House: Hufflepuff
Position: Prefect 1
Category: Short (Add. Prefect entry)
Prompt: [Object] Blue Hair Ribbon
Word count: 884
A/N: I'd like to point out that this is something I had no idea how to write. I have a terrible fear of sleep paralysis, so I worked my worst fear into here. . . I also went with something very vague. There is some symbolism in this . . . any guesses as to what it represents?
Notes: Sleep paralysis; mentions of death
"One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three . . . Sleep for me . . . One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three . . . Dream for me. . . One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three. . ."
The voice floated ever-so-softly over to Harry. He whimpered.
He wished he could squeeze his eyes shut, stick his fingers in his ears, anything he could do to stop himself from paying any attention to the woman sitting at the foot of the bed.
She scared him no matter how many times she told him she was friendly. She was always staring at him and, because she was sitting in the corner, had to bend down with her head cocked to the side in order to prevent herself from hitting her head.
She had frizzled blonde hair. Sometimes Harry wanted to reach out and touch it, but he wouldn't dare. Not when she always had this awful little smile on her face when she saw him.
But it was her eyes frightened Harry the most. They were a brilliant shade of silver, so bright that they shone in the dark of the cupboard.
She nudged Harry's foot with a finger. He tried to curl away from her, but he couldn't seem to gain control over any of his muscles.
He watched as she moved over to him. His eyes followed her every movement, every twitch of her finger. Her limbs jerked a little every time she used them. She leaned right over him, that smile on her face, her eyes bright and never moving. She peered at Harry, seeming to study him for what could've been hours. Their noses were centimeters away.
He could smell her. It was a sickly-sweet scent of strawberries that made him dizzy. One hand came up from where she'd been bracing herself on the floor beside him and brushed the fringe out of his eyes. There was a blue hair ribbon tied on her wrist, unravelling a bit so the threads trailed over his face. Harry's lip quivered.
"Sleep for me, dream for me, I will love you, you will love me . . ."
Her breathing was hardly noticeable. She leaned closer still, so close that her lips brushed his forehead before she moved away. Her feet caught on the blankets and tugged them off of Harry as she went back to whatever hole she came from.
A sharp knock jerked Harry upright in bed, causing him to hit his head on the ceiling.
"Get up, boy!" Petunia screeched.
Harry got up. He didn't look back, too afraid to check if the woman was still there.
~xXx~
Harry sighed and rubbed his face tiredly. He leaned his chin on his elbow and peered at the woman across from him. Her name was Astoria, but Harry was actually supposed to call her Dr. Greengrass because she was his therapist. At first, he was extremely wary to have her, but she turned out to be very good at her job.
"So . . . what are you saying?" he asked.
"It's likely that you've dealt with sleep paralysis your entire life," Astoria replied.
Harry shrugged. He felt so tired.
"Is there a way to . . . deal with it?" he asked.
"I'm sorry to say that the only way to deal with it is to go to a Healer who specializes in this area," Astoria said, frowning.
"And you can be sure that this Healer will help?" Harry asked sharply.
He wasn't exactly a fan of Healers, not after Ginny had died during childbirth and the people who were supposed to help her didn't do a thing. Albus had survived, but it wasn't the same to raise two kids without his loving wife beside him.
"I can recommend you to my sister. She and I can collaborate on this, if you'd like," Astoria said, smiling slightly.
"I think . . . I think that'd be best," Harry said softly.
Astoria's smile grew.
"Okay."
~xXx~
The bed dipped slightly beside Harry. He tried to feel out for the small child most likely laying next to him, but his arm wouldn't cooperate. His eyes felt as though they were forced open against his own will.
He sighed internally and tried not to look at the woman next to him.
She stroked his hair. Her nails scraped the side of his face, dangerously close to his eye, and she gently dug her nails into his skin. He swallowed.
"Harry . . ." she whispered.
The covers moved as she slipped under them, laying her head on the pillow where Ginny used to sleep. Harry wanted to reach out, yell at the woman, push her off of Ginny's side of the bed. But he couldn't.
"Go to sleep, it's late," she breathed, snuggling against Harry.
Her legs were warm, her nightgown was soft. She still smelled like strawberries after all these years, but the smell had faded into something more pleasant than it had been when he was a child. He hand rested between them, ribbon still on her wrist, as she closed her eyes and her breathing evened out.
Harry didn't sleep for a long time, didn't even move. Somewhere along the way, his eyes closed and he drifted unconscious.
There was a blue ribbon on Harry's pillow when he woke up in the morning. He burned it later that day.