Harry Potter One Shots

Lullaby

All rights belong to the author, Megsy42

Harry was having another nightmare. For the third time in a week, the man was tossing and turning in his bed, thrashing out occasionally with flailing arms and moaning in fear and objection, his expression fixed as a pained frown. Beads of sweat were appearing steadily on his forehead and neck, and his hands were clammy, curled into fists and clenching bunches of the thick duvet with white knuckles. His usually piercing green eyes were hidden by tightly shut eyelids, but their darting movements could still be seen as they flickered alarmingly underneath the thin layer, trying in vain to escape from the horrors that he was experiencing in his own mind.

Ginny had been awake for twenty minutes now, waiting to see if he would recover from the frightening condition before it got worse. He was still suffering, however, and she knew it was time to act.

The room was dark, and although Harry was not likely to wake from his distressing slumber, she didn't want to risk lighting her wand. Instead, she sat herself up, propping her pillows up against the headboard so that she could lean against them, and carefully extended her arm to feel around her bedside table. Her fingers slid over an alarm clock and across the smooth, pine wood until she found what she was looking for; a flannel. It was soft and cool, and picking up her wand, Ginny aimed a jet of water at it, drenching it in a cold, refreshing spray. She picked it up before the liquid soaked through onto the table and cradled it in her hands, feeling the wet material rubbing tenderly against her skin.

She cast another spell to ensure that the flannel would stay wet and cool, and looked over at Harry once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Even in spite the lack of light, she could see panic carved brutally across his face; hear his quiet cries of despair through his gritted teeth.

"No...no, don't, please," he beseeched to some imaginary foe, his voice strained and hoarse. "Please stop, no, no, no!" His begs were increasing with volume, and she was finding it hard to listen to. Twisting quietly underneath the sheets, she turned to face him completely, sitting so that his whole body was in her immediate view. Slowly and silently, she reached forward and pressed the wet flannel to his hot forehead, ignoring his panicky outbursts and – every so often – dexterously avoiding his wild, jerky arm movements. Keeping her hand at his brow, she moved her other one down and found his shaking arm.

"No! No, not her. Not Ginny. NO! Ginny!"

Unfazed by the sweat accumulating on his skin, Ginny slid her hand down it to his own, which was strongly balled into a fist. She pressed against him more firmly, resorting to squeezing her fingers reassuringly around his curled ones and whispering shushing noises in an attempt to help him relax. After a minute or so Harry's desperate shouts became sparser and quieter, succumbing to whimpers and sobs.

Ginny had been subconsciously rubbing her thumb across her husband's wedding ring, comforted by its smooth, faultless finish. Sighing, she brought his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers tenderly, before letting go and feeling his chest to find his heartbeat. Slipping her hand under the covers, she could sense it as if it were her own, pounding furiously and frequently like an urgent knock. It was too frequent though, too fast, too panicked. His cries began to increase in anxiety once again, and she could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly, his breathing fast but shallow. Ginny breathed deeply and pressed her hand hard against his heart, hoping the pressure would calm him and help him back to reality. It didn't.

"No! Stop it! Help! Mum, Dad, no! Help me!"

Ginny closed her eyes and took another deep breath in an effort to keep herself composed, and then opened her mouth.

"Hush, baby, don't cry," she began, her voice wavering as she sang the higher notes. She was not a born singer, but she could keep in tune and hit most of the notes on key. "Morning will come soon." She was reciting the lullaby that her mother had sung to her and her brothers as babies, when they were having trouble getting to sleep. "The sun will rise up, and light up the room." As she gained more confidence, she got louder, rising up above Harry's frantic voice. "Hush, baby, don't cry, morning is close. It'll come quicker, if you soon start to dose. It's time to sleep now, so please don't delay. When we all wake up, you can get up and play... We'll...we'll..."

For a moment her lullaby stopped, before she realised that this had been the part where she had always drifted to sleep. The lyrics eluded her, so instead she hummed what she could remember, and repeated the first verse again to make up for what she had forgotten. Harry's cries ceased more abruptly than before as her rusty but sweet melody reached his ears, and his breathing slowed to a more regular pattern, almost in time with the song's rhythm.

"Hush baby, don't cry..." she began again, extracting her hand from under the covers and stroking his cheek, his frightened murmurs dying down even further until he finally stopped uttering pleas altogether. She took the flannel and dabbed around his face and neck with it, wiping away the sweat that had amassed whilst continuing to sing as well as she could without her voice breaking. Harry's forehead had cooled, and he had definitely calmed down, his eyes no longer flitting so rapidly.

After a few more minutes of his relative silence, Ginny thought it safe to stop, and placed the flannel back on her bedside table. Repositioning her pillows in their more common position, she pulled the duvet back over herself and lay down, facing her husband and trailing her fingers down his now still arm. Maybe, with her at his side, his nightmares would be less frequent from now on.