A Dream Too Real
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations owned by J.K. Rowling and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Other citations will appear as necessary.
Author Note: Many thanks to Devora for her wonderful ideas! Yes, I know this chapter is slow. But it's just the beginning, so bear with me. This is also my first fanfic, so bear with me on that too. I am very open to constructive criticism and other ideas. If it needs work, tell me so. I also need beta readers, to any of you who are interested. Send me an e-mail and let me know.
He walked through the graveyard in the darkness of the night. Mist was swirling all around him, the air thick and hard to breathe. Graves stood lonely and long since visited, overgrown with weeds, the words etched on their cold faces slowly being eroded with time.
She had been taken this way, he knew. Dragged through the mud and muck, held tight by the burning arms he remembered so well. He could see their footprints fresh in the moist ground.
"Hermione!" he cried, his voice echoing across the sky. There was no answer. "Hermione, answer me!" His breath came faster now, with more urgency. He had to find her. He had to find her, before Voldemort did something unspeakable. He cried out one last time: "Hermione!" *** Harry bolted upright in his bed, drenched in sweat and his heart pounding. He glanced around the dormitory, and watched as his roommates slept on, their breath coming slow and steady. Ron let out a huge snore in the bed next to him. Harry was relieved; he hadn't cried out in his sleep like so many nights before. Lying back down, he stared up at the ceiling, thinking about his dream. It wasn't the first time he had dreamed something-or someone, had taken his girlfriend. However, it was the first time he had seen who it was. Voldemort. Always, it was Voldemort, taking from him whatever he loved most. First, it had been his parents. Now, it was his girlfriend. Harry knew that sleep wouldn't be coming to him anytime soon, so as quietly as possible as to not wake the others, he slipped on his red Gryffindor robe and crept silently down the dormitory stairs to the common room. What he saw there startled him; he was not as alone as he thought he would be. A familiar bushy-haired head stuck up from the chair pulled close to the roaring fire. Harry smiled to himself, relieved he wouldn't be alone. "What are you doing awake?" he whispered, sitting in the chair nearest to his Hermione. She jumped at the sound of his voice, then leaned back into the soft material of the chair, smiling. Her face was lit by the firelight, making her features appear softer. "I couldn't sleep," she answered, running her finger around the edge of his face. "You had another dream," she added. It wasn't a question, but a statement. "No. No, I didn't," Harry lied. He hated worrying her, especially when she was so stressed already, what with her immense workload, and her parents' marital problems. "Yes you did. I can see it in your eyes. What was it about?" Harry shifted his bright green eyes away. She was always able to read them, no matter how well he had his face disguised. "Nothing," he said hoarsely. "It was nothing. Why couldn't you sleep?" She kissed him lightly, catching him by surprise. The fire danced on, creating lively shadows against the wall. "Never mind why I can't sleep. Tell me, what was your dream about?" He kissed her in return, and took her in his arms. "You," he replied.
She pulled away, and stared him squarely in the face. "There's more to it than that. You wouldn't be down here if there wasn't." He shook his head, his dark tousled hair waving madly. "No, there isn't more to it. I just woke up and couldn't get back to sleep." His tone warned her to leave it alone. She knew how to read his voice, as well as his eyes. "So tell me, why are you awake?" Hermione was quiet for a minute, just resting in Harry's arms. She turned her head away. "I had a dream, too," she admitted, focusing her eyes on the fire, and not on his face. "About what?" Harry asked, resting his cheek on her hair. Again, Hermione hesitated. Did she really want to tell him? Harry was more persistent than she was.he'd keep asking if she refused. "Voldemort," came her small voice. She sounded tired, and strained. Before he could say anything, she continued. "He took me while I was sleeping, and bound and gagged me. I tried fighting back.but he just held on stronger. His fingers burned my skin. I tried calling for you, but I was gagged too tight. Then he dragged me through an old graveyard.I was so scared.and then I woke up." Harry felt his breath catch as she spoke. There's no way, he thought, No way we could've had the same dream. That's too.too unnatural. Too surreal. Harry tried speaking, but the sounds wouldn't come out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "It was just a dream," he said into her hair. It smelled of the strawberry shampoo she always used. "Dreams don't mean anything." He kissed her again, long and hard this time. But in his heart, he knew his words weren't true.
