Harry James Potter decided that it was a beautiful world he woke to. It was the past, a world where... where he was happy - content. She was there, her glorious brown mane resting on the pillow beside him as they stared at each other, and he was waking. He had fallen asleep, crying and throwing things around the dorm... everyone had evacuated from the fifth year boys dorms, to get out of his way. They had all failed to calm him down, until she had barged through, warded the door, silenced it.

And he had fallen, crying and sinking onto his bed and she had just held him, just held him to her to show him that someone cared. That she cared.

"You're awake," she murmured, a small smile touching her lips. Harry felt like shit, honest and simply. His eyes hurt, his throat hurt, and she... she didn't seem to notice. "It's not your fault." It didn't make him feel better, hearing her say it. It made him feel... the same, angry, but the same. "Sirius made his own decisions, and Bellatrix ... she did this, not you."

Harry's throat felt tight, and he wanted to tell her to stop talking, but all that came out was, "Hermione, I-" Then, his voice cracked and he squeezed his eyes shut, seeing Sirius falling into the veil. A hand on his cheek caused him to jump and open his eyes, seeing her own concerned gaze.

"I'm worried about you, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "We all are, but... I worry you're losing yourself in this... You can't do that. It won't make anything better-"

"What if he does it to someone else, to lure me out? What if he hurts you? Or... or Ron? Or Remus or... I can't be friends with anyone anymore, I can't date you - I can't let him know who I care for, because everyone I love dies and I don't want anyone dying because of me anymore-"

"Don't you dare think that just because you're a target means I will allow you to push everyone away, Harry James Potter," Hermione said sternly. "You deserve every friendship you've ever made, every relationship you've ever constructed... I don't care if you put me in danger. So what? I'm a Mudblood and I'll always be in danger as long as he's still out there. Who cares if I add a little fuel to the first? You can be friends with whoever you want, but I'm not going to give up on you just because you think it'll keep me safe - because it won't."

"I-" He started, but swallowed, shaking his head. His hand held her own, resting on his cheek, and then she was suddenly moving towards him, and kissed him. Hermione Granger bloody kissed him. It was all he could think about, his mind racing with what she was doing, but... he had some common sense at least. He knew it was a kiss.

And the kiss got deeper, until he was fairly certain the warmth under his hands was her skin, not the blankets, and the blood rushing south was very happy with what thoughts it put into his head. Bloody hell.

"We have to stop," Harry said, pulling away suddenly. Hermione frowned, confused, before she gave him a small smile. "It's... it's dangerous and... and I- God, I really like you, but... I don't know what to-"

"I do," Hermione said quietly. She swallowed as Harry hesitated. "I want to do this, Harry... if you want to, but... if you don't, that's okay-"

"Do you really have to ask if I don't want to do this?" Harry muttered. He took a deep breath, his mind racing, but Hermione used her hands to force him to look at her.

"I really like you, too, Harry," she said quietly.

And he kissed her, silencing her, and then his lips traveled south, to her collar bone, nipping it slightly on accident, but the breath that left her made him think that she enjoyed it. And the entire time, Harry didn't even think about his grief, or his worry. He was focused on her, and she on him. And not even the worst torture the Dursleys could deal to him would make him regret this moment, because this... this was perfect and untainted, and ... everything to him.

"I-I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry began, pulling away from her, biting his lip. "We shouldn't have done that... We shouldn't - the war... and- and Voldemort-"

"Harry," Hermione said firmly, making him pause. She gave him a gentle smile, laying back on the bed, completely satisfied, pulling the sheet closer to her. "I don't regret it for the world," she said softly. "Okay? I don't care about the war or Voldemort or any of that-"

Harry did though, and he couldn't put her in danger, but... "I don't regret it either," he admitted, biting his cheek as he sat down on the bed, pulling the sheets over his lap. "Merlin's beard, did I just sleep with my really hot girlfriend?"

Hermione snorted. "You're a dork," she teased. And suddenly she was gone. The bed was gone, and the Gryffindor Common Room, and the entirety of the castle was gone. And then all the pain came back in a breath, a groan, from him.

