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2024-12-08
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Lay down next to me (Don't listen when I scream)

Summary:

Harry sighs, pulling out his wallet. “How much do you want for it?”

Snape’s eyes are bulging. “My clothes are not for sale, Potter. Now hand it over. I won’t ask a second time.”

Harry hunches his shoulders. “But-”

Snape growls, apparently at the end of his patience. His wand jumps into his hand.

Harry is forced to let go of the fabric and the cloak gets yanked off him, flying directly into Snape’s hand.

Harry bites his lips, hard, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. There are words at the tip of his tongue and it takes all of his willpower to keep them from slipping out.

Don’t do this, please. It’s the only thing keeping me sane right now. Please, let me have this. Just this one thing. I won’t ask more of you than that, I promise, please-

***

During his fifth year, Harry disappears from the face of the earth for three days. No one knows what happened to him since he refuses to talk about it - until he does.

Notes:

Mind the tags, please...

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Harry exhales slowly, dangling his legs. The Astronomy Tower is so tall that he can barely make out the ground. All this free space before him makes him feel lighter than he has in days, stuck in this castle crammed full of people.

It’d be so easy to jump.

Shivering, Harry wraps the cloak closer around himself, inhaling the calming smell of old stones and potion fumes that clings to the fabric. He doesn’t actually want to jump. It’d be stupid to give up now, after everything he got through. But knowing it’s an option, that he can say enough is enough when things become too much to handle... it’s comforting to have that option. He knows what it’s like not having that option.

Harry purses his lips when he realizes he isn’t alone anymore. His senses are sharp, always on the lookout for danger, and nowadays, people rarely try to sneak up on him which makes it a lot easier to notice their presence. Somebody’s magic brushes against his, warm and spicy, and Harry doesn’t need to turn his head to know who’s glaring daggers into his back.

“Good evening, Professor Snape,” Harry murmurs, letting his gaze wander over the Forbidden Forest.

The way Snape’s magic whirls around him tells Harry everything he needs to know. Snape is furious.

“Seventy points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew yet again. Now get off of that edge before you fall to your death.”

Harry blinks, twisting his head around. He actually looks concerned. Rolling his eyes, Harry turns around and jumps to his feet, already missing all that empty space in front of him. Instinctively, Harry draws the cloak closer around himself, the comforting way it slides over his skin enough to calm his nerves.

Snape narrows his eyes, letting them wander over Harry’s body from head to toe. “You’re wearing my cloak.”

Harry takes a small step back, gripping the sleeves tightly. He can’t have it back. I need it.

“You broke into my office,” Snape hisses. “You broke into my office and you stole from me.”

Harry looks at him carefully. Snape’s nostrils are flared, his eyes glinting in the faint light of the moon. His right hand twitches as if he’s ready to reach for his wand at a moment’s notice. That, combined with the way Snape’s magic expands around him as if it’s trying to consume Harry, should have been enough to make Harry cower in fear.

Sorry, Snape. I’m no longer capable of seeing you as a threat.

“Explain yourself.”

For half a second, Harry considers telling the truth, simply because he can’t think of a good lie — how do you explain why you stole your professor’s clothes? It’s no wonder, really, that Snape thinks it’s weird and wants an explanation. But the truth is too embarrassing and Snape probably wouldn’t believe him, anyway.

Harry sighs, pulling out his wallet. “How much do you want for it?”

Snape’s eyes are bulging. “My clothes are not for sale, Potter. Now hand it over. I won’t ask a second time.”

Harry hunches his shoulders. “But-”

Snape growls, apparently at the end of his patience. His wand jumps into his hand.

Harry is forced to let go of the fabric and the cloak gets yanked off him, flying directly into Snape’s hand.

Harry bites his lips, hard, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. There are words at the tip of his tongue and it takes all of his willpower to keep them from slipping out.

Don’t do this, please. It’s the only thing keeping me sane right now. Please, let me have this. Just this one thing. I won’t ask more of you than that, I promise, please-

“I will accompany you to the Gryffindor tower since I don’t trust you not to get lost on the way there.”

Harry wraps his arms around his middle, staring at the floor. His eyes are burning. He has no idea what he just did, has he? I should have been more careful. If I had put a glamor on the cloak, then maybe-

“Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?”

