Serena Inverse: Sorry for the wait everyone, but we have finally finished chapter 2. This chapter really didn't want to be written, but I think we finally nailed it. I hope you all enjoy it!

Sweet Dreams
By Serena Inverse and Lizeth Hallington

Chapter 2

Angry and upset, Harry surged from the narrow alleyway and looked around for any sight of his quarry. He stood on a busier road, one that was more commercial than residential, but he couldn't see anything he recognized. A few people were milling about in the early morning, dozy expressions on their faces as they struggled to be more awake than they felt.

But no rabbit.

Dammit! No! He couldn't lose that rabbit now, not after coming this far. Leaning against a wall for support, Harry quickly took stock of his situation:

a) He had no idea where he was.
b) He had nothing on him save his clothes and his wand.
c) The Order didn't know he'd gone.

Harry's eyes widened fractionally as that last thought hit him with some alarm. He remembered that when he'd left, his uncle had been yelling about him running back to the Order. If that was what Uncle Vernon really thought, then the man definitely wouldn't bother to tell anyone his nephew had gone, and the Order would assume Harry was still at home. It would be at least a week before someone, probably Hermione, would notice the absence of his letters and send someone to investigate, if anyone could be spared in the middle of the war.

He clenched his fists. He really was in trouble.

And yet somehow worse than that, he thought, as sadness welled up under his anger, was that he'd lost the album. Of all the stupid, hurtful things that could happen after everything else this year, he'd gone and let it be stolen. In his head, he could almost hear Remus and Mrs. Weasley berating him for prioritizing a book over his own safety -- for running out into the unknown once again without thought -- but that collection of photos meant a lot, and losing-

He fought down the urge to hit something and started walking forward, anything rather then sitting around fuming. He could at least try and figure out where he was. There were people around and the signs were in English. Worse come to worse, he could ask someone for directions. Probably. Maybe.

Anger and determination flared once more. No matter what, he wasn't going back without his album.

Walking down the street, he glanced around constantly, looking for any landmark or signpost that could give him a hint as to where he was. Thankfully it didn't take him long to find one. As he stood at the end of a road junction, watching the traffic slowly crawl forward, he caught a sight of a major signpost. One way said "St. Pancras Church", and the other said "University College of London."

Well, that solved one problem, Harry thought to himself, re-evaluating the situation given the new information. So, London.

As places to be stranded went, this wasn't too bad. He'd been to London before with Hagrid and the Weasleys, and he could remember a bit of the layout of the big city. Not to mention he knew where the entrance to Diagon Alley was, and with the number of tourists and school groups, no one was going to question him wandering around by himself.

Still, knowing where he was didn't help with his current problem; all it did was give him a bit of orientation. He stared down the roads forking in the two different directions, wondering which way should he go. He really had no idea which path an annoying black rabbit would prefer, so in the end he discreetly pulled out his wand and spun it on the ground. Five minutes later he had crossed the junction and was walking down Euston Road towards St. Pancras Church.

Passing the old church a little while later, he couldn't help but be impressed by its structure. The front looked almost Grecian, covered as it was with many pillars supporting a distinctive triangular roof. Towering above it was a tall tower with a clock and bell, and topping it of like a cherry on a cake was a simple cross perched on the roof. Of course, it was nowhere near as grand as Hogwarts, but it seemed to have a history and personality of its own. He was still taking in the view when he suddenly felt a chill and shook himself. The cold crept into his bones and he wished he'd at least had the foresight to throw on a jacket. Mornings in London were somewhat damp, though any fog would later turn to smog as the afternoon sun burned the water droplets away, but in any case, he had more important things to do than stand around admiring old buildings.

Turning away, he walked on, amazed by the depths of the crowd as he realized he was in the very heart of the city now. Quickly, he changed course; he wouldn't be able to spot the rabbit in the thick crowds. A few blocks and a near-collision later, he rubbed his shoulders and neck uncomfortably. They were cramping up as he walked, as if he was carrying a heavy rucksack. It was no wonder his body felt heavy, given the uneasy and interrupted sleep he'd been having of late. Harry scowled. The rabbit had only added to his problems.

