Summery: At 2:00am in the morning just after the night of the third task, Harry awakes from a nightmare in the hospital wing. Unable to sleep, he starts feeling alone in the world. Thank heavens for godfathers; Sirius comes to the emotional rescue. Oneshot. NOT slash.
Rated:T (just in case)
Disclaimers: I don't own any of Harry Potter (books or movies) and one day the Copyright Infringement police are going to arrest me so I suppose I'd better enjoy my non-paying, non-legal, non-evil scheme to write fan fiction as long as I can.
Feedback: Oh, how sweet of you to offer! Indeed, me and feedback are very close and I take all types: criticism, praise, flames, and even the occasional lol so bring it on!
By the by: There is no Slash content, sexual content, or bad language in this or any of my stories.
Note: You can understand this fic if you've only seen the movies but it makes more sense if you've read the books. And just to clarify, this takes place in the last chapter of Goblet of Fire.
Thanks, Snuffles
"Kill the spare."
"No! He didn't do anything, let him go!"
"Kill him."
"Avada Kedavra!"
"NO! Cedric! No… he's… no…no! he's dead! You killed him! How could you?!"
"I'll kill you, too, Harry Potter. You can't elude me forever, I'll find you. I'll kill whoever get's in my way. You know I will."
"No… No, you can't - I'll kill you! Do you hear me? I'll KILL YOU!"
"You can't. You are weak and everyone is going to die because of you. I'll kill you last, Harry Potter. I'll kill you last."
Harry sat up so fast, he was sure his glasses would fall off. Then he realized he wasn't wearing them. He could just make out the blurry shapes and flaming red colors of three people.
He reached over to the nightstand, feeling around on it till he found his glasses.
He shoved them on his face but the ability to see straight didn't take away from the fact the hospital wing was still very dimly lit.
Being able to see also failed to give him what he really wanted at that moment. Clarity in his head and someone to talk to. Someone he could explain the dream to, or someone who could explain it to him.
Harry looked around at the five sleeping people. Hermione was sitting in the rocking chair. Her head had fallen all the way to the right so it was resting in the ditch it had made on his bed. Her auburn hair was strewn ubiquitously across the sheets.
Ron was leaning against the left arm of the rocking chair, mumbling incoherently in his sleep about something having to do with the Chudley Cannons.
Harry could barely see Bill; he appeared to be sprawled on the floor with his too-long red hair over his face and his boot toes sticking comically up in the air.
Mrs. Weasley was in the rocking chair next to the other bed, her knitting hanging limply between her fingers and a look of troubled but sound sleep on her face.
Harry almost smiled as his eyes fell on the black dog lying with its head between its paws on the floor beside Ron.
He felt safe with them all here. Safe in the bed, the hospital wing, even in the whole castle. But his mind, his dreams and thoughts and memories… they were a different story. He couldn't fall asleep and let his nightmares wreak havoc on him. And he was sure he couldn't get back to sleep again anyway.
He let his feet slid out the right side of his bed so as not to disturb Hermione, though he narrowly escaped stepping on Bill's arm and he jumped slightly to avoid it.
The hospital was empty, quiet, and completely dark, save for the single lamp, lighting the little group by his now empty bed. He watched them for a moment and then wandered across the room to the other row of beds, lined against the wall in front of the windows.
He'd meant to just sit on one and stare out the window for a while but he kept walking. Down the aisle of beds and towards the door that led to Madam Pomphrey's bedroom. He halted but then, to right of it, saw another door that looked as though it hadn't been opened in some time.
Out of curiosity, he twisted the knob and it squeaked but turned easily. He opened it. Immediately, he felt a fresh, soft breeze on his face and heard leaves being pushed back as he pressed against the old door.
Harry found himself standing on small balcony, hardly bigger than one of the hospital beds, overlooking the forbidden forest. There was a little stone bench to one side which was covered on one side with vines. From where he stood, he could see a light on down at Hagrid's cabin and the moon reflecting off the lake.
There were a lot of stars tonight. He walked to the edge and leaned against the mettle railing the surrounded the little balcony, breathing deeply. The wind blew his hair and pajamas around soothingly.
Then he made the mistake of closing his eyes.
"Everyone is going to die because of you. I'll kill you last, Harry Potter. I'll kill you last."
"No -"
"All of them, Harry. They all love you and they'll die because of it."
