"The road to Hell is paved with good intentions" - Unknown

Harry gasped, panting, and looked in the bathroom mirror at his own sweating face. The scar was standing out on his forehead, bright red and angry.

"Harry?" Ginny asked, knocking on the door. "Harry, are you all right?"

"Go away, Ginny!" Harry shouted. He fell to his knees, banging his chin on the edge of the porcelain sink and knocking out a tooth.

It had happened again.

He kept having these strange dreams at night - faces he thought he would never have to see again, taunting him as he tried to escape, trapped in his own mind.

It was always the same faces.

Dumbledore.

Sirius.

Dobby.

Fred.

Remus.

Tonks.

Hedwig.

Snape.

Colin.

Mum.

Dad.

And in the center, looming over them all, was Voldemort.

"What have you done, Harry?" he would say. "Why did you let them die for you?"

"I didn't want them to!" Harry would moan. "I didn't mean . . . I didn't want . . . "

Voldemort would smile; a cold, cruel, mirthless smile.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry had this dream night after night. Just as Voldemort said those dreaded words, he would wake up in a cold sweat.

Heart pounding.

Breath quickening.

Scar burning.

He didn't understand why the dreams were causing his scar to burn. Voldemort was dead, no point denying it. He could never come back.

But he lived on in Harry's mind; taunting him, torturing him, never letting him escape.

"Daddy?" There was a knock on the door, a timid little voice, and Harry forgot his troubles for a moment. "Daddy, are you all right?"

He opened the door and swept his two-year-old daughter, Lily, up into his arms and burying his face in her long red hair.

"Daddy's fine, sweetheart," he murmured, "Just a bad dream. It's all fine,"

Lily didn't look convinced, but seeing the look on her father's face, decided not to persist.

"OK, Daddy," she said. "I love you," she added.

Harry smiled down at Lily, placing her back on the ground. "I love you too, Lily, darling," he said. "Go back to sleep now, love."

He turned back to his bedroom, when Lily asked, "Was it about the man with no nose?"

Harry stopped short. "S - sorry?" he asked.

"Your dream," said Lily. "Was it about the scary man with no nose? The one who killed Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle Fred?"

Harry leaned his forehead against the wall, not sure how to reply. In the end he said, "Go to bed, Lily."

"But Daddy - "

"Lily Luna Potter, go to bed RIGHT NOW!" Harry screamed, turning to face her. Lily gave him a look of absolute terror, before turning and fleeing into her bedroom. She slammed the door behind her.

"What was that?!" he heard his son, James Potter, ask.

"I think it was Dad!" replied his other son, Albus.

Harry put his head in his hands and began to sob silently. "Oh, God, I need help," he thought. Here he was, a man who had sworn to raise his children right after his own unfortunate upbringing, screaming at his infant child for no good reason.

An arm snaked around his waist. Harry looked up and saw his wife, Ginny, standing with her arm around him.

"Gin," he choked out, "I can't stop thinking about it. It's been taunting me for months now,"

"What has?" Ginny asked.

"I - I keep seeing their faces," he said, "The people who were lost - because of me. And there's Voldemort, standing there, telling me that it's all my fault that they're dead."

"Harry, that's crap and you know it!" said Ginny fiercely. "If it's anyone's fault, it's his! He's the one who killed them! You shouldn't feel guilty at all, Harry. It's not your fault. None of it was."

"Still . . ." said Harry. "I can't help but feel like it is. And Ginny . . . it's driving me mad. I'm not myself anymore. You saw me, yelling at Lily. I've never done that before, to any of our kids."

He rested his head on Ginny's shoulder, putting his arms around her.

"I need help, Ginny," he whispered.

"I know," she whispered back. "And you'll get it. Trust me."