Author's Note: So here I am again, after saying proudly, on my Livejournal, that I would never ever write fics again and that I would never ever write on this site again... I'm back, posting a new version of my story "MAKE ME BREATHE AGAIN". It's not very well known, it only had two chapters when I stopped. It's been written in french too where it had quite a success. I decided to continue the fic in both languages when fresh ideas came to me suddenly. So, I'm french, I speak and write pretty well in english, but still, there's bound to be a couple of mistakes in this, so don't be too hard on me. It's not my first fic, I deleted my others because of a simple lost of interest. Please leave reviews. I love it! And also, the story is available on this website in french under the title "LÀ OU LES RÊVES S'ENVOLENT". Have a good read. For more information, view my profile shortly.

To Where Dreams May Come.

Chapter 1

That morning, Harry woke up with a start. He was certain he heard gunshots. They'd been haunting his every nightmares for two years now. His hair was soaked with sweat, his t-shirt stuck to his skin and his heart pounded so fast anyone would have thought he just ran a mile

He'd just opened his eyes and was already up, caught in panic. The young man looked around, but his vision blurred and he thought he was going to faint when he saw the dorm darken before his eyes. A wave of nausea filled him suddenly and he fell hard to the ground. Then he knew, this day wasn't going to be so pleasant after all.

Forehead against the ground, his hair dripping on the floor, Harry noticed, for the first time, the deep pain running through his skull, mixing with the beating of his heart. He could hear whispers all around and soon, footsteps coming towards him. The vibrations on the floor, as light as they were, seemed to increase his pain. He raised his head lightly and saw, a bit more clearly, a pair of feet near his right shoulder. Then two hands, belonging to the owner of the feet, gripped his shoulders tightly to help him stand up.

"You alright, mate?"

Harry found himself gazing into Marx's worried face and felt a bit relieved. It had been a dream. Nothing more. Everything was okay now. It was all over.

Carefully, he sat down on his bed and took deep breaths, just like Clara showed him. Then, he slowly felt his heart and vision come back to normal.

"You want me to get Madam Pomfrey or maybe Miss Craig?" asked his friend, concerned.

Harry frowned.

"I'm alright. Stop treating me like a fucking baby!" he snapped, breathing more easily now.

"Gosh... sorry," said the other. "I'm worried about you, that's all. I just wanna help."

Harry smiled lightly, apologizing, then laid back on his bed, trying to ignore the mutters coming from his other roomates and the noises from the hallway. Sighing, he turned his head away, staring at the small barred window next to his bed.

He would've given anything to leave this place.

- - -

His friend was acting weird these days, Marx decided at lunch. He was so distant and often had nightmares. They should have stopped by now. Marx thought they had stopped. But he should have known better. Nothing was ever over. As long as they'd be here, nothing would stop. Memories would haunt them. It was like that, and he didn't think there was anything they coud do about it.

Harry was sitting here, in front of him, pushing the tip of his fork in his plate, moving the food around, making horrible scratching noises. He hadn't eaten anything yet and Marx knew he wouldn't. This morning had been just awful. It was often the case.

Ever since they'd came back to school, bad luck had followed Harry everywhere he went. He now collected detentions, was forbidden to go out, teachers seemed to yell at him even more and Marx was sure it did nothing to make his friend feel better. Harry seemed completely depressed. It was the worst state he'd even seen him in. His mood changed dramatically. One minute he was horribly sad, the other he almost blew up with rage. Marx could have bet all this had to do with the fact that Harry went to spend the summer with his aunt and uncle this year. He hadn't stepped foot in their house for years and even if Harry rarely talked about his family, his friend knew their relationship wasn't any good. In fact, it was even worse than the one he had with his own family. And that was saying something. Harry was a very strong person, but he was easy to reach when you knew his weaknesses and Marx was sure that, after all the years he spent with them, the Dursleys knew his weaknesses perfectly.

Marx sighed when he saw Karl Morgan coming their way. Now, it couldn't be worse. The smirk he saw on the newcomer's face told him that, indeed, Will, one of their roomates, once again told everyone about what happened in the dorm this morning. Everything happened pretty quickly then.

"Hey, Potter! Heard you had bad dreams last night!"

