Harry Potter woke up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the aroma seeping through the cracks of his bedroom door. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he glanced at the small wooden clock perched on his bedside table. It was just past seven in the morning. He sat up and stretched, feeling the deep ache in his muscles from the weeks of healing. His injuries had mostly mended now, thanks to Madam Pomfrey's diligent care and the array of potions that Severus had brewed for him.
Today marked the beginning of his first full day in Professor Snape's London flat, a world away from the threatening environment of Privet Drive. It was hard to believe that he was here, under the care of his most daunting professor, the man who loathed him with a passion, or so he had thought. Yet here he was, offering him sanctuary, a chance to escape the torment of his Muggle relatives.
He stood up, his feet sinking into the plush carpet that covered the cold wooden floor. His room was simple but comfortable, the walls painted a calming blue hue. It housed a cozy bed, a wooden desk by the window, a large bookshelf, and a wardrobe that now held his few belongings. On the bookshelf was a neat collection of books on various subjects – from Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts to Muggle literature, perhaps a subtle indication that his summer wouldn't just be about relaxation.
He sighed, turned to tidy his bed, then pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a soft grey t-shirt. Walking over to the window, he peered out. The morning sunlight filtered through the slightly dusty glass panes, casting a warm glow on his face. London sprawled beneath him, its buildings bathed in hues of gold and orange by the rising sun. The view was beautiful, eliciting a small, appreciative smile on his face.
Taking one last look at the cityscape, Harry turned away and made his way to the small, adjoining bathroom. After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he finally felt awake enough to face the day - and more importantly, Severus Snape.
As he left his room and walked into the small living area, he found Severus seated at the wooden dining table, a mug of coffee cradled in his hand, engrossed in what looked like a potion manuscript. He was dressed in casual clothes, a stark contrast to his usual black robes. The sight was oddly comforting, a reminder that outside of the Hogwarts castle, Snape was just a man, albeit an intimidating one.
"Good morning, Potter," Severus acknowledged him without looking up, his voice calm and composed. There was no trace of the venomous sneer he typically reserved for Harry. The simple greeting was strangely disconcerting, yet comforting in an unexpected way.
"Good morning, sir," Harry returned the greeting, padding over to the small kitchen area to make himself a cup of tea. He caught a quick glance from Severus, something akin to surprise flickering in his onyx eyes, as he busied himself with the kettle and the tea bags.
As Harry made his tea, the room lapsed into silence, an oddly comfortable one. It wasn't the cold, harsh silence that he was used to from the Potions Master, but one of mutual acceptance, of understanding. It was the silence of two people trying to figure out the dynamics of their new situation.
Finally, with two steaming mugs in hand, Harry joined Severus at the table. The older wizard had since closed his manuscript, his gaze now fixated on Harry. There was an unreadable expression on his face, a mix of curiosity and concern.
"I trust you slept well?" Severus asked, choosing his words carefully, his gaze unwavering.
Harry hesitated, a fleeting look of discomfort crossing his features. He wasn't ready to admit to the nightmare, to expose that vulnerable part of himself to his professor, even if the man was his temporary guardian.
"Fine, sir," Harry responded a little too quickly, avoiding Severus's gaze as he took a sip of his tea.
Severus, with years of observation, knew when someone was hiding something. He had seen the boy's haunted eyes, the way he had tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep the previous night, even though he'd thought Harry was completely unconscious. He didn't want to press the issue, not when Harry was obviously unwilling to share. But he also couldn't let it pass.
"I noticed your sleep... was somewhat restless," Severus mentioned casually, observing Harry's reaction from the corner of his eye. He hoped to create an opening for Harry to talk, without applying direct pressure. "Is the room comfortable enough?"
Blinking, Harry looked a bit taken aback by the question. He glanced around the room as if considering it for the first time. "Yes, sir," he replied slowly, "The room is fine."
A beat passed before Severus continued, "In case you have trouble sleeping, there are some books in your room that you might find interesting. They might serve as a distraction." It was the closest he could get to offering comfort without overstepping his bounds.
Harry looked at Severus, surprised. "Thank you, sir," he murmured, his eyes softening. He appreciated the effort Severus was making, even if he wasn't quite ready to open up.
The conversation moved on to lighter topics, with Severus subtly trying to gauge Harry's wellbeing without making the boy feel cornered.
By late morning, they found themselves engrossed in Transfiguration theory, with Harry working on an essay that Professor McGonagall had assigned him for the summer and Severus offering occasional guidance. Harry, surprisingly, found himself appreciating the older wizard's insight, his deep understanding of magic shedding new light on subjects Harry had only scratched the surface of.
The day passed peacefully, with the two wizards coexisting in a mutual silence that wasn't uncomfortable. Harry found solace in this new routine, in the normalcy of it, a stark contrast to the chaos of his typical Hogwarts days.
As the day turned into night, however, the peaceful tranquility was shattered. Harry was once again tormented by nightmares, images of Voldemort and his Uncle Vernon, tormenting him relentlessly.
His whimpers and restless movements alerted Severus, who had stayed up late working on a particularly complex potion. With a sigh, he rose from his seat and walked towards Harry's room, worry gnawing at him.
Opening the door slowly, he saw Harry tossing and turning in his bed, his face contorted in pain and fear. His whimpers were heartbreaking, filling the room with a chilling sense of despair. Without a second thought, Severus crossed the room and sat on the edge of Harry's bed.