He dragged himself on through the streets, which were becoming even busier, even as he headed away from the city centre. He still couldn't find the rabbit and as time crept on with no luck, his calm determination turned into frustration.

As he heard Big Ben chiming the hour in the distance, he realized he'd been walking around for hours. He growled in annoyance and slammed himself down onto a nearby bench. The more time went on, the more difficult it was going to be to find his album. The fact that they were in such a large city made it even worse. There were a thousand and one places something so small could hide from him.

He held his head in his hands, what was he going to do? Should he risk using magic? Could something as simple as a Point-Me spell be detected by the Ministry?

"Hey, are you alright?" asked a voice, interrupting his thoughts. Harry looked up and saw a dark-haired man, possibly no older than 20, looking at him with concern. He had mismatched eyes, one blue and the other an odd brownish-gold... or was a trick of the light hitting the monocle perched on his nose? He was dressed casually in black pants, with a sleeveless bubble vest closed over a white shirt. One hand was occupied with a plastic bag of groceries, his arm cradling another bag full, while the other hand was poised over the doorknob of a shop Harry hadn't even noticed before. The man juggled the paper bag on his arm and frowned.

Harry stared, unsure, before finally answering with a wooden, "I'm fine."

The older teen raised in eyebrow, pausing disbelievingly at the threshold of what Harry realised was a darkened café. Turning the key in the lock, he gestured with his head.

"Come in for a bit, then. You look a little chilled."

Harry flushed, even though it was true. The clothes he had on were almost worn to pieces, being one of the few sets of Muggle clothes he owned that didn't hang off him like a circus tent.

"I'm fine," he repeated stiffly. "Thank you."

"Help me put my groceries away and I'll make you some tea," the other returned steadily.

"I don't want any bloody tea!" Harry snapped. Jerking to his feet, Harry's knees buckled as a shudder suddenly rippled through his body, making his head reel sickeningly. He threw out a hand and caught the back of the bench for support. The heaviness came back and it seemed like it was going to drag him back down onto the bench. The cold feeling he'd been ignoring seemed to spread furiously through his body, making his chest clench weakly.

Meanwhile, the stranger was still standing patiently at the door, brows creased slightly in concern, holding the shopping bags out for Harry to take. "Please."

Swallowing dryly, Harry carefully walked across the few steps between them and accepted the bags. The man pushed the door open, a chime sounding merrily at the motion, and walked into the store with a small nod.

"Come in."

Harry watched the door swing slowly shut and caught it before it could close all the way. After a few heartbeats of deliberation, he pushed the door open, hearing the chime ring again, and took a tentative step into the store, and then another. A burst of warmth flooded his system as soon as he stood fully inside the threshold, and his body suddenly felt as though an invisible weight had been removed. He was still tired, but the bone-aching weariness was no longer there.

Blinking in confusion, he turned back to study the doorway more carefully.

"Hey, over here," the man called from across the sea of wooden tables, interrupting before Harry could take more than a cursory glance. "The kitchen's this way."

"...Right."

Harry found himself moving almost mechanically. Years of working and doing chores for Aunt Petunia everyday made the familiar task reassuring in an odd way. Under the strange man's direction, Harry put things away neatly into various cupboards, while the man himself moved to the side and started to brew some tea.

Harry glanced around the café as he worked, taking stock of his surroundings. It was a bright and airy place, decorated in comfortable neutral colours. There were plants in various unobtrusive places and a large glass counter displaying a selection of home made cakes and pastries in a prominent position. There were tables and chairs spaced out to give people room to move around, and even a corner with two large comfortable sofas. The only thing out of the ordinary were the tiny lights with star shaped bulbs that were strung up across the ceiling and around some of the plants, and the strange rectangle canvases with foreign symbols attached to some of the walls.

"Like the place?"

"It's nice." Harry ventured, looking up from his task.

