AN: Writer's Block... Thanks Foxtrot1702 for the advise and the comment! Makes me feel assured. And thank you everyone for reading. I have nothing else to add. Follow/Fav/Review
Laying deep within the forest, Mortimer rests his head underneath his palms. It was quiet and dark. The only source of light was the moonlights shinning gaze. A cold bitter wind blew against his feeble body. Causing him to shake as he clenches his teeth shut. He was starting to feel drowsy while parts of his face and arms burned with irritation.
Tobey slithers slowly up to him, almost like he was trying to keep him awake. A small comfort, Mortimer was glad to know he wasn't alone. The little companion starts licking his dirt covered fingers. His master doesn't respond.
"Let me hurt them." Tobey says, resting around his shoulder.
Tight-lipped, there was no reply. If he were honest, the thought was there. A small desire to retaliate against those who hurt him. But what good would that do? He'll only be proving them right in their assumptions. A yearn to give up, he wanted to quit. Quit this stupid world and go back to his own little box where he felt safe.
Now that he was alone, his abnormal glassy eyes were free to spill the tears he's been holding inside. The sharp biting sensation of humiliation ran through his conscious. It's not the first time he's felt this way, the only difference was that it was public, where everyone could see him.
With his eyes closed shut, mortimer could faintly hear a stampede of unknown footsteps. Sounding like it could just be some horses roaming, he ignores it and goes back to sulking.
The animals hooves got closer until it stopped only a few feet away.
"Child you should not be here." A near menacing voice spoke to him.
But Mortimer did not care; not anymore. "Leave me alone."
"Filthy human! How dare you – " Another input was made, this one had no tolerance.
"Be still." Firm, mortimer assumed he was the leader, by which the one had listened. The stranger sounded civil enough to talk to. "You are trespassing on our grounds. Return to your sort. We cannot guarantee your safety against the dark forces that rest here."
Finally opening his eyes, Mortimer sits up. His eyes turn big when his mind registers that these weren't wizards. They were talking horses – Men? Horse Men?
"Centaurs. . ." Covered in dirt, he said in a wispy tone. He's read about them; aware that they could easily stomp him like a mere bug. He was curious to know the strangers standing before him.
Their leader reaches behind his back to take out what appeared to be his bow. "What business do you have here child? Do you carry a death wish?" His men made loud snorting noises, at the same time stomping their hooves in disapproval.
"I wanted to get away." Mortimer said numbly, his mind churning.
The centaur moves his neck slightly, he gives the order to another. "Bane, retrieve the ground's keeper. Tell him we found another one."
As directed, he swiftly moves away from his pact, running, bane vanishes within the fog. "Firenze, he can not be trusted." Mortimer heard the man, glancing at the group of centaurs they appeared weary. "He carries a taint –"
"Silence." Firenze grips his bow tightly, his eyes move down at the boy who sat on a buddle of twigs. "Get up boy. You out stayed your welcome. You do not belong here."
Mortimer couldn't say anything more than stare. Despite their serious faces, he noted the nervous look their eyes bore. They were afraid of something. But what? It probably wasn't wise to think about it. Firenze looks about ready to shoot him with his pointed arrow.
"It seems like I don't belong anywhere." Mortimer stilled. He lifts himself up from the ground, brushing his sleeves and pants.
Ignoring his statement, Firenze's focus was elsewhere as he puts his bow away. "What happened to your hands boy?"
Inspecting his own hands, Mortimer could see the burn marks that formed. A grim reminder of his own humiliation, he plainly answers. "They burned me."
"Ronan." Their leader calls out, he offers mortimer his large hand. The one named Ronan appears, wearing a ragged satchel.
A few seconds of rummaging, Ronan present Mortimer with what appeared to be a salve.
Ronan was hesitant at first. He was staring with strange prudence, like if there was something latching on to the boy. Under Firenze's orders Ronan takes Mortimer's tiny hands into his own. Slowly rubbing the cream around his burnt skin.
