I Can't Carry This Anymore

Harry expects nightmares when Madam Pomfrey refuses to give him any more Dreamless Sleep. What he doesn't expect is to have his first soulmate dream only days after Voldemort returned. He would've preferred the nightmares. The dream is clear and vivid, revealing a figure both familiar and terrifying—the one whose life is intertwined with his, yet who represents ultimate darkness. Harry begins to experience what should be sweet and comforting soulmate dreams, but due to the identity of his soulmate, they become twisted and agonizing. Each awakening brings resistance and despair against the truth. When the Dark Lord's return unveils the supposed ultimate bliss—yet cursed—soul connection between Harry and Tom Riddle, how will Harry confront this cruel jest of fate? Can he accept this undesired "soulmate," or will he become utterly lost in this entanglement?

I Can't Carry This Anymore

Harry expects nightmares when Madam Pomfrey refuses to give him any more Dreamless Sleep. What he doesn't expect is to have his first soulmate dream only days after Voldemort returned. He would've preferred the nightmares. The dream is clear and vivid, revealing a figure both familiar and terrifying—the one whose life is intertwined with his, yet who represents ultimate darkness. Harry begins to experience what should be sweet and comforting soulmate dreams, but due to the identity of his soulmate, they become twisted and agonizing. Each awakening brings resistance and despair against the truth. When the Dark Lord's return unveils the supposed ultimate bliss—yet cursed—soul connection between Harry and Tom Riddle, how will Harry confront this cruel jest of fate? Can he accept this undesired "soulmate," or will he become utterly lost in this entanglement?

The dormitory was silent, save for the rustle of bedsheets as Harry jolted awake, drenched in sweat. His lips still tingled from the dream—a soft voice whispering his name, a hand cradling his face, a kiss filled with longing. Not a nightmare. Worse. Because it felt right.\n\nHe stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, refusing to meet his own gaze in the mirror. Three nights in a row now. Three dreams of warmth, of belonging, of him. Madam Pomfrey had refused him more Dreamless Sleep. 'Magical dependency,' she’d said. As if mere sleep could fix this.\n\nRon stirred behind him. 'You okay, Harry?'\n\nHarry clenched the sink. How could he explain? That the person he was supposed to destroy was also the one his soul kept reaching for? That every dream pulled him closer to the one thing he was born to defeat?\n\nA sharp pain flared behind his scar—not agony, but awareness. Somewhere, far away, Tom Riddle had just woken up… and smiled.