Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
A/N: Thanks for all the uplifting reviews, guys. It means a lot.
Harry truged up the staircase to Gryffindor Tower. He was so tired that he could've slept in front of the portrait hole, but he knew that Ron and Hermione would want to know about his detention, as they always did, so he forced himself to mutter sleepily the password to the Fat Lady.
"Incorrect," she said simply.
"What do you mean, 'incorrect'?" Harry fumed.
"I mean, you are incorrect. You will have to wait for someone else to guess the right password."
Sitting down on the stairs, Harry groaned. He wished so fervently for his four poster in his dormitory, but he would have to wait. He stretched out in front of the portrait and fell asleep.
Harry was running down the third floor corridor, the one they had been forbidden to walk three years ago, in their first year. Something was chasing him, he didn't know what. Harry stopped, panting heavily, listening with all his might for the slightest sound.
He sat down, hoping to regain regular breathing before whatever it was found him. He heard footsteps; whirling around, Harry saw the most hideous figure of a man --if it was a man-- walking toward him.
"Harry Potter," it breathed in its high voice. "We meet once again."
"Get away from me!" Harry yelled, terrified. His scar was burning white hot, which could only mean one thing.
"Avada Kedavra!" the man yelled, and Harry saw a flash of green light and was gone.
He was rolling around on the floor, screaming his head off, while his scar prickled painfully. Harry had fallen down the staircase, and his arm seared with pain. He was sweating, and wanted nothing more than to empty his stomach right then and there, but someone was there, trying to say something, so he refrained.
"Harry, Harry, quiet," Hermione soothed. "It's all right, just calm down." She was dressed in her pink bath robe, and he couldn't help but wonder why anyone would wear anything like that.
"You gave us a real scare, mate," Ron said. "We thought you'd been attacked."
"I was, sort of," Harry said in a shaky voice, to recieve looks of utter shock from his two best friends. "I had this dream. Something was chasing me, and then it killed me."
"D'you know what it was, Harry?"
"I'm not sure, but it was evil, I know that. It used the Killing Curse."
At that moment, Professors McGonagall and Snape decided to run up to where they were, so Harry mouthed, "I'll tell you later," to Hermione and Ron, and they nodded.
"Mr. Potter, what happened?" McGonagall demanded, in a none too gentle voice.
"I fell," he said stupidly.
"I can see that, Potter. Why did you fall?"
"Because I lost my balance, Ma'am."
She sighed. "Please make sure you don't fall again, I don't need any more broken arms. Severus, would you kindly escort Mr. Potter to the hospital wing?" Without waiting for an answer, she said to Hermione and Ron, "You two will need to tell me exactly what you saw tonight."
"Well, come along, Potter, get up," Snape said briskly.
Halfway to the hospital wing, Snape said, "Why did you fall, Potter?"
"I dunno."
"You perfectly well do know, I think."
"I had to sleep outside 'cause I got the password wrong. I kind of fell down during my dream, Professor." Oh, he could not spill the beans to Snape. The one person he hated, aside from Malfoy and Voldemort, could not know why he hadn't been sleeping.
"Well, what sort of dream was it?"
But they had reached the hospital wing, and here Snape took his exit. Harry was very glad. He had been on the brink of having to tell his Potions teacher, and he couldn't let that happen.
"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked sharply.
"I broke my arm, Madam," he said. Man, why did everything he say tonight sound so dull-witted?
"What, at this hour? Well, never mind. Come on in, and I'll fix it in a jiffy."
He sat down on a bed, for the pain in his arm was quite blinding him, and his head felt extremely heavy on his shoulders. Madam Pomfrey bustled over, did a quick bone repairing charm, and said he'd better lay down; she could obviously tell he felt terrible.
Harry tried to sleep, but couldn't, and it wasn't because of his lightheadedness or his painful arm, or even his scar. No, the reason why he couldn't sleep lay in his own mind, and was the reason he was in the hospital wing in the first place.
He clambered out of the hospital wing early that morning, keen on getting something to eat before anyone could ask him why he didn't come back to Gryffindor Tower the previous night. He had been through enough already; he didn't need to lose his appetite.
About ten minutes after he sat down, Hermione and Ron came and grabbed breakfast. Sitting down on either side of him, they glared in the opposite direction of each other, which made Harry worried. He decided not to ask.
Classes were just as horrible that day, but for some reason, his teachers were all better about it that usual, and that was saying something. Even Snape was less aggrivating that afternoon during Potions, just waving his hand dismissively whenever Harry made a mistake, not making a big scene about how he put in his Gurdy Roots before his Turnip Juice, and just correcting it by a flick of his wand and muttering, "Read the directions more carefully, Potter."
Finally, at dinner, Harry got tired of his two best friends' attitudes. "What is with you guys?" he asked exasperatedly when Ron looked at Hermione with utmost contempt.
"Ronald," she said disgustedly, "spilled the beans last night."
"Ron, you didn't!" said Harry, aghast.
"I didn't mean to, Harry," he said, his voice now dripping with remorse. "She would've beaten it out of us sooner or later anyway. I'm sorry."
"I need to be alone," said Harry, who had had enough and had lost his appetite.
As he half ran, half walked back to his four poster bed to think, he distinctively heard Hermione saying, "Good job, Ron! Now he hates us!"
"No, he hates me." It pained Harry sharply to hear his best friend say something like this, but he didn't stop; instead, he walked even faster.
Back in his bed, he thought, Great. Now everyone knows about my nightmares and Ron thinks I hate him.
Ron: I don't hate Harry!
Jen: Of course you don't.
Harry: I don't hate Ron either.
Jen: It's all part of the story.
Hermione: Well, I'm very happy about how it all turned out.
Jen: Thank you, Hermione. -glares at Ron & Harry-
Harry: But I don't hate him! And how come you broke my arm?
Snape: Why was I nice to him?
Jen: Ignore these idiots and review, please.