It was dark. And cold. And Harry recognized the graveyard around him and the grave he was attached to. He struggled to get out of the statue's grip, but it was no use. The more he struggled the tighter the grip around him became, but he couldn't just give up.

Suddenly, a face was above him, Cedric's face. Scared and terrified. "Harry, you have to get out, you have to help me," Cedric's voice pleaded.

"I can't!" Harry yelled, as he struggled harder, making himself bleed with how hard he was pulling against the bonds.

His parents were in front of him now. Almost see-through, wearing blank expressions. Harry found it hard to focus on them. "Come on Harry, you can get out of this, you fought a dragon, you can do this."

"No! I can't! I just can't!" Harry screamed back, and he couldn't tell if it was blood or tears in his eyes.

"Of course you can't," Voldemort's voice echoed around him, accompanied by a painful throb in his forehead. Harry could feel his disgusting finger on his scar, making the pain increase. The pressure built and built as Harry kept hoping he would move his finger away, hoping someone could relieve him of the pain.

Harry screamed as he shot up into a sitting position in his bed. His blankets were tangled around his legs, the pillow damp from his sweat, and he was panting for breath. He heard Uncle Vernon's angry shout at him to quiet down because some people were trying to bloody sleep. And he heard the thunk of, what he assumed was, Dudley's new high tech alarm clock as he threw it against their adjoining wall.

He knew he was breathing too fast, all the sounds seemed to be coming from far away, as if through a long tunnel. His hands were clenching at his hair, pulling to use that pain to distract from the pain in his head. An owl hooted from far away. Dimly, Harry registered the sound of his bedroom door opening, but ignored it in the hope whoever was at the door will ignore him.

A voice was talking quietly from far away, but Harry pulled harder on his hair, and the heavy sound of this breathing made is hard to hear anything anyway. He can still feel the cold horrible finger on his head and hear the echo of a high snake-like voice. He closed his eyes tight in the hope that it all will just go away.

Suddenly there was a weight on Harry's legs. Hands, gentle warm hands, are prying Harry's fingers from his hair. A voice, soft and soothing, is speaking to him in hushed tones. Harry let his hands be lead away from his hair and into his lap, where his fisted them tightly into the t-shirt he's wearing. The warm hands come back and cup Harry's face and he opened his eyes.

Dick Grayson's bright blue eyes were staring into his ow. Dick's lips were moving, Harry attempted to focus on the words coming out of his mouth.

"You're safe, Harry. It's alright now. Just breath. Harry, you are okay. Breath, Harry. It's safe here. You are all right." Harry absently wondered how long Dick has been talking, but he took a slow deep breath, and Dick's encouragements continue, praising Harry for his renewed effort in breathing and continuing to remind him of where he was. Dick's thumbs were stroking over Harry's cheeks in a comfortingly repetitive motion.

Harry wasn't sure how long they were like that, with Dick balanced over his legs and helping him calm down. Eventually, Harry's breathing is regular and his hands loosen from the death grip on his t-shirt. Dick's words trailed off, and his thumbs stilled.

"You okay?" Dick asked seriously, and Harry felt himself laugh a little because clearly he was not okay. Okay people didn't wake up screaming. Okay people didn't need to be talked into breathing right. Clearly he was not okay. Dick smiled, like he understood what Harry was thinking.

"Yeah it's a stupid question, huh?" Dick answered his own question with a soft smile. "Wanna talk about it?" Dick asked. Harry shook his head, and was thankful that Dick let it drop. He gave a final pat to Harry's cheeks before making his way off the bed. He turned back to Harry with his hand out. "Come on, get up."

Harry looked at him in confusion without moving. He suddenly felt a wave of tiredness creep up on him now that he was calm, and moving didn't seem like a good idea. "What?"

Dick put his outstretched hand on Harry's shoulder. "You don't want to stay in that c'mon." Harry realized that in his sleep he had sweated through his PJs, making them and his sheets damp.

"Yeah, I'll just change my sheets and stuff," Harry said as he untangled his legs from the sheets.

