I would just like to thank you all who have reviewed, favourited and/or followed this story. I'm actually surprised that it has gotten so much love - but I hope that I will continue to earn it.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Harry Potter or Suicide Squad.

Enjoy!

Nightmares

Two days before Mister J's return, she had entered Harry's room bored out of her mind. She wanted to entertain herself with Harry; wanted to see if she could find what made him tick...

Honestly, she was surprised the boy hadn't argued with her on the name. In fact, he even answered to it. It bothered Harley, for reasons she can only guess at. (She ignored the voices telling her that it was because it could be a sign of him beginning to bend, and she didn't want to let him go so soon.)

But the voices are persistent - so Harley lets out a huff and firmly tells them to shut up before opening Harry's door wide; a winning smile in on her face...

Which drops at the scene before her.

The boy was sweating, his breath labored and heavy as he twisted and turned in his sheets. "No, no..." He whimpered making Harley's eyes widen, allowing the door to close quietly behind her as she stepped closer to the bed.

"Not Cedric - don't kill Cedric! Mum - mum, help! Help! They're killing them -Sirius, Remus, Fred...Fred..." Harley watched with an odd feeling growing in her chest as tears began to stream down the boy's face and his breathing became more frantic - unable to look away. "Please! I'm sorry! I'm Sorry Colin! I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry Tonks..." Then the boy began to scream. "KILL ME! JUST KILL ME! I DON'T CARE! I DON'T FUCKING CARE! LEAVE THEM ALONE AND KILL ME!"

Somehow Harley had reached the bed, her hands gripping the boy's shoulders in a bruising grip as she shook him. "Harry! Harry! Wake up! Damn it you ass, wake up!" When Harry broke into incoherent sobbing, Harley straddled him, holding him up by his shirt collar with one hand and back-handing him with the other.

Two seconds later, Harley found herself pinned beneath the boy with his hands on her throat; green eyes burning with murderous sight makes her breathless with awe, blue eyes wide as he continued to hold her there - his grip unyielding. After a moment however, fear's icy hands start to claw at Harley's mind as the boy continues to stare at her with those cold, haunted eyes.

What could have given a boy barely in his twenties eyes like that?

Harley wasn't sure if she wanted the answer.

Suddenly, the ice seemed to thaw from Harry's eyes and confusion replaced it. Then, he noticed Harley lying underneath him with both hands wrapped around the wrist attached to the hand at her throat. Instantly something else came into the boy's expression - raw, and unhidden as he practically jumped off her to land on his feet on the right side of the bed. By the time Harley sat up, he was backed against the wall, trying to hug himself.

"Are you Ok?" The boy asked after a few minutes, shocking Harley with the quietness of his tone.

Shaking the feeling off, Harley grinned. "I can handle a little bit of rough, sugar." She winks at him, but the boy's eyes snap up to meet hers - new fury gathering in his expression.

"This isn't funny!" He growls, the harsh tone making Harley's smile slip. "I could have killed you!"

Harley laughs at that: "Oh please. No you couldn't."

The laugh dies as Harry marches up to her, his five-nine frame suddenly intimidating as he looked down, eyes flashing like lightning. "I used to think the same way."

Harley blinks, curiosity raging through her. "Why do you care?"

"Why do I -" In a second, all the fury drains out of the boy's expression to be replaced by wariness and exhaustion; a change that leaves Harley speechless by the difference. He places a hand to his forehead and rubs exactly where Harley knows the scar rests behind his bangs. "If you don't know what a conscience is, I suggest you watch Pinocchio to figure it out because I'm too tired to explain it right now - but it's something that makes me not enjoy murdering someone who hasn't done anything to deserve it."

Harley processes his words with a frown. "But I kidnapped ya. I tattooed you."

"So what?" The boy grumbles. "You have also given me food, water, a bed to sleep in and you haven't tortured me or anything yet." He shrugs. "I don't like being here, or being your...'plaything' but I know it could be a hell of a lot worse. You even took the bars off my window."

He steps forward, making a hand motion for her to get off the bed which she obeys dazedly, wondering why it felt like his last sentence held something significant - like she was missing something. She is still troubled when Harry settles into bed, a yawn escaping him. "Goodnight Harley." The words give the woman the motivation to make her way towards the door.

Before she left, she had one last question: "Who were those people Harry?"

There was silence for a long moment, so Harley thought he had fallen asleep. When she opened the door, his voice cut through the darkness. "Some of the bravest people I knew."

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