How to Prevent a War

Nightmares

Spindly hands ran over Harry's body, long, sharp claws pulling forth blood and screams of agony. Blood red eyes stared down at the teen, glinting in rage, hatred, and manic glee as white teeth shone in a sadistic grimace. How could such a handsome face hold such an ugly expression.

"You are mine, Harry Potter," the man hissed in a tone that Harry wasn't sure was even possible in English.

Harry tried to move away, but his bonds constricted and hissed loudly at him in warning. A giant snake coiled her massive body further around Harry's arms and chest, pinning him down on the hard, wooden floor, leaving him completely helpless against those cruel hands.

"I will take you apart and rebuild you in my image, my soul."

Harry's mind screamed in horror at those words, but the boy was too delirious with pain and fear to completely understand what his tormentor said.

"I will peal your skin away and lay you bare before me."

Harry whimpered and shook his head.

Please.

The man let out a cold, chilling laugh as his hands stopped moving. Red eyes burned deeply into Harry and the grin pulled up further, becoming so wide and sharp like that of a caricature.

"That's it. Beg me," the man hissed in glee.
"Beg me for forgiveness. Beg me for death."

Harry shook his head again.

No.

"Oh? We'll see how stubborn you still are when I'm done with you, my bothersome Horcrux."

. . . . .

Harry woke up with a start. He gasped for breath and clutched at his chest. Almost instantly, Tom was at his side, grabbing him tight and hugging him against his chest. Due to the closeness, Harry couldn't see Tom, but he could smell him. Tom smelled like parchment, ink and Earl Grey Tea while Voldemort, in whichever form he decided to appear, always reeked of blood and death.

"I'm here, Harry," Tom whispered.
"He won't ever get to you again."

"He doesn't have to," Harry whimpered.
"He's already gotten in my head and I can't-..."

"Of course you can," Tom interjected.

"No! I-I've tried to stop thinking of it, to accept that he won't be able to touch me anymore. I really try, but... I-I can't..."

Tom grunted and grabbed Harry by his shoulders, holding him at arm length as he stared sternly into Harry's eyes with his own dark ones. Not red. Definitely not red.

"Don't stop thinking about it," Tom ordered Harry to the younger's surprise.

Harry gave a squeak of indignation and leaned away from Tom with a scowl.

"What? So I should just continue to wallow and wait for someone else to fix this for me?!"

"Of course not," Tom scoffed, rolling his eyes as he lay down on Harry's bed.
"I'm just saying it's useless to waste energy on fear and self-pity. Instead, focus that energy on anger and hatred. Focus on taking him down. You'll get your revenge. We both will. He will regret having messed with us, I promise."

On a normal day, Harry would have told Tom that revenge wasn't the solution and that hatred would never come to something good. However, this wasn't a normal day and Voldemort was anything but a normal man. He was a monster and a murderer. Harry actually agreed that the man deserved to die, so he nodded and cuddled back into Tom's arms.