Marx winced and heard Harry let out a rage-filled breath.

"Fuck off, Morgan. Mind your business," Marx said calmly, hoping everything would end right there.

But he knew very well it wasn't gonna be that simple.

Karl Morgan threw him a disgusted glare.

"Mind your business yourself, Xan. I'm talking to Potter. Heard he woke up the whole dorm this morning. What was it this time? Little Harry had a big bad wet dream!" He laughed cruelly. "Or is it just bad memories!" He then took a high-pitched voice and rose his arms in the air. "Noooo! ARRRRRGGHHHH! No, please! I don't wanna die!"

He quickly caught the attention of all the other students with this bad impersonation of Harry and a few people started laughing.

"No! Marx, save me! Arrrrrggghhh! Please, Mommy!..." He stopped for a second then..."Ah crap... you don't have one, Potter..."

"Fuck. Off. Karl." said Marx, detaching every word to make himself clear.

"What's wrong Potter? Can't stand up for yourself? Need your little boyfriend! Always knew you two had a thing..."

He was stopped mid-sentence by Harry's fist on his jaw.

- - -

When the young man entered Carla's office, he was in a terrible mood. His hair wild, and cheeks flushed, eyes flashing with anger and his shirt's sleeves rolled up, he glared at her furiously. She kept her ground and calmly told him to sit down, pointing at the leather armchair facing her. Surprisingly, he did as he was told, all the while swiftly untying his black tie with particularly talented fingers. Glancing at the school psychologist, he made a weird face that she recognizes as his interpretation of a smile.

The 32-yeard-old woman finally put her pen down on her desk and looked at the newcomer.

"So, Harry, tell me what happened this time."

He told her the whole story, like he did so many times before. Harry was very patient, but these days, he seemed completely unbalanced. A simple spark would cause him to explode like some kind of nuclear bomb. Even when he wasn't directly provoked, he reacted. The 16-year-old simply stood up for what was right, and insulting others in front of him wasn't something very wise. When he didn't like someone's behavior towards another, he always let the person know. This would have been very good for him, if only he didn't choose to do it the hard way.

It was never the same story, but Karl Morgan was always in the midst of it. So Clara wasn't surprise to hear his name at the very beginning. Karl was new in school this year and ever since he stepped foot in the building, it was war between Harry and him. It almost seemed like they were fighting over the school. If Harry had an ego, it was nothing compared to Karl's. He seemed convinced he was the king of the whole world. Clara had met him. She always met with the students before their acceptance to evalute their case and open a file, so she knew almost everyone. And even if she was too nice to admit it, she really didn't like her meeting with Karl. He was selfish and arrogant and she wasn't very proud of it, but in a way, she was glad Harry was there to put him in his place.

Martin Xan was also included in the story. The boy, whom everyone called Marx, was Harry's very best friend. They both were in St. Brutus' since age eleven and were relying entirely on the other. They were always together but Marx rarely took part in Harry's fights, most usually trying to break them down but never really succeeding. Energy and strenght, Harry had plenty.

Harry came to Carla's office very often and she surprisingly took a liking to the young man. As insensitive as he could sometimes seem, he was in fact, very nice, interesting, fun-loving and charming. He simply had his bad days, like anyone else, and a reputation to maintain. In St. Brutus', you had to look tough is you wanted to make it.

He was also one of the few students who stayed at school during summer holidays. There were no classes at that time of the year, but the school was transformed in some kind of camp for children whose parents couldn't afford an all-year attendance. All that spare time, Harry spent it mostly in the library, reading everything he could put his hands on and waiting for the school year to start again so that he could see Marx, who always spent his summer with his mother and Ben, his step-father, in their small appartment in downtown London.

The step-father was the main reason for Marx's presence in St. Brutus'. He had been particularly insistent on sending his new wife's son in the private school for criminal boys. He probably through that the best way to spend time with his 'sweet love' was to get rid of her son. Completetly blinded by her new love, Marx's mother had almost forgotten the very existence of her own son. Like Marx said himself, his mom was always "either drunk, stoned, or fucking Ben. Pretty often, it's all three."

