Dark Themes are ahead. Please read with caution. Mentions of suicide and alcoholism

Roses and Revolutions' music really helped write this chapter.

Chapter 2: Noise in my Head

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Harriet screamed as she sat straight up in bed. Her heart was pounding in her ears and sweat seeped through her clothes. Her hand clutched her forehead. When she pulled it back, she felt something sticky and wet. Flipping the light on her bedside table, she found her hand red with blood.

In her haste to stand up, she fell out of bed bleary eyed and confused. In the bathroom, she found her scar seeping blood. Wincing she cleaned her forehead, only to find her scar vividly red and angry. It hurt to the touch. Sobbing, Harriet stumbled into the corner of the bathroom. She sank to the floor; wrapping her arms around her legs and rocking. Every night for two months she found herself having strange and vivid nightmares.

Harriet couldn't take much more.

At first, she didn't give it much thought. She was always prone to horrific nightmares and her drinking had worsened them. However, as each day passed the nightmares became more vivid, as if they were memories. Until she realized what they were.

Every night she dreamed about killing herself.

Since that realization, Harriet had done nothing but drink and take sleeping potions. It had become so bad that she was beginning to wonder if she was suicidal again. Not that anyone would care if she were actually gone. She was just an unpleasant reminder of a war that most everyone was keen on forgetting, especially since most of the laws and regulations that were created during the war were kept.

Not in regards to wizardkind. Pureblood, half-blood, or muggleborn; it no longer mattered, everyone was stuck with each other. For good or ill, it was decided that everyone would get along and the ministry wanted no part of the pureblood community's whining.

It was just everyone else that was the problem.

Werewolves were officially banned from attending Hogwarts. In fact, they could no longer have a wand. They had all been regulated to the wilds of Scotland with heavy wards in place to keep them from leaving. They couldn't even leave the country without special permission and the ministry never gave special permission. Remus Lupin, who had barely survived the war, was the only werewolf allowed to live outside of the wards and retain his wand.

That was only because Harriet had allowed him to move in with her at 12 Grimmauld Place. In fact, he had almost lost custody of his son, but Harriet had used her influence to gain custody as Teddy's legal guardian. According to the ministry, she was both Remus and Teddy's guardian. She knew Remus had to find that insulting.

Soon after the decision about the werewolves, it had then been decided that vampires and hags were to be restricted to the moors. Causing an uproar in the Society for the Tolerance of Vampires. The ministry was keen to point out that werewolves, vampires, and hags were all being punished because they had sided with Lord Voldemort. It had then been pointed out by The Society that not all of them had chosen the wrong side, but the ministry would not be swayed.

The rest of wizardkind didn't seem to care. Many were keen on the separation between the beings. Once the "dark" beings were rounded up then they moved on to the house-elves. They could no longer stay free. If they were freed by a "master" they had to go to the ministry for reassignment. Boundary lines were put in place to keep the giants and trolls in the mountains. All of the experts on magical beings did not think that was a good idea; considering how violent both species could be. The ministry didn't listen.

Goblins had almost received the same treatment but they tactfully pointed out that they were in charge of the wizard gold. They suggested that maybe it was a good idea that they were overlooked. The ministry quietly agreed and left them to their own devices.

Full blooded veelas at that point had made sure to flee Britain, relocating to France where a large veela community thrived. Bill had contemplated moving his family to France but the borders were quickly closed to all half-humans. Fleur was considered a half-human.

All half-humans then had to register with the ministry and those that didn't were forced to live with their full blooded non-human family. It was like Dolores Umbridge was running the ministry and Harriet couldn't understand why anybody had voted for these laws.

Albus had tried to stop the half-human persecution but nobody listened to him any longer. It had taken all his considerable influence to keep Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy out of Azkaban. Those that had owed Albus considered the relationship severed, especially since Albus had faked his own death, abandoning everyone during the final year of the war. It hadn't mattered that Albus had been fighting a deadly poison. Nor did they seem to care that Albus had been completely indisposed in a glass coffin. All they cared about was that he had left them to fight alone. It was enough for them to sever all ties.

This had all happened within four years. Six years that Harriet tried to talk sense into ministry officials. Ministry officials that had become increasingly hostile to her as time wore on. In her last confrontation with the minster, he had insulted her by insinuating that she wasn't a "pure human" and that to defeat such an inhuman beast as Lord Voldemort she had to have had "non-human help".

Angry, Harriet had snipped that maybe he was afraid of all the non-humans because they were more powerful than Wizardkind. He had kicked her out of his office and never allowed her back in the ministry.

