Title: Wishes are for Dreamers (WAD)
Disclaimer: All rights are JK. Rowling except for the lyrics and the situation ^_^.
Warning: This is slash, don't read if you don't like it!
Note: I'd read the lyrics, since they are a part of the story. You won't get the first part unless you read the darn thing.
Dedication: Malakai, for inspiring this fanfic and being such an awesome person to talk to over AIM for all my lovely fanfics!
1: Wish Granted (July 21, 2003 to July 22, 2003)
"Remember Without Memory" by Malakai & Yih.
We bear scars of things long past
Defeated by anguish of memories
We recall what we want long destroyed
It makes no difference now
It haunts; it digs deep
It won't let go
It feeds on reminiscence
It devours pained remembrance
Pain on pain
Agony is life's lesson
Will you be crushed?
Somehow, rise above it?
Hold them inside
Contain them within
Memories without remembering
Keep the key hidden
No good comes for dwelling
Hold them inside
Contain them within
Memories without remembering
Keep the key hidden
Easier said than done. He hummed the haunting melody. The tune wasn't easy to follow, and he still hadn't quite figured out the notes yet. He was working on it though. This was the song that got to him on the latest album from Severus Snape. This was the song that made his blood sing. He'd figure the bloody sheet music out even if it took him 'til next Wednesday.
He rested his forehead down on his desk as he felt a hard dizziness slam into his temples. Damn medication. Ruin his concentration, it did. Closing his eyes, he let himself rest his mind just a bit. Besides, it'd give him time to simply listen to the sweet, sweet song. His finger went automatically to the play button and pressed it down.
His earphones were flooded with the silky smoothness of Severus' sexy voice singing his favorite track. It was currently on continuous repeat. How soothing. How bloody stimulating. He'd heard that Severus Snape was bisexual. If so, that'd make his day. Not that he'd ever meet the man. No chance in ruddy hell of that happening. Listening to his voice was enough, it took the edge off his pain--- off his remembering.
Such a damn tragedy he couldn't accept the scholarship he'd gotten from the Guildhall School of Music. Such a blasted misfortune that he was currently too bloody sick to be away from the hospital for more than a few days at a time. The darn doctors were always pumping too much shit into his system that he hardly got any time conscious, much less any time to actually think about composing. If he ever got that bone marrow transplant, he'd cry with relief.
His brilliant emerald eyes flickered open. Dizzy feeling gone. Good. He lifted his head and picked up his pencil again. Pressing on the back button to start the song over, he listened to the music pelting out of the Sony Discman in waves that made his ears tingle with pleasure. A pleasure that slid down his body when he heard Severus' smoky voice rasp out the beginning lyrics.
The tingling sensation settled into his groin like it did sometimes when he was feeling on the better side of the bed. It wasn't an unwelcome sensation; it at least reminded him that he was still able to feel some pleasant things in life. Too bad he'd never get rid of his virginity to really experience the joy of a sex marathon. Between week long or longer hospital visits and being quarantined to his room when he was at home, he really didn't get the chance to meet other queers like himself.
He dropped the pencil onto the desk and let it roll off. He wasn't going to get anymore added notes onto the partially sheet music he'd already jotted down when he had the beginnings of a full blown erection. Resigning himself to this fact of life, he reached into his boxers and started stroking himself lightly. Nice. Too bad it wasn't someone else's hand. He definitely wouldn't mind having Severus Snape jerking him off. But his hand was better than nothing.
"Harry!" he heard his mother's voice calling out to him. Damn it. "Harry Potter! Open the door right now! You know what we've told you! Don't lock your door! What will we do if you pass out in there?"
His mother was paranoid. He wasn't going to pass out, but he understood her concern. He sighed and tried to will his hard on down. Not that it was going to do much good, look like he'd have to deal with blue balls. It wasn't like he didn't have a good reason to keep his door lock. He didn't particularly want his parents to walk in on him while he was wanking. What child would?
"Harry Potter! Open this door immediately!" his mother cried out, her voice more anxious than angry. Typical, his parents were both like this now. They'd been like this for the past 5 years. But he'd live with it hadn't he? Too bad the sucker had to come out of remission.
"Coming mum," he grumbled, standing up and grimacing at the ache in his nether regions. "I'm coming, all right?" First, he had to get pants. That'd held hide his erection. He nearly fell over trying to get into his pants in record time and open the door fast enough to stop his mother from bulldozing it open.
His mother was in tears. Shit. He felt awful whenever his mother looked like this, and she was looking like this more and more often. If his father wasn't such a rock through it all, he'd crack and he couldn't crack--- not when he needed to be strong for his mother if not for himself. "Mum," he whispered softly, holding his arms out to her, "don't cry. You know I hate it when you cry."
"I'm sorry," his mother mumbled as she wrapped her beautiful son in her arms tightly like she never wanted to let go. "It just, there was another phone call from Dr. Pomfrey."
