We’re finally here. Harry thought, tiredly suppressing a huge yawn threatening to crack open his face. Though whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, it was hard to tell. The driver mechanically told him that he had arrived at his destination and the moment Harry got out of the car, it sped past him, as if trying to flee the monster inside the cave. Harry wished that the ministry car was taking him back to the Burrow. Heck, even the Dursleys would be better than this place. Harry thought grimly looking up at the tall dark house towering in front of him. Snape had to be home and yet the shutters were firmly closed, blocking every single ray of light from entering into his domain. The small garden in front of the house was filled with rows and rows of neatly arranged flowers, but these weren't the ordinary ones you'd see in a typical English garden. No. These were strange unrecognizable plants with enormous spikes, tube like leaves and pitch black flowers that looked more rotten than alive. On the window sill there were jars filled with bubbling liquids of different shapes and colors. They seem to be enveloped in a cloud of multicolored mist. Harry could feel a shiver running down his spine.

Why? Just why couldn't he end up in a normal home? Out of all the people who could have taken him in why did it have to be Snape, the one and only ex death eater who happened to hate his guts. First he was stuck with the Dursleys who hated him because of his mother, now he was stuck with Snape who hated him because of his father. Just fantastic! Harry sighed loudly before accepting the inevitable and starting to walk along the gravel pathway which cut the rows of strange flowers in half. The heavy trunk jolted on the uneven floor making it hard for Harry to walk. The moment he pushed open the iron gates guarded by a gargoyle snake with evil red eyes, all sounds seemed to fade. The chirping of the birds ceased abruptly and the whoosh of the wind died on its tracks. The whole property was enveloped in a bubble of uneasy silence.

Harry tightened his coat around himself, wishing fervently that he was anywhere but here. He walked up to the ebony colored door and before he could loose courage, he rapped on the door sharply, making sure that he was heard. The dull thud of knuckle on wood reverberated strangely inside the puddle of silence, making it sound much louder than it really was. Harry tried to moisten his parched lips with an even drier tongue. A water bottle. He knew he had neglected to pack something at the Burrow. His thoughts flew back to the dozen apples laying inside his trunk. He didn't know what to expect from his stay with Snape. What would the dungeon bat make him do? Where would he make him sleep? Would he even let him eat? He didn't know. The apples, packets of crackers, chips, cake and various other food items were merely a precautional measure. Ten years living with the Dursleys had made him an excellent food smuggler.

The thick heavy door opened with an ominous creak. Out of the dark house stepped out the tall imposing figure of Professor Severus Snape. He was wearing his usual dark bellowing robes and his arms were crossed in front of his chest. He was looking down his formidable nose at a terrified Harry. The moment the cold obsidian eyes met his, Harry felt like bolting out the door and returning to the safety of his protective friends.

"Potter." Snape stated nodding his head in acknowledgement of the young boy's presence.

"Good morning, sir." His voice came out smaller and more high pitched than he had expected. "Professor Dumbledore sent me."

"I'm well aware of why you are here, Mr. Potter." Snape sneered. Reluctantly, he opened the door a little wider. “Get in.” Harry gulped and slipped inside, not knowing what awaited him. He was painfully aware of the fact that Snape used to be a death eater. In fact, it was more than probable that he was still a death eater, biding the right moment to hand him over to the Dark Lord.

Everything was pitch black. No white sunlight. No orange flames coming from a roaring fire, only darkness everywhere. He heard the large door bang shut behind him and he jumped a foot in the air. It felt as if he had suddenly been thrust into the cupboard under the stairs where no light could reach him. Only it was worse, much worse. He could sense the looming figure of his professor watching him closely, his feral eyes seeing even in the darkness.


“The garden, my potions lab and my bedroom are strictly off limits. If I catch you setting so much as one foot on any of these premises, you will sorely regret it.” Snape’s cold voice seemed to come from all around him. Harry tightened his jacket around his body as he began to shiver. It was so cold. Harry never thought that he would miss the Dursleys but right now, if he was given a choice, he would have happily crawled into his cupboard. “Your bedroom is up stairs, on the first door to your right. Do not, under any circumstances, disturb me.” There was a swish of robes and then, suddenly, Snape was gone, leaving Harry completely alone in the dark room. And never in his life had Harry felt more alone than now, in the house of a man who hated him.

