He was in a forest, he was being chased. They were coming, he knew they were, he could hear them, he had to run, to hide...
A scream echoed. No! They couldn't have, they hadn't...
Another scream, and he was in a corridor, running towards the screams, because if he didn't, she would die, it would all be over...
'Harry, Harry, stop!'
He could see her, they were torturing her, she screamed again, he had to do something...
"No! NO! Stop, PLEASE!"
'Harry, Harry!'
They had him, he was caught, he screamed, kicked, anything to get away, away from what he knew would happen next...
"Avada Kedavera."
Someone was screaming, perhaps it was him, but it didn't matter, it was over, she was gone, he was falling, falling...
'HARRY!'
He woke with a yell to find someone holding him down. He blinked, still partially in the dream. Ron blinked back at him. He looked grim. Harry sat up, shaking. He was drenched in sweat and his head pounded. They were in the tent still, not in any corridors. He realised Hermione was also there, hanging off the ladder. She looked at him with a mixture of worry and frustration.
'You were shouting, mate. Telling someone to stop –' Hermione cut Ron off, now looking harassed.
'Harry, for goodness sake, you must close your mind! If he gets into your head...' both of them shuddered. Harry shook his head.
'It wasn't him, Hermione. It was just a nightmare. You don't have to shout.'
'I'm not shouting, and Harry, please don't insult our intelligence again, we know it was him, it always is!' Harry hadn't seen her so worked up since Ron had come back. Something about her tone touched a nerve.
'It wasn't him. For your information, Hermione, my life doesn't revolve around You-Know-Who. I do care about other people, you know.' Hermione looked hurt, and Ron annoyed, but Harry was too worked up to care. 'For a smart person, you're incredibly stupid.' He was shaking still, but he ignored it. 'Leave me alone. Get out of my way.'
He grabbed his clothes and went into the bathroom without looking at either of them. He couldn't think straight. Her face, frozen as the spell hit her, was ingrained in his mind. He had to find out that she was alright, that the dream had been just that, a dream. There was no way he could contact her...
Sickness rose in his chest. He forced himself to swallow it and go back out to the kitchen. Hermione was stirring porridge, her back to him. She didn't look around when he came in, meaning she'd probably been crying. A bad sign. Ron was sitting at the table, pretending to read the three-day-old newspaper they'd scrounged from a bin. Harry sat in one of the other chairs, wondering if they expected him to say something. They'd clearly been talking while he'd got dressed.
Ron rustled the pages of the paper. Harry, as accustomed to Ron as he was, knew exactly what that meant. He was irritated, and he wanted Harry to apologise for upsetting Hermione, and he knew that Harry knew. Harry, however, wasn't in the mood.
'What?' he snapped, and was rewarded by a little gasp from Hermione and the newspaper lowering to show Ron's face. 'Look, I'm sorry I shouted at you,' he glanced at Hermione, she stared back, her porridge spoon hovering in mid-air, 'but I wanted you to believe me. And I don't want to talk about it.' He sat back and stared at the Sneakoscope, which sat on the table, not moving.
Images swamped his memory. He closed his eyes, then opened them so quickly the tent walls spun. He couldn't stand it. What if they were right? What if it was real, and something had happened to her? What if she was... No. No. Mustn't think that, mustn't think that...
'Harry?' He blinked. He'd been up and pacing without even realising it. Ron abandoned the paper, then grabbed Harry's arm and led him into the bunkroom. Harry glanced around, half-expecting there to be some sort of sign, of Death Eaters perhaps, then decided he was getting paranoid.
'Look,' said Ron, ignoring the look Harry gave him. 'You might not want to talk about it, but you're in a right state and I think it might be good if you got it out.'
Harry hesitated. It wasn't that he didn't trust Ron, he just didn't think he could talk about it. 'When... when you left' - Ron reddened slightly - 'you said something about me not caring about your family. Well, I do. They're the closest thing I've got to a proper family, and I'm just as worried about them as you are. And just now I saw - at least, I dreamed I saw - someone get tortured. I, I...' he stopped, and buried his head in his hands. Ron was gripping the side of the bunk so hard his knuckles were white. They looked at each other, two teenagers in a tent in the middle of nowhere, worried sick about the people they cared about. And unable to do anything about it.
'It was - it was-' He was on his feet, shaking hard. His breath came out in loud pants. Ron had a vice-like grip on his elbow and wasn't letting go.
'Who?' He hissed urgently. 'Who?'
'What's going on?' Hermione asked. She stood in the doorway, her eyes wide. 'Ron...'
'Ginny.' Just like that. One word, and the floodgates opened. Blinded by tears, he wretched himself free of Ron and staggered outside. He only made it a few yards before his knees gave way and he sank to the ground. He felt as bad as if she really was dead. Memories, real ones, jousted for his attention. Her blazing look, how calm she was when he told her they couldn't be together, her flowery scent, conversations they'd had... he buried his head in his hands.
After some amount of time, he realised Ron was crouched next to him. They looked at each other. Then Ron rested a hand somewhat awkwardly on Harry's shoulder.
'She's tough, Ginny is. She'll be alright.'
Harry made a face. 'That doesn't make me feel any better.'
'Me neither. I suppose at least it gives us some more incentive to get this over as soon as we can, doesn't it?' He offered Harry his hand, and hauled him to his feet. They started back towards the tent. Halfway, Harry cried out and clutched his forehead as his scar exploded with pain.
Hermione ran forward, but Ron grabbed her, and they stood in shock as Harry, still crying out in pain, sank slowly to the ground. Ron took a step forward, but faltered as Harry began to spasm violently. He was still grunting in pain. Then, as suddenly as it started, it was over. Harry was still.
'Harry?'
His head jerked up so quickly that Hermione gasped. He turned his head towards them, and Ron uttered an oath as they both stumbled backwards.
His eyes were red with black slits for pupils. Voldemort's eyes. Hermione clutched Ron's arm a little harder. Harry looked straight at them, then, with Voldemort's high voice he spoke.
'She is dead. We will see how brave the boy hero is now.'
Harry's eyes rolled back, he gave a ragged gasp and collapsed to the ground.
To all those people who are asking about another chapter for this fic:
As much as I love the story, I have no ideas for how I could continue it and enjoy writing it still. So unless I have a sudden inspiration, this is only ever going to be a one-shot.
Thanks for the support, though!