Start of time by Hopeless Wanderer

Chapter five.

Now

When Harry was younger, perhaps, six or seven a storm hit near the woods, moving towards their house with excruciating speed. Heavy, loud clouds rolled in the sky and lightning struck, sounding like a hammer slamming into Harry's head every time it went off.
Harry was hysterical, his mind had slipped back to that night in the streets instantly, when he thought that he was abandoned forever. Way, before Daddy got to him.

Dad had burst through his room in a second, he barged right through the door and gathered his tiny form in his arms, with Rabbity squashed beneath them. Dad asked him what was wrong, and Harry told him that he was scared of lightnings while he sniffed, sobbing as another lighting shook the sky. The drizzle had long turned into big droplets of rain, landing heavily on the window pane.

Dad relaxed instantly and picked him up, carrying the trashing little boy to the hallway, and set him before the glass door, separating the house from the havoc going on outside. Never before that night Harry had thrown a temper tantrum, as disgusted as he was with himself at that moment, he was more than terrified.
Terrified that his beloved Daddy had brought him, to leave hin in the storm instead of reassuring him that nothing was wrong, that the storm would eventually go away and everything would be okay. Dad did none of those, he just held Harry to his chest, and just watched the sky lightening up before another thunder struck.

"Take me away!" Harry had screeched at the top of his lungs, howling with the lighting. Dad did not react, he just picked up his stuffed rabbit and gently pushed him in Harry's hands.

"Take me away Daddy!" Harry repeated even louder now, had begun to hit his Daddy with his fisted hands, Rabbity rolling out of his hold, forgotten. Dad had picked up the animal again and handed it to him. Out of spite and fear, Harry had thrown the plush animal as far as he could.

Dad grabbed his hands and held them in his own, and he just watched the sky.

"Do you hear me talking to you now Harry?" he finally asked, after Harry's heart wrecking sobs reduced into silent tears. Harry nodded pathetically, cleaning his snot with Dad's clean black nightshirt.

"Answer me verbally child." Dad insisted, and stroked his head, his onyx black eyes never leaving the heaving sky.

Harry hiccuped and stifled a sob. "Yes Daddy." he had muttered.

"Did you hear Rabbity cry when you threw him?"

Harry mutely shook his head and then muttered meekly. "No Daddy."

Dad nodded in approval and his arms slackened around him. "Do you hear yourself answering me child?"

Harry, feeling more confident now, rubbed his eyes and nodded. "Yes Daddy."

Dad had actually smiled, and picked him up again, much to Harry's mortification, Dad opened the glass door and carried Harry /out/ in the porch and then sat on the wooden surface without a flinch.

Harry gasped as the chill rushed past him and another lighting shook the sky. He started crying again, not having heard the sound quite clearly from his room or inside the house as he was right now.

Dad slowly rocked him, but offered no words of comfort, just his chin resting on Harry's head as he gazed at the sky thoughtfully.

"Do you hear the sky babyboy?" Daddy had muttered, only loud enough for Harry's ears. Harry looked at him in confusion, tears welling up in his green emerald eyes.

"What?"

Dad smiled, and took his face, titling it up to the sky, in time for Harry to catch the blinding white light brightening up the sky before another lighting erupted. Harry gasped but didn't cry anymore. He couldn't cry anymore because he had tired himself out. Dad hugged him back and leaned against the glass door.

"When I speak to you, my voice is deep. When you speak to me or Rabbity your voice is shy and small." Dad smiled. "Rabbity shields you from the nightmares and bad thoughts with his inside voice." he continued, summoning the toy with his hand. Harry grasped it and listened to his dad intently.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. You know why?" Harry shook his head again, trying to work it out with his own childish logic.

"Because that's just the way the sky speaks too. Every voice is different. /We/ are all different Harry. We mustn't judge anything by appearances. Or in this case, their voice." Dad helped him up to his feet and geld his hand, both made their way to the yard, the father and son were soaked in a matter of seconds, but Daddy never moved him out of the rain.

"Every lighting has a meaning Harry. It's a way for nature to communicate with us. The sky lightens up and rain drops down. Sky is talking to us, he's just a little loud and excited is all. Can you hear him Harry?"

