Harry finds himself in a muggle hospital after a rather questionable run-in with a friend. Mainly DMxHP slight RWxHP
A/N: WOW, it certainly has been awhile! Well, I must say, this fic isn't going to be as gory as "Worth", my first DMxHP, but if you like this one, I expect you to read that one too! Yes, this one is going to be a lot more "lovey-dovey", with only slight "OMG I HATE YOU! DIE!" Hopefully it will be a multi-chaptered, probably about 5 or so, but let's just see how it goes… so, please enjoy-
When I Dream
Darkness surrounded him. He couldn't even see his own hand in front of his face, let alone the enemies hiding in the cold background of this black abyss. Soon they would descend upon him, he knew it.
They would come running at him with their weapons extended in their powerful grip, aiming at his smaller frame. And with those weapons, they would torture him; he didn't deserve a swift, painless death.
Knives would skin him. Hammers would break his exposed bones. And after all that, they would then saw off his limbs one by one. All the time he would plead with the one pointing the gun at his head; begging them to pull the trigger, to deliver him from this agony. They will laugh then, and it is then that he will die, finally broken.
But they did not descend. They let him cower in the darkness with only his thoughts to drive him over the edge of sanity. He wouldn't last much longer, crumpled on the ground he stayed completely still… and still he stayed; once again, he had died in his dream.
Xx………………………………………...H...…………………………………………xX
Sitting up in bed, he grabbed his chest. That was the third time that night he had awoken breathless. Reaching over to the bedside table, his slender fingers snaked their way around a glass of water. His breathing was worsening each passing night. Three times he had gone to sleep wondering if he would wake up at all.
With glasses nowhere in sight, he squinted at the wall, trying in a vain attempt to decipher the time. He hated the clocks that adorned every wall in the hospital. It seemed that they were mocking him; it seemed that they knew exactly how much longer he had to live and they would count down until his time came.
Giving up on the clocks, he turned to look out the opened window beside his hospital bed. The moon was high in the air, and stars somehow managed to twinkle through the slight clouds. Truly, it was a beautiful sight; though this night's sky was so much similar to last night's… Just the thought of the previous evening made dear Harry cringe.
Xx…………………………………………H…………………………………………xX
The Dursley's were unbearable; he just couldn't stand them another moment. So, just like the summer before his third year, Harry bravely made his way into the night. The slight breeze helped him speed even farther away from the hell he was forced to reside in every summer.
The ride to the Leaky Cauldron was uneventful; He was now used to the Night Bus, and was starting to lack the shrill excitement he once held for it. Once settled into a room, he collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to change into his nightwear, and entangled himself in the thin sheets of the inn.
With half lidded eyes, a small smile slithered onto his face and just as he was about to slip into the oblivion of sleep, loud roars of anger were heard from the main lobby. Always the hero, Harry descended down to offer his assistance.
Entering the lobby, immediately he sees his closest friend, Ronald Weasley sprawled out on the floor with books scattered about the floor around him. Harry quickly made his way over to his friend and helped him to his feet, picking up his books as well. Handing the items back to their owner, Harry gave Ron a questioning look.
Not to say that he wasn't thrilled to see Ron again, oh no, he was tickled pink about that! But where was the rest of the Weasley's? And why was Ron on the floor and with books no less!
"Thought I'd come early for school supplies before the crowds in the morning. Then I tripped over poor Scabbers here. Bloody rat's a menace!" Ron said with a smile after seeing Harry's look.
Out of the shadows the innkeeper, Tom, asked them if they were to be standing there all night. Ron turned red as he dug deep in his pockets in search of money to pay for his nights stay. When he didn't find any, he let out another frustrated groan. Our hero laughs, and offers to share his room with Ron. They were best friends; surely sharing a bed in an inn, with no supervision, late at night, when no one's listening can't be a bad thing!
In Harry's opinion, it was actually quite nice, having another body so close. There wasn't a lot of room, just enough to be comfortable. And although it was a warm evening, they kept the sheets up, like they were hiding some dark secret. That secret became clear when Ron entwined his fingers with Harry's and scooted a little closer to his chum.
Harry thought nothing of it. Sometimes Ron would climb into Harry's four-poster bed with him at Hogwarts. All he did, was tightened his grip on Ron's hand, and drifted into a light slumber, unaware of the red head's intentions.
Xx………………………………………….H…………………………………………xX
He was swimming in darkness again. Was it like this every time he
closed his eyes? Slumbers like this were never quite restful.
Squinting, once again, nothing came to his view.
Again he bravely awaited his enemies attack. Only this time a beam of light descended upon our hero, washing away all of his doubts and fears. The light upon him let him see again, even if only a little; and he spotted the enemy.
There were not hundreds, as he had thought, no, there was but only one armed figure still lurking in the shadows of his vision. And once spotted, they raised their knife and launched it at Harry's chest. Harry did not move, he let the sharp implement impale him, and he fell on his knees.
Blood splashed across the plain; all he could see was red. He was dying, and the one guilty was laughing. Their slight chuckles were muffled by his screams of agony. Looking up, Harry's eyes were filled with a different shade of red as Ron stood before him.
It all went black again, the only proof that Ron had been there at all was his constant laughing; it leaked into his ears and he couldn't shake the feeling of shame. As the laughter died down, so did Harry. He lay on his back hugging himself, alone, and slipping away…
Xx…………………………………………H…………………………………………...xX
Bolting up in bed, pain came to Harry in waves. It consumed him, and he had to lie back onto the soiled sheets of the inn. Ron was nowhere in sight, the only thing insight was the blood that covered the bed.
A feeling of shame ripped through him as he
realized what had happened. Ron did not hit him in the chest, as
Harry had seen in his dream, no, he had in fact fucked Harry while he
slept; some friend.
TBC…
Well, there's chapter one! I'm sorry that this one was only RWxHP… I SWEAR that from now on it'll be DMxHP ALL THE WAY! Please don't give up on me… D':
This one I did all by myself! No
beta or anything, so, I might fix it up after
wicked-nightmare
takes a look at it…. I LOVE YOU DUDE!
um, yeah, almost done with the rambling… Just for the record, none of the characters or places are of my own mind… I don't own them. Sorry if I ruined them for anyone.
Tell me what you think! -The H-