"It's called Sweet Dreams. I own this place." The young man smiled at him.

"Oh," Harry said simply, wondering why he looked vaguely amused as he said that name. Well whatever, as soon as he'd gotten something to drink he'd be out of here and back on the trail of his album.

Watanuki watched the boy busying about the kitchen putting things away. It was obvious from the speed and ease with which he moved at he was used to housework. As the colour steadily returned to the boy's face, the shopkeeper gave a quiet sigh of relief.

It was a good thing he'd found the boy when he did. Any longer walking around with that many spirits clinging to him and he'd be in serious trouble. Since Watanuki had moved to London to set up his shop, he'd seen a number of people with spectres clinging to them, but rarely so heavily as they did on that boy. It wasn't always spirits of the dead, necessarily. Bad habits tended to manifest on some level as well, especially once a person lost control of their behavioural quirk. At that point the habit would start taking on a life of its own, weighing on the very person that perpetrated it. Watanuki had seen plenty of that in his previous job, though his own shop now catered occasionally to troubled customers of a different variety.

The kid obviously didn't have the same level of extrasensory perception that Watanuki had. After all, he'd shown no signs of seeing of the multitude of black smoky spectres clinging to him as he walked along the street to collapse, finally, on a bench. But then the real question was, why had so many spirits been attracted to him in the first place? If he couldn't see spirits then that left Watanuki with two alternatives: he'd either been near something supernatural recently and was still giving off energy from it, or he was suffering from something emotionally and all that negativity had drawn the spirits in. Looking at the boy's tense posture and the remembering the aggravation he'd shown earlier when Watanuki asked him to step inside, it was easy enough to guess which it was. Fortunately the kekkai, the strong spiritual barrier set up around the store, had easily dispelled the spirits before they could do too much more damage, but...

Watanuki sighed as he gathered two cups from the cupboard. If the kid was left like this, it was just going to happen again and again as soon as he left the shop.

"Tea's ready," he said as he threw the used tealeaves into the bin. "What would you like with it?"

"With it?"

"Yes," Watanuki said, walking over and tapping the glass counter displaying the cakes and treats he'd baked early that morning. "Anything's fine. My treat, for helping me."

The boy looked sceptical, but the longing in his eyes as he stared at the counter was obvious. Watanuki smiled.

"How about some apple pie?"

"Sounds nice," Harry admitted.

Cutting a slice of pie, Watanuki directed Harry to the bin of eating utensils. They walked over to one of the empty tables a moment later and settled down. The boy was still obviously tense and distracted.

"So, may I have your name?" Watanuki asked, passing over the tea and trying to get the young man to focus on him gently.

"Huh?"

"I think it's nice to know the name of the person your dining with," Watanuki said as he sipped his tea. "But perhaps it's just me?"

"No, I'm Harry... Potter." He sounded like he was reluctant to give his full name; maybe this boy did know something of the supernatural.

"Nice to meet you Harry. I'm Kimihiro Watanuki."

"Err..."

"Just Watanuki is fine," the man conceded, fairly used to the reaction. If his last name sounded odd on English lips, his full name sounded worse. Harry sighed. Odd. There was something different about the boy's relief.

"Ah." Harry took a bite of the pie, then froze. "This is really good!"

"Please help yourself," Watanuki encouraged as he started to work on his tea. "And if I may ask, what brings you to London? You seemed aggravated when I found you."

"...Was it that obvious?" Harry mumbled, a bit embarrassed.

"Well," Watanuki huffed, his smile turning somewhat wry. "Let's just say it was hard not to notice, given my line of work."

Harry fiddled with his cup, rotating the handle from one side to another. Back and forth. Left. Right. The man waited patiently, sipping on his own drink and seemingly relaxing into his chair. Harry was reminded slightly of Remus, who also had an unobtrusive sort of presence. It was a distinctly different feeling from Dumbledore's all too knowing aura, though that omniscience had finally cracked last year...

