Author's Note: Today I'm updating all four of my WIPs because it's my birthday and I want to celebrate! Be sure to follow me for more stories or check out the Facebook group The Death Eater Express for updates! I hope you like this one.

Chapter Seven

The door to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place opened easily at Harry's touch. He didn't know why he always expected to step inside to a mess of dust and cobwebs. Those had all been cleaned out long ago after the end of the war. When he decided to make his godfather's childhood home his, Kreacher had never been more excited. Despite his advancing age, the house-elf was determined to make it comfortable for his new master whom he developed a great deal of respect for. It was impressive to Harry that despite not knowing he would be returning home that day, every surface was spotless and he could smell several of his favorite dishes wafting upstairs from the basement kitchen. Maybe Kreacher heard on the wizarding wireless that he would be coming home.

It was far too much house for one man and one elf, but he didn't have the heart to leave it. The only physical tie to his past and the family he lost, he couldn't bear to give it up. Nor could he deprive Kreacher of the only home he ever had. Perhaps when the aged house-elf finally passed away he could rethink his living arrangements. He knew too well how dangerous fixations on the unchangeable past could be.

A large stack of post waited for him in the tidy, refurbished library to his great annoyance. Far too reminiscent of the days following the war, he knew most of the letters would be filled with demands for his time and attention. There seemed to be a prevailing thought that because he was the 'hero' of the last war that he was nothing more than a public entity who had no need for privacy or a personal life. Nothing was off-limits when it came to him.

Was it too early for a drink? He hadn't indulged in that particular vice the entire time he was on the hunt. Once the last dementor was killed and his team was tucked safely away inside that hotel bar, he gave in to his cravings. Back at home he knew he would need to be careful. Sometimes, especially when he felt trapped inside his home because of all of the public attention, he knew he had far more in common with his late godfather than he should.

He collapsed into his favorite chair by the fireplace, pushing away his desire for a drink for the present. The details of his meeting with Kingsley replayed in his head. Just thinking about the ceremony the next day made him exhausted. Would it always feel like that? Experiencing near-solitude in the wilderness had been paradise. He could easily understand how someone became a recluse. Was it wrong that he could see the appeal? A big part of him still wished he'd given into his urge to run away when he was still in Greenland.

A glass of fire whiskey was in his hand before he could stop himself. So much for self-control. He could work on that later when his life was quiet again. Assuming it ever would be. Everything was going to change when he stepped outside the next day. He was the Dementor Destroyer. There would be a lot of expectations. Could he handle them?

He hoped all of the excitement would die down soon.

When the screaming began Hermione thought she was only dreaming. She'd refilled her stock of sleeping potions and made certain she drank one before bed. Another restless night would be too much to handle. She already felt as if she was hanging by a single frayed strand of sanity. Knowing she would see Harry the next day didn't improve matters.

The screaming sounded like it was coming from far away. Or that she was underwater. Why would she be dreaming at all? She took a dreamless sleep potion. Gradually the shouting grew louder as she became more aware of it. When she opened her eyes and the screaming didn't stop, she knew it wasn't a dream. Suddenly wide awake despite the sleeping potion, she listened.

Never, not even in the midst of a fierce battle when people were literally dying around her, had she heard such fear. Barty was terrified. Worried that he might have been attacked, Hermione grabbed her wand off of her side table next to the bed and ran. There were plenty of people who would want to kill him if they knew he was alive. Just like Hogwarts, rumors spread like Fiendfyre in the Ministry of Magic. She wouldn't have been surprised to discover everyone in the Ministry knew he was alive and living with her.

It was evident at first glance that the wizard was in the midst of a terrifying nightmare. She could only imagine what he was reliving. After researching the Dementor's Kiss, she wouldn't blame anyone who had ever been subjected to it to be incurably insane. It honestly said a lot about Barty that he didn't seem to be completely crazy.

Watching him scream in his sleep and thrash his arms and legs was just awful. Hermione didn't know how to help him. He seemed so helpless and scared. Would it be more traumatizing to wake him up or should she just let it run its course? It only took a second to realize it was too cruel to just leave him like that. She approached his bed.

"Barty? Barty, wake up. It's just a dream."

Talking to him had no effect and he seemed to be getting worse. She reached out to gently push on his shoulder with her hand. All that accomplished was getting him to throw out that arm nearly hitting her in the process. Was there a spell that could work? She didn't want to hurt him. Not when he was in such a vulnerable position.

"Barty, wake up!"

Shouting didn't help. He just kept thrashing around on the bed as if he was struggling to get away from some unseen enemy. The screaming wasn't as consistent but he started to breathe erratically. Worried he would hyperventilate, she knew she had to do what was commonly done to calm those who were panicking.

