Run faster. You wont make it!" Hermione heard him yell as she ran quicker. She could see him. Standing by the door. Beckoning for her, reaching toward her. She could feel the blood pumping through her veins, her breath shorten.
"I… I can't." she stopped, tears streaming down her face. Her lungs seemed to cut off all air. "Please… wait." She saw him reach for her. And then he was gone.
Hermione sat up quickly in bed. Breathing heavily she pried her eyes open to a familiar sensation. Her pajamas were soaked through with a mixture of urine and sweat. She could still feel the dryness of her face where the streams of tears had ran down her ashen skin. Again, the same dream, the same effects. She slowly pulled back the covers and stepped out onto the cold floor. (How embarrassing, every night! Wetting the bed was for babies, not for 16 year olds.) She silently peeled off her drenched pajamas and threw them in the corner of her room. Hermione wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now, she knew it. She glanced at the clock. 2:30 AM. (Well, at least I am getting better. Last night was 1 o'clock.)
She walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. It blinded her for a few seconds but left a pounding headache. She reached into the shower and slowly turned the cool metal handle to hot. The water shot out of the head and pounded to the tile floor of the shower. She quickly stripped herself of her bra and underwear and stepped into the steaming hot shower. The initial shock of the scorching water on her chilly skin reminded her just how weird the dream had really been. The hot water drowned her frustration to confusion. Why am I dreaming this? Who is it calling out to me? Why won't he WAIT? Finally she remembered why she was in the shower in the first place and grabbed the soap to clean off the foul odor of urine.
Thirty minutes later she stepped out and grabbed the inviting towel off the rack. She wrapped it around her carefully, and prepared to clean up after herself.
"Harry!" Hermione ran to catch up with them. She looked at him with the eagerness in her eyes and Harry knew it was important.
"Excuse me but the fair lass requests to speak to me. I bid you all adieu" Harry bowed as he jokingly spoke to his quidditch team although he was really just saying it to tease Hermione. It worked.
"Harry, knock it off. This is really serious," Hermione pushed him gently as soon as they were away from the crowd. "The dreams are getting more detailed, more vivid. I'm scared, Harry."
He put his arms comfortingly around her. She leaned gently against his chest, the pure affection she felt for him made all her fears go away, as long as she was in his protecting arms. "It's ok 'Mione. It's just a dream." He paused. "Don't go all Professor Trelawney on us." He meant it as a joke but Hermione was in no joking mood. She pushed him away.
"Never you mind, Harry Potter. Obviously, my concern doesn't matter to you at all. I'm sorry to have taken you away from your precious fan club. I am sure they must be worried by now." She didn't mean it to be harsh but that's how it came out. She didn't even feel remorse when he flinched. She just turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving a very confused Harry behind.
Who are you?
Haunting my dreams
Is this what it seems
Are you for real?
Why must I
Dream you every night?
I can't put up a fight
I'm too far gone.
Why must you?
Are you my friend or foe?
Is there any hope?
Why…
"Granger."
Hermione paused and looked up from her notebook. Professor McGonagall looked at her intently. Hermione cleared her throat and looked the teacher in the eye with an honest look in her eye. "The answer is pollywogs and drifferdrugs."
"Very good, Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor." The attention was brought away from Hermione and she sighed in relief. Thank goodness the question was written on the board. She went back to her notebook, but her train of thought was gone. She read her poem. (Wow, that was pretty good. Almost like I wasn't writing it…) The class bell rang and she gathered her belongings wondering were this sudden burst of talent came from. (I've never written poetry before.)
She walked slowly to the Great Hall for dinner. She wasn't hungry. But as people say… she must keep up appearances. Mainly just for Harry and Ron. If she didn't go, they would search for her. And right now she didn't want to talk to them. But either way she would have to. At least this way she wouldn't be questioned for trying to be alone. Although to herself, she is alone, always, even when a million people are around her. It's like she was in her own bubble. Everything everyone says is muffled, like when she was little and would cover her ears with a pillow when her mother would vacuum early in the morning.
She plastered a smile on her face as she saw Harry and Ron wave her over to their normal spot. (Maybe this won't be as hard as I thought.) She practically skipped over to the bench and dropped her backpack. She slid in next to Ron. He made her feel most comfortable today. She felt she couldn't trust herself sitting by Harry.
Quickly though, the conversation turned to quidditch and Hermione was left to think. Which didn't happen. She just sat there, staring off into space, not really knowing where she was looking. That is until Harry looked at her.
"Hermione! Why are you staring at Draco?" Harry said so loud practlicly the whole Gryffindor table turned to face her. She felt her cheeks go red.
"Oh, forgive me Harry. I forgot I wasn't allowed to have the privilege to stare off into space anymore." She retorted nastily. "You don't own me and for your information I wasn't staring at Draco! Bloody hell!" She grabbed her backpack off the floor, swung it over her shoulder and stormed out.
"Hermione!" Harry stood to follow her, but Ron just grabbed Harry's arm and shook his head.
"It's not worth it, mate. She just needs to steam." He gently pulled Harry down. Harry's eyes were clouded and confused. What did he do to her that is making her so mad at him?
He woke with a start. The sweat dripping off his pale face. His eyes alive and scared. She was in danger. And he couldn't save her. He had never felt this before. This… concern. Who was the beautiful girl? Why did she stop running? Why wouldn't she come to him? And why did he leave right when she asked him for his help?
He hated Professor McGonagall. She bored him. All she did was talk in a monotonic voice. Talk about boring. He pulled out his magical spell book his father had given him last year. Magical quill, magical quill aha. Found it.
"With this spell that I repeat may they see what I write May their quill repeat every word that flows and may they see What I want them to know." He muttered the words under his breath. Then looked up. No one had noticed, thank goodness. He dipped his quill into the ink, and started writing what he wanted her to see.
Who are you?
Haunting my dreams
Is this what it seems
Are you for real?
Why must I
Dream you every night?
I can't put up a fight
I'm too far gone.
Why must you?
Are you my friend or foe?
Is there any hope?
Why…
And then his quill stopped. It wouldn't budge. What's going on? He tried to force his hand to write more but the quill just broke in half. The connection must have broken. Oh well… he sighed…at least she knows half of it.
He sighed and stood from the table in the Great Hall. His "friends" were so boring. Everyday all he did was the stupid same routine. Get up, go to class, listen to stupid teachers, go to lunch, listen to boring friends, go back to boring class, and go to dormitory, sleep. He picked up his backpack and started to walk out.
"Where ya goin?" The fat bloke who had been talking stopped to turn to him.
"Out."
He walked to the doors of the school. He wasn't supposed to go out, it was already dark, but since when had he listened to the rules? He walked out into the crisp air and looked up. The black sky looked so dark against the white snowflake. It made him shiver. Am I like that? I probably didn't even deserve the girl in his dreams. He sighed again and sat down in the frigid snow. He could feel his eyes dry even though in his heart he was crying. Usual. After he couldn't feel his feet, butt, and hands anymore he stood and walked slowly back in to the school. Unsure whether he was more lost now or before.
A/N: hey you guys! This is my first story… can you comment on it to tell me if you like it.. and if not what I can do better? Thanks!