Disclaimer: I love the Harry Potter series, but they sure ain't mine. J.K.
made 'em, I am merely standing on the shoulders of a giant.
Chapter 7 : What Dreams may Come
"To Sleep, to dream. Aye, there's the rub, for in sleeping what dreams may come." Hamlet
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Harry tossed and turned in the warm bed. Sweat poured from his brow, and sudden moans would escape from his mouth. The dreams he had were so real, and yet, they couldn't be real. His mind was churning in this false sense of reality, trying to bring logic to the impossible.
Harry looked down to see his arms covered in thick leather, a breastplate covering his chest. He stood on a vast plane of grass, with dark clouds and thunder rumbling above him. Suddenly. Over the hill came men. Thousands of men, all dressed in black robes, carrying wands in their left hands, swords in their right. They were laughing, eyeing the lone boy on the other side of the plane with contempt. As the came closer, Harry saw they all had the same face: a pale face with a flat nose and red, blazing eyes. The face of Lord Voldemort. As they approached, Harry began crying "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" And the horde stopped. He found himself standing in front of Hogwarts, except he was now wearing a crown, and carrying a sword. And he was no longer alone. To his left was Hermione, also wearing a crown, and on his right was Ron, dressed with in armor that looked a lot like his old clothes, worn and rusty. Behind him, Harry saw Dumbledore, dressed in Merlin's long wizards robes. The quartet stood together, a force of good, keeping the evil at bay. But slowly, as if in a dance, they began rotating around each other. Ron reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand. She took it without hesitation. Harry tried to reach her, but could not. The two kissed, and slowly faded from view. Harry felt himself weaken. The Voldemorts felt it too. They charged the castle grounds again. Each of their swords had a hilt shaped like a black dragon, spewing forth the blade from their mouths. Dumbledore held his ground with Harry, and began firing blasts of energy into the oncoming horde. But a rush of green light came at him from a thousand different wands, and his body fell limp. Harry felt tired, alone, and helpless. The thousand Voldemorts began laughing, a lower, harsher laugh than before. Harry felt his legs give way, felt his head sink to the ground. The laughing enveloped him, like a rush of boiling water, driving him to the brink of madness. He looked up, and heard the voice from the dungeon in his ear. "The Time of Sanctuary is over!!!!" it shouted, and brought its sword crashing down.
Harry woke with a start, with his scar burning like someone had dripped lava onto his forehead. Oh my God, he thought. It was all a dream. Dream or not, Harry could not stop shaking, could not shake off the feeling of impending doom. He began to cry, cursing himself for his cowardice, for not being able to free himself from the human emotions that contorted his very soul into agony. Feelings of hate, of betrayal, and worst of all, feelings of hopelessness. The feeling that there was no hope. How could he hope, when all the feeling of good had just been forcibly sucked from his body? Harry shivered. Good. what possible good.
A stir in the bed next to him caught his attention. Hermione had waken up during his dream. "Harry? What is it Harry? What's wrong?" Harry rubbed his eyes, clearing them of tears.
"Nothing Hermione, just a bad dream. Sorry about waking you up."
"Would you like to tell me about it?"
"No, please. I just need to forget. I'll be fine, Hermione."
"Okay, Harry, if you say so."
Hermione closed her eyes, but turned her body so she faced Harry. Harry could tell that she wasn't asleep yet, but was trying. Maybe, just maybe, there is a good in my life. I'm just not looking in the right places. Harry looked at Hermione. She looked beautiful, with her long brown hair tinged red in the firelight. She looked so.peaceful. Her dreams were free of this fear that seemed to reside in Harry's subconscious. Soon, her breathing began to steady, her eyes began to move under her lids, and a smile crept onto her face. She is dreaming, he thought. I wish I knew of what. Do you dream of me, Hermione? Of a world free from fear, free from all the evil that is welled up in the hearts of men. Do you dream of us?
Harry ran his fingers through his hair. Dreams are all well and good, but they do nothing if we do not act on them. He lay back down, facing Hermione, feeling the warmth coming from her body. He slowly began to move his arm up to stroke her hair. Hermione shifted in her sleep, and stretched, throwing her arm over Harry's waist. "Good night, Hermione," Harry whispered in her ear, feeling safe and calm again. She puts me at peace, he thought. Sleep well, Hermione, and dream of better things. Harry shut his eyes, and in a few moments, had fallen asleep. But this time, as he slept, a slight grin played across his face, betraying his contentment to the outside world.
Happy in each other's company, the two friends slept the night away.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Well, just a little something I thought would be cool to put in here. Thanks for reviewing all of you. Ohhhh, and by the way, if any of you are wondering, yes this story will stay at the PG-13 level. I'm gonna try and keep it romantic, nothing more.
