Chapter Eleven
Harry…
Harry was in the Forbidden Forest once more and someone was frantically calling out to her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew who the voice belonged to but was hesitant to find out for certain.
Harry…
This was too hard, too much. She didn't want to do this. Couldn't do this. She needed to leave. What the person was asking was impossible.
Harry…
She began to run but could make no sense of which direction she should go in. She wanted out.
Harry…
Suddenly Harry felt her foot snag against the root of a tree and the ground rose to meet her. She lifted her head slowly and peered around. Harry groaned, for she was in the very place she was trying to get away from.
The clearing was always the same. Dark, cold. Leaves scattered across the ground, drifting and gathering at the center where she knew she would find the thing she was trying to avoid.
Harry stood and walked to the center. She had no choice, she thought, as she began to claw at the dirt as she had done so many times before. She dug until her fingers, caked with soil, hit something hard. No matter how hard she tried to keep away from the forest she knew she would always be called back until she honored his request. And so, after taking a deep breath, Harry turned the stone one, two, three times.
"I've never taken you for a coward, Harry."
"I'm not a coward," muttered Harry looking up at Fred Weasley definitely.
Much like the clearing and the dream, Fred was always the same. Red hair, stupid grin, two ears, wearing the clothes he had died in. Ever persistent.
"No? Is that why I have to keep coming back here night after night? Begging you for the same thing."
"This is just a dream."
"Is it?"
"What you're asking is too hard."
"It isn't."
"I don't- I don't even know where the stone is anymore."
"You do. You have no trouble finding it every night."
"That's because this is just a dream!"
"It's not just a dream and you know it."
Harry bit her lip and looked away from him angrily.
"How do you know it's even going to help?" questioned Harry quitely. "What if…"
"What if what?"
"What if it just makes everything worse."
"I promise you it won't."
"You said everything was going to be okay. The first time you called to me, you told me so."
"And it will be. He just needs closure."
"Closure?"
Harry suddenly felt very weak and she sunk to the ground as her legs gave out from under her. She found it very hard to focus on Fred who had crouched down to peer at her with a concerned expression.
"You're waking up now," he said frowning. "Please consider what I'm asking."
"What if I don't remember again?"
"You will."
"Harry! Wake up!"
Harry's eyes shot open and it took her a moment to realize that she was been shaken by Hermione. She was sweating and out of breath as though she had been running. It took her a moment to catch her breath again and then the sudden crashing weight of why she had lost it in the first place came back to her.
The dream, the stone, the forest.
Fred.
She could see it all so vividly. Feel the coldness of the air, her feet felt as though they had been calloused by the thickness of the forest ground. Her hand felt the weight of the stone as though she had just been clutching it.
"Harry," said Hermione cautiously, "are you alright? You were tossing in your sleep and muttering to yourself."
Harry recognized that look in Hermione's eyes, but Harry had not seen it since Voldemort had last possessed her mind in her sleep.
"It's nothing like what you're thinking. I just had- a normal nightmare I suppose."
Hermione visibly relaxed.
"What was the dream about?"
"I don't remember," lied Harry. "What time is it?"
"It's just after 7:30 in the morning. Do you think you'll feel up to breakfast?"
"No. I have to meet Draco at nine. We are doing the last of our potions project before we have to turn it in and I haven't actually done my part of the essay," said Harry jumping up and pulling her school uniform on.
"Harry!"
"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm going to head to the library now to try to catch up. Just be thankful you don't have me as your partner, mum."
Hermione snorted and shook her head.
"I'll sneak you some toast or something later."
"You're the love of my life, Hermione."
"Make sure you tell George that during your next truth game."
Hermione took her leave, waving at Harry as she shut the door. Harry waited a good ten minutes or so before following her. She wanted the sick feeling in her stomach to go away, but she also didn't want Hermione to see that she was going to opposite direction of the library.
She needed to talk to someone about her dream.
And she doubted Hermione would approve of her choice.
"Enter!"
The voice of Sybill Trelawney floated dreamly through the door Harry had just rapped at. Just the sound of it set Harry on edge and she was tempted to turn right back around and actually go do her portion of the essay she had been slacking off on.
No, she thought to herself, you can't keep avoiding this.