Harry was floating in a jagged sea of rocks. He could feel each rock digging into his side, tormenting his injuries, making him hurt. He remembered a time when he didn't hurt, when the pain was just that of loss, and his injuries were just metaphorical. Now... now he was always in pain, always broken, always feeling loss.

The floating caused Harry to suddenly bump into the rocks and a gasp of pain left him. He wondered if in the real world he was making noise. He knew he was unconscious. The pain he felt was ... oh, it was maddening. It impossible not to make a sound outside of his body.

There were voices, he could begin to hear them now, and he wondered if it meant he was waking up. Merlin, he prayed not. If Vernon found him, if he didn't get back to the cupboard... it would be hell to pay.

"Mum, in my trunk, there's a beaded bag!" the female voice was shouting. A trunk? Oh, thank Merlin. Someone was there. Maybe he was at the Burrow? Maybe they came to pick him up early, for the Burrow... But he doubted it. It didn't sound like Ginny. It didn't sound like any Weasley. He didn't know where else he could have landed that was wizarding. Everywhere else he knew was Muggle. And the Order always notified the Dursleys a few days before they arrived - it was enough to get Harry to healing. "There's a bottle labeled Essence of Dittany. Give it to me!" Hands were grasping his face, and a groan left him. Merlin, his face hurt too.

The palms were warm and felt very familiar. Did he know her? "Harry?" she asked softly, and Harry wanted to answer, to ask, but he couldn't. He couldn't feel his tongue, he couldn't feel his mouth. But his jaw he could feel. Every last millimeter along the jaw he could feel, and her hot hands that were grasping it almost too tightly. "Harry, can you hear me?" He could. He could hear her. "It's Hermione, Harry. I'm here. You're safe-" Hermione. Her name was like a warm, fuzzy blanket that comforted him. Hermione. His Hermione.

He was moved, turned in a direction, and then suddenly his whole body no longer felt like he was floating, but instead like a skyscraper had fallen atop him and he was being crushed. Every scrap of clothing still on his body, which wasn't much, hurt to wear. Wounds were rubbing, bones were being suffocated, but he was freezing. So cold. So cold, that her hands seemed like fire. He whimpered, unable to see anything, to find out where they were. Maybe it was the Burrow? He could remember what had made him think of the Burrow in the first place.

"You're safe," Hermione repeated soothingly. "No one can hurt you anymore." Her hand went through his hair, and the fire traveled along his scalp, despite the sounds of crunching, from dried blood. He could picture the showers he would take before he'd get on the train - how the water would run red for longer than the shower was allowed to run. It took nearly four showers for it all to be washed out. "Harry? Please..." She sounded so close to crying. He didn't want her to cry. She couldn't cry. She couldn't cry for him. "Please, can you hear me?"

Her hands went to his neck, shaking before they were firmly upon it. He knew there were bruises there, but he didn't know how badly they were. He could only take a guess. He hoped she felt his pulse, but he also knew Hermione. She wouldn't have given up, even if she felt nothing. "Oh, thank God," she whispered. Suddenly her hands left him and he felt like the anchor holding him to the room was being lifted. He was drifting away, back in the sea of rocks... It was comforting, at least. It was normal. At least it was one dream... one dream that didn't end up with death, or blood.

But like the devil tempting Eve, her hands were back, one at least, caressing his jaw. It had to have been light, but it hurt unbearably. And he gave in to her presence. He stayed and he listened to her, doing whatever and saying whatever. Hermione... She was Hermione, and she wanted him to stay with her. She was saying it firmly, but he could hear the fear in her voice, the pain of seeing him like this. "This is going to sting, but it'll feel better afterward," Hermione promised. Harry heard the clinking of a few vials as they were set on the floor. As long as it felt better after, Harry doubted he cared how it felt at that moment. "Ready?" she asked, as though she wanted some response, but Harry still couldn't feel his mouth. Had Vernon done something to it? Something when Harry had passed out? He didn't know... He prayed not.

