In the dead of night
Harry was tossing around in his sleep, trapped in the middle of a nightmare. He was back there.
There was a loud crash downstairs followed by a loud, angry „Girl! Come here this instant!“
He was not a girl.
"Coming Uncle!“ he shouted back as he got up from his position on the dusty, old floor.
When he was on the top of the staris, he saw his uncle standing at the bottom, purple faced. He gulped and slowly started going down the stairs, trembling a little. A meaty hand grabbed his, already bruised, skinny arm.
"What did you do girl?!“ Huh?
"I didn't do anything, I swear! I was in my room all day, I-“
Slap
"Stop with the rambbling, girl! I don't want to hear your petty excuses. I don't care what that Dumbles guy says, you're outta here!“
"B-but Dumbledore said… I have to be here, otherwise-“
"I said SHUT UP!“ he interupted him, muttering somethig while he- NO! Uncle Vernon took out his belt and grabbed Harry by his shoulder, spun him around and pressed his front against the wall. Merlin not again.
And so it began all over again. Harry had a feeling he'd collapse if his Uncle didn't stop soon. He felt so helpless.
Just as Vernon was fnished lecturing him, he spun him araound and his eyes met the ones of none other than Amos Diggory. "You are just a waste of space, Potter. A burden we all have to carry. We all risk our lives for you, and this is how you repay us? You took away my favorite person from me. You are a failure,“ he said in a low, angry whisper. "That's right, Harry,“ said the other voice somewhere behind Mr. Diggory. "You loved me. Why did you kill me?“ Cedric. It was Cedric.
"I- Im sorry, I-“
"-didn't mean to?“ Said a female voice to his left. "Are you sure, Harriet? I gave my life for you and you go around killing people. Your father and I are so disapointed with you. We are so ashamed that we gave birth to a little ungrateful monster. You shoud kill yourself, just like you killed us,“ his mother said, finishing the sentence with one big, nasty, ear-to-ear grin.
"NO! No, I- MUM, THATS NOT WHAT I- IM SO SORRY, I-“
"Save us your meaningless apologies, Harriet. You already showed us how ungreatful you really are. Snape was wrong. You‘re nothing like me. You‘re disgusting. I‘m ashamed to be compared to someone as obnoxious as you,“ said his father, joining his mother in smiling nastily.
No! They didn't understand! It was nothing like that. But- what if they‘re right? Was he just an ungrateful brat and-
"WHY DID YOU KILL ME HARRY?“
"Why are you so selfish?“
"You are nothing“
"You deserve nothing“
"You're nobody“
"GIRL!“
Please stop.
"Ungrateful…“
"You should kill yourself“
There was a cold, humorless laugh that awfuly reminded him of Voldemort, and then-
"NO!“
He woke up on the floor of an unfamiliar bedroom, panting. He gasped for air, but nothing came in. He gripped the hem of his ovesized T-Shirt and tried desparately to calm down. No, not now! He didn't have a panic attack since the Third Task last year! Why was it happening now? He had to calm down. He had to.
Oh right. He was staying with Snape.
Okay. It's okay. He could touch his T-Shirt, and now he just had to move his hand futher to touch his bare legs. It's not that hard. There. Cold. His legs were cold. Now the floor. Good. He could smell fresh summer air and feel the wind brushing his face. He could feel the sweat dripping from his head and hair to his forehead. Disgustng. He was disgusting. When even was the last time he had taken a shower? A week? Two weeks? Merlin.
Just as Harry was about to get up from the cold floor, he heard loud footsteps and the door of the bedroom banged open. In the doorway stood Snape, his usually stoic features softened by a flicker of, what, concern (?) in his dark eyes.
"Potter! What are you-?" Snape's voice trailed off as he took in the scene before him, his expression shifting from anger to confusion. Harry stood frozen, panic, once again, rising in his cheast as he looked up at the man in front of him.
"What in the name of Merlin are you doing on the floor in the middle of the night, Potter?"
Harry swallowed hard, struggling to find a plausible excuse. "I... I just couldn't sleep," he mumbled, avoiding Snape's piercing gaze.
Snape's eyes narrowed, clearly not convinced. "Couldn't sleep? And you thought the floor was a more comfortable alternative to your bed?"
Harry felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's not what it looks like," he muttered, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Snape's expression hardened and took a step closer, his gaze never leaving Harry's. "Do not insult my intelligence, Potter. Something happened. If you're foolish enough to lie to me, at least put some effort into it."
Harry remained silent and Snape sighed, "Get up, Potter," he said, his voice now lacking its usual bite. "Sitting on the cold floor will do you no good."
Harry hesitated but then slowly rose to his feet, still feeling the dread in his stomach from the nightmare.
"Why did you kill me, Harry?"
"Do you require a calming draught?"
Harry reluctantly met Snape's gaze for a brief second and then shook his head. "No, sir."
"Go back to bed," Snape ordered, though his tone was far from harsh. "And if this happens again, Potter, you will inform me. Understood?"
Harry nodded, too overwhelmed to argue. "Yes, sir," he replied, making his way back to his bed. And so he was alone again.