[HP] Secret help

On the cheeks that were a little flushed by the heat from the air and the fireplace, there was a faint hint of drunkenness.

"Potter!" Snape looked furious. "Do I look like I'm telling you a joke?"

Harry moved closer to Snape, put his hands on the coffee table and looked at him: "Don't worry, professor, I can still distinguish between dreams and reality, and I won't kill myself in my dreams."

Snape said sternly, "Answer my question, Potter, and don't make me say it a second time."

"Oh well, what was the dream?" Harry blinked innocently and tried to think about it, "It was just some scary scenes, and some wanted things. I don't remember much, and you can't help it when you wake up." Remember your dream clearly, Professor?"

After answering Snape's questioning, Harry gradually understood his dreams. He dreamed of Snape because he was afraid of the incident when he rescued Snape in the screaming hut, and he was afraid that he would die because of disgust. Leaving the man in the cold broken house, he was afraid that Snape would have died at that time, so in the dream Snape really died, so Harry was forced to commit suicide by his magnified grief in the dream, and The remaining sanity turned into another Snape to hold Harry's hand and save him.

Harry didn't even think about it, but deep down in his heart he wanted to be saved, hoped that Snape would tear off his disguise and wrapping, and pull him out of the wet mire, just like the letter from the owl to Snape's house Harry hoped it would be read, but he didn't.

Harry knew that he had a mental problem, he lied, in fact, he couldn't distinguish dreams from reality when it was the worst.But he could clearly distinguish the pain, the scar across the chest in Snape's hand in the dream was once one of Harry's works, real dreams don't cause pain, Harry wakes himself up time and time again by this.

He wanted Snape to know this.Every cell, every look he cast, was calling for help with a small voice.

Harry seems to be used to this kind of patience, from the spider that got into his shoe in the cupboard, to the distrust of his companions and the pity of his enemies later, he doesn't often show his wounds in front of others—at least when he is sensible Won't.

You can live alone, and if you can come, it's not too bad.

While Harry was thinking, Snape didn't speak, they just sat quietly like this, with the "beeping" sound of charcoal crackling in the fireplace.

"You can't keep resisting me, Harry," said Snape slowly. "Unfortunately, I'm not omnipotent."

Harry blinked, "What did you just say?"

Snape frowned and said nothing.

Harry: "The previous sentence, what did you say I couldn't keep rejecting you?"

Snape frowned even more, looking like he was about to jump up and yell at Harry's nose.

Harry gestured to him: "You just called me Harry."

Snape was taken aback: "...what?"

"Call again." Before Snape could speak, Harry went on, "It's kind of a novelty to say my name from your mouth."

Snape looked like he was about to explode: "Is that all you can hear with your splendens-covered ears?!"

"Okay, okay, I was just joking."

Harry sighed, he paused for two seconds, and said in a very, very hesitant tone: "A lot of times I can't understand myself, maybe it's not against you. If you don't believe me, you can even read me brain, I believe you can't see anything useful in it."

Snape said dryly, "I'm not even a little bit interested in your barren brain."

Harry shrugged.

"But I still want to thank you, professor, at least those potions are useful, I won't be awake again..." Harry paused, "I have those hallucinations."

Snape nodded expressionlessly.

Harry slumped back on the sofa, pointed to his temples, let out a belched breath, and said, "When I just..., I went to see a Muggle doctor, he was a staunch materialist , and told me a lot of interesting things.”

"He said that my illness was due to the lack of some enzymes or acids in my body, where I was stimulated and where there was no response-hey, don't look at me with such eyes, as if I am some kind of idiot."

Snape said politely, "Go ahead."

"Then he said—" Harry thought of the doctor who also buttoned his clothes up to his throat. He flipped through Harry's test report and looked at him expressionlessly with pale eyeballs, "Like and Emotions are the same, it's just a certain hormone in the body..."

Harry raised his head to look at Snape, his pupils seemed to be sparkling, tiny and bright.

"—It's just an abnormal change."

Snape turned his head and said stiffly: "A Muggle whose worldview needs to be subverted."