"There's something I have to find," Harry finally admitted, raking a hand through dark hair, "but I honestly have no idea where to begin looking."

Watanuki tilted his head and hummed contemplatively, then set his drink aside and crossed his arms on the table.

"If it's really something you need, then things have a way of finding its way to you eventually."

Blinking, Harry made a noise that was half laugh, half bark.

"What?" the other asked.

"It's weird. I just remembered, a friend of mine basically told me the same thing."

"Good friend?"

"Yeah, one of the best... She's a bit loopy though," Harry said, a small grin twitching his lips.

"That's the best kind of friend to have," the older teen grinned back, suddenly looking years younger. Harry shrugged sheepishly.

Watanuki might have said more, but both of them blinked and looked up as the door chimed and another customer walked in. The shopkeeper was instantly on his feet and calling a greeting. He glanced at the clock before turning back to Harry.

"Harry Potter, was it?" he asked.

"Yeah," Harry confirmed, trying not squirm in discomfort at the sudden sharpness in the man's eyes. Did he recognize the name? Wasn't he a Muggle after all...? But Watanuki only nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and smiled.

"I hope you find what you're looking for."

"I- yeah," Harry agreed, perturbed. "Thanks."

"Take your time," Watanuki said, and went to serve his customer, leaving Harry feeling like he had missed something vitally important. It was a disconcerting feeling.

For a few minutes, Harry sat and watched the activity in the shop, puzzling over the events that brought him here. Apparently the shop opened at eight, and it seemed as if the customers flowed steadily in and out from that point on. Some of them were obviously regulars, given the familiar way they greeted the young storeowner. Pleasant laughter and conversation filled the air.

Somehow being in the warm comfortable shop tempted him to linger, but he knew he couldn't. The longer he stayed here the lower the chance of him ever finding the rabbit and his album. Despite the oddness of the man he'd been very kind to him and Harry somehow couldn't face saying goodbye. Resolving to return someday and pay the man back, Harry waited till Watanuki's back was turned and quietly slipped out of the shop. He quickly hurried down the street till he was out of view of the café and only then stopped to catch his breath. The chill was still gone and his body didn't feel at all heavy. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax and focus. It was as he was standing there, wondering which way he should go next, that he caught sight of it.

Standing on a corner, was an unnaturally large black dog. It had its head up and was sniffing the air as if it was trying to track something. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he stared at it.

It can't be. It can't be. It can't be.

Didn't anyone else notice it? Was he hallucinating? A second later the dog turned its head and was gone, bounding around the corner and out of view. Harry's legs were running before he could even think and he found himself pounding down the street after it, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

No, wait!

Involuntarily, his hopes bubbled up in his chest, his voice breaking out in a desperate shout.

Wait wait wait!

"SIRIUS!"

Back down the street, inside the safety of his warded shop, Watanuki Kimihiro stiffened as the plate in his hands cracked and fell, shattering against the floor in a crash of porcelain and drawing the concerned shouts of several patrons. Oblivious to the attention, Watanuki turned in the direction Harry had gone and stared with wide eyes at a point only he could see.

"Oh no..."

= Authors' Question and Answer Session =

Q: Was that Padfoot?!
A: Kufufufu... Wouldn't you like to know?

Q: Wait, there are ghosts at Hogwarts, so can't Harry see spirits?
A: Only if they were wizards/witches during their lifetime, or if they're magically manifested like Peeves, who's been feeding on magical energy since who-knows-when. Other spectres are on an entirely different wavelength, so to speak.

Q: Why did Harry suddenly become a spook-magnet?
A: Lots of reasons. It's a combination of his trip through dimensions and his emotional instability, plus his desire to see the dead. See Watanuki's speculations.

Q: So does Watanuki have normal customers too?
A: Yep. His shop has shortened hours for normal customers though.

Lizeth: Phew! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. We really appreciate your support! Writing this chapter was slow and really painfully difficult, but we got through it, somehow (thank goodness for Serena's help).

See you next chapter! Hopefully it’ll be more exciting and easier to write. XP