For Old Times' Sake

Friday
Toad in the Hole. Strangers. A Nightmare (and the Tea that Followed).

Hermione opened the wooden gate and, after acknowledging the Memorial that rose up out of the ground (They shouldn't have written on the sign! said Hermione, outraged. Harry didn't think the same as he replied with: It's brilliant. I'm glad they did.), took up the short path that weaved its way between the waist-high grass on either side of her. Overhead, purple clouds bruised the sky as the sun disappeared somewhere over the horizon.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and waited, hoping Harry was at home. She took a chance in coming to Godric's Hollow unannounced even though she considered writing a letter to see if it was okay that she did. However, the spontaneous side of her, a side that had bloomed like a field of flowers during the throes of the War, took hold as she pretty much convinced herself that Harry wouldn't mind such a visit.

At least she hoped he wouldn't.

The door opened and Harry, clearly surprised, said, "Hermione? What're you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she replied, one hand wringing the other like a Muggle would a wet towel. She usually did this when she happened to be nervous and though Harry didn't make her nervous, she hadn't seen him since the end of the War.

Looking over her shoulder, he asked, "Did you come by yourself?"

When she nodded, Hermione could've sworn she saw relief loop his eyes like an eclipse.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside.

She looked around in the entryway and saw stairs that led to the first floor while the dining room was off to one side and the sitting room was off to the other.

"Did you have dinner yet?" he asked, beckoning her to follow him as he led her past the staircase to the back of the home. "I'm making toad in the hole."

"Hungry, are you?"

"Famished," was his reply. "Want some?"

"Sounds delicious," she said.

In the kitchen, he pulled out a chair for her at the table, one that was just big enough for two, and went to man the food at the counter. Hermione set her beaded bag on the floor and watched him as he did this, shocked to find that he seemed to be extremely comfortable and, dare she say, even relaxed. Yet she was happy for him as it was a better sight than finding him alone and miserable – a thought that terrorized her dreams at night. It was something that scared her greatly and thus, part of her visit was to see if he was okay.

"How'd you know where I was?" Harry asked, turning around to face her. His wand was in his hand, having just used a variation of the Fire-Making Charm to crisp the edges of the toad in the hole, pointing somewhere over his shoulder.

"I ran upon some luck, actually," she answered. "I thought you might've gone to Grimmauld Place so I went there first."

"Saw Kreacher, did you?"

"He told me where you were."

Harry scoffed but smiled despite himself. He turned back around and continued preparing dinner, waving his wand at the plates when he was finished. They spiraled over to the table while bottles of Butterbeer followed shortly after.

"Did you mean to be by yourself?" Hermione asked as Harry took a seat across from her. Their knees bumped each other under the table. "You left Hogwarts without telling anyone."

"I needed some space," he said, using his fork and knife to cut up the sausage. "It was all too much to handle, and I didn't want to be around so many people afterwards."

"And how do you feel now?"

"Better," he replied. "It's been a couple of weeks since the end of the War, but it feels like a lot longer than that. And I mean that in a good way."

Hermione gave him a small smile and started on her dinner, choosing to go after the sausage first. Drowned in onion gravy, the smell of it was intoxicating, so much so that it was like she was possessed by it. And after taking a bite, she almost groaned at how good it tasted.

"What's the verdict?" he said, nodding at her plate.

"Not half-bad," she told him.

"Not half-bad?" he repeated. "Does that mean you like it?"

"Very much," she nodded. "I'm a bit miffed that you're better at cooking than me."

This made him grin, "Well, I did have a lot of practice with the Dursleys. Besides, baking's more of your thing."

After taking a sip of Butterbeer, she asked, "Are you ever going to see them again…your aunt and uncle?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "It's like water under a bridge with them." Looking off to the side, he continued, "Although, right before he left, my cousin Dudley did seem to finally regard me as an actual person instead of his own personal punching bag."

"Do you know where they went?"

"Into hiding, but don't know where exactly. My guess is somewhere far away," waving his hand in a wide arc as if to show her just how far away they went.

