By Tegan
Echoes
Chapter 2: The Unknown
That night, Hermione's sleep was restless. She had a tight, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, as if something important were on the horizon, but could not be realized. The feeling was much like the one she had when a word played on the tip of her tongue, yet not allowing itself to be said.
She rolled out of bed and began pacing her room trying to fit the empty pieces together. Nothing was amiss, yet everything felt wrong.
She threw on her dressing gown and fluffy slippers and made her way down to the kitchens. She hoped that a cup of nettle tea would calm her nerves. She did not worry about dressing formally, since the castle was almost barren except for three or four teachers and a similar number of students.
Hermione strolled through the corridors taking in the warm Christmas atmosphere. The armor softly hummed, "Silent Night," while the green holly and mistletoe hung lightly on the walls. She was already beginning to feel more at ease and silly for her unknown anxiety.
As she passed the Entrance Hall, hundreds of holiday candles lit her way. The effect was lovely, the light gently reflected off the decorative glass bulbs and icicles twinkling the trees like colorful stars in the sky.
Her spirits were much improved, as she tickled the pear and the painting swung open. She was surrounded by little green creatures wearing Hogwart's tea cozies. Enormous eyes looked at her eager to please. The house-elves currently had less to do because the majority of students and faculty had gone home. Any rational person would have been pleased to have their burden eased. The house-elves however, after only a few hours of serenity, were feeling the effects of lack of work and were delighted when Hermione came to them. They not only instantly honored her request for tea, but begged and coaxed her to allow them to do more.
"Just tea thanks," Hermione replied graciously. "You house-elves deserve a day to relax."
"Oh, no Miss," one silly little creature squeaked, "We is not liking days off."
"Dobby is only one to take off today Miss. He is not a good house-elf, noooo." His big ears sank low, slapping his face as he shook his head fervently.
Hermione bowed her head in surrender as she sat down on the couch in front of the roaring fire and sipped her hot tea. The house-elves were slaves, yes, but they definitely enjoyed their bondage.
As she watched the steam rise gently from the cup, Hermione's thoughts drifted to her life in the timeless universe. She used to sit in this very spot and watch Snape cook. His long fingers easily worked the food, mixing and blending spices and ingredients over a large pot. Though he never liked her close when he worked, he didn't mind her company. She certainly was far away now. She wondered if he had cooked since their return.
Hermione finished her tea and slowly made to return to Gryffindor Tower.
She walked absently through the corridors. As she rounded her last corner, she saw Snape walking towards her. She noticed him an instant before he did her. He was deep in thoughtful contemplation watching the ground. He looked up in surprise, and their eyes met. He stared at her for a moment, his face becoming shuttered and blank. Before she could blink or open her mouth to speak, he turned sharply and without a word walked away. She could not fathom what his reaction to her being out past curfew would be, though this was far from anything she would have guessed.
Hermione unconsciously held her breath as she watched him vanish down the hallway. She stared silently in confusion. He hadn't reprimanded her for anything or spat a remark at her at all.
He had warned her that he would not venture to speak with her unless it was in the classroom, but his behavior was out of character even considering his promise.
A slight glimmer of hope ran through Hermione's mind that his feelings for her might be stronger than he acknowledged.
As Hermione laid in bed, Crookshanks' soft purrs vibrated her body, relaxing her. She wished, not for the first time, that she had the ability to read minds, or at least his mind.
~~~***~~~
Hermione woke up early on their first day of Christmas break to find Harry already out of bed looking through the common room window at the snow. He was staring, but didn't appear to be focused on anything. His features were haggard and worn. His pale skin looked sickly, and he had deep purple circles under his eyes. His hair was in a great state of disarray and he was rubbing his temple.
"What's wrong Harry?" She touched his shoulder.
He flinched back in surprise as if he hadn't realized she was there.
"Nothing, I didn't sleep much last night."
"Why don't you go back to bed?"
Harry suppressed a frustrated chuckle and wearily made to get up.
"Are you hungry? We should go to breakfast." He said as he trudged out of the room.
Hermione was worried, she could tell that something was very wrong.
The Great Hall was empty as they entered. It felt strange to see such a large area completely barren, yet the stillness was reminiscent of things past. A shiver of acknowledgement ran through Hermione.
She sat at her usual seat at the Gryffindor table as her plate magically filled with soft biscuits, sliced potatoes, and fried sausages. She picked up her knife to slice open her steaming biscuit, when she caught sight of how pitiful Harry looked. He absently muddled to his seat, across from her, and slouched down holding his head. He looked terrible, and he was hiding something from her. She could tell by the short sentences he used to avoid her inquiries. Harry hated complaining. He felt that by being alive, while so many others had died, he should not complain.
