Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Lyrics belong to Evanescence.

Dream Walker

By dented-sky

       

Still can't find what keeps me here
And all this time I've been so hollow inside
Watching me, wanting me
I can feel you haunt me down
Fearing you, loving you
I know I'll find you somehow

-- "Haunted", by Evanescence

Terry trudged trough thick cold snow with a heavy cloak and a heavy conscience, knowing he should not be out here after curfew but also knowing that he had to see it again; he had to feel it again: that dream like state, with the images and the knowledge so powerful that it could knock you unconscious. He loved it; he loved the feeling of floating and see and surfing the future’s images like a wave and feeling the need and ache of deciphering a future’s codes. His fingers started to tingle and he walked faster, entering the Forbidden Forest without a backward glance.

There was a rustling in the bushes nearby and he stopped to listen. After a moment of listening to silence he sighed.

Why was he doing this? One more day and most of the students will have left for Christmas break, and he could have plenty of time then.

But it was just so addictive; this feeling of power. The idea that he had something no one else had. Something he discovered and called his own. Oh if Mandy only knew! Not even Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, would have anything on him now.

Harry.

Terry ran his fingers through his dark hair and continued to walk through the forest. The snow was thinner here because of the large trees that loomed darkly around him. They whispered things that Terry could only barely hear, like words blown into the wind, and he smiled. Harry made him smile too sometimes. They would sit in the library, or in the courtyard pretending to study. But they would be joking and laughing and making fun of Malfoy.

Once they were sitting in the snow, marveling at their freshly made snow angels, when Harry had reached and gently pushed away a strand of Terry’s hair that had gotten stuck to his lip and Terry had gasped when Harry’s hand softly brushed his cheek. Harry’s lips were red and wet back then, Terry remembers. As Harry put his glove back on, Terry had stood up, mumbled some excuse and took off to the castle, hoping Harry had not seen his blush. His stomach was doing flips and he felt so stupid. Later Hermione kept asking him what was wrong, and he felt that she was maybe the biggest mistake of all.

Oh God. He was supposed to be a Ravenclaw and yet he felt so utterly wrong these days.

Hermione. They had said while at dinner or breakfast or even during Charms Class, “Oh but you two are so good together!” And they really seemed like it too. Hermione with her good looks and obsession with academia. Motivated but too brave for Slytherin, loyal but too impatient for Hufflepuff, intelligent but too spontaneous for Ravenclaw so she was sorted into the next best thing, and Terry supposed it made her special.

They were paired up for an Arithmancy class exercise and Mandy could not keep her big mouth shut. By the end of the project, Terry found himself with a new girlfriend, and he was rather happy at first.

They went on strange little dates. Only to the lake and Hogsmeade, but it was fun. She got to know his best friend Mandy Brocklehurst and he got to get to know hers, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. He remembers the first thing Harry said to him since they were properly introduced: “You’re the new Ravenclaw seeker, aren’t you?” and he had beamed up at Terry and Terry knew right then. This was it. This was what it was supposed to be like.

Ever since, when he kissed Hermione quickly in the corridors between classes or by the stands during a Qudditch game or in the Prefects bathroom after hours or… he was wishing those eyes were green, that hair was dark, that body was lean and flat-chested and she did not smell of old books and ink, but of grass, pumpkins and possibly a hint of the Owlery in there too.

Terry, still standing in the snow amongst the whispering trees, shook himself from his memories. It was bloody ridiculous, and tomorrow night he would have to take Hermione to the Christmas Ball and watch while Harry danced with Ginny Weasley and laughed with her and held her and kissed her…

No, don’t go there Terry.

Terry had finally walked himself to his destination. Purple-blue eyes scanned the area before he knelt down beside a small hole in the ground, about the size of a bathroom basin. It was full of thick silver liquid, much like Unicorns blood.

He closed his eyes and focused. This was the best bit. He opened his eyes and watched the forest swim and go into blurry focus. Looking down into the silver liquid he saw faint images start to form in front of his eyes. He felt the hot rush in his blood and the tingle in his hands and feet as the image took form. First it was of hearts, red and strong, then in front of them stood a girl around his age, golden blonde hair and harsh, amber eyes. She wore Slytherin school robes and a sad look on her face. Around her the hearts became black, pulsated then they all split at the same time, before the image blurred and Terry was taken out of his trance.

He took a deep breath. So, the next victim is a student at this school. That was better than last time, who turned out to be Wallerek Slate, the Minister of Goblin Affairs. At least he had access to the victim and could warn her.

