Hey, everyone. I never thought I'd see the day when I'd write Harry Potter fanfiction. Until a month ago, I actually hated them all. But then my eight year old brother started a Harry Potter family movie thing, and as I never watch the movie without reading the book, I read them all - in a week, along with watch all the movies. Now, I'm kind of suffering from Post Potter Depression. :)
This is my first Harry Potter fanfiction, and the idea came from my annoyance at Harry, as usual. I was reading a chapter where he has one of his irritating little nightmares, and I was like, "How come Harry is the only one who ever has dreams?" And thus, this was born. It is strictly a Harry and Hermione FRIENDSHIP story, although there are hints of Ron and Hermione, and Ginny and Harry.
Also: I tried to make sound as close to the books as I could, but as I live in America, it's obviously not going to be perfect. What's really aggravating is that I used to use Australian English, which is more like British English than American English is. I really wish I still had an accent, but some dreams just don't come true. Sigh. Anyway, hope you enjoy.
PS: Don't the italics make me seem soo sophisticated and grown-up, instead of a thirteen year old who is desperate to go to Disney World? :D
Harry was too exhausted to sleep. There was simply no other way to put it. He lay on the unfamiliar floor, tangled in the unfamiliar hot blanket, and listened to the sea breeze whistling by the window of Shell Cottage.
A quiet murmur came from next to him, and Harry turned over to see Ron. He was mumbling something in his sleep. Although it wasn't loud enough for Harry to hear properly, he figured Ron was probably saying 'Hermione' over and over again, just like in the Malfoy's cellar. On that, Harry would bet his -
Your what? A jeering voice from inside his mind asked, and Harry realized he didn't have much he could bet. His broomstick was gone, his wand was gone, Hedwig was gone, and all the gold in his vault was virtually worthless. Those weren't the things that mattered most to him (he would trade them all for peace, and to see Ginny again), but it was yet another reminder of their situation.
Harry rolled back onto his back, ignoring the indistinguishable whispers from Ron. Once again, he closed his eyes, but sleep was far away. Frustrated, he sat up, throwing the blanket off his body (it landed on Ron's face). He needed a drink of water, or something.
In the kitchen, the fridge was humming pleasantly. When he opened it, the light shining across the linoleum floor comforted him, for some strange reason. It reminded him of a home he might have known if his parents hadn't been murdered. He pulled out a carton of milk and, after a little hunting through the cabinets, poured himself a glass of milk.
Sipping the milk, Harry wandered into the living room, where Hermione and Luna were sleeping. Ron and Harry had originally insisted on the girls sleeping in the spare bedroom, which had the only bed not being used in the cottage. Him, Dean, and Ron would take the living room. However, after dinner Hermione had fallen asleep on the couch, and when Fleur had tried to get her to move, she'd moaned about being too tired to move. Ron had offered to carry her, but she'd given him such a dark look that he quickly dropped the idea.
Luna, as always, was perfectly unperturbed and had said calmly that she didn't mind sleeping on the floor by Hermione if she was too sleepy to get up. Harry suspected it was all just a clever plot to get him, Ron, and Dean sleeping in the spare room (but probably mostly Ron), as she'd been very reluctant to take the spare bedroom in the first place. She'd failed, anyway. Ron had stubbornly refused to take the bed. Dean was sleeping in it, at the moment.
Now that his eyes had adjusted to the semi-darkness, he saw Hermione was curled up on the couch under a quilt. Luna was lying on the ground like someone in a coffin, her back straight and her hands lying on her stomach. Frightened, Harry put the milk down on the coffee table and tiptoed forward. He was relieved to see that Luna was breathing.
Something moved next to him. Out of instinct, Harry jumped back and pulled out his wand, but it was only Hermione, stirring in her sleep. And then she too started talking. Her voice was clearer than Ron's, though - she sounded fully awake, which made it all seem surreal. It also sounded scared.
"Mum," she said. "Mum, Dad… I didn't want to, I swear, I'm sorry… No!" Her entire body was shaking now, and she was getting louder. "Please! Leave me alone… Ron, Harry, don't do it… you're hurting him, stop!" Then, even more bizarre, she seemed to be speaking a sort of demented and strangled Parseltongue. Harry caught the words open and leave before it stopped, and she started talking in English again. "Ron, I didn't, he didn't… No! Please, no, it hurts, stop -"
"Hermione!" hissed Harry. He ran forward and grabbed her arm, giving her a little shake. Just like that, she stopped shrieking, and became still. Harry pulled back his hand, breathing hard. Hermione slowly sat up. After a minute, her eyes focused on him.
"Ron," she said. It wasn't a question.