Which had put her out of a job since she had been an active auror at the time. After that, she began giving interviews and organizing rallies to try and gather support for non-human beings. It looked like it would work too, but when the ministry had threatened to make Remus live in Scotland and to take Teddy from them both, she had stopped fighting.

That's when the drinking started.

It wasn't a lot at first. Just drinks when she "needed it". It took a long time to admit that it was a problem. Such a problem that Remus had asked her to separate 12 Grimmuald Place into two separate apartments so Teddy didn't have to see his "Auntie" so drunk all the time.

That had been a slap in the face. For which she responded by slapping Remus in the face. Which had been the wrong thing to do so close to the full moon. Apparently, Remus was an alpha werewolf, and alpha's enjoyed violence from their mates.

Remus had never told her that his wolf considered them "mated" due to their living arrangement and their co-parenting of Teddy. So, to her surprise, Remus had pinned her to the wall and violently kissed her. It had been a searing kiss. One she had felt right down to her toes. She had moaned and that had caused Remus to bury his hands into her hair and tug her so close that there was no light separating them. She had felt his body respond to her and in turn felt her body respond to him.

He had pulled away then, looking absolutely horrified.

She had remembered how he had fled. How he avoided speaking to her unless it had anything to do with Teddy. Poor Teddy had been confused. Harriet had been heart-sick. She had been denying her feelings for Remus for months. They were raising Teddy together and spent all of their time together. It just felt right.

Finally, after almost a month to the date of their first kiss, Harriet had cornered him. She had demanded that he explain himself. Of course, watching him snog another woman; a nice muggle bookshop patron, had sent her into a rage. She had gone to try and pick him up from work. Something that she used to do before her drinking had gotten so bad. Only to watch as he sweetly kissed another woman. Harriet waited until the stranger was out of sight before she confronted Remus.

"What the hell Remus!" Harriet had bellowed, dropping her gift for him. A dozen cookies from the muggle bakery he liked.

"H..H…Harriet?" Remus had stuttered, obviously surprised.

"What the fuck is the matter with you!" Harriet had hissed, almost in parseltongue, "First you kiss me like you want to devour me, then you avoid me for a fucking month, and now I find out you have a girlfriend!"

She turned on her heel, and uncaring about muggles or ministry rules, she had apparated to their home. She stomped up the stairs only to be stopped by Remus. She swung at him but he had pinned her, once again, to the wall.

"Stop being violent Harriet!" Remus had snarled, "What if Teddy had seen?"

"He is with Mrs. Wesley," Harriet had hissed back, "Do you think I would leave him with Kreacher? I know you have a low opinion of me, but give me some credit Remus!"

Remus pushed away from her and crossed his arms. He refused to look her in the eye and said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Elizabeth. It just started and I wanted to see if it was serious before I let you know."

"What happened to kissing me?" Harriet had asked, heartbroken, "Was I really that bad?"

Remus had said nothing, but looked down at his shoes. Finally, he looked up at Harriet with grim determination, "I'm sorry about that Harriet. That was my fault as a werewolf."

"What do you mean?" Harriet had asked, she had tried not to whine but failed miserably.

"You are an alpha female," Remus had begun, "And I'm an alpha male. My wolf wants you to be his mate."

Harriet didn't say anything for a second. She just blinked at "my wolf".

"I take it you don't," Harriet finally said, slowly, "That your instincts are to mate with me but that you don't actually want to."

Remus just pressed his lips together. Harriet snorted, "Fine. Don't tell me a fucking thing."

She went to leave but stopped when Remus said, "And that is why I hesitate."

She looked at him and Remus had finally said what everyone had been thinking, "You are a drunk Harriet. You are bitter. And you are changeable."

Harriet just stared at him, blinking back tears. Remus continued with barely contained frustration, "It doesn't help that you are my best friend's daughter. That you are twenty years younger than me. But you are so good with Teddy and our arrangement is such that I could overlook that."

Remus sighed and reached out, cupping Harriet's cheek and bringing her close.

"But I can't overlook the drinking. I can't overlook how you are beginning to pull away from Teddy and I. Even before the kiss you were starting to become unstable." He put their foreheads together and sighed in regret.

"I do care for you Harriet," Remus whispered, kissing her softly, "I would have proudly and gladly called you mate if you had just stopped the drinking."

Harriet said nothing. Her heart was slamming into her ribs and she found her stomach was twisting in knots. She knew nothing of men. Her flirtation with Neville in school had been so long ago, and her time at the ministry had only caused her stress and rage. She had quickly developed a reputation as a hot blooded Auror that didn't mind using violence on dark wizards and colleagues alike. Nobody had approached her. Quite a few of them had been afraid of her. Charlie Wesley had expressed interest but her life had been spent between activism, work, and Teddy and she didn't have any time left for romance.