Harry could. He could hear the whipping sound clearer than he could hear his own heartbeat, he could see the sky brighten up to greet him. Them.
It was a nice dream to have. In that age, to believe that the lighting was actually what saved Harry. From then on, Harry wasn't terrified anymore. Fear had slowly turned into despise . He did sleep with his dad at nights like those and despised lighting as he always did, but he never actually cried again. Years later, he wondered what the storm was saying, he wondered whether or not Dad was proud of him, loved him as much as he claimed, or if he was a good son.

For years that question had revolved around his brain, a stupid childish story, given by his dad in a moment of panic, basically a fairytale, had Harry actually pondering on it.

Now as he ran with barefooted in the rain, his lungs burned, with eyes that were red and his feet covered in mud with every water poodle he stepped in. Harry knew the answer.

The sky was berating him. Chastising him, warning him all this time for his ignorance, for his own act of reckless stupidity. The sky wasn't greeting him with open arms, Harry was running right into it head first with all he had. As he ran deeper in the woods, as he fought off the branches and broken twigs assaulted his body and teared through his clothes, Harry wondered how stupid and naive he must have been in all these years.

Another lighting erupted, and Harry wished, sincerely for once, that one struck him. Maybe a good jolt was all he needed to wake up from this horrible nightmare. But then again, if that happened, Harry might just wake up in his dingy old cupboard with a broken rib.

For years he wondered if only things have been different, if only he was their second son, if only Dad hadn't found him that night, or if only Janet did not turned out to be who she was. Harry cried harder, feeling the cold droplets of rain washing down his cheek as if comforting him.

He didn't deserve to be comforted, the lighting countered. And Harry fell to his knees, heaving as his nails dug deep in the mud. Why him? That was a good question. Why him of all people? There were around billions of people living on this planet, half of which were magical. What were the odds of Harry being the poor abused heap of burden that no one wanted? What were the odds of his own parents abounding him at that young age? What was wrong with /him/?
Dad had told him time after time that there was nothing wrong with /him/. But how could he trust Dad anyway? After what had he done to Harry? A thunder struck and Harry wondered about what he had to say once again.

And yet, what were the odds of fate messing with /him/ of all people, what did Aiden or Neville, or anyone had that Harry didn't?
How naive was he? To not trust his instincts. His instincts were his everything, he was saved by his instincts, he had /saved/ people with his instincts. Why did he ignore them? Would it make things different? Knowing that he could've prevented all of this?

Harry bit out a chocked sob, his vision blurring as tears rimmed in his eyes once again. He was hurting, he had to count. But he couldn't, the lighting struck, brightening up the sky in white light. He was trembling, whether it was the cold, his heartbreak, or his undeniable sense of self-loathing, he didn't know. He only knew that he has to be punished, the rain might say something else, it might comfort him, or lead him back to his dad. But the lighting was brutal. It was honest and it knew that Harry had no chance anymore. His life had crumbled down.

With bated breath, he crawled in an empty tree bark and curled up in himself, knowing full well that if a thunder struck the tree he would die in an instant. He covered his eyes, and started counting.

One. He sobbed, swallowing down the hot coiling bile in his mouth with every loud heave. The sky was having a frenzy by then, and Harry had never heard the lighting so furious and so loud. So deadly. Ready to kill him with one strike.

Two. He had been running for hours with his bare feet. His legs were unrecognizable, small scrapes, long gashes, mud and remnants of blood and rain. And him, shivering in his thin shirt in a tree bark. If a lighting didn't kill him, he would probably die of hypothermia.

Three. They were all looking for him, Harry couldn't allow that, he wasn't sure how, but he knew somehow that they wouldn't find him if he didn't want them to.

Four. He bit down on his wrist to muffle a loud scream tearing its way out of his mouth. All his life, ever since he had been saved, Harry had always tried to hide from /them/. To forget and put those days of misery behind him, to redeem himself. How wrong he was. It wasn't Harry running from them anymore. /They/ were the ones following him.

Five. It all made sense now, a poetic irony. The history repeating itself, life coming to a full circle, and Harry once again alone and abandoned. He cried harder, he pressed on his earlobes so hard that he could actually hear the blood rushing in his ears.

Six. He was finally shivering, his body racked with the howling wind and his skin was numb from the cold. He choked again.

