Vincent's."

Severus shook his head wonderingly. Honestly, how had the boy survived? It was entirely possible that he had inherited the poor eyesight from his father, but it was also possible that cerebral anoxia was the cause. "And?"

"And?"

"Did they help at all?"

"Not demonstrably. I still couldn't see at school. Had headaches kind of a lot."

"Did you have headaches after the choking, too?"

Harry nodded.

"Did you ever lose consciousness?"

With a sigh of resignation, acknowledging that Severus was not going to drop this subject till he'd wrung it dry, he nodded again. "A few times, yeah. But just a sore throat afterwards, mostly."

"And was anything different when you woke up those 'few times'?" he asked, and did not want to ask at this time if 'few' really meant a few, or if it meant once a week. He would have to, he knew. Just not right now.

"What do you mean?"

"Was your coordination off, or did you have difficulty remembering things?"

"Um . . ." Harry appeared to be actually considering the question, instead of just snapping out an answer. Good. "One time, I think, I had a hard time standing up after I woke up. I was real wobbly for a few days. Like I was drunk or something, staggering around."

Severus did not ask how Harry knew what drunkenness felt like; likely from seeing his Gryffindor friends overindulge at one of their notorious post-Quidditch parties. He knew, from an earlier discussion of theirs, when Severus had settled down with a glass of Firewhiskey one night, that Harry disliked alcohol and was disdainful of those who became inebriated to the point of passing out, or even having trouble with their coordination. Probably a remnant from his experience with his uncle's escalated violence while pissed. "Define a few days, in this instance."

With a rueful smile, Harry rubbed at his forehead, then said, "A week maybe? It's hard to remember. I was about six or seven, in school by then, but Aunt Petunia wouldn't let me go while I could hardly stand. But I couldn't work either, 'cause of being wobbly, so she was real angry." He shrugged; one of his, 'It doesn't matter, that's just the way it was' shrugs.

Oh, he could just imagine. Petunia, all puffed up and self-righteous, complaining about the boy's utter laziness, most likely, since he could not be her little house elf at her beck and call, nor could he walk to school under his own power . . . because her husband had bloody well strangled him. Had cut off the supply of oxygen to Harry's brain to the point of unconsciousness, and Harry could have died. The ataxia could have been permanent, at the very least, or the boy could have been rendered a drooling vegetable for the rest of his life. Seething once more at the Muggles' barbarism toward their nephew, Severus steepled his fingers together, pressing the tips of the digits so hard against each other that they were white down to the first knuckle. He didn't know what to say, but he had to unclench his teeth somehow. Finally, he muttered, "I see."

Harry's eyes narrowed, bright with anger again. "What do you see, exactly?"

Incapable of answering that question, Severus asked another. "Were there any particular things that sent your uncle to choking you?"

Eyes narrowing even more, Harry snarled, "Do you honestly think, if I knew, I wouldn't have stopped doing those things? I didn't want him to pin me to the wall with his fucking fist around my throat!"

"I know that!" Severus was quick to say. "Harry, that's not what I meant at all."

"Then what the fuck did you mean!" The shelves around the perimeter of the room, filled with books and sample bottles of potions, rattled along with the rising tide of Harry's rage.

Severus fought to keep his voice calm, quiet and as soothing as possible, fought to keep his own temper in check. "All I meant was, were you able to pick out any pattern to his abuse? Did you notice if he choked you on particular days, or only if he had been drinking, or when things went wrong for him at work?"

"Oh." Once more, Harry seemed to swallow his anger, but the color did not fade from his cheeks this time. Severus thought it must be shame coloring his skin now. That simply would not do. Before he could say anything, though, Harry shook his head. "I never could tell. I mean, yeah, when he drank, everything was worse. But he blamed everything on me. If the neighbor's car backfired and he spilled his scotch, or if he lost a client or got a flat tire, it was my fault, 'cause I wanted bad things to happen to him. And since I was a freak, I could make them happen."

Severus frowned, watching the boy, digesting what he said, and his tone, and the look in his eyes. He came to a sudden realization that actually frightened him. Softly, he said, "He was wrong, Harry. Those things were not your fault."

"I know," Harry replied, but he looked away.

"Harry." Severus' tone was sharp this time, but he had to make sure this got through the boy's thick skull. "You did not make those things happen. Not because you wanted to annoy him, or your other relatives, and not because you were angry or wanted attention or anything else."

"Yeah," Harry said, his voice dull.

"No! Listen to me. You did not do those things! You were not at fault for any of it."

Harry's head came up and his eyes were watery. "How do you know? I know about accidental magic. What if I . . ." He waved his hand in the air like he was holding a wand. "I deserved what I got."

"Harry!" Severus was on his feet now, but he was careful not to loom over the boy. Harry shrank back on the settee, even so. Severus crossed his arms over his chest and leaned away, lest he try and shake some sense into the boy. "That's not how accidental magic works. You could not have made a car backfire so that damned beast spilled his drink! Nor could you make him lose a client at work or any other damned thing like that." He shook his head. "When children, especially, display accidental magic, it's . . . it's not something that can be explained like that. Things happen that are far from ordinary. Teddy bears fly across rooms, windows break for no reason, or thousands of precious potion bottles tremble on the walls."

The last was said with a small, sly smile, and Harry seemed to understand. At least, the corner of his own mouth twitched up as he glanced at the walls and the now quiet shelves. "I guess," he said.

Severus rubbed a hand over his face, tired beyond reason. And Merlin, but they were getting completely off track from what he had first wanted to talk to Harry about. The damn spell! And the not sleeping. . . First they had to finish this little problem, however. "I want to have Poppy do a complete work up on you," he said quietly. "After finding out about the choking, and after all that happened over the summer, I think it will be important to make sure there are no lingering . . . effects."