He stood up, turned around and headed back to the school. So his next mission: warn Pansy Parkinson.

       

When he got back into the Great Hall, Hermione was waiting for him. He started.

“Where have you been?” she was angry, “I waited for you and you never showed up!”

He frowned, “Were we suppose to meet?”

She softened a bit and she looked unsure, “No but, you’re always in the Study Hall this late on Thursday nights - “

“Well I wasn’t this time, Hermione,” he snapped. He didn’t feel like talking to her right now. When he walked past her, she grabbed his arm.

“Terry…” she suddenly looked very sad and worried, “if you ever need to talk to me about something… anything…”

Terry sighed. He was tired and frustrated, and worried. If the Dream Walker was in the school, coming after students…

“Terry, I wish you’d talk to me more often. And,” she paused, “you haven’t kissed me in days.”

Terry was startled, “Oh,” was all he managed to say. Then he bent down and pressed his lips to hers.

He pulled away too quickly, and he was out the door before she could open her eyes.

       

Harry lay on his back, dreaming. Dreaming of strong arms and soft hair and tongues and lips. He dreamed of steam and sweat, and during his half-sleep his hands found his sex and he touched himself, stroking, long and slow at first, then short and fast, and he turned his head and gasped into his pillow.

After the sticky glue-like substance stuck his fingers together, he found himself floating into sleep again, only to be woken up to the worst thing you could wake up to, save Neville’s snores.

Seamus Finnigan was singing.

“I looked at the sky! Holding my hands! Over my eyes!” Harry snapped out of his sleep, tried to cover himself properly with his blanket but got tangled in his sheet instead. Kicking and grunting, he tried to get his toe and left hand unstuck. He did a quick flip and fell off the bed in a mess of white sheets, sticky pajamas and messy hair.

“’Till I fell out of bed! Hurting my head! From things that you said!”

Oh, how bloody appropriate, Harry thought sarcastically. He grumbled some nonsense and picked himself up and headed for the shower. Hot water splashed on his naked body and steam ghosted its way throughout the boys’ bathroom. He remembered his dream. A boy, on him, kissing him and making love to him harsh and soft and warm and cold all at the same time.

A boy. Harry banged his head on the stall wall. It was wrong, but it felt so right and no matter how he tried to push the images away during the day they always haunted him at night. He hated not being in control of these things, he always felt he was on top of everything in his life. But there were just some things about yourself that you can’t control: Being a Wizard, speaking parseltongue and now… this.

He met Ron and Hermione in the Common Room and headed down to breakfast.

“He’s been acting strangely lately,” Hermione was saying, “and I keep seeing him go into the Forbidden Forest at night. What do you think he’s up to?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t see him anymore, Hermione. He sounds like bad news.”

“He’s not a bad guy Ron,” Harry said. He turned to Hermione, “Maybe one of us should talk to Terry for you?”

Hermione smiled, then took on a determined look, “No, I better do that myself. Just keep an eye on him today for me, will you?”

“Of course!” Ron said a bit too loudly.

       

Harry, Ron and Hermione had Charms then History of Magic. Being the last day before the Christmas holidays and the Christmas Ball being that night, no body bothered to listen the Professor Binns drone on and on about the Amazon witches of East Windfall Island and how they declared war on the mainland four hundred years ago. It was cold and breezy in the classroom and everyone was huddled in their school robes, gloves and scarves trying desperately not to fall asleep. Harry and Ron were having a bet on how many drips of Blaise Zabini’s saliva would hit the table by the end of the lesson. Whoever was not asleep were passing notes to each other; Pavarity and Lavender making a good game of it and giggling uncontrollably. Malfoy caught Harry’s eye, and he smirked, waving copy of The Daily Profit.

“Accio Daily Profit,” Harry whispered. He caught the news paper and read the parchment that was attached to one of the pages.

I told you not to choose the loosing side. Now not even your mudblood friend is safe. - DM.

Harry glared at Malfoy across the room and Malfoy’s grey eyes glittered and he smirked even more. He turned from the Slytherin and read the page.

The Ministry confirmed today that a cabinet of plans regarding Goblin charms and wards were stolen. They are unsure of who has leaked the information to the Dark Order, but they wish to inform all not to panic. Even with the plans missing, the Ministry ensures that Gringotts is still secure -

Harry pushed the paper away, and let Ron and Hermione read it. He knew the paper was lying; now Voldemort had the upper hand in this damn war, even Hogwarts was not as safe as it could be with knowledge on how to break some of the wards, in the wrong hands.

