Hi. This isn't my best piece of work - if you can even call it that - but I felt really bad about not updating, so I whipped this up just today. Thanks for reading and sticking with this story! I'll try to find my muse. Though I can't guarantee anything. Reviews always help though! Suggestions, comments, critiques, etc. ;)

"I brought you some hot water."

"Thanks," I wheezed, reaching for the mug.

As he started to lean over, the familiar tingling sensation in my nose reappeared.

And I sneezed in his face.

"Fuck," I coughed. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to –"

Sam wiped his face, and made a funny grimace. "It's all right. Are you feeling any better?"

I sniffled. "A little."

"Right. You definitely look a lot better," Sam said, placing the mug on my nightstand.

"Your lies don't work on me."

He smirked. "Really. How do you know I'm lying?"

"I'm not entirely stupid," I said between coughs.

"Seriously though, you're really feeling better?"

I nodded. "Yeah. But I'm guessing the NyQuil I just took has something to do with it."

"It's not nighttime."

"Yes, I know. I just want to sleep."

"All right, well, have a good night's rest – afternoon, I meant," Sam responded, pulling my blanket up.

Wow. I could get used to this.



"Goodnight, Sam."

"You're going to go to jail for this!" I warned, my voice shaking, as I backed away from a dirty knife-wielding man.

He let out a sinister laugh. "That's only if they find me. Or you, for that matter."

I shivered – due to the cold, or his words, I don't know.

He inched towards me, taking his lovely time, as if he knew I couldn't escape.

Maybe he knows something I don't, I thought, and turned around quickly…only to find myself centimeters away from a wall. Fuck.

The knife glinted under the dim flickering streetlight.

In a matter of seconds, he had advanced, and I felt a distinct sharp pain in my abdomen. Too shocked to do much about anything, I stared at him with wide eyes. Is this how it works? Don't they usually try to take your wallet and purse first? And then when you start fighting back, that's when they hurt you? Well, I suppose there aren't rules for this type of activity.

"Hmm," he drawled, "My pretty…You're in for some fun tonight."

All of a sudden, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a stick. I didn't even know what I was doing, but my hand and vocal cords worked on their own.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" my voice yelled.

I watched in delight as the knife flew out of his hands. He looked at me, surprised, then that sinister smile was back.

"Looking for some fun, hm?"


"I think yes," he replied, running a quick hand through his greasy brown hair.

I knew things were going to be bad when he suddenly turned into Voldemort.

Call me a wimp, but I stuttered, "I—I'm n—not Harry Potter."

"You do not fool me," Voldemort replied menacingly, "I have waited for this day for a long time."

"No! I'm not—"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he screamed, pointing with his wand.

I closed my eyes and screamed as if I were on a roller coaster, waiting for everything to end.

"Vienna! Wake up! It's only a dream."

Huh. Since when did Voldemort have such a lovely voice?

And I'm not dead? But he Avada Kedavra'd me.

Unless I really am Harry Potter…I'm Harry Potter!

But then why is it only a dream? Is it only a dream?

Hm. My eyes are closed, I think. I struggled to open them. My eyelids had apparently decided to glue themselves together, sometime between getting stabbed and getting killed.


Damn. I'm not Harry Potter.

I grunted.

"Are you all right? I heard –"

I grunted again. Very ladylike, I know. But it's just so disappointing to wake up from a dream…especially one in which you had a wand. Even if you were about to die.

"Okay then. Are you feeling better? Do you want some water?"

I nodded.


Another nod.

"I'll be right back."

I stared at Sam's back as he left my room, and sighed.

After I downed the entire glass, I turned to him. "Where are you going?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Just –"

"Nevermind. It's all right. Meeting someone for a drug deal?"

Sam laughed. "Exactly. Don't tell anyone though. I'd lose my job."

"Speaking of jobs –"

"Don't worry. I called in for you. Took a few days off."

"A few?"

"Well, yes. I don't imagine you're going to get well in a day. Plus, you injured yourself on the job. They can't complain."

I looked straight at my feet. Or where they were sticking out, anyway.

Sam continued, "You know, it is a bit odd that no one knew you had cut yourself. But I find it even stranger that no one had seen you in the kitchen 'helping out.'"

