Hermione awoke the next morning with the sun's light blinding her. For several long seconds, only white light filled her eyes.
'Blinds'. She thought. 'We need to get some blinds.'
She swung her legs out of bed and turned to glance at Harry's side of the bed. It was empty. She listened, and heard the shower running softly.
Hermione fished around in her closet and found a pair of slippers and a robe to slip over her light pajamas. She took the time to straighten up her side of the bed, and then headed downstairs.
The house was pretty in the morning light. Pretty streams of brightness filtered in through the tan blinds and dusted the beige stone work that had been done on one side of the fireplace. The other side was a bookcase that had been built into the wall. As previously stated, there was large, squashy brown upholstery surrounding the fireplace before the living room opened up to the kitchen. The kitchen had brown tiled flooring and granite countertops. Hermione set about brewing some coffee for herself and flicked her wand so that a stack of pancakes would begin to make themselves. Two suitcases, one made of black leather and one made of blue, sat beside the staircase along with their plane passes. Dobby must have set them out for their flight at eleven today.
The first of the pancakes had just come off the griddle when Harry finally made his way downstairs. Hermione squared her shoulders and set her forearms on the table. "Good morning." She said calmly.
"Mornin'." He sighed, and stood behind one of the tall seats at the bar.
"Did you sleep well?" She asked, putting extra emphasis on the word 'sleep'.
He didn't react at all, which somehow was worse than if he had. "Yeah, actually. Strange. How about you?"
"As well as one might expect." Hermione flicked her wand at the griddle and the pancakes flipped themselves and some spun off onto a plate. The enchanted bowl of mix was quick to refill the empty spots on the griddle.
"Listen." Harry said as she got down two plates.
"Speak." She rolled her eyes. He grunted.
"You and I, we don't know each other that well, and I… well…" He rubbed the back of his neck.
"Spit it out." Hermione said as she put a plate down in front of his stool. He picked it up automatically.
"I don't feel comfortable sleeping with a girl I don't know all that well. So I was thinking, if, for the time being, we could just stay in separate rooms?" Harry asked, rotating the plate by it's edge.
Hermione turned back towards the griddle so her couldn't see the pain his words had on her. She flicked her wand at the packcakes. One came off a little black. She swallowed, and replied: "I think that would be for the best." Her voice cracked a little.
Harry, for his part, only nodded and took a few pancakes. She watched his reflection in the stainless steel stove, then finally turned back around and began her own breakfast.
They were unhappy honeymooners at a private beach house in Portugal. It was all one-storied, with a small wrap-around porch. It opened up into a living room with an attached kitchen. A doorway led into a hallway that split the house in half from the front. A bathroom then separated two bedrooms on either wall of the house. Hermione got the one closer to the living room.
Harry went out to collect some shells and sand dollars in a gallon-sized ziplock baggie. Hermione wasn't sure if that wasn't just an excuse to keep away from her. They hadn't said a word to each other since their impromptu conversation that morning aside from Harry briefly asking her if she had the boarding passes.
Hermione took the time Harry was outside to write to her mother. She very clearly skated around the idea that she and Harry now had separate rooms. Part of her job as Harry Potter's wife was not only to keep the public's opinion of him good, but also her parent's opinion of him. Hermione might not have been the best socializer, but she was very good at getting a job done.
Harry and she finally talked again later that night to plan what they were going to do while they were here. There were many hikes in the area, beautiful lakes and cliffs to visit, the works. They started a puzzle of a field of flowers together before Hermione retired at ten o'clock. Harry said he'd be right behind her, but she didn't hear him walk past before she fell fast asleep.
Hermione woke up to darkness.
For a few seconds, she wasn't even sure why she had woken. She turned on her side and was about to snuggle back into her covers when a crash came from the kitchen.
She pushed herself up and as she did, she heard a grunt and the sound of breaking glass.
Hermione picked her wand up off the bedside table and swung her legs off her bed. Her feet landed silently on the bare wood floor and she stowed quickly to the door. Before opening it, she cast a quick silencing charm on the hinges to make sure they wouldn't squeak as she opened it.
Out the hallway, through the living room, and toward the kitchen she stowed. She hesitated and listened for a second before she entered.
There was a shuffle, the movement of glass, and then a voice. "Shoot." She put a hand on the wall and pivoted around it.
A head of black hair was crouched over a makeshift pile of glass and muttering to himself. "Harry?" She asked.
Harry jumped up and stared at her with wide eyes. For five full seconds there was nothing but silence and wide eyes staring down each other.
Then: "Hermione… sorry. I forgot you were here."