He was wet. He could feel his ragged clothes sticking to his body as he lay on the ground, shivering. But whether from the cold or the hunger not even he could tell. He blinked, giving his fog filled mind time to clear itself. It didn’t take long for the pain to take over, bringing with it a flood of ghastly memories. It hurt. It hurt everywhere. His head, his arms, his rumbling stomach but especially his back. It felt as if his skin was on fire. Where was Eva? She would help him. He moaned weakly, licking his cracked lips. Water. He needed water. He didn’t know how long he had been trapped here, completely forgotten but one thing was sure, if he didn’t get some water, there would be no tomorrow to wake up to.

He moaned again, begging to be heard. Water. Someone please, a drop of water. Eva, where are you? I need your help. He tried to push himself up with his palms but his fingers slipped underneath him. His face hit the ground with a dull thud. Wet. He was laying in the middle of a puddle. Oh, thank Merlin. Trembling, he extended his tongue. Its tip met the glossy pool of liquid all around him but instead of fresh water, he felt an unpleasant metallic taste floading his mouth. Blood.

He coughed and splattered as he tried to sit up again. He could feel the bile rising up to his throat. He felt as if he was going to vomit but that was not humanly possible. He had no food or water in his stomach. His cloths were damp and heavy around him, soaked up with blood. He began to tremble. Oh, God, what was happening? Was he injured? Was he dying? Blood. So much blood. It was everywhere. It seemed impossible that a single human body could hold so much blood in it.

Help. He wanted to scream but his voice was gone. They had taken it away from him as they had taken everything else. Oh, God. What was happening? He tried to move, to do something, anything other than sit around waiting for something to happen. The pool of blood sloshed around him as he dragged his unwilling body inch by inch across the floor. He couldn’t do it. The pain was too much.

Help. Someone. Eva? Where was Eva? She would help him. She would hold him and tell him that everything will be alright. She would be strong and firm and kind and gentle as she always was. He just had to find her and everything would be alright. She would…

A ghastly scream tore the air apart. Eva! Another scream, even louder than the first. No! Leave her alone! He ground his teeth and heaved himself up but he felt himself being yanked backwards. His head hit the stone floor with a sickening thud. Everything went black. Somewhere in the distance a man was laughing…

Severus woke up, screaming. He was drenched with sweat and his sheets were bundled up all around him, trapping him on his large wrought iron bed. Eva! He had to go. He had to save her. Severus struggled against the sheets, getting even more entangled in his hurry. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs screamed for air as he kicked and fought. Damn those bastards. What were they doing to her? They won’t hurt her again. He won’t let them. He won’t let them take her away as they had taken away all the others.

Crack! Something large fell on the floor, shattering into a thousand fragments. Severus froze. His eyes took in the vague outline of his desk lamb, lying broken on the cold stone floor. Moonlight streamed from the window illuminating other objects around him. The tall cupboard that reached from floor to ceiling containing all his cloths, the simple wooden chair that sat next to the window with a footstool in front of it, and especially his book shelves. Dozens of bookshelves filled to the brim with novels, all of them worn out with frequent use. Soft, blue light fell onto the spines of his well-loved books, giving them an almost ethereal beauty. Severus’s eyes automatically scanned the shelves for his favorites. Wuthering Heights. Jane Eyre. Great Expectations. All there, exactly as he had left them last night.

Severus let out a deep breath and passed a trembling hand through his hair. A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. He told himself firmly but that was the problem. It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was a memory, something that was buried deep inside him for a long time and now it has decided to resurface.

Damn Potter. It was all that wretched boy’s fault. Just when he was rebuilding a life for himself, putting his past memories aside, Potter had to show up and ruin everything. Six months. That’s how long he hand gone without a single nightmare. Compared to a few years ago when every night he used to wake up screaming, that was a monumental improvement. He had started to hope that they had vanished for good, but now they had returned and all because of the bloody Boy-Who-Lived-To-Torment-Him. Damn him and damn Dumbledore. Why did he, of all people, have to be stuck with Potter? There were millions of people out there who would have jumped at the chance of adopting the saviour of the wizarding world. And what about Professors Minerva, Pomona or Flitwick? Couldn’t they have adopted the boy? Surely both Potter and he would have been happier if he had been given to almost anyone else. But no! The old coot had to insist that he and he alone adopt the boy. And how could he refuse? Dumbledore was the one man that stood between him and a dark cell in Azkaban crawling with Dementors.

So here he was, the adoptive father of one Harry James Potter. Oh, the irony! He didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. I need a drink.