Chapter Text
The nightmare comes, like most others, unbidden and without a warning. It starts with a landscape he has long since been branded into his memory. The Shrieking Shack stands as proud as it did the day that Severus was almost mauled to death by a mangy flea-ridden, malnourished mutt. This time, however, he isn't viewing the scene as though he is one of the performers, but instead as one of the audience members. He feels like a bunch of scattered particles floating around a vast nothingness when he catches sight of himself storming out of the castle doors with what can only be described as a dopily triumphant look on his face. The pace set by his dream self is reminiscent of the paving of a warpath. Dream Severus is so preoccupied, probably with thoughts of finally getting justice for himself, and perhaps the students and teachers whom Potter and his merry band of idiots have harassed, that he doesn't see Black skulking out of the castle behind him and leaning on the faded bricks with an eerily smug look on his face.
Dream Severus makes his way to the willow tree, in all her murderous glory, pushes on the knot in her bark and makes his way through the trapdoor hidden at the base of her trunk. Distantly, Severus thinks that Black might've wanted to get rid of him permanently, or at least maim him badly enough that he would never recover. So much so that he, with bone-chilling ease, revealed a secret so damning, one so threatening to the very existence of one of his closest friends. Severus thinks, also, of the werewolf. He thinks about how much he would have hated to be Lupin then, betrayed by a trusted friend for momentary victory, for an unsteady leg up over a hated classmate. He wonders how he would have felt if it were him in Lupin's shoes, until he remembers Lily. Furthermore, he recalls how easy it was for her to ignore his existence, how easy it was for her to cut and ice him out of her life. He remembers how frantic he felt trying to gain her forgiveness, even though she did not owe it to him. He remembers how he'd felt as though they hadn't truly been friends since the beginning of their fourth year at Hogwarts.
Abruptly, the scene changes and Severus is no longer standing back pressed against rotting wood, staring his demise straight into its eyes. Instead, he's at the foot of a set of stairs that he knows so intimately, he could never forget them even if he were to be reborn in a different country at a different time. Instantly, he wishes to be returned to The Whomping Willow. He turns around and heads for the front door, intent on escaping before it starts, except when he reaches the door, he cannot open it. The formerly ornate silver door his father Tobias had been so proud of buying all those years ago, is missing. Instead, a solid wooden slab lies in its spot, nailed into place over the door jamb. Undeterred, Severus tries to wiggle his fingers between the nails, tries to pry the slab off, uncaring of whether he hurts himself in the process. Or rather, hurting himself is the least of his worries because he needs to leave. He needs to get out before he becomes the next one to have his brains blown to bits by a lead bullet.
Suddenly, he hears footsteps echoing down the hallway. They're quickly getting louder, like the person heading down the stairs is in a frantic rush. Severus starts scrambling harder, blood dripping down his fingers, his previously well-kept nails now cracked and chipped from the splinters in the wood. The footsteps are getting closer, and they're so loud it feels like they exist only in his head. He's in the middle of trying to convince himself that what's happening is not real, and it's all a dream so he cannot get hurt, when he unknowingly lets his guard down. The repercussion is swift and exact when he feels the barrel of a shotgun against his bruised temple and a large gloved hand finds a home around his neck. The gun feels unusually warm and sticky, and Severus realizes with bile crawling up his throat that the stickiness is blood, his mother's blood. The hand tightens significantly as he starts thrashing at that revelation, the atmosphere in the living room changing from unsettling to terrifying in an instant.