Tobey, who wrapped himself around his master's neck, was watching, keeping vigilant in case the target became hostile. There was a small hiss coming from him when mortimer groaned in ache. Ronan could sense the snake's protective nature that he tips his head, letting Tobey know he meant no harm towards his young master.
A minute passes as Ronan rubs the strange salve around his frail wrists. It felt cool; calm as he continues to rub his palms. Almost immediately, mortimer could feel it working when the harsh irritation that once pained him turns into cold relief.
Firenze observes the boy, waiting. Was he expecting something to happen? Mortimer couldn't quite tell. They were certainly mysterious, vague about the world around them. They didn't answer to anyone but their own and in some way, Mortimer respected that. He was on their turf, they could have easily killed him right there and then.
Once Ronan had finished applying the salve, he retrieved back into his herd. Firenze waited, but then began sniffing around. The others notice this as well and they too begin to look for the source.
There was a struggling sound of various yells. What sounded like a group of children, all but stumbled into Firenze's view. Mortimer was more than surprised to find Draco and a few others.
There three other centaurs coming from behind the children. "Firenze, we found more of them, loitering around our boarders." A near snarl, one of them speaks, letting out a snort of annoyance.
"Draco?" Mortimer, gaping at the group. Draco wasn't alone, there Theo had staggered, along with Tracey and Daphne. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Looking for you!" Yelled Draco. He ignores the noises coming from the centaurs.
Composing his legs, Draco marched up to push Mortimer back. "Idiot! What were you thinking going off like that?! Do you know how dangerous it is to be out here?"
"I –" Mortimer startled as Tracey ran, only to start rattling him like a salt shaker.
Tracey barked, distraught at his carelessness. "We were all worried. We thought something bad happened to you! It was terrible –"
Thankfully, Theo had came to pull Davis away. Daphne took over, maneuvering Tracey to the side while she wailed, continuing to spat her concerns and fears for Mortimer.
"You've been gone for hours." Theo calmly came to Draco's side. "We went looking for you and the forest was a safe bet."
Cracking his neck, mortimer was nervous, fidgeting, growing more noticeable as he took a deep breath. It was easy to tell what he was thinking. "You're coming back, right?" Draco puzzled. It sounded like a dumb question. But it needed to be asked.
His cousin can be unpredictable at times. There was no telling what he'd do next. "I don't want to." The question wasn't whether he wanted to but more so to see where his mind was at.
Mortimer didn't want to go back. He didn't want to face the people that tormented him. A punch, he could handle. But being constantly reminded of who he was, who he belonged to, created an effect that confused him. It was like he didn't even know who he was as a person. There was no identity, no way to distinguish himself between Black and Slytherin.
Both were bad and just as equally hated. They were once respected but their downfall was their own. The name didn't matter to him He just wanted to be Mortimer, no name attached.
"Finnigan will pay for this." Draco swore under his breath.
Seeing the anger in his eyes made Mortimer feel a little better. To know that someone cared for him in a way that was new. Theo, Tracey and Daphne's presence had brought in a sense of warmth.
A sad smile, mortimer shakes his head; he appreciates the gesture. "Thanks, but I'll be ok."
Firenze, watching the children the engage, waited patiently with his group. They talked amongst each other sharing a look ever so often. They were all still nervous, a terrible feeling lingered but have remained calm. The sooner Bane returns with the ground's keeper, the better he'll feel once they get away.
Magnus, another centaur, approaches him, whispering mindfully as Firenze scouts the area. "You can feel it. We all can feel it. The little human should not be here."
A huff in breath, Firenze agrees. "Yes. We will wait for bane's return. Once that is done, we leave. It is too risky considering with what has happened among the green."
No one knew how much time had passed. The children were getting tired. If Bane didn't show up soon, Firenze would send a group to search for them.
"We heard what happened." Daphne solemnly stares at Mortimer. A sense of guilt hits her. "I apologize if I was cruel to you."
