Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with it.

A/N: I haven't written Harry Potter fanfiction in a little over a year, I think. It feels like longer. I have been writing (and writing fanfiction) though, so I'm not entirely out of practice. In fact, I think I've gotten better. Anyway, I just recently got into this pairing and I've been itching to write and then this idea came to me, so…

To cut this note short, I'll just get to the point. This story's fully consistent with the books up until the Half Blood Prince. It's set in Harry's sixth year, Snape's still the Potions professor, Slughorn's not even in this and there will be a few events from HBP that will be in this story. That's all! Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Violent nightmares, pseudo character deaths, eventual slash... You know -- the usual. ;]

And a Lullaby

Chapter One: The Nightmare

After the end of his fifth year, Harry thought that his life couldn't get any worse. He'd lost his godfather – practically his second father that he'd never really known – and despite what everybody told him, he knew it was fault. He was too weak and too careless. What good would he be when he had to fight against Voldemort?

This had been a great concern of Harry's ever since he found out that he really did have to fight Voldemort. He had always known, of course, that he inevitably would have to face the Dark Lord, but now the prophecy had settled that without a doubt. And to make matters worse, it seemed that it was life or death for Harry.

Harry worried that he would never be strong enough to face Voldemort and he couldn't imagine casting the Killing Curse on anybody, not even the slimy, dirty snake who deserved it. He thought he was too young to die though, so he'd have to put all his Gryffindor bravery to use. Besides, the entire Wizarding world was depending on him to be its savior; he couldn't let anyone else down.

With all this riding on his shoulders, it was no surprise that Harry was near his breaking point. It was all quite a bit for any sixteen year old to have to think about. As it was, Ron and Hermione were treating him like he was fragile glass, which was actually doing more harm than good for him. He understood that they cared, but they didn't understand and Harry was tired of getting all this special treatment.

It seemed that more often than not those days, Harry wished that he was any other ordinary wizard. As it was, there was nothing ordinary about Harry Potter.

Around the beginning of October, Harry started getting visions that hurt his scar. They would come at any time in the day and they seemed to haunt him at night too because he'd spend hours dwelling on them. At first, he tried to hide the visions and pain from Ron and Hermione, but there was hardly anything that went on in Harry's life that the two didn't catch on to. He tried to ignore the visions, remembering the fatal ways things had ended the last time he paid any attention to the violent images he got from Voldemort, but the more he tried to ignore them, the more violent they became. It got to the point where it seemed like Harry was obsessed with them because they were always on his mind.

However, after Harry had to leave the Gryffindors' Halloween party to go to bed early after the pain in his scar almost caused him to faint, Hermione suggested (quite strongly) that Harry go to Dumbledore and ask for Occlumency lessons from Snape again. Harry strongly refused to do either, still mad about the lack of communication between him and Dumbledore after the Ministry incident and certainly not keen on taking up private lessons with Snape again. Hermione called him a stubborn masochist, but Harry wasn't hearing it. The pain from his scar would be nothing compared to the pain he'd get from Snape's lessons and the Order's worry. Harry would just learn to deal with it.

Unfortunately, things only got worse in November. Harry's daydreams became more violently vivid and no longer came to him only in the daytime. Now he got even less sleep because he was having dark nightmares and once he'd woken up from one, he tried his best not to go back to sleep.

As usual, Harry said nothing to his friends, but they all immediately noticed changes in him. He developed bags under his eyes that weren't incredibly dark or heavy, but enough to cause alarm. Ron brought up Harry's nightmares one day at breakfast, mentioning how his cries had woken up half the boys in their dorm, but Harry snapped at him so fiercely that nobody brought it up again.

At least, up until The Nightmare.

It had started out like any other night. The sixth year Gryffindor boys were all in their pajamas and ready to get to bed. Harry grimaced as he slipped under his sheets; he was not looking forward to going to sleep again. If anything, he wished sleep wasn't necessary. Then he'd only have bad daydreams, but those didn't affect him as badly. His mind was truly at its most vulnerable state when he was sleeping and it was harder to get rid of the visions when he wasn't awake. Harry didn't see the point of sleep anymore because he spent so much time trying to stay awake for as long as he could. He just preferred being exhausted to being haunted.