"No, please!"
His knuckles grew white as he gripped the railing. He opened his eyes and saw the ground some fifteen feet below him swim crazily. Had he dropped his glasses? No, they were still there.
He leaned away a little, breathing heavily. He felt tears trailing down his face.
"Harry?"
Harry jumped, his hands tightening harder on the cold railing. He bit his lip and didn't turn round. "I… thought you were asleep."
He heard Sirius walk toward him and stop just a few feet behind. "No, I…don't sleep very much these days." There was a touch of humorless humor in his voice that Harry recognized from his own speech lately. "Though it looks like for once, I'm not alone in that." He still didn't answer. "What's bothering you, Harry? You know you can tell me."
He tried wiping the tears off his face but he knew from the burning in his eyes they were still visible so he still didn't turn. But he trusted his voice enough now to answer. "I've just been… thinking - I needed some air."
"Yes, I know the feeling. But thoughts that drag one out of bed and onto an old, rarely used, and not entirely stable balcony at two in the morning tend to be something more than ordinary musings. C'mon, Harry." he felt Sirius' hand on his shoulder and he tensed, not from nervousness, but from the odd feeling of having someone so close and so real. "Tell me."
"I -" He stopped, second guessing what he'd meant to say. "J-just a nightmare…" even without looking, Harry could see his godfather raise an eyebrow. "A…bad one. About what happened tonight… well, last night. With… with Cedric dying and everything."
"Ah. I see." There was a long silence before he spoke again. "Why don't we sit a moment?"
Harry felt the hand slide off his shoulder and for a moment, he wished it hadn't. He heard Sirius' footsteps moving toward where the little stone bench sat and then a rustle of clothing as he sat down. He was still nervous about turning around but perhaps it was dark enough for Sirius to not see the red around his eyes or the insistent tears still relentlessly making their way down his face.
The moment he turned, he knew his hopes were in vain. Sirius' brow creased and concern showed on his face in the now brighter-than-ever moonlight.
Harry sat down next to him, staring straight ahead as if he could fix it. After another pause, Sirius spoke again. "So what was the dream?"
"I… I was in the graveyard again…with Pettigrew and… Voldemort." He waited for the inevitable flinch or panicked reprimand but Sirius conferred neither so he pressed on. "We - me and Cedric - we were standing in the graveyard and Voldemort told Pettigrew to… to kill him. And he did and Cedric just sort of… gasped and fell down…" He stopped, his voice catching in his throat. He coughed, glancing momentarily at Sirius who was watching him raptly. "He was dead…. Just…his eyes were open and he just looked so - shocked. He hadn't been expecting it."
The tears were back. What was wrong with him that he suddenly could keep a handle on his emotions? He looked at Sirius again almost pleadingly. He didn't know what he was pleading for; he just needed to make sense of it. "It wasn't fair! He wasn't supposed to die! He was supposed to be a champion… he just wanted to make his father and his friends proud."
"He did," Sirius said softly. Harry realized his hand was on his shoulder again. He hadn't noticed till now.
"Voldemort called him "the spare". Cedric wasn't just a spare! He was special. He was so… well… noble. Like a hero. Voldemort just killed him because he was in the way, just like -" But there, he couldn't finish. He couldn't bring his voice to say it out loud.
He had a feeling Sirius knew without him saying "my Mum and Dad". The hand on his shoulder tightened and when Sirius spoke next, there was a quiver to his own voice. "Cedric didn't die in vain…neither did your parents, Harry."
"They did. It didn't mean anything and it was all my fault."
Suddenly, Sirius swung Harry around to face him and landed his other hand on Harry's right shoulder, looking him hard in the face. "Don't ever say that, Harry, don't even think it."
"But it was my fault!" More tears seemed startled out of their hiding places and Harry didn't have the responsiveness to wipe them away. "Mum and Dad and Cedric… they wouldn't have died if it wasn't for me -"
"Now, you listen to me. The fault goes to Voldemort and him alone. There was nothing you could have done, save never being born. And if you'd never been born, you'd have cost this world someone brave, strong, loyal, noble, Harry…. and irreplaceable." Harry bit his lip to hold the emotion back, meeting Sirius' gaze steadily. "And they did not die in vain. People are not how they die. They're how they lived. Lilly, James, and Cedric were great people who did great things. They shouldn't be remembered for the tragic way they died, but for the wonderful way the lived."
