Cheers, Potter.

Thank you, Professor.

Hi guys, I'm putting a serious warning on this chapter, so anyone triggered by graphic injury detail, PTSD, and/or suicidal thoughts, please DO NOT read this chapter. Thank you ~ Em

~Ω~

Harry's POV

"Harry?" My friend's voice broke through my thoughts. I'd drifted off mid-conversation again and I could tell that Ron had started to get sick of it.

"Are you okay, mate? You're not yourself," Neville asked from the other side of the dorm, fiddling with some plant or another on his bedside table.

"I'm fine," I lied, "just not getting much sleep,"

The last part was true, I hadn't been sleeping; for months now I'd been surviving on energy potions and simple charms to make myself look healthier than I was. I was having nightmares again. I knew there was no real danger lingering behind my eyes as I slept, but they felt just as real as the ones I was having when Voldemort was around. I woke up in a cold sweat more often than not, Seamus had woken me up more than once because I'd been screaming, and Ron had been getting the brunt of my irritability since he was around me the most. He'd been taking it on the chin, but I could tell it was wearing him down.

"You need to see someone about this, Harry," Dean suggested from his perch at the end of Seamus' bed. It had been suggested before but I'd always waved it off.

"Seriously, Harry, maybe you should see if Slughorn can brew you a sleeping draught," Ron put in, obviously concerned.

"If you won't do it for you, at least do it for us," Seamus added playfully, "your midnight screeches don't do anything for my sleep pattern."

"Yeah, you've got a point." I laughed weakly, "I'll go to see him tomorrow,"

~Ж~

I opened my eyes and I was on the ground in the courtyard, I could barely see three steps in front of me it was so foggy. My heart was pounding, my lungs felt heavy with dread and something else, my entire body ached and my eyes stung as I began to walk forwards.

I tried to shout for someone, I didn't even know who, just whoever could help me out of the bleakness. I continued on, trying to find my way out of the fog and I fell. I couldn't see what it was that had tripped me, but somehow I knew.

I crawled towards the mound, reaching my hands out, keeping my eyes low, and bracing myself for what I would find. I had no chance of being prepared for this.

Hermione lay in front of me, her arm bent at an unnatural angle, her skin protruded and was purple where it had broken. Blood pooled at her ears, her eyes were open but unresponsive and dark. I held her face in my hands, shouting for her to wake but I knew it was futile. I went to grab her and realised there was someone draped across her, either protecting or mourning her, I couldn't tell.

It was Ron, his back was singed, blood red and raw; he wasn't moving. He was holding Hermione's hand. I lifted my head for only a moment to scream out my sorrow and I realised it wasn't foggy at all, it was smoke. The castle was burning down... with us inside.

I grappled around, I didn't know what for – perhaps looking for someone, anyone living – but found only the sunken, mangled corpses of my friends, those who had become my family. They were huddled, trying to keep each other safe. And atop them all, smiling victorious, was him. Voldemort.

~Ж~

"Harry! Harry, wake up! It's a dream, it's not happening! Wake up!" Ron implored, willing me to wake up. He was shaking me when I finally did, flailing for something to hold onto, something to ground me. I found Ron, perennial at my side and held onto him with all the strength I could muster.

He held me right back, making sure I was okay before letting me go, "Do you want to sit downstairs for a bit?"

I nodded, catching my breath and Ron grabbed a couple of blankets.

~Ж~

The next morning I missed my first class to go and find Professor Slughorn since I knew he usually had a free period in the morning.

"Harry, m'boy!" he greeted cheerily when I knocked on his office door, "come in, come in. How are you?"

"Actually Professor, that's why I'm here," I began, "I'm not sleeping well and I was wondering if you could help me."

"Oh, of course, I'll see what I can do," he gestured for me to sit opposite him and offered a cup of tea, I declined. "So what is it that's been causing your sleeplessness if I may ask?"

"Well, I've been having nightmares, about the war, and my friends. They're always..." my throat closed up and I coughed to dislodge the lump that had formed. Slughorn seemed to understand, he nodded sombrely. "I'm always too late to save them, it's terrible."

"Hm, yes. Well, I'd be worried if you weren't feeling the side-effects of recent events Mr Potter," he assured, "not many could live half the horror you've seen and stand to go on."

There was a silence, I wanted to say I don't think I can stand it anymore, sir, but I kept that to myself.

"Now," he said, sensing the unease in the air, "let me think." He stood from his desk, wandering to his potions stores, "I don't think a sleeping draught will be too useful here, nor a drowsiness potion, no. We need something stronger, a bit more specific perhaps."

He turned towards me, not seeming to find what he was looking for, "I believe a Dreamless Sleep Potion is what you require, but I don't seem to have any spare."

"That's okay, sir," I stood beginning to leave, "thank you anyway."

"I'll tell you what, Harry," he was in front of me now, one hand on my shoulder, "I'll brew a bottle or two for you this afternoon, stop by here before dinner this evening. Our secret." He winked and patted me on the back.

As I left I felt a weight lift off of me. Like something had changed and had gotten better. As small an act as it was, asking for Slughorn's help felt like a great feat but somehow like it was a step in the right direction.

~Ж~

I attended the rest of my classes that day, but I wasn't really there. I was too tired to focus on anything much. I was for better or worse, a zombie, hardly registering faces, voices or words. It was just as well when the day ended and it was time for dinner.

I made a beeline for the Potions Master's office and I had barely knocked before he opened the door a vial in hand. He gave it to me without a word, "Drink it when you're in bed already. We don't want you dropping in the middle of the corridor, hm?"

"Thank you, Professor," I willed him to know just how much I meant it, "really, thank you."

I decided to skip dinner that evening and headed straight to the dorm.

When I got there I wasted no time at all, I glugged the vial down and laid on my bed – clothes, shoes and all – and had the most quiet, peaceful, restful slumber I'd experienced in months.