When All is Lost, One is Found

Author: Rinoaebastel

Chapter 47: Nightmares

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and gain no profit from this fanfiction other than writing practice. JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.

AN: This story may contain scenes taken from the Harry Potter movies and books, but it's not exact dialogue, just rewording of dialogue or omission. It is not marked.

November 1996

The books were spread around the small rectangular wooden table, opened on different pages and showing various kinds of curses and their counter curses. Most of the text was strikethrough and the margins were filled with small elegant handwriting, almost making the book illegible for anyone except its owner.

The brown quill moved with haste as he wrote new notes with the material he was gathering from the books and from his experience through the years.

A book had answers but not for everything. There were variants, situations in which things could change in a second. It was hard to predict what some of his brain-dead students would do, but he'd managed to keep them alive so far. It was made even more difficult by the fact they put no effort into the class and didn't even look at the material most of the time. They didn't realize the value in having a former Death Eater teaching them how to fight.

He had a few bright students, but there was only one person that was as meticulous as he was. Unfortunately, the rest of the students avoided her like a plague now that she didn't stick with Potter. If they'd stuck with her instead of him, they might've learned something. She was the brains of that group. He was going to have to intervene if things didn't get better soon, but right now, he intended to make her strong on her own. She had to gain confidence. She needed to learn that they needed her, but she most certainly didn't need them.

A soft knock interrupted his trail of thoughts. He frowned at the door and then checked the clock to make sure he hadn't lost track of time. It was two in the morning. Usually, only Dumbledore would be awake enough to come down here. The only other way someone would come is if there was a problem with one of the Slytherins. The latter was more probable since the headmaster had taken a trip to Merlin knows where.

He was glad to know the man took advantage of the working potion, but he also had a greater chance of being killed every time he left.

After leaving the quill inside the inkpot, he rose from his seated position on his green rug and walked towards the door. He formed his scowl and opened the door. A shivering girl, with her arms around her body was waiting in his office. The messy brown hair was unmistakable.

The young witch looked at him as soon as she noticed the door opening, and with tentative steps, came near him. In the small amount of light filtering into that room, he could make out how pale she was, how her eyes looked red and puffy like she had been crying.

"Miss Granger? What are you doing here? It's past curfew."

Her response was to come closer. She wasn't well. But why seek him? It was risky to come here to the dungeons.

"I-I didn't know where to go..." She looked defenseless, lost, and alone.

Closing his eyes, he let a tired breath escape his lungs and opened the door fully, silently offering her entrance to his quarters.

A tiny hint of surprise crossed her face at his gesture, but her steps didn't hesitate as she entered. She looked around, taking in her environment.

He closed the door behind him and noticed where her eyes focused. She was so predictable. Her eyes were focused on his shelves.

"Sit down," he said, breaking her enchantment with the books.

The young witch nodded and walked around the small space, avoiding his work scattered around the table and the rug. She sat on the black sofa in front of the fireplace.

He was glad she hadn't touched his notes.

"I'm sorry... It seems I interrupted."

"It's just my classroom notes." He closed the books and piled them on the table. He sat his parchment on top of them and placed the brown quill she'd given him to the side. When he finished, he sat in the green winged chair across from her.

She kept her arms locked around her as if she were cold. He knew the signs of a broken person, and the woman before him was definitely one. He didn't know how to help her with that, and even if he did, he wouldn't know why she was in such a state.

She kept silent, paralyzed, and he didn't know if his presence eased her.

"If you are not comfortable you could go to McGonagall. I'm sure she would be glad to help you despite the hour." He wanted to let her know that she could stay if she wanted, but also that the option to leave was there.

Granger looked at him and shivered before she looked back at the fireplace. At least that could warm her. "I trust you more. You understand me."

No one had told him that before. Not without a false voice. She just sought him for his support and his company. Because she trusted him that much. In that little time.

And he found himself trusting this girl too. More than he'd ever trusted anyone. Even Lily.

"What put you in this state, Miss Granger?" he asked, trying to encourage her to talk. In response, she sighed deeply and her muscles tensed. "If you need to talk about it. I can offer an ear to listen, and perhaps some advice if I am knowledgeable in what plagues you."

She looked at the small flames dancing in the fireplace. "I'm having nightmares."

His back tensed and he let his black eyes show concern for her. He could understand it perfectly; he had suffered with them ever since his first kill.

"With time, they will ease," he said, his voice barely above a whisper but still loud enough for her to hear.

"But they will never go away, right?" Her voice sounded as if she lacked energy.