"Yes." Harry said softly, "after all...the wizarding world is omnipotent."

"So you say you like him, Harry, to be honest, in fact, the clinical manifestations of liking and respect, gratitude, and happiness are similar." The doctor said plainly, "He has helped you and you have helped him. , You said he was very bad to you before, right? In an easy-to-understand way, have you ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome?"

Harry smiled helplessly: "Why do you always think I'm sick? Haven't you ever liked anyone?"

The doctor shrugged: "When I was in the ninth grade, I was a London girl with beautiful eyes. I was restless during puberty, and my hormone levels rose abnormally. We broke up after I got better."

"Okay, okay, let's talk about the illness?" Harry had to change the subject.

Harry laughed. "Maybe we're all very sick from his point of view."

Snape looked at him quietly: "Potter, you're drunk."

"Huh?" Harry's eyes widened in surprise, "How is it possible, it's just a glass—a small glass of wine."

Snape folded his arms and raised his eyebrows: "So?"

"So I feel, very consciously, that my body should be fine." Harry pointed to his head, "It's just that I can't control what it thinks and dreams, just like I can't control the singing in my head." One song is the same all day."

Snape was silent for a long time, drank the wine in his goblet in several sips, and then said slowly: "Potter, have you ever heard of the Sleeping Curse?"

No.12 glass beads

"Into me... what?" Harry's eyes widened slightly, and the word rolled out of his tongue vaguely, with an unnecessarily erotic undertone.

"Transfer Soul to Dream." Snape paused, "As the name suggests, it's a spell that allows me to enter that grotesque little head of yours and see what's there."

Harry didn't speak, with a strange expression on his face, he cleared his throat: "I think... this matter can be discussed in the long term."

"In that case, Potter." Snape folded his arms and looked at him nonchalantly. "I suppose we have something else to talk about, like...your shiny bauble?"

"Oh... my God Snape, can't you just rest?" Harry mused, clutching his forehead.

Snape raised his eyebrows: "Finally can't hold on to etiquette?"

Harry rubbed his nose hard, turning it red. After thinking for a while, he lowered his head and finally raised his eyes: "Then come in."

The boy muttered, probably just after a fierce ideological struggle, and his eye circles were reddened by himself. Harry made a compromise vaguely, as if it was a more intimate and deeper invitation.

Invite Snape into him.

"A wise decision." Snape praised insincerely, he paused, and continued, "There are some subtle differences and commonalities between teleportation and intuition, for example, you can use Occlumency to resist my attack Remembrance, you can still use it to protect the dreams you don't want me to see."

"While I don't expect you to remember our Occlumency lessons," Snape said, "clearing your mind before bed will keep you dreamless, but we don't need that now, and that's what Mr. It's time to flex your muscles."

Snape beckoned him, "Make your mind a mess before bed."

"What—?" Harry frowned.

Snape said lightly, "Just fall asleep as you usually do."

The old bastard was yelling at him, Harry thought resentfully, and he glared at Snape angrily: "Okay, I see."

A few hours later Harry thought he might be really drunk, and he slumped on the bed in a daze, admitting in disbelief that they had just had lunch and he couldn't keep his eyes open—Harry didn't I don't have the habit of taking a nap often.

When Snape stood beside his bed, using the pillow he always used to cuddle into a soft couch, Harry finally began to feel uneasy. It was all Snape's plan, and this time When he was about to succeed, Harry buried half of his face in the pillow, his emerald green eyes looming behind his narrowed eyelids and long, curly eyelashes. He took off the glasses, folded the temples and put them on the bedside table. When he turned around, his eyes were already closed.

The half-wrapped boy in the quilt let out a slightly heavy breathing sound, and his two petal-like soft lips opened slightly, like a silent invitation, inviting him to come in.

So Snape bent down and stopped in front of that young face for a few seconds, the boy's soft breath sprayed on the tip of his nose, Snape watched silently for a while, and finally kissed gently with the back of his index finger kiss him.

It takes time to dream