Author's Notes: This is probably the chapter that I changed the most. I completely re-wrote the entire night-Voldemort-was-defeated-and-Snape-died-dream, and I have to say that I like this version much better. If you don't, hey, that's okay. That's what reviews are for: slandering and the like. Yay!
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The Gryffindor common room was empty and dimly-lit; the flames of several of the torches had already been snuffed out, and though the fire was still flickering weakly, it too seemed on the brink of dying.
It was well past midnight and most of the students were fast asleep - troubled, perhaps, with anxieties about their upcoming graduation, or the results of their N.E.W.T's, which the entire class had taken recently. It was unlikely that they were dwelling on the same thing that Hermione Granger was as she sat alone in the common room. The other students had seen, if not properly heard, what had happened that night during dinner, and afterwards the school had been buzzing with rumours about it. Hermione doubted any of them took it seriously, however. She doubted that any of them realized what was going to happen that night.
Hermione felt extremely cold, despite the weak fire, and her hands were shaking so badly that she had taken to gripping the arms of the chair she was sitting in. She watched the portrait hole in fearful apprehension, trembling and sick with worry.
She let out the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding as the portrait hole swung open, and then was closed again by an invisible force. There was a moment of silence, and then a long-legged, red-haired, seventeen-year-old materialised before Hermione's eyes, followed by a tall, rather skinny boy with untidy black hair. Hermione stood up jerkily and rushed over to her two best friends, biting her lip so hard that she tasted blood.
"Well?" she whispered as they tossed aside the invisibility cloak. The rather small, silvery cloak had long ago become inadequate to cover all three of the growing teenagers; at most it would cover two of them. On this particular night, Harry and Ron had been the ones given the task of discovering what was happening outside of the common room, while Hermione had had to wait impatiently there for their return. But she had not protested; Hermione had not dared argue with Harry after seeing the look in his eyes, and Ron had nearly gone ballistic when she had suggested that she should be the one to accompany Harry.
"He's gone," Harry confirmed in a very hoarse voice. He was not trembling like Hermione, but his face was ashen and he seemed to be standing more rigidly than usual. Ron, however, looked as if he was going to be sick - even his freckles were pale. But he too stood straight-backed, and seemed to be trying to put on the same brave face Harry was wearing. "Dumbledore's gone, and the rest of the teachers were splitting up to guard the entrances, and…I think they're coming to guard the common room as well." Harry glanced over at the window. "The moon's out," he noted emotionlessly.
Hermione inhaled sharply. "Why…why is…Dumbledore…"
"I think he wants to be out there," Ron murmured in a low voice, "outside, that is, if…if You-Know-Who," he winced slightly, "tries to force his way in at the gates."
Hermione had started to rock back and forth on the balls of her heels, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Ron reached out a hand to stop her from rocking, and he kept the hand around Hermione's arm, holding on to her tightly. Harry did not move; he seemed to be lost in thought.
"Harry, we have to stay here," Hermione whimpered, "you heard Dumbledore, we have to stay here…you can't go looking for him…if it really will happen tonight…please, Harry, don't go looking for him…"
Harry did not answer; he only stared forward grimly, his jaw set, and Hermione's heart sank. She knew, from the look in his eyes, that nothing she said would stop Harry from doing something foolish tonight.
It had begun with a prediction that evening from the most unlikely person – Professor Trelawney. Like a zombie, slack-jawed and with vacant eyes, she had wandered into the Great Hall during tea and had begun speaking in a loud, harsh voice that was not her own. At first, her words had been rapid and unintelligible, even though the crowd in the Hall had fallen completely silent as she slowly walked down the aisles between the House Tables towards Harry. But as she drew closer and closer to Harry, her voice lowered to a whisper, and her words had been crystal clear.
"It will all end tonight, by the light of the moon. The Dark Lord will seek the Boy Who Lived, and two deaths will end the war. It will all end here, tonight, by the light of the moon…"
Trelawney's words echoed in Hermione's head, and she began to tremble more violently. Only she, Harry, and Ron had properly heard what Trelawney had said before she had collapsed, and it was they who had recounted the prediction to an extremely grave-looking Dumbledore immediately afterwards. As night had fallen, all students had been banished to their common rooms. Refusing to just sit there and wait for Voldemort to show up at the castle, Harry had been the one to grab the invisibility cloak with the idea of going to see what the teachers and Dumbledore were doing to prepare.
"Harry, don't you see?" Hermione choked out. "If you go, you'll both d-die…you and…and Him…"
"But it will all end," Harry reminded her grimly, "the war will be over." And without another word, he spun around and disappeared up the staircase to the boys' dormitories.