"They'll come back though, right?"

"I suppose," he said. "They've been in Little Whinging ever since they got married."

"You think you might've turned a corner with them?"

He thought about this for a minute, eating more of his dinner as he did, and shrugged. "I don't really care if I did or didn't. It'd be enough to know that they're safe."

A bird landed on the sill of the open window above the sink. It hopped along it as if it were involved in a game of Muggle hopscotch and flew away when it reached the end.

"What about the Weasleys? How're they doing?" Harry asked. "I can't imagine it's easy with Fred and all."

"It's been rough," Hermione said. "Losing Fred has been hard on all of them and I wouldn't expect anything less. I mean, it's been hard on me too."

"Same," Harry thought to add.

"I just feel like they deserve some privacy right now."

"You were staying at the Burrow with them?"

"For a bit," she said. "Ron invited me over."

"Have you guys figured things out going forward?"

Hermione said, "We decided it'd be best to take a break. Technically, we weren't ever together in the first place-,"

"What about that snog?"

"Oh, please! I acted without thinking," she told him, feeling her face burn like the edges of the toad in the hole had under Harry's ministrations. "Ron made that comment about the house-elves down in the kitchens and…well, you know the rest," her hand fluttered in the air.

"So you didn't mean to snog him?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "I don't fancy him in that way!"

"I'm sure he sees things differently."

"He does," Hermione sighed heavily. "That's why he didn't particularly care for the fact of taking a break in the first place."

"It wasn't consensual, was it?" Harry asked. "Taking a break was your idea?"

Setting down her fork and knife, she nodded. "It was my idea, yes."

Drumming his fingers on the table, he said, "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm kind of having the same problem with Ginny."

"Is that why you've been avoiding her?"

"I haven't been avoiding her," Harry replied, his brows pulling together across his head.

"She thinks you have," Hermione said.

"Listen, when I broke up with her at Dumbledore's funeral, I had every intention of getting back together when the War was over with."

"So what happened?"

"I think time apart from each other put things into perspective. I still like Ginny, but it's more like siblings would like each other, not as anything more." He took another bite of his dinner and said, "Looking for Horcruxes changed me in a way that I didn't realize until this past week."

"What kind of changes?"

"Things," he said cryptically, not looking at her. Instead, he was fixated on the window above the sink, almost as if he hoped the bird would come back and have another go at hopscotch.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Er, not right now," he shook his head.

Returning to her dinner, Hermione wondered if the changes Harry went through were the same changes that she went through, with the biggest change of all being the recognition of her feelings towards Harry himself. It was third year when her feelings started to change though she wasn't aware of such changes until the year after. She once believed she fancied Ron, especially after the Yule Ball fiasco, but when Harry emerged with Cedric Diggory's body at the end of the Triwizard Tournament, a prophet of Voldemort returning, it was clear that she fancied him instead. That was why she kissed him on the cheek at King's Cross before the summer holiday. And no, she hadn't meant to do that, especially in front of Ron. It just kind of happened. It was an intuition she decided to run with and bugger anyone who thought it had meant anything more than friendship. But to her, it meant a lot more, and though she tried to convey the meaning behind her kiss, she figured it was lost on Harry and he would forget about it over the summer break.

Thus, she wasn't at all disappointed when Harry came to Grimmauld Place over the summer, simmering over the fact that he'd been isolated, on Dumbledore's orders no less, away from the action, so to speak, on what was being done to combat Voldemort. Not once did Harry mention her kiss and her gut told her that given his attitude of being axed from any and all events related to magic, it'd be best not to bring it up. And that's not even mentioning that Ron was always with them, and though she was surprised he hadn't caused a scene at King's Cross when she kissed Harry, she could make no promises about it then.

