Aftermath (Drarry)

Chapter 4: "Literal Saviour Of The Wizarding World"

HARRY:

A flash of red eyes. A flash of snake-like features. A flash of ghastly white skin. It was dark and cold. Harry was alone. He heard a frightened gasp leave his mouth but did not feel himself make it. It was as if he was separated from his body, although he couldn't see it. The darkness seemed to have mass: it was weighing down on him from all sides. His heart rate quickened, and he heard it thumping in the eerie quiet. There was a whispering in the distance - a snake hissing - a voice saying:

"Harry Potter."

The voice seemed to get closer and closer, closing in on him. The dark was a snake squeezing the life out of him until he couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe.

Harry awoke, gasping for air. He could feel his sheets twisted around him and fought to free himself as he regained control of his breathing. That nightmare was one he had often. Although he knew that Voldemort was dead, there was something so real about it that he just couldn't explain. It felt as if Voldemort was right there with him, and as if he would always be there. Deciding he would never get back to sleep after that, he reached for his glasses and his latest jumper from Mrs Weasley and padded through the dorm and down to the common room.

Only a few coals were still glowing in the fireplace as Harry sunk into a sofa in front of it, staring into the orange warmth. He had thought that once Voldemort was gone, it would be over, and he could go back to living a normal life. Not that he had ever had a normal life, but a safe life, at least. A life where he didn't have to worry about his loved ones. However, Voldemort and his death eaters may have gone, but he still felt the same fear that he had felt the last few years. Maybe it had just become so deeply ingrained into him, that he would never be able to get rid of it.

"Couldn't sleep?" The voice came from the stairs up to the dormitories, making Harry jump. He looked up to see Ron, his hair messy as if he'd been tossing and turning in bed, stood in the doorway. Harry shook his head and looked back into the remains of the fire, unsure of what to say. "Me neither," Ron said. "Mind if I join you?" Harry shook his head again and Ron came and sat down on the sofa next to him.

They sat together in silence for a few moments before Ron said, "Are you still having nightmares? Do you see You-Know-Who?"

"You know I think you can just call him Voldemort now, Ron," Harry said. "And yes. I don't think I'll ever be rid of him, to be honest."

"No," Ron replied, quietly. "Saying his name reminds me of everything that happened. It reminds me of Fred."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"No, no. You can say it. I know it helps you to feel in control. But for me, I don't think I'll ever be able to say it again. It's just too hard." Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron look down into his hands and they fell back into silence for a few minutes.

It was Ron that finally broke the silence. "I see him you know. Fred, I mean. Whenever I try to sleep I see his face. I feel like I let him down in some way. I was supposed to be helping you defeat You-Know-Who but all I did was destroy one lousy Horcrux and I still couldn't even save my own brother."

Harry was quiet for a second, shocked at Ron's vulnerability. Of course, he knew Ron was affected by the war - everyone was - but for some reason, he never stopped to consider just how much. He supposed it had been selfish of him to focus on his own problems after the war and not consider anyone else's. "That's not true, Ron, and you know it. There's nothing you could have done so stop blaming yourself. And you helped more than you give yourself credit for: it wasn't exactly easy to destroy that locket and you did save my life within that same hour."