Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Star Trek or Harry Potter. They belong to J.J Abrams, Gene Roddenberry and J.K Rowling

Warnings: Slash (malexmale pairings), threesomes, AU, violence, angst, sexual situations (maybe), badly written accents, etc.

Pairings: Established Spock/Kirk, Sulu/Chekov, Scotty/Uhura, Future Spock/Harry/Kirk

17. Nightmare

Lights, vibrant in colors, flashed through the darkness lighting up the sky in a beautiful and deadly display. Screams of agony, pain, sorrow and rage echoed through the night as Death Eaters stormed the grounds of Hogwarts, killing students, teachers and Order Members alike. There was no such thing as mercy when it came to war and none was shown. Harry felt his heart racing and he felt deaf, numb to the chaos around him as he shot off another spell, knocking out another Death Eater. He ducked and rolled away as a cutting hex flew over him before whirling around to shoot off a stupefy.

Taking a deep shuddering breath, Harry quickly stood his feet pounding against the hard soil beneath him, his eyes refusing to gaze down at the bodies that littered the ground; refused to see their blood that morbidly nourished the grass replacing the soft green with fierce scarlet. But he couldn't stop his eyes from seeing familiar red hair, matted and dirty. The Weasleys were scattered among the dead, their faces pale and their eyes lifeless. It was wrong and sickening; they weren't suppose to be like that. They were suppose to smile and laugh, their eyes warm with happiness as they treated him like family, like he was loved.

Swallowing back the bile in his throat, Harry felt the sting of tears and he shook his head taking deep breaths. He had to focus, to breathe! He couldn't be swept away or it would never end, their deaths would have been in vain. Taking another deep breath and swallowing the sob lodged in his throat, he continued on his wand flashing as he shot off spells left and right. Fires rose toward the sky, their glow foreboding and wicked while thick clouds of smoke blended into the darkness above, snuffing out the lights of the Heavens. More familiar faces were revealed to him as they rested with the deceased.

Remus Lupin, a man who taught him so much and was in many ways like a second god father, laid pale and cold a gaping stab wound in his chest. No doubt it had been a silver dagger that delivered his death. Next to him was Tonks; bright, clumsy and playful Tonks with her wild hair and mischievous personality. But she was no longer bright, her skin was dull and without warmth while her hair remained limp against the ground, the strands white and empty of color. It wasn't right, it wasn't true. They couldn't be dead. Harry had only seen them just this morning cooing over their son as they smiled and appeared happy like a family should be. But now they were dead and he couldn't save them.

What would happen to Teddy? How could he survive without his parents? Once more he felt the burn of his tears and he wiped them away hastily, swallowing the cries of agony he wished to release. Turning away from the grim display of love and devotion, Harry shook as he stared out taking in the flowing black robes of the person he was seeking.

Voldemort stood in all his twisted glory, his darks robes like shadows as they swayed and curled around him nearly blending into the darkness. Red eyes full of venomous hatred and lust for power gazed out from under his hood while a skeletal looking hand appeared, wand cradled in frail looking fingers. Those eyes that haunted him in his dreams gazed at him with vindictive glee, a look that made the very blood in his veins run cold with dread. And as if summoned from the very air around them, Ron and Hermione appeared bound and gagged, helpless. His heart picked up again as Harry felt his legs moving, hoping and praying for a miracle, some sort of saving grace. And yet he felt as if he was slow, moving through water for he couldn't gain enough ground. And his heart raced more, pounded and slammed into his chest, ringing in his ears.

"Avada Kadavra."

Harry screamed, the noise seeming to burn his throat as cruel green consumed his friends and their lifeless bodies fell to the ground as they joined the ranks of the dead. His mind felt like it was short circuiting and he wondered if his heart would give out, it was beating furiously. But his body wouldn't stop, his legs pumping faster. He felt like an animal, a beast, a predator his eyes narrowed and a snarl ripped from his lips. He sailed through the air for one sweet moment before tackling Voldemort to the ground, uncaring of their wands that flew away from their grasps. The bloodlust seemed to creep up on his mind, a sweet voice whispering dark thoughts of revenge and death. And he wanted it! He wanted to kill this monster with his own hands.

"Poor little Harry Potter, so broken and alone," Voldemort hissed, "Without a friend in the world to keep him company. So twisted and damaged you are."

"Shut up!" Harry shouted his hands quickly finding a skinny, frail neck. He squeezed, pressed with all his might yet despite the pressure, Voldemort laughed. His cackle was cruel and cold without a hint of fear. And those skeletal hands, the ones that appeared so frail and delicate, found his own neck and squeezed as well. But Harry wouldn't give up. The voice begged and roared for vengeance, its sweet and sickly coo dripping like honey. It promised him dark and beautiful things.

"Poor little damaged Potter. Alone and without a friend in the world. A broken little butterfly covered in blood and darkness," Voldemort purred.

"Shut up! Shut up! I'll make you pay for everything you did! I want you to die! I want you to die by my hands and I want to see the light fade from your eyes!" Harry screamed as he ripped the hood away expecting to see a serpentine face. But he felt the breath leave him for he wasn't gazing down at the features of his sworn enemy. He was staring into a pale, youthful face with dark hair that was disheveled and ruffled. Soft lips were curled into a cruel smile as red eyes mocked him, but what stood out was a scar; a scar upon his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt. He was staring at himself.

"It's your fault," the reflection whispered, "You're the reason they died. You killed them just like you wished to kill that creature. And it won't be the last time you feel that urge, hear my voice beckoning you to destroy everything around you. Because I am you and you are me, we are one in the same. And I will never die." Suddenly his scar seemed to burn, flaring with pain and heat like needles were being forced into his skull. It hurt! It burned! Make it stop!

Harry screamed as he jolted up in bed, his skin slick with sweat making his clothes stick to him. His heart was racing and his breaths came out in heaving pants while his limbs shook in either shock or fear, he couldn't tell. He choked down a sob as the images of his dream lingered behind his eyes, so vivid and fresh. Curling up, Harry clutched his hands over his ears yet it seemed to do no good. For the echoing laugh of Voldemort/himself resonated in his mind, taunting him with a nightmare he wanted to forget.

Okay just a quick clarification since many of you have been asking, Spock and the others will eventually find out about Harry and Teddy being wizards. I even have the situation planned out so don't worry. And sorry about the angst. I do like to have angsty characters, but a healthy dose. I hate when the characters are too angsty bordering on emo because it just pisses me off. So Harry will be a bit angsty from time to time but he'll get over his episodes and move on like a normal person.

Anyway, if you have any more questions or maybe some ideas let me know. And remember to review please! Thank you!

~Seth