He was on his back, and his chest was exposed... He could feel the cool air on his skin, and as the vial's contents dripped out of the dropper, there was a burning sting on his skin. The wounds... the ones that Harry couldn't figure out if they were from Vernon's belt or the man's interest in hot objects, were healing. He recognized the sensation from his many trips to Madame Pomfrey. Harry wasn't too worried what she saw, though. She had seen wounds on his torso before, on his arms, on his legs. She had even asked about them, the last time they were visible, but he had been evasive, dropped the question as though it was nothing and changed the topic.

"I'm sorry," she kept repeating, like she had been the ones to put the wounds there. Harry wished she would stop. It wasn't her fault. It couldn't have been even if she tried to make it hers. Then he was being moved again, flipped over. A whiney whimper left him as he was forced to uncurl his broken arm, and it was stretched out beside him. He wanted her to heal his back, next. Merlin, he wished he could have screamed, but he couldn't.

"Is there anything I can do?" a voice, one Harry knew he wouldn't recognize, asked. The woman seemed very much in fear of ... well, of something. Maybe Harry was dying?

"Get Dad," Hermione said firmly. Her voice was above him, and he felt protected. He wanted to drift off, to sleep, and maybe when he woke up, he'd be better, but he couldn't. The pain of the healing process made him alert. "He needs to set Harry's arm. There's a potion in my bag, when you get back, labeled Skele-Gro. I need that. I can heal the rest while you're gone."

Heels clipped along the wooden floor and once the burning on his back seized, Hermione's hands were coated in a liquid, and it was rubbing along his arms gently, his shoulders, and then his exposed legs. The way his face pressed against the floor was uncomfortable, but he angled his head so that his forehead had most of his weight, and his jaw... it wouldn't hurt as much.

Hermione's fingers gently touched his forehead then, healing some wounds that seemed to be on it. And then his cheeks, to the stubble that hadn't been shaved in ... well, weeks. He probably looked like a lumberjack. Or some mountain man that had the burly beard. "Harry," her voice was coming from a spot right next to his face. "I need you to wake up, please. I need you to wake up and tell me what hurts. I need to know how much to give you."

"Mia?" a small voice questioned, almost afraid of what she saw. A little girl? Hermione didn't have a sister, did she? Merlin, Harry had to have looked frightening.

"Emma!" Hermione gasped. Hermione left him, rising as he heard her feet just by his head. He flinched, unable to help it. "Get to your room-"

"I want to help-"

"No, you need to-"

"I want to help!" the little girl cried. She was just as strong willed as Hermione, Harry thought with a form of amusement. Hermione seemed to be having a difficulty in deciding, but she seemed to agree.

"Go to a kitchen and get a large bowl - you know those plastic ones mum makes potatoes in? Bring that up here and fill it with water in my bathroom, okay?" Hermione knelt once more by Harry, and the Dittany was soaking into his hair, his skin. "Then grab a towel folded up. Once you do that, go straight to your room and don't leave until mum or dad say so."

Emma's footsteps trailed away and Harry heard more approaching. Two pairs, one heavier than the other. It had to have been Hermione's parents. He was in her home... He didn't even know where their home was, so he didn't understand how he got there.

A firm hand grasped Harry's broken arm and he groaned, surprised. But a response seemed to be good, to the man. "Fracture," Mr. Granger said after a moment.

"Can you set it?" Hermione questioned. "I have to get the Skele-Gro in his system, before he has too much internal damage."

"What else is broken?" Hermione's mother asked. Hermione exhaled, almost as though she was having difficulty remembering.

"Collarbone, his arm, his jaw is shattered..." Hermione ran her fingers through Harry's hair once more, and it was soothing. Harry found his body relaxing. "A few ribs, especially those near his lungs..." Really? Harry had thought just a few near the bottom, not those up top. "His leg, but it's an old wound, I think... Not too bad, either. It'll be fine if I heal it soon. That's all I know of."

"He's still awake," Mr. Granger warned. "This will hurt incredibly."

