Bring Me To Life

BloodyMarry

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter. That much should be obvious.

Warning! More gore. And some slashy goodness. Not a lot though. Beware.

Chapter Two

XOXO

"Well that was quicker than usual."

"Do you usually dream of your Uncle...? Shooting you?" Though he had a smirk on his face, his eyes were moving quickly and curiously over Harry's body. The blood, the gore, it all pointed to Harry's death. And even though this was only a nightmare, he still shouldn't be sitting up.

"Not always, sometimes he beats me to death," Harry offered, his odd sense of humor leaking into this conversation. It was just that this was so weird for him, Lord Voldemort was here, in his dream, in a dream where he'd been shot. They didn't usually teach you how to react to these sorts of things in school.

When no reaction from Voldemort came, other than the raising of his "invisible" eyebrow, Harry continued to explain, "Sometimes it's torture, sometimes it's rape. But in the end it's always the same, he always kills me. Always."

"You dream of death, do you wish it to come upon you so desperately? I could help your fascination along, Potter," Voldemort offered with a curl of the side of his mouth. Harry felt something inside him squirm at the look he was getting from his enemy.

"No, I don't. But I've been getting these dreams since I learned to block out yours," Harry gave the bald man a pointed look and then went on, "I'm not sure why I have them, I don't want them for sure. Hell I almost miss visions of you torturing and killing Death Eaters."

"You could re-open the link, Potter," Voldemort didn't even miss a beat. He'd do anything to worm back into his young adversaries mind, he wasn't stupid. When he saw an opening he moved through it.

"You could stop all this death, and pain. You could put your mind at ease and join-" his slow and coaxing voice was cut off.

"I told you already, there's never going to be a me and you. I would never join you," Harry lifted his chin in the air slightly, not so unlike a Malfoy would. There was only silence after this and Harry sighed, he moved his head around looking at his room. He was glad it wasn't real or else he'd have a lot of cleaning to do in the morning. He shrugged, but so long as he was here, he did feel the urge to clean some of himself off.

"You have a hanky?" Harry asked the older wizard just looked at Harry as if he'd asked him if he'd like to join him in a nice roll around in the mud playing piggies.

"Didn't figure," Harry shrugged his shoulders once again and turned back to Voldemort, his inspection of the room totally done.

"It happens..." Harry started, "almost exactly like that every night, I lay awake waiting for him and then I go to sleep, but he comes the moment I slip away. He'll twist the handle...call out to me, bang on the door before it swings open. You know the handle always gets stuck in the wall after, I'm not sure why... But it does.

"After that... the way he kills me changes almost every time. Sometimes I fight back, other times I just take it until I die, and no matter what magic doesn't ever work. Shame. I always think up good ways to get him back, too!" Harry said it as if talking about any other ordinary, daily event. Though the last with a sort of pout.

"I suppose I'm not usually here, though?" Voldemort asked, mildly amused by the small boy, who face seemed to be drenched to the core in blood. A hiss in his mind said the blood probably didn't taste so bad. Maybe even delicious. He smirked.

"No, this was your first appearance. That must be the reason I didn't totally die, and I'm here talking to you..." the tip of Harry's tongue slipped out of his mouth, like he was thinking about something so hard it just seemed to happen.

"Or maybe I did die and I just sort of got revived? I don't know... maybe I'm a...zombie! Which would be cool, granted not so much on the dead part... and I don't really want to eat your brains."

"Then you aren't a Zombie, are you then," Harry's bottom lip stuck out a bit in his pout, he sat back against his headboard and his arms crossed over his chest.

"Damn."

"...So when does this end?" Voldemort asked looking the room up and down curiously, trying no to look at Harry and not to make it too obvious that he didn't want to.

"Whenever you leave, I guess. I usually wake up right after I'm killed..." Harry drifted off looking up at Voldemort's pale face and glowing red eyes.