"Potter," he called softly, but Harry was lost in his own world of terror. Cautiously, he reached out and gathered Harry into his arms, much like he did when Harry's broom had crashed during their chase.
"Harry, you're safe," he murmured, his voice a soothing whisper in the quiet room. "You're safe, it's just a nightmare."
For what felt like an eternity, he held the boy, whispering comforting words until, slowly, the tension seemed to drain from Harry's body. His breathing became less erratic, and his whimpers ceased. Eventually, his eyes fluttered open, looking up at Severus with a mix of confusion and relief.
"Professor Snape?" he mumbled, his voice hoarse.
"Try to get some sleep, Potter," Severus replied softly, helping Harry lay back down. He gave the boy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before retreating back to his potion work, leaving the door slightly ajar.
When Harry woke the following morning, the strange feeling was back - a cocktail of gratitude, discomfort, and sheer bewilderment. His mind was a whirlpool of thoughts. His Potions Master, the man he'd often seen as his enemy, had comforted him in the darkest of nights. It felt… strange.
He couldn't quite reconcile this gentle, understanding Snape with the bitter, sarcastic Professor he knew from school. Yet, he couldn't deny the odd comfort he felt from this man's presence. There was safety, a feeling he was rarely familiar with.
As he got out of bed, he knew this day was going to be different.
Walking into the small living area, he found Severus already seated at the wooden dining table, his focus on a piece of parchment in front of him. But the moment Harry entered the room, he looked up.
"Good morning, Potter," Severus said in his usual stoic tone, his gaze lingering on Harry.
"Good morning, sir," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
Severus scrutinized him for a moment, then pointedly placed his quill down and folded his hands on the table. "I think," he began, his voice even, "we need to talk about your nightmares."
Harry tensed, his hands gripping the edge of the countertop tighter. "I'm fine, sir," he said, a bit too hastily, avoiding Severus's gaze.
"Potter, I've been a teacher long enough to know when a student is not 'fine'," Severus retorted, his tone stern but not unkind. "You've been experiencing nightmares, ones that seem quite... distressing."
Swallowing hard, Harry's throat was suddenly dry. "I... I can handle it, sir," he stammered, his gaze still focused on the countertop.
Severus sighed. "That's not the point, Potter," he said, his voice softer. "You shouldn't have to handle it alone. I'm suggesting you consider speaking with a mind healer. They're professionals trained to help with such matters."
The words hung heavy in the air. Harry finally looked up, meeting Severus's gaze. There was a seriousness in his professor's eyes that he couldn't ignore. But the idea of laying his fears bare to a stranger was terrifying.
"I... I don't need a mind healer, sir," Harry replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
Watching him for a moment, Severus maintained an unreadable gaze. "Perhaps not," he finally conceded. "But consider it, Potter. Nightmares like yours... they can be more damaging than you realize."
Leaning back in his chair, Severus broke eye contact with Harry. Picking up his quill, his fingers deftly twirled it, a clear sign of his inner anxiety. The silence stretched between them, punctuated by unspoken words and lingering concerns.
Harry couldn't deny the logic in Severus's words, but the thought of opening up to a stranger, exposing his most vulnerable parts, was daunting. He had always been taught to keep his feelings, his fears, to himself. It was a survival mechanism, a way to avoid giving his tormentors more ammunition. The concept of seeking help was foreign and intimidating.
Severus, on the other hand, had witnessed the impacts of psychological trauma firsthand. This wasn't only during his time as a Death Eater but also through his encounters with various students, and even within himself. He understood how untreated trauma could fester, subtly eroding one's sanity over time. He had seen bright minds surrender to their inner demons, and he was determined to spare Harry from a similar fate.
The boy had a fire, a strength that Severus couldn't help but admire. He was stubborn and resilient, qualities that had likely saved his life on multiple occasions. However, Severus also knew that strength alone wasn't enough. Everyone had their breaking point, even the strongest among them.
Sighing, Severus finally spoke up, his voice softer than before. "Potter, I'm not forcing you to do anything. It's merely a suggestion. But remember, there is no weakness in seeking help. Sometimes, it's the bravest thing one can do."
Harry blinked, surprised by Severus's words. He was so used to facing adversity alone that the thought of letting someone else shoulder his burdens felt strange, almost wrong. However, the earnestness in Severus's words made him want to reconsider. Maybe he could... try? But he pushed that thought aside, he just couldn't
Nevertheless, as the day unfolded in much the same manner as the previous one, but with an underlying tension that was hard to ignore. Harry found himself mulling over Severus's words, torn between his fear of exposing his vulnerabilities and the prospect of finding relief from his nightmares. He noticed Severus keeping a closer eye on him, but the older wizard gave him space, understanding his need to process the suggestion.
Before bedtime, Severus presented Harry with a small vial, a light blue potion swirling inside. "This should help with the nightmares," he explained. "It's a mild sleeping draft, not as potent as the Dreamless Sleep potion but should help take the edge off your nightmares and give you some peace for the night. Don't worry, it's not habit-forming."
Accepting the vial, Harry's eyes studyed the swirling liquid inside. "Thank you, sir," he murmured, a small but genuine smile on his face.
Severus nodded, acknowledging his gratitude. "Sleep well, Potter."
As Harry lay in bed that night, the sleeping draft doing its work, Severus found himself sitting in the quiet living room, lost in thought. He wondered if he'd crossed a line by suggesting a mind healer to Harry, but he couldn't shake off the worry for the boy. He was only trying to do what he felt was best for Harry, but the question was - would Harry accept the help?