Mortimer shook his head. There was no need since she's never actually done anything to him. Other than giving him a cold a shoulder, but she was like that with everyone.
He doesn't expect her, or anyone, to change. "I don't need your pity Greengrass."
"It isn't pity." Her hands clenching, she confesses. "At first, I thought you were like Malfoy, a spoiled brat –"
"Hey!" Draco shouts at the insult.
Daphne ignores him, rolling her eyes, she continues. "And for some apparent reason, Tracey seems to trust you enough, so, I guess I will too." There was pause, her expression turning dark. "But if you do anything to ruin her friendship I'll hex into the after life."
Mortimer didn't know what to say. On one hand, he was flattered to know they thought of him as a friend. On the other hand, Daphne's threat seemed more of a promise than anything.
A nod was only given as a response.
The five children waited at a nearby tree. Hargrid has yet show up and with the long wait, Firenze seemed more concerned.
However, they didn't need to wait long, their concern instantly vanishing once Bane had returned; hagrid trailing not far behind.
"Hello? Ain' no one gonna shoot me right?" The that sounded like it belonged to the ground's keeper. The half giant's shadowy figure came to view.
Hagrid must have been in middle of something. His face was covered in dirt; hands too. To be honest, it was a look he constantly wore that it would be no surprise if they found out that the man rolls in dirt for a living.
Holding a lantern, he smiled, waving his large hand at the group of centaurs. "Hiya' Firenze." He eyes the leader nervously, then turning his attention towards the children. "Heh' children."
"You are free to take them. But I warn you Hagrid. The next time, we will not be so welcoming." Firenze declared with solemn intent. He casts one final look at Mortimer. "I pity you for what's to come."
And with that, Firenze let out a blaring snort, he stands on his hind legs before riding out into the forest. The others soon follow, repeating the same sounds as they vanish into the forest.
"Right' children, let's go." Hagrid dusted off some crud that rested on his belly.
Draco didn't hide his disgust, making a noise. "Ugh – Why didn't they bring someone who actually knows what their doing?"
Following the giant, Mortimer keeps his pace beside Theo. The other girls somehow felt safe to walk next to Hagrid that Tracey began conversing about the forest and it's creatures.
As the girl and the giant talked, Mortimer started feeling a strange itch in the back of his head. He rubs it in hopes of ridding the uncomfortable sensation.
"You ok?" Asked draco moved beside mortimer, he notices the frown forming in his features.
"Ye-Yeah…" Mortimer answers in lie – Tobey offers a comforting squeeze. Maybe he just needed to sleep it off. Yeah, a night's slumber and he'll be good to go.
Arriving on the outskirts of the forest, they stopped on top of a hill that showed the school's structure in its entirety.
"Are we trouble?" Davis got worried. Despite finding Mortimer, part of her feared the consequences.
"Oh, I wouln' worry much. Am' sure Dumbledore will understand." A supportive smile, Hagrid stares at the castle, it was a marvelous sight. The children paused to admire it as well.
There was loud hissing noise, a warning of some kind. The children and the giant turn to see that it was Tobey making those odd sounds.
Mortimer couldn't very well talk to him at the moment without revealing his parseltongue. "What's wrong tobey?" He asks without the ability.
Tobey doesn't answer. The ongoing hisses were uninterrupted. Exposing his honed teeth and sharp tongue, the children find themselves unsettled.
"Is yer' lil fella alright?" Pointing, hagrid questioned. He wondered what could of caused this strange reaction. The castle seemed harmless, nothing out the ordinary.
There was pause on Mortimer's part. He wasn't entirely certain what was going on with him. At the same time, the itch on back of his head was starting to burn, thumping in pain, which only increased with time.
Draco blinked, his expression impassive, to then squinting his eyes. As if purposefully trying to see what the snake might be seeing. "What's that in the sky?" Informing everyone, his small finger points towards the castle.
