"Can’t I have more dreamless sleep?" Harry asked Snape, who was sitting across the table from him, staring angrily while Harry mixed the foods on his plate with his fork. He didn’t quite understand why Snape was so angry. The man didn’t have to sit there and watch him pretend to eat. He wasn’t hungry, so this was all really pointless, anyway.
"No."
"But I’m not hungry when I have the nightmares," Harry pointed out. Did he just not understand?
"Continuing to take the potion will not help you."
"I can sleep," Harry continued to argue. "And I eat."
"That is not your problem."
"Of course it is!" Harry shouted. "I take the potion, I sleep, I eat fine the next day. It is the problem!"
"You are merely telling yourself that because you don’t wish to face your true problem."
"Which is . . ." Harry spat, pushing his plate away.
"That you are emotionally unstable."
"I am not!" Harry argued.
"Your dreams would suggest otherwise."
Harry had enough. He glared at the man and stood up quickly, knocking over his chair, before he left the room quickly.
He found himself once again staring at the especially boring ceiling of the room, but it wasn’t as if there were any other points in the room that were any better. At least with the ceiling he was laying on his back.
But laying down meant more chance to fall asleep. Harry didn’t want that.
He sat up, setting up the pillow between him and the headboard so it would support his back and set his eyes to stare at the wardrobe that was now in front of him. Who knew that there were so many colors in dark, stained wood? Definitely more interesting than the plain, white ceiling.
Snape didn’t leave him alone very long this time, and Harry scowled at him as he entered the room without knocking. Not that he closed the door. He reminded himself to do so (and lock it) at future times.
Harry ignored Snape as the man stood in the doorway, crossed-armed. It was weird how, when he looked at the wardrobe straight on and squinting his eyes, Snape almost looked like a ghost.
"What are your dreams telling you, Potter?" Snape asked.
"That everything would be better off if I gave myself up," Harry answered flatly. He already told the man that.
"That is not what I am asking. Look at your dream without your emotions tied in. From my view."
"Your view?" Harry asked. Harry tried, barely, and he couldn’t come up with anything. He shrugged. "Same thing."
"Your dreams are pointing out that you feel guilty. They are not saying you are. You need to let go of these selfish feelings."
"I’m not feeling selfish," Harry argued. "How is giving myself up be selfish? I doing it for everyone else."
"No, you wouldn’t be. You would be doing it because you feel guilty. No one is blaming you for any of it. It is in your head."
"You’re calling me mad!" Harry shouted.
"Perhaps you are. Perhaps you need to be committed to the mental ward at St. Mungos."
"You wish. They you’d be rid of me and you could hate me at a distance instead of here in your house. You’d love to be rid of me for good," Harry commented.
"I’d like it if you would behave and stop feeling sorry for yourself."
"Hmph," Harry said, angry still.
"Get to sleep. Clear your mind, think good thoughts, and go to sleep," Snape sneered. "I will wake you for dinner."
Snape left and Harry didn’t move, keeping his arms crossed and continued staring at the wardrobe.
Sleep. Yeah, right. Why? To have another nightmare?
Thinking good thoughts might not be so bad. How he wished to go flying. That would make him feel better. He hadn’t been on a broom for so long. Riding on the thestrals just wasn’t the same. Especially since that ride ended so bad . . .
He walked along, alone. The road was marked by bleeding skulls, and the smell of blood was starting to make him sick. He was supposed to be heading toward somewhere, but he wasn’t sure if he was going the right way. Something, a ghost, maybe, was trying to point him off the road. Trying to convince him that the road was leading him down the wrong path.Not realizing he had made a decision, he took a turn and took a few steps past the skulls, falling into the lake of blood. Trying to get back to the path, he noticed that the skulls were actually solid forms of the Dark Mark. Further, above the path, a bright Dark Mark floated in the sky.
He wanted out of the blood. The blood was horrible, and it was not safe. He wanted the path, scary as it was. The path had very little blood. It was surely the safest path . . .
" . . . eat, Potter."
"Huh?" Harry asked, pushing away the covers. How did he get covered, anyway? They reminded him too much of the blood . . .
"I said it is time to eat. Did you sleep well?"
"No," Harry spat.
"Another nightmare then."
Snape prompted Harry to tell him the details. Although reluctant, Harry did, with as much detail as he could. He wanted Snape to understand how horrible the dreams were!
"I see," Snape said afterwards. "What were you thinking about before you fell asleep?"
"Flying," Harry answered. "Flying on brooms and thestrals, and how I want to fly."
"Perhaps later," Snape answered. "Did you clear your mind?"
"I fell asleep," Harry replied.
"Therefore, you didn’t. I believe if you clear your mind, it will help you with your dreams."
"Oh, shove off," Harry said and Harry jumped as Snape stepped towards him.
"You will eat now . . . everything, and we will discuss what I believe your dreams are saying at a later time. When I know more."
Harry glared at Snape as he got off the bed, his shoes still on. He knew he had to eat now or Snape would find a way to force the food down his throat. He just hoped he could keep it down.