As he contemplated his next course of action, he was plagued by a sense of irony. He, Severus Snape, a man who had been shrouded in darkness for the most part of his life, was trying to guide Harry Potter, the 'Boy Who Lived', towards the light.
Life, it seemed, had a strange way of playing out. But for now, all he could do was wait and hope that Harry would eventually consider his suggestion about speaking with a mind healer. Until then, he would be there, watching over the boy, ready to offer his support in whatever way he could.
The following days passed much the same, Harry's nightmares still persisting though somewhat tamed by the potion Severus had given him. Harry found comfort in the steady rhythm of the day; waking, breakfast, tutoring, lunch, more studying, dinner, and then bed. Each day, he'd wake up disoriented from his nightmares, but would find a new sense of calm descend upon him as soon as he stepped into the living area and was greeted by the sight of Severus. His temporary guardian, though stern, was also reliable - a steady presence in his life that Harry couldn't deny was comforting.
Despite the heavy subject hanging over them, they managed to create a semblance of normalcy in their lives. As Severus helped Harry with his summer homework, he would watch the boy with a careful eye, ensuring that he was not only learning but also managing his stress levels.
A week later, a welcome distraction arrived in the form of a letter. It was a warm morning, the sun streaming in through the kitchen window as Severus and Harry sat down for breakfast. The sound of a tawny owl tapping on the window drew their attention.
Harry got up to let the bird in and untied the letter from its leg. The owl hooted in appreciation, took a quick sip of water from a bowl near the window, and then flew off.
Unfolding the parchment Harry read aloud. "It's from the Weasleys. They're inviting us to spend the day at the Burrow."
Raising an eyebrow, Severus allowed an unspoken question to hang in the air. He found himself in a peculiar situation, being invited to spend the day at the home of a family that embodied everything he was not - warm, loving, and unreservedly accepting.
Picking up on his hesitation, Harry intervened. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, sir. I'm sure they'd understand," he offered, attempting to ease the growing awkwardness.
After a moment of consideration, Severus weighed his options. The prospect of spending the day with the Weasleys wasn't particularly appealing. However, this could serve as a valuable opportunity for Harry to spend some time with his friends, something he was certain the boy dearly missed.
"Very well," he finally said, "We shall spend the day at the Burrow."
Harry blinked, surprised. "Really? Are you sure, sir?"
"I believe it would be beneficial for you, Potter. And I'm sure they want to ensure I haven't chopped you up for potion ingredients yet," Severus replied, a hint of dry humor in his voice.
With Severus's jest still lingering in his mind, Harry found himself wrestling with the night's restless quietude. His mind was a storm of thoughts, jumping from Severus's unexpected support to the impending visit to the Burrow.
The next day, Harry and Severus set out to the Burrow. Harry was strangely nervous; the prospect of being around the boisterous Weasleys after the quiet calm of his time with Severus was a bit overwhelming. But Severus kept a comforting hand on his shoulder, a steady presence amidst the turbulent emotions swirling inside him.
When they arrived at the Burrow, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. The familiar ramshackle house stood tall against the clear sky, surrounded by the verdant countryside. The sight of the place that felt so much like home sent a wave of nostalgia washing over him.
As soon as they stepped through the gate, a red-haired tornado named Ginny spotted them and hurtled towards them, her bright smile a welcome sight. She came to a halt in front of them, her hands on her hips. "Took you long enough, Potter! We've been waiting for ages," she scolded, though the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her playful mood.
"Hello to you too, Ginny," Harry replied with a grin. He then turned to introduce Severus, but found that the Potions Master had already been ambushed by Mrs. Weasley.
Molly Weasley, matriarch of the Weasley clan, had a look of pure astonishment on her face as she regarded the man standing before her. "Severus Snape, in my house... I never thought I'd see the day," she admitted, her voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and...was that delight?
Merely raising an eyebrow at her comment, Severus gave away his feelings through the slight upturn of his lips. He wasn't entirely displeased by the warm reception, a far cry from the hostile environment he had anticipated.
"Come in, come in," Molly urged, herding them into the house. "Arthur's in the sitting room. He'll be pleased to see you, Severus."
Severus' eyebrow rose further at that, a question in his eyes, but he chose not to voice it. He followed Molly into the bustling, welcoming home, already smelling the delicious aroma of whatever she had been cooking in the kitchen.
Arthur Weasley, a man of friendly demeanor and sparkling eyes full of curiosity, was indeed in the sitting room. As he spotted Severus, his eyes widened slightly as if he expected Severus to just send Harry along and not take their invitation, but then he extended a hand, a welcoming smile on his face.
"Severus, it's good to see you. Thank you for coming." Arthur's words were sincere, his handshake firm.
Severus nodded curtly, but the corner of his mouth quirked up in what could almost be considered a smile. "Arthur."
Just then, a commotion from outside drew their attention. Through the window, they could see Ron pulling Harry away, a Quidditch game forming amongst the Weasley children and their friends. Arthur motioned to a couple of chairs by the window, an inviting gesture.
"Why don't we sit here and watch the game, Severus? I have some tea ready," he suggested, already pouring a cup for each of them.
As they sat down, Arthur took a moment to watch his children outside, a fond smile on his face. Then, he turned his gaze back to Severus, his expression turning serious.
"Harry... he's doing okay?" he asked carefully, an undercurrent of worry in his voice.