There was a dark violent mist soaring into the sky. Dawning from the very roof of school, the children watched in amazement. Hagrid had very few words to say, staring across the castles and its ground, his mouth drawn into a taut at the dusky obscuration.
Mortimer was determinedly frozen at the spot, standing behind the rest, unspeaking, barely moving, and only blinking when he needed to, which was hardly.
His mind had drifted into delirium, to thoughts of a strange cloaked figure with the foulest of teeth, terrible skin, near gunmetal grey, eyes, nonexistent. But Mortimer could tell they were profuse in menacing, terrifying commitment. It was more monstrous than human, it was simply not possible for a human to be this atrociously vile.
Tobey's endless whirring racket went on for several seconds. Theo's attention was on the murky fog. Something in the back of his mind told him to check on Mortimer. To his unexpected surprise, he sees his friend bleeding from nose. It was different this time. Normally, for any person, it was a dark redish colour that leaked down. This time however, it was a pure pitch black tone. An odd image, his eyes seemed near different as well. Theo couldn't quite place it, but somewhere in the pit of his stomach was warning him.
It was there when Mortimer suddenly cried out in pain. Hands grips his head tightly, his head throbbing in ache while veins burning like poison. His body goes limp as he falls onto the wintery chipped ground. Blinded by his own convulsion, mortimer doesn't hear his name being called out. Five figures surround his vision, yet is unable to identify.
His vision goes cold and the last thing he can recall is an embrace of what he would like to call death.
Waking up was a mistake. The second his eyes had opened, the harsh sunlight glaze flashed his very pupils. His small mouth let's out a soft groan. Making a bluster of racket, it grabs the attention of the one person who was in room with him.
"Mortimer." A soft feminine voice calls to him, it soothes him for the moment.
A pleasing hand pushes his hair back, massaging his forehead. It takes him a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight's bright stare. He blinks more once his vision becomes more clear.
Mortimer was in the hospital wing, again. And yet he did not expect the presence of his Aunt. She was watching him, down-hearted to see him in such state of weakness and bedridden.
"Aunt Cissy? What's going on? Wh-What happened?" His head going in different directions. There a confused expression casting his eyes.
"Shhh…" She whispers in attempt. "You're fine – Everything is fine now."
Mortimer isn't sure who she's trying to convince. "Where's Draco?"
"In the middle of class, he'll be out soon though. He hasn't left your side since you've arrived, you know." Rather rambling to herself than anything, Mortimer was quickly losing his patients. "Your cousin has been kind enough to watch over your little pet while you were asleep – I swear, it is so impatient, always trying to get out of its cage. Do you –"
Why Aunt Cissy was continuing this charade was beyond Mortimer but it was soon apparent that his aunt was trying to avoid the unspoken issue. The one that had occurred over the holiday.
Haven't been put into much thought, Mortimer didn't know what to think. Part him felt betrayed for being lied to, fooled to have believed anyone would care, if not for only his name. Was his aunt here because she cared? Or was it to see if their investment had gone to waste? What was real and what was not, it was undecided at the moment.
"Why are you here?" It was soft but gave a wounding effect.
Narcissa paled, rather hurt than anything. You'd think it was coming from her own son. Yet, Draco would never dare to treat his mother in a way, he loved her too much to consider hurting her. "I was worried; scared. Your head of house contacted your uncle about what happened. I came as soon as I heard."
His heart beating rapidly, clasped both hands together. There was a sigh of maintaining composure on his part. "A-And what did he tell you?"
There was a long pause. She hesitated before answering as she rested a hand on top of his forehead. "You had a terrible seizure. Draco was so scared, as we all were!" She quickly inserted. "I demanded to know more. They say it was caused by excessive amounts of stress…"
So Professor Snape has covered for him, probably under dumbledore's orders. Which was fine by him, there was no need to tell others about the details leading to his suppose 'seizure'. "But why are you here? They could of just sent a letter, or have uncle in your place. As you can see, I'm fine now."