A pale Ron turned to look at Hermione, bewildered. "Where's he – "
But the next second he was cut off as Hermione flung her arms around his neck and clung to him, quivering violently. Ron hugged her back, holding her tightly to him, his body shaking as well.
"It's okay…the teachers…they won't let anything happen," Ron said in a broken voice. He did not sound remotely convincing.
"Harry can't – he won't," she whispered, her breath hitching.
"He will," Ron muttered despondently.
They were both silent for a few seconds, clinging to each other. Then Ron quite abruptly broke away from Hermione, his eyes blazing with sudden determination. "But I'll be damned if he does it alone. We're going with him this time."
Hermione at first could only stare at him, but then she found herself slowly nodding, feeling determination flood through her as well. "Right…he…he's not going to do it alone…"
"Hermione," Ron said with sudden hastiness. He gripped her shoulders and stared at her with the most burning, urgent look he had ever given her. "Hermione, I just…if we do…I want…want you to know – "
Without any warning, Ron fervently pressed his lips to Hermione's, and then broke away just as quickly. "That," he said breathlessly as Hermione stared at him, astounded. His pale face was suddenly very flushed. "I just want you to know…that."
"I'm going," came Harry's emotionless voice from the stairs. Hermione and Ron whirled around to see him standing there, Firebolt in hand. "I'm going down to the gates, if that's where Dumbledore is. I'm not letting him wait there for Voldemort while I sit up here. I'll fly down."
"Harry, you're not going alone," Hermione said firmly, though her head was reeling after what had just happened. To her surprise, however, her voice sounded clear and determined.
"We're coming with you this time, mate," echoed Ron resolutely, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "This time we'll…we'll face him…together."
Harry looked as if he was going to protest, but quite suddenly he let out an agonized yell of pain and clapped his hands to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut. Alarmed, Hermione and Ron both rushed to his side as he continued to cry out in pain.
"He's – here," Harry managed to get out between clenched teeth, clawing at his scar.
"Here? In the castle?" Ron had gone extremely pale again. "But…how, that's impossible – "
"Rules don't matter to him," said Harry hoarsely, straightening as the pain in his scar seemed to subside. His eyes watered, however, and his fists were clenched. "He'll have found a way…"
Hermione did not even remember pulling out her wand. "Where, Harry?" she demanded. She was still trembling, but her eyes were narrowed and her jaw was set. She and Ron had made their decision, and there was no turning back now.
"Dungeons," Harry said through gritted teeth. He eyed both Ron's and Hermione's drawn wands, but even he seemed to know that there was no use in protesting or arguing. They were determined to come with him. "If we hurry, we can make it there before the teachers come up here to guard the portrait hole."
"Should we take the cloak?" Ron asked quietly.
"There's no point," Harry answered, shaking his head and wincing slightly again, as if his scar hurt when he moved his head.
"Then…then let's go," Hermione said in a small voice. "Together."
Professor Granger bolted upright in bed, her eyes flying open and her heart pounding against her ribs. She felt sweat trickling down her forehead; it had soaked her nightdress and her bed sheets. Hermione shivered, thankful that something had awoken her. The second half of her recurring dream was always the most disturbing part…his dying shrieks…and the smell…
Taking deep, calming breaths, Hermione swung her legs over the edge of her bed, feeling her nightdress stick to her flushed, heated skin. Slowly she walked to her bathroom to pour herself a drink of water. As her parched, dry throat gratefully greeted the cool liquid, Hermione glanced at her wand, lying by her bedside table; it would have been easier just to conjure up a glass of water while still in bed, but somehow the familiar, Muggle routine was comforting to the young witch.
Her heart having slowed, Hermione strode back to her bed, now feeling wide awake. The nightmare came often; it was nothing new to Hermione, but she felt disturbed by its presence just the same.
Trelawney's prediction had been right; there had been two deaths that night. But contrary to what Hermione had thought, the two deaths in question had not been Harry's and Lord Voldemort's – it had been Snape's and Lord Voldemort's. Snape's sacrifice had not been out of love, like Harry's mother's had been, but because of the hate that Snape had always harboured for Harry, and his father, the sacrifice had been extremely powerful in a different way. Snape had put aside his personal feelings and had done what was right. And, true to Trelawney's word, the war had ended that night.