Severus sighed, setting down his tea. "He's resilient, as always," he began, choosing his words carefully. "But he's having nightmares. They're frequent, and they seem to be taking a toll on him."
Arthur's brows furrowed, the worry now evident on his face. "Has he spoken about them?"
"He tries to keep them to himself, but they are clearly distressing," Severus explained. "I've given him a mild potion to help, but it's merely a temporary solution."
Arthur nodded, understanding the implications. "And how are the two of you getting along?"
Surprisingly, Severus' lips turned upwards into a small smile. "We're managing, I suppose."
Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at that, the sound warm and comforting. "Well, that's good to hear."
Severus took a sip of his tea, his gaze distant as he watched Harry and Ron chasing the Quaffle outside. "I believe Potter could benefit from seeing a mind healer, Arthur."
Arthur turned to look at him, surprise evident on his face. "A mind healer?"
"Yes," Severus affirmed. "His nightmares... they're a manifestation of his trauma. I believe he could use professional help to deal with them."
Arthur considered Severus' words, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his teacup. "That's a serious suggestion, Severus. Harry...he's been through so much, and he's not the type to open up easily, as you well know."
Severus nodded. "I am aware. And I have tried to get him to see one voluntarily, but he's resistant. Potter is stubborn, Arthur, as stubborn as his mother."
"And as brave," Arthur added, looking out the window at the two boys, now arguing over who had caught the Snitch. He saw Harry laugh, and felt a pang of worry for the boy who carried so much on his young shoulders. "You've become rather fond of him, haven't you?"
A flash of surprise crossed Severus's features, his gaze snapping back to Arthur, before he quickly composed them back into his customary stern look. Yet, he didn't deny it. "It seems so," he admitted, a trace of humor surfacing in his voice. "An unfortunate side effect of spending too much time with your troublesome progeny."
Arthur chuckled again, but his mirth faded as he asked his next question. "I heard you're not returning to Hogwarts next year, Severus. That you left rather...dramatically after bringing Harry to the hospital wing."
Severus took a long sip of his tea, his gaze once more distant. "Yes, that's correct."
"Are you planning on coming back? You're a good teacher, Severus, and the students respect you."
Severus snorted at that. "Respect born out of fear, perhaps."
Arthur shook his head. "No, I don't believe that. I think you've made more of an impact than you realize."
Pausing, Severus glanced down at his teacup as he considered his answer. "Albus has been contacting me daily via the Floo, practically begging for my return," he admitted, the bitterness in his voice evident. "He seems to believe that Hogwarts cannot function without me."
Arthur chuckled softly. "Albus does have a way of being...overly persuasive when he wants to be." He paused, then added, "But Hogwarts could use you, Severus. The students could use you."
Severus scoffed lightly at that, but he didn't dismiss Arthur's words. He found himself wrestling with a torrent of emotions. A part of him was tired of the dangers that seemed to be an inherent part of teaching at Hogwarts, yet another part of him wished to stay, for Harry's sake.
"I just don't know, Arthur," he admitted, sounding more vulnerable than he cared to show. "A part of me is... finished with the unexpected threats that the teaching profession brings, but another part of me wishes to be there, to watch over Harry."
Pausing, Severus let the corners of his mouth lift in a muted smirk as he added to his tale. "When I decided to tender my resignation, at least I showed some degree of self-control. Unlike Minerva, who couldn't refrain from giving Albus a sound punch in the face."
Arthur Weasley's eyebrows immediately rocketed towards his hairline. "Minerva punched Albus?" he echoed, disbelief threading through his words.
Severus affirmed the statement with a nod. "Directly on the nose, to be exact," he elaborated, a shadow of a smile playing across his usually stern features. He found a grim sense of humor in the unexpected course of events.
Arthur, trying to suppress his amusement, grinned widely at Severus's revelations. "Well, I can't say he didn't deserve it," he said, his eyes sparkling with shared amusement. His tone then shifted to something more serious, as he laid a hand on Severus's shoulder. "Severus, if it's Harry's situation that's preoccupying you, then perhaps... just perhaps, your place is at Hogwarts, protecting him."
It was an obvious point, one that Severus had been wrestling with for weeks now. His gaze was drawn back to the window, to the sight of Harry laughing as he and Ron argued over the Quidditch game. He did want to be there for Harry, he realized, more than he wanted to admit.
"I'll consider it, Arthur," he finally said, his voice softer than before. "But for now... let's just enjoy the game, shall we?"
With that, they turned their attention back to the impromptu Quidditch match, the heavy conversation temporarily put on hold. But the seed had been planted in Severus' mind, and he knew he would need to make a decision sooner rather than later.
As the game finally wound down and the victors were decided, Arthur called out to everyone, "Lunch is ready, time to come in!" The cheerful announcement was followed by the thundering of feet and excited chatter as everyone filed inside, their hunger intensified by the vigorous Quidditch match.
Inside, Molly had set a large table with enough food to feed an army. Amidst the clatter and noise, Harry discreetly sought out Severus, choosing to sit next to him much to the surprise of the others.
Glancing at Harry as the boy sat down, Severus had an unreadable expression on his face. Then, surprisingly, he reached out and added a few more servings to Harry's plate, his movements almost paternal. Harry scowled at him but didn't say anything, merely accepting the food with a grudging nod.
The interaction did not go unnoticed by Molly and Arthur, and they shared a quiet look across the table. It was clear to them that Severus cared for Harry, more than he was probably willing to admit. And, even though his methods were stern and unyielding, they seemed to be exactly what Harry needed at the moment.
