H.P.

‘Harry, Harry.’

There were hands on his shoulders, shaking him roughly. The searing pain faded as he came to, his legs knotted in the bedsheets and his pyjamas damp with sweat. He groaned and twisted away, clutching at his sore throat as a blurry redhead came into view.

Damn. Had his silencing charm failed?

‘S’alright,’ he said, shoving his glasses on so that Ron’s anxious face became clear.

Behind him, Neville hovered, biting his lip. ‘Should I get Professor Snape?’

‘It’s fine. It was just a bad dream,’ Harry said roughly, sitting up.

‘We couldn’t hear you screaming, mate. Not until I opened your curtain.’

His stomach sank. They weren’t stupid – it wasn’t going to be long before they figured out he’d been casting a silencing charm the whole time. ‘You don’t want to hear me screaming the place down. It doesn’t matter anyway; I’m fine.’

Ron didn’t look convinced.

‘I have to tell Professor Snape,’ Neville said, his voice small like he didn’t want them to hear.

Harry gaped. The other boy was twisting his fingers together, standing in his too-long pyjama bottoms. ‘You what?’

‘He said I had to tell him if you were having loads of nightmares or if your scar hurt.’

‘He asked you to spy on me?’ Harry clenched his teeth. What the hell happened to trust?

‘He asked me to get him if you needed anything.'

‘I don’t need anything. It was one nightmare.’ He climbed out of bed and spread his arms wide as though to prove he was fine.

‘I’m not going to know if you’re using a silencing charm. He said I was responsible if anything happens,’ Neville replied.

‘He’s just twisting things to get you to spy on me. I can’t believe you’re going to tell on me to Snape.’

The curtains of Dean’s four-poster were thrown open and the other Gryffindor poked his head out. ‘I thought he was your dad.’

‘Mind your own business,’ Ron snapped, but Dean didn’t take any notice.

‘He’s your dad if any of us say anything about him, but he’s back to being Snape if it means you getting into trouble. Why should Neville take the fall for you when Snape’s being a bigger git than ever?’

‘Yeah, well what happened to house loyalty?’ Ron asked before Harry could reply.

‘Ask him that,’ Dean replied, gesturing at Harry. ‘He’s the one getting Snape involved.’ He scooped up his robes and stomped to the bathroom.

‘If you’re putting up a silencing charm, we won’t know to get help,’ Neville said.

‘It was one time. I won’t do it again.’

Ron bit his lip. ‘Won’t you?’

That stung and Ron’s doubt seemed to decide it for Neville. Snape was a sneaky bastard. Neville was still the same boy who’d stood up to them in first year when they went after the stone. He was going to tell because he thought it was the right thing to do, not because he was terrified of Snape.

Potions was the final class of a rotten day and it dragged. Snape wasn’t letting them anywhere near the store cupboard, so they were stuck doing bookwork and watching demonstrations, with the students taking it in turns to carry out the potion’s steps at the front of the class. 

When Snape called Neville up to dice the dandelion stems, the Gryffindor looked as though he might sick up.

Ron made an irritated noise under his breath as Neville made his way to the front.

‘Thought you were on his side,’ Harry muttered.

‘You don’t need a spell in the Tower, but that’s between us Gryffindors. You don’t tell.’

‘Mr Potter, Mr Weasley,’ Snape’s voice rang out sharply. ‘Would you like to lead the remainder of the demonstration? You’ve no doubt got scintillating opinions on this potion’s brewing to share with the rest of the class.’

Sarcastic git. ‘No, sir.’

Ron didn’t bother to echo the reply until Snape narrowed his eyes. He couldn't seem to decide who he was more outraged at, Neville or Snape. That was easy enough for Harry, Neville was just doing what he was told; it was Snape who'd gone and asked him to spy on Harry.

He’d said he could go back to the Tower, hadn’t he? But Snape didn’t trust him. He kept his secrets too – Snape hadn’t said anything about the board meeting or facing suspension. It was alright for Snape to have his secrets, but Harry wasn’t even allowed to manage his own nightmares.

When the class was finally over, Neville hung back, clutching his books to his chest like they might offer some protection. Hermione hovered at the door when she realised Harry and Ron weren’t coming either.

On Snape confused just looked like another variation of angry. He glared at each of them in turn, but Harry could practically see the cogs turning behind his eyes.

'Someone speak or you can make yourselves useful scrubbing the desks. Look at me like that again, Weasley, and you will be doing it all night until they are spotless.'

'I–You said to tell you if–' Neville began, his eyes darting from the Gryffindors to Snape, clearly torn between fear and guilt for completely and utterly dropping Harry in it.