It also didn't help that she really disliked being touched. She had not been aware of it at first. When she and Neville had dated in school Neville had been sweet and safe. Someone she knew and who respected her. Of course, Ron thought Neville was scared of her, but Harriet preferred to think better of Neville.

It wasn't until she was at the ministry that her aversion to touch was apparent. So many people she didn't know were always slapping her back or shaking her hand. Combining that discomfort with the Ministry's policies contributed to extreme stress. Which turned into rage. By the time she realized what was wrong, her reputation was set in stone. She felt that she had no choice but to live up to it. It didn't take her long to realize she was going down the same road as Snape. She found herself wishing she had been more understanding of the snarky professor.

Surprisingly, she didn't mind Snape touching her. Not that he did very often, except the times she would come to his shop after a particularly nasty hangover. The first time he had reached out to steady her, she had been surprised when she hadn't flinched. Despite all their bad blood, his touch was soft, he smelled of sandalwood and smoke, and she found it comforting.

She refused to buy her household potions from anyone else after that.

Remus' touch was also comforting, but just a brush of his hand could set her whole body on fire. She had found herself craving it. The kiss with Remus was everything she had wanted it to be, but when Remus pulled away, with a sad smile, she had felt her hope crumble.

"It's too late Harriet," Remus said, moving away from her grasp, "you have been drinking too long and have been too violent with me. My wolf craves that type of violence and I refuse to allow my wolf to dedicate my relationships. I will show my son a proper relationship or none at all."

Harriet gritted her teeth, gave a jerky nod, and fled to her bedroom. She had spent all night planning on what she would do. How she would convince Remus to give her a chance. She made herself stay sober, surely her drinking wasn't that bad? When her hands began to shake, she realized her problem was a lot worse than she had thought. It had barely been twenty-four hours since her last drink, and yet her body responded violently to the lack of alcohol.

The next day, she waited for Remus to leave, went to find Teddy, and sent him to Mrs. Wesley. Mrs. Wesley obviously wanted to say something about Harriet's appearance and her shaking hands but Harriet glared at the older woman.

Whispering a thank you, Harriet went back to 12 Grummuald Place and began the construction of the two separate apartments. Kreacher didn't like it and made a fuss, but when she explained to the house elf what had happened between Remus and herself, he quickly took over. Her withdrawal from alcohol was causing her magic to become shaky and Kreacher quickly made her a place outside in the yard so she could get herself under control while he finished the apartments.

When Remus came home, he found himself confronted by the foyer and the two separate doors.

"Yours is on the left," Harriet had said, sipping directly from a wine bottle, "You and Teddy have two bedrooms, a play room, a library, a bathroom, a kitchen and your own access to the yard. Not to mention a fair amount of storage space and a room for Winky." She then had taken a huge gulp of wine.

Remus' face had been impassive as he watched her drink. He nodded, his eyes sad and he asked, "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me," Harriet had replied, turning her back on Remus and opening her door, "Kreacher and I have plenty of space." She was about to shut the door in his face when she said, "Teddy's at Mrs. Wesley. You might want to speak with her about babysitting since I can't be trusted with him." She then slammed the door, but not before she had seen the stricken look on Remus' face. She had been absurdly glad that she had hurt him.

That's when the drinking became worse. She drank morning, noon and night. Teddy would bang on her door trying to get her attention. Begging her to play with him. Harriet would remain quiet on her side of the door, silent tears running down her face. Kreacher would beg her to eat something, and she would try, but food made her throw up. She would hear Kreacher sob every night after she went to bed. She had been touched that Kreacher cared so much, but not enough to stop drinking.

She didn't come out for two months. Her depression was so complete that she would have Kreacher fetch her food and booze, forced by his bond as a house elf to enable her. Often, she would just stare out the window and slowly force herself to drink glass after glass of wine.

Finally, Kreacher could take it no more and disabled all of her wards, allowing Hermione and Ron inside the small apartment.

That was what she had designed for herself. While she had spent time and thought on Remus' and Teddy's home, a home that she had wanted to share with them, she had only given herself a two-bedroom apartment. It had a small kitchenette, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a rather large space for Kreacher. She had spent more thought on Kreacher's area then her own and had made sure the house elf followed her specific demands for his room.

