Title: Existing is My Nightmare

Chapter: 4/?

Rating: M

Pairings: Severus/Harry

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Warnings: This story will contain situations of torture, extreme violence, relationships of the homosexual and heterosexual nature, and character mental instability, as well as graphic depictions of gore, this story is AU and does not take place within the Harry Potter timeline

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Chapter Four: To Listen to the Nightmare

A long maniacal laugh echoed off the walls of the darkness, flittering and jeering at the words Albus sputtered and had fallen from his lips. He laughed, clutching his sides.

"The Nightmare King? The Nightmare King? Oh you must be kidding me! Albus you bumbling old fool, you could never be more wrong!"

He once again moved to look through Harry's eyes, gazing out at the man humans considered the fountain of knowledge. How often man forgot, that humans did not know everything.

"The Nightmare King?" Severus sneered, "Albus it sounds like a story you tell frightened brats so they behave."

Albus leveled a look at the Potions Master, reminded of how young he still was and how old he was becoming.

"You should know better Severus, a myth or legend has some root in fact."

"And this root? This legend?" he scowled.

Albus closed his eyes and Severus tightened the grip on his tea-cup.

"The Nightmare King was once a wizard like you or I. But he dabbled in magic that was darker than the night. He learned to control magic that festered from black, twisted souls of convicts, murderers, those who were rightly condemned. He became able to wield that sick magic to his will, becoming the most twisted in process. He seeped into the minds of wizards and muggles alike, left them a hapless shell maddened and broken. Merlin finally stopped him, but..." Albus sighed as he opened his eyes, "Such a vortex of cruelty does not simply disappear, especially when it gained him immortality. It is speculated that every Dark Lord in existence is visited by him, guided by him. Some even think he is their real father."

"And Potter killed Voldemort, what does he want with him? Revenge? It can't merely be that or he would have come after you."

The old headmaster nodded and Severus sipped the tea he had been handed.

"It is my belief that he desires him as his high consort."

Severus scowled deeply, not willing to look at Potter. The boy was an unwilling factor at the heart of all things. Perhaps it was a curse from his fool of a father who desired nothing but the spotlight when he had lived. This Nightmare King had tried to kill Severus, would have succeeded in fact had the boy not interfered.

"Is there anything we can do to stop him?"

There was a long silence between them and Albus removed his glasses, pressing aged fingers to his eyes. Severus' eyes narrowed.

"I don't know," Albus whispered.

The Potions Master took a deep breath and set his tea aside, looking at the man so many exalted. He was standing there, tired, weary, and at the end of his ropes, they all were.

"What... will happen to Potter?"

"From what I've gathered," Albus took a deep breath, "he will try and twist Harry's soul. He will attempt to destroy it into little pieces that he can then mold into one similar to his own."

Severus eyes widened.

"The... attempted murders..."

Another nod from Albus, solemn and weary, aged and tired.

"And while Harry is fighting against it... if Harry were to successfully kill someone... Then..."

"Then the twisting will really begin," Severus let out a suffering sigh, his tea cold now. "Albus we can't have him near the students, not when this King wants Harry to commit murder. We shouldn't have him near you!"

"Sever -"

But Albus was unable to finish whatever thought he was about to say for Minerva and Minister Fudge - who was surrounded by six Aurors - entered the infirmary. Minerva sought out Albus' eyes whilst the buffoon Fudge looked upon them all with haughty and undeserved superiority.

"So what's this then?" Fudge started, daring to try and control the situation which he knew nothing about. "Mr. Potter will be tried for several counts of attempted murder as well as destruction of property and spell use outside of school."

Severus could ring that man's throat, disgusted by him. He made to stand up to leave but Albus rested a hand on his shoulder while he landed a cool and calm gaze on Cornelius. He smiled in such a way that would soothe a tantrum-flinging brat.

"Now Cornelius there is really no need for that. You were made aware and involved in the situation at hand because we need you."

Albus bolstered to Fudge's avarice and vain stupidity, no one beyond the Minister truly felt he was to be involved.