The boys said goodnight to each other and lights were turned off as everyone climbed into their beds. Harry reluctantly took off his glasses and was the last one to turn off his light. He stared at the ceiling of his bed and tried to keep his eyes open despite how tired – physically and emotionally – he felt. He tried thinking of how his day had gone or what his lessons would be like the next day. He tried humming songs in his head. He thought of everything that would keep him awake and keep his thoughts away from the Dark Lord. Still, despite his strong will, it still took Harry less than half an hour to fall asleep. Immediately after his eyes shut, he found himself in a room that looked very much like the spinning room in the Ministry of Magic.

Harry spun around, his face illuminated by the blue flames on the wall. He was entirely unsure of which door to pick. Every door looked the same – dark, grey and taunting. Harry tried to gather his thoughts and concentrate on one door, but he had a throbbing headache and several voices in his head were shouting orders at him. He willed them to shut up but they only seemed to get louder. Harry was near giving up entirely when he felt a hand clamp his shoulder and he jumped from the sudden contact.

He turned his head and was relieved to see Ron grinning at him with Hermione by his side, giving Harry a supportive smile. Harry opened his mouth to ask his friends what they were doing there, but Ron cut him off.

"We're right here for you, mate," Ron assured Harry, tightening his grip of his friend's shoulder as if to emphasize his point. Harry opened his mouth again, but it was Hermione who spoke this time.

"There is no way we're letting you do this alone, Harry. It's not just your fight," she said, her brown eyes bright with determination. Harry was going to say something, but he shut his mouth and nodded instead.

"Go on. We're right behind you," Ron smiled, encouraging Harry to pick a door.

"And we always will be," Hermione added.

Now considerably reassured by his friends, Harry felt a little braver and that much more confident. After Ron gave his shoulder one final squeeze, Harry charged for the first door his eyes landed on once the room stopped spinning. The door opened easily for him but the moment he stepped inside the new room, the door slammed shut behind him with a loud bang. Harry was a little worried by the sound, so he turned around to check on the state of his friends. His heart sunk when he discovered that they were no longer behind him like they'd promised they'd be. He called their names but the only answer he got was his own echo.

"Fuck," Harry cursed under his breath, wanting more than ever to turn back around if only to find his friends again. When he tried to open the door to go back however, the doorknob was hot to the touch and Harry immediately pulled his hand away, shaking it and cursing.

Sighing, Harry turned back around and figured that he had nowhere else to go except for further into the room. Before him was a long, dark hallway with big, empty bookshelves on both sides that were as tall as the ceiling. Harry lit the tip of his wand and started walking down the hallway. In what felt like ten minutes but was really no time at all, Harry came to the end of the hallway which was a large, circular room, not unlike the spinning room he'd been in before. It was like the rest of the hallway with the huge, empty bookcases lined around the room on the walls, but there was a single spotlight hanging from the ceiling that illuminated only the very center of the room.

Harry paused when he saw what was in the center of the room, under the single spotlight. "Professor?" he called out cautiously, taking a small step forward.

His only answers were many incoherent murmurs from Professor Trelawney, who was seemingly strapped down to a throne-like chair in the middle of the room. There were no visible physical restraints, but Trelawney was writhing and struggling against the chair as if she couldn't get off of it. She kept moving her head to look around, her normally wide, bespectacled eyes even wider and with a far-away look in them that could rival Luna Lovegood's.

Harry stepped closer to the spotlight and Professor Trelawney's head snapped up and her eyes met his. Harry felt almost paralyzed by her gaze, but then she looked away and started mumbling again, a little louder and clearer this time.

"The prophecy…false prophecy? False…dead, dead, dead! The Boy Who Died… You're dead to him, Potter… You're going to be dead to him, Harry… You're going to die, Harry Potter. You're going to die Harry Potter. Harry!" Professor Trelawney cried in her usual ominous voice, looking at Harry again. "I've seen it! I've seen the Grim, Harry Potter, and I've seen the Grim die! The veil… You're going to die, Harry Potter! You're going to die! You're-"

Suddenly, Trelawney was incredibly still and Harry felt paralyzed again until she looked away from him. A moment of silence later, Professor Trelawney resumed her incoherent mumbling and writhing. Harry was about to step forward to help his professor when Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the darkness and into the spotlight, resting his hand on the back of the throne.

"Potter," he smirked, looking at Harry's stiff form bemusedly. "Did you think I'd really let you get away with the real prophecy? I would never let a brat like you get in the way of the Dark Lord! Now Sibyll here has been so kind as to reveal the true prophecy to the Dark Lord and his faithful servants. I thought I'd be nice and come here to tell you a bit about your true destiny. You, Harry Potter, will inevitably fail!" Lucius let out a cold, barking laugh and Harry tensed up.

