WARNINGS:
HP/GW, SLASH LV/HPHarry was dreaming.
Darkness swirled around him, like a heavy cloak. He could feel the blindfold against his face, rubbing against his nose where his glasses should have been resting. He twisted his arms about, trying to get up, only to feel silken scarves bound around his wrists, not allowing for much movement. His feet however were free, as he moved them around, the soft sheets rubbed against his bare skin.
As something cold touched his belly gently, he stilled immediately. It trailed upwards first, to rub at a nipple gently, before continuing its journey upwards, drifting over his chin before tracing around his lips.
"I miss you, pet," came a soft, strangely sorrowful voice from somewhere above him.
The finger pressed against his lips and, powerless against the force of the dream, Harry parted his lips and licked the finger softly.
A sad sigh was heard, echoing around in his head. More fingers joined the single one on his face and, with surprising gentleness, slipped the blindfold from his eyes. Harry opened his eyes slowly, blurs the only thing he could see. Nevertheless, one blur stood out from the others. This one was pale white,
(like paper) the voice in Harry's head whispered.
and as this Blur approached, its glowing red eyes came into focus. Its mouth curved downwards and opened.
"Come back to me, pet," the Blur said lowly, voice so full of sadness that Harry was tempted to take this paper white blur and protect it with everything he had.
The Blur leaned down and pressed their mouths together almost tenderly. But as it did this, the room started to blur even more. A brief flash of white, greyer than the Blur, flared in his mind's eye. The pressure against his lips faded away and a familiar flowery scent filled his nose. His mind's eye saw red, no, orange swirling around him, a flash of brown appearing now and then. The face slowly came into focus, smiling at him. Somewhere, in the back of his head, he could hear the Blur shrieking in rage.
Ginny had now formed in front of him, smiling serenely. She circled around him, seemingly floating, before reappearing in front of him. She came closer, the Blur becoming quieter with every inch. Finally, their mouths met.
The not quite tenderness of the Blur could not compare to Ginny's lips. As soon as their mouths connected, a spark lit up in Harry's chest, and jolted though his body, lighting up his every nerve, not in a Cruciatus kind of way, but in a tingling, extraordinarily pleasant way. Small, warm hands slid up his chest sensually, leaving a deliciously cool trail on his bare skin. His hands, moving of their own accord, slid onto her hips, up to her waist, and squeezed. Harry could suppress a quiet moan as he felt her soft, warm flesh, and felt Ginny smile against him.
He wasn't sure for how long they stood there
(or are we laying down?)
but he did not mind at all. The only thing he could do was feel. Ginny surrounded him, her hands gripping his hair, his own hands tangled in hers, their lips attached, kissing fiercely.
Out of nowhere, Ginny disappeared. The Blur had reappeared, though no longer blurred, and very clearly focused. Its paper white face was contorted viciously with an unmistakable rage. Cold hands were on him now. They scrabbled at his skin like termites, claw-like nails scratching into him.
"You think of her?" Voldemort snarled, and those claws dug into his ribs. Harry gasped and tried to grab the cold hands, but found them bound once again. This seemed to anger the Dark Lord, who seized Harry by the throat.
"I will kill her," he swore, grip around Harry's neck tightening. "I will kill her in front of you. But first, whoever wants her will have her." Harry's eyes widened. "Then Bellatrix will torture her however she likes, and I will give her to Severus to break her mind so she won't even be able to scream for you."
Harry's face was rapidly turning blue. Dark splotches danced across his vision. His wrists shuddered in their bindings. And just as quickly as he had grabbed him, Voldemort let go. Harry immediately turned his head and filled his lungs, coughing fitfully. By the time he had regained his breath, Voldemort had moved near the fireplace, fists clenched around his yew wand. Harry struggled to see him properly, having to keep lifting his head from the pillow.
"Have I not tried?" Voldemort murmured, a hard edge to his voice. "Have I not been gentle with you?"
Harry swallowed. He stayed silent, eyes not leaving the Dark Lord's back.
"Have I not protected you from my followers?"
"Don't they attack me on your orders?"Harry retorted, gritting his teeth. Voldemort whirled around, ruby eyes glowing lit up by the orange flames behind him.
"They do," he snapped. "But they hate you as much as I do. Perhaps more…" He turned back with difficulty towards the dancing flames, body still taut with anger.
"If you hate me so much, why do you keep bringing me back here?" Harry demanded shortly, head flopping back against the plush pillow.
Voldemort was silent for a long moment, unmoving, hands clasped simply behind his back. "I'm afraid…I regret giving you your wand without being compensated properly." He tilted his head ever so slowly to the right. "And now, I must demand suitable repayment."
Harry stilled at these words, a deep chill creeping into his bones. "What do you mean?" his voice shook far more than he would have liked.
"Why do you think you are naked, dear?" came his simple response.
Cold seized his body. Harry tugged frantically at his wrist bonds, nearly dislocating his shoulders with each hysterical tug. He thrashed about, trying in vain to loosen them. Voldemort hadn't moved from his place near the fire. He only stared into the flames as Harry panted with fright behind him. Ever so slowly, Voldemort turned around. Harry stilled immediately, eyes wide. Voldemort gave a small, utterly cruel smile, and, deliberately slowly, took a step forward. Harry's breathing quickened. Another step, then another. Harry's nails dug into his palms. His chest shuddered with every breath he took.
Voldemort was standing next to the bed much too soon. He sat down slowly, smile never leaving his face. Ice held Harry's limbs in place. A paper-white finger traced up and down his belly again, and if possible, it felt even colder than the last time.