After Kreacher had dispelled the protective wards, he had beaten himself over the head with a book while Winky tried to stop him. She tried to convince him that he was helping his "mistress." Hermione gasped and stopped in her tracks when she had set eyes on Harriet for the first time in months. Her hair had been a rat's nest, her skin was waxy, and she smelt of sweat, vomit, and booze. Ron easily picked her off the floor and Harriet could hear the fear in his voice.

"Where can we take her?" Ron had asked Hermione who was sobbing into her hands. Trying not to make noise.

"Is she even alive?" Hermione had asked, taking a step toward them, but too afraid to touch her.

"Barley," Ron had replied, shifting Harriet's weight so he could make sure her chest was rising and falling.

"Take her to Madame Pomfrey," Hermione finally decided, Harriet could tell she was trying to stop crying, "Quickly Ron. I'll check on Remus and Teddy."

Ron nodded and that was the last thing Harriet remembered.

When she woke up, she had been in Hogwarts's Hospital Wing, in the private room for the professors. Dumbledore had been sitting by her bedside reading the Daily Prophet. Looking at her through his glasses, he folded his paper while smiling sadly, "It is good to see you awake Harriet."

"How long was I out?" Harriet had asked. She had struggled to speak, and her body had felt leaden.

"A week," Dumbledore had said, watching her struggle, "Madame Pomfrey felt it best to keep you unconscious while the potions worked to reverse the damage to your body."

"Damage?" Harriet had whispered, and Dumbledore had nodded, continuing, "Drinking and not eating has not only caused you to deplete your magical core, but has harmed some of your internal organs. The potions that were prescribed to you were painful."

Both were quiet for some time and then finally Albus had asked, "Why Harriet?"

Harriet remembered a deep rage that took her in that moment. She had then looked at the headmaster and sneered, "Why not? I was raised to die, wasn't I?"

Both had said nothing after that. Albus had looked devastated by her words and Harriet had felt numb.

They had made her go to rehab. They had said her depression and drinking would kill her and that she should go to heal. They enrolled her into a muggle rehab and left her there for six months. Harriet hadn't protested. She knew her friends were only trying to help and so she had gone hoping it would work.

It hadn't.

Slowly, over time, all her friends distanced themselves from her, tired of the violence and self-flagellation. It was lucky that she had magic and money, or she would have long since been homeless.

Sniffing, Harriet felt the pain from her forehead begin to slowly calm and she stood up. Looking at herself in the mirror she flinched. She looked like a skeleton. She looked far worse than she ever had when the Dursley's were starving her. Running the water, she washed her hands trying to keep the tears at bay. She felt so alone, which was her own fault.

Her last stint in rehab had severed her friendship with the Weasleys. They had told her that they could no longer watch her kill herself. That if she drank again, they would have to cut ties with her. It had caused something in Harriet to break. Her magic had whipped out and broken every window in The Burrow.

"Then fucking leave me alone Molly," Harriet had shouted, "If you can't bare it, then fuck off. It was easy for you to watch the Dursley's abuse me. But God forbid if I abuse myself."

Molly had sobbed and looked away from Harriet. Mr. Weasley had yelled at her to get out and that she would never be welcomed back. Harriet had flipped him off and made sure to blow the door off its hinges as she left. Just to be petty.

She had gone directly to Hogwarts after that. Made sure to get Dumbledore alone, she hadn't actually given him much of a choice since she had furiously yelled at Albus to get his manipulative ass into the hallway.

She had signed over her guardianship of Remus and Teddy in that moment and told him that they were allowed to stay at the house but that she was done fucking dealing with people.

She had called Ron and Hermione to tell them to leave her alone. That they didn't want her around their children. Hermione had taken that harder than Ron since he was incensed at her for destroying the Burrow.

She asked Kreacher if he wanted to stay with her or have the ministry find him another assignment. He had begged her to let him stay. She made sure to remind him that this was his choice and then ordered him not to ask anyone for help.

"I'm going to kill myself Kreacher," Harriet had announced, "I'm a waste of space. Please just let me go."

She had then taken the booze into the bathroom and shut him out. He had cried and begged her to come out. Harriet had drunk bottle after bottle. Desperately trying to become numb. She was over this fucking world. She just wanted to go somewhere she was loved. When she was drunk enough, she took a knife and slit her wrists. She lay in the dry tub and watched as the blood poured from her veins.

It hadn't worked. Her magical core was too used to keeping her alive to let her bleed out. It burnt off the alcohol just enough for the pain to hit Harriet. Not wanting to die in pain, she stumbled out of the bathroom. Blood smeared across her furniture and cabinets, while she hunted for her blood replenishing potions. Kreacher rushed to her side and helped heal the wounds.

