One minute, Severus is sound asleep, after what had felt like hours of struggling to get to sleep (for sleep wasn't something that came easily to him). The next, he jerks awake with a start at the sound of screaming piercing through the silence in his dark, dreary house.
He's disoriented at first as he frantically shoves himself up into a sitting position, the screaming reminding him of-- of things in his past. Horrible things.
Granger, he suddenly realises through the fog still distorting his thoughts. It's Granger screaming.
Throwing the blankets back, untangling himself from them, he snatches his wand off the nightstand as he staggers to his feet, takes a few hurried steps, stops to stoop down and snatch up his pyjama bottoms from the floor.
Granger, he thinks as he blindly steps one foot into a pyjama leg while making his way to the door. Granger, Granger, I'm coming, I'm coming. He hops on one foot while hurriedly stepping into the other pyjama leg, almost tripping over in the process. Tugging them up over his hips, he grabs the door handle and dashes out into the tiny landing, the wooden floor cold under his feet and the icy winter air hitting his bare arms and chest.
He bursts through the door to Granger's room (his old bedroom), wand at the ready, his hair sleep touselled and his tired, beady eyes wide with alarm.
"What? What is it?" he demands, sounding almost panicked. He takes in the scene: that hissing bastard of a cat in the corner, the candles alight and flickering soft but eerie shadows across the walls, the blankets in a heap on the floor, Granger huddled on the bed with her hands covering her face.
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He's disoriented at first as he frantically shoves himself up into a sitting position, the screaming reminding him of-- of things in his past. Horrible things.
Granger, he suddenly realises through the fog still distorting his thoughts. It's Granger screaming.
Throwing the blankets back, untangling himself from them, he snatches his wand off the nightstand as he staggers to his feet, takes a few hurried steps, stops to stoop down and snatch up his pyjama bottoms from the floor.
Granger, he thinks as he blindly steps one foot into a pyjama leg while making his way to the door. Granger, Granger, I'm coming, I'm coming. He hops on one foot while hurriedly stepping into the other pyjama leg, almost tripping over in the process. Tugging them up over his hips, he grabs the door handle and dashes out into the tiny landing, the wooden floor cold under his feet and the icy winter air hitting his bare arms and chest.
He bursts through the door to Granger's room (his old bedroom), wand at the ready, his hair sleep touselled and his tired, beady eyes wide with alarm.
"What? What is it?" he demands, sounding almost panicked. He takes in the scene: that hissing bastard of a cat in the corner, the candles alight and flickering soft but eerie shadows across the walls, the blankets in a heap on the floor, Granger huddled on the bed with her hands covering her face.
"What the bloody hell's going on?"