Before the Dawn – Chapter 3

By jharad17

Disclaimer: Not mine now. Never was. Never will be. World without end.

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

When one of the Hufflepuff's cauldrons started to smoke, he was almost glad for the diversion. Yelling at students was far easier than considering how to deal with his wayward ward.

Severus hesitated a long moment after dismissing his last class of the day and before he stepped through the Floo back to his quarters. He was concerned with how Harry was faring, especially after Miss Granger's interruption that morning. He was concerned . . . but he was also nervous. He had faced the Dark Lord, been cursed dozens of times, played the spy for both Light and Dark for almost a score of years, and yet he, Severus Snape, was afraid to go home, for fear of what he might find.

Though he had come to care for Harry, almost as if he were his son, he could admit that he was exhausted, emotionally and physically, from dealing with the boy. He had not known - how could he? - how much Harry had been through in his life before ever reaching Hogwarts. And he had only known a fraction of the tragic "adventures" Harry had been through during his first five years at school.

And now . . .

With the events of the summer, the kidnapping and torture - both physical and psychological - the horror of that last night in Topsham, and the following weeks of possession and night terrors and the apparent betrayal of Dumbledore . . . it had been hard on Harry, yes. But it had been almost as difficult for Severus, who had been trying to remain calm and accepting, helping the boy while subsuming his own emotions and reactions. There had been so many times he had wanted to lash out, or just give up.

But Harry . . . Harry needed him. Someone actually needed him, for the first time in his life. And so, for Harry, he persevered.

And so, for Harry, he went through the Floo.

Harry was not in the sitting room, and Severus took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders, and strode to the boy's bedroom door.

His knock went unanswered.

Dread curled low in his gut. He should have come down sooner, right after Miss Granger came to see him. He knocked again harder, longer. When that, too, went unanswered, Severus drew his wand and attempted to open the door. It was locked, and Severus immediately recalled the day, soon after Harry had woken from his fugue state, when he had been in the Dark Lord's thrall and had locked his door with a series of powerful spells.

This time, the door opened with a simple Alohomora.

Severus pushed the door open wide, having no idea what to expect. He was pretty sure, however, that finding Harry slumped over his desk with his forehead cupped in the palm of one hand and a quill dangling from his fingers, was not it.

Peering over the boy's shoulder, Severus took a gander at what Harry was working on. He recognized Harry's journal immediately. And though he knew he should back away and not read the boy's private maunderings, his gaze was drawn to the messy scrawl when he caught the words, "fingertips are numb."

With a scowl, Severus traced back to the beginning of the entry, wondering what else the boy was hiding from him.

September 13th, 3:37pm

I've had a bunch of visitors today, more than any day since the start of school. I know Hermione's been busy and all, but I'd hoped she could come around more. And Ron . . . well, he's just being a git about Snape, but I expected that.

Hermione asked me to come up to the Tower, and I said no, that Ron and them should come down here. She basically called me coward for hiding out here. She's right, I know. Just wish I could make everything better by just agreeing with her. I told her what I did to L. Malfoy . . . and she looked at me like I'm a monster. She's right about that, too. Dursleys shoulda beaten the freakiness outta me. Then I wouldn't have hurt anyone. Then I wouldn't hurt anymore.

Draco didn't seem to think that, though. That I did a bad thing, I mean. He came by, said I looked like hell. It's true. I mean, I'm not sleeping, hardly, and the spell isn't working so good anymore. Cast it two more times, once before lunch and once after, and I swear my fingertips are numb. It's hard to hold my wand steady, though I held it steady enough on Draco before I let him in.

I should look up that spell again, make sure there aren't any bad side effects I missed. But . . . but I can't remember what book it's in.

Besides, it's the only thing keeping me awake, and I can't fall asleep, just can't, or el-

Seething, Severus clenched his hands into fists and glared at the boy. So Miss Granger thought Harry was a coward, eh? And that he was a monster for defending himself? He growled over that for a minute before he could tackle the real source of his ire. The little idiot! Forcing himself to stay awake? Casting a spell on himself - repeatedly! - without knowing the side effects? Casting it again, even after his extremities started getting numb? And worst, still blaming himself for what happened at the Ministry! It took all his willpower to not shake the boy awake and knock some sense into him.

Instead, taking deep, measured breaths, Severus paced Harry's room. What in the hell was he going to do with the boy? He had made every accommodation possible to ensure Harry could deal with his classes and being at school, but it seemed the setting was still too overwhelming for him. Perhaps . . . No, he had promised not to go that route unless Harry forced his hand, by causing himself harm. And despite the brat's idiocy in using a spell he didn't fully understand, he did not seem to be actively suicidal.

But Severus just didn't know what to do anymore.