Harry blinks and slowly raises his gaze. Why would Snape think he’s sick? Oh. Harry straightens up and lets his arms fall to his sides, blinking away the wetness in his eyes.

“No.” When Snape narrows his eyes suspiciously, Harry sighs. “I’m fine. I just... need some sleep.”

“I suggest not wandering around the castle in the middle of the night, then.”

Harry turns away, hoping to hide his grimace that way. He doubts he’ll be able to sleep without Snape’s cloak to calm him down. He’d been struggling to find sleep even when he had it. It’s why he isn’t in bed right now, even though he’s dead tired.

“That’s a great idea, sir. I’ll try to keep it in mind.”

Snape curls his lips. “Careful, Potter. You don’t want to lose even more house points, do you?”

I don’t give a shit about house points. He can’t say stuff like that, though. He doesn’t need anyone to pay him even more attention than they already are. Ever since Harry came back after disappearing from the face of the earth, everyone seems to be staring at him all the time. Part of that is just Harry’s paranoia, but he can’t blame it on that entirely. He hasn’t told anyone what happened during the three days he was gone, so he can’t blame people for being curious.

When Snape whirls around, beckoning Harry to follow, the faint smell of old stones and potion fumes reaches his nose and he feels some of the tension in his chest easing. He stays closer to Snape than he probably should have on their way to the Gryffindor tower, hoping to catch more of that scent.

***

Sleeping turns out to be impossible, just like he assumed. Eventually, he gives up and goes down to the common room to finish his homework. While he’s not really in the condition to do that — his head is pounding from lack of sleep — it’s still better than potentially getting lost in his own head. Ever since he came back, he’s been looking for things to distract himself with and luckily his professors are making that fairly easy with all the homework they are giving them.

When he finishes the last essay, the sun is rising, flooding the common room with warm light. He won’t be alone for much longer. Yawning, Harry packs up his things.

I’ll have to steal some Dreamless Sleep. It’s not the first time that thought crossed his mind and not even the first time he ended up going through with it. He would probably have gotten away with simply asking for the potion, but that wouldn’t have been a good idea in the long run. You aren’t supposed to drink Dreamless Sleep regularly, so Madam Pomfrey would eventually have denied his request. Stealing it then would have been more suspicious. Besides, he doesn’t need anyone to know how much trouble he has sleeping.

Rubbing his dry eyes, Harry stands up and goes back upstairs to take a shower and put on some fresh clothes.

***

The day drags on endlessly. Harry does his best not to appear like he stayed up the whole night and he thinks he’s doing fairly well, all in all. It’s easy not to doze off during class, even though he feels tired as shit — he doesn’t want to unsettle anyone by waking up screaming or by having a panic attack in the middle of the classroom.

He skips lunch to steal a few vials out of Madam Pomfrey’s supply after taking a look at the Marauder’s Map to make sure she’s nowhere near.

I just hope the potion will be enough to let me get some rest.

It isn’t enough.

When he drinks one of the vials that night, he does fall asleep, but he jolts upright only thirty minutes later, his heart pounding away in his chest. Panting, Harry shoves the sheets away, his pajamas clinging to his sweaty skin.

Fuck this shit.

Harry reaches for his wand, vanishing his sweat. Then he climbs out of bed and puts on some clothes, shoving the Marauder’s Map into a pocket of his cloak after taking a quick look at it.

Throwing his Invisibility Cloak over his head, Harry sneaks out of the dorm, leaving his snoring classmates behind.

***

He increased his security. Well, I suppose I can’t blame him. Harry almost feels guilty for what he’s about to do. He doesn’t actually want to steal from Snape. There’s no other way, though. He needs to sleep. If he keeps getting worse and worse, people will start to notice. Everyone already thinks he’s a lunatic for saying that Voldemort is back. If they find out how fucked up in the head he truly is...

Well. It’s better not to think about it.

He needs a few minutes to crack Snape’s security, but once that is taken care of, he slips into Snape’s office to grab a cloak hanging over a chair, leaving a few Galleons behind in its stead. After glancing around, Harry leaves, not wanting to increase the chances of Snape catching him.