He didn't believe a word Malfoy was saying, but Professor Trelawney looked like she was in trouble. Harry had many questions for the senior Malfoy; he wanted to ask him what he was doing with the Hogwarts professor and what all this talk about a "true" prophecy was about, but Harry couldn't get his lips to move, nor could he get his thoughts so organized. Instead, he tried to step closer to Professor Trelawney, but a shield popped up between them and stopped him in his tracks.

"I don't think so," Lucius said, flicking his wand. Harry gritted his teeth and tried to approach his professor again, but was tossed back and onto the floor this time. "Potter, Sibyll has a little message for you, don't you, Sibyll?"

Lucius flicked his wand again and Trelawney's eyes fell on Harry once more. In a strange, prophetic voice, she began reciting the prophecy that Harry didn't want to hear, over and over. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches! Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies! And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not! And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives! The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

Harry's headache started to throb again but it was harder than the last time and he winced as Lucius started laughing again. The voices in his head started shrieking again and everything in the room started swirling around. There was too much going on and Harry felt like his head was going to burst open. Suddenly everything came to a stop and Harry found himself on his knees in the center of the spinning room.

It was silent for once except for Harry's heavy, quick breathing and he took a second to recuperate before he got up from the floor. He looked around the room, searching for any sign of where Ron and Hermione had been, but he saw none. He couldn't remember the spell Hermione had used to mark what doors they'd been through and he didn't even know which door he had been through, so it didn't really matter. Sighing, Harry wished that he'd had the team of friends who'd gone into the Ministry with him last time with him now; he was sure that things would be going a lot smoother with them here.

Strangely enough, Harry wasn't sure why he was even at the Ministry. All his business there was over and done with. Before he could think too deeply on it, the room started spinning and everything was a blur of blue until it stopped. Harry chose the first door he saw again and hoped that it wasn't the room he'd been in last time.

Harry let out a short breath of relief when he saw it wasn't. The room he was in now was square and dimly lit. The walls were stone and overall, the room looked like a creepy dungeon. There wasn't anything particularly creepy about it though, considering the room was entirely empty. Harry was about to turn back around and go out the door when he heard an unnervingly familiar high-pitched, maniacal laugh.

He turned back around instantly and felt like he had taken a punch to the stomach when he saw his godfather being held up by the throat by Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry tried to run towards Sirius, but it felt as if the soles of his feet had been cemented into the floor. He wanted to cry out in outrage, but his voice box wasn't working. He wanted to do something – prevent Sirius' death from happening all over again – but there was nothing he could do. Harry felt helpless and after a few more minutes of struggling, he gave up with a loud sob.

Neither Bellatrix nor Sirius seemed to notice him though. Bellatrix had a smug sneer on her face. She had her wand pointed at Sirius' head as she held him up by his throat and Sirius was giving Bellatrix the nastiest glare he could. It looked like he was growling as well and Harry knew that if given the chance, Sirius would have turned the tables on the Death Eater.

"Oh cousin," Bellatrix laughed, shaking her head, "whatever will I do with you now? I could kill you… It'd be over before you knew what you hit you – literally." Bellatrix paused to cackle again and Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. "But where's the fun in that? I want to make you suffer! Blood-traitors like you need to pay!"

"Shut up and just kill me already, will you? Death's got to be better than your stupid chattering!" Sirius barked at her, his voice strained from the lack of oxygen he was getting. Bellatrix was shocked silent for a second, but then she tossed her head back and laughed again.

"You're just asking for it, aren't you? Well, why should I? I want to make you scream!" Bellatrix released her grip on Sirius. He'd barely fallen onto the floor before she shouted, "CRUCIO!" Harry flinched when he heard Sirius scream and his body began to thrash about. Sirius' muscles seemed to clench and unclench on their own and he had no control over his body. The pain was immense; it felt like several of his bones were breaking all at once.

The spell didn't end quickly enough and Sirius was left on the floor, panting. Harry's heart really went out to his godfather. Sirius already physically looked like a shadow of the man he once was, but seeing him on the floor, pathetic and seemingly on the brink of life… Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. If only I could move, he thought, clenching his jaw. He wanted to help, he really did. But once again, Harry Potter proved just how useless he was to everyone he cared about.