'I'll tell him myself,' Harry interrupted impatiently. He hardly wanted everyone there if he and Snape were going to argue again.

'Longbottom, speak. You,' he rounded on Harry, 'be quiet.'

'I- You said to-to tell you if Harry’s been having nightmares,' Neville said in a voice so small it was practically a whisper.

‘How often?’

‘I don’t know. I only found out now,’ Neville replied, sending Harry a silent look of apology.

Snape stilled. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ he asked, his voice dangerously low.

‘I can tell him myself,’ Harry repeated.

‘The rest of you, out,' Snape erupted, his expression becoming thunderous. ‘Out,’ he repeated, slamming the door open with his wand.

Neville squeaked with fear and even Harry took a step back.

Ron gave Harry a doubtful look as Snape shut the door in his face, locking it with a charm.

‘Tell me what? What did you do?’

He wasn't the only one who was angry. 'You asked my friends to spy on me?' Harry’s own tone was coloured by a mix of incredulity and indignation.

‘Do I have to drag Longbottom back in here? What did you do?’

Harry swallowed. ‘I used a silencing charm.’

Snape’s reaction was almost imperceptible, but his back went rigid. The quiet, deliberate tone he spoke with next was somehow filled with more anger and disappointment than Harry had ever heard from him. 'I suggest you think through every single word you utter because you are in more trouble than you can imagine. In fact, if I were you, I would keep my mouth shut until invited to speak.'

'I know you're angry–'

'You think I'm angry? I'm disgusted. I allowed you back to your dormitory against my better judgement and at your request because I thought you were mature enough to be honest with me. After what you have done you have the gall to criticise me? I had to explain to one of your little friends that they need to summon me immediately in the event that you are tortured through your scar. You remember that, do you? You remember the pain you experienced when the Dark Lord had not yet even returned? You remember how you screamed, how you scratched at yourself until you bled? Now that he is back, you tell me how much worse you expect the torture to be. You think nerve damage is the worst he can do to you?'

Harry took a tremulous breath. 'It wasn't for that; I just used it for the nightmares.'

'It didn't occur to you that when you suffer nightmares is when your mind is most vulnerable? And if he broke through your shields and you've got your silencing charm up, how long could he torture you for? How long?’ he barked when Harry didn’t immediately answer.

'Hours,' he whispered.

'He could torture you for hours and we've already surmised that the pain will be far more extreme than during your previous attacks, have we not? Have. We. Not?'

'Yes, sir.' His answer was almost inaudible.

'Tell me then, what would happen if you were tortured for hours through your scar by the Dark Lord at the height of his powers?'

'It would hurt a lot.' That answer did nothing to satisfy Snape and Harry looked down at his hands as they twitched with one of the spasms he despised. 'I might hurt myself or get more nerve damage.'

'You aren't done yet,' Snape snapped. 'This is what it's like to think things through and you aren't done. What else?'

'I- I don't...' Harry felt a shiver course through him as he recalled Voldemort taunts, telling him he could lose his mind through torture. Neville had told him that his parents had been tortured so much that they weren’t themselves anymore. 'I could go mad and maybe, uh, die.'

'Yes, you could die. Your heart could stop beating before we knew you needed help. You could choke on your vomit. You could have a fit and break your neck. Or I could have a son who doesn't know who he is. I could have to quit my job and take care of you full time because you can’t take care of your own basic needs. Don't you look down, you look at me. Explain to me what you were thinking from the very beginning. Now.'

Harry gaped silently, hating the look on Snape's face. He wished he were anywhere but there. 'I– I asked to go back to the dormitories because–'

'I said look at me and tell me,' Snape interrupted.

'I wanted my friends back and I- I was having nightmares every night I didn't take the potion. I couldn't use a silencing charm at home because you'd notice.'

'You do not need a silencing charm at home,' Snape returned furiously. Harry tried to stop his breathing coming out in irregular gasps that only made it more obvious he was trying not to cry. 'Why did you want to use a silencing charm at home?'

Harry made two abortive attempts to speak and when he did get the words out, tears spilled down his cheeks. 'You were waking me up three or four nights a week.'

Snape shook his head slightly and stared down at him as if he were some creature that he could not fathom. Harry looked away, his chest constricting tightly with an awful mixture of guilt and shame. 'I'm sorry,' he whispered, staring in the vague direction of Snape's shoes.