Severus can feel himself begin to hyperventilate as the gravity of the situation dawns on him and the panic begins to build in his lungs. Logically, Severus knows that it's just a dream, and he cannot actually get hurt. However, the memory of the events of this night is still so fresh and vivid in his mind's eye that he cannot help but feel helpless. He can still see, so vividly, where he was tossed into the heavy box television stand. Can still feel the ache in his spine where he was stomped on multiple times with all the force a fully grown man could exert. Can still hear the ringing in his ears from slaps rained against the side of his head. He can still see his mother's bloody corpse through his bloody vision of the first floor landing, her arms strewn over the staircase, as though she was seeking help or maybe salvation for a final time. Severus closes his eyes and accepts his punishment for his inability to save his mother. He resolutely refuses to admit to himself, in the safety of his own head, that it also felt like his punishment for believing that he could ever be free. The tears he's been steadfastly holding back break through his eyelids, as the last bit of hope he had is dashed, and mix with the blood from the cuts and opened bruises on his face. He doesn't know how long the beating goes on for, all he remembers is fading in and out of consciousness. Each time he comes into awareness shorter than the last.
When Alfonso makes his way into Severus' dorm, he's surprised to find someone else occupying the nook in the corner. As he makes his way down the hall to Severus' bedroom, he passes by a few of their classmates, and a quick inquiry informs him that Severus had not been seen by anyone since dinner the night before in Bortfeld Hall. Throwing open the door to Severus' bedroom, Alfonso is greeted with the sight of Severus curled tightly under his blanket. The blanket is thin enough that Alfonso is usually able to easily make out Severus' movements, no matter how minute they are, when he pretends to be asleep so he doesn't have to attend parties he was invited to or avoid having lunch with other people. Right now, though, he's so still that an image of a marble statue pops into Alfonso's head, unbidden. He would probably think that Severus had been hexed in his sleep if he couldn't hear the harsh, lung-rattling breaths coming from underneath the blanket.
It's not as if this is the first time Alfonso has seen Severus in this state, and although he hopes otherwise he sincerely doubts it will be the last, but something about this episode makes him nervous. Typically, when Severus' is having one of his episodes, all he has to do is call his name a couple of times, possibly grab him by the shoulders, shake him a bit, and he snaps right out of it. It's been at least three minutes since Alfonso has been trying to shake Severus awake, at least five since he's been calling his name to no avail. Severus had mentioned it before, and at that time Alfonso had taken it as a throwaway comment, but right now it seems as though his only option will be to douse Severus in cold water and hope that the frigidness is enough to rouse him.
Mind made up, he transfigures a Biro cap into a large bowl and heads over to the wash basin in the corner to fill it up. With the bowl full, he heads back to Severus, pulls the covers off his body and proceeds to dump its contents unceremoniously on his head. Severus jolts upright so quickly that he stumbles backwards in surprise, unable to stop himself from falling on his ass. Severus is still spluttering when he catches sight of Alfonso on the ground and bursts into startled laughter. As he clambers off the rug, grumbling good-naturedly about fake friends, he spots the desperate look in Severus' eyes, as though pleading with him not to bring it up, so he doesn't. He doesn't ask any of the question that line his cheek and blister his tongue with their intensity, instead, he locks them up in the chest that holds every question and curiosity he has ever had for Severus.
And as he sits on Severus' bed, watching him trudge around his bedroom, getting ready for the day, Alfonso can't help but wonder whether the time will come when Severus will feel comfortable enough with him that he opens up about the terrors that anchor him to his past, about the fear that appears in his eyes when someone makes any sudden movements around him, about the distrust that rolls off him in thick cloying waves whenever someone unfamiliar approaches him.
Walking down the hall to first period Arithmancy, Severus is surprisingly chipper, which in his case means that he responds verbally to the people that speak to him along the way instead of his usual perfunctory nod of acknowledgement. Alfonso knows that he is not the only one that notices this change, because he spies Mika Landry walk into a stone pillar after Severus smiles at him. Although Mika, their senior by one year, always has the most embarrassing reactions to Severus noticing him, due to the completely conspicuous crush he harbours for Severus that he resolutely refuses to admit to. So perhaps no one else has noticed that Severus is acting out of the ordinary and Alfonso is just overly sensitive after witnessing his episode earlier in the day.
Fuck, he hopes that it's the latter.