Harry Potter Oneshots

Grimmauld Place

Harry groaned softly in his bed and flopped onto his other side, decisively pulling up the sheets to his shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut, hard enough for white dots to fizzle at the edges. Barely thirty seconds passed when he knew that it was futile. There was simply no way he could fall back asleep. After Mrs. Weasley had chased the twins out of his and Ron's temporary bedroom, his exhausted body had fallen asleep without his mind's consent; his mind had wanted to stay up late into the night discussing all they had learned from the Order. Now, it seemed that his mind had won out over his body's feeble defense and was forbidding his stiff joints from falling back into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

Frustrated, he flipped onto his back and let his hand fall onto his chest. He tried to blow out a breath and shut his eyes while he counted his breaths... in... and out... in... and out. But it was just no good. His mind was ringing with Sirius' ominous warning and the fact that Voldemort was searching for a weapon. Something he didn't have last time. Not only that, but he couldn't ignore the small pool of sweat that he was laying in. So instead, he shoved off his damp sheets and swung his feet over the edge of the mattress.

The faded carpet felt stiff under his bare feet and he softly padded over to the bedroom door, peeling it open as quietly as he could and stepping onto the cold wood of the hallway floor. Darkness was seeping through the walls, bleeding into the shadows and blending together into a mass of hazy gray and black. Even though Harry had his glasses pressed firmly to his face, he felt as though he had left them on his bedside table based on all that he could see.

He had spent less than twelve hours in number 12 Grimmauld Place so he was forced to rely fully on his hand that was trailing along the wall to guide him towards the staircase. His foot hit the metal leg of a decorative table and a vase of dried flowers rocked threateningly on its surface, the clanging sound seeming magnified in the silence of the house. Harry hastily reached out and steadied the vase while lifting up his bare foot and clutching it with his other hand. Harry let out a whispered string of select choice words, combining the very best of the favored curses from Vernon and Ron, and hopped blindly on one foot for a few seconds until the pain receded into a dull reminder.

Reaching out in the darkness, he grasped the rail of stairs and limped down the steps, all the way to the ground floor, all the while, wishing he was allowed to cast a simple lumos spell to alight his path. But the Ministry had already placed him on trial for using a spell to save his own life as well as his cousin's, so he couldn't see them being too lenient on a matter of small convenience. Somehow, he made it into the kitchen with only one more stumble when the floor came much faster than anticipated at the slightly shorter last step.

Continuing on his tradition of misfortune, the lantern that usually lit the kitchen had gone out and if he squinted hard enough, Harry could just make out the dull outlines of kitchen chairs sitting skewed along the table, posing even more obstacles for him to dodge. All for a warm drink to soothe a restless sleep.

He grabbed onto the back of the first chair and shoved it under the table, grimacing as the legs screeched across the wooden floors. He shoved the second away from him and made his way past the last few, trying his best to limit the shrieking protests of the chairs. Harry ignored the tightness in his chest that usually tortured him after waking from his nightmares that were starting to become quite familiar and raised a trembling hand to the first cupboard, pulling it open to find bowls and plates, but no mugs. The second cupboard proved no more fruitful. His hand reached nothing but open air, then groped around in search of the next handle and found nothing but smooth wood.

"Gah!" Harry screeched, shutting his eyes tight and raising a hand to cover his eyelids. Blinding light erupted from the door, casting a beam of brightness through the gloomy kitchen. After a moment of letting his eyes adjust, he lowered his hand slightly and squinted through the painfully bright light.