'You are moving back to my quarters until I deem you well enough and trustworthy enough to sleep in the dormitories. You are grounded and will return home straight after dinner every weeknight. There will be no Hogsmeade weekends for you and I will be confiscating your invisibility cloak to ensure that my rules are adhered to as I obviously cannot trust your word.' Snape moved so that he loomed over him. 'If I ever find out that you have cast that spell on yourself again, I will confiscate your wand and you will live in my quarters like a muggle. Do I need to drill that any further into your thick skull?'

S.S.

He felt sick, foul-tasting bile in his throat, stomach churningly sick. Waves of hot and cold coursed through him from head to toe. Harry was in his room, but he wasn’t safe. How could he ever be safe when he refused to learn?

He’d tried everything: punishments, detention, yelling, essays, nothing worked. Nothing made Harry think for one moment about his safety. He was going to lose him. He couldn’t even keep Harry safe while he slept let alone when he was gallivanting around the castle fighting dementors and basilisks.

He snatched up the floo pot. He was desperate.

'Lupin, I’m coming through,' he announced to the empty study, loud enough that he should hear it if he were in the next room.

The other man appeared suddenly in the doorway, doing nothing to hide his surprise.

'Now?'

'Obviously now,' he snapped.

'You can come through but-'

Severus didn't bother waiting for him to finish and retreated from the fire. He tossed down the floo powder and stepped through, surprised to see another figure waiting behind Lupin. An unwelcome figure.

'Ah, I was about to say that Sirius is here,' Lupin said looking between the two men. 'Is this about Harry?'

Severus glared at the idiotic question. Why else would he be there if it wasn't about Harry? His own judgement had proven to be inadequate on more than one occasion and this was not a situation in which he could afford the slightest error.

'Come in.' Lupin led the way to the kitchen, tapping the kettle to set it to boil. 'Is Harry okay?'

'He is not in any immediate danger,' he ground out through gritted teeth. He was already on edge and Black's presence was doing nothing for his temper.

Lupin waved an irritated hand at Black and the other man settled himself into one of his aged kitchen chairs. Black glared across the room but kept whatever immature thoughts he had to himself, for once. Severus had no intention of distracting himself with a screaming match and turned away, having to satisfy himself with pretending the mutt wasn't in the room.

He didn't sit, he was too agitated to be still and set to pacing back and forth across the room.

'Longbottom has informed me that Harry has been casting a silencing charm on himself at night.'

'Ah.' Lupin winced slightly. 'Have you spoken to Harry already?'

'Yes.'

'Ah,' he said again, and Severus stopped pacing to round on him.

'Do you have anything more than one syllable exclamations to contribute or am I wasting my breath?'

'A bit more to go on might help. What did he say when you- er- spoke to him?'

'He didn't think it was important; he didn't think about the consequences. It didn't cross his stupid little mind that the Dark Lord could have attacked him through his scar. The manipulative little twit told me that he thought he would sleep better in his dormitories than in his room.'

'The kid's got friends, he's not going to want to be stuck in the dungeons while his mates are all up in the Tower,' Black said.

Severus whipped around where he stood, seeing red. 'You understand why sleeping up in that tower is worth the risk that he'll be tortured to death through his scar with no one knowing he needed help? Maybe I'm over-reacting; he might not die, he might just significantly worsen his muscle condition, he could just break his spine and become paralysed or he might just lose his mind.'

'We get the picture,' Lupin interrupted, his voice irritatingly calm. 'Was that his explanation? He wanted to go back to the Tower?'

'Yes, and some rubbish about not waking me with his nightmares.'

'You've punished him I take it?'

'He's moving back to my quarters, he's grounded, I'm taking his invisibility cloak and he's not going to Hogsmeade.'

'You going to take away the air he breathes too?' Black asked.

'He risked his life without a second thought. I cannot trust him to take the threat against his life seriously. I can't even trust that he would put his life and sanity above mildly inconveniencing me. What am I supposed to do? This cannot happen again, nothing like this can ever happen again. Well?' He looked between the two men.

Lupin pulled a battered mug out of the cupboard and poured him a cup of tea. ‘Before Hogwarts, Harry spent all the childhood he can remember being taught that he was worth less than everyone else. Then he came to Hogwarts and he’s famous for being the Boy-Who-Lived and he gets praise for stopping Quirrell and saving a student from a basilisk. In effect, for being heroic and, well, selfless.’

Severus needed no reminder that the headmaster had no problem reinforcing Harry’s propensity to sacrifice his life or his safety.

Severus sat, finally. 'I know all this, and I have explained to him that he should never have been put in a position to do those things. He wrote me an essay after the fiasco at the Quidditch World Cup, but it doesn’t sink in.'

‘An essay isn’t going to change the way he thinks about himself. I’m guessing from the way you came here that you gave him quite a thorough telling off?’ Lupin asked, joining them at the table.

