Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter, all characters belong to JK Rowling :)

Chapter warnings: mentions of child abuse (non-graphic)

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Moonlight seeped through the heavy fog, the rays illuminating crumbling headstones and withered trees. One grave in particular caught Harry's eye - moonlight permeated a gap in the mist, shining directly onto the cracked, mossy stone, casting light upon the engravings on the surface… Tom Riddle. A cruel, high-pitched laugh echoed through the graveyard, sending chills down Harry's spine. A voice spoke, cold and clear: "Kill the spare."

"NO!" Harry screamed, as a green jet of light shot in front of him. He turned to his left as the curse hit, and the boy standing next to him flew backwards. He fell to the ground with a resonating thud, his unseeing eyes wide open in fear. Harry collapsed next to the body, sobs wracking his body. "CEDRIC! NO!"

A dark figure appeared through the mist, a pair of serpent-like eyes glowing red from within his black hood. The voice came again, an almost amused tone lacing his words. "Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived." He mused the title, turning his wand over in his hand. "Not so brave now, are you, Potter?"

Harry couldn't move. He was frozen at Cedric's side, paralysed by fear. Suddenly, the figure swept towards him, his tattered cloak billowing out behind him. He grabbed Harry's chin, forcing his head up. His face was mere inches from Harry's, and though he couldn't see much of what was under the hood, Harry could feel the figure's rank breath on his skin.

His voice lowered to a whisper, Voldemort hissed at Harry, "I'm going to kill you, Harry Potter - just like I killed your mother, and your father, and that pathetic little friend of yours. There's no one to protect you now. How many more people will you allow to die for you, just because you are too much of a coward to face me yourself?" The figure retreated, moving back only a few feet before holding out his wand with long, slender fingers and aiming it towards Harry. "Crucio!"

Harry writhed in agony, screaming as the curse tore through him. It was like a thousand white-hot knifes, boring into him again and again. He screamed until his lungs gave out, unable to think past the excruciating pain. And then, as soon as it had come, the pain stopped. In the aftermath, Harry was left lying flat on his back on the damp, leafy ground, panting heavily and trembling. The inhuman laugh came again, turning Harry's blood to ice in his veins. Then, before Harry could so much as lift his head… "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The last thing Harry saw was a flash of green light, and a woman's scream ringing in his ears, before everything went black…

~~

Harry! Harry, wake up!"

Harry woke to firm hands shaking his shoulders and a panicked voice saying his name. He fought the hands, blind panic taking over as he tumbled out of bed, managing to grab his wand from the nightstand as he not-so-gracefully fell to the floor. He was up again in an instant, brandishing his wand at the perpetrator. Through his blurry vision, Harry was just able to make out a dark haired, moustached man in an emerald green dressing gown.

"Harry…" Sirius stared wide-eyed at the boy in front of him. He didn't know what to say, what to do - Harry was visibly shaking, his hand trembling as he held his wand out in front of him.

He fumbled around the nightstand, the full mug of cold 'hot' chocolate ending up on the floor as his hand searched blindly for his glasses. He quickly shoved them on, complete relief flooding through him at the sight of his godfather. Then he looked down at his hand, and at the wand he was pointing at him. "Sirius, I-" his voice was hoarse as he spoke, lowering his wand to his side. His throat was raw and scratchy. Had he been screaming? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

Sirius approached him slowly, gently prising Harry's wand from his grip and placing it down on the nightstand. He wrapped his arms around Harry in a secure embrace, carefully guiding him back to the bed so that they were sitting side by side on the mattress. For the first time in years, Harry let himself be held. Instead of feeling trapped or claustrophobic, as he normally felt when someone hugged him, Harry felt… safe. Somehow, in that moment, he allowed himself to feel comforted, secure, even. Even though it was strange and unfamiliar to Harry to be held in a way that wasn't purposefully restrictive or aggressive (curtesy of his uncle), he felt himself relaxing into the embrace, the apprehensive tension that had stiffened his body at first melting away.

"It's okay, I've got you. It was just a dream. You're okay." Sirius murmured softly, moving his hand up and down Harry's back in a soothing motion.

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to wake you," Harry said, his voice almost a whisper. At the Dursleys, Vernon did not tolerate being woken up by Harry's screaming, and he would often wake up with new bruises in the morning.

"It's okay, I know you didn't mean to. You couldn't help it." Sirius was slightly perplexed by Harry's panicked apologies. Did he really think he would be angry with him for having a nightmare?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Sirius knew the likelihood of Harry wanting to talk was about the same as a hippogriff breaking into Gringotts, but he knew he should at least try.

"I was- I was back in the graveyard," Harry mumbled, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. He pulled away from Sirius as he spoke, shuffling up to the headboard and holding his knees to his chest. "Cedric was there. And then…" Harry faltered, palming his eyes. He really didn't want to relive it. Fortunately, he didn't have to - Sirius already knew the events of the third task, knew what Harry had been forced to witness. Sirius nodded, placing a reassuring hand on Harry's knee.

"Was He there? Voldemort?" He asked tentatively.

Harry nodded, and sniffed quietly. "But he wasn't - he wasn't human. Not really. He had his hood up, so I couldn't really see his face, but his eyes…" Harry shuddered at the memory. Those glowing, red eyes with slitted pupils that seemed to absorb any and all light. Sirius squeezed his knee and waited patiently for him to resume talking. Harry was finally opening up, and the last thing he wanted was to jeopardise it by pushing him.

"He used the- cruciatus curse. On me. And it felt exactly the same… the same as it did that night."