As fifth year went on and it was clear that Harry was vying for Cho's attention, she sat in the backseat, watching the scenery from the windows on either side of her. Unfortunately, the scenery itself wasn't all that nice to look at: apart from Harry's random temper explosions, a trait she often associated Ron with, the Ministry and Daily Prophet were playing a game of dirty politics, assassinating the characters of both Dumbledore and Harry, refusing to believe such lies that Voldemort had returned. Not only that, but Professor Umbridge had imposed draconian laws on Hogwarts in the hopes of bringing the school under Ministry regulation.

But Old Toad Face, her own moniker for the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, never made Hermione forget about the kiss she gave Harry. Sure, Old Toad Face reminded her that the scenery from the backseat was ugly and vile, and she was also sure of the fact that Harry was still after Cho. Yet she couldn't help but replay her kiss, and often did so in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep. She always smiled at the memory and just wished Harry had remembered it too. There were times when she actually thought he did remember, but had a dinner buffet to sort through first before he could get to the dessert. Because she hoped that her kiss was sweet enough to be categorized as dessert. She wouldn't complain at all if this was true.

However, it was when Harry wandered back into the Common Room one night in a bit of a daze right before the winter holiday that she fully realized that her feelings for him had changed completely. She still thought of him as one of her best friends, but now there was a lot more baggage attached to it. It was just unfortunate of her that her awareness of regarding Harry as a future partner happened on the same night he kissed Cho. Or had Cho kissed him?

Luckily, she was writing a letter to Viktor and that acted as a screen of secrecy for her to hide behind, lest she declare her love for Harry and confuse him even more, because he did look confused after the kiss. He described it as wet, which is probably why he was confused in the first place, and Hermione, despite the spoil that she felt in the pit of her stomach, gave Harry and Ron a small dose of what Cho was experiencing during the snogging session.

When Harry began to believe he was a bad kisser and was the sole reason for why Cho was crying so hard, Hermione had to step in, and step in she did. Of course, she didn't really know how it was to kiss him, but if her dreams were any indication, then Harry was a fine kisser indeed. She actually never told anyone of these dreams because they were private to her. She arrested and jailed them in the remotest cells of her mind so that anyone would have great difficulty in finding them.

Of all people, Ron had nearly caused her to confess to Harry right then and there that she fancied him when he believed Harry and Hermione had snuck off sometime before and had their own snogging session. (How do you know? Ron asked her sharply when Hermione vetoed the absurd idea that Harry believed he was a bad kisser.) Thankfully, in one of the few times where she had been quick on her feet, she brought up the idea that Cho was crying all the time. She didn't know if this was true, but at least it deflected Ron's interference on probing Hermione about how she would know that Harry wasn't a bad kisser. Though he was unsuspecting of the fact, Ron was tiptoeing dangerously close to the truth - and that wouldn't be the last time he had done so either.

Deciding it would be best to let such things go for now, Hermione asked, "Do you think you're going to stay here at the cottage?"

"Probably," Harry said, surveying the kitchen. "After fixing it up, it already feels like home."

"What're you going to do with Grimmauld Place?"

"I'll leave it as it is for now," he said, picking up his bottle of Butterbeer and draining it. "I don't fancy moving in there, you know."

"Does that mean you won't be going back to Hogwarts?"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it." Then: "Are you?"

"I feel like I have to."

"No one's forcing you."

"I know, but I feel like I should. It'd only be proper."

"You think many people will go back?"

"No idea," she shook her head. "They'll probably see how the summer goes before making a decision."

Harry seemed to consider this and said, "Maybe I'll do the same."

"Will you?" she asked, a bit surprised.

"It wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"Not at all," she told him. She finished her dinner and said, "It might be a little strange if Ron and Ginny go back though."

"I don't think Ron has any intention of returning."

"Why's that?"

"He just doesn't seem to care about his N.E.W.T.s."

"What's he going to do if he doesn't go back to Hogwarts?"

"Kingsley offered him to enroll in the Auror Training Progamme," Harry said.

"But isn't more years of study required for that?"

"Three years," Harry told her.

"And Ron knows of this?" she asked. "I mean, he was a bit lacking when it came to doing his schoolwork." With some hesitancy, she added, "You were too."

"Some things I didn't find very interesting."

