An eighteen year-old Hermione Jean Granger sat up on her bed. Her nightmares were gettting worse. It seems that her past experiences were catching up with her. She felt her forehead all over, the skin getting pushed and pulled.

It was a mandatory habit with Hermione. It obviously didn't hurt, as it recently would have for her best friend Harry Potter. After all of his episodes with a searing pain in his forehead, she felt it was necessary to check.

It had been three weeks since she had come home from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And she wasn't there to study and learn, she was there to battle. There, all the hardship that she had ever faced in her life had been destroyed. She, Harry Potter, and her boyfriend Ron Weasley had defeated and killed Lord Voldemort and brought many innocent deaths to justice. She, along with Harry and Ron, wer probably celebrites in the world of magic, but she didn't hang around long enough to know for sure.

A few days after the mess, she boarded the Hogwarts Express without Harry or Ron and went, it was too painful for her. She couldn't stay near her dead friends and the destroyed castle that Harry had called a home. Hermione cried during the entire journey toward her home, her life in tiny, forgotten pieces.

But her tears were not like the ones of a phonix. They couldn't heal her losses, and it felt like nothing ever could. Not a million years, not all the good fortune in the world, not even a Resurrection Stone would ever cheer her up.

When she got home, it was as if she was out of tears. Hermione sat on her bed, alone, no motivation to solve a problem that threatened her life, no Death Eaters to avoid, no horcruxes to find...

And soon after that, the nightmares. First, she saw herself in the Lovegood household, but it was burning down, her body catching on fire. And no magic could ever fix the damage done to her. Next, she was stuck in a room with the man who wanted to eat her, she kept having to dodge his vicious lunges at her.

Her most recent nightmare, her worst one, was different. She was standing next to an old, damaged ledge at Hogwarts. She hid behind a pillar as she saw Harry Potter and Voldemort facing off, both holding curses against each other. Hermione shuddered with fear as she realized Voldemort was holding the Killing Curse. It seemed Harry was holding the Disarming spell.

But suddenly, Harry Potter had disappeared, almost as if he had Disapparated, even though no one knew better than Hermione that no one could Disapparate on the grounds of Hogwarts. However, she found herself standing in his place, holding Disarming spell Harry had summoned.

She was standing where Harry Potter was just standing, holding the spell and Voldemort's cold, unwelcoming stare. After a few seconds, however, the Disarming spell started to die, and the Killing Curse getting stronger.

And the second it hit her, she woke with a start. And tonight was the third consecutive night she had that nightmare.

She didn't understand why she was having these nightmares. Did they mean something? Were they trying to highlight the current weak state she was in? Were they trying to show her how weak a person she was?

Then the idea hit her like a broomstick in the face: what if she asked someone about it? Being muggle-born, her parents probably couldn't help her her much. But Harry, practically an encyclopedia of nightmares and bad experiences, was someone she could ask.

She felt stupid, as she had not thought of this before, then again, ever since she left Hogwarts, she found her speed of thinking was decreasing, but she planned to go back for her N.E.W.T.S. How was she supposed to do her N.E.W.T.S. if her brain was in such a dumb state?

Deciding not to think about that, she took miliseconds to move from under the covers of her bed to the desk in her room. She whipped our a quill and a bottle of at the speed of light and began to write, the words quickly forming into her head:

Dear Harry,

Wherever you may be, I know it has only been a short time since we parted. I can understand that everything is still hard on you, and trust me, it's been beating me down, too, but I really need your help. It's not terrible urgent, so don't go hijacking a broomstick ot come and rescue me from something. But I do hope that we can meet as soon as possible, and bring Ron and something from Honeydukes while you're at it.

Yours truly,

Hermione

She quickly handed her letter over to her new owl, Hedwig, whom she named after the beautiful, strong, snowy owl that died about a year ago. Hedwig quickly took off and flew away into the calm, peaceful night.

After finally telling someone about her problem she was facing, the tranquility from outside oozed into her brain and she fell back her bed and drifted into a peaceful, nightmare-less sleep.