Sirius groaned and Bellatrix laughed again, shaking her head. "Mutt," she spat. "That's right where you belong. But I don't think you've gotten the entire message, Sirius Black. I don't think you understand just how wrong you were. You turned down the Dark Lord, Sirius!" Bellatrix shrilled.

Sirius' body seemed to be convulsing again, but he was actually shaking with laughter. "You're pathetic, Bella," Sirius chuckled weakly. "That's why I didn't join you and your 'Dark Lord'. You all grovel at his feet like the pitiful slaves you are! And for what? Do you think that your supposed Lord is really going to care for you if he takes over? You'll be tossed away…the whole lot of you…"

"Quiet, you!" Bellatrix cried when she'd heard enough. "Crucio!" Harry could almost feel Sirius' pain as he watched his godfather go into another episode. "Don't you dare speak of the Dark Lord that way! You don't deserve to say his name!" Bellatrix cast another Crucio and it was all Harry could take.

"STOP IT!" he shouted, his voice returning to him. Bellatrix looked up in surprise, her features twisting into another evil sneer when she spotted Harry. The curse was cut short and Sirius lay still, face down on the floor. Harry hoped that he hadn't intervened too late.

"Ah, Potter," Bellatrix grinned, obviously eager for another challenger. "How nice of you to drop by. And just in time to see your dear godfather die. Again." Bellatrix let out a hearty laugh and Harry moved to stop her, but just like with Professor Trelawney and Lucius, a shield appeared before Harry and he couldn't get past it. He cursed loudly and pounded on the wall of the shield, but it was all in vain. Bellatrix had hardly noticed Harry's struggle and was making her way towards Sirius. She grabbed him by the throat and held him up so that they were in the same position they had begun in.

"Goodbye, Sirius," Bellatrix purred, an evil smile on her lips. She held her wand up to Sirius' head and Harry could sense the Killing Curse that was about to be cast. He turned his head away and closed his eyes, not wanting to see his godfather's lifeless body. If there was one thing about Sirius' death that Harry was grateful for, it was the fact that he didn't have to watch Sirius' life physically being taken from him. He wasn't going to see it now.

"No, Potter, you have to watch," Bellatrix urged into Harry's ear. She was incredibly closer to him now than she had been a second ago and Harry wondered how she was right behind him if she was killing Sirius several feet away from him. "Potter, this is something you have to see."

So Harry opened his eyes and nearly threw up from the sight in front of him. Instead of Bellatrix holding her wand to Sirius' head, it was now Harry himself. He had a hungry, maniacal gleam in his eyes and because of the twisted, evil expression, he was hardly recognizable as the Savior of the Wizarding world.

"Goodbye, Sirius," Harry laughed, tightening his grip on Sirius' throat. "AVADA KEDAVRA!" Feeling as if he was being ripped from his navel, the real Harry keeled over and vomited as Bellatrix' laughter rung in his ears. His head started spinning again and when Harry looked up and opened his eyes, he found himself in the spinning room again.

"WHEN IS THIS GOING TO END?" Harry called out to no one, only getting his echoes in response. He panted. He wanted out. There was nothing there for him except terrors and strange mysteries. He needed to find the exit. As soon as the room stopped spinning, Harry went through the door that stopped in front of him. While opening easily, it closed very slowly behind him, but Harry wasn't paying any attention to it. He was intent on finding the exit and getting out of the Ministry, no matter how he'd gotten into it. He would've preferred to escape with Hermione and Ron, but he seriously doubted he'd be able to find and save his friends. It would kill him to leave without them, though…

Harry found himself in a dark room in which he couldn't see anything – it was completely pitch black, but as soon as the door had fully closed, all the lights on the wall behind Harry lit up. He was standing on a seemingly endless balcony. He stepped forward and looked down over the balcony, holding on tightly to the white wooden railing. The space below the balcony was fit for a mansion; the walls were an elegant off-white color and the floor was a shining, gray marble. There were frames on the wall that looked like they were meant for portraits of important people, but they were empty. In fact, except for the frames and the torches behind Harry, there was no furniture in the large room.

Harry wondered if he was meant to jump off the balcony and into the room below, but there had to be at least forty feet between where he was standing and the ground. That was a jump Harry doubted he would survive and he certainly wasn't going to chance it. Still, he didn't see any other way to get off the balcony – or to get anywhere at all, really. Harry sighed and was about to look around for another option when he heard a loud, piercing and eerily familiar scream come from below.