Hermione had made a choice to help Harry, and because of that she had witnessed the war's gruesome end, the destruction of Lord Voldemort. In fact, she had participated in it. There had been countless times over the past several years, usually when she awoke from a nightmare, that Hermione had wished that she had not gone with Harry and Ron that night. But this time, for some reason, she was suddenly very glad that she had.
Hermione sighed heavily. She had not had the dream in a long time, perhaps because she had been so exhausted most nights that she had immediately sunk into a deep, dreamless sleep, or perhaps because she had, as Ron had so eloquently put it, 'gotten over it.' Hermione realized that the last several months had been an endless exercise in conquering her fear of Voldemort returning, and of getting over what had occurred seven years ago in the dungeons. From allowing Ron back into her life, to sifting through endless books on the Dark Lord to complete their 'suspect list', Hermione had repeatedly braved her greatest fears.
But then what had caused her to have the nightmare tonight?
Agreeing with herself again that she thought too much, Hermione settled down to return to sleep, surprised at how cool and collected she had remained after the nightmare. This was probably because she had not experienced the worst part - she had been awakened before she could re-live them crying out those two words…
Hermione bolted upright with a start. What had awoken her? She was such a deep sleeper that she rarely woke up in the middle of the night without a reason.
A faint scuffling sound, coming from the hall outside her room, suddenly met Hermione's attentive ears. Her eyes widened in fear, and her heart began to speed up again. Trembling slightly, Hermione slipped out of bed yet again and snatched her wand off the bedside table. Summoning her courage, she crept to the door of her bedroom and listened carefully.
There it was again - the unmistakable sound of someone creeping around in the corridor. Hermione glanced at the watch on her wrist, which she rarely removed, even to sleep. It was nearly four o'clock in the morning. She pressed her ear against the door, still listening intently. The young professor almost dismissed the sound as one of the staff members going to get a late-night snack – Arden Roberts often did, after all. But then Hermione quickly warned herself that one could never be too cautious, especially now.
Hermione briefly considered getting Ron, or perhaps Professor McGonagall - but
she soon realized that she couldn't very well leave to go get them with the
suspicious character in question stalking around right outside her bedroom door.
The sounds were getting fainter; whoever was moving around was most likely
proceeding down the corridor, their back to Hermione's room.
Fingering her wand, and drawing a deep breath, Hermione made a quick decision. It was now or never; at least right now she would have the element of surprise. Praying that it was indeed Professor Roberts out to get a midnight snack, Hermione threw open the door and pointed her wand at a shadowy figure's back, suddenly feeling very foolish standing there in her white nightdress.
"Don't…" Hermione breathed, gripping her wand tightly, "…move."
The figure froze, their body going rigid. Confident that she had him or her right where she wanted them, Hermione took a tentative step forward. Then, in an unexpected and splendid display of agility and speed, the mysterious stranger twisted to face her and drew their wand, all in the same fluid movement.
"Petrificus totalus!" a deep male voice hollered at the same time that Hermione shrieked, "Arettementa!"
Hermione's reflexes kicked in far faster than her brain did, and she jumped to the side to avoid getting hit by the blinding jet of green light that had erupted from the stranger's wand. Similarly, the intruder dropped to the ground and rolled forwards in order to avoid the blue blast that had burst forth from Hermione's wand.
Breathless, the two of them faced each other. Hermione was seeing stars; the emerald light had nearly blinded her. As she blinked a few times to clear her vision, the stranger spoke.
"Ah," the male voice said, now sounding strangely familiar. A hint of amusement was in his voice. "Should've known it was you. Who else uses Arettementa?"
The voice resounded in Hermione's ears. Suddenly, a voice from her nightmare
echoed in her head. It was eerily similar to the one which had just hollered a
curse that could have frozen her body.
"But it will all end…the war will be over…"
As if on cue, the moon burst through a cluster of clouds, and moonlight suddenly flooded the corridor through the windows lining it. Hermione's eyes raked the stranger's features, now illuminated by the moonlight. She noted untidy black hair, green eyes, and a smooth, boyish face, marred only by a long, nasty-looking scar beneath his left eye. Black stubble was growing on his chin, and he wore an impish grin. To match the scar beneath his eye was the infamous, lightning-bolt shaped one on his forehead.
"Oh…oh my…" Hermione whispered, her eyes widening in recognition. She dropped her wand in shock. "Harry!" she shrieked, flinging herself at her old friend and nearly knocking him down in the process. "What are you doing here?! What are you doing here at four in the morning?! What are you doing here at four in the morning creeping around the staff bedrooms?!"
Hermione said all of this in one breath, and then suddenly narrowed her eyes and pulled away, examining the stubble on Harry's chin. "What is that supposed to be?" she asked darkly.