And Harry? All he had left were an aunt, an uncle and a cousin living in Surrey. His parents died when he was about a year old, making him an orphan. Harry knew absolutely nothing about them and his aunt and uncle always refused to tell him even a single detail. After Harry's first year, they made it clear they never wanted to have him in their house again and Harry was totally okay with it. But this year, Clara had that "brilliant" idea and convinced them to take Harry in, only for the summer. She thought maybe it could help him with his problems. But, according to Marx, it was a fiasco. "People like that never change." Harry's vacation was nothing but a succession of fights and yelling matches and it almost drove him mad. Luckily, Harry had art and music. They always saved him. However, Clara was incredibly sorry for her mistake but she knew the last thing Harry wanted was to talk about it. She never apologized, respecting his need to forget and acted like she didn't know anything went wrong. Harry was an excellent liar, really, but with her, his facade rarely worked. She could read him like an open book.

The story had been told and Harry stopped talking. Clara looked at him for a moment then stood up. She sat on the desk, right in front of him and took his chin in her hands, forcing him to look at her. She searched the young man's face for a few secondes and found what she was looking for: a black eye quickly forming on the right side of his face.

"Where's Karl?"

"Infirmery," Harry answered.

Clara let go of his face then sighed, shaking her head.

"You are impossible!" she said, desperately. "When is it going to stop?"

"He started it! He even insulted Marx this time," Harry protested, leaning back into the armchair.

The psychologist narrowed her eyes.

"You pretty well know that Marx is perfectly able to defend himself properly! You need to learn to contain yourself, Harry," she said, much more calmly.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"And how do I do that?"

Carla shrugged, then sighed.

"When you feel like you're going to do something crazy, just... walk away. Do something else. Find something you like to do, something that can help you calm down. Or do anything you want, but please... try to just relax. And hit something else than a student for once. I got you out of trouble many times, Harry, but I don't know how long I'll be able to keep this up. If you don't want to loose everything, please try, at least, to control your anger. You like basketball, don't you?"

Harry looked at her briefly, then stared at his feet. The psychologist smiled sadly.

"You wouldn't want to be kick out of the team, right?"

Harry slowly raised his head and shot her a negative glare. She was right. Again.

"Okay. I guess I'll try," he growled.

Clara stood up, smiling happily.

"That's better! Now you get out or you'll be late for 3rd period."

Harry sighed.

"Chemistry. Can't you keep me a little longer?"

Clara burst out laughing and sat back in her chair.

"No way. Professor Snape would be so disappointed if you didn't show up."

Harry frowned.

"Disappointed because he couldn't make me suffer."

He stood up and walked to the door.

"And Harry?"

He turned back, sighing.

"What?"

"Come back if you need anything. Anything at all. Just to talk or..."

"I know. Bye," he said, dryly.

The door opened and Clara heard the noises and voices of students in the hallway and then closed again behind the young man. Clara Craig did her best to ignore the burning in her throat and went back to work. She often thought that, maybe, she was too sensitive for this job.

- - -

When Harry closed the door behind him, he felt worse, if it was possible. Sighing with rage, he took off towards his dorm.

He couldn't figure out why they would want to kick him out of the basketball team. He only wanted to defend his best friend... and himself for that matter. Sure, he had plenty of other friends, but none like Marx. They knew each other since the very first day of their very first year in St. Brutus, the others only arrived a bit later. They were always together and told each other absolutely everything, even though they were very different. Anyways, Harry thought with a satisfied smiled, they would never kick him out of the team, he was the best player and everyone knew it. Without him, it just wouldn't be the same.

The hallways were crowded with students waiting for the bell announcing the first class of the afternoon. Harry quickly made his way through the crowd and took the hallway leading to the student dorms. He took the stairs up to the second floor and stopped in front of room number 38. But instead of opening the door, he put his ear against it to listen what was going on inside.

"So, what d'you think's gonna happen? Is he gonna be kicked out?" asked the anxious voice of Darren Andrews, whom everyone called 'Drew'.

"Nah, don't think so," said Marx simply.

"Maybe you should've gone with him to see the psycho lady," said Drew again. "Tell her it wasn't his fault..."

Marx laughed.

"C'mon, Drew. Harry's old enough to take care of himself."

Harry smiled against the door, ignoring a group of fourth years that passed him, shooting weird looks in his direction.