Hermione was near Harry's face again, talking to him. He could sense her fear. He could almost feel her worry. "Harry, as soon as he fixes your arm, you need to drink this, okay? And then you can go to sleep, I promise." Her voice wobbled, and she seemed ready to sob. No, she couldn't. "So we're going to put you back on your back and then you have to drink this, okay? It's going to hurt, but it'll be better... I promise, it'll be better." His eyes felt swollen shut, how was he supposed to open them? She was going to have him drink something, but he couldn't even see where it was. "Please... wake up-"

Her father didn't wait for him to be put on his back, instead Harry felt the blinding pain of his bone being put back into place, and his eyes opened wide, holding back the scream that threatened to consume him. When his back fell onto the wooden floor, the hands that were helping him over letting go in shock at his sudden alertness, another groan left him and he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing heavily. He was in his body once more, he was there. If he could control his breathing, maybe it wouldn't hurt as much. Maybe he could sleep. Hermione had promised he could sleep.

"Oh, thank Merlin," Hermione sobbed. Something cool pressed against Harry's lips. "Harry, you need to drink this quickly, okay?"

He opened his mouth and swallowed the vile potion, already feeling it working into his system, the bones already becoming stronger. Once the vial was gone, Harry breathed some more and then opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. It was a pinkish hue, one that couldn't have belonged anywhere else but a girl's room.

"It's okay," Hermione whispered. His eyes darted to her quickly and he relaxed, seeing her familiar brown eyes and bushy hair, even more frazzled with the events of just the last ten minutes. Or had it been more? "It's Hermione," Hermione said gently, like he had forgotten who she was. He could never have. He breathed fast, still, but his muscles were slowly untensing and he just wanted to sleep. She promised he could. "You're at my house," she continued, her fingers caressing his face once more. "The pain will stop, I promise. You can sleep once my father checks you over, okay? Just real quick, and then you can sleep." She smiled through the tears in her eyes and he wanted to reach for them, to brush them away. He didn't blink, staring at her as he breathed. "You'll be okay. Don't try to talk, you have a broken jaw, just... just stay still."

Another vial was pressed to his lips and he drank it, despite the pain it caused. It was a calming draught, Harry figured... or a sleeping draught. He felt the pain begin to evaporate from his system and the rough handed man began to paw at Harry. Hermione's father. He had to keep repeating the two words in his head so he wouldn't tense up. It was just Hermione's father, making sure he wasn't hurt anywhere else.

"That's all the injury I see," Mr. Granger spoke to his daughter. "He needs a bath-"

"Emma's bringing a bowl of water and a towel," Hermione interrupted. "I don't want him to walk yet-"

"He just needs a good rest... Once his bones start to heal-"

"It's not real," Harry whispered. His eyes were still on Hermione, who had looked away to look at her father. Her face was instantly watching his once more. "You're not really here." The pain was leaving him... it's what it was, right? He was... slipping away, crossing the veil? "I'm dead," he whispered. "Dying... They've killed me this time, haven't they?" Hermione seemed unbearably saddened by his words. "You're the angel... the one to take me away-"

Hermione shook her head, clutching the hand of his arm that wasn't broken. It hurt, but it kept him attached to her. "No, Harry... I'm real, I'm here... We're going to make you better... You're okay. You just need rest. You're not dying. I wouldn't let-"

"Kill me," he breathed. His voice broke and he squeezed her hand tightly, bones beginning to ache from the inside. It was unbearable. And the burning. It was inside, too. Like the Cruciatus. "Kill me, please," Harry begged. "Kill me already..." He couldn't ... he couldn't deal with this anymore. He couldn't live with this kind of pain... it was too much.

"Shhh," Hermione whispered. Her face was close to his now, and he could see the tears that were building in her eyes. "I'm not going to kill you... Go to sleep, okay? Just go to sleep."

He let out a few harsh breaths, waiting for the vision of her to turn into Vernon... for her beautiful appearance to turn into the devil, into the man that would kill him. He wanted her to be real, he wanted her to be real so badly... but she wasn't. She wasn't real, no matter how hard he wanted it to be. If it wasn't a dream, then it was a hallucination... He was still at the Dursley's... and Vernon was standing before him, waiting for Harry to beg for death. And Harry had. Vernon would do it, Harry knew he would. The only ones that would suspect Vernon? Petunia and Dudley... They were the only ones that knew.

If he closed his eyes, he wouldn't have to see it coming... He wouldn't have to see the final blow. By the time his eyes shut, the pain was numb and he felt no more.