Sirius tried his hardest to keep the shock off of his face. No one had told him that Harry had been under the cruciatus curse. Had he even told anyone? Hot anger bubbled in his veins, but he kept his face neutral, not wanting Harry to think he was angry with him.

"And then there was this flash of green light, and just… darkness. But as it hit me, I heard…" Harry trailed off, as though lost in thought.

"Heard what, Harry?" Sirius asked anxiously, gently squeezing Harry's knee to regain his focus.

"A scream. A- a woman's scream." Harry said quietly, "I think… I know it's stupid, but - I think it might have been my mum."

Lily. Harry had heard his mother die. This realisation chilled Sirius's blood, turning it to ice in his veins. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. "Have you- have you had these dreams before?" He managed, looking at Harry nervously. He hoped to Merlin this was a one off. His hopes, however, were shattered by Harry's next words.

"I have them most nights - always the same one," he admitted, and finally shifted his gaze to meet his godfather's worried eyes. Every night. Harry had been having these dreams every night, for Merlin knows how long, and he hadn't told anyone.

"I'm glad you told me, Harry. No one should have to suffer through something like that on their own - let alone someone as young as you, who's already been through so much," Sirius's spoke gently, trying to channel his inner Remus. Remus had a way of speaking, especially when someone was upset, that could soothe and reassure them more with a single word than Sirius could with a whole bloody speech. It seemed to work, though, as Harry's shoulders visibly relaxed, and he loosened his grip on his knees.

"You're not- you're not angry, are you?" Harry asked hesitantly, searching Sirius's face for any sign of hostility.

"Why would I be angry?" Sirius asked, unmissable concern in his words.

"Well, Uncle Vernon always was - when I woke him up, or when I was tired the next day… but you're not angry." It was less a question and more of an observation.

"Of course I'm not! And you're uncle shouldn't have been either!" Sirius spat the words with venom, his hatred for Harry's muggle 'guardians' resurfacing. Harry flinched at his tone. Visibly flinched. Like he thought…

Sirius wasn't stupid. He'd experienced enough first hand in his early years to recognise the signs. He'd known that Harry was mistreated at Privet Drive, but he never, even for a moment, thought that….

"Harry, your… relatives… they don't- do they… hurt you?"

Harry's eyes widened, his tone panicked and anxious when he spoke, "What? Of course not! They're… I mean, they're strict, but- only when I deserve it!" The words came out in a hurried, garbled string.

Sirius sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Harry, I need you to understand something. I don't know what went on at Privet Drive behind closed doors, what you went through living with those muggles, and I'm not going to force you to talk about it if you don't want to. But whatever they did, and whatever they told you, no matter what reason they gave, you did not deserve it. So don't for one moment think you did." Sirius met Harry's gaze, placing a hand on his cheek and forcing a reassuring smile onto his face.

"I will never, ever be angry with you for something that you cannot control. It's okay to struggle sometimes - it's to be expected, considering everything you've been through. No one can be fine all the time, and that's okay. And if you ever want to talk, or if you need a distraction, or even if you just want to sit and stare at the wall for a while - I am always here, and I will always listen. No matter what. Okay?" Sirius's smile became genuine when Harry nodded, and gave him with most real smile he had seen on the his godson's face since he'd arrived at Grimmauld Place.

"Thank you." He whispered - and he meant it.

"No problem, kiddo," Sirius whispered back, retracting his hand. He got up from the bed, his joints creaking and popping as he stood. He made a song and dance of stretching his back, groaning dramatically. Harry didn't laugh, as Sirius had hoped he might, but he definitely smirked slightly at his over-the-top display.

"It's still early - do you want to try and get back to sleep for a few hours?" Sirius asked, glancing out of the window. The sun was only just starting to peep over the horizon, shadows retreating as the sun's light drew closer, bathing the fields and meadows in a pale golden glow.

Harry looked hesitant, but after a moment's consideration, he nodded. Sirius smiled briefly. "Okay. You know where I am if you need me - wake me up if you need anything, okay? Harry nodded again in response.

Sirius was just turning to leave when Harry spoke from behind him; "Sirius? Was it… I mean, if I hadn't grabbed the cup- if I'd withdrawn, or if someone else had beat me to it- would he… would Voldemort still have been able to return?" Harry fiddled with his hands as he spoke, staring at a spot on the duvet.

It didn't take a genius to understand the meaning behind those words, and it broke Sirius's heart in two.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry. I mean it," he added at the look of uncertainty on Harry's face. "Even if you hadn't ended up in the graveyard that day, Voldemort would have found another way. And Cedric would not have been spared - he was just as close to winning as you, and even without you with him, the port key would have taken him to the same place; and I highly doubt he would have been allowed to leave that graveyard alive. Even without Voldemort returning."

Sirius's words did little to ease the burning guilt in Harry's chest - the flames that had been consuming him since that day, eating away at his sanity little by little, rendering him an empty, burnt out husk. However, Harry was comforted by the fact that Sirius didn't blame him, because maybe, just maybe, that meant others felt the same way. Maybe.

Harry smiled, a small but genuine smile, and slid his legs under the duvet. Sirius took this as his cue to leave, and bid Harry goodnight before walking out into the corridor and back to his room. Harry noticed that he had left the door slightly ajar, and fought the urge to get up and close it. He didn't need to lock the doors here when he slept - he was safe.

Safe.

It was with that thought in his head that Harry switched off the light, curled up under the duvet, and laid his head down on the pillow. Safe.

For the first time since the graveyard, Harry fell asleep without fear. He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, a smile on his face.

Safe.

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