Harry Potter's face broke into yet another grin as he stroked his chin. "Facial hair, last time I checked," he responded with a grin.
Hermione stared in amazement at the grinning man before her. Physically, he was still recognizable as the skinny teenager from her dream, although he had filled out quite a bit and was rather broader in the shoulders. Yet there was something very different about him. With a start, Hermione realized that it was his attitude. Gone was the troubled boy who had emotionlessly decided that he was going to risk his life on the chance that Trelawney's prediction was right that fateful night seven years ago. Compared to in her nightmare, Harry looked strong, healthy, refreshed, and…happy. Hermione felt a sudden pang of guilt and shame. Harry, who had gone through much more than Hermione, had managed to put his dark and troubled final years at Hogwarts behind him. Harry, who had faced Voldemort on numerous occasions, barely escaping with his life each time. Harry, who was an Auror, and still pursued Dark wizards, still fighting for good despite all he had done already. The wave of guilt that came crashing down on Hermione nearly made her sick.
Harry was now looking Hermione up and down. "Wow, Hermione, you look…" he searched for a word, his eyes passing from Hermione's tousled hair (which looked bushier than usual, seeing as she had been tossing and turning in her bed for the past few hours), to her white nightdress (the right strap of it had slid down her shoulder when she had dodged the spell, and the nightgown now hung quite awkwardly on her), to her fuzzy pink slippers (a Christmas gift from Dumbledore, which she had grown rather fond of, though she would never admit it).
"Different…?" Harry finished, smiling.
Hermione found that she didn't care that she looked a mess. She was overcome with relief and happiness at finding her old friend alive and in one piece after all these years. The followers of Voldemort who would give anything to see him suffer a particularly painful death were many. Regret and guilt once again washed over her.
"Why did you try to curse me?" Hermione demanded, trying to ignore these feelings.
"I thought you were Ron's loony."
"I thought you were the loony!"
"It was the beard, wasn't it?"
"Harry…"
"I'm trying to grow a goatee, what d'you think?"
"What the bloody hell is going on out - " Ron Weasley's exhausted, annoyed voice cut in. He entered the corridor wearing a house-robe, and looked from Harry to Hermione, blinking. "Oh…hullo. 'Bout time you got here," Ron said casually to his partner.
"Enjoying your nice cushy teaching job while I have to run around picking up the slack?" Harry asked lightly, folding his arms.
"Why yes, I am," Ron responded coldly.
The two Aurors carefully regarded one another for a few seconds while Hermione anxiously looked on, and then simultaneously laughed. The two punched each other on the shoulder affectionately. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Boys," she murmured under her breath as the two of them chatted away. Nevertheless, her face abruptly broke into a bright smile as she shook her head at the two Aurors.
"Well, you got a far nicer greeting than I did," Ron told Harry matter-of-factly, grinning at Hermione.
Harry snorted. "And you told me she'd become a stuck-up McGonagall wannabe," he said with a laugh. Ron abruptly went red as Hermione slowly turned to glare at him.
"Thanks, Ronald," she said sarcastically.
"Well, it was true," Ron said simply and truthfully. Now Hermione was the one who felt her face burn. "But to hell with it," he added, shrugging, "all three of us are back together now, that's all that matters. Group hug!"
Harry and Ron were never really the types for signs of affection, yet they all seemed to suddenly be in a very silly, giddy mood. Hermione shrieked as the two tall, athletic men sandwiched her between them in a bone-crushing hug. "You're crushing me!" Hermione gasped out, unable to contain a small giggle as they let her go.
"Excuse me," interrupted an icy voice, which could have only belonged to Minerva McGonagall. All three adults froze, feeling as if they were disobedient students who had just been caught out of bed. "I was not aware that there was a staff pajama party tonight - " she abruptly stopped talking as she rounded the corner. Harry gave her a weak smile.
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said in surprise. "I…I didn't know you were…" her eyes traveled from Professor Weasley, to Professor Granger, and then back to Harry. All three of them were threatening to burst into huge grins at any moment.
The usually strict Transfiguration professor's eyes suddenly looked rather misty. "Well," she said presently, clearing her throat, "welcome back, Mr. Potter." With that, she hastily walked back down the corridor, towards her own chambers. As she disappeared into a door down the hall, the trio distinctly heard her sniffle loudly before the door snapped shut.
"Ah, McGonagall's just an old softie at heart," Ron said smugly. Harry barely contained a snort, and Hermione couldn't help but grin.