He actually manages to get a few hours of sleep that night, his nose buried in Snape’s soft cloak.

There will be consequences for stealing from Snape again, he is sure of that, but none he won’t be able to live with.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

“A word, Potter.”

Harry sighs, slumping back down on his chair. Ron and Hermione glance at him with a mixture of confusion and concern on their faces, and he can’t even blame them. They’ve been weirdly protective of him since he came back. They seem to know how close he is to falling apart, though they haven’t pushed Harry into talking about what happened while he was gone. Not yet, anyway.

“Harry,” Hermione whispers, her voice low enough that it shouldn’t carry to Snape’s ears. “Do you want us to-”

“Go. It’s fine. He probably just wants to assign me detention.”

“Why?” Ron asks, not bothering to keep his voice low. “You didn’t do anything!”

Harry forces back a grimace. He loves his friends, he really does, but he had to live without them for so long that it feels weird to suddenly have them in his corner again — especially since he doesn’t need their support in this case.

“Like I said, it’s fine. I already know what Snape will say. Go.”

His friends open their mouths like they want to protest, but to his relief, it only takes one glare to shut them up. They mean well, Harry reminds himself as they pack up their things and hesitantly leave the classroom. They know I’m not doing well, and they want to support me. They don’t know there is nothing they can do for me.

Harry relaxes slightly once his friends left the room, leaving him alone with Snape. There is comfort in knowing that Snape won’t treat him like something fragile. It makes him feel like he can actually get through this and become a normal, functioning person again.

Snape steps forward until he’s standing right before him, only the table separating them. Harry lays his head back to keep an eye on him.

“You stole from me. Again.”

Harry hides a wince, lowering his gaze slightly. Remember: no eye contact. He doesn’t need to know how much of a mess I am.

Harry watches as Snape pulls something out of a pocket of his cloak, slamming it onto the table between them. Galleons. Six of them, the exact amount Harry left behind when he broke into Snape’s office last night.

“I don’t know what game you think you’re playing, but I will only say this once.” Snape leans forward, placing his hands on the edge of the table. “I do not care what happened during the three days you were gone. It doesn’t give you the right to break the rules. The rest of the school might pity you and will let all kinds of things slide since you are clearly not yourself, but I am not one of those people. You have until tomorrow evening to return what you stole. If you do that, I’ll be satisfied with giving you only one week of detention. If you don’t, you will have detention with me until the end of the school year or until you give in.”

Harry lowers his gaze, not knowing if he should laugh or draw up his shoulders in discomfort. Is it that obvious that I went through hell? Or is Snape more perceptive than most?

It doesn’t take a lot to notice that Harry’s behavior has changed, but most students probably don’t spend a second thought on it, especially the ones that aren’t in the same year as him. Everyone has their own problems that they need to deal with, after all. Snape is a spy, though. It’s only natural that he pays closer attention to the people around him.

I still think it’s funny he thinks he can scare me off with detention, of all things.

Sighing, Harry stands up, reaching for his bag. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, then. When do you want me to show up?”

Snape curls his lips, pulling back slightly and straightening up. “8 o’clock. And I do mean every day, Potter, Saturday and Sunday included.”

“Okay,” Harry murmurs, sliding the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

Harry turns to leave, but-

“Wait.” When Harry glances at him questioningly, Snape shoves the Galleons toward him. “Take your money back. I won’t let you continue thinking that you bought the cloak.”

Harry hesitates, his gaze lingering on the coins. Then he slowly shakes his head. “You won’t get your cloak back, Sir. I know you think I’ll give in. I won’t. Consider this payment for having to spend hundreds of hours with me in the coming months. I’ll see you in a few hours, sir.”

Harry feels Snape’s eyes on him all the way to the door. Ron and Hermione are waiting for him outside, bothering him with countless questions, and he wishes he could just tell them to mind their own business.

“He what?” Ron says after Harry summarized his conversation with Snape. “He can’t give you detention for the rest of the school year!”

“Sure, he can. He did give me a way out.”

“Why aren’t you taking it?” Hermione asks, narrowing her eyes slightly. “What did you steal from him, anyway?”

Harry shrugs, avoiding her gaze. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not giving it back.” At least not until I can sleep somewhat decently without it.

