Muffled voices could be heard.  They sounded close, but blurred senses made them too difficult to decipher. . . 

Sight was clouded also. . .  Only shadowed forms could be made out through the fog.

‘All. . . stable.  Be-. . . implants taking at eighty-. .  percent.'

‘Prepare -ject. . sixty se- . . . . . . . -imula-. . .'

His breathing quickened and he struggled to sit up, but cold, solid binds held him down.  Nausea and fear filled his senses.  ‘Can't get up!  Can't- !!'

‘Sir?  Sub-  . . . . . . . . . awake.'

‘Good.  Let's put him to work.'

  -----------------------------------

"MR POTTER!"

Harry bolted upright, unsure of where he was.  "Si- Sir?" he stuttered as his eyes focused on one very annoyed Professor Snape.

"And why, Mr Potter, do you suddenly believe it is acceptable for you to fall asleep in my class?" Snape spat dangerously.

"I wh- da, ah. . . Huh?"

Snape rolled his eyes.  "There has been a wonderful discovery Potter, it is called ‘speech.'  Care to give it a try?"

Any other day Harry knew he would be angered by those words but right now his senses where in too much disarray, so he just gazed back blankly.

Whatever he did show in his face, however, must have been significant as the Professor's stern glare began to soften ever so slightly.  "What's wrong?" he demanded suddenly.

Harry just shook his head.  His memory was still struggling to catch up with him.  He remembered vaguely that he was supposed to be studying. . . something. . .  And that he was supposed to be doing said study in Snape's class. . . ?

"Just a dream," Harry mumbled.

"Dream?" questioned Snape sceptically.  "What about?"

The boy swallowed and wiped the cold sweat off his brow.  "Jus- just, a dream.  You know?  A nightmare.  N-nothing. . ." 

He wanted to believe that.  He so wanted to believe it. . .  But deep down he knew that his dreams had always meant something before. . .  Always offered some meaningful piece of information.  The difference was, those dreams never had him in them before.

"What, about?" Snape asked again.  His voice was hard, but his eyes seemed to offer a little more concern than the man would ever admit to.

Harry swallowed.  "I-I don't, r-really know," he spluttered.  "I-I was in this. . . room.  It was all hazy, like I was drugged or something. . ."

"Go on," the Professor prompted as he pulled up a seat opposite the boy.

"W-well.  The room was. . . really, white.  It was dirty. . .  Clean I mean!  B-but, filthy. . .  Like. . like, awful things happened there. . ." Harry shuddered at the feelings the room gave him.

"Awful?" pushed Snape.

"I don't know okay," Harry bit back.  "Just. . . just bad."

Snape didn't say anything.  Instead he motioned for Harry to continue.

Casting his eyes down, Harry went on.  "I was tied down. . .  And there where people there, but I don't know who they where. . ." he whispered.

"Did they do, or say anything?" asked Snape.

"They. . .  They said something. . . But.  I couldn't hear them. . ."

Harry wrapped his arms about himself and shivered.  It all seemed so familiar. . .  The room and the feelings of nausea and paralyzing fear.  Bright lights and muffled voices.  But that was ridiculous. . .  He had never been to such a place. . .  Right?

A pressure on his forehead made him jump.  His eyes shot up to see a cold hand retreating back towards its owner.

"Rest," was all the Professor said.

Harry felt himself being lifted up from his seat.  The feeling was oddly familiar and he allowed himself to be led out of the room by the older man.

As they reached the top of the stairs Snape showed no signs of letting him go.  Harry looked up at him and tried to decipher the expression on the man's face.  It seemed an odd mix between confusion, indecision and. . . . dare he believe it, concern?  Why would Snape be concerned about one of Harry's dreams??

"Where are we going?" Harry ventured.

"Hospital wing," was the short reply.

"What?  Again??  Why?  I'm not even sick!" moaned Harry.  Though he had to admit, he was feeling tired more and more the further they walked.  ‘Where'd all these stairs come from?'

"Do not, Mr Potter, argue with me.  You are going to the hospital wing.  Final."

He wanted to argue, but didn't.  He was too busy trying to keep his breath.  With only two flights of stairs travelled (a stretch he usually wouldn't even spare a thought for) he felt like he had just run a mile.

  ---------------

"Oh my.  What's happened this time?" asked a female voice.

"Nothing," responded Snape.  "I simply think it best that Potter rests, and I want him somewhere where an eye can be kept on him."

Harry felt himself being lowered down onto something soft and warm.  He was immediately thankful for the chance to take the weight off his feet and sit down on the familiar ward bed.