       

“There’s really nothing we can do at this point, Harry,” Ron whispered loudly during Divination, their last class for the day, “Let the Ministry handle it. I’m sure we’re still safe here. Dumbledore is still in the castle, isn’t he?”

Harry gave a weak smile and nodded, “yeah you’re right Ron,” he turned to his bowl of stones, and frowned, “no wonder mine isn’t working! I haven’t got rose quarts,” he stood up and went into the little room at the back where a lot of the Divination supplies were kept. He searched the shelves muttering, “quarts, quarts where are the quarts…”

He heard muffled sounds from the small room next door. Professor Trelawney’s office, no doubt. There were two voices; the professor and was that… Terry Boot? That’s strange, he doesn’t do Divination…

Harry couldn’t really hear but he heard snatches of things such as “seeing”, “silver liquid”, “hearts”, and “Pansy Parkinson”.

Pansy Parkinson? Why were they talking about her?

Time passed and he still had not found what he was looking for.

He started and turned around when he heard someone enter, “Class finished ages ago, Harry,” said Ron.

The two walked out of the classroom and Terry and Hermione were waiting at the bottom of the ladder. They all started walking to their respective House common rooms.

“Yes I did read it,” Terry was saying, “the Minister for Goblin Affairs breached the security for the plans.”

Ron frowned and gave Terry a strange look, “Did he? How do you know? That wasn’t in the paper.”

Terry grinned, “Trust me, I know these things.” Hermione and Ron exchanged glances and walked on ahead.

Harry turned to Terry, green orbs fixed with purple-blue and their pace slowed, “Why were you talking to Professor Trelawney about Pansy Parkinson?”

Terry looked startled. “You heard?” he turned away and gave a small laugh, “trust you to pick up something like that.”

Harry felt himself grow angry, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Terry didn’t look him in the eye and he said softly, “it doesn’t matter Harry. See you at the Ball, all right?” He turned to go down a different corridor, but Harry grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face him. Their faces were inches apart.

“You know,” Harry took a deep breath and looked Terry straight in the eyes. He noticed that they sparkled in the light, and his short and dark strands of hair came down to lick his forehead and his soft cheeks, “Hermione is worried about you and she says she tries to talk to you sometimes. If… If you like, you can always talk to me if something is bothering you or…” He stopped. Terry looked at the hand still on his shoulder and… did he just blush?

Terry nodded, smiled a little, then took Harry’s hand off his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze, before dropping it, turning and walking briskly down the corridor. Harry sighed. This is going to be a long night.

       

Harry was not a fan of Hogwarts social events.

A few hours into Halloween Ball and people started putting on their cloaks and shawls to go outside and gaze at the stars.

Harry stood by himself and noticed that the sky was particularly bright that night. He shivered and turned around, hoping to spot Ron somewhere, when he took sight of Terry Boot talking to Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was smirking while Terry was scowling. Harry frowned.

Suddenly Terry turned on his heal and headed for Harry. When he stopped in front of him, he broke out in a triumphant smile.

“What’s with you?” asked Harry who was slightly annoyed.

Terry shook his head and laughed. “Nothing really. Just made a very important discovery.”

Harry looked at him expectantly. “Which is?”

Terry shook his head again and his grin faded. “Don’t worry Harry. Just…” He hesitated. “Just be careful. You’ll find out something soon you may not want to know.” Terry wouldn’t look him in the eye.

Before Harry could protest, there was a large sound like a crack and the sky flashed white. Harry heard several gasped from the other students.

“What the- ?” But Harry stopped mid-sentence and gasped.

In the sky, ethereal blue and white, hovering like smoke, was an image. Harry squinted. He could just make out the forms of two naked and female people. The image was slowly coming into focus, and when it finally sharpened, Harry saw himself peering at the image of a naked Pansy Parkinson and Ginny Weasley entwined into one another.

Harry did not know whether to be horrified or whether to laugh. He looked over at Terry.

Terry did not look the least bit surprised. He almost looked… disappointed?

“What is it?” Harry asked breathlessly.

“Dream,” grunted Terry.

Harry continued to watch Terry stare at the sky; the light made his eyes and his cheeks glow and Harry could see his breath, white against the chill of the air. In the background, Harry heard Pansy Parkinson squealing, Ron cursing and Draco Malfoy laughing heartily.

-FIN-

Return to Archive