The rest of the meal proceeded with a comfortable hum of conversation and laughter. Everyone was engrossed in their own discussions, exchanging tales of the match and bickering good-naturedly about who truly deserved the title of best player.
Throughout it all, Severus remained mostly silent, his dark eyes flickering occasionally towards Harry. There was a softness there, hidden beneath layers of cynicism and severity, but it was there, nonetheless. And every now and then, when Harry turned to talk to him, that softness would shine through just a little more brightly.
After lunch, Harry and Severus said their goodbyes to the Weasleys and started to head back home. The laughter and cheer of the Weasley household was still echoing in their ears as they left, replaced by the quiet calm of the Snape residence. As they walked in, Severus closed the door behind them and the sound of the latch clicking into place seemed strangely final.
"Did you enjoy your day, Potter?" Severus asked, removing his cloak and hanging it by the door. His voice was still a bit stiff, as though the levity of the afternoon hadn't entirely worn off.
Harry looked up at him, green eyes wide and serious. "Yeah," he answered after a moment, a smile curving the edges of his mouth. "I had a lot of fun. Thanks for letting me go... and for coming with me."
There was a genuine gratitude in his voice that Severus was unaccustomed to hearing. He looked at the boy, taking in the happy flush of his cheeks and the brightness in his eyes. "We shall endeavor to visit more often then."
Harry's smile widened at that, the sparkle in his eyes clearly revealing his enthusiasm. "That sounds great," he replied before turning to down the hall. "I'm going to change into cleaner clothes," he announced, still visibly buzzing with the excitement of the day.
As Harry bounded down the hall, Severus watched him, his mind filled with a mix of relief and apprehension. It was good to see Harry happy, his spirits noticeably higher than usual. It almost seemed as if the day's events had temporarily lifted the weight that always seemed to hang over the young wizard.
That night, Severus silently moved around the house, preparing for bed, but his mind was far from the mundane tasks. He could still see the smile on Harry's face, hear the laughter in his voice, and he couldn't help but hope that this happiness would seep into the boy's dreams, replacing the nightmares that had been haunting him.
His thoughts were disrupted by a sudden scream that cut through the silence of the house like a knife. Recognizing it instantly, Severus was on his feet before his mind fully registered the sound. His heart pounded as he raced towards Harry's room, dread settling like a stone in his stomach.
He found Harry in the throes of another nightmare, his body thrashing wildly as he cried out in terror. The sight was heart-wrenching, a stark contrast to the joyous boy he had seen earlier in the day.
Rushing to the bed, Severus reached out and tried to wake Harry, calling his name in a stern, steady voice.
"Harry, wake up," he ordered, attempting to keep his voice calm despite the panic that was threatening to bubble over. "It's just a nightmare. You're safe."
His calls did little to rouse Harry, whose thrashing continued unabated, the young wizard lost in the throes of his nightmare. The terror in Harry's cries only seemed to grow more pronounced, his unconscious mind unable to distinguish between dream and reality.
For a moment, Severus felt a pang of helplessness, but he quickly pushed it aside. "Harry!" he tried again, louder this time, but the boy was too deeply immersed in his dreamscape. Fear for Harry overshadowed Severus's usual reserve. He couldn't let the boy continue in this state.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Severus reached out to gather the still struggling boy into his arms. It was a struggle to lift the thrashing boy, but Severus managed, his heart aching at the tortured sounds escaping Harry's throat.
Once he had Harry safely in his arms, Severus maneuvered so he could sit on the edge of the bed. His long robes pooled around them as he adjusted Harry onto his lap, holding him firmly yet gently against his chest.
"Harry, you're safe," he repeated, his voice quieter now, a soothing contrast to the fearful cries still slipping from the boy's lips. He kept his tone even, attempting to break through the terror of Harry's dream with the promise of reality. He could feel Harry's heartbeat thundering against his own, a rapid-fire rhythm that spoke volumes of the boy's fear.
Raising one hand, Severus gently stroked the unruly black hair, his movements rhythmic and steady. It was a foreign gesture for him, one that would've been unthinkable just a few years ago. But right now, with Harry trembling in his arms, he would try anything to bring the boy comfort.
"Listen to my voice, Harry," Severus urged, keeping his tone low and soothing. "It's just a nightmare. Nothing here can harm you."
Slowly, Severus could feel Harry's frantic struggles start to lessen, the boy's cries dwindling down to gasps and whimpers. His hand never ceased its movement, continuously stroking Harry's hair as he held the boy close to his chest.
Whether it was Severus's voice, his touch, or simply the physical comfort of being held that broke through the terror of Harry's dream, Severus didn't know. All he knew was that, eventually, Harry's eyes fluttered open, looking up at him with a confusion that slowly morphed into understanding as his mind pulled itself free from the nightmare.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of their combined breaths and the distant ticking of a clock. Severus didn't let go, didn't move, just held Harry close, the boy's head resting against his chest as they both took the time to gather their wits.
"You're safe, Harry," Severus repeated once again, softer this time, a whispered reassurance against the dark echoes of the boy's nightmare. The weight of the moment hung between them, the room filled with a quiet understanding that belied the intensity of what had just transpired. Harry had fought a battle in his dreams, and Severus had stood as his unlikely guardian, his unexpected comfort in the dark.
The reassurance didn't seem to completely comfort Harry, but he nodded, his wide eyes slowly starting to lose their terrified glaze. They sat in silence for a moment, Harry's ragged breaths slowly evening out.
