Harry woke up with a start, gasping for air, immediately feeling the cold sweat drenching the sheets below him. His heart was racing faster than he could process at the moment, beating loudly in his ears. He stared into the darkness momentarily, aware that his eyes would not adjust, before bringing both his hands to his face and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.
Four years.
It had been four years since You-Know-Wh… Voldemort's death, destruction, and the nightmares haven't been getting better. Every time he shut his eyes he was reminded of the blank look on Remus' face, Tonks without any of her wondrous configurations, Fred's glassy eyes, dead for longer than he could bare to look.
His stomach lurched and he bit down to keep from gagging. The last thing he needed was to make himself sick. Once the sensation passed, he took a deep breath and looked to his side, hopeful that his movements hadn't woken Ginny.
He smiled weakly. Despite his horrid sight, he could plainly make out her sleeping figure, her hair lying in a halo around her pillow. He knew she'll complain about bed hair in the morning, but at the moment it was angelic. He reached over and brushed a lock of auburn from her face, earning a semi-conscious hum from his girlfriend.
"Nightmare?" She asked quietly, her voice drowning in fatigue.
"Yeah…" He replied hesitantly, possessing no desire to wake her for his own need.
"C'mere, Love." She requested softly, lifting her arm just enough for Harry to slide under, resting his head on her bosom. She silently brought her hand down, playing lazily with his hair. He sighed contently and closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift with Ginny, peacefully back to sleep.