AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Second chapter ahoy! I'd like to let the readers know that I'm going to take a little break from posting anything for a week or so. I NEED SLEEP! So I'm going to write a little at time instead of staying up until 5 AM to finish a chapter...

PLEASE REVIEW. I'd be ever so grateful. Enjoy!

Chapter 2:

Hours later, Harry emerged from Hermione's room. He'd finally managed to calm her down, and she was currently sleeping. First he let her sob herself out, and when she was steadily rocking on her bed and sniffling, he eased her down to rest. At first she protested by whining and gasping, but eventually she gave up. Harry stroked her hair to calm her again, watching as she succumbed into slumber.

Exhausted, Harry dropped down into the desk chair. He was loath to leave her now, afraid she might wake up and not know where she was. Harry could only imagine the havoc that would ensue if that were the case. An hour later, after he heard her softly snoring, he quietly rose from the chair and left the room. Maybe she just needed a little alone time. Harry wasn't sure. He could empathize with her, definitely. This was a new experience for the both of them.

Remembering he'd not taken that cup of tea that Ron prepared, Harry tiptoed down the hall. As he made his way down the staircase, Ron was peeking his head out into the foyer. When he saw Harry, he strode over. "She okay?"

Harry looked up solemnly and shrugged. "I dunno, mate. It's like she doesn't even know us anymore." He bit his lip and stared at his feet. "She also mentioned...something. She said someone took them, whatever 'them' happens to be. I dunno..." He said again and ran a weary hand through his hair.

Ron nodded sadly. "Are you sure you don't want that firewhiskey?" he said, trying to lighten the air.

"Actually," Harry said, heading off to the kitchen, "I wouldn't mind it. You want one? We could play a round of Exploding Snap afterwards, just for old times' sake."

Ron grimaced at first, as he'd grown quite tired of Exploding Snap over the years. But then he realized that Harry probably needed someone around to keep his mind off Hermione. "Make it a game of chess and you've got yourself deal." He grinned and followed after Harry.

Harry grinned as well, feeling like it was the first in ages. "Chess or Exploding Snap, I'll still pound your arse into the ground, Weasley."

The friends got two bottles of firewhiskey from the cupboards in the kitchen and pulled out Harry's chessboard. They played many rounds until the contents were gone from their bottles, and then Ron announced he should be getting home. Harry clapped his friend on the back before he Apparated with a faint 'pop!'. Sighing heavily, Harry sat back down and drained the last dregs at the bottom of his bottle.

To pass the time, he bewitched the pieces Ron had used to play for themselves and set to board up again. The first game went fine, but by the middle of the second the Rooks had decided their time was better spent elsewhere and stormed off the board. Harry tried to play around their absence, but once they started leading a revolt against the pieces that remained, their Queen grew restless and dragged the King and an unfortunate Knight off the board.

Shortly after this, Harry decided it was best to go check on Hermione. He stood (just in time, as one of the renegade Rooks had charged one of Harry's Pawns and they went flying into his chair) and made his way up to her room on the second floor. He tried to go about it quietly, so he could hear any potential thumping about in her room. So far, everything was clear. When he reached the door, he knocked gingerly. "Hermione?"

He opened the door when he heard no answer and saw she was sitting in the desk chair, staring at the ceiling. "Hermione? Are you hungry?"

She looked down from the ceiling and at Harry. "What?"

"I said, are you hungry? Madame Grake is just about prepare dinner. I told her to make something special tonight, just for you."

He smiled and entered the room slowly. Hermione drew her arms to her chest and held herself around the waist. She opened her mouth to speak and hesitated before doing so. "It's...it's Saturday...the house elves are off." Hermione stood and walked over to him. "Sandwiches. Right?"

Harry was thoroughly confused. "Is that what you want for dinner? A sandwich?"

Hermione gasped and shook her head furiously. "No! No no no no no! The soup! I should have known..."

She plopped down on the bed and ruffled through a desk drawer, frantically searching for something. Harry watched uneasily. "Um...why don't you just follow me downstairs and you can have whatever you want for dinner. Eh?"