His musings were cut short when a piercing cry rent the silence, followed by stuttering breaths as if someone were choking.

Harry was bent backwards in his chair, hands scrabbling for purchase on the desktop, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. Even as Severus was reaching for Harry's shoulder, to wake him, he could see the boy's eyes were rolled back in his head - lids still closed - and his jaw was working as if he were trying to scream but had no breath to do so. Horrible retching, choked sounds emerged from his throat instead.

"Harry!" Severus grabbed his shoulder and was not surprised when Harry wrenched himself out of his grip and flung himself half way across the room. And yet, still, he seemed not to wake. His body shook, hands trembling so hard Severus ached to hold them, steady them.

"No!" the boy croaked. "Nuhn! Please . . . don'!"

"Harry!" Severus snapped again; sharp, like a whip crack. "Wake up!"

"Please . . . m'sorry." Harry scrambled backwards like a crab. When he hit the wall, his hands went up to protect his face, his head. What horror was he reliving in his dream this time, Severus wondered. The Dark Lord's torture, or his Muggle uncle's abuse? "Please . . . nuhn!"

The anguish in Harry's plea tore at Severus' calm façade. He had to get the boy to wake up, but without actually touching him. He drew his wand again. "Congelo Tactus," he intoned and doused Harry with - the sensation only - of a bucketful of freezing water, without actually getting any water on the boy . . . or his floor.

Harry gasped and sputtered. His eyes flew open. Panting for breath, he leaned forward to rest his hands on the floor, and shook his head. "Wha . . . where?"

"You're in your room," Severus told him. "I woke you from a nightmare."

"What?" Harry's voice was still rough, even though he had only been choked in the dream. "Wha' time zit?"

Severus cast a quick Tempus charm. "Just after half four."

"Morning?" Harry rocked back to sit on his heels and rubbed his hands over his face. He looked very small, just now. Vulnerable. Exhausted. How had Severus not seen this before?

"Afternoon," he said quietly. "Did you have lunch?"

Harry nodded absently, and Severus knew he was lying.

"What did you have?"

With a one shoulder shrug, Harry shut his eyes briefly. "Don't 'member."

"Did you actually eat anything?" When Harry hesitated, Severus barked, "Look at me! If you're going to lie, at least do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye when you do."

Harry's gaze snapped to meet his, his eyes wide and bloodshot. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Surely that wasn't possible! "S-sorry, sir. I d-didn't eat any lunch. Wasn't hungry. B-but Dobby did bring it."

"A technicality at best."

"Y-yes, sir. Sorry."

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he opened them again, Harry was still on his knees like a penitent or some such foolishness. "Get up. Come out to the sitting room. We need to talk." He paused. "I'm making tea."

Ignoring the groan of protest from the boy, Severus went to their tiny kitchen and spent the next few minutes heating water and steeping tea leaves. He ran warm water in the cups to prepare them, and set up a tray with milk and sugar, and even added a plate of raspberry filled biscuits. The simple ritual of preparation was a calming influence in itself, and Severus used the time to master his emotions and organize his thoughts.

By the time he emerged from the kitchen, Harry was seated at one end of the settee, feet drawn up under him and knees in front of his chest, in a classic defensive position. Severus lowered the tea tray from where he had levitated it, and gestured for Harry to take a cup.

With a small, put-upon sigh, Harry did so, fixing it to his taste before leaning back. After a moment, one side of his mouth quirked up. "Draco was here earlier. I almost offered him tea. Decided against it."

"Mm," Severus said, deciding a non-committal sound was best.

"Don't you want to know what he wanted?"

Of course he did. But that wasn't the most important thing right now. "Not particularly," he said quietly, then added, a bit more honestly, "Or, not right now, at least. I'm more interested in what your nightmare was about, and why you fell asleep in the middle of the day in the first place."

"I was tired."

"I imagine so." Severus tried to keep his tone mild. "The question is why. I was under the impression you were sleeping well enough at night, with one or two exceptions." Please don't lie to me, he thought furiously, while trying to keep that wish from manifesting in his expression.

"I'm fine."

"That's not what I asked."

"I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to tell me the truth!"

"That's . . ." Harry shook his head and avoided Severus' gaze, and when he spoke again, he sounded defeated. "That's not possible."

"What isn't?" Severus prodded, starting to feel a bit irritated. How could he help the boy, if he wouldn't say what was wrong? "You telling me what's truly going on, or me wanting to hear it?"

"Both," Harry whispered. His eyes closed again, as if it were simply too difficult to keep them open anymore.

"How about I worry about what I can handle and determine my own thoughts and feelings, and you just keep your mind on your own."

Harry looked up at him blearily. "Huh?"