I shrugged.

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

I remained silent.

"Do you want to talk to Ellie?" he tried again.


He sighed, running a hand through his hair – much like how homeless-Voldemort did. Except Sam's hair was clean and looked quite beautiful.

"Okay, well, I have to go right now, but I'll be back," he said, giving me a 'this-conversation-is-not-over' look. "And don't get out of bed unless you absolutely have to. There's no one around right now."

"Yes dad," I responded, pushing down the covers.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to the bathroom."

He nodded.

Sam the bathroom Nazi. Hm.

He was still there by the time I returned.

"Don't you have to be somewhere?"

Shrugging, he helped me into bed. And he tucked me in.

God, I wish I was sick all the time.

"There. There's some more NyQuil on the nightstand if you want, and I got you some more water. And books and magazines. I couldn't find your cell phone, so you just have to deal with the home phone – call me – or Ellie – if you need anything, okay?"

I grinned up at him – at least, that's what I meant to do. It probably came out as a grimace of sorts. "Thanks."

"No problem. And no entertaining men while I'm away," he added sternly, patting at my covers.

"And when you're here?" I asked coyly.

Oh my goodness. Did I really just ask that? The drugs are affecting my mind!

"Well, we'll deal with it when the time comes," he grinned, "All right, I'm going now. I'll be back in a few hours."

I said goodbye, and heard him leave the apartment.

What to do now, hm…what to do.

Should probably listen to Sam and not move around anywhere. My various wounds hurt like hell – especially when I went to the bathroom.

Humming to myself, I looked around my room. There really is nothing to do.

"Oh Sam! Say it again," I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I love you, Vienna, I always have," he replied, smiling lightly as he lifted me up off the ground.

As soon as he put me down, I turned to him, put my hands on my hips – still smiling – and asked, "Well, what took you so long to figure that one out?"

He grinned. "Sometimes guys are just slower when it comes to these things."

I scoffed. "Did you really need to go through all those girls before you finally realized how you felt?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yes."

I swatted him on the arm.

Sam grabbed my arm, and pulled me in close. I could feel his heart beating underneath his pinstriped dress shirt.

"They couldn't compare," he whispered, tilting my head up with a finger.

I closed my eyes in anticipation, waiting excitedly for what would most certainly come next. –


What the fuck is that.

I groped around, eyes still closed. My fingers closed on the phone, and I sighed. Goddamnit. I was having a good dream. A great dream – fuck it, a fan-fucking-tabulous dream.

"Hello," I barked into the receiver.

"Vi? I'm just calling to check in on you."

"Ellie. I'm fine."

"You sure don't sound fine. You sound like my emphysematic grandmother…right before she died."

"Thanks, Ellie. Seriously."

She giggled. "Do you want me to bring anything over?"

I shook my head. Er. "No, I'm good."

"All right then, I guess I'll let you go back to sleep," she laughed. "I'll stop by later."

After I hung up, it was extremely hard for me to fall back asleep. Although my dream was strictly PG-13 at the most, it didn't fail to make me red in the face. I can't believe I dreamed that. God. I'm almost a bit shameless. I lifted my hands to my face. Yeah, I'm hot. From the dream, or because I'm sick, I'm not entirely sure.

I wish that dream would come true.

Right now.

Okay, so maybe I won't be so picky. Just anytime in the future. Near future, preferably.

I wonder if he's still seeing Maria. Or whatever her name is. I forget.

Hm… oh fuck. My stomach hurts. A lot. It feels like the worst menstrual cramp…times ten. Though obviously, it's not the same kind of pain. I'm not really good at describing things, to be quite honest, so I won't try.

I think I should change the bandage? But I don't feel like moving as of yet. Yeah…no.

I reached over to the nightstand, popped out a rather large NyQuil pill, and grabbed the glass of water. Okay, you can do this Vienna, 1-2-3 swallow!

I follow my own instructions and swallow, only to find that the pill is still in my mouth, while the water is not.


It takes me a good five minutes to swallow the pill – by which time the liquid innards have already leaked out through the seams, much to my distaste.

I then laid back, waiting for the drug to take effect.