Hermione had to crawl on to the edge of the bed to reach the man's shoulders. Once he was somewhat restrained, she used her right hand to slap him hard across the face. The screaming stopped at once.

Barty's eyes slowly opened. When he saw her, they grew very wide and he was very confused. Hermione still had one of his shoulders in her grasp.

"I'm sorry I had to slap you, but I didn't know what else to do to wake you up. You were having a nightmare."

Once he came fully to his senses, Barty was embarrassed. His fair cheeks flushed and he couldn't meet Hermione's eyes. When he looked down a new problem arose. He saw what Hermione was wearing and his entire face and neck turned a darker shade of red. Despite all of his comments the first day he was in her house that she couldn't ask him not to stare if she wandered around wearing very little, he turned his eyes to the wall. Realizing she was still on his bed, she quickly jumped up. She hadn't thought about how thin her nightgown was when she ran in to see why he was screaming and also didn't think about how easily he could see down it from the position she leaned over him from. It was no wonder he was shocked. She was mortified.

"I'll make us some tea in the kitchen."

On her way to make the tea, Hermione stopped in her bedroom to put on her oldest and least attractive dressing gown. Would he make obnoxious, disgusting comments about what he'd seen of her body when he was more awake and in his right mind? She hoped not. Though it had only been a couple of days, she had been surprised by the change in him when they shared a surprisingly pleasant dinner hours earlier. She didn't want to go back to hexing or slapping him out of sheer frustration.

Her first cup of herbal tea was almost gone when Barty finally entered the kitchen. He was still embarrassed. Drops of water trickled down his face. Did he dunk his entire head in the sink to calm down? She supposed everyone had their own ways of dealing with the aftermath of stressful situations. Who was she to judge if it worked?

For a few minutes he held his cup of tea between his hands without taking a sip. Did he even like herbal tea? Hermione realized she never even bothered to ask him. There was so much she didn't know about her houseguest. He was still a practical stranger. To keep from blurting out any of the dozens of questions swirling around in her head, she kept her mouth busy drinking from her own cup. If he wanted to talk, he would say something when he was ready.

"I'm very sorry I woke you up. You shouldn't have to worry about your rest being disturbed after you've had a long day at work."

"Barty, you have nothing to apologize for. You didn't have a nightmare on purpose."

He sighed as he stared into his full cup. There was a change in his demeanor that continued to surprise Hermione. Was the brash, obnoxious wizard who made disgusting remarks about her body all just an act he put on to distract from the scared, broken man she saw seated at her table? Was it who he wished he was? She couldn't help but find the whole situation fascinating.

"Do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about? Sometimes it helps to talk about it, make it seem less real."

"Oh, it was bloody real all right. Every single second."

There was a sharp edge to his tone she hadn't heard before. More bits of the real man poked through. Barty exhaled a heavy sigh,

"When I close my eyes, I see terrible things."

"Like what?"

"Trust me when I tell you that you don't want to know. I haven't wanted to go to sleep since I woke up in St. Mungo's with my soul intact. I tried to take a nap when you were at work, but I had a nightmare. I distracted myself with the television as long as I could, but I couldn't stay awake any longer."

"You can't avoid sleep forever, Barty. It's impossible and not healthy."

"I know, but…"

After another heavy sigh, he took his first drink from his cup. She recognized when someone else didn't want to continue an uncomfortable conversation. He had a right to his own privacy no matter how curious she was.

"Would you like a dreamless sleep potion? It'll help you get through the night and I have several vials."

"I don't know. Not sure I should rely on those. I could get addicted."

"You won't get addicted if you just take one. Just tonight. You'll feel better. Please."

Reluctantly, he agreed. She rushed to get a vial from her bathroom cupboard before he could change his mind. Once he swallowed every drop and his eyes began to droop, they said their goodnights again and went to their separate rooms.

There were no more interruptions that night. Hermione laid up in her own bed for a long time waiting to see if she would hear him cry out again. The house remained silent to her relief. No, sleeping potions weren't an effective long-term solution to his problem, but at least he could get one night of decent sleep.

Unfortunately for Hermione's nerves and her desire to always be punctual, the events in the middle of the night caused her to oversleep. Most days she didn't require an alarm to wake up. It didn't occur to her to set one until it was too late.

She hated the feeling of having to rush through getting ready in the morning. It always set a bad tone for how the rest of the day would develop. No doubt Blaise would assume she was late because of her reluctance to be in the Ministry that day. At least running late meant she didn't have enough time to obsess over and dread seeing Harry again in just a few short hours.