"Eloquent as always," Severus said, but there was no bite to his remark. "Tell me what's going on. Why can't you sleep?"

"Nightmares." The word was spoken softly, but carried an infinitely sharp edge.

"About?"

"Everything." Harry shrugged. His shrugs had a variety of meanings, Severus was learning. This one meant he was afraid to say more. But why? Did he fear a flashback, or that Severus would not believe him?

"That's a fairly broad term. Care to narrow it down a bit?"

A one shoulder shrug, meaning he would if he could, but had no place to start from and needed a nudge.

"The nightmare you just had," Severus offered as a starting point. "When you were in the midst, you were saying 'no' and 'please' and 'sorry.' What was that one about?"

Harry bit his lip and turned his face away. Severus felt bad for pushing, when Harry was so obviously distressed, but he had let this particular problem go on long enough already.

"Harry. Answer the question."

The boy glanced at him and mumbled something. Severus lifted a single eyebrow, just enough to make it clear he was unsatisfied with the answer. "Sorry," Harry murmured, then drew a steadying breath. "Was my uncle," he said more clearly.

"Your uncle." Severus nodded. "And what happened in the nightmare?"

"N-nothing." If the stuttering had not given him away, the refusal to meet Severus' gaze would have.

"Oh? You often have nightmares in which nothing happens?" Severus frowned as soon as the words left his mouth. He didn't mean to mock the boy's feeble attempt to deny the problem. But neither could he let the dissembling stand. "The sooner you tell me, the sooner you can let the thing go. Nightmares are somewhat like poison," he continued in a calm tone, sensing he had slid into lecturing mode. "Talking about them, bringing them into the light of day, is like leaching that poison away. Purging it. You'll feel better," he added when Harry only looked confused.

"I don't know . . ."

"It's all right, Harry," Severus said soothingly. "You're doing well. Tell me what happened."

"It . . . it never happened, all right?" Harry wrung his hands together. "Not . . . I mean, he never did that, not really, but just . . . just in the nightmare. Okay?"

"All right," Severus agreed, not sure what he was agreeing to, but willing to play along if it would get Harry to talk. "What happened in the nightmare?"

"He . . . I mean, my Uncle Vernon, he . . . he hurt me."

"Harry," Severus said carefully and watched the boy's expression, "your uncle did hurt you, before they left you alone." To die, he wanted to add, but did not, as he did not want to upset Harry further about an unrelated topic.

Harry flinched but nodded. "But he never . . . he never . . ." He wrapped his arms around his chest.

"He never what?" Severus was almost certain he knew what Harry was going to say, but Harry needed to say it, needed to purge those images, those false memories, before the poison had a chance to fester.

Harry clamped his eyes shut and hunched up his shoulders. "He never raped me."

"Good. I'm glad you could tell me," Severus said calmly. "That's good. But in this nightmare, he did?"

Harry nodded and swallowed hard. His hands were trembling again, and he clasped them together on top of his knees. "It . . . it was right after he killed He-Hedwig. There . . . there was blood everywhere. I slipped it in and fell, and h-he fell on top of me, and," Harry paused and swiped violently as his eyes, dashing away the first vestiges of tears before they had a real chance to form. "And I told him I was sorry . . . I bloody apologized 'cause Hedwig's being dead was so messy it made him fall, and that's when . . . that's when . . ."

"He raped you."

"But not really! Honest!" The tears were falling freely now, and Severus was glad to see them; this child could stand to shed a thousand times more tears.

"I know. You said."

"He didn't."

"All right," Severus said agreeably, wondering if this could be a case of protesting too much, and hoping against hope that it was not. Harry had quite enough to be going on with as it was. "Did anything else happen? Before I woke you up?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"It sounded for a bit like you were choking. . . ."

"Oh." A shrug, this one meaning what he was about to say was of no consequence. "He always did that."

Severus tasted something sour in the back of his throat. "He always choked you?" A nod. "Explain."

"What's to explain?" Harry was watching him now, looking puzzled. "Was his favorite way to keep the freak in line, is all."

"Harry . . ."

"Sorry, I meant, favorite way to keep me in line."

Though he had heard Harry use the term "freak" any number of times, when he described how his relatives treated him, he had never heard it said in such a matter-of-fact way, so devoid of any emotion or sense that the term was inappropriate to use on him. He wondered if it had anything to do with Miss Granger's earlier visit, and Harry considering himself a monster.

But first things first. "You said - you told me specifically when we spoke of this abhorrent behavior before - that you had been choked 'a couple of times.'"

Harry's frown of puzzlement deepened. "Yeah . . . ?"

Severus took a breath and unclenched his jaw. "How many then, in your estimation, is 'a couple'?"

"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.

TBC….

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