Thanks to Lili, astralalex, Lady Evanescence, Cassa-Andra, Pandora15, Tracy, Alli, Helga243, DayOwl, Phoenix Tears Type 6, StarGazer, Jeanne, Animegirl18 aka Hoshiko, wesleyian-freak, and potterfan2229 for the reviews! Feedback soothes the soul.

Astralalex- to answer your question this is definitely NOT Snape/Harry slash. I'm a Harry/Draco fan myself. The idea of Snape/Harry disturbs me, at least while Harry is still a teenager.

Chapter 2- Um?

Harry circled the Quidditch Pitch, high above the other players. He was searching for the snitch. He HAD to get to it before Malfoy did. He watched as Malfoy dodged a bludger, then returned to sweeping his eyes over every inch of the pitch. When his eyes came back to Malfoy the Slytherin went into a dive so steep it looked suspiciously like a Wronski Feint.

At the last second the boy pulled up but did not reach for the snitch or stop his broom. Instead he took off out of the pitch and was out of sight in moments. The crowd gasped at this odd behavior, but fell silent at the sight of the dark hooded figures slowly drifting toward them. Dementors. Harry could feel the heat draining from his body. He fought the cold and the waves of terror washing over him and tried to summon a happy memory to create his Patronus.

He reached into his robes for his wand, but it was gone. He watched in horror as the dementors drifted over the crowds. They seemed to be searching for something. Or someONE. Harry struggled to stay on his broomstick as one of the dementors stopped before Hermione. She was frozen with fear.

Harry tried to fly to her but could barely think clearly. Images of his parents screaming, of Sirius sliding through the veil, were nearly overwhelming him. The dementor reached out a cold, dead hand to grasp Hermione by the throat. It brought her closer and Harry could see it was preparing to administer the final kiss. He HAD to stop it. Everyone was frozen. There was no one else to help Hermione.

He concentrated all his efforts onto willing his broom to move. It slid slowly forward and Harry almost cried with relief. He was still so far away though. The dementor seemed to be moving in slow motion. So did Harry. Then Harry felt the cold increase and realized the other dementors were circling closer to him. His broom stopped. He was frozen now too.

The world went black for a moment and when he could see again the dementor was lifting its head and lowering Hermione to the stands. Looking in her eyes Harry knew that he was too late. They were empty. She looked like a zombie. The dementors drifted away, which allowed Harry to recover and speed toward Hermione. He grabbed her and looked into her face, but she was empty. He was too late.

He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her bushy hair as the tears came. He felt arms surround them both and a wet face press into his neck. He shook with the force of Ron's sobs as he struggled for breath. He felt air explode from his lungs at the sound of a high pitched, terrible keening noise.

He lifted his head from the cushion of Hermione's shoulder to find the source of such a horrible sound. The noise became louder and clearer; he could now distinguish the sound as one word being screamed again and again. "HERMIONE!!!!!!" Suddenly he realized that it was him that was screaming.

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, still screaming Hermione's name. He was covered in sweat, panting, and crying. He grabbed the trashcan from beside the bed and retched repeatedly until there was nothing left in him. Then he curled on his side and tried to stop shaking.

He was thankful for the special silencing charm Fred and George had sent him, somehow knowing he would need it. He would hate for the Dursley's to see him like this. Besides, no matter what Dumbledore said, they would have kicked him out of Number 4 Privet Drive if he had woken them up with his screams. Especially three nights in a row.

He almost knew what to expect now. After the first night, when he had dreamed of Ginny Weasley dying a slow and painful death at the hands of Lucius Malfoy, he had kept a trash can by the bed to avoid having to clean the vomit off the floor.

After watching Ron's torture and mutilation by Death Eaters he had given up on the idea of sheets and blankets. The sour smell clung to them and Aunt Petunia would be suspicious if suddenly his sheets were dirty on a daily basis.

He lay on the bare mattress now taking deep breaths and trying to remove the images of Hermione receiving the Kiss from his mind. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. He couldn't bear to watch more people he cared about dying. . . or worse. Even if they were just dreams. Only Harry knew they weren't just dreams. They were "gifts." From Voldemort.

However hard Harry tried to clear his mind each night it never seemed to work. He had been reading the book Snape had given him and had discovered that summoning a happy memory, as when using a Patronus spell, was sometimes helpful in Occlumency as well. He had been trying, but too many of his happy memories led him into remembering other things. Like the image of Sirius knocked to the floor by Bellatrix's curse, sliding. . . sliding. . .

Out of nowhere a small box appeared before Harry's eyes. It was sitting on the mattress in front of his tear soaked face. It surprised him so much he let out a yell and promptly fell off the bed.