He went to her side and offered a hand. "You must be hungry. Come along, 'Mione."

After a few minutes of coaxing, Harry convinced Hermione to abandon her search and come down for food. This was not an easy task. Hermione kept trying to stray away from him and run off, but luckily Harry blocked her each time. He got the strangest feeling that she still thought that she was still in St. Mungo's, and if this were the situation, he felt very sorry for the Healers on staff.

Madame Grake had prepared a lovely ham, with potatoes and spinach, along with various other delectable looking things. She began scooping portions out onto their plates, curtsied, and dismissed herself. Harry led Hermione into a exquisite dining room, with a dozens of candles illuminating the space and, the centerpiece of the whole area, the long dining table adorned with silver and china plates. Hermione was in awe of everything and shakily ran a finger along the edge of the table.

"Is this all to your liking, 'Mione? You'll love Madame Grake's ham, it's positively heavenly. C'mere." He sat her down next to his chair and pulled one of the plated in front of her. "Here we are. Eat up!"

Harry sat down himself and began gobbling up everything on his plate. In his haste, he didn't notice that Hermione hadn't even taken a single bite of food, she just poked and prodded at it. "He's poisoned it."

"Wha?" Harry managed through a mouthful of potatoes.

"He's poisoned it." Hermione repeated. "I think..." She ripped off a small piece of ham and tasted it. "Did it taste poisoned to you?"

Harry cocked an eyebrow and swallowed. "Poisoned? Who--No, Hermione, my servant made this food. It's okay."

Hermione turned to him, her lip quivering. "Voldemort. He's poisoned the food, hasn't he?" She shuddered and pushed the food away. "He thinks he's won...well...no."

"Hermione," Harry started, "This food is not poisoned. Watch." He cut of a good chunk of meat from her plate and popped it into his mouth. Hermione watched intently as he chewed and swallowed. They sat in silence for a few minutes, giving the food just enough time to ingest before Hermione's shoulders sunk. "See?" Harry said, pushing her plate back to her. "It's perfectly fine."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Suppose so." He tentatively prodded at the ham before scooping it into her mouth.

The two ate quietly. After dessert (Harry had to convince her the treacle tart was just as harmless as everything else), Harry led Hermione back upstairs to her room. He filled her in about everything that had happened since school ended; He'd purchased Potter Manor, Ron had been with a nice Muggle girl he met in London, and Ginny had gone into business with Luna making robes for cheap. Harry was unsure if any of this made sense to her, but it just felt nice to be talking, actually talking with Hermione again. Now, if only she'd talk back...

Once they arrived at her room, Harry pulled back the bed for her. In one of the desk drawers was a few articles of clothing which Harry had received from Mr. and Mrs. Granger when they learned Hermione would be staying with him. He pulled out a thin pajama shirt and the matching bottoms. "Here we are." He tossed them to Hermione. "It looks like you'll need a wardrobe...I'll have one delivered sometime this week. Okay?"

Hermione picked up the pajamas and looked them over. She smiled, indicating that she liked them very much. They were white, with bright pink stars lined in black. She looked up to Harry, giving him the first real Hermione smile he'd received in four years. "Thank you."

His heart melt. He smiled back and strode over to her, giving her a quick peck on the forehead. "You're welcome. Good night, and sleep well." Harry left the room and sighed. Today was definitely and exhausting day. He saw that the grandfather clock in the hall was about to strike 10 o'clock, an early night for him.

Instead of retiring to the master suite, Harry walked off to his private study. He sat down at this desk and pulled out a crisp sheet of parchment and dipped his quill in ink. Before he went to bed, he was going to send an owl to St. Mungo's regarding Hermione's behavior. He had to know if this was normal for her.

He wrote a lengthy letter, mainly addressing her outbursts of missing belongings and poisoned food by Voldemort, and strapped it Hedwig's legs before sending her off. He watched his owl until she was no more than a speck along the horizon, and then went off to bed. Hopefully things would be better tomorrow.

