And… and there was a voice. It's horrible," he said, a small furrow appearing in his brow. "It was all around me. It was angry… it wanted to kill me."
"Nightmares can often be that way. Horrible, yet inexplicable," Snape said. "I can assure you there is no body else here."
"But I…" Harry began.
The potions master watched him, waiting for him to finish the sentence.
And Harry almost did – almost opened his mouth and let everything that he had been experiencing over the last few months spill out.
But he was tired… drained. And it was just a nightmare.
"Yes?" Snape urged.
He shook it off. "S'nothing. I'm sorry if I woke you."
"You did not."
"Is it Christmas yet?" the boy asked softly, rubbing his eyes.
"It is incredibly late on Christmas Eve," Snape told him, straightening the bed covers around him and pushing back the hair from his damp forehead. "And as such, there is still plenty of time for sleep."
"M'not tired," Harry told him, as he stifled a yawn.
His guardian arched a brow. "I beg to differ. Do you require a vial of Dreamless Sleep?"
Harry shook his head. "No thanks. But… could you… could you stay with me? Just for a bit?"
Snape inclined his head, encouraging him to lie back against the pillows and bringing the covers up beneath his chin, whilst Harry watched him silently.
"It just felt so real," he whispered, eventually.
"But it was not. And you are safe," the professor told him, gently removing the boy's glasses again and placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "As long as I am here, nothing will hurt you."
And Harry believed him.
As he lay there, he silently scolded himself for ever doubting the man – for ever listening to the house elf or even his friends, who didn't know his guardian like he did.
From now on, he decided, as he slowly drifted back to sleep, he would give Snape his complete trust. Because he had earned it.
The potions master remained sitting on the edge of the bed long after Harry had fallen back to sleep.