Harry went to bed early, anxious to face this final test. 'I will not fail, I will not fail' he insisted, ignoring the small inner voice that cried 'Not Hermione! Anyone but Hermione.'
The moon shone full and clear through the window, casting a bright light across the floor. Harry stared at it for so long, afraid to close his eyes .He had a horrible feeling that if he closed his eyes tonight, he would never open them again. But eventually his eyelids fluttered closed, and the bright green fire dimmed.
*********************
Downstairs in the common room, Hermione sat in silence, curled up on the chair, waiting for the cry she heard every night. She had no idea who it would be tonight, but she had her suspicions. She watched the fire, and whispered,
"Sweet dreams, Harry."
***********************
Harry stood by the cup, but he did not reach out.
"I won't" he murmured.
"You must." Hermione said.
"No. I won't." he said, stepping back. Hermione shrugged, though she looked scared and small.
"Then I'll go on alone." she said, and reached for the cup. Harry grabbed it to pull it away from her..but it was too late. They were both yanked through.
They landed in the graveyard that Harry knew so well by now. He looked behind him, to the figure approaching him.
"Run." Harry whispered urgently. "Run, Hermione, now, please!"
"No." insisted Hermione. "I won't leave you."
"Hermione, there's nothing you can do." Harry insisted, glancing back over his shoulder.
"I can be here!" she snapped.
"Hermione..." Harry looked back, to see the dark figure coming inexorably through the stones, coming so close so close, carrying death in its arms.
"No!" Harry called, but the voice still came, as it had come every night for the past two months, as it had come the night Cedric died, and still Hermione would not run, would not leave him.
'She's protecting me' he suddenly realised, and the thought cut through him. She would die for him
"Kill the spare."
Hermione stood there, her wand useless in her hand, neither she nor Harry able to move. She stood there, at the thing that was about to kill her, and raised her chin, defiantly, unafraid.
"Kill the bastard, Harry." She hissed, as Wormtail cried the spell, and the green fire flashed through the graveyard, illuminating every dead name on every cold stone.
"Hermione?"
But Hermione didn't move. Her eyes were wide, but empty. Harry knelt beside her, pushing the hair out of her eyes, feeling the skin cool beneath his fingers.
"Hermione?" he begged.
Behind him, the dream finally changed. Voldemort stood there, alone.
"Will you fight now, Potter?" he asked, his voice slow and rasping.
Harry's tears fell on Hermione and he welcomed them. If Fawkes' tears could cure him, surely his tears, the tears of one who truly loved her could cure her? But the tears formed and fell uselessly, and still Hermione was nothing more than a bundle of rags and flesh and bone in his arms. He pressed her close.
"'Mione?" he asked again, his voice so choked he could barely get her name out, and behind him he heard Voldemort begin to chant the spell that would kill him, but he didn't care because surely, surely if he stayed there, something, anything could be done to bring Hermione back, and grasping her with the last of his strength, he pulled her towards him as the green fire hit his back and tore through his flesh..
*************************
"Harry!"
Hermione woke suddenly, having fallen asleep in front of the fire. She listened carefully. She couldn't hear Harry calling..but Ron...Ron had shouted, and he was calling her name. She ran up the stairs.
Harry lay on the bed, soaked in his own sweat, rapidly cooling in the November night.
"Get Madame Pomfrey." Hermione ordered. Although Harry's eyes were open, he stared only at the ceiling, and wouldn't acknowledge either of them. He just lay there, shivering, staring at the canopy above, his face fixed in a mask of horror.
"Who did he dream of? He won't say. Who did dream of to make him like this?" Ron pleaded, almost in tears.
"Me, Ron." Hermione said shortly. "He dreamed of me. Now get Madame Pomfrey."
The moon shone full and clear through the window, casting a bright light across the floor. Harry stared at it for so long, afraid to close his eyes .He had a horrible feeling that if he closed his eyes tonight, he would never open them again. But eventually his eyelids fluttered closed, and the bright green fire dimmed.
*********************
Downstairs in the common room, Hermione sat in silence, curled up on the chair, waiting for the cry she heard every night. She had no idea who it would be tonight, but she had her suspicions. She watched the fire, and whispered,
"Sweet dreams, Harry."
***********************
Harry stood by the cup, but he did not reach out.
"I won't" he murmured.
"You must." Hermione said.
"No. I won't." he said, stepping back. Hermione shrugged, though she looked scared and small.
"Then I'll go on alone." she said, and reached for the cup. Harry grabbed it to pull it away from her..but it was too late. They were both yanked through.
They landed in the graveyard that Harry knew so well by now. He looked behind him, to the figure approaching him.
"Run." Harry whispered urgently. "Run, Hermione, now, please!"
"No." insisted Hermione. "I won't leave you."
"Hermione, there's nothing you can do." Harry insisted, glancing back over his shoulder.
"I can be here!" she snapped.
"Hermione..." Harry looked back, to see the dark figure coming inexorably through the stones, coming so close so close, carrying death in its arms.
"No!" Harry called, but the voice still came, as it had come every night for the past two months, as it had come the night Cedric died, and still Hermione would not run, would not leave him.
'She's protecting me' he suddenly realised, and the thought cut through him. She would die for him
"Kill the spare."
Hermione stood there, her wand useless in her hand, neither she nor Harry able to move. She stood there, at the thing that was about to kill her, and raised her chin, defiantly, unafraid.
"Kill the bastard, Harry." She hissed, as Wormtail cried the spell, and the green fire flashed through the graveyard, illuminating every dead name on every cold stone.
"Hermione?"
But Hermione didn't move. Her eyes were wide, but empty. Harry knelt beside her, pushing the hair out of her eyes, feeling the skin cool beneath his fingers.
"Hermione?" he begged.
Behind him, the dream finally changed. Voldemort stood there, alone.
"Will you fight now, Potter?" he asked, his voice slow and rasping.
Harry's tears fell on Hermione and he welcomed them. If Fawkes' tears could cure him, surely his tears, the tears of one who truly loved her could cure her? But the tears formed and fell uselessly, and still Hermione was nothing more than a bundle of rags and flesh and bone in his arms. He pressed her close.
"'Mione?" he asked again, his voice so choked he could barely get her name out, and behind him he heard Voldemort begin to chant the spell that would kill him, but he didn't care because surely, surely if he stayed there, something, anything could be done to bring Hermione back, and grasping her with the last of his strength, he pulled her towards him as the green fire hit his back and tore through his flesh..
*************************
"Harry!"
Hermione woke suddenly, having fallen asleep in front of the fire. She listened carefully. She couldn't hear Harry calling..but Ron...Ron had shouted, and he was calling her name. She ran up the stairs.
Harry lay on the bed, soaked in his own sweat, rapidly cooling in the November night.
"Get Madame Pomfrey." Hermione ordered. Although Harry's eyes were open, he stared only at the ceiling, and wouldn't acknowledge either of them. He just lay there, shivering, staring at the canopy above, his face fixed in a mask of horror.
"Who did he dream of? He won't say. Who did dream of to make him like this?" Ron pleaded, almost in tears.
"Me, Ron." Hermione said shortly. "He dreamed of me. Now get Madame Pomfrey."
