A Dreamers Dream

We don't talk enough, we should open up. Ireland.

And there we stayed, side by side on my tiny hotel bed. Harry's arms locked around me with one hand tracing patterns on my back, his chin resting gently on the top of my head, in silence.

Neither of us seemed to be in any hurry to release the other, so I let myself lay in the protective bubble for as long as I felt I could reasonably get away with. Only sitting up when my neck started to cramp from being in a strange position for too long.

As I straightened I risked a glance at Harry and saw his plump pink lips pressed tightly together and a frown creasing his features, his hands which were now free from me, clasped in his lap in tight fists. Shit.

Abruptly he stood, startling me a little, and began pacing around the small room. Managing only four or five strides with his long legs before meeting an obstacle and tutting under his breath at having to turn and change direction. Well this can't be good, I thought to myself, as the calm I was feeling just moments ago floated away and my stomach tied itself up in knots again.

"Harry?" I asked timidly, and he snapped his head up to look at me, it seemed to take him a moment to remember I was even there.

"I'm sorry. I told Sammy I wouldn't do this in front of you. I just. Argh! I want to fucking kill him!" He growled, his usually bright green eyes darkening with fury. "Men like that make me sick, how dare he think he could treat you like that? I'm going to be placing a few calls in the morning if he honestly thinks for one second that he's going to get away with this... "

"I just want to forget about it," I reply in little more than a whisper, the venom in his voice making me afraid to speak in case I manage to piss him off even more.

"No." came his stern reply after a few moments of silence.

"No? What do you mean, no?"

"I mean, no. We aren't just going to forget about this and wait for him to pull the same shit on someone else, someone not as strong as you, someone who leaves with more than bruises and a broken hand. I won't have that on my conscience, and neither will you." Harry states and, although I may not know him that well yet, even I am not so stupid enough as to think that there is any point in trying to argue with him, so I keep my mouth firmly shut.

I watch him in silence for a few more minutes as he continues to pace. Occasionally running his hand through his hair, which, without its usual styling, looks longer and curlier than I have seen it before.

Eventually, he sits back down on Sammy's bed opposite me and expels a large puff of air. He takes a few moments to compose himself before raising his eyes to meet mine again, and I notice, with relief that they are reverting back to their normal colour as he calms down.

"Can you tell me what happened? Please?" He asks solemnly, and although I knew he was going to ask, I still feel a chill run down my spine at the thought of having to relive it all again and shake my head slowly.

"Harry.. I... I really don't think I can"

"I know it's not easy and I wouldn't ask if it weren't necessary. I'm not just trying to pry or whatever here. I need to know what he did before I start making calls. If you'd rather not talk to me, we could call the police? Get this resolved officially? Why didn't you just call them in the first place?" He asks, raising his eyebrows at me as if this question has only just occurred to him.

"Because.. well they have much more important things to be dealing with! And it would have just been my word against his, some little nobody against a big wig record executive? They wouldn't have cared if I had called." I tell him, getting frustrated now. "And we are not calling them now either! I don't want to get some kind of reputation amongst your colleagues as that girl who reported Novak. I've probably already ruined the best chance I had at getting my dream Harry don't you understand that? I'm not about to make it any worse!"