Author's Note: So, I am starting off with a few warnings since we will be earning our rating. This chapter might be triggering to some. It deals with substance abuse and there is a graphic male/female sex scene. You have been warned.
Harry frowned at the two remaining vials in his pouch. He had not, as Draco had recommended, used them sparingly. Between his yearning for a dreamless sleep and his desperate need to feel at peace, he had lost track of his usage. A sick feeling settled in his stomach as he pulled the drawstring closed and shoved the pouch under his pillow – tonight he would have to face his demons.
Ron was snoring loudly in the next bed over. Harry resisted the urge to crawl in next to him. He was just so alone – and so terrified. He didn't want to see them die again. His chest tightened in apprehension, his skin prickled uncomfortably, his breathing becoming erratic. He couldn't live like this. Frantically, he dug the pouch out from under his pillow. He just needed it one more time. Tomorrow – tomorrow he would be stronger.
With a sigh of relief, he swallowed the potion – the milky white liquid warmed his throat, spreading throughout his body. Since he was developing a resistance it was taking longer and longer for the potion to take effect. Instead, he spent a considerable amount of time in a sort of blissful in-between – not quite awake but not quite asleep. Lazily, he returned the pouch to its hiding spot, enjoying the euphoric feeling of the sheets sliding across his skin as he moved. He let his eyes drift shut, the gentle sounds of his own breathing sounding like ocean waves crashing on the beach. Everything felt right with the world. With a sigh that seemed to last an eternity, he slowly faded away.
His return to the land of the living came way too soon; daylight was still hours away. Groggily, he dug out the last vial and swallowed it down without a second thought. He just needed a little more sleep before he faced the day. Like sliding into a relaxing bath, his senses were engulfed in a feeling of tranquility. He never wanted to leave this warm embrace. Was this what being held in your mother's arms felt like? He wasn't sure – it just felt nice. His thoughts floated gently away.
<<<<< >>>>>
He heard a voice from far away. "Harry, wake up. You're going to be late."
He was vaguely aware that someone had their hand on his shoulder, shaking him. "Wakey, wakey," the voice taunted, shaking him again. He wanted it to go away.
"Come on," the voice whined. He couldn't figure out why it was being so persistent.
The warmth that had been surrounding him instantly disappeared; he shivered against the invading chill with a loud groan, curling himself into a ball.
The voice was undeterred – he felt a tickle across the back of his neck that he tried to squirm away from. The more alert he became, the more the pounding in his head increased in intensity. His mouth felt like sandpaper, his eyes like lead, his stomach like it had been used for origami. He brought a hand to his face to cover his eyes against the invading sunlight.
"Seriously," Ron exclaimed in exasperation. "What is wrong with you this morning?"
His thoughts were becoming more coherent as he was pulled out of the abyss of sleep.
"Just tired," he replied, yawning. "Not done sleeping yet."
"If you don't get up right now," Ron chided, "you'll miss breakfast."
"Uhnnn," Harry groaned. "Don't need breakfast – just sleep."
Ron grabbed him by the shoulders, hauling him into a sitting position against the headboard, in order to give him a stern look.
YOU ARE READING
When the Snow Melts
Fanfiction[COMPLETE] How can love blossom in the midst of hatred? How can it catch you so suddenly and unexpectedly? Draco's 6th year was not at all going how he had planned. But a friendship, a relationship with Harry? That was definitely not something he sa...