Unlike the other mornings she'd woken up to in recent days, her house was silent when she finally exited her bedroom. A quick check of the kitchen and the lounge where the prized television was located yielded no sign of her houseguest. While it was entirely possible that he could've slipped out when she wasn't awake, Hermione hope that wasn't the case. After his difficult night, Barty needed rest. If he was the sort to want to fight against the effects of the sleeping potion she all but forced him to take, she didn't know how else to help him. Maybe there was nothing that could be done.

Before she left, she knocked softly on Barty's closed door. It would drive her mad all day if she didn't know where he was. When there was no answer, she pushed the door open anyway. It was her house after all. She had every right to know what was happening under its roof.

Barty was still fast asleep when she saw him. Clearly his exhausted body couldn't fight the potion. She was glad. Avoiding sleep for too long would only make matters worse. She couldn't ignore the fact that he seemed to be an entirely different person when he was asleep. Much more peaceful and at ease, he was almost pleasant. Maybe it wouldn't be such a terrible idea to sneak more sleeping potions into his food and drink if there was such a stark contrast to who he was when he was awake. Knowing it was inappropriate to keep staring, Hermione quietly closed the door to let him keep sleeping undisturbed.

To her great annoyance, Blaise was already seated at his desk when she entered their office a short time later. Only a handful of times in three years had he beat her there. She didn't want him to make a big deal out of it. Based solely on his facial expression when she entered, he was surprised by her tardiness.

"Please tell me you didn't send a late night owl to the Minister and that's why you're so tired."

"No, I can assure you that absolutely did not happen. Nor did he send me one."

"Good. Now tell me why you those unattractive dark rings under your eyes."

Rolling her eyes where he could plainly see, Hermione didn't answer his question until her cloak was hung on its proper hook and she was seated in her chair. Experience taught her that she wouldn't be able to get any work done until Blaise's curious nature was satisfied. It was annoying each time she realized they had more in common.

"I was asleep at a decent hour, but in the middle of the night I woke up to the sound of Crouch screaming. It was awful. He sounded so terrified that I thought he was being attacked. I ran into his bedroom, but he was only dreaming. It must've been a horrible nightmare. He's been reluctant to sleep the entire time he's been awake again."

"I can't say that I blame him. Of course he would have nightmares. Can you even imagine what he saw when he was Kissed? It's honestly a wonder he's not completely insane."

Yet again they were in agreement. Blaise was oddly mature about the situation. She half-expected him to make some inappropriate remarks. Feeling encouraged and hoping it would continue, she wanted to tell him the full story. Could he shed some light on the aftermath of their conversation?

"I didn't know what to do to help him. It seemed cruel to just leave him in that panicked state. When he started to breathe oddly, I worried he was going to hyperventilate. He didn't wake up when I screamed his name over and over. I ended up having to crawl onto the bed to grab his shoulders to slap him awake. I would've thought I would've enjoyed slapping him again, but I didn't."

Blaise smirked, but remained silent.

"I actually think I may have embarrassed him. When he finally woke up and saw me, he couldn't even look me in the eye. He just kept staring at the wall. I don't know what he thinks he needs to be ashamed of. We all have nightmares."

Blaise's smirk quickly morphed into loud, amused laughter shocking Hermione. What could possibly be so funny about what she just said? Every time she thought she was just beginning to understand the man, he would do something puzzling to prove she didn't know him at all.

"And, love, tell me, what exactly were you wearing when you climbed on top of his bed to slap him awake?"

"I hardly think that matters…"

But even as she tried to utter the words Hermione knew it was no use. She'd known it when it was happening. He hadn't only been embarrassed by being caught in a nightmare. Blaise struggled to stop laughing long enough to speak.

"Crouch's embarrassment likely had more to do with waking up to find a scantily clad beautiful woman in his bed more than anything. Describe to me in detail what you had on."

"Shut up, Blaise."

He wasn't offended as his resumed laughter attested. Could he ever be serious for long?

"Crouch hasn't been in the same bed with a beautiful woman in a very, very long time. Maybe he never has. We don't know what his past was like. He wasn't even out of Hogwarts when he became a Death Eater and was arrested."

Part of her hated Blaise for making her suddenly curious about Barty's past sexual exploits. That was definitely none of her business. She didn't want to admit that Blaise was most likely correct about why he was really embarrassed. He was right far too often in her opinion.

"He did take a long time before he came into the kitchen for tea and a sleeping potion. His hair was dripping."

"There's your answer. Your climbing onto his bed had such an effect on him he needed a cold shower before he could be in your presence again. What a siren you must be away from the office, love. I'm impressed."

