Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be.
A/N: Sorry for the year wait. Am hoping to get this fic back on its feet though these holidays. Cheers for reading.
When Harry next opened his eyes, it was dark. He was in another white room (though it appeared almost grey in the darkness). No. Wait! It was the same white room as before! Yes, the dark blur of a table was in the same corner but the blue squarish patch of wall (the window he figured) had turned black. Definitely night time.
He lay for a moment, listening. He could hear two sets of breaths. One had a slight snore, Johnny or David, he guessed. The other breath was quiet and somehow lighter and came from a different side of the room – Beth, probably. That meant that one was missing. He could count on one hand the people in his memory that had been kind to him and now one of those people was missing. That didn't sit well with him.
Silently he rose and crawled towards the snoring inhabitant of the White Room, as he'd decided to call it. Reaching the sleeping figure, he gently reached out a hand. His fingers met with rough skin, then trailed upwards, finding the crease of the figure's elbow. He ran his hand up the figure's arm, past the shoulder, up the neck and along the chin, and then stopped. He brushed his thumb across the figure's cheek. The skin was smooth. He went a little lower, closer to the chin...
Harry felt the scar on the figure's jaw and frowned; it was David. He'd found this distinguishing mark on David's face by accident when David had taken his turn to carry him on the way back from Chewie and Ophelia's. He'd woken for a moment at the jolt and nearly hit him in the mouth. Apologizing in a half-asleep babble, he had run his tiny hands over David's jaw to make sure he hadn't hurt him.
Where was Johnny though? Where would he be at this time of night? Harry shuffled over to the wall and, placing one hand on it, began to crawl forward, knowing that if he didn't take his hand off the wall, he'd eventually find the door. He kept going until he felt the doorframe beneath his hand.
He stood slowly and felt for the handle. He turned it and pushed gently. It gave him a loud creak for his trouble. Harry froze. He turned his head, just in time to see David's silhouette sit up.
'Where are you going?' David hissed. Harry stood there, petrified, as David stood and moved towards him. Harry's hands shook. Would David hit him? Dursley would've. Dursley always hit him if he woke him up in the middle of the night, even if it hadn't been him who woke him. Harry's memory of pointing this out to his uncle might be fading, but the beating that followed was one that he wouldn't forget in a hurry.
But almost as soon as the thought appeared in his head, he felt guilty for it; David wouldn't hit him. He hoped. He squashed the thought furiously – and unsuccessfully.
Then David knelt in front of him.
'What's wrong, kid?' He sounded tired and like he'd much rather be doing something else, like sleeping, but not angry. 'Not angry' was good. He chanced a question.
'Where's Johnny?' He whispered.
'Johnny's at work.' Harry stared at him incredulously but knew the effect was lost in the dark. He voiced his disbelief.
'But it's night time. It's dark.'
'Johnny works at night time...In the dark.'
'Oh. 'Kay.' He said, still not knowing quite why anyone would be working at night. Night was for sleep, wasn't it? Maybe night was for something different here?
'Go back to sleep, Harry.' Or not. Maybe it was just Johnny who used night time to work. That sounded better; David and Beth slept at night. It was probably just Johnny. Johnny must be funny like that, he thou
'Kay.' Harry breathed, not wanting to wake Beth. David shuffled back to his spot on the floor and Harry crawled towards his. He was silent for a moment, and then he hissed,
'David?' He heard David exhale loudly before he replied.
'Yes?' Harry paused.
'Okay, kid.' Harry lay in the darkness in silence. He'd wanted to say goodnight to David, but he'd been too...not exactly frightened, more nervous. He shook himself mentally. Since when have you been such a scaredy-cat? You used to be able to talk back to Dursley and now you're afraid to say goodnight to David. Pathetic.
I'll say goodnight tomorrow... he promised himself as he drifted off. Tomorrow…
A/N: Come on, you know you want to. Good reviews make this author happy! :P