“Harry-”

“There is something good about this, though. Umbridge can’t give me detention anymore since Snape is taking up all of my time.”

“How is that a good thing?” Ron asks, frowning. “What makes Umbridge’s detentions worse than Snape’s? She usually makes you write lines, right?”

“Yeah, with my own blood.”

“What?” Ron asks coldly while Hermione just stares at him with wide eyes. Harry shrugs, adjusting the strap of his bag.

“You can’t let her get away with that!” Hermione grabs his shoulder, forcing him to stop in his tracks. “We need to tell Professor Dumbledore.”

“No. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction.”

“Satis...? Harry! What she’s doing is illegal!”

“So what?” Harry drawls, shrugging off her hand. “She’ll make it legal.”

“That’s ridiculous. She doesn’t have that kind of power.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair, fighting down his irritation. “Can we not talk about this right now? We’ll be late to Transfiguration if we don’t hurry up.”

That works — at least for a while. Harry still spends most of the day trying to convince his friends that they should forget about it. If he had known they would make such a big deal out of it, he never would have mentioned it in the first place.

By the time 8 o’clock rolls around, Harry feels like shouting at his friends until they are forced to back down and show reason. He keeps his temper in check, though. If anything, the time he was gone taught him how to ignore his own needs.

“Listen. It’s my decision how I deal with the adults in my life. I’ll listen to your arguments but so far you haven’t said anything to change my mind. Please don’t do anything against my will while I’m stuck in detention.”

Hermione’s eyes widen. “Of course not!”

“Harry,” Ron says quietly, taking a step closer. “We’re only trying to help you. You know that, right?”

“Sure,” Harry forces himself to say. “But it doesn’t feel like that, right now. Just give me some space to breathe, okay? Please?”

His friends nod hesitantly, glancing at each other.

“Good. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

And without giving his friends the chance to draw him into another argument, Harry turns towards the corridor leading to the dungeons. He will have to hurry so he won’t be late.

Chapter 3

Notes:

Cliffhanger ahead

Chapter Text

“You’ll be preparing potion ingredients.”

Harry blinks. That’s the last thing he expected to hear.

“Problem, Potter?” Snape sneers.

“You know I suck at Potions,” Harry says bluntly. “Aren’t you worried I’ll do a shitty job and mess up your ingredients?”

“Ten points from Gryffindor for swearing.” Seriously? “I know you are incapable of following anything but simple instructions, therefore I will only give you tasks you can’t mess up. Don’t even think about doing badly on purpose. I know exactly what you are and aren’t capable of.”

Harry nods, ignoring the jab. He’s even worse at everything involving potion ingredients and brewing than Snape knows since he went so long without spending another thought on it. The same applies to a lot of other things, too, of course. It’s a surprise that no one has noticed a significant drop in his capabilities yet — or maybe some people have noticed it but they think it’s only temporary.

Harry knows it isn’t temporary. He’s forgotten so much during the time he was gone.

“Sit down.”

Harry does as told and listens to Snape’s instructions carefully. As it turns out, Snape stays true to his word. There’s a lot of cutting and slicing and peeling to do, but nothing that requires a particular amount of skill or precision. It’s kind of nice to do something useful during detention for once.

The first two hours go by surprisingly fast, the silence between them almost comfortable. His tasks are a bit repetitive, but it’s supposed to be a punishment, so that’s fine. It helps that the whole room smells like Snape, calming his nerves and making him feel at ease.

After cutting up the last of the Foxglove, Snape places a large amount of some kind of root in front of him.

“This is bitter root,” Snape explains, but Harry barely even hears him. The sharp, earthy smell is nauseatingly familiar.

“It needs to be peeled. Make sure not to leave any skin behind. Once you are done, you can go.”

Harry swallows and reaches for his knife. His hands are shaking and he can’t seem to get it under control, even though he has to. If Snape notices-

He’s in a corner of a dark cell, the sharp taste of the potion still on his tongue, and-

No. No, he’s not there. He got out. He’s in Snape’s office, stuck in detention-

-and he knows what will happen next. Voldemort forced this potion down his throat more times than he can count and-

It’s over. Voldemort can’t touch him anymore. He’s safe.

