Theodore woke with a start. The dream. It had been weeks since he'd had it last. The more time that passed between each occurrence of the dream, the more disorienting it was. For a split moment, he found himself completely unable to move, as if he were under some sort of binding spell. Slowly, the feeling started to fade away and he was able to sit up. Again, his hair was stuck to his forehead. His skin was soaked in cold sweat. He kept his icy eyes closed as he listened to his pounding heart and tried to make it slow. He inhaled deeply through his nose and exhaled sharply through his mouth, hoping this would help; and soon it did. Eventually, his heart rate did slow. By the time, he opened his eyes, his vision was in much better shape that it usually was. It only took a few moments for his peripherals to clear and center.

Snatching his robe off of the chair near the bed, he clinched it around himself. Sleep would not return after that. He made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen where he proceeded to make a cup of tea. Tea was in his skill set. With a shaky hand, he sat the teapot on the stovetop and turned it on. While the water boiled, he moved to get a cup and a bag of tea.

The sharp whistling of the tea kettle in the silent room startled him, so much so that he almost knocked the cup off the counter. He caught the cup by the handle as it started to fall off the counter. He stiffly turned towards the stove and turned it off. Steam greeted his face as he poured the water into the cup and over the tea bag. He watched as the water started to brown. Slowly.

He'd gotten too comfortable here. He'd let his guard down too much. The dream. It was a wake-up call. Something that was sent to remind him of why he was there. He was in hiding. He shouldn't be out, with the muggles drinking coffee and listening to Clair de Lune. No. He shouldn't have been getting comfortable here. He should only have the necessities and be able to pack up and leave at a moment's notice. He had a coffee maker; a luxury, a non-necessity. He'd gotten too comfortable. No. Now his gut, his nerves, his instinct was telling him that, making sure that he knew. Being too comfortable here was a threat to his safety.

"Shit," he swore as the boiling water in the cup started to overflow onto his hand. He pulled his hand away from the cup as he lifted the kettle to the stovetop. The skin that had been exposed to the water was red and he sighed, taking the cup with him as he walked to the living room. On his way out, he poured a little off the top.

Theodore settled into the sofa in the living area, cradling the cup of tea in his hands. He relaxed back into the sofa, tipping the cup back. He could feel it coming, a headache forming at his temples. A headache didn't happen after every dream. Only when he was pulled from a deep sleep. Then the headache would come. Slowly creeping its way around his forehead until it had a vice-like grip on his head. He tried to fight it off with the tea but it didn't seem to be working. Placing the cup on a coaster, he lay his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, hoping the pressure would help alleviate the pain. He exhaled through his lips taking his hands off his eyes after realizing it wasn't helping.

Icy eyes remained closed. The soft hum on the air conditioning unit was the only sound in the house. The quiet swishing of the air through the vents was like a lullaby. Softly pushing fresh air through the house. Soothing. Sleep wouldn't come, no. But some type of restless, sleep-like state would. And that is what he let the air conditioning lull him into.

Theodore stumbled, his foot getting caught under something on the ground. Unable to regain his balance, he fell using his hands to take the impact of his fall. Instead of his hands hitting something firm, they continued falling into something wet. Water. The water splashed back into his eyes as his hands fell into it, coming to stop when the water was at his elbows. The sleeves of his cloak were soaked to his arms. Opening his eyes, he turned and looked over his shoulder towards the sounds behind him, all around him. He reached for his wand, turning and falling deeper into the water. The backs of his pants and cloak wet. Icy eyes scanned the area around him. The sounds of spell casting were so loud that he couldn't tell how close any of it was or where it was. All he knew was it was loud. It was overwhelming.

It was sharp, the pain. It came from nowhere and everywhere. The water he was in started to stain red. Icy eyes looked down. No sign of injury. However, the water around kept growing more and more red. His hands ghosted down his arms, nothing. However, there was a certain looseness in his shirt. He reached behind him, touching his back. Fingertips met frayed fabric and something wet. He pulled his fingers away and looked at them in the night. A deep red color. Blood.

His blood.

Theodore was jerked out of his sleep again. Icy eyes darting open. Twice in one night? His gut, instincts, nerves, whatever were trying to tell him something. He'd never had the dream twice in one night. Of course, it was rare that he even managed to find sleep after being awoken. A deep sigh passed through his lips as he stood. The cup of tea was cold now, the steam no longer floating off the top. He left it there as he made his way upstairs and to the bathroom. He hooked the robe on the hanger in the bathroom and started the water. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw it. A scar, long and pink against his olive skin, streaking from the bottom of his left shoulder blade to the right side of his lower back.

Proof that the dream wasn't just a dream.

Everything looked abnormal to Theodore. Everyone posed some sort of threat. That's what three hours of sleep and two dreams startling you awake would do for you. Make a person paranoid. Not that he wasn't already paranoid.

Every movement caused him to jump and on more than one occasion, he found himself reaching for his wand. The wand that wasn't there. The air conditioning turning off and on abruptly. The young boy that delivered the newspaper. The sound of the toast popping. Everything was a reason for alarm.

Being in a constant state of alarm was exhausting; physically and mentally. By the time noon rolled around he was completely drained. The muscles in his jaw were in a permanent state of clenched. The muscles in his right arm were taut, ready to reach across to get his wand, the one that wasn't there. He was wearing shoes and his muscles were tight, ready to run. Not only was he completely drained, he was starving. He'd meant to go to the shop, but the day he had planned to go it had rained and he had ditched the idea. So now he lacked food. Now he had to go out.