Minerva, the shrewd lioness she was, eyed the Minister before turning to the headmaster, solemn.

"Albus," she whispered, "what..."

"Allow me to explain the situation at hand my dear Minerva," Dumbledore's voice was somber but as he - the Nightmare King - looked through Harry's eyes he witnessed Albus release his power among them, calming them. "Harry Potter's very soul is in danger."

Within the precious one he snorted in amusement. The old fool was always one for dramatics. He watched as Severus rolled his eyes and the filthy pus of a Minister try to fake compassion for the precious one.

The Nightmare King pulled away from the surface, closing Harry's eyes and letting the spell drop and his body fall back to the infirmary bed. The fool headmaster had only gotten one thing right, if he got the precious one to commit a successful murder, than everything would truly begin. A slow grin pulled across his cold lips as he went back into Harry's mind, deep into the nightmare the others had created. A long chuckle slipped past the seams of his mouth as he gazed around at the gray-corpse sky and the long wave of dead bodies. He filled his lungs with the stench of decay as he watched and listened to the beautiful screams as the corpses attacking Harry had just ripped out those beautiful emerald eyes.

He continued to watch for a moment as the scratched, bruised, beaten, and bloody body of the precious one struggled and fought against the ocean of corpses with ferocity, refusing to give in and just drown. But, as he needed Harry to do something, the corpses would have to have their fun another night. He snapped his fingers and the nightmare ended faster than a frightened heartbeat. He caught Harry as he was about to fall to his knees. The boy had fought but long sobs broke and echoed off the darkness around them. Beautiful tears fell from returned blood-shot eyes.

"Shh... Shh..." he soothed, his grin widened as Harry clung to him with a vice grip as he shook. He ran his fingers through the precious one's hair and along the rapidly healing skin. The spilt blood was being sucked back into him. Those scared and frightened orbs looked up at him, a sob on those peeling lips. "I'm here my precious one. See how I hold you? Hear me soothe you?" he cooed as he licked away a tear.

"I-I see you, I-I hear you," Harry whispered back, clinging and shaking as he rested his head on the shoulder of his savior.

"See me, hear me, heed me and listen. Harry, you must do something again."

"I-I must?" the boy was still confused and that confusion made him so endearing. Harry was a little featherless bird who he had plucked the feathers from, and the little bird shuddered and quivered to the warmth his hands provided so beautifully.

"Oh yes pet, do you know who is here? Who can be within your grasp at this very moment?"

"N-No," he whispered, a deep tremble wracking through his thin body as he tightened his grip. "If I do this, c-can I sleep? N-No nightmares?" he whimpered.

"If you complete this task I will allow you to sleep without nightmares," he purred back, running a nail down each vertebra. "But precious shush now and listen. Minister Cornelius Fudge is here. You will kill him Harry. You will kill him and help make the bad world a little better. You will kill Minister Fudge. You will help the bad world."

He watched as the trance already started to take hold. He was always amused by it. Once Harry actually killed someone the trance wouldn't be needed, or - at least - not one so compelling.

They rose to the surface of Harry's mind and he let Harry hear the words. He let them wash over Harry so the boy could recognize the voices, but he did not let Harry comprehend the words.

He moved to stand behind the precious one, moving his claws up to Harry's temples. His blue-tinged lips pulled wide, blood leaking across his teeth as he dug his claws in.

"Kill Fudge," he hissed in Harry's ear, licking the shell. "Snap his neck, choke him, suffocate him," he dug his nails in deeper until he heard a soft gasp. "MURDER HIM HARRY!"

His grin widened further, slicing up into his cheeks. He knew Harry's eyes dilated to such a degree that his pupils overtook the entire iris, not a speck of green left in his eyes.

The trance was in control now.

He pushed Harry to the surface of his mind completely. Harry rose up, rolling his neck as he stood with fluid grace. The shouting and screaming adults didn't notice him. But adults never noticed anything about children when it was important.

"Albus you can't!" a lioness's roar.