‘For putting his life in danger for the sake of not disturbing my sleep? Yes, I told him off. He has to learn.’ The smell of the tea was fortifying. He reflexively curled his fingers around the mug, soaking up the warmth.

‘He has learned,’ Lupin insisted gently. ‘He’s spent a decade learning that he’s worthless and then another three learning that he’ll be praised for putting that into practice. I think you’re expecting too much of him and of yourself if you think you can change what he spent fourteen years having drilled into him in the few months he’s lived with you.’

‘I know what he’s been through. Understanding isn’t going to stop the Dark Lord from torturing him through his scar. I need to make him consider his own safety before he makes another idiotic decision.’

‘I don’t think you can, or at least not as quickly as you need to.’ Lupin hesitated. ‘Someone qualified might have a chance at helping him though.’

'A therapist.' Why didn't he consider a professional before? Harry's issues weren't minor by any means and if he wouldn't even speak to Severus... ‘This was useful.’ More than useful. This was worth having made Lupin Harry’s godfather.

‘Snape,’ Black said as Severus stood to take his leave. ‘This war could go on for a while. You train with him, you teach him, you’re always punishing him, is he going to look back and tell his children that he treasures the memory of you dressing up as a Death Eater when he was so traumatised he could barely sleep at night?’

‘You know nothing about what Harry needs,’ he hissed.

‘He needs more than lessons and punishments. He’s always in trouble, and he’ll always be in danger. When is the good part of this adoption?’

H.P.

He woke with a start and a throat sore from screaming. His room was almost pitch black and he lay perfectly still, trying to work out why his senses were still telling him that something was wrong. It took a good twenty seconds before it hit him that it was still dark, and he was alone. There wasn't even the sound of Snape gathering his dressing gown or dropping his book and hurrying across his quarters. It was completely silent.

Of course, he wasn't coming; why would he when Harry had made it perfectly clear that he would rather be tortured to death or insanity than have Snape's help? He'd expect him to deal with it by himself like he'd wanted to with the charm in the dormitories. No doubt he'd help him if he was being tortured but if it was just a nightmare like every night when he saw Dobby die again and again or when he felt like he was still being crucioed over and over and Voldemort caught Snape and he tortured him too and he died like his mum and dad and he was in a great pool of blood and his eyes were open and staring and empty...

He took in a great shuddering breath, his eyes wet and burning. He was disgusted with him, that's what he'd said, disgusted. He probably didn't even want to adopt him anymore, not some child he was disgusted with and disappointed in. He deserved to have to deal with these nightmares alone now, but knowing it was what he deserved and it was all his fault didn't make it any better. It just made everything hurt more because his apology hadn't fixed anything.

At the feel of a sudden pressure on his back Harry twisted and lashed out in a panic. Snape caught his arm easily but with a scowl. He waved the lights on with his wand. 'It was a dream, you are home, you are safe. It is over.' Snape scowled more deeply when he caught sight of Harry in the light and stared at him as if he was a potion he couldn't get quite the right shade. 'It is over,' he repeated.

Harry nodded jerkily to show he understood, and Snape let go of his arm to hand him a glass of water. 'Worse dreams than usual?' he asked, still regarding Harry carefully. He gave an awkward shoulder twitch in reply as he drained his glass. Snape took it out of his grip, knowing his co-ordination and movement was worse at night. 'Do you wish to discuss it?'

Harry frowned, wondering why he was bothering to act normal now. 'I can occlude in a bit, you can–' he looked at Snape anew, taking in his robes and shoes. 'You're going out?'

'I've just come in.'

'Oh.'

Snape sighed and shook his head slowly and not a little tiredly. 'I cannot fathom how your mind works.' He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture which was a sure signal that the man was stressed. 'I did not think that you would sleep so early, and I meant to be back before now. I have no intention of using your nightmares to punish you.'

'I didn't say you would.'

'You thought that was what I was doing. You thought that I would listen to you scream and cry and abandon you to it.'

Harry stared at the criss-crossing pattern on his duvet. 'I thought you reckoned I deserved it because of the charm. I pretty much asked for it.'

'I do not know if you realise how insulting that is. Show me that you can occlude and I will leave you to read. We can talk in the morning when you are... more yourself.' Harry figured that must be Snape code for less distraught. 

Snape tapped his fingers lightly on the kitchen table as if he had been waiting a good deal of time for Harry to join him for breakfast.