Seven. She lied, Dad lied, his godfathers lied. They all lied to him, for years. Harry was right. He always had been. His hatred for Janet was not one of jealousy. It was one of wariness. He hated her because he couldn't figure her out. Because he abhorred the fact that Dad loved an unknown person over his own adoptive son. Harry wanted to kill her because he had every right to.

Eight. His vision was blacking, either from the cold or utter exhaustion. He didn't care. Not really, he was fourteen, he was abused, abandoned, lied to, and he was dying. Who cared?

Nine. In an uncharacteristic moment of weakness he actually cried for Rabbity. His life time friend, his rabbit, he wanted to tear that note out of his chest and shred it to pieces, his list of happiness. Utter piece of trash more like it. He sneered while he shivered.

Ten. Dad was right. He mused, looking at the rampaging storm. He was right from the start of time. The sky was talking to him, it had been talking to him all while. It was trying to warn him. To keep him from harm. From /this/. Harry was an idiot for ignoring them, but that did not matter, soon his mistake would be erased with him. He just had to wait for few hours and try and ignore needling sensation working up his legs and traveling all through out his body. He was freezing.

Harry uncovered his ears and curled into himself. He wasn't scared anymore. He was numb.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

/"Daddy? Daddy wake up." he whispered, his face inches form his dad's sleeping face and his hair as messy as Harry's. The little child dragged Rabbity up on the bed with him and shook his dad again.

"Daddy, wake up." he experimentally tapped his daddy's cheek with small cold hands. Daddy stirred and turned his head away.

"Daddy." his eyes was peeled open, looking at the child sleepily.

"Harry?" Severus groggily lifted his head, noting that his son's face was inches from his own. He sat up and looked around. It looked just after midnight. He rubbed his face and groaned.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked patiently, checking Harry's forehead for signs of fever, he noticed him coughing earlier that night. Harry shook his head.

"No Daddy." Severus frowned. No? Then why did he wake him? The only reasons Harry might have done it was if he was sick or had a nightmare. Curiously, he shook his head and retrieved his wand.

"Do you need to go to the loo?" it couldn't have been that, Severus knew that, but better be safe than sorry he supposed. He was a little new to this whole being a father thing.

Harry shook his head again, his face blank.

"Rabbity wanted to play." he explained, picking up the said animal. Severus's eyes widened, taken back by the answer.

"What?" he asked completely dumbstruck.

Harry held up the rabbit and titled his head. "Rabbity wants to play." Severus shook his head as if he couldn't believe what he had heard. Rabbity wanted to play?!

What the hell?! Harry had never played pretend. Never, and he never had woken Severus in the middle of the night because his stuffed rabbit wanted to play. Severus closed his agape mouth and exhaled slowly.

"Don't you think he prefers to sleep for now?" he noticed the dark rings under Harry's eyes and knew that the boy must have been awake for some time.

Harry shook his head, the mop of messy hair tousling as he did. "He woke me up."

"He did?" Severus decided to humor his son, in every psychology book he had read thus far, patience was the first rule. That, and tolerance. This was the first time Harry had trusted enough to wake him up like this, even when he had a nightmare he would just sneak in quietly, thinking that Severus was asleep. If Harry was trusting him enough to wake him in the middle of the night for a play date, Severus was more than happy to oblige the wish. He just hoped that it wasn't a one time thing, Harry voluntary talking to him was a big step.

Harry nodded again. "He wants to play with the tent." Severus sighed in relief, he knew where this was coming from. He got out of his bed and walked to his wardrobe.

"Let's play then, shall we?" earlier that day, he had made a makeshift tent with pillows and blankets in the living room when Harry was having a panic attack, and the child adored it. What he didn't get, was that why in the middle of the night? Well, child logic was something that Severus could never fully grasp.

"And he wants me to be there too." Harry shuffled behind him nervously and Severus smiled. So Harry wanted to play with tent and was nervous that Severus would only take the rabbit. He crushed down his urge to hug the boy, he was so sweet and adorable. Severus cringed, what was his world coming to?

"Of course you're coming too, we can't have a tent party without you, can we?"

Harry smiled and tugged on his trousers again. "Can I bring my blanky too?" he asked self-consciously, looking down to the ground. Severus ruffled his hair.