His throat closes up. Harry claws at his neck, opening up his skin and making himself bleed, even though he knows it’s pointless. He’ll be gasping for breath until he feels like he’s losing his mind-

Harry takes a deep, calming breath. Snape didn’t poison him. He had no way of knowing that the smell would affect him like this. Feeling Snape’s eyes on him, Harry hastily reaches for the nearest root and starts peeling it with his knife. The sharp smell increases as he removes more and more of the skin. The shaking of his hands gets worse and he feels increasingly lightheaded.

And then his hand slips, cutting deep into the palm of his left hand. For a second or two, Harry watches as the blood runs down his skin. Then he abruptly pulls it back, but it’s too late. A few drops of blood have already fallen onto the roots below, soiling them. Shit. I can’t do anything right, can I?

Harry leans down to open his bag, looking for a handkerchief or something else he can press against the wound to stop the blood from spilling everywhere. And then he hears a low hiss and he pauses, glancing up. It doesn’t surprise him that Snape noticed he cut himself — Harry stopped working, after all. What does surprise him is that Snape’s gaze isn’t fixed on the ruined roots but on the still bleeding cut.

When Snape draws his wand, Harry tenses against his better judgment. He won’t hurt me, Harry reminds himself. It’s just the smell that’s making me jumpy.

Snape pulls Harry’s hand toward him before pointing his wand at the cut. He murmurs something, a spell that Harry instantly recognizes. It had been used on him countless times while he was gone since Voldemort wouldn’t let him bleed to death. The skin closes up, not even leaving behind a scar. Then Snape vanishes the blood, erasing all evidence that Harry ever got hurt. After that, Snape lets go of his hand immediately, pulling back.

Harry exhales slowly, keeping his gaze on the table. He still feels jumpy and light-headed and he’s pretty sure Snape must have felt how much his hand was shaking while he was healing him.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about the roots.”

There is still some blood on them and vanishing it probably won’t work. A few traces might remain and potion ingredients have a habit of reacting strongly to wizarding blood.

“You look sick.”

Confused, Harry glances up. “What? I’m fine.”

Snape narrows his eyes and he is looking at Harry far too closely for Harry’s taste. He’s not supposed to pay attention to me. He’s far too perceptive.

Snape swings his wand and- Ah. A diagnostic spell.

“See? There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“You are severely sleep-deprived and emotionally distraught,” Snape murmurs, studying the results. “Tell me why.”

Harry winces, avoiding Snape’s gaze. Stupid diagnostic spells. Voldemort never paid attention to that side of them.

“What will you do with these?” Harry murmurs, gesturing at the roots still lying between them. It would be so much easier to concentrate if he wouldn’t have to keep smelling them. The muscles in his upper back are so tense that he’s worried they might snap. “Will you turn them into poison?”

Suddenly, the roots turn into thin air and all the tension seeps out of Harry, leaving behind sweet relief. But why…?

Questioningly, he looks up at Snape.

“Who tortured you with the Suffocation Potion?”

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

“That’s what it’s called?” The words slip out before Harry can stop himself. The relief still running through his veins is making him careless. “I mean, why do you think...?”

“Why I think you were poisoned with it? Simple. There is only one poison that contains bitter root and it would explain why the smell disturbed you. The potion tends to leave a lasting impression on people.”

Harry frowns, folding his arms. “I don’t see how that is any of your business. Just give me a mask or something and I’ll be able to peel the roots just fine.”

“It matters because the potion is highly illegal. Who forced you to drink it?”

“Why is everyone so concerned about legality today?” Harry mutters, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “I don’t think I’ll have to drink it again, so it doesn’t matter. Could you please give me something to cut up, now? That’s why I’m here, right?”

“Potter.” Harry’s stomach clenches up at hearing the seriousness in Snape’s voice. “You won’t leave my office until you tell me who poisoned you.”

Damn it. Why is he acting like he cares? He doesn’t, right? I’d be thrilled if he cared if I had more than his cloak to cling to for comfort, but I know that’s just wishful thinking.

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry repeats. “It happened while I was gone and you already said that you don’t care what happened during that time.”

