Chapter 11
That night, Harry's dreams started in much the same way. Flashes of green, wild, serpentine eyes, and searing pain.
He saw Umbridge's face contorting into the shape she called a smile, and looked to see the words 'I must not tell lies' cut so deep into his skin that he saw his own bone.
Snape woke to the sounds of Harry tossing about beneath his blankets, and sat upright, gathering his straight, pitch black hair around his face.
But after a few restless moments, Harry settled.
In his mind, the scene had shifted. Harry turned and saw that Snape was there, his cold, inspecting eyes somehow... soft, consoling.
Images of the man danced across his mind, and memories replayed of their recent days.
Harry.
He awoke with a start, and Snape was by his side in an instant. But... Something was different about the young man this time.
Snape strained to sense those usual ripples of fear in the darkness, but could not detect them. He reached out and placed a hand on his chest, feeling Harry's heart beat rapidly, then felt his hand brushed away.
"Sorry." Harry said, apologizing for his instinctive reaction. He hadn't meant to be brusque, but the sensation of Snape's steady hand on his body sent shivers through him. He was grateful that in the dark of the night the meticulous man could not see his expression or the redness that gathered on the surface of his cheeks.
"Your dream." Snape began. "Was it a nightmare?" Harry's reaction to it all was unusual, and he felt the need to clarify in order to better understand the next steps he should take to care for him.
"Well... yes. For a moment." Harry shifted, the warmth in his face worsening. He was embarrassed to know the explicit details of the thoughts that had populated his mind.
"You fought it off, then." Snape concluded, relieved. He was proud Harry had found a way to defend himself, even if only at the end of the nightmare. But if he could learn to utilize that ability, whatever thoughts he clung to in order to banish the Dark Lord from his mind, he would finally be safe.
"How did you do it?" The professor asked, needing to know what it was that brought Harry back when darkness closed in on his mind. If he knew, he could help Harry's will develop quicker, and his safety would be within an arm's reach.
But Harry didn't want to answer the question.
"It's... Private." Harry said.
Snape was taken back slighty. "I'm afraid the Dark Lord would disagree, Potter."
Harry knew he was right, of course. But he just couldn't tell him. Under no circumstances could he reveal that the thoughts which just crossed his mind. Thoughts of the tall, intelligent, scrutinizing man that sat beside him.
No, at all costs, he would have to keep this hidden.
"I'm a bit tired, Professor. Can we talk more about this tomorrow?" Harry said, hoping that he could buy himself enough time to think of a convincing lie by morning.
Snape's expression didn't change, but the pause in conversation told Harry he was considering the option. "Very well." He said, finally.
The Potions Master rose from his seat and proceeded to his desk.
I suppose he won't be going back to sleep. Harry thought to himself as he turned his back towards Snape, who was now scratching something down on parchment.
Harry didn't think too much of it given that the professor tended to keep busy even into the wee hours of the night. Instead, his mind drifted back to those distracting thoughts.
Harry.
He stole a glance at the man working behind him and let the image sink in before turning away bashfully.
As if things weren't difficult enough. Harry thought. His emotions had been complicated lately, and to add to the matter he had these thoughts of Snape.
Why was I thinking about him? Harry wondered, but dropped the subject as soon as he had thought it up.
Sleep. Just, sleep. He told himself. But it would be quite some time before his mind calmed down enough to let his drowsiness take hold.