Mustering some of her Gryffindor courage, Harry pushed the door open slowly. Harry had not stepped foot in the Divination classroom for some time but it looked just the same. The same round tables were crowded within, the lighting was very dim, and Harry thought the mixture of the heat and the smell of something like incense would suffocate her.
"Ahh, Miss Potter. Do come in. I saw that you would be coming by today."
"Then why didn't you open the door?" questioned Harry before she could stop herself.
"You were to make the choice to enter, and you have made the right one I see. Tell me, what brings you by today? Are you wishing to take the art of Divination next term?"
"No," said Harry far too quickly. "I wanted to talk to you actually about this...this dream I had. This dream I've been having I think."
Trelawney's features lit up at Harry's words and Harry wondered not for the first time if she had chosen the right person to come to.
"Sit down my dear," said Trelawney gesturing at the nearest table and Harry did as she was told. "What sort of dream have you been having? Has the grim returned to you? Have you seen your death once more?"
Harry restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Trelawney had not been wrong about predicting her death, but the old bat didn't need to know that. Harry quite enjoyed seeing her look disappointed at her existence whenever they crossed paths in the castle.
"No. It's nothing of that sort. I was wondering, Professor, if perhaps the dead can try to communicate with people through dreams? Or if, perhaps, it's just truly that. A dream I mean."
"There have been instances where an individual has received counsel from a person who has passed on through the state of dreaming, yes. May I ask what happens in this dream?"
"This person has been coming to me for some time now I think, but I've only just remembered it today. There have been times where I would almost recall it but today I woke up and it was so vivid. And this person- he has a request that he's adamant about but I am not sure I can fulfill it."
"If the person is coming to you, my dear, then you may be the only one who can do what he is asking for. His spirit may be unable to move on until you do so."
"But if that were the case, wouldn't he have just come back as a ghost? If he has unfinished business or is unable to move on fully?"
"Not always, no."
Harry bit her lip and peered down at her hands that were clasped tightly in her lap. She wasn't sure what she was hoping for by talking to Trelawney. Perhaps for her to tell Harry that she truly didn't have the sight and was simply dreaming. But Harry knew that she was overdue for something to go wrong this school year. She had been on borrowed time and it had finally caught up with her.
"But what if I'm not sure I can do what he's asking? I don't know where to find the- the thing he's asking me to find. And I'm almost afraid it could cause more harm to someone than good."
"You alone must make the choice to follow through on what the spirit is asking, my dear. But take warning that he may not fully move on until you do so."
"I just don't understand why he would come to me. I'm not the person he wants closure from."
"You have always had a special connection with death, Miss Potter. You may not be the one who he needs closure from, but you may be the one who can provide it."
"Some may say I'm the Master of Death," Harry said offhandedly.
"It will catch up with you one of these days, my dear."
The Dungeons were cold as Harry walked towards the Potions classroom. It reminded Harry of the forest in her dreams and she suddenly felt more sick than she had before. She hadn't had much time to ponder over her conversation with Trelawney for when she left the tower she was already late for her meeting with Draco. She was still unsure of what to do, and if she even could do anything.
"Finally, Potter. I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to do everything by myself," said Draco when Harry entered the classroom. He looked up from the cauldron where he had already started the preparations for the Amortentia and his eyes widened. "You look like hell."
"Thanks."
"I didn't mean it like that."
Harry plopped herself down in the chair next to where Draco was working and let her school bag hit the floor next to her. She was in no mood to be brewing a love potion today. What she really wanted was to retreat to her dorm and never come out again.
"It's just been a long night. I don't have my portion of the essay done yet. I'm sorry. You can yell at me if you want to, but I promise I will have it by tomorrow when we turn in our potion."
Draco peered down at Harry but didn't speak for a while. His eyes were softer than Harry had ever remembered seeing them and when he finally did speak there was the slightest tone of compassion in his voice.
"It's okay. I know you'll pull through. You always do."
"Thank you," Harry said looking up at him surprised. They held each other's gaze for a moment before Draco looked away. Harry was almost certain she saw the tinge of a blush across his cheeks but didn't think too much of it.
"Let's just focus on the potion right now. We need to make sure we get this absolutely right."
"Okay," said Harry standing. "Right, so let's get started shall we."
