Dreamland- feel free to stay

Title: Chapter 4
Author: smirkingcat
Word Count: 490
Rating: G
Prompt: slythindor100 traditional prompt 4:
Warning: mental illness (or something close to it), alternating pov,
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: story has made up magic rules - i don't think it's a warning per se, but i wanted to state it somewhere
start with part one here: @dw | @lj


Chapter 4

"We aren't drunk enough yet to live these suits down, come on let's change that."

He heard before he was dragged away through a shapeless crowed to a bar. There was no real light around, just beams of coloured light. He needed to do quite some acrobatics to finally be able to see what he was supposed to be wearing. He wished he didn't, because that effort, even in his own mind, had not paid off. He was wearing the most horrific suit he could ever imagine. And the snowmen on it actually crept him out.

Who would design such abominations?
And the colours, he liked it bright, but there was a line. That line was left way behind, so far even, that he couldn't spot it from where he was.

"And you?" The man behind the bar, if that was what it was, asked him.

Startled he tried to really take his surroundings in: was this a real memory, which he would destroy if he changed it too much. Or was it part of his imagination. Why couldn't there be any sort of hint?

Well, maybe the suits were a hint?

He would never wear such a thing!
Or would he?
It was hard to say when you could not remember what you usually did.

"He takes the same as me. Don't mind him, he quite often gets lost in his thoughts these days. Given his usual surroundings, that is not that surprising though," the person next to him ordered for him.

He couldn't make out a face, and the voice- It was not a real voice.

"So I'm having yet another hallucination," he stated, tried to breathe deeply.

It was not real. None of it.
Not his horrible suit, not the horrible Christmas tree one the other person was wearing. That was something positive.

"What are you talking about? Here drink, and lets go party."

He shook his head: "You are not real, this party is not real. These suits are most certainly not real. This is just a horrible dream."

"What are you talking about? We come here every year! Are you alright? It happened again, didn't it?"

"What? What happened again? Where are we? Who are yo-"

When he opened his eyes he was laying in his white bed, in the white room with the very white feeling to it.
He knew that would happen the moment the question shot out of his mouth. It always ended when he asked who the voices were. Somehow he was expected to know.

The thing was he just didn't. None of it made sense. It stopped making sense when the first memories changed and he couldn't name how.

He took a deep breath.
Why was this happening?
How could he make it stop?
What would happen if it never stopped, would this mean he himself would become a living corpse?
No past. No future.
And an ugly white present.