*** Hermione pecked Harry on the cheek one last time as she headed up the stairs to her dormitory. She tugged herself from his grasp, and smiled serenely. "I love you," she said, and turned her back and started up the stairs. The minute he was out of earshot, she whispered to herself: "I do love you, Harry Potter, and everything about you, but you are one damned no- good liar!" It was obvious he was lying about the dream. Hermione prided herself on knowing him better than that. In fact, she knew him better than anyone else-Ron, Ginny, even Sirius. She had known him since they were eleven, and had dated him since they were fifteen. Now, at seventeen, his thoughts were her thoughts. His feelings were her feelings. Entering the dormitory and shutting the door silently behind her, she pulled her wand from her robes. "Lumos," she whispered, and used the tiny light to help her see as she drew down her bed covers. Lavender Brown snorted and rolled over, making a great deal of noise two beds over. Crawling in bed, (and hissing "Nox," to put out her wand) Hermione thought some more about her small conversation with Harry. She had felt his body stiffen up next to her when she mentioned what her dream was about, and she took that as a sign that he had had the same dream. She was at the top of every class, and had been since first year. She wasn't stupid. And she certainly wasn't naïve. Hermione knew when she was being lied to, especially when it was by her own boyfriend. But on the other hand, she knew that Harry was only trying to protect her from worrying. She had so much going on right now. She had, once again, made the mistake of signing up for one too many classes, and her parents were having problems at home. Divorce was definitely in the future. That was what got to her the most. The workload she could handle, but when her parents were splitting up after more than seventeen years of marriage-well, that was a bit of a strain. But Harry had really been pulling for her. How many nights had he lain with her, holding her as she cried? How many Quidditch practices had he skipped, to soothe her hurt? Hermione had pleaded with him not to risk the team's ability like that, she would be fine and would he please go to practice, but it was to no avail. And she could tell he really didn't mind being with her, either. Yes, Hermione could read Harry like a book. And I intend to let him know that, she yawned, right after I get a good night's sleep.. *** Ron Weasley propped himself up on his elbow, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He yawned, and stretched, attempting to roll over onto his stomach, but instead misjudged how much room there was left on the bed. A loud crash resounded through the room as he toppled to the floor. He lay there for a few minutes, embarrassed beyond all reason, when a smirking face with tousled black hair and bright green eyes appeared above him. "Smooth move," Harry laughed. Ron's face flamed a deeper red than it already was, rivaling the vividness of his distinct Weasley hair. "Oh, bugger off," he mumbled, accepting Harry's outstretched hand to help him to his feet. Once firmly on the ground, he straightened his red pajamas that had become cockeyed when he fell. They clashed horribly with his hair, and were the kind that looked as though a five-year old might where them. Might being the operative word.
Again, Ron noticed Harry was smirking. "What now?" he asked. Harry just shook his head and threw Ron his Quidditch practice robes. "Nice pajamas, Ron. Now get dressed!" Ron shook his head incredulously. "Quidditch practice? At this hour of the morning?" "Nice try, Ron. It's almost noon; you've slept the entire day. Now come on, we have to be out at the field before Malfoy gets there." They didn't say anything to each other as they walked out of the castle into the bright open air. The sun was shining, as it so rarely did, the sky was a clear blue, and the ground was hard. There was a slight breeze that waved Ron's hair and rippled the grass. They made their way to the field, Ron yawning occasionally as they did so. Ron was glad Harry didn't bother to strike up conversation-lately, he hadn't felt much like talking to him. Oh, it wasn't something Harry had done by knowing it; quite the contrary, actually. But it was something Ron couldn't help feeling a particular hate toward Harry for. "What's up, Ron? You haven't said anything since we left the castle," Harry's voice broke the silence as they neared the Quidditch field. 'What's up, Ron?' Ron thought to himself snidely. Don't you get the picture, Harry? I've only made it too obvious. What more does he want from me-a flowery speech about how much I'm in love with-. His thoughts were cut off as he saw her just across the field, sitting in the perfect place, so she could see their practice perfectly. His heart raced as he kept watching her. She was so.so perfect. "Ron? Ron.hello? Is anyone in there?" his sister, Ginny laughed, waving her hand in front of his face. "W-what? Ginny, get your hand out of my face!" he snapped, his eyes tearing away from the girl at the other end of the field. Ginny dropped her hand. "Sorr-ry," she said huffily. Harry threw him a questioning look as they began their practice. Ron shook his head slightly, as he kicked off into the air. He threw one last glance to Hermione's sitting place, and wondered why he had to be in love with his best friend's girlfriend.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations owned by J.K. Rowling and various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Other citations will appear as necessary.
