The Sweetest Days (A Snarry Mpreg)

Part II.

Chapter 2: The Weasley-Malfoys

Warning: Language

14 years later

Approximately one week after Harry's  fourteenth birthday

Harry lay flat on his back breathing hard as though he had been running. With a jolt he sat up straight, covered in sweat. He let his head hit the pillow again; laying there in the darkness of his room, he had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed to his face. The scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin. He sat up, one hand still on his scar, and the other reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which were on the bedside table. He put them on and his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by the faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the door from the outside in the hallway. Harry ran his finger through his scar again; It was still painful. He turned on the lamp beside him, and scrambled out of bed, crossed the room, opened his wardrobe, and peered into the mirror on the side of the door. A skinny boy of fourteen looked back at him, his bright green eyes puzzled under the untidy black hair. He examined the lightning bolt scar of his reflection closely. It looked normal, but it was still stinging. Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about before he had awoken. It had seemed so real. There had been two people he knew and one he didn't. He concentrated hard, frowning trying to remember. The dim picture of a darkened room came to him. There had been a snake on a hearth rug, a small man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail and a cold, high voice, the voice of Lord Voldemort. Harry felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into his stomach at the very thought; the door to his bedroom opened causing him to jump. "Dad!" Harry breathed out a heavy sigh relief flooding over his already tense body. "You scared me."

"Sorry son, didn't mean to frighten you," Arthur paused staring over at his son's frightened features. It wasn't the first time he'd heard or seen Harry up in the middle of night, but it was the first time he'd seen the boy so out of his element. You alright, you look like you've seen a ghost?!" Asked Arthur.

Harry looked back at the older man who had red hair that was beginning to slightly gray.

"Yeah, I'm good. Did I wake you?" Harry looked back in the mirror. His scar was still hurting considerably, but he wouldn't tell his parents quite yet, not when they were already so worried about his well-being and mental state. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh yes, everything's fine, you didn't wake me. I was just getting home and I heard you get up. I wanted to make sure are alright." The older man paused and looked at Harry. It had been fourteen years since they (his husband) had adopted Harry into their family. "Everything's fine, your papa and your siblings are fast asleep. What are you doing up so early in the morning?"

"Bad dream!" He said nonchalantly as if it was the most normal thing for him. There was silence between them as Harry's father moved closer to him. He gently placed a finger on the scar (causing Harry to wince. No one had touched his scar before: except him and his headmaster. Albus Dumbledore).

Arthur smiled, trying not to let his worries show on his face. He gently brushed a fallen hair away from Harry's eyes. "Want to talk about it?"

"Maybe in the morning, I'm still tired and you should get some sleep yourself; Merlin knows what the Ministry has for you tomorrow."

Arthur sighed, "I don't want to leave unless I know yo..."

"I'm fine." Harry says cutting his father off, "I promise. Papa is probably wondering where you are." Harry said moving closer to the door. The last thing he needed right now was to have an in depth conversation about his dream.