She felt the sting of anger twist her gut and felt irrational hurt at his statement. Clearly, he'd seen something on her face because he quickly tried to fix whatever he'd done. "Umm, erm, I mean- I meant… umm." He trailed off awkwardly.
Hermione took a deep breath and forced herself to be calm. "It's-It's fine." She glanced at the pile of glass. "What were you doing?"
Harry's face turned bright red, even in the dark. "Um." He started. "I was just… up."
She squinted and observed the dark shadows on his face. "Bad dream?" She guessed. His face took on a closed up, quiet demeanor, and she knew she was right. "Let me make you some tea. That's what my mom always did for me."
He blinked in slow surprise at her offer. She swallowed. "I think the kettle is in the cupboard over there." She pointed at the cabinet beside his legs. He moved out of the way, and she bent down to open the cabinet. As she thought, a gleaming kettle was inside. She filled it with water and set it to boil.
"Harry, where's your wand?" She asked as she flicked her wand at the glass on the floor. It rematerialized into a drinking glass, which she rinsed off and set back up in the cupboard.
"Above the fireplace." He muttered. Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"That's an odd place to put it." She commented.
Harry laughed dryly. Hermione pulled down two ceramic mugs and two tea bags to set in those mugs. Then she walked to the circular dining table and pulled a chair out for Harry to come and sit down. He did after staring at her for a few moments.
"So, mind telling me why your wand is above the fireplace?" Hermione asked. He ran his hands through his hair, and heaved a great sigh.
"I- I used to practice spells in my sleep. Back during the war, when I was on the run from Voldemort, I got so paranoid I would lash out in my sleep and curse whatever I got near to. Of course, those habits aren't good for normal-functioning-members-of-society, so I keep my wand away from me in case I curse someone or break something in my sleep."
Hermione thought on his answer for a while. "That's pretty impressive that you can do that it your sleep." She told him. He shrugged.
"Thanks I guess." He muttered. Then he sighed. "I didn't mean to wake you."
Hermione waved him off. "No problem." The kettle began to hiss. She stood up before Harry could and walked over to remove the screaming metal from the hotplate. The hot water went into their waiting mugs, which Hermione then carried over to the table. She handed Harry his, and then found two drink sliders for them to set their drinks on as they steeped.
"So," Hermione began, blowing on her tea. She conjured a spoon and charmed it to stir her tea for her, then charmed a second one into existence for Harry. "What's been keeping you up?" She handed the spoon to him.
He shook his head. "I don't want to burden you. Truly." He picked up his mug and blew the steam off the surface. "Tell me something Hermione."
"Something?" She asked. He nodded.
"Something happy, or small or simple. Something that doesn't need to be anazlyed or decoded. I need to be brought back down to earth."
Hermione took her first sip of her drink and watched Harry as he stared despairingly into his tea. The corner of her mouth crooked up until she saw the edges of his infamous scar. Her gaze dropped then, and her hands felt very dry.
"Once upon a time," She began and watched as the tension melted from his shoulders. What wonders a children's cliché could have? "Once upon a time a squirrel met a chipmunk, and they liked each other very much. They became best friends, and when winter came, they stored up lots of food together to fend off the cold weather. They were a good team, and liked to work together. However, the rest of the squirrels didn't like the chipmunks, and the rest of the chipmucks didn't like the squirrels. So the two friends were outcasts because they were friends with the enemy. The chipmunk had it very bad because all the other chipmunks would throw stones at him when he went through chipmunk territory.
"One day the king of the squirrels went looking for the squirrel. As he stood on the doorstep of the Chipmunk and the Squirrel, a very large hawk flew nearby. The king was knocked off his balance and almost fell to his death, but at the last second the chipmunk opened the door and pulled in inside, saving him from falling.
"The king was very grateful to the chipmunk and proclaimed to all the other squirrels what the chipmunk had done. He was very proud. The squirrels decided to extend a hand of friendship to the chipmunks so they could all work together. At first, the chipmunks were surprised, but after that they agreed. And that is the story of how a friendship stopped one nation's hate against another." Hermione finished. She looked at Harry for his approval. He smiled, leaned back in his chair, and drank his tea.
"Thank you Hermione." He said when he was halfway through his drink. "No one has ever done this for me before."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow. "Didn't your Aunt ever tell you stories as a kid?"
"Actually, no. She and my uncle… they didn't like me very much." Harry admitted. "I don't have very many happy memories from my childhood."
"They didn't take you to the zoo, or rollerblading?" Hermione prompted with a frown.
