Authors note: Hello! This is my first fanfic. (..of many I hope because then my whole fanfic 'career' would be a little short eh? hah.) I hope that you all like it. Please review, whether you have good things to say or bad. (If they're bad though, limit it to constructive criticism. please don't flame me:( ..) But yeah.reviewing is good..karma or something. xox Annie

p.s. Keep in mind that thoughts are in italics...just so you don't get confused..

Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. No money is being made on this..ya-da-ya-da… and such. Enjoy.

Without further ado..

Somniare

Ch. 1: Somniare

My eyes flutter. I just can't seem to open them. They seem to be weighed down by the consequences of my actions. These heavy eyelids render me blind and helpless to the world around me. I am too afraid. Courage where have you gone? The films, the memories,
which play behind my burdensome eyelids, seem like they should haunt me; that is, if they weren't so blurred. I now wish to go back into my unconscious state. I'm too frightened of the reality that I'll have to face. I slowly pry my eyes open.

How could this happen? My future was supposed to be bright! My friends and family were supposed to be safe. Why was I dealt this fate?

They say that all roads lead to Rome. Well, my road certainly curved the wrong direction. Godric's Hollow used to be the town of a certain very cozy home; Back when Harry's mother and father were alive. But what is so alluring about it now? It cannot be this now dilapidated house. And it certainly can't be the massacre of bodies that lie before me; each with a face, very young faces, that I know. Maybe someone with a morbid curiosity would somehow find the road to come here, but I need to get away. Far away.

It is eerie standing here in this battlefield. There is no blood for the most part. Avada Kedavra doesn't leave traces. It looks as if they are all sleeping. The hundreds of bodies are all just sleeping. Maybe that's just what I'll continue to tell myself for the sake of my sanity.
I push of the body lying on my torso. As it rolls over I realize who it is. Ron? I start to sob uncontrollably and my body shakes. My Ron. I stretch my hand out to caress his abnormally pale face and neck. He has no pulse. I hug Ron to me. I kiss him gently. Will this revive
him? No.
This kiss reminds me much of our first when he was unconscious down by the lake. Well, I was really just giving him CPR, but what's the point in thinking about it now? It's obviously our last.

"Goodbye Ron," I say. Cold skin loses contact with warm and I release him. Physically and metaphorically, I let go of my Ronald. My head is thumping. This headache is unbearable. I must have hit my head. What happened? I found an open patch of dirt and sat to think. Maybe using the word 'think' is a euphemism for me. I really sat to breakdown. Memories flash when I close my eyes. I must stop the tears from welling. They are slowly blinding me. The world is a blur. Harry. Oh my God! Where is Harry? What happened? The last thing that I remember is him pushing me out of the way of a stray curse. I need to find him.

I step lightly over bodies almost as if I am afraid to wake them. I tiptoe among the dead. I cannot stop sobbing every now and then at faces I knew that were once contorted in pain. I use my tears to ebb out the faces, to fade the transfixed stares. I wipe away the veil of water I'm hiding behind and gaze up at the rock overlooking the area. Coming over the edge of the rock are tufts of black hair. My heart stops. Harry.

I dart up the path that leads to him. Corpses litter the trail and I climb over them frantically to get to what I think is Harry. I finally reach the top. I feel my once subsided tears coming back up from their depths. I am the only one standing. This rock overlooking the battle gives the 'perfect' view of the overwhelming sea, the massive sea of bodies. D.A. and Order of the Phoenix members lay among Death eaters. The good have been slain alongside the evil. I tear my eyes away from the scene I 'luckily' have a birds-eye-view of and my breath catches once I see two bodies lying before me. One is Voldemort's withered corpse. His snake slits eyes are closed. He looks rather peaceful actually. Bloody Bastard.He deserves a worse fate. I give him a swift kick in anger and look to other body on my right. But this other mangled mound surely is not Harry. At least I hope that it isn't. My shaking hand reaches out to touch the body. I start to turn him over to face me, but he jerks around as if he's trying to fight me, but lacks the strength to do so.

"Hermione," says the small voice of Harry, "are you okay?"

I pull him into a light embrace to hold him close, yet not hurt him further. I choke out while the tears start to swell, "I'm fine."
He reaches up gingerly to place his hand on my cheek, trying to wipe away my tears and anxiety.
His other hand is applying pressure to the wound in his side, the blood is gushing; there is no way to stop the river. He quietly takes his hand from my face down to my hand. My heart skips a beat. What is he doing? "Hermione, I can't die today without letting you know the truth," Harry spoke softly, "I…I love you Hermione. I have since the day I met you. I d-didn't want to go without telling you that… I just thought that I would have more time."

My heart ached. How could I have been so stupid? I never acted on my emotions all those months ago. I thought then that I was in love with Ron, that night when Harry tried to kiss me. I thought then that I loved Harry just as a friend. But I as stare at him now, bleeding, dying, somehow smiling, I see that watching him die is affecting me much more than Ron's death. It feels like something is clawing at my insides, and if it's even possible, like I might regurgitate my intestines. My heart feels like it is burning and about to combust. I feel like porcelain and I am cracking.

I stare into those startling green eyes watching the light in them start to dim. He keeps saying my name. It sounds so good to hear. He keeps trying to give me smiles; trying to fool me into thinking that everything is okay. Does Harry think that this helps? I want to save him like he saved me. I need to save him just like I needed to be saved all those years ago from loneliness. I needed him to crack through the, "very intelligent Hermione Granger," facade. This is the first time that I do not have an answer. How ironic. Know it all Hermione Granger does not have an answer. Even thinking this makes me repulsed, and saying it is almost like a type of venom. Being smart is all I
have. But now all I wish I had was Harry. But stop Hermione. Stop thinking all of these thoughts. Stay in this moment with him lying in your arms. Pretend he is not dying. Hermione, deceive your emotions and just smile at him. Let Harry die happy.

I bring his hand in mine and give it a small peck. I then lean down and kiss his cheek before chastely, but passionately meeting his lips. I pull away and see that I have soaked his face with my tears, while he has soaked the front of my shirt with his blood. Through sobs I manage to whisper, "I love you too, Harry."

He smiles at me weakly, trying flashing me the grin that I've always secretly adored. It seems as if time has slowed down. We stare into each other's eyes as if trying to reach the souls within. I realize that his lips are moving. "What is that, Harry?" I quietly ask. His lips keep moving, but I cannot seem to hear him. I talk only slightly louder, as if I'm still afraid to wake the dead, "Harry?" Suddenly his voice becomes clear, too clear. He is screaming, "Wake up, Hermione!"

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Hermione wakes up with dried tears caking her face and her voice fails her has her dorm mate, Lavender, tries to soothe her with, "It's all all right, Hermione. It was just nightmare." This does not stop Hermione from shaking. She is so cold, but feels as if the place where Harry's blood was drenching her shirt is the only warmth she has. "I'm o-okay," Hermione replied shakily, "T-Thank you." Lavender gives Hermione one last pat before vacating Hermione's bed to return to her own. It felt so real. Hermione thought to herself. She laid herself back down and fixed her twisted covers only to lay for the next few hours before breakfast, wide awake, eyes open as if searching for the answers to her dream around the room.

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Hermione wasn't the only one in Gryffindor not sleeping soundly though. In the next dormitory over, the boy's dormitory, Harry awoke with the start. He could feel tears saturating his face, but they weren't really there. His scar twinged, but his mind didn't think of Voldemort, they strayed to Hermione. He didn't know why, but he felt as if she needed him. Crazy feeling. Harry thought, She has Ron. Harry rolled over and thought to himself one last time before the sleepless hours ahead. The tears felt so real.

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