Harry jolted awake as if struck by boiling oil. What the fuck was wrong with him dreaming shit like that?
He quietly got out of bed and made his way to the loo. He stood in front of the sink and splashed water into his face. He had been sweating and crying apparently, so his skin felt gross.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
The death of Sirius must have screwed him up more than he had thought. Maybe he should have taken professor Lupin up on that offer of counseling. He sure as shit needed it if he thought up some fucked up stuff like that.
He mulled over having himself committed for a bit. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad?
When he made his way back to bed he passed through the common room. That was when he caught sight of the back of a bushy head of hair. Wanting to avoid her for now, he snuck past Hermione.
"Haauries!" A voice he couldn't possibly described screeched. He turned and faced Hermione- the madness started taking hold. One does not gaze upon her in their mortal state. An ascended being birthed in the fires of Hell.
Perceptions of reality warped and Harry felt a his lips twinge. His eyes rolled back in their sockets and he began to chant the Mesopotamian alphabet.
A blinding light flashed and the distant conclusion was reached. Things turned out okay in the end.