"Of course, you may bring your books also, maybe we can read to Rabbity?" the situation was so surreal that Severus wasn't even angry for being woken up. His mind was still a little dazed, and fogged with sleep, and he had no idea if he should slip Harry a dreamless sleep or let him tire himself out, insomnia or fatigue would eventually take their toll on the small boy.

Nonetheless he set up the tent and crawled in with the small child, leaning against one of the chairs holding the tent up.

They sat in silence for a while, and Severus could almost /see/, excitement bubbling in Harry's almost blank subsided face.

"Don't you want to play?" he asked curiously as his son just sat there on the floor with the rabbit in his hands.

Harry gazed back at him with huge green eyes, slightly drooping sleepily. "I think I just want to sit." Severus nodded and they sat in silence. After what speed like hours, Harry crawled close to him and sat on his lap, stifling a yawn.

"Mommy and first Daddy are bad people. Yes Daddy?" Severus was taken back, looking down at Harry with a frown on his face. Maybe the child did have a nightmare after all.

"Yes they are. Why do you ask?"

Harry shrugged. "I saw them on a paper waving. So they're bad?"

The potion master felt his mouth go dry and his heart sank. He had completely forgotten about today's daily prophet. Oh merlin, how careless was he?!! He swore to himself that he would burn it later so Harry wouldn't see it, and now?! Severus shook his head, the damage was done.

"Yes Harry, they're really bad people."

Harry frowned in confusion. And leaned in next to Rabbity's smiling mouth, he nodded as if he was listening and then turned to Severus.

"Rabbity says: Did they get punished if they were bad?" Snape blanched, his hold tightening on Harry.

"It... It's complicated Harry. No, they were not punished." he said slowly, and technically they weren't. /Technically / disowning was not considered a crime. Severus sneered, those scums.

"But they are bad, don't grown ups have naughty corner?" Harry asked, snuggling into his blanket. Severus felt shocked and extremely sad all of a sudden.

"They do Harry."

"So mommy and first Daddy aren't bad?" his innocence bothered Severus, knowing that his child had lived with those monsters and still maintained his childish innocence.

"Of course they are bad. They will get punished Harry, I promise." Harry leaned down to consult with his rabbit again.

"Rabbity says; What they did to Harry was bad, but they're not going to naughty corner?" Severus cleared his throat.

"Yes Harry..."

"Rabbity."

"Alright, Rabbity. Yes, they were bad, and eventually they will get punished." Severus would make sure of that. He would've done so at the court, if James Potter hadn't bought the whole damn jury of wizagoment at the time. He looked over Harry again in silence.

How could his son be calm about this? He had seen the face of his abusers, not from behind the bars but on a vacation to France and was just sitting there, talking to him? Playing pretend? Maybe he was insecure, his mind reasoned. Maybe he's not only playing, but testing him. This was a crucial step. Severus had to be really careful now.

"Okay." Harry put his head on Severus's chest and closed his eyes. Drooping.

"Daddy?" he asked again after a few minutes. Severus opened his eyes and hummed.

"What's a debeather?" the boy pronounced each syllable slowly, as if he had broken it in parts from a text.

"A what?" he asked groggily.

"Debeather."

His eyes snapped open. Deatheater. Another headline word on the daily prophet. Damn. He cursed and His blood ran cold again.

"Where did you hear that?" his tone was harsher than he had intended to and a big frown was down on his face. Harry's eyes went wide and he flinched, hiding his face under his blanket. Severus cursed and tried to smooth out his expression. He's a child Severus, he reminded himself. Act with delicacy, and patience.

"Harry? I'm sorry child, I wasn't angry, I promise." the pile under the blanket shifted and Severus sighed, inwardly berating himself. But on the other hand, how Harry gotten that name? He did pronounce it wrong, but Severus knew that the child must've heard or read it from somewhere.

"Harry? Daddy's not mad, come out and I answer your question, okay?" how could he answer it really? How could he, a former deatheater himself explain the concept to a child? Harry was very bright for his age yes, but no child would grasp the meaning of a grey world, where good and bad didn't matter. He would he horrified if he knew what Severus was.

After some coaxing, Harry did come out of his nest of blankets and looked at him with an accusing gaze.