"Really headmaster," a calm cutting knife sliced.

No, they were not his prey. Where were you little grime?

"Harry will not go to Azkaban," an old wave soothed.

"We'll put him there for his own protection and the protection of others!" there! Fudge.

Kill him. Kill him. Destroy him. Murder him. Murder the pus who oozed and gushed and made the bad world worse. Unsightly, unseemly, destroy, remove, eradicate, kill Fudge.

He continued to walk across the stones getting closer to his fat little pustule prey and those angry adults noticed nothing, those acclaimed guards never saw him. Faster than the Aurors realized, faster than any of them realized he was upon the Minister. Within his body rose a sick pleasure as he enclosed his fingers around the pompous prick's fat neck and squeezed. He wanted the man's face to be as green as his hat.

Those beady eyes locked with his. Surprise, shock, fear held within them and he giggled in further rapture. Murder Fudge and help the bad world. Help the bad world get better. Do as he was told and no more nightmares.

No more seeing his godfather's head in his cauldron during Potions.

No more seeing the corpses of his parents and friends hanging from the rafters of the Great Hall and within the canopy of his bed.

No more hearing the hisses of Voldemort in his ear and telling him that he would become as twisted as he had been.

No more hearing how disappointed his parents were in him and wishing he were dead.

No more if only for a day, no nightmares for a day. Voldemort would stay in his grave if only for a day.

Kill him. Kill him! KILL HIM!

A scream of fury ripped past his lips as he felt his hands pried apart. He watched - as if not himself - as his own body was dragged further away from the maroon-faced Minister.

They started yelling.

"How is he awake?"

"But the potion!"

Words, utterly useless words spewed from those uncaring, bad-world adults. Kicking and growling he tried to break the hold on his arms and he heard a shout as his foot connected with a shin. Every cell in his body burned with the need to kill the Minister. But instead the Minister flew farther from him. He pulled, he tugged, he yanked. He did everything he could think of to break the hold on him.

"Get a hold of him!"

They were taking away Fudge. Farther, farther, farther. No, no, no!

He watched as the Minister was hidden behind a wall of bodies.

He had failed. His eyes widened. He stilled. He didn't breathe. He didn't blink. Finally, he filled his lungs with the smoke of a shuddering breath.

He screamed.

A torrent wave of despair destroyed his body and left it in pieces on the shore of his sanity.

Hands were clawing now, claws were scratching. The other knew. He had to know about the failure. Thick tears burned his eyes and skin as they fell.

No... No... No, no. NO! NO! NO! NO! He had to stop the nightmares and help the bad world!

Hands and claws and shouts, he clawed and tore back. He tried to piece together the cracks of his sanity again. Return it to a semblance of thought like he always did. He broke free and laughed as tears kept falling. He laughed. Only after failing he broke free.

"Restrain him!"

"You can't! The potion!"

He fell to his knees, sobbing and laughing and crying all at once. He could see the shore, his limbs laid across the sand like a beacon. He remained on his knees and looked up at the ceiling. Tears fell fast as maddened laughter popped bubbles on his tongue.

"N-No," he got out, eyes becoming aware of more than just his limbs and the Minister. He remained smiling but he screamed again, clenching his eyes tight as he doubled over, hiding his face in his hands. His tears were hot boiling water on the skin of his palms and he wanted nothing more than to cut his body to ribbons and just lay on the safe shore forever.

"Wait!" a hiss, calming, soothing cold balm on his hot boiling skin.

Gentle fingers lifted his head and he watched for a second as tears hit those fingers. Black eyes seared into him, started gathering up his limbs.

"No," he sobbed, no longer able to laugh.

"No what Harry?" that cold voice twined around his limbs and soothed the burns.

"N-No more nightmares!" he pleaded to those eyes, to that voice. "No m-more. He-Help the bad world a-and stop the nightmares!"

"How do we stop the nightmares Harry? How do we help you?"

He could feel the suffocating velvet start to tug on his mind. The other knew Harry had failed and that velvet was going to seek out those torn limbs. A sharper tug on his mind and a deep disappointed chuckle prickled with a needle's kiss against the back of his skull.