"Harry, please tell me what's wrong?" She leaned over and touched his arm with empathy trying to look into his big green eyes.
"I have a headache."
Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "If it's your scar, you need to go to Dumbledore."
"If I went to Dumbledore each time my scar hurt, I would be in his office everyday," Harry replied bitterly. He stopped and continued wearily, "Besides it's not so much my scar as lack of sleep. I had a horrible nightmare."
"That could be important. What was it about?"
"It was too bizarre. I'm sure it will be of no help."
"Like purple spotted aliens from Neptune bizarre?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.
Harry smiled slightly, "Almost. There was this woman, at least I think she was a woman. Really, I could only tell by her screams. I've never heard anything so awful, so agonizing. It made me sick."
Hermione swallowed hard.
Harry paused looking over at her, "It was so real. I could hear her bones cracking as she tried to escape and could feel her reaching out while she bled from pushing."
"What do you mean, pushing?" Hermione could not understand.
"I think she was trapped, molded into something. Her eye bulged out red with a skull-like nose and opened agonized mouth."
"Her eye?" Hermione asked reluctantly.
"Yes, I only saw one, and it was not in the correct place on her face. Her skin was woody, bark-like. I didn't recognize her, couldn't have, it was all too distorted. Voldemort's high shrill laugh woke me up. He was laughing at her pain."
Hermione sensed his tale was foreboding. She didn't know why. Many of his dreams had never come to pass. With a life as tumultuous as his, he was bound to have a nightmare or two that did not prophesize or relate directly to Voldemort's activities. This time however, Hermione sensed that his dream foretold a grim and horrid plan.
Harry picked at his food, separating his fried potatoes into several smaller lumps, but not actually eating any of it.
"Really Harry, I think this time it's important," she spoke soberly.
Hermione finally convinced Harry to speak with Dumbledore, and within a few minutes they were standing at the Gargoyles wracking their brains for names of sweets.
"Ju Ju Balls," Hermione guessed. The Gargoyles remained still.
"Peppermint Humbugs." Again nothing.
"Acid Pops, Sugar Slime, Malted Toads," the list was endless.
"Jelly Slugs," Harry shouted, and the Gargoyles opened to reveal narrow winding steps. Hermione cringed at the thought of such a candy.
Voices in heated conversation could be heard, as they slowly ascended the stairs.
"Damn it Albus, we have to do something," a familiar silky voice echoed.
"And what would you have us do Severus? We cannot act without purpose or reason. We can speculate and prepare, but no more."
Hermione froze for a moment. He was the last person she wanted to see. Her muscles tightened. She had yet to be in such a confined space with him since their return. Her mind raced trying to find excuses to have Harry go it alone, but finding none, she followed him into Dumbledore's office, to find Snape standing by the window.
"Aha, and two of our holiday guests have come to say hello," Dumbledore greeted the pair with a twinkle in his eye and offered them lemondrops.
Harry and Snape looked at each other disdainfully while Hermione found the headmaster's paintings and clutter quite interesting, carefully avoiding Snape's corner of the room.
Silence pervaded the room for a moment, until Hermione decided that she preferred as short a meeting as possible.
She focused her attention on Dumbledore and began, "Harry had a dream and his scar hurts."
Dumbledore raised his long white eyebrows with interest.
"My scar always hurts, but it feels a little worse, and I did have a dream. It's probably nothing. I don't want to worry or complain over nothing," Harry added.
"Then why are you wasting our time Potter?" Snape sneered.
Dumbledore looked at Harry. His expression became serious.
"I would like to talk with Harry alone, please." Dumbledore glanced at Snape as he spoke.
Snape opened his mouth, as if to protest, but thinking the better of it, only nodded his head silently and turned to move. He glared suspiciously at Harry as he crossed the room. Hermione was standing next to the door, so even with his quick strides, she beat him to the exit, and Snape was forced to walk behind her on the way out.
She should have let him go first. He would have been out of her presence, gone and she would not have had to deal with the feelings that his closeness brought up. Her bushy hair swept gently against his chest as she turned to enter the stairway. Hermione felt tingles of nervousness spread through her body. In such close quarters, she could feel his tall presence looming over her and smell his familiar scent. She found it difficult to swallow and impossible to speak.
Unbeknownst to Hermione, similar thoughts were going through her Potion Master's mind as he fought with all his willpower to keep from lightly lifting his fingers to her hair and robes.
~~~***~~~
Hermione anxiously waited in the common room for Harry's return. She would sit one moment, only to find herself pacing in front of the fireplace running her hands through her hair the next. She crossed her arms, flopping back into the soft chair. Crookshanks had joined her and sat watching, his head following her actions, until finally the portrait swung open.
