2015 || H.S

He Speaks

He began to swirl from his subconscious to reality. His eyes slowly opened into the familiar dim room, the only light coming from the warm fire lit in the fire place. He stared at it for a few moments, trying to remember why he was home. The fire got too much for his eyes. He rolled over and let it warm his damp back. Why am I wet, he asked himself.

"You're awake," a girl's voice murmured softly from behind him. He turned over to see the silhouette of a woman's figure in front of the fire. His vision was blurry, so he squinted to try to make out who it was.

"Gemma?" His voice wavered as he spoke. The woman glided over to him and he closed his stinging eyes for a second before trying to look back at her.

"No," she whispered. Everything was so dazed and it hurt his mind to try to remember anything. The girl kneeled before him with what looked like a piece of green cloth in hand. His eyes began to adjust to her face and focus on her features...

His bottom lip parted and his eyes widened a fraction. "Maia." Am I still dreaming, he asked his disorientated mind.

She nodded softly and he tried to sit up, but his arm hurt too much.

"Stay where you are, you landed pretty hard on the floor," she mumbled as her fingers traced over his stinging bicep. Her touch burnt his skin like fire, and he could feel his heart rate quicken.

"How... How are you here? Where did you come from?"

"Relax, Harry, or you'll hurt yourself." Her voice was so soothing and melodic. It had to be a dream.

He let his head fall against the pillow and he stared at the white roof. These always went the same way, and he was tried of the disappointment you feel when you wake up. Only he couldn't wake himself up.

"You feinted," she whispered over to him as her cloth trailed up his arm, shoulder and along his collar bone. "Do you remember that, Harry?"

He didn't want to remember anything. It all seemed like a fuzzy mess, like swirling a bowl of chocolate- he could smell chocolate. Then he remembered. His brain kicked into action and it all flooded back like the batter that was poured onto his head. He glanced over at her shimmering blond hair, a few stray pieces shining golden in the light of the fire. It couldn't be her. She was beautiful, but not Maia.

"Prove it," he challenged. His voice was still groggy and he remembered standing in the rain.

Her large, light blue eyes looked up at him with a hint of amusement. Why would she even be here?

"You used to love tellitubbies, even when you were eight."

"Shit," he murmured. Part of him didn't want to see her. She knew every little embarrassing thing he did as a child. But most of him was burning from the inside out.

She laughed, and he froze to listen to it. It was the same. "You didn't think I would forget, did you?"

"Apparently not," he muttered. He stared into her long eyes lashes as she gazed at the ground. As soon as she looked up he moved his eyes back to the ceiling.

"Why did you only come to visit us now?"

"I ran away from Jack."

He looked back at her and he caught a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You ran away, and came here?"

Her eyes fell to the cloth in her small hands again. "I had no where else to go, Harry. Do you mind if I stay here?"

He had never seen her vulnerable, but it gave him that feeling of power that he had never had with her. "Does anyone else know you're here?"