Author Note: Many thanks to Devora for her wonderful ideas! Yes, I know this chapter is slow. But it's just the beginning, so bear with me. This is also my first fanfic, so bear with me on that too. I am very open to constructive criticism and other ideas. If it needs work, tell me so. I also need beta readers, to any of you who are interested. Send me an e-mail and let me know.
He walked through the graveyard in the darkness of the night. Mist was swirling all around him, the air thick and hard to breathe. Graves stood lonely and long since visited, overgrown with weeds, the words etched on their cold faces slowly being eroded with time.
She had been taken this way, he knew. Dragged through the mud and muck, held tight by the burning arms he remembered so well. He could see their footprints fresh in the moist ground.
"Hermione!" he cried, his voice echoing across the sky. There was no answer. "Hermione, answer me!" His breath came faster now, with more urgency. He had to find her. He had to find her, before Voldemort did something unspeakable. He cried out one last time: "Hermione!" *** Harry bolted upright in his bed, drenched in sweat and his heart pounding. He glanced around the dormitory, and watched as his roommates slept on, their breath coming slow and steady. Ron let out a huge snore in the bed next to him. Harry was relieved; he hadn't cried out in his sleep like so many nights before. Lying back down, he stared up at the ceiling, thinking about his dream. It wasn't the first time he had dreamed something-or someone, had taken his girlfriend. However, it was the first time he had seen who it was. Voldemort. Always, it was Voldemort, taking from him whatever he loved most. First, it had been his parents. Now, it was his girlfriend. Harry knew that sleep wouldn't be coming to him anytime soon, so as quietly as possible as to not wake the others, he slipped on his red Gryffindor robe and crept silently down the dormitory stairs to the common room. What he saw there startled him; he was not as alone as he thought he would be. A familiar bushy-haired head stuck up from the chair pulled close to the roaring fire. Harry smiled to himself, relieved he wouldn't be alone. "What are you doing awake?" he whispered, sitting in the chair nearest to his Hermione. She jumped at the sound of his voice, then leaned back into the soft material of the chair, smiling. Her face was lit by the firelight, making her features appear softer. "I couldn't sleep," she answered, running her finger around the edge of his face. "You had another dream," she added. It wasn't a question, but a statement. "No. No, I didn't," Harry lied. He hated worrying her, especially when she was so stressed already, what with her immense workload, and her parents' marital problems. "Yes you did. I can see it in your eyes. What was it about?" Harry shifted his bright green eyes away. She was always able to read them, no matter how well he had his face disguised. "Nothing," he said hoarsely. "It was nothing. Why couldn't you sleep?" She kissed him lightly, catching him by surprise. The fire danced on, creating lively shadows against the wall. "Never mind why I can't sleep. Tell me, what was your dream about?" He kissed her in return, and took her in his arms. "You," he replied.
She pulled away, and stared him squarely in the face. "There's more to it than that. You wouldn't be down here if there wasn't." He shook his head, his dark tousled hair waving madly. "No, there isn't more to it. I just woke up and couldn't get back to sleep." His tone warned her to leave it alone. She knew how to read his voice, as well as his eyes. "So tell me, why are you awake?" Hermione was quiet for a minute, just resting in Harry's arms. She turned her head away. "I had a dream, too," she admitted, focusing her eyes on the fire, and not on his face. "About what?" Harry asked, resting his cheek on her hair. Again, Hermione hesitated. Did she really want to tell him? Harry was more persistent than she was.he'd keep asking if she refused. "Voldemort," came her small voice. She sounded tired, and strained. Before he could say anything, she continued. "He took me while I was sleeping, and bound and gagged me. I tried fighting back.but he just held on stronger. His fingers burned my skin. I tried calling for you, but I was gagged too tight. Then he dragged me through an old graveyard.I was so scared.and then I woke up." Harry felt his breath catch as she spoke. There's no way, he thought, No way we could've had the same dream. That's too.too unnatural. Too surreal. Harry tried speaking, but the sounds wouldn't come out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "It was just a dream," he said into her hair. It smelled of the strawberry shampoo she always used. "Dreams don't mean anything." He kissed her again, long and hard this time. But in his heart, he knew his words weren't true.