Not good news then. He stroked his mother's back reassuringly. "It's all right. Why don't you tell me what she said then? I might as well know. It's not like I'm a child anymore. I haven't really been a child since this whole episode began 5 years ago." He pressed a light kiss on her forehead. "Mum, tell me. Don't make me have to call Poppy now."
It use to distress him whenever he heard that Poppy had called, but he knew that his doctor was doing the best for him that she could--- that she knew how to do. He adored Poppy, she was his favorite person in the entire world other than his parents and maybe Severus Snape. That is if he ever met the man. He didn't really get a chance to hang out with other children, and Poppy was a fun and energetic doctor. If he didn't have her for his doctor, he didn't know what he'd do.
"You know how you told Dr. Pomfrey," his mum began, always calling Poppy by her proper name because she didn't want to be too familiar since it hurt to realize how long they'd been living this nightmare, "to pass you over if your donor proved a better match for someone else? Well, it was for a girl called Hermione Granger. I know that the match wasn't that good, but it was still something! We've been waiting a year for this, Harry, and…"
"Hush, mum," Harry murmured consolingly. "Listen to me, you know Poppy's right. If I took that donor, it'd do be more harm than good. You always tell me to believe in miracles, well maybe a miracle's coming soon now that I've done this good deed for someone else. Even though the donor theoretically could have worked, Poppy's a brilliant doctor and you know what she says is right. There were more that didn't match than matched. There was a 70% chance my body would reject it."
"I know," his mother sobbed. "I know, but it was still something."
Harry brushed more kisses on both of his mother's cheeks. "Why don't you tell me about what Poppy said about the donor matching… Her… that girl's bone marrow?" he questioned lightly, easily changing subjects. It wouldn't do to dwell on long gone possibilities. "What are her chances? I'd like to meet her before the big day," he commented. "Wish her good luck and all."
"85% chance, Poppy said," his mother answered him shakily. "She's got a 85% of her body accepting the bone marrow. It's as perfect of a match as could be had. I don't know if you'll be able to see her or not beforehand. I think they're prepping her right now and stuff. She'll probably be under sedation soon. They don't want to waste any time."
Harry nodded understandingly and continued to rub his mother's back. It didn't sound right to his ears to hear his mother's voice being bitter. That wasn't like his mother, to be bitter about anything, but he supposed it was only the selfish aspect of her maternal instincts on overload. What parents wanted to see their child die before them? "It's good that they aren't wasting any time."
His mother shrugged, but didn't do much more than rest her head on her son's shoulder. She didn't want to think about anything anymore, she only wanted to concentrate on her beloved son who she was holding right now in her arms. It wasn't fair that her poor Harry had to go through this, wasn't it enough that he'd already gone through it once and it'd nearly killed her precious baby?
Why did the cancer have to come out of remission? Why? It'd been a two year struggle of chemotherapy and radiation to get his cancer into remission, and less than two years later it had unleashed itself to ravage Harry's body again. The first bout of leukemia had been devastating enough, pushing Harry back academically so that there was no way he could catch up to his class level.
He'd been pushed back a grade level, and all the medication had ruined his health. He was frail now, forever fragile. Her poor darling, her sweet baby. It was such a blessing that while he was weak now; it did nothing to interfere with his abilities to play the piano. As he'd gotten weaker, that'd been his lifeline--- his music. His way to reach out; his method to communicate with the rest of the world. It was his vent mechanism.
The phone rang, and they sprang apart from each other. A phone call meant two things really. One, more bad news. Two, Harry needed to go to the hospital. There was a possibility that it was good news, that a new donor had been found but that was unlikely. She took a huge breath, ready to steel herself to answer the phone when Harry patted her on the back and told her, "I'll get it, mum. Why don't you go take a rest? You look a tad tired."
All of them were exhausted. He felt weary everyday, but it hurt him to see his mother running herself ragged. His mother needed to learn to take better care of herself, it was like she was trying to wear herself out. He certainly didn't want that. Darn phone had to interrupt a bonding moment. It'd been good for his mother, he noted, she'd stop shuddering as much. The phone kept ringing, and he said he'd get it. Life was all about interruptions.
"Hello?" he answered.
"Good afternoon, may I please speak to a Mr. Harry Potter?" asked the commanding feminine voice over the line.
"This is he."
"Very good, will you hold on a moment while I transfer you to another line?" she queried politely. "Mr. Dumbledore wanted to give you the news himself."
What news? And where did that name ring a bell? Why did it? "Sure," he muttered. It wasn't like he had much choice as he heard the lady switch him over to another line. Great, he hated waiting.
"Harry, my boy!" exclaimed a cheerful older man. Dumbledore. "You will not believe it, but we've managed to fulfill your wish!"
"It was quite difficult," he rambled on, "but we managed to do it! You will be spending some arranged time with Severus Snape! How is that for a birthday wish? I'm sure this has to be a very exciting 18th birthday for you, young man! So how are you today, Harry?"