"Then I'm leaving," he moved to get up when Harry's hand shot out to grab hold of his wrist.

"But you never cut out my tongue for me," Harry said in a childish voice, opening his mouth and sticking out his pink tongue.

Voldemort smirked and leaned forward, his hand moved to the side of Harry's face letting his fingers trail in the blood. His eyes held a strangely bright glint in them and before Harry could think anything else about it, he felt Voldemort's tongue slip out of his mouth and lick his tongue.

"I'll get it later, I promise," Harry's tongue was back safe and sound, locked behind his clamped shut lips. The next thing he knew it Voldemort was standing up, but before leaving, Harry saw his long tongue slip out and lick the four blood stained fingers. In front of Harry's eyes the older wizard shimmered out of his view, and Harry's dream altogether.

XOXO

When Harry woke up from his nightmare he sat up in his bed only slightly worried about the fact that he'd dreamt about Voldemort. Especially about, well what he'd done with his tongue, and licking up his own blood. He felt a sort of chill go through his body, cooling down the heat that pulsed through his veins.

He sat up and wiped a cold sweat from his face, thankful now that there wasn't a hole there anymore. He moved himself out of his bed, not wanting to dwell on this any longer than he had to. He needed to get breakfast ready anyways.

As he dressed himself he tried not to think about all the blood, his death. It never did anything for him, it just made it that much harder for him to look at his Uncle the next day. The shirt he lifted over his head was one he'd had for years. One Dudley had passed on to him when he was only a kid, what was worse for him was that it fit like a glove.

Though slightly tight around the shoulders and chest. And other than the fact that the dark black shirt was fading and had holes in it, it was nice and comfortable. Something he'd had for a long time, that for some reason seemed to in a way, comfort him.

Setting the table only a short while later Harry realized that even though he had a long works day ahead of him, soon it would be over and soon it would be night again. And he would dream. A selfish part of his brain couldn't help but think he wanted Voldemort there. And his stomach turned.

Skiving on breakfast he took his list of things he needed to do for the day and set off to doing the inside work first. Vacuuming, dusting, mopping, sweeping, cleaning the bathrooms and such. All things mindless enough to keep him from thinking about what he'd dreamt of.

When Harry passed his cupboard he sent it a longing look, he wanted nothing more than to reach in there pull out his wand and curse the living hell out of someone or something. Mostly curse himself though, for thinking some of the things he'd though about Voldemort. Things that had made his breath catch or his heart beat just a little bit faster, that made his brain fog up as the blood collected there moved somewhere else.

He felt his fist hit the wall before he realized what he was doing.

XOXO

"Severus," Voldemort called from high on his throne like dais, his snake Nagini curled around his legs and waist.

"My Lord," the man bowed low to him.

"I want more potion, my body will heal faster. You'll make it, I want it done," when the potion's master hadn't moved yet his eyes flashed.

"Now," his voice was commanding, cold and harsh. Pain was most promised in every syllable.

Severus felt himself move to get up but his feet paused and his body twisted back a ways to look at Voldemort.

"Faster, my Lord? You know this potion well, sir. And you know what would be needed for an acceleration in speed," Severus said knowing that even if he were to be cursed for this disrespect, he had to risk it.

"I do."

"More of Potter's blood," Severus confirmed. And Voldemort nodded his head.

"I know. And we'll have it."

"But-"

"I will get him, Severus. I will bring him to you and you will have all the blood you need," as the wheels in his twisted mind began to turn Severus could practically feel his skin begin to crawl. He did not envy Potter right now. In fact he never had.

XOXO

A/N: The second one done! I hope you all like it! Thanks so much for all your great reviews! I loved them! -sigh- You guys are the best! The next chapter, I think should be a real treat. I can't wait to write it! I might not update until Thursday but I will try and get a couple chapters out before I go to the beach Saturday. I'll be back Sunday so no big deal, I can update Monday again. But I at least wanted you all to know!

I hope you decide to review!

-Bloody