Chapter 7 : What Dreams may Come
"To Sleep, to dream. Aye, there's the rub, for in sleeping what dreams may come." Hamlet
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Harry tossed and turned in the warm bed. Sweat poured from his brow, and sudden moans would escape from his mouth. The dreams he had were so real, and yet, they couldn't be real. His mind was churning in this false sense of reality, trying to bring logic to the impossible.
Harry looked down to see his arms covered in thick leather, a breastplate covering his chest. He stood on a vast plane of grass, with dark clouds and thunder rumbling above him. Suddenly. Over the hill came men. Thousands of men, all dressed in black robes, carrying wands in their left hands, swords in their right. They were laughing, eyeing the lone boy on the other side of the plane with contempt. As the came closer, Harry saw they all had the same face: a pale face with a flat nose and red, blazing eyes. The face of Lord Voldemort. As they approached, Harry began crying "Sanctuary! Sanctuary!" And the horde stopped. He found himself standing in front of Hogwarts, except he was now wearing a crown, and carrying a sword. And he was no longer alone. To his left was Hermione, also wearing a crown, and on his right was Ron, dressed with in armor that looked a lot like his old clothes, worn and rusty. Behind him, Harry saw Dumbledore, dressed in Merlin's long wizards robes. The quartet stood together, a force of good, keeping the evil at bay. But slowly, as if in a dance, they began rotating around each other. Ron reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand. She took it without hesitation. Harry tried to reach her, but could not. The two kissed, and slowly faded from view. Harry felt himself weaken. The Voldemorts felt it too. They charged the castle grounds again. Each of their swords had a hilt shaped like a black dragon, spewing forth the blade from their mouths. Dumbledore held his ground with Harry, and began firing blasts of energy into the oncoming horde. But a rush of green light came at him from a thousand different wands, and his body fell limp. Harry felt tired, alone, and helpless. The thousand Voldemorts began laughing, a lower, harsher laugh than before. Harry felt his legs give way, felt his head sink to the ground. The laughing enveloped him, like a rush of boiling water, driving him to the brink of madness. He looked up, and heard the voice from the dungeon in his ear. "The Time of Sanctuary is over!!!!" it shouted, and brought its sword crashing down.
Harry woke with a start, with his scar burning like someone had dripped lava onto his forehead. Oh my God, he thought. It was all a dream. Dream or not, Harry could not stop shaking, could not shake off the feeling of impending doom. He began to cry, cursing himself for his cowardice, for not being able to free himself from the human emotions that contorted his very soul into agony. Feelings of hate, of betrayal, and worst of all, feelings of hopelessness. The feeling that there was no hope. How could he hope, when all the feeling of good had just been forcibly sucked from his body? Harry shivered. Good. what possible good.
A stir in the bed next to him caught his attention. Hermione had waken up during his dream. "Harry? What is it Harry? What's wrong?" Harry rubbed his eyes, clearing them of tears.
"Nothing Hermione, just a bad dream. Sorry about waking you up."
"Would you like to tell me about it?"
"No, please. I just need to forget. I'll be fine, Hermione."
"Okay, Harry, if you say so."
Hermione closed her eyes, but turned her body so she faced Harry. Harry could tell that she wasn't asleep yet, but was trying. Maybe, just maybe, there is a good in my life. I'm just not looking in the right places. Harry looked at Hermione. She looked beautiful, with her long brown hair tinged red in the firelight. She looked so.peaceful. Her dreams were free of this fear that seemed to reside in Harry's subconscious. Soon, her breathing began to steady, her eyes began to move under her lids, and a smile crept onto her face. She is dreaming, he thought. I wish I knew of what. Do you dream of me, Hermione? Of a world free from fear, free from all the evil that is welled up in the hearts of men. Do you dream of us?
Harry ran his fingers through his hair. Dreams are all well and good, but they do nothing if we do not act on them. He lay back down, facing Hermione, feeling the warmth coming from her body. He slowly began to move his arm up to stroke her hair. Hermione shifted in her sleep, and stretched, throwing her arm over Harry's waist. "Good night, Hermione," Harry whispered in her ear, feeling safe and calm again. She puts me at peace, he thought. Sleep well, Hermione, and dream of better things. Harry shut his eyes, and in a few moments, had fallen asleep. But this time, as he slept, a slight grin played across his face, betraying his contentment to the outside world.
Happy in each other's company, the two friends slept the night away.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Well, just a little something I thought would be cool to put in here. Thanks for reviewing all of you. Ohhhh, and by the way, if any of you are wondering, yes this story will stay at the PG-13 level. I'm gonna try and keep it romantic, nothing more.