Severus apologized again and the child settled on his knee. "Harry, look at me child. What am I about to tell you is for grown ups, alright? So I won't tell you everything, but I promised I answer your questions. Can you be a grown up for me for a few minutes?" Harry clutched Rabbity to his chest and nodded.

Severus exhaled slowly. "There was a bad man, long time ago.."

"Like mommy and first Daddy?" the child interrupted him. Severus stifled a sigh in irritation and nodded.

"Yes, like /them/. As I was saying, this man was a very bad man who did very bad things..."

"Was he a debeather?" Severus bit his lip, and Harry apologized meekly.

"It's alright, but don't interrupt me alright? I answer your questions later."

"No, he was not a deatheater Harry. He was their.... Leader of sorts. He made them do bad things. He thought that judging people was a good thing, and...." how should he continue? He had a very limited choose of words here.

"And, some people believed him. Deatheaters are also bad people hurting others on the man's orders. Do you understand all of this?" Harry nodded slowly, looking thoughtful.

"Can't we put him in naughty corner?" he asked timidly and Severus snorted and then chuckled.

"No son, we can't. He is very powerful. But don't worry, he's gone now." at least for now, he thought grimly. The mark did fade, but it never disappeared completely.
"Then why were they on a paper?" Severus took a deep breath. This would take a while... /

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Two days ego

Harry was feeling good. In fact he was feeling better than good, he was ecstatic. The last two weeks have been a blast, Hermione had came back from her vacation in France and had crashed at Ron's place, much to Ron's absolute horror, since he was actually forced to do his homework for once under Mione's watchful gaze, Harry had no panic attacks thus far, and there was no sign of nightmares. He and Dad just had the greatest camp trip ever (without Janet), and Sirius and Remus were visiting them for the weekend (again, much to Dad's displeasure).

He was /happy/. Last year this day, he was wallowing in depression , he had constant panic attacks and was in a crappy mood and now? The change seemed very drastic and noticeable, also in a good way.

Oh, he and Janet still had their moments, like the time when she wanted to help him with his homework, or make him help her to do the cooking for once, a chore Harry absolutely hated since he was a child, and so on and so forth.

Harry dropped down on his bed and stretched out his arms, he smiled over to Rabbity, his plush rabbit he often slept with as a child.

"You see that buddy? I'm happy." he almost felt like a child talking to a stuffed animal like that, but Rabbity never felt like a toy to him, and he was never ashamed of being seen with it nearby, much less having a conversation with him.

His hair was still a little damp and the yellow fading bruises on his neck were almost gone , it surprised his dad that how long it took for the bruises to fade in the first place, since he was already using a balm, Janet suggested that it was because of his other injuries, and his magic induced healing process and how it might have /overwhelmed / Harry's body. Which, no matter how hard Harry tried to scoff at, was actually a good theory.

"I swam with Ron and Mione today. And you know what? I think Mione has a thing for Ron too." he smirked and rolled on his side to meet Rabbity's black buttoned eyes.

It was true, Hermione couldn't get her eyes off Ron while they chilled out in the lake. It was subtle of course, subtle enough that only Harry could see it, that or Ron was really blind. They were at the edge of puberty, Dad had warned him about hormones and such, and Harry shrugged him off as he was speaking gibberish. But to see it actually happen with his friends, right before his eyes was another matter completely. He shuddered, and his brow crinkled in a bemused expression.
He got up and heaved a sigh. He probably should get a shower ; he still smelled of Lake and moss and Dad would not appreciate Harry rubbing himself all over his room while still smelling like that.

He fetched his towel and hummed enthusiastically as he made his way to the bathroom. It was a familiar tune, he had no idea when he had heard it, and never looked in it, but he actually liked the song.

His trip to the bathroom was cut short when he saw Janet applying hair dye on her head with a brush.

"Hey, hi!" she jumped in surprise and smiled at him.

Harry walked into the bathroom, eyeing the back colored hair dye resting on the sink. "Hey."

"You back from the burrow?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. what else? he thought sarcastically.

"I thought your hair was naturally black?" he actually never pondered on the fact but it was probably an good incentive for Janet to change the subgect. The woman shrugged and tightened the towel around her collarbone. Harry imagined that he saw a flicker of anxiety pass her eyes, but shook it off. She was just dyeing her hair Harry. No big deal. Don't freak 0ut.