Harry shook his head. "No. Dudley got to go to the zoo for his birthday a couple times. And he had rollerblades but I think he broke them after a week. Once my babysitter broke her leg the day of Dudley's birthday, and they were forced to take me with them…" Harry smiled for a few seconds in the dark to himself. "That was when I made the glass vanish in front of the python. I set it free and it thanked me and snapped at Dudley's heels as it went out."
Hermione almost dropped her mug in surprise. "You can talk to snakes?" She asked.
Harry shook himself out of his jolt. "Not anymore." He replied. "I lost the ability after I defeated Voldemort."
"Oh." Hermione said, visibly shaken. "How old were you?"
"Ten. I was a few weeks away from turning eleven."
"That's an incredible bout of accidental magic."
"Yeah. It was. Did you ever do anything like that?"
Hermione laughed. "I'm afraid my own accidental magics were more selfish and bookwormish. I used to summon books from high shelves and I would use magic to help me steal cookies from mum's jar."
She and Harry laughed together at the thought of tiny Hermione sending books to and fro around the house. She took a sip of her tea, then set a hand on the table. She drummed her fingers on the table.
"So, what woke you?" She asked. Harry rolled his shoulders and sank back into the chair.
"Nightmares. Meaningless, twisted nightmares." He closed his eyes. "I'm fine now. I'll go back to sleep soon. Thank you for the tea. I'm sorry for waking you."
Hermione sensed this was goodbye for tonight. She swallowed the rest of her tea and stood up. She put her glass upside-down in the sink with intentions to put it in the dishwasher in the morning. "Well, goodnight then Harry. Call me if you need anything."
A strange sort of comfort enveloped her as she walked back downstairs and tucked herself back into bed.
They hiked around the island the next day, as friends-who-happened-to-be-married. It was nice. They lit a fire out of driftwood on the beach that night and discussed the cause of the multi-colored flames as they toasted marshmellows. Hermione passed out once outside, and then Harry woke her up so she could drag herself inside as the warm coals were crumbling into the sand.
She was having a pleasant dream about nothing in particular. There were books and tea, and she could hear laughter and pleasant chatting in the background. Then there was the distinct sound of the kitchen chair scraping against the wood, and her eyes opened. She heard someone set down something heavy on the stove.
Hermione rolled up and glanced at the clock. It was almost two a.m. Was Harry up again?
She slipped a robe on and stifled a yawn as she walked out into the living area. Harry was standing behind the counter with a large mug, staring at her in embarrassment. A kettle sat on the stove. She stood on the threshold to the kitchen and examined him. Dark bags had gathered under his eyes, but those would be gone by morning. His eyes held a wild, frightened look, and his jaw was hard set. She examined the slope of his shoulders and realized what she was staring at: a solider.
"Another nightmare?" She asked, and then pressed the back of her hand against her mouth.
He swallowed. "Yeah. Sorry I woke you."
She waved her fingers at him. "It's fine. Is there enough water in the kettle for two people to have tea together?"
"Um, yeah. I wasn't expecting you, by the way. I just have a habit of overfilling the kettle. I really didn't mean to wake you." He bumbled over his words and finally shut his mouth and took a deep breath.
"I'll just go back to my dream in a few minutes. While I'm up, do you want to share what woke you?" Hermione pulled out a bar stool and sat down. She put her head on her hands as he carefully avoided her eyes.
"No thanks. Do you want to share yours?" He asked.
Hermione shrugged. "It wasn't anything, really. I was sitting in a sqishy chair, reading a stack of books, drinking tea and there was sunlight keeping me warm. And people were laughing and chatting around me." Hermione smiled. The kettle began to scream. Harry poured her a mug and then handed her a tea bag. "Thank you." She said, and then waited until he'd prepared his drink and sat down next to her.
Hermione held her mug with both hands and took a deep breath of the sweet-smelling liquid as it began to steep. "So." She said to her counterpart. "You don't want to talk about your dream, but I do want to ask: does this happen often?"
Harry twisted the mug in his hands. "Every night for a long time now." He sighed. "It's usually around 1:30. You can just ignore me when I get up."
Hermione blinked. Now, to be honest, she was no people reader, but she could have sworn there was the faintest forlorn attitude as he'd told her she could ignore him. She nawed on her lower lip, then turned her body towards him. "No, I can get up. If only to make sure you're okay."
"I'm fine." He reassured her.
She snorted and pulled a hair off of his sweater. "Sure you are." She agreed. He chuckled.
Hermione finished her tea and set her mug in the sink. Then, she sat back down until Harry had finished his drink. She took his mug and walked with him in silence down to his room. They exchanged goodnights at his door, and then she went back down the hall to her room.