Well after midnight, unbeknownst to Harry and the other residents of the house, a cloaked figure stood outside the house, their eyes focused on a second floor window. The figure glided across the garden, and a bony hand produced a wand from inside the cloak. With a simple spell, the door was unlocked and the figure floated inside. It came to a stop about fifteen feet in the doorway and stood, walking the rest of the way to the grand staircase.

Once it reached the second floor, the figure began to slink down the hall, almost completely invisible against the dark. It came to it's destination and stopped, and again pulled out it's wand. It flicked the wand and door creaked open slowly. The figure bounced into the air and glided inside, stopping once it reached a bed. It leaned over the sleeping woman, it's bony hands reaching up to it's hood. Slowly, very slowly, the hands lowered the hood as the woman woke up.

Hermione, the woman in the bed, gasped haltingly as she met Lord Voldemort's snakelike eyes. Her body froze, except for a hand that searched frantically for her wand. Voldemort jabbed his own wand to Hermione's throat and she stopped moving completely. The corners of his mouth pulled into a grin, and he chuckled quietly.

"It's a pity our little game has to come to an end, dear little Mudblood," he hissed. Hermione shuddered as her breathing quickened. "Especially since we've been dying to see each other these long four years since you went to hospital. No matter, though. The papers will tell the world of how Harry Potter and his sick friend were murdered ... murdered by someone everyone thought they themselves killed. A bit like poetic justice, isn't it?"

Hermione was quiet, staring fearfully at her attacker.

"Not as talkative as before I see. Then I suppose you've chosen to die now rather than later. Wise choice...Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light flooded the room. Voldemort laughed evilly as Hermione screamed Harry's name.

Down the hall in the master bedroom, Harry heard a scream. He shot out of bed as he recognized it as Hermione's scream. Not even bothering to put on a dressing robe or his glasses, he grabbed his wand and shot out of the room and down to hers. Harry opened the door and rushed to Hermione, who was screaming his name at the top of lungs and writhing around painfully. Her eyes were closed and squinted, tears leaking from their corners. She emitted a sob and Harry sat next to her.

"Hermione, wake up!" He gently shook her shoulder. "'Mione, wake up, you're having a nightmare."

Hermione stopped screaming and slowly opened a watery eye and stared up at Harry. She sat up and touched his face. "Oh, Harry, he was in the room!" she cried. "He was standing over me and he said he was going to kill us!"

She threw her arms around him and wept. Harry carefully wrapped his own arms around her, soothingly rubbing her back. He didn't even have to ask who she meant; he knew at once it was Voldemort. He felt anger boiling inside of him, furious that even four years after his death, he still had power over his best friend.

"Shh, I'm here, and we're okay, Hermione. We're still alive and Voldemort's dead and gone. He can't hurt us anymore."

Hermione's body shook with sobs. "No, no, no! He was right here, I saw him! He tried to kill me, and he said he was coming for you too!"

Harry's grasp on her tightened. "It was a dream, sweetie. It wasn't real." He rubbed her back, trying to calm her down. "Listen, would it make you feel better if you slept in my room tonight?"

She sniffled. "Harry...you wouldn't let anything happen to me, would you?" She pulled away, her teary eyes connecting with his.

Shaking his head, Harry grinned to reassure her. "No, I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't."

"Yes. It'd make me feel better." She sniffled again and stood. Harry followed suit and took her hand, leading her out of the room and down the hall. The two of them entered the master bedroom and Harry guided her over to the bed. He sat her down and brought the covers around her as she stretched out, her tears finally subsiding. When she was tucked in, Harry slid in next to her and rubbed his eyes. Hermione quickly snuggled up to him, clinging to him for dear life, afraid he might be gone the next time she blinked. Harry chastely kissed her forehead and held her close, watching her until she fell asleep. It was a while before Harry himself fell asleep again. Before he nodded off into unconsciousness, he stared out his window, vowing to purge Voldemort's memory from Hermione's mind, no matter what the cost.