Ah, that sounded sharper and more accusatory than I wanted. Well, it’s Snape’s fault for refusing to let it go.

Snape takes a deep breath, and Harry wonders how close he is to losing his patience. “It doesn’t matter insofar as it doesn’t give you an excuse to break curfew and steal from me. If someone hurt you during that time, then that’s still relevant.”

Harry blinks up at him, trying to decide how much of that he actually means. Snape can’t stand him. Would he really care if he found out what happened to Harry?

“Your well-being matters, Potter,” Snape says quietly. “Don’t keep quiet out of a false sense of pride.”

And just like that, Harry’s hopefulness turns into thin air.

“Right,” Harry drawls. “My well-being matters. Because of the Prophecy, right?”

“How do you know about the Prophecy?” Snape asks, his voice sharp.

Harry shrugs. “I found out about it while I was gone. I know I’ll have to kill Voldemort or he’ll kill me. I’ll do what I have to. No need to fuss over me because you’re worried I might break before I can serve my purpose.”

Harry isn’t sure what to make of Snape’s expression. It almost seems like he’s at a loss for words. But that’s ridiculous, right?

“You were the Dark Lord’s prisoner, weren’t you? How did you escape?”

Harry grimaces, though it’s no surprise Snape came to that conclusion. Not a lot of people would be willing to force-feed Harry a potion like that and Harry admitted that he found out about the Prophecy while he was gone.

Harry lowers his gaze, running his hand along the shaft of the knife. It still feels weird that he’s allowed access to a weapon like that. He had nothing but his hands and feet to protect himself while he was Voldemort’s prisoner.

Snape sighs. “Why are you making such a big secret out of what happened to you during those three days? You must realize that dealing with it on your own will be much harder.”

“It wasn’t just three days,” Harry murmurs, pulling his hand away from the knife. “I was gone for three years.”

Harry draws up his shoulders, waiting for Snape to laugh and call him insane. Instead, Snape pulls up a chair and sits down across from him.

“Tell me what you mean by that.”

Harry shrugs, glancing away. “I was gone for roughly a thousand days. I know how that sounds. What’s the point in telling anyone anything if they won’t believe me, anyway?”

“You don’t show any signs of lying.” Harry’s eyes snap toward him, going wide against his will. “It sounds like you were either stuck in another dimension where time moves differently or you were trapped inside your own mind and fed a highly complex illusion, one only the Dark Lord would have had the power to create.”

Harry leans back, blinking slowly. “You believe me?”

“Yes, Potter. I believe you.”

Harry bites his lip, glancing down at the table. “I don’t think it was an illusion. Voldemort wouldn’t have... There were times where I wasn’t suffering and Voldemort wouldn’t have allowed those if he’d had complete control over what was happening.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Snape warns. “The Dark Lord loves to play mind games. Giving you something to cling to for hope only to rip it away from you is exactly what he’d do.”

Harry shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t an illusion. That would mean Voldemort could do it again. He could put me back into that cell. He could chip away at my sanity until I’d lose my mind for good-”

“Harry.” Snape wraps his hand around Harry’s wrist, anchoring him. “Listen to me. You are safe. Nobody can hurt you.”

Harry looks into those black eyes, feeling the comforting pressure around his wrist. Slowly, he feels his mind calming down and his heartbeat returning to normal. And then he realizes what he’s doing, and he hastily looks away.

He could have entered my mind. He could have seen everything that happened to me.

Harry pulls his arm back and Snape lets go of his wrist at once.

“Why are you so nice to me?”

“I...” Snape frowns. “I’m not being nice. It’s not nice to make you talk about this.”

“But you’re not mocking me. You’re not even telling me to talk with someone else about this, like Dumbledore or McGonagall.”

“Well, you haven’t reached out to them so far, have you? You want to forget what happened, don’t you? You want to pretend that you can go back to being the boy you were before. The headmaster and Minerva would be too lenient with you because they’d be worried about making you feel bad. There is no point in sending you to them.”

Harry frowns. He’s not too sure that’s actually the case. Dumbledore had no problem urging him to talk about what happened the night Voldemort came back.

“Is there a way to know for sure whether I was in a different dimension? If it was an illusion and it could happen again...” Harry swallows. “...then I need to know.”