"All that wouldn't have happened if Carter here knew how to close the enormous sack of shit he uses as a mouth," Drew growled.

"What ya said, Andrews?" asked Will Carter's deep voice

"You heard what I said, Carter. Or maybe the watermelon seed replacing your brain didn't register all the words? Give Harry a break, and stop telling every single thing happening in here to the first one to fucking walk by."

"Go fuck ya'self, Andrews! I say what I want, when I want and there ain't no little fucker that's gonna order me 'round... 'specially not ya!" Will said.

"Oh yeah? C'mon! C'mon, hit me! C'mon! Hit me!" Drew's voice echoed throught the room.

"Guys. Stop it." Marx said calmly.

Marx was always the one to put things straight. He was the voice of reason. Harry could see his calm and serious face in his head.

"Just like I said, it's not use fighting. Drew, Harry's not gonna be kicked out. Miss Craig's always on his side..."

Drew interrupted him.

"This time, I'm sure it's over. Carter fucked it all up. Have you seen Morgan's face. Beat him up like hell! Bet you Harry's gonna be kicked out and the basket team'll be fucking ruined."

There was a long silence only broken by Will's startled voice.

"What?"

"You don't know what you're saying," said Marx, laughing. "We're in a school for criminals, Drew. You need more than a simple fight to get kicked out..."

But his words were left unheard.

"Obviously you're too much of an imbecile to think before you act," Drew said to Will, irritated. "If Harry gets kicked out of school, which would be entirely your fault, he won't play basket with us anymore, you twit. And our team'll surely take the worst fucking beating of the history. We play against MacKenzie in a week and you know that without Potter, we're fucking dead."

Harry thought it was a great moment to stop by. He opened the door violently and entered the room.

His sudden intrusion was startling. On the other side of the room, Marx was half-laying on his bed, holding a sports magazine he was probably reading about a few secondes ago.

Marx had always been very tall. He as now quite close to six feet, which sometimes made Harry look almost ridiculous beside him. At about five feet seven, he was the smallest of the group. Marx's pale brown hair was messily spiked and his metallic blue eyes often showed a strange twinkle, like he was constantly amused by what happened around. He was staring at Harry, a bit startled, with a small lop-sided grin on his face.

In the middle of the room stood Drew and Will whom, Harry guessed, had been ready to strangle each other before he entered.

Will was tall and black, and could be described in one word. Muscles. Even thought he was very imposing, many people still made fun of him because of his fiery temper. Will always shaved his head. It was now his trademark. And another thing about Will Carter. He couldn't keep his mouth shut.

Then there was Drew. The clown. He had a neverending ressource of jokes, weird expressions and entertaining insults. However, he was very secretive about himself and the reason he ended up in St. Brutus was unknown even by his closest friends, who happened to be Harry and Marx. Drew was Will's complete opposite. His hair was as blonde as in shampoo commercials and few people ever saw him without his famous shades. You could easily think they were a part of his face.

Harry broke the silence.

"Don't worry, I won't stay long. Just coming to get my books. Don't wanna bother you."

Harry walked to his corner of the dorm and took his book bag lying on the floor. He caught his Chemistry book on his desk and put on the traditional black blazer with the school crest on the pocket. He rearranged his tie and turned back to the others.

"So... how long've ya been there?" Will asked.

Harry just shook his head.

Will stayed silent, looking at his feet, while Marx, eyebrow raised, waited for something to happen. Drew did his best not to laugh. Finally, Will mumbled:

"I'm... I'm sor... I shouldn've told that to..."

Harry frowned before leaving the room suddenly.

"You do what you want, Carter. But you stay the fuck away from me, got it?"

Again, silence filled the room. A few seconds later, Marx spoke:

"I'll go talk to him."

He stood up, took his books and left the room.

"You're small, man. You're damn small," Drew said the Will before following his friend.

- - -

The bell rang just as Harry walked by. Furious, he swore and shook his head. Then, he heard hurrying footsteps behind him and stopped to wait for Marx and Drew.

"You alright?" asked Marx.

Harry said nothing. He thought it was best to keep silent. Better than admitting something was incredibly, incredibly wrong. He made his way towards the Chemistry classroom.

"Look, I know what you think and you're right. I'd feel the same if I were you, but please, don't do anything stupid..."

