A/N: This is for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition; I'm Chaser #1 of the Wimbourne Wasps and we are to write about a particular genre that isn't used as much as others.

The genre I chose: Horror

Prompts Used:
#1: (dialogue) "So…what exactly is that?"
#3: (opening sentence) Time was running out.
#12: (word) keyhole

Nightmare Realities

Time was running out.

Hermione had been rushing around her flat all morning trying to make sure she had everything ready for her first day on the job. She knew she should have prepared herself the night before, but there was just too much going on. She had just moved into this new place on the other side of London, and she just wasn't settled yet. Hermione believed she could function correctly on four hours of sleep, but she was deeply mistaken.

When she had finally made it out of her flat and into her office, she realized that she had left her briefcase stranded next to her couch back at her place.

"This is not my morning," she sighed, disapparating to what she thought was her living room.

Instead, she ended up standing in this unfamiliar hallway. The wallpaper that was covering the entire hallway was starting come off the walls and all of the doors that led to other flats appeared to have been beaten on or broken into. However, there was one door that hadn't been broken into; Hermione's door. It still had the welcome sign on the door that was slightly crooked and the paint still looked fresh.

"Hello?" Hermione called out.

The only response she received were the creaks and groans that echoed through the destroyed hardwood as she slowly walked towards her door. She didn't remember the hallway looking like this a mere five minutes ago when she was leaving. The closer she moved towards the door the more narrow the hallway became. She was struggling with her breath as she fumbled around in her purse for her keys.

The creaking was echoing in her ears as she hurried to get the key in the keyhole but she couldn't figure out why the creaking was getting louder. There was no one in the hallway but her. At least, that's what she thought.

She nearly screamed when she got the door open. She slammed it behind her and placed her head on the cool door. She calmly debated in her mind about who to call for the hallway damages but decided that she could do that when she got back to work.

"What in the world is going on?" she asked herself, closing her eyes while taking a deep breath.

When she opened her eyes, a new wave of panic washed over her once calm demeanor as she stared into the black room. It appeared to be night time which was confusing to Hermione for obvious reasons. She couldn't have fallen asleep against the door, could she? Not for an entire day! The fact that it was now nighttime was not the only thing that unnerved her.

She looked around at an empty apartment that was covered in black. Black walls, black curtains, and an eerie black shadow that sat in the way of the moonlight. There was no one there for the shadow to belong to but it started moving towards her quickly across the hardwood. She wanted to move but she couldn't. Fear had frozen her footsteps and the creaking had returned with every move the shadow made on the floor. Panic had settled in the pit of her stomach when she realized that she couldn't move her hands to be able to grab her wand from her bag. She had no way to defend herself and the shadow was coming closer and closer with every creak and groan.

The movements resembled a Dementor and Hermione started to turn cold. Goosebumps rose up her arms and shivers of pure fear ran down her spine. The shadow was now mere centimeters from her but breathing cold air into her face. She couldn't speak, and she definitely couldn't scream for help. Was this the source of the hallway destruction? Was this thing a magical being like her? She didn't know.

The shadow had belonged to something but it was something she couldn't see. Suddenly, the moonlight disappeared and she was left in pure darkness. The link to the shadow used what she assumed to be a hand to trace a line up and down her arm, leaving the feeling of slime in its tracks. Hermione's breathing was becoming quite rapid and tears of panic were starting to fall down her cheeks.

She felt herself being lifted up and hurled across the room. Her back hit a wall and she managed to let out a groan of discomfort. She scurried to her feet and went to search her bag for her wand. After finding her wand in her bag she looked up to see no sign of the shadow or the cause of the shadow.

She could only see the sunlight flooding in through her bedroom window and landing serenely on her crumpled up sheets. Her body was drenched in sweat and her already frizzy hair was a little more untamed than usual. Hermione sat up slowly and looked around at her flat that seemed to have everything in its place. Her skirt from the previous day was folded carefully over the back of her chair and her fresh laundered towels were still sitting on top of her dresser.

She had never been more confused in her life.

"So…what exactly is that?" she asked herself.

"Some people call it a nightmare," Ginny answered, coming around the corner reading the Daily Prophet.

Ginny placed Hermione's copy of Witches Weekly on the end of her bed and threw a wet washcloth over to Hermione.

"What does it mean?" Hermione asked, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"Sometimes they don't mean anything. You were screaming pretty loudly though. I had to close your bedroom door," Ginny informed her, pushing Hermione's folded clothes out of the chair and plopping down on it.

"Ginny, you're my roommate! Why didn't you wake me?" Hermione asked, folding the towel and setting it on her nightstand.

"I tried. You didn't budge," Ginny said, eyeing Hermione carefully.

Hermione just stared at the spot behind Ginny's head and didn't dare move.

"Hermione, are you okay? You look really pale," Ginny questioned.

Hermione couldn't answer for fear that the black shadow behind Ginny's head would leap out to get her or Ginny. The feeling of panic settled back into her stomach and she wasn't able to move again. She couldn't tell if her nightmare was still a nightmare or if it had become a reality.