"So your hair is not black?"

"No, it's actually a boring shade of brown." Harry nodded and leaned against the door frame, when his eyes caught a strange large red circle on Janet's collarbone. Shaped like a strawberry. He narrowed his eyes, what was that on her skin?

"Did you burn yourself?" he asked dubiously, for some reason he felt something akin to fear tingle in his stomach, he staggered back in surprise, but quickly covered up his surprise.

Janet hummed and then looked down at her chest. "Oh, no. That's a birthmark." she quickly went back to her hair and Harry felt a little awkward. Just standing there next to the door waiting for her to finish..

He picked up his towel and worried his lips. "Take your time though, I'll go to Grimmauld place. I was just swimming at the lake and I think I need a shower." his senses were shouting at him, to leave, to run away, to get away from Janet for some reason. He stifled it down and walked back to his room. Having no idea why he was feeling so weird, Harry shrugged and thought of something to kill some time, then decided that it wasn't worth the wait and picked up his towel.

He could shower at Grimmauld place, much more quieter and private. And quicker. He mused, looking through the ajar bathroom door.

"Tell Dad I'll be back soon!" he shouted and entered the fireplace, not waiting to hear her exclamations as he disappeared in a whirl of green flames.

Even thought Sirius and Remus were absent for only a few weeks, the house looked a little creepy and abandoned, Kreacher, probably wasn't cleaning the place anymore. Shrugging, he brushed off the soot and climbed the staircase, his mind mowing over Janet. It shouldn't have been much of an issue, she was just dyeing her hair, normal behavior, wizard and muggles alike. But that birthmark, that's what bugged him, because he also had a small birthmark like that on his chest.. It was really small, barely covering the tip of his fingertip, but it was there. Could it be a coincidence?

"I'm imagining it." he muttered.

Harry inspected his small birthmark on the bathroom's steamed over mirror, musing quietly. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry knew that he was being ridiculous again, but why did he feel so scared? So wary?

His mind hazily snapped back to that strawberry like red patch. The heavy smell of perfume whirled in his memories. Again, there was no face. Harry clicked his tongue and finished up. He'd rather go back before Kreacher decided to harass him. All while, he couldn't take the thought of the strange presence off of his mind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He was asleep.

Even with his eyes clamped shut he could /feel/ the pitch darkness around him. He was in trembling fear, every bit of his skin was covered in sweat. He could hear voices, some whispering, some distant, and some closer than he thought possible. His small hands were curled around his bruised hip. It ached. Really badly. It was were Daddy had kicked him. And it hurt, he didn't let the tears fall, but could feel the burning pressure behind his eyelids, pushing, demanding to be let free.
Harry peeled his eyes open slowly, for a second he thought that he had gone blind. He often heard Mommy grumbling about the blind neighbors and how they couldn't see. He didn't want to be blind! Harry slowly rubbed his eyes with fisted hands, tears slowly trailed down his face. Thankfully, after a minute or two from crying, his eyes had readjusted enough that he could make out his own hands in the dark.

It should be late at night, Harry concluded, not from the dark (it was always dark) but from the itchy feeling in his stomach. He had to go. And he had to go now, that usually happened late at night because mommy didn't allow him to go when Aiden usually did so he wouldn't have any accidents.

The small child stilled, and tried to calm himself. He knew from experience, that he had to stay very calm and very still when he had to go to the loo. Maybe he should think of something else... Something good. Like uncle Sirius visiting him once a year with uncle Remy. Uncle Sirius traveled a lot, and he loved Harry really much. He brought him treats. Even mommy allowed him to have food and his own clothes when uncle Sirius visited. Harry smiled, and uncovered his ears. There was no need for counting. Not yet.

The voices got a little louder. It sounded like an argument, Harry curled in to himself, covering his ears again. He hated it when they argued. Not because he was actually scared of what they said. Mostly because of what they would /do/ to /him/ when those arguments ended.

The pressure on his bladder got more persistent, and he just knew, just knew that he couldn't last long enough for mommy and Daddy to finish. Tears of resignation and hot coiled shame pooled in the child's eyes as the voices got louder. Sniffing Harry pressed his hand on his stomach in an attempt to keep himself a little longer.
It turned out to be the wrong thing to do. The moment he did it, he couldn't hold it in anymore, scrunching his eyes close, he sobbed quietly as his pants were drenched wet. He hid his face in his hands, knowing that the punishment was about to come. The voices were gone, but instead of reassurance Harry felt scared. Scared enough to cover his ears and count forever.