She had cried herself to sleep when she realized that there would be no easy way out. If she wanted to kill herself, she was going to have to try something else. Which, now that she was thinking straight, she didn't want to do. She was tired of hurting herself. Besides, her drinking binge had made her sick at the thought of alcohol.

For three months she was sober. It was the longest she had ever stayed away from alcohol by herself. She had just begun contemplating sending owls to everyone and asking for forgiveness when the nightmares had started. Then she stopped being able to sleep. Soon after that, the drinking started again. However, this time she also began abusing sleeping potions. It had gotten to the point that Snape had stopped selling them to her and had made sure nobody else would either.

So, she made them herself.

"Leave it to you Potter to finally learn potions when you are denied something; like the brat you are." Snape had sneered when he had come to check on her.

"Well, if you had been a better teacher then maybe I would have learned sooner," Harriet had snapped, aggressively. She was getting zero sleep and did not need Snape's mouth.

"Touché Potter," Snape had conceded, giving her an evaluating look, "If you would stop drinking, then the potions might work. You look exhausted."

Harriet had sobbed as she stirred her potion but had kept her eyes on the timer. She was desperate to sleep.

"Do you think so?" Harriet had whispered desperately, "I mean, I tried but it didn't seem to work."

"Do it for a month," Severus had said as he searched her face.

Harriet had known she looked awful. There had been bags under her eyes. Her scar had been a vivid red and it had begun to itch. There were splotches on her face. She had smelled.

"Okay," Harriet had whispered, "I'll do it."

Harriet did exactly what Snape told her, but it didn't help. Nothing kept the dreams away, nothing allowed her to sleep, and she felt so exhausted all the time. With each passing day the dreams become more and more vivid like she was watching television with surround sound.

Now, she was staring at herself in her bathroom mirror, terrified. It had been the worst one yet. She had been there. She had watched herself get in the tub, clothes on. She had plugged up a toaster and had looked at herself in the mirror.

Except it wasn't her.

In all the other dreams she had, she watched from the perspective of the person killing themselves. In her nightmares, she had never been anywhere near a mirror and so had assumed the person killing themselves was her. That deep down she was still suicidal, but here was the proof that she was not.

It had been a man. Not much taller than her, with a raggedy suit on, so dirty she couldn't tell what color it was. He had been standing in a tub and she could feel the water in his shoes. He looked underweight, with deep circles under his eyes. He looked so sad and desperate. His eyes had been a soft brown. However, right before he dropped the toaster in the water, they had dilated into a reptilian amber.

She still remembered the flickering lights and feeling like she was being ripped apart. She remembered the smell of burning flesh and his scream had been so loud; so, pain filled. Then she awoke screaming, with her scar bleeding. There was only one person in all the world that could cause her scar to do that.

Lord Voldemort.

How could that be? He was dead and the man in her dreams looked nothing like the monster he had been. Except his eyes, she would remember those eyes anywhere.

Was Voldemort possessing people? Having them kill themselves and then moving on to the next host? And if so, why was she just now having dreams about it? Was it some way of gaining power?

Those questions ran through Harriet's mind as she left the bathroom and searched desperately through her bookshelf. She finally found what she was looking for, a photo album. Harriet flipped to the back page. There she took out an envelope and scattered the few pictures she found across her bed.

Looking back at her were various shots of Tom Riddle, pre-Voldemort.

He looked like a younger version of the man from her nightmare. Gasping in surprise, Harriet picked up the photo of Tom Riddle during his Hogwarts graduation. The photo was black and white so she couldn't tell hair or eye color, but she could tell one main difference between the two.

Tom Riddle's eyes were dead. There was no emotion in them, only cold satisfaction. The man from her nightmare had the most expressive eyes she had ever seen; so sad and desperate. Harriet shivered and let the photo drop.

"Does Mistress need Kreacher?" Kreacher asked as he watched his mistress stare into space. She glanced at him and nodded.

"Please make me some tea," Harriet asked, rubbing her eyes and sighing, "I can't sleep again Kreacher."

"Yes Mistress," Kreacher said, beginning to reach out to her but thinking better of it. Lately, she would catch him trying to comfort her, but he would never let himself actually touch her. Harriet knew Kreacher was terrified of her dying.

Staring at the various photos of Lord Voldemort, Harriet knew she should tell someone. It was obvious that Lord Voldemort was alive. If she shared her suspicions now, they could intervene before he gained power. However, one question stopped her.

"If Lord Voldemort was back, why was he trying to kill himself?"