A/N: Here's another chapter! I went on holiday for a bit and don't have access to much technology right now, so writing is a bit slow!
I hope you enjoy!
A green flash.
Cedric was lying on the ground beside him, eyes open, unblinking. Harry scrambled away, tripping on the uneven ground.
Cedric's mouth opened, as if he was going to say something, but the silence bore down on them heavily.
A high pitched laugh, a triumphant yell, then the body disappeared. Harry was falling through darkness, the blackness suffocating him. With a jerk he awoke, sitting upright. Tearing his way through tattered curtains, he pulled the fabric aside -
Stinging pain in his hand dragged his attention away; he looked down. His hand was drenched in blood, the words shining in the light. He choked, trying to stem the flow.
Umbridge's voice rang in his ears, her words mingling with the cruel laughter still echoing in Harry's head.
His scar seared, he threw both his hands up to his face, covering his forehead. He curled into a ball on the ground, the empty room far from comforting.
There was nobody to help. He tried to call out, but his voice didn't make a sound. But then the room wasn't empty - he wasn't alone after all: footsteps, soft at first, but then louder, until somebody came into view, their face blurry.
Harry coughed, still clutching his scar, the blood running freely from his hand onto his face, crawling across the floor.
"Please -" he managed to whisper, voice hoarse to the point it was barely audible. But the person finally came into view, red eyes gleaming victoriously.
"Ah... this I can use -"
"Get away from me!" Harry said harshly, clambering back from Voldemort. The other straightened, continuing to smile in what could be considered either malice or delight, probably both knowing Harry's luck.
Reaching for his wand, Harry pulled it out, aiming it towards Voldemort. Who, grasping his own wand… vanished.
The room vanished, the eerie light went too, and…
Harry shot upwards, shaking. He turned over and coughed, unable to breath. He covered his mouth, trying to stifle the noise, but it was impossible. He felt like he was going to be sick. His hands were trembling so much that he could barely hold his body up, and as he reached for his glasses he very nearly fell out of the bed.
His covers were tangled around his legs, suffocatingly warm, and he frantically clawed at them. To little effect. When he could take it no longer, he picked up his wand, muttering an incantation. It tore a small part away, allowing him to escape. He fell back down, shivering even more now the cold air hit him. Taking deep breaths, he closed his eyes, praying that he would calm down in a moment. But the second he shut them he felt overwhelmed by panic.
He scrambled up, almost falling over, his feet unsteady. Ron was still asleep, peacefully snoring. Harry clutched his wand, opting to leave his glasses. He was already wasting time in being quiet, he didn't know if he could hold back the nausea much longer. He pulled open the door, and sprinted up the stairs. His vision was so unfocused he couldn't really see at all, whether from the lack of glasses or the tears he wasn't sure; he practically felt his way along the corridor.
Finally he made it to the top bathroom, out of earshot from most of the bedrooms. He retched, head spinning. But he hadn't eaten earlier, there was nothing to come up. He heaved again, sides aching painfully. He spat, in no sense relieved. Collapsing, he fell onto the floor, legs unable to hold him up. He rested his face on the tiles, blissfully cool but also painfully so.
When he felt well enough that he didn't think he would be sick the second he sat up, he rose, wedging himself under the sink, leaning against the piping. It was incredibly uncomfortable. Exactly what Harry needed. He couldn't fall asleep now, not like this.
Why was it that every time he closed his eyes, something bad happened?
He was a liability. He couldn't be trusted, especially in dreams. Maybe he should try to stay awake more? Then he wouldn't have to wake everyone up all the time. And maybe then he wouldn't have to see everything that he wasn't meant to. Voldemort had been more than happy tonight - he'd been overjoyed. Harry briefly wondered what had happened to make him so pleased, then shook his head as the memories of the dream became more pronounced.
He sat there, the trembling never subsiding, for so long that he had traced all the swirling patterns on the ceiling with his eyes twice over. He counted to one hundred, trying to still his hands. It didn't work. So he laid back, neck twisted painfully. It couldn't be long until morning. He could sit there until then. As long as he didn't fall asleep, which seemed unlikely given how cold he was starting to feel.
He was just settling down, having been there for over an hour already, when he heard footsteps. He stilled, or did his best to hide the shaking at least. It didn't work. He prayed they would walk by, walk straight by, or even ignore him. They might be going to another room. But what other rooms were there? Harry was at the top of the house, there were no other rooms except Buckbeak's, and what would someone go there for at this time?
He clenched his eyes shut, turned away -
"Harry?"
Don't look. Maybe they'd ignore him -
"Mate, are you…?"