There it was again. The hurtful expression casting her once beautiful features. Removing her warm hand away, she was paled. Her once bright blue eyes dimmed into dullness. "I will not tolerate crass behavior. I understand you are still very sore about…" Brushing it off, she goes on. "I came because I worried about your safety. You may not believe me Mortimer, parseltongue or not, I will still cherish you. You are my nephew."
His dark eyes wandered away. Without any sort of reply, she announces. "I came to retrieve you."
A short sense of fear hits him. Wait – What?
"I clearly made the mistake of thinking you would adjust so easily. Struggling was inevitable but not to the point that it would make you so ill. Worry not nephew, I've come to take you away. Maybe in a few years you might make a return."
"No!" Mortimer shouts, upright and rigid, he refused to accept a crazy notion. The image of being cooped up in the manor alone was enough to drive him insane. "No – I'm fine – I swear! I-I – It's –"
Mortimer stutters his words while his Aunt appeared far less convinced. "It is a difficult alteration but your uncle and I have agreed that this the best course of action. Safe and watched – Not where you are self-inflicting that little head of yours."
It was awful to hear, meandering speech than natural, she sounded fearful. What was worse, that Mortimer found himself guilty for worrying her. Because he had been careless, neglecting himself, he never thought about those around him. Not the mention what that means for his future.
"Aunt Cissy please. You can't." It was poorly explained, but it was all Mortimer could think of. "It's my fault! Draco tried to warn me not to over do it. But I couldn't help it." Panic slowly building. "I was trying to make up for lost time. I-I needed to catch up with the rest of you."
"Rest of us?" Narcissa's face fell in confusion, unsure by what he meant. "What do you mean?"
Mortimer felt embarrassed over how desperate he sounded, but he needed her to understand without knowing too much. "You were right. I was over exerting myself, barely eating, sleeping. I thought it was necessary. I mean look at me – I was raised by a muggle and have little knowledge about our world. I have to prove to myself – to everyone – that. . . That I belong here."
For the most part, it was true. He knew so little about wizarding politics. Constant eyes that judged without reason, no explanation of any kind, Mortimer was well aware of the interest he had attracted. Which is why it was important that he didn't slip up, not now, not in this early stage.
"Please aunt cissy. You can't take me now. I promise I won't over do it this time. I'll listen this time. I-I'll even write to you more. Please." Mortimer begged, sitting up he grabs her hands with his own, hoping she'd change her mind.
"Oh my darling boy." She cups his cheek. "Why would you think that you don't belong here? Of course you do – Make no mistake about it, I care not about who in particularly raised you. What's important now is that you are here."
"Then… will you let me stay?" Mortimer, willing to bury any animosity between them, wanted her to comply with his demands.
A stretched, excruciating pause, it had him on edge. He grips the sheets tightly, anticipating her answer.
Mortimer was finally able to breath when she answered; calm as can be. "I'm not sure Mortimer –"
He doesn't give her time to finish, cutting her response short. "Please Aunt Cissy. I've accomplished a lot. If you were to take me out now, all my hard work would have been for nothing. My friends – I-I won't get see my friends anymore."
Narcissa's eyes were low on him, soft and warm but still indifferent. "I am either too weak, or your cunning skills have been perfected. You are determined to stay, no? Your professors have all but said great things about you. You continue to impress your peers with the talent you posses. And for what nephew? So you could work yourself to death? I won't have it. I care too much for you. Your uncle Lucius doesn't see anything wrong with it but I do. And I won't allow it to continue."
Mortimer's face fell. How was he suppose to convince her now? His Aunt's determination had all but caused him dread. It was only a matter of time before Madam Pomfrey would slip in and tell him he was well enough to go. Time was of the essence and diverges needed to be made.
"I'd like to be alone now." Done with politeness, mortimer tells her in rather low, unkind, tone.
He lays back in bed, turning his head over, her nephew refuses to look at her. "Should you need me –"
"I won't."