"Did Kingsley offer you to enroll in the Auror Training Progamme also?"

"I already said I didn't want to."

"Are you serious?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"I don't want to be an Auror anymore," he said. "I did at one time, but it doesn't really appeal to me like it did before."

"So what do you want to do?" Hermione asked.

"Not sure," he replied. "But I imagine something'll come to me eventually."

"After you finish Hogwarts, right?"

"Sure," he nodded, and they both laughed. "By the way, what're you going to do about your parents? I imagine you'll see to them soon?"

"I already have," she said softly.

"Really?" When she nodded, he asked, "So they're back in England?"

Hermione shook her head and said, "Not exactly."

She paused for a minute, taking the time to make sure her emotions were in check lest they spill out of her and was like a tidal wave against an unsuspecting Harry, who had his own emotions to take care of. She knew that he didn't particularly like it when girls cried in front of him and she'd be damned if crying was what she did right now. Besides, she felt as if she couldn't cry anymore on the matter, having already done so plenty of times before.

"The False Memory Charm I placed on my parents…well, let's just say that it's not supposed to be used on Muggles."

"It's irreversible?"

"Along the lines of permanent insanity, yes and no," Hermione said.

Harry sighed heavily, "What does that mean?"

"Counteracting the False Memory Charm would likely have my parents become lifelong residents at Bethlem Royal."

"I'm sorry-," Harry began.

"Don't," Hermione interrupted, harsher than she intended to. "I already knew of the risks associated with performing the False Memory Charm on my parents and that'll be something I'll have to live with from now on."

"Hang on," Harry said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "The False Memory Charm…you knew that trying to reverse it would make your parents go mad?"

She nodded once.

"Then why'd you do it in the first place?"

Silence ensued and for what it was worth, there wasn't any accusation Harry charged Hermione with. Instead, it was as if he was trying his best to understand why she'd give up her parents, willingly at that. She supposed it was difficult for him to wrap his head around the fact, given the untimely ends his own parents met at the hands of Voldemort. However, she believed that she acted within her own parameters of justifying her own actions, no matter how harsh they appeared to be.

"I never told them," she said.

"Never told them what?" Harry asked.

"The specifics of everything that happened at Hogwarts," she replied. "If they ever found out, I would've been long gone. Probably after first year even." Her eyes found Harry's empty plate across from her own, of which there was a small puddle of onion gravy left over. "And because I left out the more important parts, there was this divide between us, separating me from my parents. I felt it, and I'm positive they did as well."

"It got bigger, didn't it…that divide?" Harry guessed.

"A lot bigger," she said. "In the end, it got so big that there wasn't any bridge long enough to bring us back together again."

"This is my fault," Harry commented.

"Don't go blaming yourself now!" Hermione said, suddenly stern. She waved her finger at him as if he was misbehaving. Technically, he was. "I'm the one who chose not to tell my parents anything!"

"Because of me," he countered.

"Don't be daft! Of course it was because of you!"

"They're your parents," Harry tried to reason.

"Strangers, you mean," she said. "Because that's all we were to each other...strangers."

"And you're just going to leave them in Australia?"

"I know exactly where they are," she replied, her gaze drifting to the blackness that existed just beyond the window above the sink. "When I used the False Memory Charm on my parents, I put an idea inside their heads for them to open a dental practice, Sweet Teeth, on Racecourse Road."

"Racecourse Road?" Harry repeated.

"According to what I was able to find at the Hogwarts Library, it's a dining, entertainment, and shopping district in Hamilton, pretty close to the Bewitched Bungalow, the magical community in Brisbane."

"Think you might visit them again?"

She shrugged, "Even if I wanted to, it'd only get harder the more I did. I know it seems cruel to leave them there, but they seemed so happy as Wendell and Monica Wilkins. Perhaps it's for the best to leave them be."

"You sure that's what you want?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm willing to give my support in whatever you decide to do," Harry said.

"That's a first," Hermione smiled a little. "Usually, it's the other way around."