*** Hermione pecked Harry on the cheek one last time as she headed up the stairs to her dormitory. She tugged herself from his grasp, and smiled serenely. "I love you," she said, and turned her back and started up the stairs. The minute he was out of earshot, she whispered to herself: "I do love you, Harry Potter, and everything about you, but you are one damned no- good liar!" It was obvious he was lying about the dream. Hermione prided herself on knowing him better than that. In fact, she knew him better than anyone else-Ron, Ginny, even Sirius. She had known him since they were eleven, and had dated him since they were fifteen. Now, at seventeen, his thoughts were her thoughts. His feelings were her feelings. Entering the dormitory and shutting the door silently behind her, she pulled her wand from her robes. "Lumos," she whispered, and used the tiny light to help her see as she drew down her bed covers. Lavender Brown snorted and rolled over, making a great deal of noise two beds over. Crawling in bed, (and hissing "Nox," to put out her wand) Hermione thought some more about her small conversation with Harry. She had felt his body stiffen up next to her when she mentioned what her dream was about, and she took that as a sign that he had had the same dream. She was at the top of every class, and had been since first year. She wasn't stupid. And she certainly wasn't naïve. Hermione knew when she was being lied to, especially when it was by her own boyfriend. But on the other hand, she knew that Harry was only trying to protect her from worrying. She had so much going on right now. She had, once again, made the mistake of signing up for one too many classes, and her parents were having problems at home. Divorce was definitely in the future. That was what got to her the most. The workload she could handle, but when her parents were splitting up after more than seventeen years of marriage-well, that was a bit of a strain. But Harry had really been pulling for her. How many nights had he lain with her, holding her as she cried? How many Quidditch practices had he skipped, to soothe her hurt? Hermione had pleaded with him not to risk the team's ability like that, she would be fine and would he please go to practice, but it was to no avail. And she could tell he really didn't mind being with her, either. Yes, Hermione could read Harry like a book. And I intend to let him know that, she yawned, right after I get a good night's sleep.. *** Ron Weasley propped himself up on his elbow, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He yawned, and stretched, attempting to roll over onto his stomach, but instead misjudged how much room there was left on the bed. A loud crash resounded through the room as he toppled to the floor. He lay there for a few minutes, embarrassed beyond all reason, when a smirking face with tousled black hair and bright green eyes appeared above him. "Smooth move," Harry laughed. Ron's face flamed a deeper red than it already was, rivaling the vividness of his distinct Weasley hair. "Oh, bugger off," he mumbled, accepting Harry's outstretched hand to help him to his feet. Once firmly on the ground, he straightened his red pajamas that had become cockeyed when he fell. They clashed horribly with his hair, and were the kind that looked as though a five-year old might where them. Might being the operative word.
Again, Ron noticed Harry was smirking. "What now?" he asked. Harry just shook his head and threw Ron his Quidditch practice robes. "Nice pajamas, Ron. Now get dressed!" Ron shook his head incredulously. "Quidditch practice? At this hour of the morning?" "Nice try, Ron. It's almost noon; you've slept the entire day. Now come on, we have to be out at the field before Malfoy gets there." They didn't say anything to each other as they walked out of the castle into the bright open air. The sun was shining, as it so rarely did, the sky was a clear blue, and the ground was hard. There was a slight breeze that waved Ron's hair and rippled the grass. They made their way to the field, Ron yawning occasionally as they did so. Ron was glad Harry didn't bother to strike up conversation-lately, he hadn't felt much like talking to him. Oh, it wasn't something Harry had done by knowing it; quite the contrary, actually. But it was something Ron couldn't help feeling a particular hate toward Harry for. "What's up, Ron? You haven't said anything since we left the castle," Harry's voice broke the silence as they neared the Quidditch field. 'What's up, Ron?' Ron thought to himself snidely. Don't you get the picture, Harry? I've only made it too obvious. What more does he want from me-a flowery speech about how much I'm in love with-. His thoughts were cut off as he saw her just across the field, sitting in the perfect place, so she could see their practice perfectly. His heart raced as he kept watching her. She was so.so perfect. "Ron? Ron.hello? Is anyone in there?" his sister, Ginny laughed, waving her hand in front of his face. "W-what? Ginny, get your hand out of my face!" he snapped, his eyes tearing away from the girl at the other end of the field. Ginny dropped her hand. "Sorr-ry," she said huffily. Harry threw him a questioning look as they began their practice. Ron shook his head slightly, as he kicked off into the air. He threw one last glance to Hermione's sitting place, and wondered why he had to be in love with his best friend's girlfriend.