"Of what I did to Dumbledore?"

"Professor Dumbledore," Severus sighed, "And yes. As well as-"

"What I did to Malfoy."

Severus nodded. "And of what he - and the Dark Lord - did to you."

Harry swallowed, but nodded. Drawing a deep breath, he appeared to be drawing up his courage, too. "Do you think they could've given me some kind of disease?"

Severus frowned. "I don't understand."

"You know, like AIDS or something."

"Ah." Severus could have used a large tumbler of Firewhiskey right about then. Instead, he held Harry's gaze, giving him strength and assurance. "No, Wizards are not susceptible to Muggle venereal diseases."

"But . . ." Harry bit his lip. "Are there Wizarding venereal diseases then?"

So young, Severus thought for the hundredth time. Too young to face issues like this. "There are, but I very much doubt-"

"Can you have her check for that, too?"

"Of course." He studied his young ward carefully.

"Are we done then?" harry asked hopefully.

"Not yet. We're going to try and figure out why you're having nightmares. Or, more importantly, why I had no idea you were having them."

"I dunno."

"Harry, please don't lie to me." There, he'd put his request plainly. He held the boy's gaze, noting again the bloodshot eyes and the heavy, dark circles beneath them. "You haven't been sleeping at all at night, have you?"

Harry looked down at his hands and shook his head.

"How many nights have you kept yourself awake?"

"I dunno," came the almost whispered reply.

"Two?" Severus prompted. "Three? A week?"

"Maybe a week."

"How?"

"I . . ." The shoulders hunched. Severus didn't even need to have Veritaserum to know what he was about to hear next was a lie. "I dunno."

"Tell me, Harry." Severus made his voice cool and clear, so there would be no question that he meant what he said. "I cannot help you if I do not know what you are doing to try and help yourself. And if I cannot help you, I'm afraid I cannot let you stay here, unsupervised . . ."

That brought Harry's head up. "What! You'd send me away? You promised you wouldn't-"

"If you would work with me. If you promised to not harm yourself." He shook his head. "Not sleeping will lead to more problems than you can possibly imagine."

"Worse than nightmares?" Harry asked sullenly.

"Far worse. Sleep deprivation leads to irritability, headaches, lack of coordination, muscle weakness and tremors, and if it goes on for too long, you'll suffer depression, memory loss, hallucinations, psychosis and even death."

"You're having me on." Harry tried a smirk on him, with looked simply pathetic with the pallor of his skin, and his eyelids drooping tiredly.

He glared at the boy. "I am not. When have you ever known me to lie about your health?" He pursed his lips. "Which of those symptoms are you already dealing with?"

One shoulder hitched up, but Harry didn't ignore him this time. Nor, Severus hoped, did he lie. "Headaches, I guess. But I always have those. Ever since He came back."

Severus nodded and made a motion with his hand for Harry to continue.

"And I guess I'm kind of . . . well, irritable, too."

"I would agree."

"Harry shot him a glare. "Thanks."

"Go on," Severus ordered. "What else?"

"I don't know. What else did you say?"

"Memory loss, then."

"No! I remember things!"

"Do you?"

"Yeah! All kinds of things! I remember that I hate dungeons and I'm sick of you sticking your nose in-"

"I suggest you do not finish that sentence," Severus warned. "Instead, I want you to tell me about the spell you are using to keep yourself awake."

Harry's pale face drained of blood to the point Severus thought he might faint. "How did, uh, what are you talking about?" Severus lifted one eyebrow and Harry shouted, "How do you know!"

"I have my sources."

"I don't . . . how did . . . why would you say something like that?"

"Harry, please just answer my question. What is that spell?"

"No! I don't . . . I'm not . . ." Panic was making color come back to his cheeks, but Severus was afraid he might throw a fit or lose his temper in such a way that he let his magic loose.

"Harry." Severus lowered his voice again, using the most soothing tone he could. He took a step closer to the boy, his hands up, showing his palms, to prove he meant no harm. Harry had been particularly skittish lately; probably the lack of sleep. "Tell me. I want to help you. Please."

He knew that, often, it was the "please" that got through to Harry. As he had been discovering more about the boy's upbringing, Severus knew that it was a word Harry had rarely or ever heard before. Certainly not from his relatives. As he'd thought, his plea brought Harry up short.

The boy nodded and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. "All right," came the muffled answer. "It's for countering Somnambulus. Um, you have to say, Excito Sursum."

Severus closed his eyes briefly and rubbed at his temple with his fingertips. There were any number of spells Harry could have used to stave off sleep, ones that were not addictive or dangerous if used repeatedly. Did he have to pick the one that would eat away at the divisor between the waking and the sleeping world? Depending on how frequently he had used it, it might be nearly impossible for Harry to fall into an actual restful sleep until they could get him over the addiction.

Even the nightmare Harry'd had earlier in the day had come after only an hour at most of sleep . . . depending on how long it had taken him to write his journal entry.

Keeping a tight rein on his emotions, instead of screaming at the boy for being such a fool, Severus said, "All right. Good. Thank you for telling me." He drew a deep breath. There was no way he was going to be able to handle this mess, plus teach his classes. Yet neither he nor Harry could leave the castle without being a target for the Dark Lord.

Yet if this wasn't fixed, Harry would fall apart even more, emotionally and physically, with the hallucinations, psychosis and death to follow. What in the world were they going to do?

TBC….

A/N: Thanks to all who read and review!