His mouth dropped open. Was this old coot crazy? He was going to meet Severus Snape? His idol! The musical prodigy? The man he aspired to be like? Shit. "You're joking," he stated flatly. "You're seriously bloody joking."
"Nope," Dumbledore responded cheerfully, quite use to these older children that never believed that the Make a Wish Foundation was fulfilling their request. "I'm very serious. You will be meeting Severus Snape at the end of this week. There are a few details that still must be discussed with your parents, though. But I wanted to give you the news myself because I've read a lot about your special case. And… you are a very brave young man, Harry. I hope this wish is everything that you dream it would be."
Harry dropped the phone. The man couldn't be serious. He was really meeting Severus Snape… and he was rather calm about the whole matter. He figure he'd be hyperventilating, but he supposed that all the training he'd done to keep himself collected for his mother was paying off. That didn't mean he could speak though. He thought he'd just lost his voice. Bloody hell. This was really happening.
It had to be. He'd heard of the Make a Wish Foundation. His parents must have made the wish for him, knowing how much he worshipped Severus Snape. But he didn't really think they liked the darn singer. Yet, they had to know how much it meant to him. This was the best birthday present he could have ever got gotten. His bottom lip trembled. Lord, he loved his parents.
He saw that his mother was grinning at him, having picked up the phone and started talking to Dumbledore while Harry had been staring around in a complete daze. "It's time we had some good news," she remarked. "How's that for an 18th birthday present?"
"Fan-bloody-tastic, mum!" he cried out, launching himself at her. "You're unbelievable! How did you arrange that? Severus is notoriously anti-social and that whole shebang. I can't believe this! You're awesome mum!"
"I pulled a few strings," his mother replied warmly. "And Dumbledore's an old family friend of ours. He was more than willing to help us."
Harry hugged his mother hard. "I love you, mum. I love you so much."
"I love you too, Harry."
"No fucking way!" Severus roared at his agent and publicist and best friend, Lucius Malfoy. "There's no bloody way I'm playing baby-sitter to a damn fan. You know I'm not into this for the fame or the money or the fans, just the music! And who cares about the publicity?"
"Well," Lucius remarked smoothly, "it would do wonders for your reputation. Even if you don't want the fans, you have them. It's time that you did something for them. Is it so bad to be worshipped, Sev? I recall you use to make time for your fans before, you said they were your backbone."
"That was before life wasn't such a bloody pain in the arse," Severus retorted sharply. "So I grew up and grew up jaded. That's what being a musical prodigy will do to you. I hate the limelight, and if it didn't give me a chance to create and compose whatever music I wanted to--- I'd get out of it. But it does, so I deal with it. But I don't have to deal with this! This is not part of my contract!"
"We can make it a part of it."
"Now, Severus," Lucius began when Severus had finished
glaring dead glowers at him, "you need to calm down before you blow a fuse,
which is hardly like you. You're known,
quite renown for being cool like a cucumber--- where has that all gone?"
"Down the gutter when you walked in," Severus spat.
Lucius brought his hand up to his chest. "That hurt, Severus. That really hurt. I thought you thought better of me, you did sleep with me after all. Are you saying you like my gutter-ness?"
"That's not a word, you idiot," Severus sneered.
Lifting an elegant eyebrow up, Lucius leered at his former lover. "Well, well--- no denials, eh? Perhaps, another go sometime? You know you've been aching for me to take you on a ride. Maybe after we see this wish through. You can hardly say no, I've already telephoned the Foundation and said that it would be our pleasure to fulfill the wish. You wouldn't want to break a young boy's heart would you? You aren't the heartless bastard you try to make yourself out to be, Severus, and you know it."
"No," Severus snapped, "you're the bloody bastard."
Lucius chuckled lightly. "Too bad my blood is as blue-blooded as they come."
"And your heart is as black as they come."
"Losing your sharp sarcasm? What a pity," Lucius commented offhandedly. "I do enjoy the challenge of your witty banter, but today you're off your usual pedestal. You should get some rest, Severus, my friend. You've got a full schedule booked for you tomorrow, and you will be picking the boy up at the airport when he flies in the day after tomorrow even if I have to escort you there myself!"
With that, Lucius abandoned him to his piano and his sheet music. Blissful solitude finally. Destroyed, unfortunately, by Lucius' urgent news. He growled and ran his fingers over the precious keys. How was it that Malfoy always got the upper hand on him? Always had, he thought with bitter remembrance. It was such a goddamn misfortune that Lucius was only one that could get the terms he wanted for his albums.
Complete and utter freedom to write what he wanted. Sing what he wanted to sing.
Author's Note: I know, I know, you people are probably throwing fits. SHE STARTED ANOTHER FANFIC!!! [snickers] Blame it on Malakai, she liked my plot bunny and we were talking about music and suddenly… bam… I wrote it. I like this chapter. I like this story, so guess what? I'm going to write it. Please review, I've never seen anything like this and what do the lyrics mean? ^_~. I like to make you think. And I think I did all my characterizations well, what do you think?