Written with Milly over PMs and then edited together

Josie stirred the warm porridge. It smelled really good.
"I found some strawberry jam in the cupboards." She said. "So I added it in." She tested the temperature on her lip. "Okay it is good."

They were alone in Sandy's house. It was now over a week since the jogging. Josie was determined to keep Lawrence awake today. Sandy kept making him go back to sleep. He said it was safer that way. Josie did not think it was fair. Lawrence had a story to tell. She was bored of watching him sleep. Even if he did sleep talk. The dementors were still hanging about outside.

Lawrence felt dazed. One day merged into the next, what with the sedatives Sandy kept him under. When Josie was looking after him, time and his mind were clearer. He had started to look forward to her being there.

When he wasn't able to talk but was half awake, she read the Daily Prophet to him. She did the voices which provoked a smile. Considering she was a reporter, and a rather engaging speaker when she read, Lawrence could not imagine that Josie was in the dark about who and what he was. What was in this for her? She and Sandy were risking themselves by helping him.

"Strawberry jam?" He asked, opening his brown eyes properly. "Are we celebrating?" He was propped up on lots of pillows, but was still bound to the bed. At least he could flex his neck and see a little out of the window - the tops of trees and the sky. Today it was raining, just as the weather report had predicted when Josie had read it to him last.

Together, they managed to convey porridge from bowl and spoon into him, rather than down him. It was humiliating at first to be fed by someone, but Josie was perfectly sweet about it. Once Lawrence understood the rather personal charms Sandy employed to get round the fact Lawrence couldn't move, he'd felt more happy to eat, knowing what would happen.

Josie poked the spoon into his nose by accident. Lawrence had dipped his head to swallow. They shared a moment of confusion, but her expression raised a hint of a smile from the bedridden wizard as she wiped porridge off the tip of his nose with a napkin.

"Good porridge." Lawrence complimented, and held still. Josie dabbed the napkin around his mouth. He was growing a beard.
"The jam makes all the difference." Josie replied. She put down the bowl. She tested his tea. "It is still hot. We should leave it a minute." She smiled at Lawrence. "Did you sleep well? You look a bit better. You have rosy cheeks for the first time."

"Do I?" Lawrence asked. He associated 'rosy cheeks' with children's dolls and it wrong-footed him. "Restorative powers of porridge." There was an awkward pause between them, and Lawrence realised he hadn't answered her question. "Oh - yes, I did, more or less. It's hard to tell." He frowned. With no concept of time, it was hard to know how many hours he was sleeping. He woke up intermittently, sometimes alone, sometimes watched by Sandy or Josie. Less often it would be because one of them was pressing a cold flannel to his face as he had a fever.

"I keep having dreams about this house." Lawrence stretched his neck one way and then the other. He gave the faded flowery bedroom wallpaper a glance as he died. "But there's one dream I keep having, on and off, of walking along a cliff above the sea."

"Is it a good dream?" Josie asked. She put her elbows on the bed beside him. She did not know how to read dreams. She was sure Sandy must have a book about them somewhere. There were lots of books in this house. When Lawrence was sound asleep she wandered about. Not for long. She went back every ten minutes to check he was still in bed asleep.

"I grew up by the sea. I miss it if I don't see it for too long." Josie said.
"I can imagine," Lawrence replied sleepily, content to talk as he had very little else to pass the time. She seemed content to engage with him that morning. "Where did you grow up?"
"Whitby." Josie replied. Lawrence nodded and raised his eyebrows, trying to convey interest.

"I don't think it is anywhere I have visited. But it is the same place each time." He looked past Josie towards the bedroom door and tried to picture it in his mind's eye. "There's some sort of ruin in the background. It always plays out the same. I'm walking with a young boy, though sometimes its my niece when she was little, and they're wearing a bright read coat. I look away, and then when I look back they are falling. I cannot catch them." Lawrence sighed. It was frustrating to have recurring dreams, especially one he could not resolve.

"I can't understand why I'd dream about that. I've no memories of a red coat being significant, or a child, or a cliff. Unless it's some sort of message, I-." Lawrence stopped, because he had caught sight of Josie's expression.

Josie looked like she had seen a ghost. She tried not to let herself jump to conclusions. It was just a dream. Everyone had falling dreams. Lawrence was sick. He sleep talked.
"How, how tall are they? How old do they look?" She asked Lawrence. Her throat felt tight. Her heart beat faster. "The ruins, are they big or small?"

