Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 12

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26 Sept 1991 - 3am Thursday

In his dreams the nightmare screams were neatly packed away into a trunk that was then pushed deep into a dark cupboard. A gentle hum of some lost lullaby pervaded the dreams and Harry looked around the jumbled mess of his mind.

He wanted to cry. Or shout. It was messy and scary despite the pretty voice he was hearing. He wanted someone to hold him and to tell him it was all going to be all right.

"Harry?"

Harry lifted his head hopefully. He knew that voice. "Dark Man," he sighed with relief. Dark Man was very far away but Harry felt safe now that he was here.

"Harry, child, come along now. Wake up."

"I'm coming Dark Man! Don't go away!" shouted Harry. He ran away from the jumbled mess of painful memories and towards the voice of safety and comfort.

Harry woke with a start and a sob in his throat from his dreams. Before he even had to reach out and silently ask, arms enveloped him. Warm wool that smelled of spices and herbs surrounded him. Harry wrapped his arms around the waist of his teacher, not even caring that as he sobbed, his tears were wetting the man's long coat.

After several minutes, Snape felt the tears waning and the hitch in the boy's breath that signaled a near end to the tears. "Harry," he asked, his deep voice thrumming gently in his chest. "Can you tell me what happened in Professor Quirrell's class." He felt the panicked shaking of the boy's head.

Snape sighed, patted the boy's back a bit more and then pulled Harry away slightly. "I know that you are frightened, Harry, but did you know you scared all your classmates?"

"No, sir?" Harry hiccuped.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy told me what they saw, but I would like to know from you what happened."

Harry's hand reached up and he touched his teacher's cheek, as if to reassure himself that the worry he saw in Professor Snape's eyes was real. Snape was a little taken aback by the gesture, but he gave the child a smile to encourage him.

Harry didn't speak right away. Since the odour of disinfectant was doing away with the more pleasant smell of the older man, Harry's nose wrinkled as he recognised that he was in the Infirmary.

The small boy sighed, and began to speak quietly, "I didn't want to help Professor Quirrell, but he just was being so nice and... so anyway, I went up to the front of the class. I couldn't hear the professor anymore. There was a voice... in my head..." Harry suddenly made the connection. "It was the same one I heard in my nightmares!"

"Nightmares?" asked Snape. He hadn't been wakened in a few days and had hoped that the nightmares Harry had had earlier were gone.

Harry nodded. "I'm always having bad dreams about the Dursleys but these..." he huffed, sniffed, and was thankful when his teacher urged him to blow his nose in the handkerchief that appeared. Once he felt a little clearer, Harry explained, "They started about two days ago, sir, the nightmares did. Only, I'm not sure if they are nightmares. They seem so..." he grimaced in distaste, "real."

"Go on, Harry. Let me see if we can figure this out together," Snape urged. He wanted to hear what had happened in the DADA class, but if Harry's nightmares were connected to what happened in Quirrell's class, then he needed to know.

Harry slid back so his rear rested on the bed that Snape and he currently were seated upon, and his legs draped over his professor's. Snape did not move to push Harry's legs from his.

Harry blinked, and swiped at a stray tear. He then began to recite the dream he'd had for the last three nights, "I wake up in the Forbidden Forest. I don't feel scared or anything like that. I seem to know just where I am, too. And... and I'm hungry. More hungry than I ever was at the Dursleys. I'm so hungry that everything hurts inside of me. That's when I see it... a unicorn. I use some kind of spell to trap it and then I... I..." Harry's complexion went ashy and Snape straightened in worry. "I-I-I pull out a knife and I cut its throat!" Harry gasped out. Tears sprang from his eyes and his arms wrapped tightly about himself as he was now reliving the nightmare. "It was silver. It's blood was silver. And I... ugh... I d-d-d-drank it!" Harry wrenched himself from the horrible vision of his dream and sought out his professor's eyes. "I felt sick, but it tasted soooo good!"

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