Sighing deeply, he left. He moved carefully down the street, but quickly. His eyes scanning everything. The woman at the end of the lane was checking her mail. Upon leaving the mailbox, she made a quick motion with her hand startling Theodore so much so that he jumped off the sidewalk. When he was sure that he was out of her line of vision, he stepped back onto the curb. Eyes still moving, taking in everything. The sound of footsteps approached him from behind. More than one set. Theodore clenched his hands in his pocket, his heart pounding. Suddenly, three muggle children ran by him, brushing against him jarring his body. His muscles tensed again. Staring the children down as they moved around him. He stopped, settling his heart rate.

By the time, he reached the Corner Café, he was even more exhausted than before. The tinkling of the bell above the door startled him, making him step into the café quickly.

"Theodore, are you alright?" He sat down at the table by the window, more alert there than ever. His startled expression had caught her attention. "Theodore?"

He opened his mouth to order, but something caught his eye. A black cloak moving from the train station. Unfamiliar. His eyes locked on it as it moved closer. A black clock. A black figure. An Auror. He clenched his fist on his lap. Done. He was done.

"Theodore."

He hadn't noticed that she was still calling out to him until she placed her hand on his shoulder. Her slender fingers wrapping around his shoulder. Her small hand radiating heat into it. He hadn't realized he'd been cold until then. She placed a cup of tea in front of him. He saw it from his peripheral vision, but he never took his eyes off the cloak. The cloak moving closer and closer.

The cloaked figure removed its hood. Messy brown hair. Dark circles under dark eyes. A middle-aged woman. There was nothing overly magical about her. She was very plain. Very… pathetic. He released a breath that he had no idea that he had been holding in.

Theodore turned his gaze from the older woman and to the barista. Concern etched her green eyes. "Do you have a sandwich on the menu?"

"You have a preference?"

"Turkey and cheese on rye," he told her.

It was then that he realized that her hand was still on his shoulder. She gave a soft squeeze to his shoulder before letting her hand fall away as she walked through the door behind the counter. The space where her hand had been was still warm, but not as much as it was when she was touching him. It was a ghost of a sensation. His gaze was on the woman in the cloak again, watching as she continued down the road.

This was draining. He slouched forward, elbows on the table. Everyone was a threat. Despite the fact that this was a muggle town. He couldn't let his guard down. Always vigilant.

"Turkey and cheese on rye," she said as she placed the plate on the table next to his tea. "Are you alright?"

When he didn't answer, she started to walk away. "Olivia," he said suddenly, his voice was loud in the quiet café. She looked startled as she turned back to face him. "Does she live around here?" he asked, gesturing to the woman in the cloak.

The barista looked at the woman walking in the lane and she frowned deeply. "Oh… Yes and no. Her husband, sent her to away. She's um, a junkie."

Theodore looked up at her reflection in the window. "Junkie?"

Her frown deepened. "She uh," she leaned down to speak. "We don't talk about it. Roslyn, that's her name. She's into smack." Her breath fluttered across his cheeks as she spoke. She took a step away from him. "Her husband told her to get help. She's been gone for a few months, I hope she's come back in a better state than when she left. She's got a little boy."

"Ah."

She tapped the plate the sandwich was on with a slender finger. "Eat, you're looking a little pale. You sure you're alright?" She moved her hand, the back of her hand approaching him. His hand moved before he could think about it. His larger hand closed around her slender wrist, making a loud slapping sound, stopping her hand inches away from his forehead. His icy eyes found hers in the glass. She looked startled. Her green eyes were wide. And that feeling. That tingling sensation. The one that radiated from the place he touched her and throughout his body. That feeling. He dropped his hand away from her wrist. "I, er, I'm sorry." She seemed to know exactly what she had done.

"No, I apologize," he sighed. "Olivia."

"Okay," she said, she started to back away from him. She looked flustered. "Well, if you need something…" She turned on her heel, moving back behind the counter where she picked up a rag and started to wipe down the surface.

Theodore ate in the silence. The sandwich she'd crafted was good. The bread was fresh, as far as he could tell. He couldn't be sure if it was due to the fact that he was so hungry or if it was actually good. He took a chance on the prior. The tea was different. He placed the cup on the saucer and looked over his shoulder at her. Confusion etching his expression.

"Chia tea with a hint of cinnamon and milk," Olivia told him without a prompt. "I figured that you would like a pick me up? But I can make something else.-"

He raised his hand to stop her. "It's," he picked the cup up again. "It just caught me off guard. It's different that's all." He turned away from her. He sighed. "Thank you."

"Of course."

"How much do I owe you?" he asked her.

"Three for the tea. The sandwich is seven. So ten pounds even," she told him

"Right," he mumbled.

"You sure you're alright?" she questioned, as she leaned on the wall behind the counter.

"I don't know," he answered quietly as he continued to look out of the window.

A/N: Heya! So I hope you enjoyed this chapter. So we finally got a chance to see a little of Theo's dream (I think there will be more), so that's exciting. I had a lot of fun writing that. Also we learned something else about Theo, right? His dream isn't just a dream, it's a memory. I forgot how much I liked writing paranoid everyone out to get me Theo, so we'll see more of that. So yeah, a lot of little stuff happening, right? Okay. Anyhow I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and you leave a review and tell me how much you loved it or if there's something you want to see happen. I have some ideas that I have gotten from some of your reviews; they're in my word document of ideas for this. So yeah, leave a review. Let me know what's up.

~ Nikki