"I'll be in Professor Snape's office." Mortimer hears her clanking heels as they walk out the hospital wing.
Once her footsteps can no longer be heard, he let's out a insufferable breath that he's been holding in. What's he going to do now? His words weren't enough to convince her. What option did he have now? He was slowly losing time laying about when he should be thinking other methods.
Madam Pomfrey makes herself know, walking towards him, she greets him. "Ah – good you're finally awake. Your friends have been fretting over you." Holding a tray of various potion's, she grabs one of them and hands it to Mortimer. "Now, drink this. It should stop your muscles from aching."
Following her orders, he drinks the bitter taste of the potion after which, makes a face in disgust. Just as he finishes another is handed to him, then another. Once he's drowns the last vial, a tall figure looms behind the nurse. It could only be Dumbledore. Mortimer's guess, the headmaster had a knack for showing up in bizarre moments such as these.
"Mr. Black has finally awoken." Walking towards Madam Pomfrey, he nods his head. "You've given us a fright my dear boy. But I am relieved to see you up and well. Good on you Poppy."
"I warn you now Albus, Mr. Black is no condition to be conversing. What ever you have to say, make it quick." Her eyes, though sparkling, conveyed the wrath of a woman who made promises, not threats. "I will give you five minutes."
"How about eight?" Dumbledore jested.
"Two." Her final decision was made before closing the curtain, giving them privacy.
Alone with the headmaster, Mortimer had a faint guess as to what he might want to discuss. So before Dumbledore could say anything, he spoke first. "I don't know what happened."
His hand is raised, commanding him to say no more. "It's alright my dear boy. I am not here to discuss that. But rather the sole reason for your aunts presence here today. She whishes to pull you out completely. While the year is almost over, she sees no point in continuing the course."
The way Dumbledore said it made Mortimer wonder why it was important he does not leave the school. Don't him wrong, Mortimer agreed with him, having to spend years in the Manor with little contact caused his heart to beat rather fast. The idea of being locked away, he didn't like it.
"What should I do? I tried talking to her – I begged, begged her! To let me stay, but she wouldn't have it. Unless you have an idea, this is probably the last time I'll see you." Dumbledore knew he'd been worried about leaving, but what could he say? The only answer available was honesty, something Mortimer found difficult to do.
"I will be honest Mortimer. There things out there that can put you in danger. With you away, I can not protect you. With your father's return, it will only get worse for you and those involved. Your only solution now is… to tell the truth."
"My father's return? What do you mean?" He panicked for a brief moment, his body froze. Mortimer wasn't ready for him, he was still weak. Should he come face with him, he wouldn't survive, Mortimer was sure of it.
"You heard correctly. Unfortunately, I believe your father has taken the first step in emerging himself back into the world. As I said, It will be impossible to reach you, should your aunt forbid you."
His head feeling numb, Mortimer has a hard time understanding. "B-But you told me I shouldn't. That no one can know… What's the point? And what about my father? What does this mean for me?"
"It could mean several things." Shaking his head, he uses his words. Thinking of a proper answer at a short notice. "I know what I said. Desperate times, desperate measures. And sadly this may be the only solution. Your aunt refuses to acknowledge the unforeseeable threats. It comes to being forward, as painful as it might be for you. I suggest you take it, your aunt should be arriving soon and I doubt she'd appreciate us talking to one another."
Clenching the bedsheets tightly, Mortimer was repulsed at the idea. The more he thought of it, the more he appeared smaller. It was a matter of out weighing his options. Out the of the two, which one was worse? Getting beat up everyday? Bullied? Picked on for being born? Or leaving with Aunt cissy. Where he most likely spend his entire youth in a cold distant manor. Alone. No one to bother him, except Lucius – Probably. Only because the idiot felt the constant need to brag to others that he was raising syltherin's last heir. There was also a possibility that Lucius might try to mold him into something Mortimer was not, like his father.
