Its been years now. Years since he has had the nightmares.
Years since he has seen the graveyard. Years since he has seen the pierce of red shooting through a dark wintry sky. Years since the last thing he sees before he wakes up in a mess of covers is a flash of green.
All because of her.
Until he was eleven, they were only dreams. Dreams of flying motorbikes and giants, Dreams of better times with laughter and smiles.
Then he would wake up, and the nightmare would begin with the onslaught of day.
With truth came horror.
With truth came the nightmares.
With truth came Voldemort.
Nights he would wake up in a cold sweat came all too often. Nights of worry. Nights of memories.
The flash of green light haunted him wherever he went for so many years, The sound of his mother's incising scream playing on repeat in his mind for days at a time, and the memory of the nightmares would haunt him forever.
While he would wake up from a dream and forget it in blissful ignorance, he could do nothing of the sort with the nightmares. Whenever he woke up, his mind seemed to go into automatic save, and the images stayed firmly imprinted there.
Nothing could make them go away.
They hit with feverent velocity after the third task. No longer were they one in three or four nights sleep. They were there as soon as his eyes closed for slumber, and stayed until they opened again for a new day.
Visions of red and green, of white skin and dark marks. Of curses, and sounds of cackles and evil laughter in the evading silence. Visions of what had passed, and of what was to come.
He never saw her coming though.
In the midst of covers, and the sound of his screams piercing through Gryffindor Tower, he could have never saw her coming. He only felt her arms wrapping around his torso, and her head resting against his as she whispered pleas for him to calm.
He never saw that if he kept holding on to her, that she would come and face slumber with him, and stay with him until morning, to whenever he needed to.
He only saw it in the first morning when his eyes first flickered open, and when he realized that slumber had came easily, and that the nightmares had evaded his sleep.
From then, he could only see her.
Whether it be in the middle of the night when two lovers souls refuse to rest, or when he first wakes in the morning to see her face pressed next to his. He can only see her, only a mass of brown hair and olive skin, no longer red eyes and green curses.
Only her.
She is his rest.
*
A/N - If you have made it this far without gagging on the pure fluff, I applaud you, I really do. Very similar to the first, I realize, but I felt like writing it from a somewhat different perspective. Thank you to all of those who have reviewed the last two parts, and once again, if the mood strikes, you will hopefully see some more :) Please do read and review!
-- Carl