"What happened? What did Dumbledore say?" Hermione bolted from her chair in anticipation.
"Nothing much, what could he say?" Harry said simply as he walked to the stairs.
He sighed, "I need to go to bed for a while," and slowly made for his dormitory.
Harry slept the whole day, missing dinner. Reasoning that he hadn't eaten much breakfast, Hermione went to the kitchens for sandwiches to bring to him up in his room.
"Hello," she knocked. "Female to enter...," Hermione warned before entering Harry's dorm room.
As she slid through the doorway cautiously, she noticed Dean Thomas lying on his bed with an opened book. He looked up and smiled deviously.
"Head Girl breaking the rules, I see." Dean could be obnoxious sometimes.
"As Head Girl, I have the right to enter any Gryffindor room that I so deem necessary."
Dean rolled his eyes at her haughty response and went back to his book.
Harry leaned up on his elbows sleepily and smiled at her.
"Morning," she said. "Not quite morning though is it?" She sat down on the bed next to him. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," Harry looked over at Dean nervously. Hermione could sense that he did not want to talk here. She knew Harry did not like to be singled out for his connection with Voldemort. Being recognized for his skills at Quidditch or his abilities as a wizard, that was fine, but fame due to his connection with Voldemort made him uneasy. Harry knew that he was not famous for anything that he could have controlled, but rather for his mother's love.
"I brought chicken and ham sandwiches. Let's go somewhere more private to eat," she whispered to Harry.
"All right, I feel like a walk anyway. I'll bring my Invisibility Cloak, just in case we don't get back by curfew." He stuffed the silvery flowing material into his book bag.
And so they were off.
They strolled through the halls in agreed silence until they reached Godric's Study on the ground floor of Gryffindor Tower.
There they sat on the rug by the fire placing the sandwiches on the floor in between them.
"I've always liked this room, it's so majestic." Harry said staring at a statue of a full sized lion in the corner.
Harry looked down at his food. He spoke cautiously, "I don't want to worry you. I don't want to worry anyone, but I have an awful feeling that something terrible is going to happen."
Hermione nodded, "I can feel it too. Like a tightening of my stomach when you spoke of your dream."
"I had the sense that Dumbledore grasped some meaning from my dream. I thought I could see it in his eyes for a moment." Harry breathed in deeply picking at the crust on his bread.
He continued, "Dumbledore said that all the signs have been pointing towards a big, climactic event. The Centaurs have warned him, but they can never give a straight answer. I'm not sure if even Dumbledore can make much sense out of their predictions."
Hermione smiled slightly thinking of the Centaurs' strange and ambigious prophecies.
"He said we must be prepared for the worst." Harry looked up at her, "Dumbledore has warned the Ministry, who have their Aurors on full alert, stationed at various towns and houses that might come under attack."
Dumbledore's words brought Hermione little comfort.
Harry threw his sandwich to the ground and began in a desperate voice, "Oh Mione, why do I feel like whatever move I make will be the wrong choice?"
"I think everyone is in a similar dilemma. We are in the midst of the darkest times in wizarding history, add to that the fact that we are on the verge of entering the adult world, where we will not be as sheltered from evil and danger as we are now. I know I, for one, am confused as to which choice is the wise and right one. Lord knows I've made some stupid one's already."
Harry looked up at her in disbelief, "You're far too smart to make a stupid decision."
Hermione wished he were right.
She cleared her mind and continued, "There was a Muggle poet who wrote, 'The world is too much with us; late and soon.' I think that it fits our situation right now. I'll lend you my copy when we get back."
Harry smiled faintly at her and they sat in silence for a while, looking at the remnants of the half eaten sandwiches.
"You know I love Ginny," Harry said not looking up from the floor.
"Yes."
"And if things were different...," he paused, "but with Voldemort, I could never endanger her by becoming involved."
His sadness quickly molded into anger as he spat, "It's all Voldemort's fault. The Death Eaters are evil, but without Voldemort, they would never act. Look at the Dementors. They are monsters, but at least they stayed at Azkaban before Voldemort's rise. Everything bad that has happened is because of Voldemort."
A loud, howling sound came from outside and the windows rattled. Hermione's eyes flashed toward the darkened sky expecting to find some terrible creature, but only to see snow whip by.
"Wow, the wind is really picking up outside," she said absently.
Suddenly, Harry cried out in pain collapsing onto the floor. He laid curled in a fetal position, clutching his forehead. Hermione leaned over him scared for her friend, only to hear the sound of glass crashing from somewhere in the castle.
** I should warn you that there will be some blood and violence in the coming chapters. Not too terrible, I hope.
**Also, Snape will be a primary character, but not until chapter 5. I wanted to build Harry into the story, so that I could play with his reactions to Snape and Hermione.