Control

"Potter," Harry rolled around in his wet sheets. "Potter, damn it," someone shook him by the

shoulders. "Wake up!" was whispered angrily in his ear. With a panicked gasp for air, Harry startled awake and the soaking wet blanket fell off of him.

His eyes were wide as he tried to order his

thoughts. Where was he, what had happened? Why was he so wet with sweat? His heart was racing wildly. He was afraid it was going to jump out of his chest.

Irregularly and quickly he tried to fill his

lungs with air. He couldn't get any air. Why wasn't he getting any air.

Panicked, he looked around the

dark room until he caught sight of a pair of red eyes.

"Riddle?" his voice sounded raspy and his throat

hurt as if he had cried himself sore. "Of course," came the lofty voice from his roommate, "calm

down! You were screaming around in your sleep. It's a wonder the others didn't wake up."

He had been screaming in his sleep? That at least explained his sore throat. So a nightmare was to

blame, for this bad feeling. But what had he dreamed about? And why didn't that knowledge help calm him down?

He felt nauseous. Frantically, he cramped his hands into the sheet beneath him and

gasped mindlessly for air. His heart wouldn't calm down either.

"Potter, you have to calm down. If

you don't, the others will wake up. It was just a nightmare."

Vehemently, Harry shook his head. "Air,"

Harry pressed out softly, "no air!"

Cursing, the older Slytherin moved closer to him and a moment later, Harry felt a pair of long fingers digging into his collar. He was roughly yanked out of bed and dragged behind the taller figure.

Harry couldn't really fight back or complain. He was still far too busy frantically trying to get his heart to calm down somehow.

Air, he just couldn't breathe. And he felt sick, too.

Only marginally did he notice that Riddle had pulled him into the common room. They were heading for Riddle's favourite chair. It was the biggest and the one that was right by the fireplace.

The slender boy in front of him settled down in it and pushed Harry onto the floor in front of him.

Now he did try to struggle a little, even though his thoughts were still clouded by his panic. He wobbled weakly to free himself from Riddle's strong grip. However, the latter merely strengthened his grip.

"Stop stalling! I'm trying to help you. You're having a panic attack." The voice suddenly sounded quite gentle and understanding.

Manipulative asshole.

Harry, however, actually stopped fidgeting. It

wasn't doing any good anyway.

So he was pushed by Riddle onto the floor between the latter's open legs, into a kneeling position.

"What?", Harry choked out in confusion between his frantic breaths.
"Shh," Riddle murmured as he let his slender hand wander from Harry's collar to his hair. Slowly, but firmly, Tom guided, Harry's

head to the inside of his thigh.
Weakly, Harry tried again to free himself from Tom's grip, but he grabbed his hair painfully and Harry flinched.

"Let me help you, Harry. You just have to let me do it," that seductive voice whispered promisingly.