"Don't be ridiculous," Dick scoffed, pulling Harry up. "It's late, that will take time. Why don't you just change and come to my room?"

Harry was a bit unsteady on his feet and leaned into Dick's hand. "Where will you sleep?"

"That bed's a queen, we'll both fit," Dick answered, shrugging easily. He reached down to Harry's trunk, which was still packed on the floor, to grab Harry a change of clothes. Harry, still tired and unsteady, didn't react in time to stop Dick from opening it. Harry couldn't remember if anything incriminating was on top, so he woke up enough to realize that he should probably not let a muggle go through his stuff.

"I can do that," he hurried to say as he knelt in front of his trunk. Dick got up without a fuss and Harry assumed he hadn't seen anything strange since he didn't ask.

"Awesome, why don't you go into the bathroom and wash up, I'll strip your bed. We can wash the stuff in the morning," Dick suggested, as he got to work. Harry nodded, sifted quickly through the mess in his trunk, and grabbed his stuff. Shutting his trunk carefully, Harry made his way out of his room. He opened the door cautiously, listening to make sure no Dursleys were awake, and made his way to the bathroom. Quickly Stripping out of his damp clothes, Harry changed fast into another one of his oversize t-shirts and baggy pants, courtesy of Dudley.

Harry grabbed a washcloth and got it wet in the sink. Wringing out the excess water, Harry looked into the mirror. The bags under his eyes were just as pronounced as they were earlier. He didn't even know how long he had slept. It must have been really late, or really early. He couldn't believe Dick got up to help him. It was so weird.

Remembering the washcloth, Harry quickly towelled off his face and behind his neck. He put it on a drying rack to deal with later and balled up his old clothes to head back to his room. Tiptoeing through the hall to avoid the Dursleys again, he made his way back to his room, where he heard Dick's voice quietly through the door.

"I think he'll be okay, girl," Came Dick's voice. "He just needs some help, that's all."

Curious, and not awake enough to even guess at what was happening, Harry opened the door softly. Dick turned around at his entrance and smiled, but his hand was still stroking over Hedwig's feathers. She looked content under his fingers, and would probably be purring if she could.

"I think she was worried about you," Dick whispered. "She a good bird. What's her name?"

"Hedwig," Harry said. She didn't normally like strangers, and Harry had never seen her ever like a muggle.

"That's a nice name," Dick answered. He picked up her cage in one hand and gestured for Harry to come with him with the other. "She should come too. I think she'd like that."

Dick left the room without giving Harry time to agree or disagree, leaving Harry with nothing to do but follow. Sneaking back to the hallway, he made it to the guest room, Dick's room, without any trouble.

The guest room was a strange place for Harry. He hadn't really even been in except to make up the bed or do some vacuuming. The only person who had ever stayed there, besides Dick, was Marge, or Aunt Marge as Harry was forced to call her, despite not being related. Harry was reminded that Marge, a horrible woman who cared about her dogs more than Harry, was actually related to Dick. He wasn't sure how Dick, who helped him through a nightmare, could even be thought of being related to a woman who had let her dog chase him up a tree. Harry couldn't wrap his head around it.

This room, despite not having a permanent occupant, looked much more lived in then Harry's. Dick had put up some pictures on the nightstand of people that he assumed were the family Dick had. There was a framed poster on the wall, a brightly colored thing describing the flying Graysons, that Harry was positive that was Dick's, and that the Dursley's would not approve of. It seemed like Dick was living out of a suitcase still, not wanting to seem too homey.

Dick had placed Hedwig's cage on the dresser, and the owl gave Harry a piercing look that reminded him how intelligent she was. She seemed content with what she saw, since she put her head under her wing to go back to sleep.

Dick was on the side of the bed furthest from Harry, and patted the other side. "Come on, you need more sleep."

Harry caught sight of the bedside clock and saw it was 3:30 am. Making his way over, Harry thought about how weird it was that Dick woke up at such an ungodly hour to help him. Looking at the clock had reminded him how tired he was. Sliding into the bed, with its thick covers, Harry barely mumbled out a thank you before he fell asleep again.