Looking embarrassed, he ducked his head and said, "You've been there for me a lot of the time. Now, I want to be there for you."

"Repaying the favor?"

"More or less," he grinned.

"I never knew you were into humor."

"I like trying new things," he said. "Speaking of which, d'you want to stay the night? Kind of like for old times' sake?"

"You have another room upstairs?"

He nodded and said, "I'll show you."

When they reached the landing, Harry led Hermione to the door nearest the stairs and opened it. Inside, she saw a small cot, the home of half a dozen stuffies, resting against a pale blue wall with a rocking chair as its neighbor.

"This was your room, wasn't it?" Hermione guessed.

"Most likely," he said, nodding his head.

"Are you sure you want to give it up? Considering what happened, it seems wrong to change it."

"Where are you going to stay then?"

"I could always go to the Leaky Cauldron-,"

"No," Harry said at once. "Absolutely not."

"Excuse me?" she asked. "The Leaky Cauldron is a perfectly acceptable place to stay for the night!"

"Sure it is, but staying here is much better."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and said, "And why's that?"

"Because you'll be right across the hall from me," he turned, pointing his finger at the door just opposite. "Like I said, it'll be for old times' sake."

"Well," Hermione started, "if you really wanted it to be for old times' sake, we would have to sleep in the same room."

Harry grinned at her and asked, "You want to?"

"I was only joking," and Hermione smiled. Though at Harry's suggestion, she had grown quite warm, as if she had flown too close to the sun. "This is your last chance. Are you sure you don't mind changing the room around?"

"Do whatever you want with it," he said. "It's yours."

At this, Hermione felt a hive of butterflies riot her stomach, much like frogs rioted the pond in the back garden of the Burrow, and waved her wand. The cot was instantly transfigured into a bed, complete with its own headboard, while the rocking chair next to it changed into a recliner, one she hoped to use often as she read. To finish things off, a wardrobe popped into existence, monopolizing a corner of the room. It was a simple but practical environment, something she positively thrived in. And if Harry didn't happen to like it, he could always alter it to fit his needs when she left.

Do whatever you want with it. It's yours.

"Any reason you decided to keep these things?" Harry asked, walking over to the bed and pointing at the stuffies.

"Something to keep as a memory," she explained, standing next to him. "I don't think it'd be right to get rid of everything."

"But what d'you need stuffies for?"

"I don't exactly need them," she said. "I just want them."

"Think they'll help you fend off any nightmares you might have?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she told him. "Here, look at this one," she said, picking up a stuffie in the shape of a doe. "And that one there is a stag," she pointed a finger.

"The dog and wolf too," and Harry nodded his head at the stuffies themselves.

Hermione kept from mentioning that a rat was missing from the stuffie collection and wondered if Harry noticed.

As she set her beaded bag on the recliner, she asked, "Are you sure it's okay if I stay with you?"

"Why're you so concerned?" he replied, turning to face her.

"Because it feels like you want to be alone."

"I guess it depends on the company," he said.

"What about Ron and Ginny?"

"Probably not," was his answer, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's hard to explain, but Godric's Hollow feels like a secret between us. I mean, we came here together last Christmas and it was something that no one else was part of…not Ron and not Ginny. To me, that makes it all the more special."

"Sooner or later, Ron and Ginny will want to know where you are."

"You found me easily enough," he said.

"I told you: I ran upon some luck."

"Then maybe they will too."

"And if they don't?" she asked.

"I'll visit the Burrow," he replied. "For now, I think the separation will do us some good. It'll give us chance to see things from a different point of view, you know?"

"What kinds of things?"

"Relationships mainly," he said, sitting on Hermione's bed.

"You're on about Ginny, aren't you?" she asked, sitting next to him.

Harry was quiet for a while, seeming to be lost in his own thoughts. However, she couldn't blame him for this, not when he sought refuge in Godric's Hollow to sort out such thoughts in the first place. And as difficult as it was, Hermione figured it was something everyone had to do: pick up the pieces of whatever was left over and move on. If one could, that is. After all, the nightmares came for her every night, just like she assumed they came for Harry and Ron. But she wondered what kind of nightmares they had for it was assuredly different from her own.