He looked back down at the room and his eyes widened as his grip tightened on the balcony. In the middle of the large room, struggling against Antonin Dolohov, were Ron and Hermione. Harry's eyes widened – they certainly hadn't been there moments before. Harry didn't dwell on the thought because it looked as if Ron and Hermione were having some serious trouble with Dolohov. Hermione was facing the man and had apparently been disarmed by him for she was wandless. She had a determined look set on her face and Dolohov looked less than pleased with her. Ron was behind Dolohov, banging desperately on the barrier that prevented him from getting to the Death Eater and Hermione. He still had his wand on him, but it didn't look as though it was giving him much help. He was calling out Hermione's name and screaming every curse known to man as he slammed all his weight against the barrier. It didn't do any harm to the barrier, but unfortunately the same couldn't be said for Ron.

Dolohov was barely paying any attention to Ron's efforts to get through his barrier and looked down at Hermione with a sneer. "Now, little girl, let me ask you this one last time. Where is Harry Potter?" Dolohov spat, obviously impatient and annoyed by Hermione's stubbornness.

"Don't tell him, Hermione!" Ron screamed, hitting the barrier again. Hermione gave him a sharp look as if chiding him for thinking she would do such a thing.

"Shut up, you!" Dolohov cried angrily, turning around to look at Hermione. Hermione tried to take advantage of the distraction Ron provided but before she could move, Dolohov had turned his attention back to her. "And you, answer me!"

"I don't know!" Hermione cried, telling the truth. "I've told you this already! When will it get through your thick skull-"

"Silence! Crucio!" Dolohov interrupted impatiently. Hermione fell to the floor and went into a violent fit that was similar to a horrible seizure without the foaming at the mouth. Her screams were barely discernible from Ron's, who stopped pounding against the barrier and was now throwing each and every spell he knew at it. This ended up doing more physical damage to him because his spells would bounce off the barrier and hit him instead. After three spells had hit him quite nastily, Ron stopped casting them and resigned himself to sliding down against the wall the barrier provided, breathing rather heavily.

The Cruciatus Curse ended and Hermione was left on the floor in the fetus position. Dolohov took a deep breath before he spoke again. "I'll give you one more chance, Mudblood. Now tell me where Potter is or I'll kill you!"

Hermione looked up at Dolohov with all the hate she could muster and slowly, but stubbornly, got back up on her feet. Once she was standing again, Hermione glared at Dolohov again. "I've told you. I. Don't. Know," Hermione breathed, challenging Dolohov with her eyes.

He searched her eyes to test if she was lying, but Hermione never flinched or looked away from him. Finally, Dolohov gave a frustrated cry and growled at Hermione. "Then you are of no use to me! Vulno!" Dolohov lashed at Hermione with his wand and her eyes widened as a long, violet slash appeared over her chest. Not a moment later, the sick sound of ripping flesh could be heard and Harry's stomach churned unpleasantly when a long line of blood squirted out from Hermione's wound with a horrible squelching sound. Some of her blood splattered on Dolohov's face, but he seemed not to care and didn't wipe at it. Both Harry and Ron, who had scrambled up onto his knees, were wide eyed and completely still as they watched a third of their Golden Trio fall to the ground with a horrified look on her face. When she fell, Hermione gave out one last groan and cough before she died, her blood beginning to pool underneath her lifeless body.

There was a drawn out moment of silence before Ron let out a strangled cry. "NO!" he screamed, all but jumping onto his feet and getting ready to charge through the barrier. Dolohov waved his wand again and the barrier disappeared right before Ron was about to run into it. Ron gritted his teeth as Dolohov looked smugly at the boy running towards him and before Ron got close enough to hurt him, Dolohov stopped the boy in his tracks.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" The flash of green light hit Ron square in the chest and he immediately fell to the ground, his death neither as drawn out, dramatic or gory as Hermione's. Still, Harry's grip tightened even more on the railing and his eyes widened. He felt like crying. He felt exposed and defeated. He'd just watched his two best friends be killed without as much as a second thought and he couldn't have done a thing about it. As it was, he was still stuck on the balcony and he had no idea where his wand was although he was sure he'd had it before he entered the room.

