I am so sorry for the wait, I really have become terrible at all this. Thank you ever so much to those of you who have reviewed especially to char1e and shiny misS - your reviews are so appriciated. Right, well I'm going to shut up now and let you read the chapter if you want! Hope you like.

Chapter Thirteen – The Haunting of Dreams

Harry knew that Draco had left the Hospital Wing some days earlier but he hadn't seen him nor spoken to him since their last encounter in the Hospital Wing. Harry wondered if he was right in telling Draco about his past, everything. Harry was gradually retreating back into himself again, shutting himself away… ignoring all that Hermione and Ron were discussing – something to do with holding a Valentines Day Ball.

'Bloody fucking great all I need – smug couples.' Harry thought bitterly to himself. The cutting was continuing, people said drugs were addicting, they said that alcohol was addicting. That was what they all said but it wasn't necessarily the case. Harry was addicted to cutting, he'd never considered smoking nor alcohol – this was his release. 'It's a release, an escape, a relief from pain.' That was the excuse he told himself every time he watched the glass pierce his tainted and scarred skin. As the blood flowed freely down his arm and onto the floor letting all the pain contained within him flow away with it. He didn't have any more obvious bruises or cuts/scars left from what his 'Uncle' had done – they'd healed, on the outside at least. The cuts he had now were completely self inflicted, no one made him do it but then no one prevented him either, which created even more incentive and made it even more addictive. He had the power.

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The next morning in the Great Hall was the first time he saw Draco. He watched Draco walk straight past him, he didn't nod, didn't even cast a quick glance in his direction. Harry gulped and felt betrayed, felt anger rise within him, felt stupid for believing he had made progress a couple of days ago. He looked at Draco in shame and bent his head so no one could see the tears forming in his eyes.

'I'm turning into a girl and nearly crying over Draco Malfoy… could it get much worse? SHIT! There should at least a decent reason to cry and Draco Malfoy definitely doesn't fall into that category.' Harry whispered into his arms. He began to shake with rage at himself, at the people around him, at his 'enemy'. There was no one near him at the precise moment; the majority of people were giving him a wide berth. Even Ron and Hermione who normally stuck with him through out were giving him space because of what they called his 'strange' behaviour – they just couldn't handle him changing. So no one noticed the anger radiating from him Harry, they all chatted and laughed as per normal. Even the ever watchful Draco Malfoy was engrossed in another letter he'd been sent.

Progressively Harry calmed down and decided he should eat something as he'd missed meals for the past 2 days running due to essays and work he'd had.

'Toast and pumpkin juice, I think,' Harry said and there they were – toast on his plate and pumpkin juice in his glass. Harry blinked and looked again – they were still there, he raised his head, there was no one close enough to have placed them there or hear what he'd wanted. Harry was so spooked he grabbed the toast and ran from the Great Hall in confusion.

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Harry went through the rest of the day avoiding any of his friends or 'friends' including Remus – the incident at breakfast had been playing on his mind continuously. Especially with the fact that they'd both suddenly appeared on his plate and in his goblet.

'Food doesn't appear on peoples plates – it appears on the ones in the centre of the table so how the fuck did they get there?' Harry pondered to himself as he quickly and silently moved down the corridors to the Gryffindor Common Room. He marched straight into the Common Room creating a large amount of disturbance and general noise.

'Jees Potter,' spat Dean, 'you're already popular enough you don't have to try and make us look at you.'

Harry tried with all his might not to let this immature, petty comment get to him, he had plenty on his mind, what with Malfoy, the incident, Ron and Hermione and rebuilding their friendship. Harry was about to step up to the dormitory but he couldn't do it, it was too much and he turned round to the sneering face of Dean. The look Dean was giving him was a look he would have expected to see on Malfoy's face a couple of years ago and Harry's hand was itching to reach up and punch it but he contained himself, this was a 'friend' and a member of his house.