The pair worked together in companionable silence and Harry thought idly how insane this truly was. Before this year they had never been able to tolerate each other without some sort of shouting match or something exploding. But now they were able to work side by side and were taking silent cues from the other. She wished that Draco hadn't been such a berk (and perhaps that she hadn't been so prideful...but to a much lesser extent of course) and maybe they would have gotten along just fine. Maybe she wouldn't have been such rubbish at potions too if they had been able to work together like this in years past.
Harry was almost surprised when they were finished and the potion had the right pearl coloring and the steam was rising in spirals as it should. She didn't voice her surprise to Draco however afraid that his grace had expired.
"Well," said Harry pleased. The dream long forgotten for the time being. "It looks good, yeah?"
"It does. The real test is the smell though."
They both leaned in at the same time and inhaled. Some of the smells were familiar to Harry from the last time she had brewed the potion. There was the treacle tart, the wood from her broomstick. But there were other things that she couldn't quite place right away. Something sweet and yet almost deliciously bitter at the same time. Something that smelled strongly of rubber. And then something she was certain she had smelled perhaps at the Burrow before. Or that's what it reminded her of. It almost smelled like…
"George."
Harry was certain that Draco had not heard her for she had said his name so quietly and Draco was still hovering over the potion. His face was twisted in mad concentration.
"I don't smell anything. Did we mess it up?"
"You- you don't smell anything?"
"No, nothing. Do you?"
But Harry didn't respond. This was all too much. The dream, the potion, the realization of what it meant that Draco didn't smell anything. The realization that she was in love. The fumes from the potion were intoxicating and Harry was finding it very difficult to breathe.
"I- I have to go," she stuttered.
And she ran out the door leaving a very bewildered Draco Malfoy behind.
She had her own issues to deal with and didn't want to be around when Draco comprehended just why he thought he couldn't smell anything.
Harry ran back to her dorm as fast as her feet would carry her. She hoped that Hermione would be off with Ron somewhere so she could have some time alone to think. When she finally reached the 8th year dorms she skidded to a stop and clutched her side where a stitch had started to form. The portrait of Hamnet studied her curiously.
"Miss Potter. It seems you are always running to and from this place. Seems like it's finally caught up to you."
"Hamnet," said Harry her breath still labored. "Have you ever been in love?"
Harry was unsure what was going on with her today. She was talking to the strangest people about her issues. First Trelawney with her dream and now the portrait of Hamnet Shakespeare over the concept of being in love. Hamnet himself seemed shocked by her questioning but after a pause he spoke.
"Yes. When I attended Hogwarts I feel in love with a Slytherin girl."
"Weren't you in Hufflepuff, though?" asked Harry standing up straighter.
"What house you're in has nothing to do with who you choose to love."
"Do you think love is a choice then?"
"Yes and no."
"What do you mean?"
"I believe that we have no control over who we fall in love with, but we may choose to act on that love."
"And did you? Choose to act on it, I mean."
"Yes," said Hamnet shaking his head. His eyes glazed over and Harry had a feeling he was a few hundred years away. "I decided to act on it. You see, things were not always easy on me. My father, when he found out what I was, could not handle it and when I attended Hogwarts he falsely claimed that I had died. It was easier on him to think of me as dead than what I really was."
"A wizard, you mean?"
"Yes, but choosing to love Agatha. That was easy. And it made life bearable. Things are easier in life, you see, when you're able to go through it in pairs. Not everyone gets such a fate."
Harry wanted to protest. She wanted to say that people you love, people that she had loved, had only gotten hurt or killed. That wouldn't choosing not to act on that love actually be easier. If it meant keeping them safe? But she decided against arguing with a portrait.
"King Lear," she said instead and the portrait swung open allowing Harry to retreat to her room.
Much later, when the clock struck midnight, Harry remained within the safety of her dorm. Refusing to come out and refusing to deal with everything from impossible dreams, to the reasoning behind Draco's scentless potion, and to red headed boys with one ear that made her feel better than flying. All because she was scared.
Perhaps Fred was right afterall.
Perhaps she was a coward.
A/N: Everyone take a deep breath! It's going to be okay! I will go ahead and tell you right now there's not going to be a love triangle with Draco.
Next chapter- someone comes crashing through Harry's window and Ron finds out what's been going on.
Please don't forget to review!