Harry laughed bitterly.

"So now you pretend that you can read my mind or what?"

They stopped in the middle of the hallway, blocking the way of many frustrated students.

"Harry," Marx said simply, with a deserate stare. "I never meant to say... Please, don't start that, please..."

"Start WHAT?"

He raised his voice a bit too much and everything stopped. But loud footsteps were heard coming from the corner of the hallway and all the students quickly left the spot when they saw a famous silhouette coming their way.

Walking quickly towards them, greasy-black haired and yellow-faced, was Professor Snape. He wore the traditional three piece teacher's "uniform" under a long black coat that put the final touch on his vampiric allure. For that reason, many students called him "Nosferatu". When he saw Harry, Marx and Drew, he stopped sharp.

"What are you three up to? he asked suspiciously.

The others students seemed relieved that Snape ignored them. They all hated him and he returned it. But it was well known, Professor Snape mainly liked torturing Harry Potter. It had been this way since the very first day.

Snape's gaze was fixed on Harry.

"You're not saying anything, Potter? I asked you a question? Oh, but I know very well what this is all about! One fight a day is not enough for you, is that it? Your ego's not satisfied yet? Maybe starting a rumble right in the middle of the main corridor would favour your... reputation, but not your school file."

"You're nothing but a..."

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Did I give you permission to speak, Potter? Perhaps it would be better for you not to say what you were planning on saying. Now, you three, hurry up and get in class. I won't tolerate any of you being late in my class. Especially not you, Potter."

He left, walking swiftly towards his classroom, his long coat floating behind him. Drew made a disgusted face but it quickly disappeared when Snape turned around.

"What are you waiting for?" he said between gritted teeth.

And he disappeared in the Chemistry lab.

The classroom was pretty big. It had two large windows on the left wall, which was quite awkward really since a sunny classroom did not seem to make Snape any nicer. Despite the normality of Snape's classroom, students quickly related to it as the "Torture Chamber". The room counted tree large blackboards: the first in the front, just behind Snape's desk, and the other two, smaller, were placed on the right wall, opposite the windows. The back of the room was occupied by a huge periodic board and all other weird posters of important scientific men. Atoms made of wood balls and plastic rings were rotating over their heads and there was a door in the back that led to the "real" lab, where all the experiences took place. It was a shame, really, that Snape didn't trust them at all and they rarely set foot in that interesting place.

Harry took his usual seat, the second desk from the back in the row on the left, just beside the window. Marx sat next to him, like he always did, and Will, behind. He was forced to sit in the back because of his massive shoulders. Drew grinned at Harry and took the seat nearest to his friends, beside Neville Longbottom, who was in the dorm next to theirs.

The bell rang again and Snape kicked the door violently before a late student that was in the process of entering the room. The guy stood there for a minute, surprised, then turned around and walked away. All the students knew pretty well that if they arrived after the second bell, they'd be stuck outside. You were late to Snape's class? You stayed outside. No one was about to contradict that. For that reason, a few students were very glad to be late in Chemistry class.

One of the students in the front row bursted out laughing when he saw the look on the guy's face, but Snape took hold of a wooden ruler and violently hit the said student's desk to shut him up. Many classmates jumped, and the classroom was silent. Snape smirked in victory, and firmly set the ruler back on his desk. He then elegantly opened his Chemistry book.

"Open your book to chapter one, we will continue last year's revision. Today, we well see Lewis Structures. Maybe one of you thinks himself more brilliant than me and would like to try and explain what Lewis Structures are for?" he asked, with an evil glare.

Silence. Harry opened his book. He knew the answer pretty well, but it was no use answering. He didn't want to get more attention from Snape than necessary. He stopped dead when he saw that Neville, who was sitting before Marx, had raised his hand, a small smile on his lips. Harry winced when Snape glared at him.

"Mr Longbottom," he said in a soft but dangerous voice, "if you think you're so intelligent that you can answer this question, speak now. If not, think about it before humilitating yourself."

Neville lost his smile.

"I'm waiting. Answer!"

"Lewis Structures... it's... huh... to show the... the valence electrons that..."

Snape, who was walking between rows of students, stopped abruptly before Neville.