'What exactly is your problem Thomas?' Harry enquired in the nicest tone he could muster.

Dean looked at him, 'you.'

'And what exactly have I done to you to make you hate me so much?'

Harry waited for a reply but none came from Dean, he seemed to be stuck for words. Harry decided to end this once and for all so he advanced over to Dean who drew back as if on his guard. Dean was tall too and so Harry was looking him in the eye trying to sum him up.

'I'm sorry for obviously hurting you in some way, but I didn't realise I had. So I'm now apologising for the annoyance I seem to have caused you.' Harry paused and he felt the anger slowly rise up within him. 'If it's just my mere fucking existence that causes you grief well then bad bloody luck because I am going nowhere, you'd better get used to it. Who exactly is going to be the one saving your scrawny arse in the end, huh? So fucking well give me a break – I have done nothing. Just lay off.'

Dean looked stunned, surprised and scared all at the same time, Harry thought it best to leave now otherwise he knew he would do something he'd regret, like letting his itching hand win. Suddenly Harry heard the sound of clapping, a first year had stood up and was applauding. Slowly more people stood up and gave him a clap, Harry turned back to Dean ignoring the clapping, lent in towards him and whispered, 'see, did I ask for this? Any of this? This happens because I'm me and I can't help it. If you think you could do a better job, good luck. But I did not, I did not ask for it. So lay off, ok?'

Harry just looked at Dean and repeated, 'ok?' Dean just nodded in response and Harry made a quick exit, running up the stairs to his dormitory to hide away on his bed, where he felt vaguely safe. The clapping sound resounding in his ears.

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It was about 1.30am when Harry woke, he blinked and reached for his glasses, he couldn't explain his awakening, he'd been in a perfectly peaceful sleep. Harry lifted himself out of bed and walked to the window where Hedwig was resting. Putting out his hand to stroke her as she perched by the window, her pure, white feathers intermingling with his long, coarse fingers. Harry watched the outside world – the blackness, just touched ever so slightly by a silvery glow from the moon that appeared through the invisible clouds.

Harry realised sleep was very unlikely to hit him again and so he grabbed a book from his bedside and headed downstairs into the Common Room.

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Harry had been sitting reading for nearly an hour and a half – Hermione would have been very proud of him – he had heard nothing, seen nothing, not even a house elf. Although having said that he was enjoying the peace, the serenity, it was something he didn't manage to do much very often nowadays.

'No Hermione, no Ron, no Dumbledore, no Malfoy, no Dean bloody Thomas, no Remus, no no-one. Now that is what I call heaven, lonely but a nice taste of peace and heaven.' Harry considered to himself.

Harry was about to settle down to reading his book again when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention, he looked up.

'Hello?' he questioned. 'Hello? Is anyone there?'

There was no answer so Harry presumed it was just the shadows dancing with the candlelight. But then it happened again, just as he had started his book, however this time the movement was closer and more overbearing on his mind. Harry gave his head a violent shake.

'Stop being stupid, there is nothing there, just concentrate on something else, like the Valentines Ball and how absolutely awful it's going to be…' Harry made himself think and concentrate. He was beginning to bring himself back to reality, far away from the Valentines Ball when what he thought was a dark black mass in front of his eyes hit him, not physically; it just hit him and hard causing to fall into instant unconsciousness.

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'Come on, wake up Harry Potter, wake up, there's a good boy.' Harry wanted the voice to sound comforting but it only sounded as if it was mocking and patronising him, which in turn Harry found out it was. 'There's a good boy, open your eyes now……' Harry tried…… 'Oh dear, what's that… can't you open your eyes?' Harry wanted to but it was impossible, then the voice started again. 'I want you to try and speak Harry Potter, try and scream, make yourself known, scream Harry Potter, scream.' The voice taunted.

Harry didn't want this thing to see him suffer and relinquish in his pain nor try in vain to speak because he knew if he tried, he wouldn't be able to scream. Harry could feel the stitches through his lips, holding them together. Preventing him from making a single sound.