He won’t go through that again. He can’t. If Snape is right with his suspicion, he has to find a way to protect himself against it. And if there isn’t a way to do that… Well.

He’s not going back there one way or another.

“There’s a way to do that, yes,” Snape says slowly. “Someone would have to enter your mind-”

“No. Anything but that.”

Voldemort did that too, taking the last bit of his privacy away from him. Just the thought of letting anyone poke around in his mind makes him sick to his stomach.

“There has to be another way. Please tell me there’s another way.”

Chapter 5

Notes:

Last chapter!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“It wouldn’t take long, only a few seconds. If you don’t trust me to do it, we could ask the headmaster-”

“No! I don’t want him to know. I don’t want anyone to know.”

Snape narrows his eyes, leaning back. “You told me without much prompting from me.”

Harry draws up his shoulders, refusing to make eye contact. I should have kept my mouth shut. Snape hates me. Why would he want to help me?

“Ah. I get it now.” Harry blinks as Snape pulls off his cloak and walks around the desk, laying the cloak over Harry’s shoulders.

Harry stares at him as Snape sits back down.

“Better now?”

Yes. It’s impossible to deny and just as embarrassing. Heat rises to his cheeks and he lowers his gaze. “How...?”

“It’s why you stole from me in the first place, isn’t it? Whether it was an illusion or you were in a different dimension, the version of me you encountered tried to help you, didn’t he?”

Harry grimaces, pulling Snape’s cloak closer around himself. Fuck. He must think I’m beyond pathetic.

“I don’t want you to look at my memories.”

“I understand, but we can’t protect you if we don’t know what happened.”

Harry bites his lip until he tastes blood. “Who do you mean by ‘we?’ I told you I don’t want anyone else to know about this.”

Snape narrows his eyes. “If you insist, I won’t involve anyone else. But you do realize that I will have to be the one to enter your mind in that case.”

Harry closes his eyes, clenching his fists. He hates everything about this. He’d hoped to finally get some privacy and control over his life back, now that he’d escaped.

I don’t have a choice, do I? The possibility of ending up in that cell again...

“Fine,” Harry whispers, defeated.

Snape nods. “Good. Close your eyes, then.”

What? He wants to do it now?

Well, the sooner, the better, I suppose.

Harry inhales slowly, closing his eyes.

“Choose a memory from that time that isn’t too painful. Bring it to the forefront of your mind by focusing on it and tell me when you’re ready. This way, we’ll be able to keep this short and simple.”

It takes a while until Harry settles on a memory. He doesn’t want Snape to see any of the torture sessions or his moments of weakness. That narrows down the possible memories significantly.

Eventually, Harry opens his eyes, squaring his shoulders. “Go ahead.”

I hope he won’t be too disgusted when he sees this one.

They lock eyes and Harry’s heart skips a beat. It feels like Snape is looking straight into his soul and he knows it’s about to get even worse.

“Stop stalling.”

A hint of annoyance flickers over Snape’s face and then Harry feels it. The pressure against his mind is subtle, barely noticeable. Once Snape scrapes more than the surface of his thoughts, Harry gets pulled into his own head all at once.

Shivering, Harry leans further against Snape, burying his head against his chest. A gentle hand runs through his hair and down his back to the base of his spine. Harry closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. He cherishes these rare moments of affection.

“You should sleep.”

He knows he should. Voldemort is gone for the moment, but he’ll be back soon. He’ll need all the strength he can get to handle whatever he’ll have in store for him. Still...

“Will you be there when I wake up?”

Snape leans down, brushing his lips against Harry’s forehead. He knows what Snape’s silence means. He can’t stay. He already lingered longer than he should have. It’s dangerous for Snape to offer him any kind of comfort.

“Promise me you’ll be back,” Harry murmurs, feeling a lump growing in his throat.

“You know I will.”

Harry tightens his grip on Snape’s waist. Then he forces his muscles to go lax.

Snape is right. He does need to sleep.

The memory ends as abruptly as it started. Snape is murmuring something soothingly and Harry latches on to that, trying to stop his body from trembling so much.

It takes a while until he realizes that his arms are wrapped around Snape’s middle, similar to how they were in his memory. He isn’t sure when Snape walked around the desk and he doesn’t particularly care.

I wonder why he’s so lenient with me. I doubt he likes it that I’m clinging onto him like a baby.

“Well?” Harry murmurs against Snape’s stomach. “What did you find out?”

Something touches his shoulder and when he squints at it, he sees that it’s Snape’s hand. Instinctively, he tightens his grip, worried Snape will push him away. He knows it’s stupid, but he’s not ready to let go.

“It wasn’t an illusion.”

Harry exhales, loosening his grip slightly. “So I was in another dimension. That’s… good.”

Harry winces. His voice sounds hollow and dried-out, even to his own ears.

“How did I end up in another dimension?”

“You don’t know how you disappeared?”

Harry shakes his head. “My memory of that day is blurry. I only remember passing out in the Room of Requirement.”

“Hm. The magic of that room is unique in a lot of ways. No one knows how it works, exactly. I suggest staying as far away from it as possible going forward.”

Harry shivers. He’d already been doing that on instinct, but hearing Snape say so bluntly that the room might be dangerous makes the danger feel even more real.

“You should go to sleep.”

Harry tenses, tightening his grip. His nerves feel rubbed raw like he’s about to be consumed by his darkest memories. Trying to sleep sounds like madness.

“I can’t.”

“You can. If you managed to find sleep while the Dark Lord could walk in on you at any moment, then you can manage it now that you’re safe, too.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut which only increases the pounding in his head. “I didn’t exactly sleep while I was gone. It felt more like passing out from exhaustion. And I... I haven’t really found a way to break out of that pattern yet. Even Dreamless Sleep doesn’t work on me like it should. What if… What if I wake up back in that cell? What if the last weeks only happened in my mind because I couldn’t cope with the situation anymore? What if Voldemort got what he wanted and I lost my mind?”

“You are not insane. Insane people don’t worry about being insane. Go to bed, Harry. You’ll see things more clearly once you get some rest.”

Harry tightens his grip. “Don’t send me away.”

Deep down, Harry knows how embarrassing and over the top he’s acting, but he can’t bring himself to care. It’s like the parts of him that care what Snape thinks of him were scraped off somewhere during their conversation.

He fully expects Snape to shrug him off, maybe even to utter a spell that will force him to let go. Instead, Snape lets out a long sigh.

“Stand up.”

Harry hesitates. Snape’s voice sounds a lot like he is giving in, but why does he want Harry to get up, then?

“I’m not sending you away. You’ll sleep in my quarters if that’s the only way for you to get some rest.”

Harry hesitates for another second or two before he slowly climbs to his feet. His legs feel wobbly, causing him to lean heavily against Snape’s side for support. He tightens his grip when Snape pulls him through the room to the door leading to Snape’s private quarters. Halfway across the room, Harry closes his eyes, hiding his face against Snape’s chest. Snape probably could have dragged him all the way to the dorms and Harry wouldn’t have had the strength to keep him from getting his will.

He hears two doors opening and closing as Snape drags him along. Then his legs brush against something soft at about knee-height and Snape helps him sit down on the mattress.

“You can let go, now.”

“No.”

Snape sighs but he doesn’t sound half as annoyed as Harry thought he would. “You can’t sleep like this.”

“I can if you lie down next to me.” When Snape tenses, Harry adds, “I don’t take up a lot of space.”

“The size of my bed isn’t the issue. What you are suggesting is highly inappropriate.”

“You’ve been inside of my mind. It can’t get more inappropriate. Please? I... You’re right. I do need to sleep. My head is pounding.”

The tension in the air is so thick that Harry can almost taste it. And then Snape exhales slowly and he feels the tension seeping out of Snape’s torso.

“Thank you,” Harry murmurs, loosening his grip the slightest bit. A few awkward seconds later they are both lying on the mattress. Harry sinks further against Snape’s chest, hiding his face against his neck.

“Don’t go,” Harry murmurs, already feeling his mind slip away.

“I won’t.”

Notes:

…and that’s the end of this little fic. I know it’s kind of open-ended but I think it works. All the big questions were answered and Snape has proven that he cares and will support Harry.

Anyway, I hope you liked it :)