"I don't want to hurt anyone," he said, "Ginny included. But there isn't any other way to go about it."

"Do you think that after seeing things from a different perspective…from a different point view…that you'll change your mind later on?"

He didn't hesitate when he said, "Definitely not."

"How can you be so sure?"

Looking over at her, he said, "I just am," giving her a small smile.

She was back at Malfoy Manor, the Drawing Room to be exact, and Bellatrix was standing over her.

"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"

Her dark and shiny hair was wild about her face, making her look like a lion with a mane, while her heavily-lidded eyes burned like twin suns from the fire in the fireplace.

"You are a lying, filthy Mudblood and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth!"

Draco stood like a ghost between his parents, their shadows haunting the wall behind them. And nearby was Greyback, with matted grey hair and whiskers that seemed to quiver in excitement. He was staring hungrily at Hermione, running his tongue over his pointy teeth.

"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"

Hermione, barely clinging to what was left of her conscious state, had had no doubt that Bellatrix would love to run her through with the knife she had in her hand. Surely, Death would follow soon after. Yet it was unfortunate that if she were to die, Malfoy Manor would be the last thing she saw before then.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"

It was like a thousand white-hot knives piercing every inch of her skin…it was like her bones were on fire…it was like insanity. The pain was intense and powerful, so much so that she shrieked over and over until her voice had gone hoarse…so much so that she writhed from side to side like a lizard's tail after it's been severed from its body. She couldn't speak…she couldn't think…all she was able to do, besides scream, was cry, and cry she did. And though tears of Phoenixes were able to heal, her own tears did nothing of the sort.

"How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

After coming up with a cover story, she sobbed. That was all she could do. She was at the mercy of Bellatrix, who was likely to do her in when the goblin in the cellar refuted her claim that the Sword of Gryffindor was a copy. She bought herself a few minutes of time, maybe even less than that, until Death came, just like it did for everyone who had passed on before her.

"And I think we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her."

He moved forward, his eyes glittering like diamonds, and when he reached his hands out, she saw that his nails were decayed, long and yellow. She closed her eyes and waited for the strike…only that it never came because Harry and Ron sprinted into the room. She was flooded with relief, especially after hearing Harry yell Stupefy! and hearing Ron yell Expelliarmus! The skirmish was guillotined when Bellatrix grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her roughly to her feet.

"STOP OR SHE DIES!" Bellatrix commanded, thrusting the knife against her throat. "Drop your wands," she whispered. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!" When Harry and Ron stood like statues, Bellatrix screamed, "I said drop them!" Hermione felt the tip of the knife puncture her so that blood bubbled out of the wound.

Reluctantly, Harry and Ron gave up their wands so that Draco could scurry over and collect them. As he did so, Bellatrix said, "Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl after what you have done tonight."

Harry and Ron's protests died as they were dragged out of the Drawing Room while Hermione froze in horror as Greyback lunged straight at her. There was a feral look in his eyes while his jaws gnashed violently together.

"I am hungry and need to eat!" he snarled.

Hermione screamed.

Aware of the fact that someone was shaking her, quite aggressively too, she opened her eyes and saw Harry standing over her looking worried.

"Nightmare?" he guessed.

Disoriented, Hermione blinked a couple of times, trying to get her bearings about her.

"What're you doing in here?" she asked, pushing herself up against the headboard.

"I heard you screaming," he answered.

"Was I really?" she said, though the image of Greyback charging at her came back, strong and unbidden. Thus, she supposed that Harry was right and she really had been screaming. Bugger for that.

"How about some tea?" Harry asked. "I find that it usually helps."

"Aren't you tired?"

"I'll sleep in tomorrow," he shrugged, offering his hand. "After all, it's only Saturday."

They took down the stairs, careful not to trip lest they take a likely horrid fall, with their shadows stalking them. Harry left her in the sitting room (The couch's pretty comfortable, he said to her) while he went into the kitchen, tinkering with the hob and kettle.

