The Devil Runs Wild

*********~Confusion~

Harry Potter was not turned on by any dreams sent by Voldemort. Nope. Absolutely not.

In fact, Harry Potter was so certain of this fact that he was now in the process of casting a spell that would make him incapable of arousal of any kind.

“Why are you doing this again, mate?” Ron Weasley asked Harry with a look that clearly communicated that he thought his best friend to be off his rocker.

Harry, who was concentrating on the book in his hand which held the spell he was looking for, paused briefly in his mumbling to answer his friend.

“Because I do not need to prove that I’m not aroused by these dreams because I know, for certain, that I absolutely am not,” Harry said simply and returned to his attempt to pronounce the Latin correctly.

“But,” Ron interrupted Harry again, “If you don’t..er..enjoy these dreams as you say then why do you need that spell?”

Harry, sighing, put the book down on the table to look up at his friend with an annoyed expression which Ron recoiled from.

“Because Hermione says that I enjoy them when I clearly do not and I know that casting this spell will make absolutely no difference in my response to the dreams,” Harry said promptly and returned to his book.

Ron just stared at his friend, clearly confused.

Yes, Harry Potter had gone a little mad.

**********
Draco was now in the process of making a wolfsbane potion. For some reason, Snape had requested that he do so but did not divulge to him the reason why. Draco assumed Snape must have been ordered to by the Dark Lord.

Thinking that it had to do something with Fenrir, Draco shuddered. He seriously considered slipping with the correct amount of any of the various ingredients that would ensure certain death, just so that he could hear of Fenrir’s death. Draco would insist, if questioned, that he simply despised the creature of “spoiled” blood, but, in fact, Draco was terrified of the werewolf. His first meeting with the werewolf was most unpleasant. Fenrir had looked upon him as if he were a tasty morsel, making comments that hinted towards a sexual nature. Of course, Draco had not been intimidated at first, but once he had watched Fenrir at work, his fear grew immeasurably. Draco could still hear the screams of the muggle boy who had been eaten alive by Fenrir.

Shuddering again, Draco got back to work on the potion.

**********

“Here, Harry, I brought you some warm milk,” Hermione said, handing Harry a glass.

Harry, who had wrapped himself up so tightly in his blankets as if creating himself a shield to head into battle with, shifted and clawed his way out to free an arm to take the glass from Hermione.

“It might help you sleep, mate,” Ron said from the doorway. “We’ve put some of Fred and George’s ‘Pleasant Sleep’ potion in it.”

“Although, it’s effects are not always consistent….” Hermione started.

“It’s worth a try!” Ron said, a bit annoyed with Hermione for having dashing his friend’s hopes, as well as his own. He certainly didn’t enjoy watching his mate go completely bonkers from being sent nightmares from an insane, evil wizard.

Hermione bit her lip in worry as Harry bundled himself up in his blankets again as tightly as he could.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she said.

Harry smiled and nodded his head.

“Night, Harry,” Ron said as Hermione joined him at the door.

Harry ducked his head down into the covers and Hermione and Ron turned, extinguishing the lights as they left.

*********

“I have the boy making the potion for you, as I do not have the time,” Snape said to Lupin, who sat across the table from him in the Weasley’s small kitchen.

“Is he qualified for that?” Mr. Weasley squicked from the other end of the table.

“I assure you that he is,” Snape said.

“But, surely, a boy of 17 could not make the potion by himself?” Mrs. Weasley asked, worriedly.

Snape huffed and was about to answer a bit rudely when Lupin interrupted.

“I trust Severus, Molly. I’m sure that Draco is capable of making the wolfsbane potion for me,” Lupin said, lifting his cup to Severus who nodded in return.

“Well..well. If you think so, Remus,” Molly said and seemed to settle down.

“I do,” Lupin replied.

“Yes, well then. Onto business then!” Mr. Weasley said.

The Order members began discussing matters involving the war, with Dumbledore’s portrait also adding in bits and pieces. Molly Weasley had surprisingly been the owner of one of Dumbledore’s portraits and Snape could not help but feel a little unnerved under the piercing eyes of that particular painting. Severus reminded himself that it was just a painting, but it still was unsettling to see.

********~Dreaming~

A dark room.

Harry was in a dark room.

It was cold and the floor was hard. He couldn’t see and for some reason his heart was beating at a rapid pace. The room was dark and quiet and a bit unsettling, but Harry saw no reason for a full-out panic-attack, which he felt as if he was having. He couldn’t stop his heart from beating so fast or his hands from sweating. Something was wrong and he couldn’t figure out what.

Then he heard something.

A slithering noise. It must be a snake, Harry thought, as his heart beat faster. Was it Voldemort’s snake coming to kill him? Was it something else entirely? What was it?

And then the sound stopped. Harry breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. There wasn’t anything there anymore. The snake must have gone away. He listened and heard nothing. Had he imagined the noise?

Then a slight slither broke the silence.

Harry wished he could see, but the room was just too dark. He scrambled with his hands on the floor to reach for something to defend himself with: a rock, or anything at all that would do. He was panting now and sweat was breaking over his forehead. He couldn’t stop this feeling. He was suffocating. He knew that sound was getting closer. Then a terrifying scream sounded out and echoed of the walls and Harry woke up.

“Aaaaaaaaah!” Harry sat up screaming in bed.

Ron and Hermione arrived as Harry was attempting to calm down.

“What’s wrong?”

“What happened?”

Harry looked at his friends, not really comprehending their questions as he was too caught up in his own thoughts. Why had he screamed? He hadn’t been attacked. In the dream, he had been in a dark room and there had been a noise that sounded like a snake….and then there was a scream. That scream had sent terror straight to his heart.

“I…I had a nightmare,” Harry panted out.

Ron and Hermione sat down and started talking but Harry wasn’t listening.

At least he had not had any sexually perverted dreams this time, Harry thought. He couldn’t help thinking that this wasn’t much better, though. He had felt the panic from the dream. His hands were sweaty and breathing normally was still something of a hardship. That scream that he had heard in his dream seemed to still be distressing him.


And then it hit him. Something about that scream sounded familiar.


Author's note: Ok, so it's taken forever to update, I know, but I've been really busy. Oh, well. Review, though, because...yeah....