Fred. Or George. One of them. Usually Harry could tell the twins apart, but now was not his finest moment. He didn't look up at them, keeping his eyes shut and body pressed back. There was a minute of silence, then, "Alright- I'll be back in a sec Harry, just- stay here."
He vanished, leaving Harry alone. Harry barely had time to revel in the quiet before he returned, someone else in tow. There was a sickening feeling in Harry's gut as he realised who it would be.
"- just found him, he's shaking -"
"Thank you, George -"
"He didn't say anything but -"
"It's okay, I'll take this one."
Harry waited, then heard Sirius enter the room. He didn't immediately come towards Harry, thank god, but crouched down across the room.
"Harry?" He asked softly. Harry didn't move. "Harry...?"
Blearily, Harry finally opened his eyes, squinting at the light. Sirius was sitting by the other wall, a cloak hastily pulled over his nightclothes.
"You're going to catch your death if you sit there any longer," he said. Harry shook his head, warding away the dizziness that still lingered at the edges of his brain.
"I -" He began, then the words caught in his throat. He coughed, feeling the nausea return. It wasn't much, but the concern in Sirius's face was more than evident.
"Harry, please, you've got to come out before you freeze."
Harry looked away, weighing his options. To say he was cold would be more than truthful, he had gone from boiling to numb, and he couldn't tell whether he was shaking anymore. He didn't gain much from staying where he was, so long as he didn't fall asleep.
He stood up, leaning heavily on the sink. Sirius moved almost immediately to help him, though Harry could see he was fairly tentative in touching him. He grasped Harry's arm, pulling him to his feet.
"Okay- you're doing great," he said. Harry wobbled, cursing as he did. The aftermath of the dreams was almost as bad as the dreams themselves. He felt as pathetic as he had when curled on the ground in front of Voldemort.
"Okay?" Sirius asked. Harry shrugged,
"Yeah - but I can't see, need my glas -"
"We can get them on the way down," Sirius replied.
"Wait… you're not making me go back to bed?" Harry said in disbelief.
"No point. You wouldn't sleep, I wouldn't sleep, and we'd be no better off by morning."
Gripping Harry's shoulder, Sirius led him out of the room, flicking off the light as he went. They were plunged into the dark, but light radiating from further down guided them to the stairs. Harry followed his godfather's silhouette, preparing to sneak into his bedroom to grab his glasses quickly. But, to his dismay, Ron was standing in the doorway. Already holding them out.
Harry took them awkwardly, putting them on. Clarity returned to his vision, even if it was almost dark enough that he couldn't see anything anyways. He nodded at Ron,
"Cheers -"
"You alright?"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, "It's - it's not bad."
Ron raised his eyebrows and Harry averted his eyes. He never knew how to react when it came to Ron seeing his dreams. "I- I'll be back in… in a bit."
They trailed into silence, so Harry moved past Ron, taking the stairs down to the lower floor. Sirius said a quick thanks to Ron, then followed.
Harry wasn't sure where he was meant to go, so waited for Sirius to take the lead. He followed him into the living room, one hardly used by anyone, lack of space leaving little room for the members of the Order to hold a meeting.
"Coffee?" Sirius asked, taking Harry by surprise.
"Uh - I'm okay thanks."
"Sure?"
At Harry's nod, Sirius sat down on the sofa.
"I'll leave it for now then."
Harry sat next to him, perching uncomfortably on the edge. He stared at the wall across from them, one of the few they had been unable to clear. Paintings hung from the walls, only just covering the dark char marks. Sirius looked at him, then sighed, leaning forward.
"We - we need to talk. I won't make it long because I know you probably don't want to, but..."
He fell silent. Harry didn't react, determinedly gazing away blankly.
"I'm worried about you. Remus is too. We - I… I don't think that you're happy," Sirius began, shifting so he could see Harry better, "and god knows you have full right not to be, but I just... We need to sort it. This. Whatever this is, we need to change it -"
"I'm not - I'm not horribly unhappy. Just - I'm not happy either," Harry whispered, looking at Sirius.
"I think you're more unhappy than you're letting on -"
"Well what do you want me to do about that?" Harry snapped harshly. He realised his mistake immediately, and looked away, "sorry -"
"It's okay."
Harry blinked away the tears he felt forming in his eyes. He didn't know why he felt so weak. All of the time. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried properly in front of someone, if ever, and he wasn't about to break his streak. Why was it now, when someone was being kind, not when he was facing death?
He didn't turn back until the threat of tears had passed, and he prayed Sirius wouldn't notice.
