Chapter 3
Hermione hitched up he skirts and started up the crude stairs carved in the cliff side. In her apron was an overflowing bouquet of every wildflower she had been able to find. She had decided on her long walk along the barren seaside what she had to do about Harry, the love of her life. Somehow, she had to make him see the joy of life. Once she was able to do that, they would be able to live happily again, away form this desolate place. She climbed the last step and blew a deep breath. Obviously she had not done this in a while. Only one time up and she was already out of breath? Hermione shook her head wearily and strode towards her home. The first thing she noticed about her humble domain was that the door was swung open. That was peculiar. When Harry slept, even in the odd state he was now, it was more soundly than ten thousand rocks. She ambled into the room and put the flowers down cautiously on their small table, a good third of them spilling over the side. She looked around the room. Nothing had changed. Nothing she could see, anyway. And yet . . . and yet the place felt . . . different. It was quite aggravating, really, that she could not pinpoint how. Hermione prided herself in knowing how things had changed. She took another long look at the place then sighed, shutting the door and slumping down wearily on Harry's bed.
"OW!" she screamed instantly, then leapt up clutching her bottom. Of course she wanted the woolhead to get better, but this little prank was disgraceful! She brought her skirts around to where she could see them and carefully plucked the small shard of glass from the thick blue wool. Looking at it closely, she could almost make out . . . something. Another one of these things where you were so close in knowing what it was, yet it was still just out of reach. She grunted irritably and placed the small piece of glass - if that's what it was, which Hermione doubted - down on the table, where she had spread open a little spot for it among the flowers. Seeing the flora, she picked one up and sighed wistfully at it. She then brought it to her nose and took a deep whiff of the soothing smell. Strange, but her eyelids suddenly felt . . .heavier. Her vision turned grainy and it was as if every muscle in her body had decided to disappear. Her last thought before she fell into a deep slumber was, I hope Harry is all right . . .
Hermione lifted her head up and looked at her surroundings in wonder. Where am I? She thought, scratching her head. Suddenly, there was a poof of white smoke and an old man with a grisly milk colored beard emerged with a broad grin on his face.
"Hello Hermione!" he exclaimed in a jolly voice. "And welcome to the secret world of dreams! I'm here to inform you of an interesting turn of events! Your dear Harry has been sent on a secret quest that involves . . . er. . . well, it involves something, anyway. It wouldn't be fair to give it away, now, would it? Anyway, your job in this is to make sure you keep loving him! Because, you see, he sustains on the amount of love you have, so if you have too little, he just might die! That would not be too good, now would it?" At this point he stopped and scratched his beard and mumbled to himself. "Now, I didn't forget anything, did I? The quest, loving Harry, death, er . . . hmmmm."
Hermione arched an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips. "Excuse me, mister whatever you are, but how am I supposed to keep up with Harry? I'll have a hard time loving him if I can't see him! Honestly, I can't do the impossible here!"
The old man's eyes twinkled and he leaned in close to Hermione. "My, my, aren't you the bright one? That's what I had forgotten!"
He reached a knobby hand into a hidden pocket in his robes and handed a small, sparrow-looking bird to her.
"Here you go, dear. This bird will tell you all about Harry! You don't even have to take care of it; just set it on a branch and let it be! You're a bright girl; I'm sure you'll figure it out. Must be off! Tootles!"
And with that, everything disappeared. Hermione stood up from her spot on the bed and plucked the glass shard off, flicking it away. She then took the little sparrow and set it on a branch of a nearby tree whose limbs grazed the window. She then sat down on her little stool and placed her chin in the palm of her hand, trying desperately to figure out what to do.
Disclaimer: see prologue
Hermione hitched up he skirts and started up the crude stairs carved in the cliff side. In her apron was an overflowing bouquet of every wildflower she had been able to find. She had decided on her long walk along the barren seaside what she had to do about Harry, the love of her life. Somehow, she had to make him see the joy of life. Once she was able to do that, they would be able to live happily again, away form this desolate place. She climbed the last step and blew a deep breath. Obviously she had not done this in a while. Only one time up and she was already out of breath? Hermione shook her head wearily and strode towards her home. The first thing she noticed about her humble domain was that the door was swung open. That was peculiar. When Harry slept, even in the odd state he was now, it was more soundly than ten thousand rocks. She ambled into the room and put the flowers down cautiously on their small table, a good third of them spilling over the side. She looked around the room. Nothing had changed. Nothing she could see, anyway. And yet . . . and yet the place felt . . . different. It was quite aggravating, really, that she could not pinpoint how. Hermione prided herself in knowing how things had changed. She took another long look at the place then sighed, shutting the door and slumping down wearily on Harry's bed.
"OW!" she screamed instantly, then leapt up clutching her bottom. Of course she wanted the woolhead to get better, but this little prank was disgraceful! She brought her skirts around to where she could see them and carefully plucked the small shard of glass from the thick blue wool. Looking at it closely, she could almost make out . . . something. Another one of these things where you were so close in knowing what it was, yet it was still just out of reach. She grunted irritably and placed the small piece of glass - if that's what it was, which Hermione doubted - down on the table, where she had spread open a little spot for it among the flowers. Seeing the flora, she picked one up and sighed wistfully at it. She then brought it to her nose and took a deep whiff of the soothing smell. Strange, but her eyelids suddenly felt . . .heavier. Her vision turned grainy and it was as if every muscle in her body had decided to disappear. Her last thought before she fell into a deep slumber was, I hope Harry is all right . . .
Hermione lifted her head up and looked at her surroundings in wonder. Where am I? She thought, scratching her head. Suddenly, there was a poof of white smoke and an old man with a grisly milk colored beard emerged with a broad grin on his face.
"Hello Hermione!" he exclaimed in a jolly voice. "And welcome to the secret world of dreams! I'm here to inform you of an interesting turn of events! Your dear Harry has been sent on a secret quest that involves . . . er. . . well, it involves something, anyway. It wouldn't be fair to give it away, now, would it? Anyway, your job in this is to make sure you keep loving him! Because, you see, he sustains on the amount of love you have, so if you have too little, he just might die! That would not be too good, now would it?" At this point he stopped and scratched his beard and mumbled to himself. "Now, I didn't forget anything, did I? The quest, loving Harry, death, er . . . hmmmm."
Hermione arched an eyebrow at him and pursed her lips. "Excuse me, mister whatever you are, but how am I supposed to keep up with Harry? I'll have a hard time loving him if I can't see him! Honestly, I can't do the impossible here!"
The old man's eyes twinkled and he leaned in close to Hermione. "My, my, aren't you the bright one? That's what I had forgotten!"
He reached a knobby hand into a hidden pocket in his robes and handed a small, sparrow-looking bird to her.
"Here you go, dear. This bird will tell you all about Harry! You don't even have to take care of it; just set it on a branch and let it be! You're a bright girl; I'm sure you'll figure it out. Must be off! Tootles!"
And with that, everything disappeared. Hermione stood up from her spot on the bed and plucked the glass shard off, flicking it away. She then took the little sparrow and set it on a branch of a nearby tree whose limbs grazed the window. She then sat down on her little stool and placed her chin in the palm of her hand, trying desperately to figure out what to do.
Disclaimer: see prologue