Harry nodded. His vision still swam but he felt the red of his face fade into pale calmness. "Sirius… how will I be remembered? Will I always be just The Boy Who Lived or… poor little Harry…."
Sirius let go of him and smiled. ""I think you'll be remembered as Harry Potter. The boy who really lived."
Harry smiled himself and it was such an odd sensation, like when the sun comes out while it raining. He looked out at the lake again, surprised at how bright it was tonight.
It was calm and peaceful here on the balcony, he almost let himself believe there was nothing to be afraid of. He closed his eyes slowly to the breeze. He shouldn't have. All the images he'd been pushing back came rushing onto him. The cauldron of acid blue potion, the lizard form of Voldemort, Wormtail bleeding and sobbing on the ground, Cedric's cold dead face, the Deatheaters laughing at his helplessness as he lay hurting on the ground, knowing it was all over.
It was like standing before a Dementor but different. He was aware of everything. So acutely aware of the sharp pain the fear, he was sure he was going to fall off the bench.
His eyes snapped open and he felt his nails digging into his palms and his head pounding and the panting was back with a vengeance. He felt more than saw Sirius took his face in both hand, forcing him to look at him.
"Harry? Harry! What's wrong?"
"N-nothing…" Oh yeah, like he's believing that, Harry thought. "It's just… been a long - a long night - I'll be alright…"
The images still flashed in front of him, mixing with the worry on Sirius' face. "Harry -"
"I'll be alright!" His voice shook and he stood up suddenly, walking back to the edge. He gripped the railing once more and waited for the sweat, shortness of breath and, most of all, the memories to subside.
He kicked himself as he felt the tears come back. He'd thought they'd gone for good but he couldn't think straight anymore and didn't have enough energy to push them away. The wind felt suddenly so cold and threatening. When is it going to end? he thought numbly. Would it ever end? Would he ever sleep or laugh or have peace again? Everything was so twisted; misshapen, mutated and poisoned.
It was all too much.
"Harry."
Sirius was beside him. He looked up at once this time, no longer determined to hide. He was still afraid to talk but he didn't need to.
Sirius took one look at his face and seemed to read his mind and his heart, like knowing Harry's father had put a link between the two of them. He pulled Harry into an embrace, both arms protectively around him. It felt so firm and safe.
The world disappeared for a second. The memories left his head. For just a moment, he didn't feel. But it wasn't a numb feeling as before.
It was like relief.
He felt himself shake slowly and he knew he was crying but he didn't hear anything. It was just a silent cry that didn't last long but seemed to flush out so many bottled up feelings.
The hurt, the fear, the guilt and the trembling.
After a while, Sirius stepped back and held Harry at arms length, leaning down to look him in the face. "It's going to get better, Harry. You will be alright."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I know everything." he smiled. "And because you're strong. You'll hold your own against anything." Harry nodded. Till now, he hadn't realized how much he'd needed to hear it. There was a long pause. The calm and silence seemed to clear his head a little and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He felt like he was erasing a chalkboard; clearing it off so he could start over.
The silence after a storm.
The calm after the war.
At long last, Sirius straightened up, the lightheartedness reentering his face. "Now then, you need to get your rest. As much as I hate to do it, it's my responsibility as your godfather to make sure you don't drop dead in your tracks on the way to breakfast tomorrow."
Harry smiled and followed him through the door. Just outside Madam Pomphrey's bedroom door, he transformed back into a dog and padded behind Harry back to his bed.
Harry stepped cautiously back over Bill (who was now lying flat on his face) and slid between the sheets. He laid his head into the crater he'd left on his pillow what seemed like hours ago, and stared at the ceiling.
Suddenly, he felt the foot of the bed sink down on one side. He looked up. Sirius-the-dog walked in three small circles and flopped down with a sigh.
He pretended to snore but Harry knew he wasn't sleeping. If anything came into that hospital wing, he had a feeling his godfather would hex first and ask questions after.
Smiling to himself, he flopped down again, staring into space. "Thanks Snuffles." he heard himself whisper. He let his eyes fall shut. This time, no memories came back. For tonight, for a moment…it was peaceful.
With Ron and Hermione on the left, Mrs. Weasley and Bill on the right, and Sirius by his feet, Harry drifted off easily and no more dreams found him that night.
The End