Title: Dreaming of Sound

Rating: T (may go higher)

Disclaimer: I am J.K...Bow to me! Ok...maybe not. Someone save me from the scary people's! I own nothing but the plot and recreation of this universe.

Warning: There will be Slash in later chapters. That is Boy and Boy relations! Just so you know. I'm sorry if you don't like this. I am also sorry for any spelling mistakes. All my fault it would seem.

Harry was an orphan. His parents having been dead for the past fifteen years, Harry had given up hoping, that maybe, maybe; had stopped asking the question 'Was there?...'; had stopped asking 'Why'. He knew that there was no reason behind it, it just happened. His life just happened. Fate seemed to have deemed it necessary to find every way it could to abuse him. He had gotten over them. Being at Hogwarts had been the only good thing in a life of pain. Now that was leaving him, just like everything else.

He had found his way to Hogwarts thanks to Dumbledore. He had known Harry's parents and had taken custody of him after the crash. To Harry he was a substitute Grandfather, as near as he would ever get. He was the closest thing to family for a lot of people. Many of the students at Hogwarts, and his other schools as well, looked up to him, believed him to be unstoppable, always there. Harry knew nothing last's forever.

For the first few years of his life at Hogwarts he was cared for by Nurse Pomfrey, a lovely lady in her late forties who had worked with the younger generations that had entered Hogwarts, for years. She had taken a particular liking to Harry, with his large green eyes and messy black hair. Harry was often told, when ever he happened to meet up with Nurse Pomfrey, that as a child his mannerisms had been polite and shy and that she had no idea how he had grown up to be the way he was. Harry always said it had been her gentle mothering that had done the trick, accompanied by a charming smile.

Many people had been in looking to adopt, but Harry was always passed over. Sure he was cooed at and 'Aww, isn't he adorable', but never taken home. He was too distinct, too different. He didn't look enough like them. Messy black hair was not a common trait amongst most people. And neither were gorgeous, big green eyes. Also he was sure, the lightning bolt shaped scar that marred his forehead didn't help any. So he stayed put, never leaving. He watched as all of his friends and room mates left to better lives, never taking him with them, even after promising they would during late night conversations under the blankets. He was one of the longest staying residence at Hogwarts, not including the professors, although, Harry was sure that if he tried hard enough he could out stay (and probable outlive) most of them.

A few years ago, Harry had a friend. His name was Neville. He and Harry had been friends for just over a year, when suddenly, Neville was gone. Like a mosquito bite Harry didn't register that it had happened until it started to itch. Or in this case, hurt. He swept through it, being taken by the tide and floating, remained floating. Harry blamed himself. He hadn't cried. He didn't feel that he deserved the relief.

Only one of his friends was around to know about it, but he didn't know of Harry's involvement; would never know.

Harry's sleep was restless at best. Nightmares haunted him. Accusing faces and harsh words beat at him inside his head. Never letting up, even when he pleaded for forgiveness. He did not know that he cried out into the night. That he was actually heard.

When his dreams gave rest and he sprung to life, clutching hands and a tired face greeted him. They smiled down at him, and he didn't know why. Shouldn't they hate him for what he did to another human being? Couldn't they see that it was his fault that someone was dead? He could feel the hot tears streaming down his face. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close, maneuvering his face to nestle against the bridge between their neck and shoulder. Harry grabbed onto the persons shirt with both hands, clung to it, planning to never let go. The arms draped across his back slide down to enfold his waist. Harry didn't want to cry, never wanted to cry, but he couldn't stop the moisture leaking from his eyes. Harry didn't want to let go; couldn't let go. His grief and self-hatred went on unabated by his fierce tears. Harsh sobs wracked his body and the gentle hug he was enfolded in grew tighter.

The ache inside his chest strengthened, becoming almost unbearable. To keep breathing was an effort in itself. Chest constricting Harry had to force the air out, and back in, between the spasms of his muscles as he fought against himself. Harry's head hurt from lack of oxygen and the tenseness of his muscles. Squeezing tightly to the material between is fingers he brought himself closer to that small amount of comfort that he was receiving, wanting to not need it but knowing he did. Eyes shut tight he pressed it all down, again and again, until these foreign emotions broke and hide themselves, to far away to reach with conscious thought. He didn't think he could have kept pushing it away much more, he was so tired.

As his sobs and sudden lack of control subsided Harry put things to order inside his head. Okay, he had a sudden out burst. Okay, he was now being hugged by someone; he assumed it was a friend as the hug didn't feel awkward or the body unfamiliar. Yes, he had cried. That was going to come back to haunt him, he was sure. He felt ashamed of himself, for letting it go, even though he knew he couldn't have stopped it. It had been a long time coming. He could adapt though, he had learnt how to lie, how to cover weakness at a young age.

The arms surrounding him lessened their hold slightly, leaving enough room for Harry to comfortable remove his head from the persons shoulder. He didn't look up, couldn't meet their eyes. Those eyes so full of shame and hatred, he was sure. A low sigh escaped his chest and echoed faintly in the quiet room. He noticed his hands were trembling. The friendly stranger moved gently to place a soft kiss to the top of his stubborn locks. A loving kiss, faint and subtle, its worth was completely understated. Harry suddenly felt like crying again. He hadn't known such a simple thing as a kiss atop his head to create such a reaction from him, could break his walls away and tear them down like pieces of so much soaked cardboard. It wasn't the kiss that was the trigger; it was the emotion behind it. The love, unyielding, strong and ever present, in every movement of that friendly stranger. Harry had never really felt love, not like this. It was a friend's love, someone who would always be there. Harry felt undeserving.

The stranger's warmth scalded Harry's skin, the cold of the night much more familiar. The moons light shone in through the semi open window, only to be blocked by the light curtain covering it. A slight glow resonated from the piece of material, giving some light to the small room. It fluttered when a breeze passed through, but otherwise remained still. You could just glimpse the sky outside when it moved. The stars were bright that night, the sky an empty darkness only broken by the curve of the moon. He attempted to ignore his present situation for staring at the curtain, attempting to catch a glimpse of the night-time lights.

Harry lay in the persons embrace for many moments. He lost track of the time as he just lay there, didn't have the energy to try and pull away. He couldn't remember resting his head down on their broad shoulder once again, but that was where he found it now. The stranger had started whispering sweet nothings into his ear, softly, making it difficult to understand, even if Harry had been coherent. He didn't bother questioning. He just sat, warm and comfortable in another's embrace. He could feel their breathing, chest pressing against his. Their fingers flexed and relaxed against the base of his back. Arms still tightly wrapped around him, like a straight jacket for his insanity. The stranger gently nuzzled the back of his head with their face. He could feel their nose and cheek rubbing his hair.

He couldn't stop it. A whimper escaped his throat. Not loud enough for anyone else to hear had he been a safe distance away, but the stranger heard. The arms surrounding him tightened gently. Another kiss was placed atop his head. The stranger started to gentle rock the both of them, back and forewords. A gentle rhythm that slowly lulled Harry to sleep. One small question intruded on his quiet moment of peace. He wanted, no needed, to know who it was that he had broken down in front of. Who had touched, and held him even after hearing his cries. Who let him sob into their shoulder during the dead of night. Who loved him enough to care, to stay.

He fell to sleep still questioning.

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