His sobs shuddered in his chest as he looked around, eyes wide, heart frantic. He prayed that the bodies would remain in their graves.

"No... No, no, no, no, no! Y-You can't!" he pleaded to the other, the one in his head.

"Calm down Harry," black eyes and a stern silk voice cooled him and kept his attention. Who... was this? A thick sob spread as the needles started to travel further in his mind. "Tell me."

"If-If I help the bad world!" he started, looking around again, seeking the corpses he knew the other favored. "The bad world is... if I help... one night... many nights... entire nights of sleep!" he shivered and pulled away but those fingers pulled him forward again.

"And how do you help the bad world Harry? What is asked that you do?"

He whimpered and shook his head as the pain in his skull increased. The other was nearing.

He was being pulled away from the shore, back down into the depths and fear bubbled up like the fleeting bubbles of his breath. He knew he had failed. He knew those eyes and that voice was asking questions and Harry was giving answers. The needles sharpened and thickened to knives.

He looked around again, choking on a sob at his foolish habit. The monsters were in his head, behind his eyelids.

He saw the silver one, a name came to him. Dumbledore. The one standing a bit a ways from him was the trusted headmaster. He closed his eyes, bowing his head as he sobbed again.

"He-Help me," he begged the man. He turned back to the onyx orbs and silken words. Eyes wide and pleading. "Help me," he whimpered.

A wordless whimper fell past his lips in easy accord as he felt corpse-cold hands on the skin of his neck and cheeks but Harry could not see them. No one saw them. He was touched and caressed and he shivered in repulsion.

"Please..." he whispered. "Please... I-I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!" he shook his head trying to convince the other. "I-I'm trying! Please."

"That's not enough my precious one. Fudge is still alive!" words crawled like spiders along his skin where those hands weren't touching him. A tongue sticky like a web licked his neck. He gulped and started to shake as if electricity passed through him.

"Harry! Harry look at me!" the silk voice urged.

"The boy has gone absolutely insane!"

"Listen to Fudge's bile, precious. So scared of you yet he will not try to help one such as you. You don't deserve help. Not from the bad world, not from anyone except me."

"I-I don't... I don't want to kill! I-I don't I don't I don't!" he shook his head so violently pain rose in his neck.

"Look at me Harry!"

"You don't want to help the bad world pet? Make it better? Make it safer?"

"Don't... The bad world isn't... Please..."

"LOOK AT ME HARRY!"

His head snapped up and he gazed into the ebony eyes. The hands lessened, the tongue pulled away. He gulped as he looked at those eyes, in them and through them. Were the eyes going to help him?

His chest heaved and he bowed his head. His vision was getting blurry, his head pounded as if a dragon raged within his skull. Beating, pulsing, he could hear his pounding heartbeat as his temples matched it in rhythm.

He had to get the words out to those eyes. Those eyes that made him better.

"Help me!" he panted, tears starting anew. "Please," he whimpered, not daring to close his eyes as they burned from the tears.

"How Harry? Tell me how?"

"Stop... Stop him!" he reached out for those eyes.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

A scream broke and bled his lips as claws and talons grabbed and tore into his flesh. Gashes appeared all along his skin like a paint-brush on a blank canvas. He continued to scream and bleed as not blood but spiders and crawling oozing darkness fell out from his wounds.

"You think the can stop ME, Harry? Do you think YOU can stop me!"

His reaching hands were slapped to the ground as the spiders wrapped their web tighter and tighter around his limbs. He whimpered as he pulled and tugged but couldn't break the silk.

"I think you and I need to have a little chat my precious one."

His eyes widened.

"N-N-No! No please! No! NO! Please! Please!" he sobbed. "I-I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! No please! Please! Please don't! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I heed you! I listen!"

"Not yet pet, not yet, but we will clear your ears."

The knife in his skull stabbed his eyes and struck him down. He fell into the black and into waiting, fang-baring arms.