"No…I don't…" Harry tried fruitlessly to squirm away from him, but with a simple wave of his hand, Voldemort had immobilized him completely.
"No..! No..!"
Voldemort placed a hand gently on his chest, before leaning down and pressed his cold mouth to his pet's. The hand slid down slowly, teasingly, down his chest, going over his stomach, almost reaching its destination…
Harry opened his eyes with a scream, throat raw, voice hoarse, hair wet and clinging to his clammy skin. People were squabbling all around him. He stared at them all with wide eyes. Hermione was shouting at Ron, who had an empty pitcher in his hand. Dumbledore was whispering to Snape, whose dark eyes were boring into Harry's. Even Mundungus was there.
Harry gave a low moan and clamped his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. Immediately Voldemort's image appeared in front of his closed eyelids.
(Get out of my head! I DON'T WANT YOU IN HERE!)
His nails dug into his scalp. His teeth cut into his bottom lip. Tears trickled out of his unseeing eyes.
(STOP IT! GO AWAY!)
The words were pushed from his throat. Suddenly the noise in the room stopped. The dead silence was only broken by Harry's quiet wails.
"I told you, Albus," came Snape's quiet hiss, looking stern even in his dressing gown. "Get these people out of here!"
Dumbledore swallowed hard, eyes not leaving Harry's trembling form. "Everyone, please leave Mr. Potter."
"Professor…" started Hermione.
"Yes, Miss Granger, you and Mr. and Miss Weasley may stay."
The rest of them filtered out slowly, until only Dumbledore and Snape were remaining with the four teenagers. They stood quietly for a long moment, Harry sobbing quietly and Snape and Dumbledore still murmuring to each other.
"Harry…" whispered Hermione. "You need to breathe, Harry." She moved to start rubbing his back, but he flinched away violently and clenched harder at his scalp. She moved away quickly, twisting her hands around and chewing her lip, looking worried.
"Severus..." Dumbledore pleaded from near the door.
Snape looked crosser than usual. "It will only get worse," he snarled, before crossing the room in three long strides. He plunged a hand in his ever-present satchel, took out a pale blue bottle and thrust it out towards Hermione. "Calming Draught. Make him drink it."
"I…I…"
"Now."
Hermione wordlessly moved towards Harry again. "Harry? Professor Snape wants you to take this Calming Draught." He only moaned in response and tried to turn away from him.
"Perhaps Weasley should refill the pitcher," Snape suggested silkily. Ron gave him a dirty look, which he ignored completely.
Dumbledore walked towards Harry and knelt down next to the bed. "Harry," he said quietly, but clearly. "Look at me, please." Even in Harry's hysterical state, Dumbledore's compelling tone worked perfectly. Dull, wet emerald eyes turned to the sad blue ones. "Take a deep breath." He held out his hand towards Hermione, who placed the bottle in his wrinkled hand. "Another," Dumbledore commanded, as he attempted to uncork the bottle. Harry stared at the Headmaster's blackened left hand, which he had not noticed before.
"Professor? Shall I..?" started Hermione, taking a step forward.
"No, its fine, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, and with a gentle flick of his wand, the cork disappeared.
"Do you need help, Harry?" he asked gently, holding the flask out to him. With a shaky hand, Harry took it from him wordlessly, and brought it to his mouth. He paused for a moment, before tilting his head back and swallowing the liquid in one gulp. Immediately, most of the tension in his body flowed out. He couldn't feel his muscles anymore. He slumped bonelessly against the wall.
"You gave him too much!" Hermione exclaimed in horror, staring at Harry's drooping form.
"I will remind you, Granger, that it is I the Potions Master here," Snape replied coolly.
"But he shouldn't be like that!"
"That's fine, Granger. The next time the Headmaster rouses me at four in the morning because Potter's having a nightmare, I will simply tell him that you are more qualified for restoring his health." Hermione blushed and looked at her slippers.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore had moved away from the bed, and had sunken down tiredly into a chair near the door. Ginny took his place next to the bed, and carefully maneuvered Harry so he was lying back down. He didn't even react. His eyes roamed about unfocusedly. His mouth hung open slightly, drool trickling out. She sighed and mopped it up with his duvet.
"Oh Harry," she murmured sadly.
"You should go back to bed, children," said Dumbledore.
"But…" started Hermione.
"Let's go, Hermione," interrupted Ron. She looked at him in surprise, but nodded. He guided her towards the door, hand on the small of her back. "Ginny," he called softly. "Come on." She nodded, and brushed Harry's hair out of his face before pushing herself up and out of the room. Only the two men remained with the oblivious teenager.
"Is there no way of preventing it, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, rubbing his face tiredly.
"Preventing what? Be more specific, Albus," Snape snapped.
"The visions…"
"The Dark Lord makes the choice of sending Potter the visions. So you may either kill the Dark Lord, or kill Potter."
"Severus, please…"
"If Potter were dead, he would have no more visions."
"We both know that you don't want him dead."
"The boy's a nuisance. Always getting into trouble, even more so than his filthy—"
"I know you're tired, Severus. We should be getting back to bed as well."
Snape gave a tiny snort, before turning around and wrenching the door open, marching out. Dumbledore rose from his chair slowly. He crossed the room and pulled the duvet over Harry, who had finally closed his eyes, the mixed Dreamless Sleep having taken effect.
"Sleep well, child."
A/N: A bit of slashy filler for you people. And you didn't actually think I'd let Voldemort rape Harry, did you? Naw...
Don't forget to review! Even if it's to say this chapter was pathetic, and don't waste our time and bytes with fillers, biatch!
But...um...don't actually say that...