'Hands,' he barked when Harry twisted them tightly behind his back. It was a habit he despised and he had no end of commentary about the damage Harry would do to his joints. He knew it was more that Snape didn't like to see such an obvious physical sign that he was self-conscious. He dropped into his seat and winced as he put them on the table.

'Explain to me again exactly what went through your imbecilic mind when you cast that charm.'

'We talked about it yesterday and you've already punished me-'

Severus cut him off abruptly. 'This is not an issue that we visit once and then put aside as if it is over and done with, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with punishment. I don't believe you understand quite how serious this is.'

'I do,' Harry insisted. 'I understand about how I could have died or ended up in St Mungo's. I didn't think, okay? I know it's not an excuse but it's just how it is.'

'You didn't think. So, not at any moment did it cross your mind that you were putting yourself in danger? Not even for a second? Not even knowing that every night after you had a nightmare, I made sure you were occluding before allowing you back to sleep?'

'I just figured it would probably be fine,' Harry shrugged. It was the truth but evidently not what Snape wanted to hear.

'You thought it was a gamble worth making?' he asked, his voice so low and dangerous it was practically a hiss.

'Not consciously,' Harry replied, looking down at the table and picking at the edge of the wood. 'I didn't actually think about it and then decide.'

'I want to understand what decision-making process you went through. So, explain exactly what went through your head.'

'I did already. My friends still don't like this,' he gestured vaguely between them. 'It's making things difficult, so I thought that if I could go back to the dormitories they would see that things weren't really different just because you– because of the guardianship. And it wasn't just that. I wake you up at least three nights a week...'

'You're telling me that in a list of disturbing my sleep for half an hour or so during the night three times a week, your friends wanting you back in the dormitory and your life and sanity, that the latter, in your mind, automatically takes lowest priority?'

He felt his face flood with heat. 'I'm sorry, all right? I didn't think about it; I just didn't want to wake everyone up screaming every night and I thought it would make everyone happier.'

'Ignoring the danger to your physical and mental health, you thought everyone would be happier if you cast a silencing charm on yourself while you endured horrendous nightmares at least three nights a week? That's what you thought?'

'Stop looking at me like I'm mental. You wouldn't like it either if you were a massive bother for everyone.'

'I'm your father; it's my job to look after you,' Snape replied, his voice rough with anger. 'If that means waking you up during the night for the foreseeable future then so be it.'

'They aren't getting better. I'm not getting better. You might as well just leave me to deal with them; they're just going to get worse and I'm going to get more messed up.'

Snape shook his head. 'I have absolutely no intention of leaving you to deal with anything alone. I'm going to organise for you to see someone who can help you.'

Harry narrowed his eyes with suspicion. ‘Help me what?'

Snape leaned back and crossed his arms. That was never a good sign. That meant he wanted to see how he would react. Snape never said anything good when he did that. 'There are people who know a good deal about trauma.'

'Oh, God,’ Harry exclaimed with dread. ‘I'm not going to St Mungo's. I'm not mad.'

'I know you're not mad and I'm not talking about St Mungo's. There are people who are qualified to help you deal with trauma and the associated issues, the nightmares, the stress. You need someone who might be able to persuade you that your health and safety does not come last, and I am not getting through to you.'

Harry shook his head, pushing himself away from the table. 'No, I know about looking after myself; it's you who's seeing it wrong. Normal people don't have to think about attempted murder when they go to the Quidditch World Cup or when they go to school or in their sleep, and sometimes I mess up, but it's not because I'm mental.'

'That is reason alone to speak to someone, is it not?' Snape said, his voice irritatingly calm. He only did that when he'd gone and decided he was right and as far as he was concerned that was that. 'You deal with a ridiculous amount of stress for anyone, let alone a fourteen-year-old child. And there is more that weighs on your mind than just the Dark Lord. You have had a dramatic shift in familial circumstances that is difficult enough even if we did not factor in the fact that it is me who is adopting you. It goes without saying that I want you to talk about the Dursleys.'

'I'm not with the Dursleys, so problem solved. Besides, you said I could talk to you.’

'You don't talk to me about it. You refuse every single time it comes up. I'm going to arrange for you to meet with a therapist.'

'No.' He punctuated his assertion with a firm shake of his head.

'I'm not giving you a choice,' Snape said, getting to his feet as though that was it and the conversation was over.

'You can't make me. I'm not even adopted yet.’

Snape paused then and then he slowly dropped his hands flat onto the table and leant towards Harry. The look on his face was fierce. 'I can't force you to speak when you're in the room with them, but you'll damn well sit there every hour I pay for. You do not get to pick and choose what aspects of adoption you want. Don't you dare try to use the fact that the adoption has not been finalised against me.’