"No, they won't go away." He wouldn't lie to her with some idyllic dream. Experiences could be healed, but most of the people never forgot them without some assistance. And usually that assistance was some chemical dependency of some kind or some other damaging methods.

"Do you have them too?"

He closed his eyes at her soft voice and sighed, letting his backrest against the chair.

Though he wasn't uncomfortable with the conversation, it did feel foreign. He'd never had anyone to talk to these things seriously with.

"Yes." His reply was weak as he tried not to remember the numerous times he relived his discovery of Lily's corpse or heard the screams of people who were tortured to death.

"I take some solace in the nightmares."

She looked at him confused. "Solace?"

"If I didn't have nightmares about them, it means I'd be a monster like the Dark Lord."

"I...I see. That makes sense."

Her robes rustled but he didn't look at what she was doing. He was ashamed to be open with someone again. It was easier when she just looked in the pensieve instead of asking him directly.

He was surprised that she didn't press him more for details. Instead, she walked around him, looking at his books, and ignoring him. Apparently, she understood his ways with situations like this as well. He was a private man, lacked advanced social skills, and liked his quiet and solitary life.

The hands on his shoulders startled him. She was a brave woman for touching him.

"Maybe one day, we can tell each other about these torments, but I'm glad you trust me as much as I do you."

He stood, leaving the winged chair and letting her hands fall on it. He walked towards the fireplace and rested a hand on the green curtain that covered it at the sides.

"It's an option I could concede," he finally answered, not moving any inch of his posture. "For now, I could give you a dreamless sleep potion if you desire."

He didn't look back at her even when the rustle of clothes came back to his ears. The flames were soothing him as they sparked in front of his eyes.

"I feel better. Your company helped a bit."

It was odd to hear that considering they didn't engage in much of a talk, and all this time he thought Granger was more of a talker. Someone that didn't relish in silence like him. It turned out he was wrong.

"You still need your sleep, Miss Granger. You have classes tomorrow. I advise you to take it when you leave."

His words mutated her relaxed face into a worried frown with tensed cheeks and neck muscles.

She took a shaky breath and nodded.

He walked into his bedroom, went to his private potions cabinet, and searched around the numerous sections until he found the potion he wanted. He picked it up and walked back to the living room.

When he reached her side, he extended his arm, offering her the blue potion. She looked at it, then to his eyes. A mixture of gratefulness and worry crossed her features.

"You won't become dependent on it if you use small doses sparingly," he said, knowing that she would be cautious enough. "I assume you know the dosages."

"Yes, but..." Her voice broke, and she lowered her head.

"But you don't want to depend on it," he said. "I know, but you need it. At least, today." He spoke with a stronger voice, not giving her the option to reject it. She was too disturbed and affected. The need to come down there, seeking his support, was enough reason to have it.

He knew she wanted to object even more, and he fully expected her to, but instead she took the vial.

Pain shot through his nerves, and his fingers went numb. He was glad he'd handed the vial to Granger when he had. By habit, he reached up and closed his hand around the mark, trying to sooth the pain.

His dark mark was burning.

And it was an inopportune moment. He wasn't alone and this witch wasn't stupid. Trying to maintain his neutral facade, he took a deep breath and removed his hand from the mark, feeling the intensity of the pain increasing with the action.

Her eyes were on him, studying him as intensely as she studied her books. She wasn't fooled for a moment.

"He's calling you, isn't he?" she whispered with a hint of worry in her voice. "Go, Professor. Y-you need to before you get in trouble."

He was surprised at how calm she took his summoning, and how there wasn't a hint of disgust in her voice at the thought. For the first time since being summoned while speaking with someone, he felt more human and less like a tool. She gave no pity, just understanding.

Without responding, he went back to his bedroom to retrieve his Death Eater's robes and his mask. He walked back into his living room and noticed she was looking at him with worried eyes.

He donned the robes and glanced back at her. Her eyes were shiny as if she were trying to suppress tears.

"Go back to your room. This will take a long time," he said before he put on his mask. She was one of the few people outside the Death Eaters who knew the design of his mask. Perhaps it would help her if she ever needed to recognize him when he wore it.

The witch offered him a small encouraging smile before her form disappeared and his body morphed and travelled to where he was summoned.

AN: One of my favourite chapters here. Or better said...the beginning of some successive chapters that are my favourite LOL. Let me know what you think. I know they are more and more building their trust with tentative steps and hope you like it. I appreciate all your words and it makes me happy to know that this story is being liked. Thank you for your support. Always. :* See u next week!