Random Fandoms: Imagines & One Shots

HP - Harry Potter

Imagine you have a dark past that haunts you, only for an unexpected friend to try and save you.

Trigger Warnings: Angst, abuse

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Hiding seemed to be your best option. The fear of facing the world after everything was said and done consumed you. You didn't want to face the staring, the accusations against you, all because of who your parents were. You weren't even raised by them. Your aunt, going against your uncle's wishes, even changed your last name. No one found out the truth of who you really were until your fifth year at Hogwarts. Then everything changed. Your cousin tried to protect you from them, your aunt tried protecting you, but the pain, torture, and suffering that you endured plagued your mind and left both physical and mental scars.

The nightmares you had been experiencing kept you from sleeping at night. The fear that, although you had witnessed it yourself, that your mother was still alive and well and would find you or that your father would show up. It was one of the reasons you refused to stay at Malfoy Manor. That and the vile memories that had soaked into the walls of the home. In all intents and purposes, you were a Black. After all, it was the surname you were given when your parents were sent to Azkaban when you were nothing more than a toddler. So, after the war, you moved into Grimmauld Place and didn't leave.

While Sirius had left the home to his godson, Harry was kind enough to allow you to live there. He and Ron moved into their own flat in London, and with everything that had happened, they wanted to give you time and space to heal and cope with your new reality. A reality that didn't involve you looking over your shoulder in fear of your mother or a Death Eater coming after you. While being on your own was a sense of freedom, you didn't often leave the room that you had made your own.

Kreacher, the ever-loyal Black Family house elf, had told you it had once belonged to Regulus Black. From what you knew of Regulus, he had once been a Death Eater himself, later attempting to destroy the Horcruxes that the Dark Lord had created. A tortured soul, much like yourself. A kindred spirit, so to speak. Kreacher would often try to coax you out of the room, but you often refused. You felt safe in your room, in the darkness, blinds drawn and hidden from the world that would accuse you of disloyalty. Disloyalty to what? Would depend on the Witch or Wizard you asked. Disloyalty to the Dark Lord or disloyalty to the Order. Either way, you felt as if you had a target on your back.

For the most part, you felt as though you were coping fairly well. That is, until the nightmares became worse. You would find yourself jerking awake, screaming, a cold sweat running down your forehead and back. The scars on your arms bleeding as though your mother's tortured soul was trying to claw its way back out. Even in your isolation, you couldn't escape her rath. As much as you tried to hide all of this from Kreacher, he was smarter than he led on. The day you heard a knock on your bedroom door, a certain voice on the other side, you realized that you hadn't been hiding what was happening very well from the house elf and the fact that you continually refused to respond to your cousin's owls, you should have known someone would come knocking. you just hadn't expected it to be Harry.

You were sitting in a chair in the corner of the room near the fireplace, hiding in the shadows when Harry walked into the room. He hesitated in the doorway, looking around. You realized the last time he was probably in here was when he, Ron, and Hermione were on the run. It was definitely tidier than you had found it. You didn't bother looking over at him. You were afraid. Not of him but of what he would see. A complete and utter shell of yourself. You weren't the confident witch he knew from Hogwarts who went against the other Slytherins and joined Dumbledore's Army, the brave witch who helped him and the others escape Malfoy manor, or the confident dueler who helped save lives during the last battle. You heard him step further into the room, hesitantly making his way towards you as if he was worried he would spook you.