"The nightmares... they're not going away, are they?" Harry asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Severus sighed, wishing he had a different answer. "I'm afraid not, Potter," he admitted. "Talking about them can help you work through what is causing them though."
Harry nodded slowly, though it was clear he didn't find the answer particularly comforting. They sat in silence for a while longer, the quiet interrupted only by Harry's sporadic gasps as he attempted to regain control over his breaths.
Finally, Severus rose, pulling the covers back over Harry. "Try to go back to sleep," he suggested, though he knew it was easier said than done. "We can talk more about that in the morning. I'll be in the next room if you need me."
When Harry woke the next morning, the residual fright from the previous night still lingered, a bitter aftertaste to the horrifying nightmare that had dominated his dreams. As he pulled himself out from under the warmth of his covers, the memories hit him like a wave, and he sucked in a deep breath, forcing his body to relax. He found solace in the thought that he wasn't alone - that Snape had been there to help him.
He shook his head, trying to dislodge the images that continued to haunt him even in the cold light of day. He slid out of bed, wrapping his robe around his lean frame, the fabric providing a comforting weight. He moved to the window, drawing the curtains aside and taking a moment to watch the early morning light filtering through the leaves outside.
The suggestion of speaking to a mind healer echoed in his head, a constant, uneasy drumbeat that refused to quieten. He felt a strange swirl of apprehension and curiosity at the thought, even though he was hesitant to voice it out loud. Would it help? The question hung in the air, a specter of uncertainty.
Speaking about his past, his fears, his traumas, seemed almost impossible. It was a concept that felt foreign to him, too overwhelming to contemplate. He had spent most of his life carefully skirting around the dark corners of his past, burying the hurt and the fear deep within himself. Now, the prospect of digging them up and laying them bare for someone else to see... it felt utterly terrifying.
But at the same time, he was tired. Tired of the nightmares, the terror, the sleepless nights. He was tired of always being afraid, of always feeling like he was on the brink of falling apart. And most of all, he was tired of fighting this battle alone. The thought of someone – anyone – being able to help him, to take away even a small part of the fear and the pain, was strangely comforting.
Harry turned away from the window, his thoughts whirling. He was still nervous, still scared, but he also knew that something needed to change. He couldn't keep living like this, constantly haunted by the specters of his past.
As he came down the hall for breakfast, the scent of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air, a familiar comfort amidst the turmoil of his thoughts. He found Severus already seated at the table, a steaming mug in front of him and the morning paper spread out.
Severus glanced up at his approach, his gaze taking in the boy's disheveled appearance and the haunted look in his eyes. "Sleep well, Potter?" he asked, his tone casual, but Harry could see the concern hidden deep in his eyes.
"Better than before," Harry answered, trying for a smile. He knew it didn't quite reach his eyes, but he appreciated the effort nonetheless.
The silence stretched between them, charged with the weight of unspoken words. Harry knew that it was time to address the elephant in the room. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
"About that mind healer..." he started, his voice shaking a bit. He forced himself to continue, to voice out the words that had been haunting him all night. "I think... I think I'd like to talk to one."
Severus's gaze sharpened, his eyes assessing. There was a moment of silence before he gave a slow nod. "I think that's a wise decision, Potter," he said, his voice gentle.
Letingt out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, Harry let some relief washing over him. Yes, he was nervous, terrified even.
Silent for a moment, Severus let his fingers idly trace the rim of his teacup. "As it happens," he began, a note of seriousness entering his voice, "I might have someone in mind."
He looked at Harry, his gaze steady. "After the first war, I was... in a difficult place, to put it mildly. I sought help from a mind healer. A man named Adrian Cresswell."
Harry blinked in surprise, trying to process this information. Severus, seeking help? The man who had always seemed so self-contained, so indomitable, admitting to needing assistance?
But then, the look in Severus's eyes was one of understanding, not judgement. He had been where Harry was now, had felt the terror, the uncertainty. The knowledge that Severus had not only sought help, but also found it, was an unexpected relief.
"Adrian is good, very good," Severus continued, his voice firm. "He specializes in helping those who've been through traumatic experiences, and I believe he can help you."
Taking a moment to digest this, Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he contemplated Severus's words. The idea of a mind healer was still daunting, but somehow less so with the knowledge that Severus had walked this path before him.
With a deep breath, Harry nodded. "Alright," he said, "I'll see him."
A flicker of approval passed over Severus's face, before his features smoothed back into their usual stoic expression. "I'll contact him today. Maybe he could come for lunch so you could meet him, informally?"
Harry hesitated at that, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. He wasn't sure he was ready to meet this healer, this stranger, and reveal his most vulnerable parts. But Severus was watching him, offering this as a lifeline, and Harry knew he needed to take it.
"Okay," he agreed, a soft murmur that carried the weight of his hopes and fears. "Lunch would be good."
Severus nodded, clearly pleased by his decision, "I'll arrange it then."
The rest of the morning passed in a blur for Harry, the prospect of the upcoming meeting hanging over him like a specter. Severus, it seemed, was determined to keep the atmosphere light, discussing the latest Quidditch league standings and his summer research. It was strangely soothing, this touch of normality amidst the turmoil of his thoughts.
When lunchtime rolled around, the tension in Harry's stomach twisted tighter. He could hear Severus in the living room, using the Floo Network to call Adrian Cresswell. The low murmur of his voice, too quiet to make out the words, did little to ease Harry's nerves.