"I - I don't know why I'm so sad. And angry. I feel so angry all the time -"
"At who? Voldemort? Yourself? Or, hell, me?"
Harry couldn't answer. Not truthfully. Because the truth was, yes, everyone. Of course he was mad at Voldemort, and Umbridge, and Snape, and just everyone like that, but -
He felt so much anger towards everyone else. For no reason. Like the sadness, it seemed to creep up on him unaware. A year ago he'd felt none of this, and now he was - bitter. Towards Dumbledore. Towards Ron, and Hermione. Towards Sirius, who had done nothing but support him. Even now he felt angry, felt betrayed that Sirius was questioning him, trying to get him to reveal how he was doing.
It just - it didn't make sense.
So he kept his mouth shut. Sirius raised his eyebrows.
"I'll take that as an 'all of the above.'"
"I - I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."
Sirius sighed again.
"What - what could I do? I want to help, but I don't even know where to start -"
"I don't know," Harry said again. "I've tried everything. Nothing works."
"Let's - start at stage one. What's worrying you?"
Harry thought. He tried to think of an answer, but it proved difficult.
"Voldemort. He's killing people again, I've seen the news," he said eventually. Sirius shook his head.
"I'm afraid I can't do much about that, though I would if I was allowed," he replied, pulling a reluctant smile from Harry, "But I think this is deeper than just the war."
"I don't know Sirius, honestly I - I just wish more people would believe me. I - So much of the school thinks I'm crazy. Some of my friends think I'm mad. Even Moody said -"
"Moody?" Sirius asked sharply, "What did he say?"
"It - It doesn't matter. But still. Everyone thinks I'm crazy. Maybe I am craz- "
"Don't you dare even finish that." Sirius interrupted. "You are not mad. You're one of the few sane people left."
"It doesn't feel like it sometimes," Harry said, with a humourless laugh. "I get stupid nightmares all the time, I want to attack people, maybe… maybe Voldemort has got inside my head somehow."
He rose to his feet, ignoring Sirius's attempts to stop him. He turned to face the latter, waving his arms earnestly,
"Maybe Moody is right! Moody, Seamus, all the others? Maybe I'm making this up?"
"Harry, you know that isn't true -"
"Maybe Dumbledore is avoiding me because he thinks Voldemort is, I don't know, using me? He's worried that I'll screw the Order's plans up. Or the Ministry, Umbridge and Fudge know that I'm dangerous. Maybe that's why they tried to expel me? God, Umbridge is probably right, what if I dreamt it all up? What if she's right, and she's trying to help me -"
"Harry. Sit the fuck down."
Harry looked back. For a minute he was going to refuse, despite Sirius's voice leaving no room for argument; it was dangerously low. But he submitted in the end, sinking back next to Sirius.
"If I ever hear you say that that woman is 'helping' you again, I'll have to do something that I don't want to do. Understand?" He declared. Harry nodded nervously. Sirius, seemingly satisfied, breathed out. "Okay. For starters, that bitch is not helping you. Nor is she right, or justified, in what she's doing to you. Ever. Secondly, you are not crazy, you are as sane as I am. Which, to be fair, is not very, but that's no bad thing."
Harry grinned awkwardly. Sirius looked at him for a moment and then opened his arms. A minute ago Harry would have refused, but now he didn't have much resistance left in him. He shifted so his head rested on Sirius's shoulder, letting his godfather wrap his arms around him.
"God, Harry, you're freezing."
"A little," Harry admitted.
"Here -" Sirius answered, arranging his cloak so it hung around Harry too, "- can't have you dying just yet."
They sat in silence, but it was comfortable this time. Harry felt himself beginning to drift off, and jerked awake.
"Was it another nightmare?" Sirius asked softly, able to tell what Harry was doing despite him never saying.
"Yeah." Harry mumbled, "Not like the snake one but - similar."
"We can deal with this. In the morning. Start with Umbridge, work from there."
"But what can we do? What can you do?" Harry asked defeatedly.
"I don't know. I will deal with it. Somehow." Sirius replied steadily, "But you need sleep. I promise I'll wake you up if you have another."
Harry closed his eyes. That was a good enough compromise for him.
He craved sleep, despite the terror that came with it. And all he could hope would be that he could have rest, finally get some proper relief before tomorrow. He knew he would have to be ready to face more. Sirius was determined to sort it out. Maybe it would work.
But despite his godfather's assurances, as Harry drifted off to sleep he could not help but wonder whether Sirius was uttering empty promises.
A/N: I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this, or how long it will be, so bear with me! Thanks to everyone who followed/favourited!
Reviews are always welcome!