Amused but not wanting him to think he was clever, Hermione bit back a smile. She wadded up a piece of parchment to throw in his laughing face. In the end, she couldn't keep from grinning.

"You're incorrigible, Blaise. Now, shut up and let me get some work done."

Unfortunately, to Hermione's great disappointment, another that day, there was nothing more important or pressing that came up before the ceremony at noon that would prevent her attendance. She even wished a terrible sickness would fall on her just in time that she had to be rushed away to St. Mungo's. Nothing serious enough to cause lasting damage, of course. She just needed a reason to avoid going.

"The sooner you get to the Atrium, the sooner it will be over."

She was tempted to argue with Blaise's logic. No, the sooner she arrived in the Atrium, the longer the ordeal would be. After promising her fellow analyst that she wouldn't skip out on the event no one in the Ministry could stop talking about, Hermione watched Blaise leave. If she timed it just right, she could stand in the very back as far from her former friend as possible.

When she could no longer delay her exit for another second, Hermione really did feel ill. Every step she took closer to the Atrium made her feel even worse. What would it be like to see Harry again? Would he even try to speak to her? She wasn't sure what she would say if he did. So much needed to be said if there was ever any hope they could recover their friendship.

She was one of the last officials to arrive. Even in such a large space, there was hardly any room left to stand. Grateful for a small empty corner in the back, Hermione claimed her spot. Most of her excited coworkers wanted to be closer to the raised dais in the middle of the Atrium where the Minister for Magic stood with all of the courageous wizards responsible for eradicating the world of the evil dementors.

The beard Blaise described as 'disgusting' had been shaved off Harry's face. Sometimes he could still resemble the boy she met on the train when they were eleven and she was looking for Neville's toad. Other times she could see him and recognize him for the stranger he'd become. It was quite sad. Why did the older generations never explain the heartbreaking reality of how friendships changed and often broke down the older they became? She'd always hated learning anything the hard way.

Harry looked exhausted as he stood next to Kingsley, but he tried to keep up the act that he was happy and honored to be there. She knew him well enough to know he was uncomfortable, anxious to leave to be anywhere else. At least they still had something in common. It made her smile the smallest of grins.

Very little of what Kingsley said made any sense. She hardly heard a word. As well as being lost in her own thoughts, she was still very annoyed with the infuriating man. There was also a great deal of anger simmering underneath the surface she was unable to ignore. Most of that, however, was directed at herself instead of Kingsley. She'd allowed their affair to go on for far too long.

After the ceremony concluded, Kingsley invited everyone present to toast Harry and his team with one of the glasses of champagne floating in the air. Another party like the one they had only days earlier when the good news was announced was planned. Very little work was to be expected the rest of the day. She drank her one glass, but drew the line at remaining for the festivities. All she needed was another whisper in her ear to meet Kingsley in an empty office. She wasn't certain she was strong enough to resist their explosive chemistry just yet. Best that she try to avoid him instead.

Despite the festive atmosphere, she wanted nothing more than to rush back to her office. Ecstatic when the formal ceremony concluded, Hermione practically ran to the stairwell. Too many people would be in the lifts which left far too many opportunities for her to run into someone who might insist she return to the party. Fewer people used the stairs with most avoiding them whenever possible.

The moment the door to the stairwell slammed shut behind her she knew she'd made a poor decision. Hermione wasn't the only one using the rarely climbed staircases to avoid the crush of people outside. Alone for the first time in many months, neither Harry nor Hermione could pretend they didn't see the other. She tried to smile as convincingly as possible.

"Sneaking out of your own party? That's not very polite."

His smile was nearly as forced as hers.

"I left something in my office before I left on my mission. I wanted to try to get it without anyone seeing."

"I'm very glad you're all right, Harry."

The words just tumbled out of her mouth. When she imagined what she might sway to him the first time she saw him again, she'd hoped to be a little more eloquent. Pushing aside the worst bits of her hurt feelings and injured pride, Hermione threw her arms around him to hug him tight. It was awkward and uncomfortable but she was glad she said something.

"Harry, I was wrong. I'm very sorry."

"No, you weren't wrong. I'll accept your apology if you still want to give it, but no, you were right."

For someone who spent her entire life always trying to be the one who was right in every situation, it was small comfort. She dropped her arms and stepped back. Any other time in their shared past Harry would've teased her for being a loss for words. She hated that they couldn't even have a normal conversation.

"I really should hurry so I can get back before I'm missed."

Hermione didn't even try to stop him from rushing away. Maybe the next time they saw each other it would be easier.