"Well, it is pretty late," Harry admitted, noticeably lowering his voice lest a not-so-soft McGonagall returned. "I didn't want to disturb anyone, but I Apparated here as soon as I could – "
"You can Apparate into Hogwarts?" interrupted Hermione, aghast.
"Auror's privileges," Harry explained simply.
Ron took one look at Hermione's flabbergasted face and snorted. "Guess that wasn't in Hogwarts: A History, eh Hermione?"
"Anyway, I was skulking about up here because I needed to find Ron so that he could get me a place to sleep - " Harry continued.
"Harry, wait," Hermione interrupted quietly, placing a hand on his arm. She seemed to have just really realized that Harry was, in fact, really there, and that this was not just some absurd continuation of her dream. "Why did you come? I thought you were in Canada?"
"I was," Harry replied shortly. Hermione was wise enough to not pursue the subject further after that. "And I came because…well, Ron owled me about Dumbledore – " Harry's face suddenly went very pale, " - and…I hurried over here, just in case he…" Harry trailed off, suddenly very interested in the wall behind Ron.
Hermione swallowed painfully and nodded. Her bottom lip started trembling and she quite unexpectedly burst into tears.
"Oh no, Hermione, don't cry…" Ron said, a note of panic in his voice as he awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. He looked to Harry, as if for help, but Harry looked just as much at a loss for how to handle a sobbing Hermione as Ron was.
"Shh, Hermione, McGonagall might come back," Harry tried.
"I'm sorry, it's…" Hermione hiccupped loudly, heedless of Harry's warning, "just that…I'm…so…glad…you're…here!" she wailed, unexpectedly hugging Harry tightly again. Ron raised an eyebrow. "You too!" Hermione cried, doing the same for him. The red-head looked exceptionally pleased. "I'm sorry, both of you! I'm sorry I didn't write and that I was such a…" Hermione said something which made both Harry and Ron's eyes widen in surprise, "…when you came here, Ron, and…and…just for being so stupid!" she declared passionately, stomping her foot. Hermione sniffled and took a few deep breaths, hiccupping periodically and feeling extremely immature. Frankly, though, she didn't care at the moment.
"You're not stupid," Ron assured her. He paused thoughtfully. "Stubborn, maybe, but not stupid."
Hermione tried to draw herself up in a dignified and offended way, but the attempt was ruined by another loud hiccup.
"I think someone needs to go back to bed," Harry said, the corners of his mouth twitching.
"Good idea," Hermione muttered, hastily clearing her throat and wiping her eyes. "Well…I'll talk to you two in the morning, then..."
"Right, Harry you can sleep on the floor in my room," Ron offered generously. Harry scowled but started following Ron towards his room nevertheless. He suddenly stopped, turned around, and then awkwardly and quickly hugged Hermione again. Hermione smiled into Harry's shoulder, and then sniffed again as he pulled away and followed Ron. Hermione hastily wiped the last few stray tears from her eyelashes and started towards her own bedroom.
"Oh, and Hermione…" Ron called casually, stopping. Hermione turned around expectantly. "Nice pajamas," Ron grinned, winking.
Hermione immediately felt heat rush to her cheeks. She haughtily pulled the right strap of her nightgown back over her bare shoulder and folded her arms to somewhat cover herself.
"And I'm sure your maroon plaid pajamas are equally attractive under there," she replied scathingly, gesturing to Ron's night-robe.
"Oh no," Ron responded mildly. "I sleep in the nude."
And with that, he cheerfully strode away, Harry holding his stomach to keep from laughing as Hermione's jaw dropped.
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*Snicker* That is so my favourite line.
I wrote this review song for the Sugar Quill…to the tune of…yes, Backstreet's Back. Enjoy.
Everybody…yeaaaaaah…
Hope you're happy…yeaaaaaah…
Everybody…hope you're happy tonight,
'Cause Harry's back, all right!
Oh my God, Harry's back again,
Everyone's glad, so dance and sing!
If you liked the chapter, then show me now,
Gotta question for you better answer now…yeah…
Was it original? Yeaaaaah…
Was this chap. the best one? Yeaaaaaah…
Was it se –
Wait a second, now! This is a PG-13 fic! None of that! Stupid Backstreet Boys…
Everybody…yeaaaaaah…
Hope you're happy…yeaaaaaah…
Everybody…hope you're happy tonight,
'Cause Harry's back, all right!
Now throw your hands up in the air,
Harry's back with his untidy hair!
If you want some more, let me see you review,
'Cause I'd really like to hear from you!
Yeaaaaaaaah…