"It's - it's me, Hermione, it's Harry," said Harry, still shaken. He had been expecting someone to come running, but the cottage was still. Everyone was still asleep. Even Luna didn't stir.
"Right." Hermione nodded. He couldn't be sure, but her eyes seemed wet. Then she looked away, staring determinedly at a lamp behind him.
There was a pause. Harry, hesitantly, sat down on the floor and said, "Are you all right?"
"Fine," she responded coolly, not turning her head.
"Positive." Her voice was rough. She cleared her throat
Harry knew this was a lie. She was still shaking ever so slightly, and her hair was sweaty. After another moment devoid of sound except for the ocean, he said, "You were talking in your sleep."
"Oh, really?" asked Hermione, in a tone so colorless they could've been talking about clothes. "What did I say?"
"Um, a lot of stuff… you mentioned your mum and dad, and you said my name, and Ron's… you even said some stuff in Parseltongue."
"Well, that make sense. It creeps me out when you talk in it," said Hermione thickly. She sniffed.
Was she crying? Harry squinted at her. "Hermione -"
"What?" she whispered, choked up. Definitely crying.
"I don't suppose you had a nightmare?"
"Of course I had a nightmare, you're not the only one who's allowed to bloody dream," snapped Hermione through tears.
Harry didn't say anything, listening to Hermione cry quietly. He hadn't really ever thought about Ron or Hermione having nightmares. Harry had always been the one to have the foreshadowing, deeply meaningful, horrible dreams that usually ended with ones near him dying. He supposed his two best friends must've had nightmares in the seven years he'd known them, but if they had, the dreams must have not been vital in solving some huge problem, and therefore had never been mentioned.
"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Harry quietly. "I mean, what happened?"
Hermione blinked at him, her eyes flickering over his face. Finally, she wiped her eyes and said, "I was home. In my room. And my mum and dad were there, and they were so angry… they knew I'd wiped their memories, and they wouldn't let me explain. And I was trying to apologize, and then they changed into Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback, and we were at Malfoy Manor." Harry hadn't thought it possible, but she was talking even softer now. "They wanted the sword, and I knew I mustn't give it to them. But then they were torturing me, and I was dying… and you and Ron tried to save me, but you got k-" She swallowed and took a few shallow breaths.
"Hermione, you don't have to -"
"Would you be quiet?" she growled at him, interrupting him for the second time. "I'm trying to tell you what happened!"
"Sorry, continue," murmured Harry. She really hadn't needed to snap at him, but she was in a pretty fragile emotional state at the moment and he didn't want to upset her any further.
"Thank you," she said stiffly, her tone indicating that she felt bad, but was too proud, as usual, to admit it. "Anyway, you got killed, or just sort of died, I don't know how exactly. And then Ron was dying, but it was taking a lot longer, and he was screaming this horrible scream. And then you were both alive again, and saying these horrible things, you in Parseltongue…." She trailed off. "And then I was in the tent, and I was alone with the Horcrux. You both had left."
"That's awful," murmured Harry. He meant it, too.
Hermione said nothing, but glanced at the door that led to the spare bedroom, where Ron and Dean were sleeping at that moment.
"Do you think he knows?" she murmured.
Hermione glared at him. "Never mind." She rolled over so her back was facing him.
"Never mi - oh, right." Harry nodded, realizing what she meant.
Hermione shifted onto her back and turned her head towards him, a skeptical look on her face. "Honestly, Harry, how you ever figured out your feelings for Ginny is beyond me. You can be so thick."
Harry smiled, though it quickly died as his chest began to throb painfully, an all too familiar feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. "I wish - I just wish we had more time -"
"At least you had time with her at all," said Hermione softly. Once again her eyes drifted towards where Ron was sleeping. "It seems really stupid when you think about it. We don't have time to be worrying about, well -"
"About love," he finished for her. It could be nothing less between him and Ginny, and he had very little doubt in his mind about Hermione and Ron.
"Well, yes… it's positively ridiculous," she went on, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "Completely illogical. Absolutely mental."
"Which is why it only makes sense," said Harry. A random memory of him and Ginny holding hands as they walked the grounds of Hogwarts came to mind. He closed his eyes and tried to absorb it, desperately hoping that, through some miracle, she'd appear in front of him, as beautiful and understanding as ever.
"Harry… sometimes I think I'm going mad," whispered Hermione.
Harry opened his eyes, and looked through the peaceful darkness wildly, searching for Ginny.
He knew exactly how she felt.
I honestly have no idea how well I did, so if someone could clue me in that is fantastic. I read all reviews, and respond to them when I can. Every review counts. Together, we can make a difference!