"Enough, Mr Longbottom. I would suggest, since you seem unable to express yourself properly, that you shut up now."

Harry saw Drew flinching. Then his friend said, simply:

"Come on, Nosferatu. Can't blame the guy for not being able to speak, you smell so much we're choking here!"

There was a tense silence, then the room erupted in hysterical and mocking laughter. Three violent noises echoed throught the room and it was silent again. Harry raised his head and saw Snape, furious, holding that ruler again just like he would with a sword.

"Shut up! All of you!" he said, trying desperately to stay calm. "I won't tolertae this in my class, understand?"

Nobody dared speaking now. It was complete silence. The only thing Harry heard was the soft laughter coming from Drew. He seemed pleased with himself.

"ANDREWS!" screamed the teacher. "I SAID 'SHUT UP'!"

Drew stopped laughing, even though his shoulders were still shaking. Harry shook his head, a small smile on his lips. Snape took deep breaths then pointed towards the door.

"Andrews, out!"

Drew did not think necessary to protest. He took his things and left the room. But when the door closed behind him, they could all hear his joyful laughter as he walked away.

"Now I don't want to hear a thing!" growled Snape between his teeth.

He was silent for a moment, trying to breathe normally, then took a pile of booklets from his desk and gave one to each student.

"Here is your revision work for this chapter. I want them back on my desk on MONDAY, at the beginning of the class WITH your work. No one is to write on these sheets. I want you to write down all the questions and the answers with clear examples and explanations. Get this straight: I want it done on computer, printed on white sheets... I won't want to see anyone printing on lined sheets ever again. Leave spaces for correction. I want the questions in bold and answers in normal text size 12. The examples will be in color red and italic... Only the examples in red, the rest in black...

Snape stopped next to Marx. When Harry saw that he wasn't moving, he raised his head and realized the man was staring at him.

"What?" Harry asked with his gaze met the teacher's.

"Take that thing off of your head, Potter. You very well know it's forbidden in class," he said dangerously.

He was talking about the beanie Harry had put on that morning in the cold of the dormitory. He must have forgotten to take it off. Harry sat straighter and narrowed his eyes.

"No way! It's just a hat, get over it," he said, simply and calmly.

"I said 'take it off'!" said Snape again, through gritted teeth, his face inches away from Harry's.

"I said 'no way'!" replied Harry.

Snape put a booklet in Harry's book than closed it loudly. He took Harry's bookbag from the floor and threw it on the desk. Then, furious, he said:

"Get out, Potter!"

"What?" Harry asked, surprised. "Don't get mad, it's just a fucking hat!"

"Watch your language, Potter. Get out!"

Snape continued his distribution of the homeworks, his back to Harry. He stood up and seriously thought about hitting Snape with his Chemistry book, but then he remembered what Clara had said earlier and guessed that attacking a teacher with school material certainly wouldn't do him any good. Finally, he left the room, but not before shooting Snape another angry glare.

When he closed the door, Harry heard mocking laughter coming from behind him. He turned around and saw that disgusting man, Argus Filch, the school's janitor, mopping the floor.

He was an extremely ugly man and his mocking smirk did nothing to help. Harry felt his anger growing. He walked swiftly to the man and, with a powerful kick, he slammed the cart - on which stood a bucket of dirty water - to the floor. It made the tiles' greenish colour look even more disgusting and an horrible smell filled the hallway. A few garbage bags filled with today's food leftovers ripped and their content was quickly spread on the floor. Harry, furious and disgusted, quickly walked away.

"Hey! Little bastard! Come back here!" screamed the janitor, furiously.

Harry turned around and gave him the finger.

"Go fuck yourself!"

Then he walked straight back to the end of the hallway and opened the out-of-order glass door normally used as an emergency exit. He found himself out into the school's cemented backyard and despite October's cold air, he took off his black vest and threw it on an old picnic table, right next to Drew who stared at him, an enormous smile on his face.

"Was kinda wondering who'd join me first, should've guessed it would be you."

Harry said nothing and sat next to his friend.

"In fact, I'm glad it's you. Then I can tell you I beat you, mate. Nosferatu threw me out after five minutes. I've got the record now."

Harry had his first true smile of the day.

"So," Drew said while taking a basket ball out of his bag. "Wanna play?"