Hugging herself, Hermione looked around aimlessly, wandering over to the mantle above the fireplace. There, she saw several pictures: the first was of James devouring a package of McVitie's Milk Choc Hobnobs while reading the Quidditch Times; the second was of Lily in the kitchen with a cloud of flour fogging her, seeming as if she was baking a Battenberg; the third was of James and Lily kissing in the backyard amidst a city of glow-worms that hovered just beyond a line of trees. She smiled at each of these in turn, especially the last one where it appeared as if James and Lily were more in love with each other than life itself. Sure, they were young at the time but the adage, age is just a number, still held true, particularly with them.

"Like them, do you?" Harry asked from behind her.

She turned and saw him looking at the pictures of his parents.

"Were these already here when you came by?" she said.

"Haven't been touched," he confirmed, handing her a teacup. Then he added quickly, "Be careful with that, it's hot."

"Thanks," she said, taking a sip.

"Want to tell me what your nightmare was about?" he asked, leading her over to the couch.

They sat at opposite ends with their legs splayed out in front of them so that their feet touched.

After drinking more of her tea, Hermione said, "It's always the same one. Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix is there, and Greyback too."

"How long has this been going on for?"

"Weeks," she replied, somber. "It makes me wonder if it'll ever go away."

"Maybe we should try some Dreamless Sleep Potion."

"We?" Hermione asked. "You've been having nightmares too?" Even though she already supposed as much, he never confirmed the supposition himself.

"Only one," he said, "but it comes back every night."

"And what's it about?"

He hesitated for a bit, his eyes looming over the rim of his own teacup, before saying, "It's the same as yours. Malfoy Manor. But instead of Bellatrix and Greyback, it's you."

"Me?" she asked, confused.

"Your screams," he explained. "I hear them whenever I go to sleep. Well, I hear them whenever I try to go to sleep."

Hermione felt that the space between them was thick with tension, plagued by the memories of what happened at Malfoy Manor…the capture, the torture, and the escape, of which culminated with Dobby's death. The fact of the matter was that even though they'd made it out alive, it was by a fraction that they did, or perhaps it was even less than that. Who knew that Hermione, curious and enthusiastic about a world in which she hadn't known existed, would be tortured years later by those who believed her kind didn't belong. She mentally scoffed at this because she never really belonged with Muggles either. Her parents and the divide she had with them was evidence of this along with the lack of friends her own age even more so.

"It's over with," she said.

"But that doesn't mean the nightmares will stop," Harry pointed out. "Maybe you're right in that they never will, at least not completely."

"So how is it that you seemed so comfortable and relaxed when making dinner before? Remember, the toad in the hole?"

"I don't have any nightmares during the day. And I tend not to think about them either." Finishing his tea, he said, "Besides, being here is kind of therapeutic in a way. It's like even though my parents aren't alive anymore, this cottage was a part of them that's now a part of me."

"You mean that there's a connection?"

"Of sorts," he replied.

Smiling, Hermione said, "Well, if your parents' cottage is a form of therapy, perhaps your nightmares will go away and you won't have to worry about them anymore."

"What about you?"

"Forgot that you mentioned some Dreamless Sleep Potion, did you?"

Grinning, he suggested, "How about we sleep together? I don't mean romantically or anything," he added quickly, unable to hide the blush the made his face turn a furious shade of red, similar to that of a sunburn. "Kind of like how it was when we were on the run."

"For old times' sake?" Hermione asked.

"For old times' sake," Harry nodded.

Waving her wand, Hermione conjured two mattresses out of thin air, completed with bed sheets and duvets that had the Gryffindor Lion on them. They snuggled next to the fireplace as Harry summoned the doe, stag, dog, and wolf stuffies from upstairs.

He handed them over to her and said, "They'll help with the nightmares."

"You sure about that?"

"See how you feel in the morning," he told her.

She huffed, "Fine then. I will."

A/N: I hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading.