Nobody Cared

Oct 23 to Oct 28

The last of 23 Oct 1991, Wednesday and very early 24 Oct 24 1991, Thursday

Pain. It was red. Blood red. Eyes, red, vicious, tormenting. And, it was fear. It was a searing pain in his arm and memories of a night he had tried forever to expunge from his mind. He wanted to shout, to cry, to hurt someone else, but all he could do was crouch down in the darkness as he tried to shut his eyes against the pain of his inner eye.

Green. Not a healthy, summery green, but a sickly, hateful green. It nearly blinded him and as it exploded in eerie silence around him, he heard a scream. An awful, anguished, frightened scream. And he wanted to cry, to shout, but when he tried, the green light was replaced by a horrible fat face of what looked like a walrus. Beady, hateful eyes and breath that smelled of stale, icky alcohol. And that's when he felt pain. Old pain. He heard the crack of bones, and felt the lingering ache of bruises. He did cry, then. He cried for Dark Man. He cried for Daddy. He cried.

Time passed, and then it did not. It was a century, then it was the blink of an eye. The world flipped upside down, and then it was all right again.

Warmth. Not a temperature, but the warmth one felt when being held by another. Comfort. Safety. It spilled down about like stardust. Someone knew it was a powerful spell, an ancient spell, a calling upon one of the Elements to heal. Someone else knew it as everything was righting itself, fixing itself, doing its best to become normal.

"Daddy," Harry moaned softly. He couldn't feel Daddy, but he knew that he was close. "Daddy?"

"I'm here, child," his Father's voice trembled through his bones and whispered in his ear. "Daddy's here, little one."

Snape couldn't feel Harry, not yet, but he knew that he was still holding that frail, little body. He could feel the ancient magic surrounding himself and his son, healing their pain, keeping the creature, the monster that had attacked Harry, at bay.

"No, don't open your eyes," a voice, Firenze? Said from far away. "Severus, keep your eyes closed and keep Harry's face against your chest."

Snape still couldn't feel Harry, but his memory sense knew his son was in his arms, and he knew that the boy's hands were clutching tightly to his frock coat as he had his cloak wrapped around them both. He obeyed Firenze, and although he was desperate to make sure his boy was safe, he kept his eyes tightly closed and ordered his hand to gently cup Harry's head so that his face would not turn away from his chest.

Harry still hurt, but the pain felt like it was being gently brushed away by the breath of moonlight. He knew his Daddy held him tightly and he knew he wasn't supposed to open his eyes. He didn't want to. He wanted to stay where time was frozen so he'd never dream about the monster again.

It was the saltiness of tears that he sensed first. Then he felt their wetness through his frock coat against his chest. All sensation came back and it was a little dizzying, a bit nauseating. Harry whimpered in his arms and he held him tightly.

Snape had no idea what Firenze was doing, but deep down in his soul he understood that this was powerful magic that the Centaur was performing. As more awareness returned, he then knew that not only had he been drawn into his son's mind, but Harry had held tightly onto him both physically and mentally. When the old, old pain of the Dark Mark had flared at the sight of Voldemort, it had locked the minds and the magic of Father to son, trapping them in all their fears, all their pains.

It was worse than anything Snape had ever felt from the Dementors his short time in Azkaban.

"Open your eyes now," Firenze said gently, as though his voice might disturb the magic.