It's raining outside.

It's the first thing he notices when he wakes, wrenched from his light slumber with a scream having just left his lips. He knows it's futile to try and stop it. It's been six months since the War ended, but he still can't shake the nightmares that plague him every time he shuts his eyes. Sometimes he dreams of the time he was petrified in second year, a pair of orange, orb like eyes staring at him from the darkness leaving him trapped. Other times he dreams of the battle, alone in the castle, cut off from all the fighting, unable to reach his friends fighting on the other side of the courtyard, whilst he's left to watch them die over and over. Yet, whilst the dreams are sometimes different, waking is always the same; his skin drenched in cold sweat, lungs feeling as if they're on fire as though he's just run a marathon and the taste of salty tears on his lips. Tonight is no different.

Gulping down air, he takes ragged breaths and clambers out of his twisted covers to stand on the cold, wooden floor of the bedroom. It takes him a moment to familiarise himself with the unfamiliar room he finds himself in, before he remembers. He's not in the comfort of his own home anymore, where his screams and nightmares aren't heard and a hoard of Muggle drugs help him to quieten the darker nights. He's at Susan's, and right now, he honestly can't remember why he decided to accept her invitation to stay.

The door opens and he flinches involuntarily at the sound, knowing now that he's woken her. He looks down at the floor, clenching and unclenching his fists before he feels a light, warm touch on his arm. "Justin? I heard-" Susan stops and shakes her head. "Are you okay?"

Of course the question is silly, he knows that she knows he's not 'okay'. Exhaling slowly, he turns around to face her fully, his blonde curls matted with sweat and his dark brown eyes circled with purple, bruise like marks. He knows he looks bad. She, on the other hand, looks almost angelic. Her auburn hair is tied neatly into a plait, and for a moment he finds himself wondering what she'd look like with her hair down and dishevelled.

"You heard." He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. It's not a question but a statement, and he sees her nod slowly in reply, her hand still resting on his arm.

"What happened?" Her voice is soft, almost at the level of a whisper despite the fact that it's just the two of them in her flat. The space seems almost too big, unnecessarily big when he feels so tight and trapped in his own skin.

"I just get nightmares. Sorry if I woke you." He replies, shrugging and moving his arm away from her touch as gently as he can. He doesn't look at her anymore, instead moving his gaze to fix itself resolutely above her head, which isn't hard considering he's nearly a foot taller than her.

"You're not." Susan's voice is slightly louder now, the worry and concern etched clearly in her tone of voice. He feels the touch of her hand on his, and this time, he takes it and moves his gaze back onto her as she continues to talk. "You woke me with your screams and you look like you haven't slept properly in weeks. I've known you long enough to know when you're lying J."

The use of his old nickname and the way she interlaces her fingers with his as she says it makes him stop for a moment, the space between them now millimetres apart. He lets out a shaky breath and bites his lower lip. For a moment, he gets the wild urge to kiss her but that would be neither the right moment or time for such level of affection. Instead, he squeezes her hand and attempts to explain.

"It's been months since-" he pauses to clear his throat, his voice cracking from the scream that left it sore and croaky, "since the battle, but I can't sleep. I keep having nightmares about all sorts of things. It's horrible...and then I wake up screaming." He can feel warm tears now sliding down his cheeks, but he doesn't care. Instead, this confession to Susan more than anything has given him the strength to continue. "I've been, uh, self-medicating. Muggle drugs to try and help me sleep, but nothing's been working." His voice is wobbly now, and he moves to sit back down on the bed, pushing aside the crumpled covers so Susan can join him. "I've been so stupid, but I'm scared. No-one prepares you for what happens after. All that stuff in the DA, all the things that Neville said about Harry and protecting the Castle..."

And suddenly Susan's there with her arms wrapped around him whilst he sobs into her shoulder. "You're not the only one. So many people fought in that battle, we all suffered and we've all changed." She presses a light kiss to his temple. "We've all been so worried about you Justin. Ernie, Hannah, Wayne, Merlin even Zacharias's noticed."

"I'm sorry Susan, I'm so sorry. I should have told you-"

But she cuts him off now, breaking the hug and placing a hand on either side of his face to look him squarely in the eyes, their noses almost touching. "You've told me now and that's all that matters. We're friends, remember? Friends don't leave each other behind."

He nods, eyes downcast, thinking how stupid he'd been. How easy it would be now to kiss her, but he doesn't. He respects her more than that, as a friend and a comrade in arms. Instead, he presses a chaste kiss to her forehead before moving to rest on of his hands on top of hers. He remembers that the others don't know, that he's been trying to hide this for so long, the self-medication, the insomnia, the dark and lonely nights that he forgot what it was like to come clean about your problems to someone you cared about.

Simply put, he'd forgotten that he could have confided in his friends no matter what. They stay like that, his hand covering hers, resting forehead to forehead for what seems like an eternity.

"Thank you, for understanding, I mean."

She smiles gently at him, now shuffling further back and lowering her hands back to her sides. "What're friends for? Now try get some rest. I'll talk to you more in the morning in you want."

Then just like that, with a short patter of footsteps and a click of the door shutting behind her, she's gone. Justin finally feels himself falling slowly back to sleep, and for the rest of the night, the first time in sixth months, no images come to haunt him.

-:-

A/N: This was for the HPFC 'Wand Wood' challenge. This one-shot was based around Alder wood ('helpful, considerate and likeable') which you either had to write about a Hufflepuff or an unlikely pairing. I sort of chose both? Anyway, enjoy!