Before she went to bed, a thought struck her. She rummaged around in the nightstand and found a pad of paper and two standard hotel pens. This she wrote:
"Harry has reoccurring nightmares. He says he's had them for a long time and can't remember when they started – though I expect that is a lie. Having someone nearby seems to calm him down – I'm going to try and be there before he wakes up tomorrow. We'll call it an experiment. -Hermione Granger' She dated the paper and set it in the front, unused pocket of her suitcase. She then shut the light off and passed out.
Day three. They went snorkeling. Neither Hermione nor Harry liked that, so she doubted it would ever happen again. They also went for a boat ride. Hermione didn't like that either, but Harry did. She predicted that, unfortunately, would happen again.
At one, her alarm went off. She caught it on the first beep and listened for half-a-second to make sure Harry hadn't woken up with it. Hermione then crept out of her room and into the kitchen, where she refilled the kettle and set it on the stove. She pulled down two mugs and after about ten minutes separated the water into the two. Then, she added two tea bags and crept back through the hallway to Harry's room. She listened, and heard the covers moving.
"Harry?" She said aloud, knowing the house was silent enough he'd hear her if he was awake. There was no answer, and he kept moving. She set the mugs on the floor and turned the knob. The room was pitch black and Hermione could see Harry writhing atop his bed. The sheets had balled him up into a cocoon. She hurried to the lamp and flicked it on.
"Harry!" She called. "Harry, it's me. Wake up. It's not real." She hurried to his side and ran a quick hand down his arm, which was one of the only body parts readily accessible to her. He stilled, and she heard him gasping.
"What?" He gasped. She watched as he pushed covers aside until his messy head finally appeared out of the covers.
"It was a nightmare, of course." She told him.
"Oh." He said flatly. He continued to try and disentangle himself. Hermione waited patiently.
"Did I wake you again?" He asked.
"No, I woke myself. Also, I made tea?" She offered. He paused at her words, then turned his attention to her looking thoroughly confused. Hermione got up, well aware suddenly that she'd woken a grown war hero who'd been in a state of panic and that it was a wonder he hadn't lashed out at her, and picked up the two mugs at the door. When she turned back around Harry's feet were on the floor.
He looked shocked when she handed him his mug. "Wow. Thank you."
"No problem. I figured since you said you're usually up at one-thirty, I can get up at one and have tea ready by the time you get up." Hermione sat on the bed next to him.
He stared at her, then turned his attention to his drink. "Thank you." He said, sounding genuinely touched. "No one's ever done this for me. I can't think of a single person who'd even be willing."
"It's not a problem at all." Hermione assured him, feeling slightly taken aback by his reaction. "Back in my elementary days, I'd wake up every night crying because people bullied me. My mom used to do this with me." She took a sip.
"How did you get over that?" Harry asked.
Hermione hummed as she racked her brain. "I think it went away sometime in my teens, after I went to Hogwarts. I had friends like the Longbottoms, and Ginny Weasley, so gradually I forgot about the kids I'd left behind."
A tickle of a psychology lesson she'd once had appeared in the back of her mind. She turned her body towards him, leaned forward, and met his eyes. He didn't react much, but after a few seconds he spoke.
"I have nightmares about people I saw die."
It wasn't the awful, crashing truth she'd been expecting. She nodded amicably. Of course, he was a war hero. People had died. He'd seen people die. "That's awful." She sighed. "I wish I could help."
He stared off at the wall like he'd just seen his past behind it. She waited.
"I saw people wither away. And tortured. I heard it. I saw my godfather knocked backwards into a veil of death, I saw the only person who helped me all of third-year murdered without a second thought. I talked to dead spirits, my parents even. Kids I knew at Hogwarts; I saw their bodies." He took a shaky breath. Hermione straightened up.
"Well, then it's obvious why you're having nightmares." She responded. He looked at her.
"Really?" He asked with a furrowed brow.
"Of course. There's obviously Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder involved. You probably severed connections and lost people you cared about. And now you're so famous, it must be hard to connect with people. That means you're alone a great deal of the time, so you don't have anyone to connect with and heal from this great trauma." Hermione reasoned. Harry nodded along to her words, but stayed quiet.
Since Hermione had nothing to say and Harry had nothing to add, they sat in silence until they'd both set their mugs down. Then, Hermione stood up and left to put the mugs away. By the time she'd come back, Harry had ripped the sheets off his bed and was trying to reconstruct a place to rest in. Hermione helped him pull everything taunt and ignored how his hands shook when he breathed.
When she left it was almost three in the morning. She had a feeling they'd both be sleeping in the next morning.