To distract himself, Harry focused on finishing his summer assignments, the typically tedious essays providing a welcome diversion. He was so engrossed in his work that he almost didn't notice when Severus returned.
"Adrian will be here within the hour," Severus announced, pulling Harry from his thoughts.
Harry nodded, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt Severus' gaze on him, assessing, before the older man finally spoke again. "You don't need to tell him anything you're not ready to, Harry," he reassured, a note of gentleness in his voice that was rare for the usually stern Potions master. "This is about getting help, not creating more stress for you."
The simple acknowledgement of his fears was soothing, helping to calm the knots in Harry's stomach. He nodded again, managing a small, grateful smile for Severus before returning to his essay. The next hour would pass regardless, he knew, and when it did, he would face whatever came with as much courage as he could muster.
Severus watched Harry for a moment longer before nodding to himself and standing. "We should prepare some lunch before he arrives," he stated, turning towards the kitchen.
Pausing his essay, Harry glanced up at Severus, in surprise. "Do you need help?"
The corner of Severus's mouth twitched upward in a small, faintly amused smile. "I think we could both use a distraction, Potter," he admitted. "Would you mind helping set the table?"
"Sure," Harry agreed, relieved at the prospect of having something else to focus on. His anxiety seemed to lessen a bit as he stood, following Severus into the kitchen.
Severus busied himself preparing a simple, but filling lunch of sandwiches and soup, while Harry was tasked with setting the table. Harry found the task more calming than he'd expected, focusing on the placement of the plates and cutlery, the folds of the napkins, and the center arrangement of flowers that Severus had conjured.
Occasionally, Severus would ask Harry to fetch something - a ladle, a can of tuna, a loaf of bread - and they fell into an easy rhythm, the silence between them comfortable rather than oppressive. In that moment, they were no longer teacher and student, or former enemies; they were just two people, working together to create a meal.
By the time the meal was prepared, Harry was feeling significantly calmer. His hands were steady as he laid out the sandwiches on a large plate, and his breath was even, no longer hitching in anxiety.
When the fire in the living room flared green, signaling Adrian's arrival, Harry felt a surge of nerves. But he also felt steadier, more grounded. He took a deep breath, reminding himself of Severus's words. This was about getting help, not adding stress.
As Severus went to greet their guest, Harry stayed in the kitchen, gathering his thoughts. He didn't know what this meeting would bring, but he knew he was ready to face it.
With one last look at the table, now laden with the fruits of their labors, Harry moved to join Severus and meet the man who might finally be able to help him. He was ready. He was ready to fight, to heal, and most importantly, to start reclaiming his life from the nightmares that haunted him.
Entering the living room, Harry's heart pounded in his chest. His eyes darted to the new figure standing beside Severus. A man perhaps in his early fifties with greying hair, warm eyes, and a comforting smile. His presence seemed to emanate calmness and assurance, offering a strange sense of peace to the room. He was dressed casually, in muggle attire, which Harry found a bit unexpected, but not unwelcome.
"Harry," Severus began, gesturing to the man next to him. "This is Adrian Cresswell."
Adrian stepped forward, extending a hand. "Hello, Harry. I've heard much about you," he said, his voice carrying a friendly tone. His grip was firm but gentle, a stark contrast to the harsh reality they were here to discuss.
"Nice to meet you, Adrian," Harry replied, his voice just a little shaky, but more confident than he'd expected. Adrian's calm presence seemed to be soothing his nerves.
They moved to the dining area, Severus leading the way. The table was spread with sandwiches and soup, the warm scent filling the room. As they seated themselves, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of normality seep into the situation. Despite his nerves, he was able to engage in polite conversation, talking about Quidditch and his experiences at Hogwarts.
Adrian, it turned out, was an ardent Quidditch fan himself, particularly fond of the Puddlemere United team. As they chatted about recent matches and favorite players, the tension slowly ebbed away from Harry. There was no immediate pressure to delve into his deepest fears and traumas, just an opportunity to feel at ease with the person who would be helping him navigate them. This unexpected familiarity brought a comforting warmth to the situation.
Lunch passed smoothly, and Harry found himself opening up more than he had thought possible. Adrian's demeanor was kind and understanding, never pressing Harry on matters he wasn't ready to discuss. The conversation flowed naturally, as if they were old friends rather than strangers meeting under daunting circumstances.
After they finished eating, Severus began to clear the dishes. Harry, eager to contribute, stood to help, but Severus waved him off. "Sit, Harry," he said. "I can handle it."
As Severus disappeared into the kitchen, Adrian turned his attention back to Harry. "Now, Harry," he started, "since this is our first meeting, I think it's best if I explain what our sessions will look like."
Harry nodded, taking a deep breath as he braced himself for the unknown.
"Our sessions will be a safe space for you," Adrian began, his voice steady and soothing. "You can share anything that's on your mind or anything you're struggling with. There's no judgement or expectation. Our goal is simply to help you process your experiences and feelings, and navigate through them."
His eyes met Harry's, a soft understanding in their depths. "I want to make this clear: you're in control. If there are topics you don't want to discuss, we won't. If at any point you're uncomfortable, we stop. You set the pace."
He paused for a moment, allowing Harry to process his words before he continued, "And Harry, please remember, if you ever feel you need my help, or if there's anything troubling you between our sessions, you're always welcome to call me. I'm here for you, Harry, whenever you need."