Harry was about to go off and try to find an exit, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, but a voice stopped him in his tracks. "POTTER!" Dolohov called from the room below, making Harry lick his lips nervously. He had nowhere to go – the door he'd gone through had mysteriously disappeared and there didn't seem to be an ending to the balcony he was standing on. He was finished. "You're not getting away this time, my boy! Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry's arms and legs snapped against his body and he went as stiff as a board before falling to the floor. It hurt his muscles intensely to struggle against the curse, but he still tried. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Where had his reflexes gone? Harry tried to move again, but stopped suddenly when an incredible chill overcame him. He'd recognize that depressing iciness anywhere.

Dementors, Harry thought despairingly. He didn't have his wand to defend himself and he couldn't even move. Harry was sure that there were better ways to die than to have your soul sucked out of you, but at this point, it didn't look like he'd have a choice. Then, as if things couldn't get any worse, Harry heard the raspy voice of his arch-nemesis before he saw him.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Voldemort chided, shaking his hooded head as he glided towards Harry. Harry hissed as his scar began to burn fiercely, causing him to wince and narrow his eyes in pain. He could barely make out Voldemort's shape before him, but the sorcerer's voice rang clear through his head. "Harry, Harry, Harry…" It seemed that the more Voldemort said it, the worse his scar would hurt and finally, Harry was reduced to tossing and turning on the ground before him, a feeling of complete helplessness overwhelming him.

He had failed.

"Harry… Harry… Harry…"

"HARRY! HARRY! Wake up, mate! Harry!" Suddenly it was no longer Voldemort's raspy voice in his throbbing head, but Ron's. That's not possible, Harry thought weakly, still thrashing about. Ron's dead. And it's all my fault. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for me…

"Harry!" Harry tried opening his eyes, but everything started swirling around him again and his headache hurt so much he was sure he was bleeding.

"No…" he protested weakly, his voice sounding rough and scratchy. "No… Everyone I care about is dead. I'm probably dead…"

"Harry, what are you talking about? You're right here! We're all right here!" Ron called to him, shaking Harry desperately. Harry tried to open his eyes again and succeeded, pleasantly surprised to find himself in his bed at Hogwarts rather than the spinning room in the Ministry of Magic. His sight was unfocused, but he could make out a blurry image in front of him that looked like Ron Weasley.

"Ron?" Harry called out, furrowing his brow. Were they in some kind of afterlife or alternate universe? Surely they were both dead now, so…

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me, Harry," Ron smiled, glad that his friend was safely awake and no longer thrashing about. "Here." Ron shoved Harry's glasses into the boy's chest and Harry put them on. Everything became much clearer and Harry was now sure that Ron was standing in front of him and they were definitely in the sixth year Gryffindor boys' dorm. Harry wasn't sure how they'd gotten there or why they were there, nor was he sure why everyone else in their year was crowding around his bed now, looking quite worried.

Ron put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry immediately shook it off, giving Ron a suspicious glare. Ron was taken aback and looked at Harry in confusion. "You're not Ron," Harry said, glaring at Ron and the rest of the room. "I just saw you die," Harry continued, focusing back on Ron. "So unless this is some twisted Wizard afterlife, you're not Ron. If this is the afterlife, then what the hell are the rest of you doing here?"

Ron furrowed his brow and looked about the room, questioning the other boys on what to do silently. None of them were any help and just shrugged back at him. Ron bit down on his lip before turning back to Harry. "Um, Harry…we're all alive. You were – you were having a bad dream," Ron explained and several boys behind him nodded. "You were screaming bloody murder and rolling around in your bed and I thought…I thought you were getting another vision. You kept shouting stuff about Sirius and Hermione and me."

"You, you were killed by Dolohov," Harry stammered, looking at Ron. "I watched it. He…he killed Hermione first and then he killed you. I saw it."

"Harry…no one's dead," Ron said carefully, but Harry shook his head fervently. "Look! I can touch you! We're not ghosts and we're not dead!"

"Where's Hermione, then? I watched her die! Where is she?" Harry shouted, partially afraid that his dream was real but even more afraid that it had actually just been a dream. Ron gave the room a worried glance and motioned towards the door. After a moment's hesitation, Neville rushed out of the room and went to find someone to get Hermione.

"Harry, you were probably just having one of your visions-" Ron started to whisper.

"No!" Harry interrupted, cutting him off sharply. Ron flinched at Harry's words. "I saw it, Ron. Professor Trelawney… Sirius… Ron, I killed Sirius."

"What?" Ron cried. He was about to continue but Neville and a rather flustered looking Hermione burst into the boys' dorms. Hermione immediately looked at Harry and then cast a worried glance in Ron's direction.