'Well, well, this is a difficult position you seem to have gotten yourself into, oh dear.' The voice laughed, evilly and loudly.

Harry felt sick, he gulped and tried to calm down, he needed to be in control of his emotions otherwise he'd end up hurting himself and seeing as he had no idea of the situation that probably wouldn't be the best of ideas. Harry tried to move but in his attempt he found his wrists and legs were tied making any movement impossible.

'Do you know what it's like to feel real pain Harry Potter? Serious heart wrenching pain, such terrible pain that you just want to crawl up and die?' The voice asked.

Harry had felt pain and he had wanted to kill himself once before when life at Privet Drive had become so utterly horrendous that he had wanted to die. However, the two things had never been connected with each other but it looked to Harry as if there was still going to be a chance of that happening now.

'If only I could do something……' Harry thought hopelessly.

The voice started to laugh again, this time it had resorted to being cold, mocking and evil, while making Harry extremely uncomfortable.

'There is no point in trying anything Harry Potter, you are going to die.' It was almost as if it had read his mind.

'No I won't, I won't,' Harry started to sweat, it was getting very hot… 'I will do something, if only I could get these bonds off my wrists and legs – they really have to go before I can do anything.' Harry thought, so they went.

'What! What is going on here?' The voice started to panic. 'How? Harry Potter, what have you done? A very nice trick there Harry Potter.'

Then everything went quiet, Harry was too stunned and exhausted to even try and attempt anything else so he sat himself on the ground trying to regain any possible strength he had left. Everything was so unfamiliar to him, he didn't dare to reach out, not knowing what would be there or where he was. 'And I thought I was brave.' Harry laughed to himself. With all these thoughts swimming around in his head Harry had forgotten about the other thing that surrounded him until it began to speak from above his head.

'Well, well this is quite an interesting situation we have got ourselves into, is it not Harry Potter?'

It was just how Harry remembered it, each hit, each blow, each cut and bruise created forever imprinted on his mind. This was had created him this year so far and it was now happening all over again, expect ten times worse. Harry kept trying to stand up but each hit to his back made him fall back down and smash against the floor. Harry could tell that he was evidently gaining new cuts and bruises, new scars. He lifted his hand to his head very gingerly and felt his hair matted with blood from where his head had struck the floor. All Harry could feel was the pain running through his body like adrenalin. His body was becoming more and more paralysed with pain to such a great extent he wasn't sure at one point whether he had any limbs left attached to his body.

It stopped. Suddenly. Harry dared to try and move to make to stand up. As soon as he made to do this he knew it was a serious mistake, the high cruel laugh pierced the silent atmosphere. The laugh rung in his ears, it tormented him while the slashing at his back continued and the blood gushed onto the floor.

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'GET OFF ME! GET OFF ME!' Harry lurched away but a pair of strong arms pulled him back upright.

'Woah mate, what the heck are you doing? It's me. You can't walk by yourself, have you seen the state you're in? You have to stay still and walk, I'm trying to get you to the Hospital Wing.'

Harry stopped dead in his tracks. 'What's going on here?' Harry thought extremely confused. His hand reached up to his lips, he could feel the stitches still protruding his lips… 'But how am I talking then?' Harry wondered.

'Come on Harry. I can't carry you there by myself.' And the strong hands guided him up stairs, down stairs and along corridors to the Hospital Wing. Harry walked along in a daze and during the walk he looked to his side and saw that the person who was holding him was Ron.

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Well there we go, the next chapter, sorry it wasn't particularly long. If anyone has any ideas as to where this story can go, I'd be much obliged to hear them. I have an idea but I don't know if its good enough. Thank you ever so much for putting up with me and my terrible updating. To those of you who haven't reviewed please do... I'd love to hear your comments. Thank you thank you! Lelimo