Muggle in a Wizard's World

Chapter 4

        But even in his sleep he couldn’t escape the nightmare he was living, his dreams flashed with his families bodies on the floor, the man that had attacked him finishing the spell and sending John into unbearable pain, of John lying in the hospital wing without a limb. He woke up with a yell, sitting up strait in bed, covered in a cold sweat. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes darted around the room, as if expecting the nightmares to come to life, haunting his real life with hallucinations.

“Are you okay?” Sherlock’s voice asked. John couldn’t see him, but he could pin the location fairly well. He had to think about that question for a little bit, was he okay?

“No, of course not.” John muttered, sinking back into the pillow. Sherlock sighed and lay back down in his bed also, eyes open, staring into the darkness.

“You’ll be fine eventually.” He said.

“I don’t I’ll live to eventually.” John decided.

“You will, you’ll live past eventually, I’ll make sure of it.” Sherlock promised. John closed his eyes, which made no difference anyway, hoping that Sherlock was right. John didn’t even know if he trusted him, but he had a feeling that Sherlock would protect him. he drifted back to sleep, nightmares still coming, but not as badly.

                When he woke, the only thing telling him it was morning was the narrow beam of light streaming through the small window on the top of the wall. Sherlock was still asleep, so John lay on the couch until he heard him start to stir. John’s back hurt a lot, the cost of lying on a hard couch all night. He heard a slight bang, and turned to see Sherlock had gotten to his feet a little bit shakily. His curly hair was messed up with bed head, which John had trouble ignoring. John slapped his inner self for that, he did not have a crush on Sherlock. Absolutely not.

“Good morning.” Sherlock yawned, shuffling over to the wardrobe and picking out an outfit for the day. He went into the bathroom, and ten minutes later he came out in a shirt and jacket, very formal for a day in a school. His hair had been brushed and all sleep had disappeared from his face, he looked up and ready to go. John was still in his clothes from before, he hadn’t thought to pack a bag from his house, and he had no change of clothes. At the moment he didn’t care, he doubted he’d stay here long anyway.

“Come on, get up, I’m hungry.” Sherlock complained. John rolled off of the couch and stood up, unsure how to get ready.

“I don’t have any other clothes.” John pointed out. Sherlock frowned slightly, looked at his wardrobe for a split second, but none of that would fit John, Sherlock was much taller and thinner.

“That makes things easier then, let’s go.” Sherlock decided. He walked out the door, and John didn’t hesitate to follow him, walking through the classroom and through the small hallway.

“We’ll stop at Hogsmeade or something later.” Sherlock promised, even though that didn’t help much. John had no bloody idea what Hogsmeade was. They reached the entrance hall, the iron shut doors that led outside standing tall and threatening, but the other door was full of life, tons of kids sitting in tables eating breakfast, talking and laughing even though a war was raging on. Sherlock went into what must have been the cafeteria, walking past the students and to a table, raised on steps above the students, that was going horizontally, unlike the four other tables. John noticed each table had a different color pattern; one was green, the other yellow, maroon, and blue.

“This is the Great Hall, where all the meals are eaten.” Sherlock said simply. He climbed the steps and circled around the table to an empty chair. Sherlock let John had the chair and stood to the side, picking a piece of toast off of the plate. There was food spread out on platters, everything from eggs to oatmeal, all of the breakfast food you could ever want. There was an empty plate in front of him, but it didn’t stay empty for long, John loaded it with as much food as it could hold, he hadn’t had dinner, and he hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he smelled the food. Even though Sherlock had claimed he had been starving, he only nibbled on a piece of toast, and by the time John was finished, Sherlock hadn’t eaten half of it. He seemed troubled, and John had no idea why. He looked around what Sherlock had called the Great Hall, and wasn’t surprised to see other eyes looking at him.