"Hermione?" Harry called, his voice strained. Hermione sighed and shook her head.

"Harry… What happened?" she asked as she walked past Neville and some of the other boys to get to Harry's bedside, where she stood by Ron.

"I… You're dead," Harry said, trying to explain what he'd seen. "Dolohov…he killed you with this curse. You were bleeding."

"Harry, I'm not dead," Hermione said slowly as if she were speaking to a small child. "Neither is Ron. Nobody here is dead. Not you, not anyone."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but then he saw the looks everyone in the dorm was giving him. Some were looking at him like he was a madman, some were worried and some were just plain confused. Harry sighed and subconsciously rubbed at his scar, which Hermione immediately noticed. She drew her lips into a tight line but didn't say anything at first. Harry looked around the room once more until his eyes landed on Ron and Hermione again. "So…you're alive?"

"Yes, Harry, we're alive," Hermione answered calmly.

"And I just had a really bad dream?" Harry asked, shutting his eyes tightly and wishing that the moment he was living right now was part of the dream. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment; he'd woken up the entire dorm and had disturbed Hermione as well. He didn't even know what time it was. Hermione nodded, answering his question. "Wow. You all must think I'm a madman."

Hermione gave Harry a warm smile and bent over his bed to hug him tightly. "No we don't, Harry. We were just worried about you."

"Yeah, mate, you should've seen yourself," Ron smiled lopsidedly. "The way you were shouting and rolling-" Hermione cut Ron off with a sharp, pointed look and Ron swallowed his words, backing away from Hermione and Harry a little. This didn't go unnoticed by Harry, who spared Hermione a weak smile.

"I, ah… I'm sorry then?" Harry offered to the entire room. The other boys murmured that he didn't need to apologize or that it was fine before they all went back to their beds to get ready for the day ahead of them. Harry ran his hand through his hair before he looked back at his friends. "I'm really sorry, you guys. Especially to you, Hermione. I mean, I-"

"It's fine, Harry. You had a valid reason to want me here. Besides, it doesn't hurt to be up an hour early," Hermione interrupted, stifling a yawn. Harry smiled gratefully at her although he still felt a little guilty about disturbing everyone's sleep.

"Speak for yourself," Ron snorted. "I was up at least an hour and forty five minutes early! You're a deep sleeper!" Hermione unsubtly nudged Ron in the side with her elbow and he yelped in response. Harry only grinned weakly at his friends before falling back down on his bed and closing his eyes. He felt so tired.

"Harry," Hermione called to him, making him open his eyes, "I know you're tired, but we need to talk." Harry groaned inwardly and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Er, could we do that later, Hermione? I'm not sure any of the guys here would appreciate having to change in front of you," Ron said, making Hermione blush as she became fully aware that she was in the boys' dorm. A quick look around the room made it obvious that the boys (well, most of them) were also aware of Hermione's presence and had restrained from taking off any articles of clothing.

"Well, um, yes… I suppose we'll just talk at breakfast," Hermione said, clearing her throat and keeping her eyes on Ron and Harry. "But don't think I'll forget. Well, talk to you two later." She quickly left, but not after accidentally bumping into a shirtless Seamus Finnigan which only made her blush harder. Harry and Ron watched amusedly as Hermione left, but when she was gone, Ron gave Harry another serious look.

"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked him, raising an eyebrow a little. Harry nodded as he sat up again.

"Yeah, Ron, I'm fine. I didn't mean to scare everyone like that," Harry murmured, looking at his sheets. Ron nodded but didn't say anything and a moment of silence passed. Finally, Ron cleared his throat, causing Harry to look up at the redhead.

"Uh, that's the worst it's been in a while, right?" Ron asked, his gaze not meeting Harry's eyes, but resting on the boy's scar instead.

Harry sighed. "I think that's the worst it's ever been."

Aaaand…that's it! For the first chapter, at least. Thanks for reading! I've got a few little notes:

- Vulno is from the verb vulno, vulnare in Latin which translates to wound. I imagine it to be a great slashing motion and depending on the feeling and power the spell caster puts into it, it can do little harm or be fatal.

- Just in case some people don't remember, the boys in Gryffindor can't get into the girls' dorms because of the whole changing staircase thing, but the girls can get into the boys' dorms, which is why Hermione was able to get into the dorm.

I think that's about it. Thanks again for reading!