"Lie down.  Get some rest."  So saying the Potions Master turned to leave.

"No."

"What?"

"I don't want to," Harry argued weakly.  It was a half truth.  In all honestly he wanted nothing more than to snuggle down within the warm sheets and close his eyes.  One thing kept him awake, however.

"I-I don't want to. . ." the boy repeated.  "I'm, I'm not tired!"

"Don't, lie, to me," threatened the Professor, then regarded the boy for a moment.  "I didn't want to give you this in case you became too reliant on it.  However. . ."

Moving back towards the bed where Madam Pomfrey had left Harry in his transfigured pyjamas, Snape handed out a vial.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"You tell me," was the curt reply.

Removing the cork and sniffing the contents Harry immediately recognised the potion inside.  "Dreamless sleep," he uttered, unenthused.  Snape was right, he had been taking this stuff a lot recently.

It didn't matter though.  The thought of having another nightmare bothered him, but it was not the reason Harry did not want to go to sleep.

He handed the vial back to a surprised Potions Professor.

"Thanks Sir, but you're right.  I don't need it."

Snape considered him for a moment, then took the vial from his outstretched hand. 

"Glad you finally decided to listen for once Potter.  Why the sudden change?"

"I'm too tired to argue," spoke Harry.  Of course, he wasn't about to admit that it was partially because of his growing respect for the man. 

"Then why don't you want to sleep?" challenged Snape.

Harry stopped for a moment.  ‘Sly git's done it again!'  He blushed and looked away.

"Afraid of what might come in the dark?"

Harry's head flew back up to glare at the man before him.  "No I'm not!  I'm not some baby!"

In truth, the Professor had hit the nail on the head.  Yet admitting to it was more than Harry's pride could take.

To Harry's confusion however, his outburst did not seem to anger the Professor as much as the thought it would.  Instead the man looked at him as if trying to determine something.

"Some of the most terrifying things in life are not what we might see, but the things we can't see."

"Huh?" was Harry's uneducated response.

Snape sighed.  "You do not want to fall asleep because you are afraid of what might happen if you do.  Correct?"

Harry blushed again.  There was no point in arguing, so he tried to defend himself instead.  "Well. . . There's nothing I can do about it if something attacks me while I'm asleep. . ."

Snape inclined his head in understanding, but on what level of understanding Harry didn't know.  ‘Does the Professor get night terrors too?  Heh.  Hard to imagine Snape being afraid of anything. . .  Is he just trying to humour me?' 

"Tuff."

"What!?"

"I said ‘tuff,' Mr Potter.  As in, you can not go for the rest of your life without sleeping, so you will simply have to get over your fears or learn to live with them."

Harry gaped at the man.  ‘So much for compassion.'

"Now sleep."

"I-"  Harry began to protest, but was cut off by a motion from Snape's hand.

The Professor took up a seat by Harry's bedside and glared at him.  "I will be sitting here until you fall asleep Potter, and seeing as I have a long list of things I could be doing right now, it had better not take you long to do so."

Harry lay back against the soft pillows.  More and more, recently, he had noticed, or perhaps ‘thought' he noticed, that the cruelty and harshness in the Potion Master's words where disappearing.  He hoped so.  He hated ‘hating.'  He was tired off it!  So tired. . .

Eyes began to close and the world around him seemed to fade.  He could vaguely hear the soft breathing of someone nearby and wondered who it could belong too.  It was a comforting sound.  Something so basic yet integral to life.  It eased his worries as he drifted off into a deep slumber.  His last thoughts being of how comforting it was to have someone by you as you slept. 

   --------------------------------

The sounds of scuffling and shouting woke him.

The only light in the room came from the hexes and curses that flew through the air and the sounds of harsh breathing and breaking furniture was vivid.     

Something other than wood, metal or stone gave out a sickening ‘crack!' And an agonised cry was sounded along with it.

In a panic Harry reached out for his glasses, only to feel a heavy object slam against the bedside table in the darkness, and heard a painful "Ooof!!"

A blurred shadow at the end of his bed gained Harry's immediate attention and he scrambled to get up and as far away from the shadow as he could.

The tangled sheets caught at his legs, and the boy cried out in fear and desperation as the unfocused shadow moved towards him.  ‘I'm never going to sleep AGAIN!  AGH!'

A strong, cold hand gripped his shoulder.  Harry's breath froze within his chest and he scrunched his eyes closed, willing himself with all his might to wake up. 

Pity it wasn't a dream. . .