Daddy and Mommy hated it when he counted. But then again, they always hated him.

One. His sobs were louder and there was shuffling outside his cupboard. Harry gasped with closed eyes. Someone had heard him. It could be mommy, she often stayed in kitchen at nights. Cooking.

Two. He smelled bad, he smelled like wee and he didn't like it at all, Harry knew that Mommy and Daddy wouldn't also like that. Once, they made him sit in freezing water so they could clean him of his freakishness.

Three. The locks outside his cupboard were unlocked and the door was yanked open.

Four. It was Mommy, and Harry sobbed louder. Mommy wasn't big enough to fit in his cupboard, but there was no need for that when she could just snatch Harry out of his small room and throw him on the kitchen tiles.

Five. Mommy did exactly what Harry thought she would, as she saw his wet pants, and his sniffling, she started screeching at him. Pulling at his clothes, hair, face. Everywhere she could reach with her nails.

Six. She demanded apologies. She hit him and then wanted Harry to be sorry for being a freak. But Harry couldn't talk. /She/ knew that Harry couldn't talk when he was counting, he always tried, but then panicked even more and had to start over. Harry cried hysterically.

Seven. Mommy grabbed him by his hair and pulled him up, forcing his eyes open. But Harry couldn't look at her face. Anywhere but her face.

Eight. His glazed over eyes settled on dark red circle on Mommy's collarbone, just above her shirt, he focused on it with all his might and tried to tune everything else out.

Nine. It was a birthmark. Uncle Sirius had explained it to him. That was why he called mommy her strawberry. The birthmark was shaped like one of those. Harry had had strawberries before. Way before Aiden was born.

Ten. He was thrown to the ground, another shadow joined the first one. Harry heard Daddy's voice join Mommy's, both angry at each other and at Harry. He couldn't do it anymore. He screamed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus Snape jolted awake in a blink, just as a loud scream came from Harry's room. Janet also got up and looked at him with wide eyes.

The potion master couldn't respond. Purely relying on his parent instincts he tore the covers away and raged out of the door, running to Harry's room in the pitch dark. He distantly heard Janet fumbling behind him, turning on the lights. But he didn't care.

Before he knew it, the light on Harry's room was on and he was sitting on the bed right next to him. Bewildered, and Worried sick. This was unuasal, this wasn't supposed to happen. He smoothed down his child's untamed hair, and hushed gently.

"Harry? Harry wake up, come on son. It's alright, wake up." he hadn't done this in nearly three years. Harry hadn't had a nightmare like this in three years. He fought down the growing panic and looked at his son more thoroughly.

His hair was coated in sweat and stuck to his face, his eyes were rolling madly behind his closed eyelids and his fists were clenched around the comforter as he writhed and screamed.

"Harry? Wake up. It's safe, it's just us. You and me. Wake up Harry." he had almost forgotten how to do it, after dealing with panic attacks for three years straight he had forgotten how to wake his son. He recoiled in shame and hugged Harry to his chest.

Three minutes passed and Harry showed no sign of waking up, that was when Severus could smell it. Curious and worried, the potion master lowered the child back on the bed, and grabbed the edge of the comforter. He looked at the wide wet patch with an unbelievable gasp and yanked it aside.

Oh merlin. Was his only thought. Oh merlin. He could just stare, he hushed Harry, all he could allow on his tongue were sweet nothings and that horrified expression on his face.

"Severus?" Janet asked by the door, her tone shaking. Severus pulled at his hair and looked back at his fiance clad only in a blue night robe. Harry would kill him if he let Janet see this. Never, never had Harry such a reaction to a nightmare. It must have been horrific enough for Harry to....

"Go Janet, I'll handle this." In his mind he vaguely wondered what might have triggered /this/ reaction. He quickly ran the possible triggers in his mind,stroking his child's hair.

"Severus..."

"Just go!" he snapped and grabbed Harry's wrist, shaking him gently. Just as he was about to call Janet back to call for help, Harry jolted awake with a loud scream.