It was a tough choice for him. But at least here, he had Draco, even his 'friends', who seemed to care for some reason. Still haven't figured out why. It felt good to be sought after, to be needed and looked after, it was new to him, however, there were still times when it became too much for him that he felt the need to isolate himself.
Mortimer says nothing in return, lowering his head, there was nothing else to add, nothing left to do other than sit back, trembling like a frighten kitten in the back corner.
With no further exchange of words, Dumbledore gives him a soft pat on the shoulder before opening the curtain, leaving the poor boy to his own thoughts.
How much time has passed, Mortimer didn't know, but he didn't exactly care either. His mind was spiraling wild ideas that only succeeded in upsetting him further. There was a show of nervousness and worry that he didn't bother to turn his head when his name is being called.
"Mortimer." His aunt has returned, standing and moving underneath the curtain.
There was no escaping. Thinking over Dumbledore's advise, what's the worse thing that could happen? Mortimer stopped to look at her, still pondering, not knowing if she is trust worthy. To actually be honest, to better understand why he feels a certain way. Or lie, and have her think that he was simply being childish.
Aunt Cissy starts to speak again. "I've spoken to the nurse, you should be set in a hour –"
"Can I tell you something Aunt Cissy?" Mortimer began, lifeless, his dark hair covered his face as he stares down to his hands. "It's important."
His Aunt continues to stand there, but hearing the worry tone in his statement made her take a seat near a chair set beside the bed. "Are you not feeling well?"
The dry throat lingered as Mortimer tried finding the sentence to begin. An attempt at not closing himself, he was struggling. "I'm fine." Head remaining low, he gripped the blankets. "I don't want to go."
A long sigh coming from Narcissa, having gone through this already she wasn't going to give up. "We've already discussed this. My decision is final."
"I'm scared." Air going in and out of his lungs as he tries to relax, unaware that his nails were starting to tear the skin on his palms. "I don't want to leave… because I'm scared to be alone. After Nana…" He stops.
He couldn't do it.
There was no way he could tell her.
His heart beating fast, body shaking, near impossible to press further. The heart inside his chest pounded from exertion and his muscles tingled in a burning sensation.
Thunderous boasting of sounds filled his ear drums. It was fuzzy and faint, but he could tell that there was a lot of yelling taking place. He didn't know where it was coming from. With him slowly losing the fight against his own will, mortimer starts sinking, drowning within the dreary conceptions of his very own mind.
Fragments of his nightmare fitted through his sub conscious, made worse every second. He fell backwards against his pillow.
Mortimer feels a sort of pressure on his shoulders. What's with everyone shaking him? There was nothing wrong with him. Nothing at all. So what if he intended to doze off every now and again. Mortimer was sure ever kid had moments of unclarity, some more than others.
His name being shouted again, a faint figure of his aunt in the background came to view. She appeared fright stricken. Madam Pomfrey was shouting at another person. Professor Snape had emerged himself inside the room, he was shoving something in front of his face. The back part of his brain was telling him to open his mouth, at which point Mortimer did.
Sense of sight have gone blear.
He was being moved again. Only this time he was being held. Silky, warm and caring arms cover him, stroking his head. The smell of sweet roses brim his nostrils. For once, he felt safe. A gentle voice talk to him, almost guiding, telling him to come back.
Seconds tick by and Mortimer is no closer than where he was before. He didn't understand what was happening or why he couldn't move. At least the memories were gone.
"Please don't make me go." Mortimer doesn't know what he's pleading for. But just wants it to stop tormenting him, to leave him in peace.
When his pulse dies down, he calmly begins to relax. Breathing deeply, inhaling the beautiful scent of flowers that was emitted from a motherly occupant. Recollections of terrible times faded within minutes, the more he's held. It was feeling that he never wanted to end, to stay in this position, of the very warm embrace.
"Rest my dear nephew." Is the last thing Mortimer can recall before drifting off once again.