"About six?" Lawrence offered, tentatively. He wasn't an expert in estimating child ages, especially not of dream children. "If I dream that I am my own height, then they come up just beneath my elbow. But it's a dream. It's all a bit fluid and hazy. Sometimes it's very vivid, and sometimes its like I am watching it from afar. I haven't dreamt about it for a few days, but this morning it was back." He watched her carefully. His dream had rung a bell with her, which made him curious. "The ruins are big. Not a castle, more like a house, but perhaps bigger I suppose."

Josie gasped. How did he know?!
"But it happened when I was little!" Josie exclaimed. "He got too close! He tripped. It was an accident!" She held the bedclothes. "I, no. It is just coincidence. You can not be dreaming of that. It is just coincidence."

Josie was gripping his left forearm under the bedsheets. Lawrence was sure she did not realise what she was doing. He couldn't move to bring her attention to the fact. The witch had jumped to immediate conclusions about his dream. Lawrence was thinking round it. He felt uncomfortable intruding on someone's memories, or having memories imposed on him to experience.

"Josie, it's - it's nothing, it's harmless. I'm not a seer."
"But he! I...!!" Josie was concerned. Lawrence was dreaming about her childhood memory. Why was he dreaming about her memories? This was really weird. She was lost for words.

"Why, who or what do you think I am dreaming about?" Lawrence asked. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear a sob story, but at the same time, if he was going to get out of this house he had to win over Josie's trust. If she was on his side, then she might help him escape eventually when he was better.

"His name was Robert." Josie said. She felt very sad. She did not like to think about it. "He lived next door. He ran too close to the edge. He tripped. We were up there playing. He just ran away from us. It was too late. The wind was too strong." Josie let go of Lawrence's arm. She had it gripped tight. "Oops sorry. It was a long time ago." She did not want to go into details.

"Are the dementors still here?" Lawrence asked, brushing off her apology, and feeling too awkward to say much more about Robert. It must have been an upsetting incident.

"A few. Less than last week." Josie answered. "Why, do you think they have something to do with this?"

"Maybe." Lawrence replied gently. He was trying to be kind to her. Josie looked terribly sad, recalling the incident. Lawrence felt sorry to have brought it up. He owed her an explanation to reassure her he wasn't reading her mind intentionally though.
"They are in my head - have been since I managed to start controlling them in small numbers. I hear them like a wireless in the back of my head. Mostly that they're hungry, sometimes of who they are feasting on." He couldn't hear them so well since he woke up. On the one hand he was relieved, but on the other, he could have lost months of progress. Without dementors for companions he was nothing, and very vulnerable to attack and capture.

"How do you feel when you come here?" He asked Josie.
"I do not feel happy here, if that is what you mean." Josie replied.
"And would you say Robert is one of your worst memories?" Josie nodded. "Then it's them. They're making you sad, and those thoughts are coming up to the surface." He turned his head and watched her, trying to soften his expression. "I'm sorry I intruded, Josie, that can't be an easy memory."

"Can you make them go away?" Lawrence blinked, confused at what Josie meant.
"The memories?"
"No, the dementors." Josie said. He had just told her he could make the dementors do things. She needed to record what he was saying. He would notice if she took out her quill and took notes.

"Not when I am like this." Lawrence admitted in frustration. It wasn't great that the dementors were hanging around at all. People would have noticed by now and be wondering why they'd chosen Oulton Broad for a hangout. He was surprised they had not dissipated and gone to find new food sources, given he was not providing any. Unless they had found something here in the meantime. Poor Suffolk residents.

"I've not got the strength." Lawrence explained with a sigh. "What is Sandy giving me?"

Josie got up. She walked to the other side of the bed. All the bottles of potions she had to give Lawrence were there. She picked them up one by one to show him.
"This one first in the morning. For your chest. Then this one every three hours. I think it is for the pain or the infection. This one twice a day. Mystery! Then this stuff for your wound." Josie made a face. It smelled bad. "And this stuff I am to give you if you get worked up."

Lawrence gave Josie a queer look and frowned at that blue bottle particularly. He had got a good Potions NEWT to become an auror but it had never been his strongest suit. It was a lot of potions either way. More than Lawrence imagined he'd need for solving pneumonia and a stab wound caused by dark magic. He was impatient at healing at the best of times, and this was torture.

"I think I'll just take tea." Lawrence grumbled. Josie laughed.
"Tea heals everything!" She agreed.

End