The reassurance was a comfort, a lifeline extended to Harry in this sea of uncertainty.
Harry found himself relaxing, his earlier apprehension melting away with Adrian's words. "I... I think I can do that," he said, meeting Adrian's gaze.
A warm smile spread across Adrian's face. "That's all I can ask for, Harry. Remember, the goal here is to help you heal, not to force you into anything you're not ready for. We'll work through this together, at your pace."
Just then, Severus appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He held a half-smile on his face, his arms crossed over his chest, and he nodded approvingly. "There is a secret to summoning Adrian at any hour," he interjected, with an unusually light tone in his voice. "A platter of cherry tarts, they are his downfall."
Adrian shot Severus a look of mock indignation. "Severus, you promised never to disclose my weakness!" He chuckled, obviously not really bothered by the revelation. They shared a moment of banter, going back and forth about their shared history and teasing each other with comfortable ease.
After a few minutes, Adrian turned his attention back to Harry. His demeanor shifted back to the professional healer, but his smile remained warm and reassuring. He reached out, patting Harry's hand gently before pushing himself up from the table.
"I'll be seeing you tomorrow then, Harry, for our first session, if you feel ready," he said. "And Severus, make sure he gets a good night's rest. A dreamless sleep potion would be beneficial."
Severus nodded in response, his gaze softening as he looked at Harry. "Understood."
As Adrian stepped towards the Floo, he gave Harry a last comforting smile. "Remember, Harry, I am here to help. We will get through this together."
He watched as the healer disappeared into the Floo Network, leaving a quiet room behind. The prospect of the next day hung in the air, but it was a different kind of weight now - not quite as daunting, not quite as frightening.
Harry turned to look at Severus, who was still watching the fireplace where Adrian had just disappeared. There was a slight tension in the air, but it wasn't an uncomfortable one. It was more like the anticipation of a new journey, and Harry could tell that Severus felt it too.
"Harry," Severus began. His voice was serious, yet it lacked its usual sternness. "I... I am proud of you."
Blinking in surprise, a confused look crossed Harry's face. "Proud?" he echoed, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. Snape, being proud of him?
"Yes, proud," Severus confirmed, seemingly gathering his thoughts before continuing. "You've been through a lot, Harry. More than anyone your age should have to deal with. Yet, despite it all, you continue to fight, to strive for a better life. And that... that requires strength and maturity beyond your years."
Harry was speechless. Never had he expected to hear such words from Snape.
Severus looked at him for a moment longer, before doing something very un-Snape like. He pulled Harry into a hug, an action that was as surprising as his words. Yet it wasn't the rough, awkward hug he had expected. Instead, it was firm, warm, and surprisingly comforting. A fatherly embrace that filled Harry with a strange sense of comfort and security.
"Potter, you are becoming a fine young man," Severus admitted, his voice barely a whisper as he pulled back from the hug. "Don't ever forget that. Not when you're facing your worst nightmares, not when you're struggling with your past. You have the power to overcome it all. I... I have faith in you."
The sincerity in Severus's words left Harry speechless. He felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of acceptance and acknowledgement he hadn't known he was missing. This wasn't about praise or being good enough. This was about recognition, about being seen and appreciated for who he was and what he was trying to achieve.
The room was silent for a moment, the air charged with emotion.
"Thank you, Professor," Harry finally said, his voice choked with emotion. "Thank you for... for everything."
Severus merely nodded, his gaze soft. "Just remember, Harry," he said, "you're not alone in this. We are with you."
Pausing, Severus looked at Harry with a new sense of gravity. The room was silent, the crackling fire the only sound. He cleared his throat, not breaking eye contact. "And Harry..." he began, his voice low but clear, "you may...if you wish, call me Severus. I am, after all, your guardian."
There was an awkward silence, the words hanging in the air. It was an unusual gesture, a small nod to the evolving nature of their relationship. Yet, it was somehow comforting, another indication of the growing support system Harry now had.
Harry nodded slowly, surprise evident in his wide, green eyes. "Alright... Severus," he managed, stumbling a little over the unfamiliar name. It felt strange, but not wrong.
Severus's lips twitched up into a small smile, one that Harry returned, feeling an unfamiliar sense of warmth. Severus then ruffled his hair, a gesture he'd seen many times between fathers and sons, and it sent a pang through his heart that was both sweet and sorrowful.
He was led to the couch, where a large tome lay. Reading together and relaxing, the fire crackling merrily in the hearth, filled the room with an ambiance of calm and safety. As they read, Harry felt the stress and worry of the day melting away, replaced by the comforting presence of Severus beside him.
For the first time in a long time, Harry felt a sense of belonging. He wasn't Harry Potter, the boy who lived, in this moment. He was just Harry, a boy sitting comfortably with his guardian, learning not just from the book, but also about the warmth of shared silence, and the sense of home that he hadn't truly felt before.
It wasn't Hogwarts, it wasn't the Burrow, it wasn't Privet Drive. It was this feeling of being seen, understood, and supported. A realization dawned on him, as he leaned into Severus's side, engrossed in the quiet comfort of their shared moment: he was no longer alone.
The solitude that had haunted him was dissipating, replaced by a warmth that spread from his heart, filling him with a sense of hope and tranquility he had seldom known. Yes, he thought, he was no longer alone, and as he glanced at Severus who was watching him with a softness in his eyes, Harry felt that he was finally home.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I think this is a good spot to end this one. Hope you guys enjoy!
Chapter 2
The End.