Regret
By Phire Phoenix Chan
One Shot
~*~
This fic is dedicated to Chibi Dragon for simply being great
And also to Callas-and-Ivy who is way more than just an online friend
~*~
Silent and quiet, a boy of about sixteen stepped onto Platform 9 3/4. He pushed the carriage with his trunk tiredly ahead of him, not really paying attention to where he was going. A bird case sat atop of his trunk, but it was empty. Rather, the familiar was gripping ths shoulder of the young boy rather tightly, and nibbling at his ear occasionally. There was a tired air to the boy's movements. His head hung, somewhat dejectedly, and his arms, even as they rested on the trolley, sagged and his eyes had a deadened look to them. He was the image of defeat.
The pattering of feet reached his ears. He did not need to look up to know who was approaching. He had heard that quick, jerky step and the confident stride many times before. Who else, but his two best friends? A shadow fell across him, and with a sigh, he forced a smile onto his face. Reluctantly, he glanced up, into faces that he knew so well, yet seemed blurry. He quickly ran a hand through his hair, smoothing the jet black locks away from his emerald eyes.
"Hey Hermione, Ron." His voice sounded tired, the forced cheerfulness just that - forced. Hermione's cinnamon eyes sparkled with an emotion he couldn't identify. It was a cross of happiness, apprehension, sorrow and ... something. Ron's expression was much easier to decode. He was happy to be back. It was an emotion shared by himself, Harry, sure enough. The red-head reached out to pat Harry on the shoulder, but it twitched and fell to the boy's side limply at the sound of a surly voice sounding from somewhere behind them.
"Well if it isn't the Bloody-boy-who-lived-yet-is-too-stupid-to-be-true." That drawl, too, was familiar, despite Harry's wish that he never met the owner of it. His face was burning up, but he resolutely kept his back turned. "Potter, Potter, Potter, when will you learn? You're helping the Dark Lord by even living." Inspite of himself, Harry was curious. But Ron's arm shot to his wand and he whipped around abruptly, hissing.
"Shut the hell up, ferret." Hermione showed no signs of admonishing him for cussing. Rather, she looked like she might be ready to slap him - again. Malfoy's eyes glinted, but that's all the reaction they received from the insult. At that point, Harry turned around, too. Dimly, he noticed that the pale boy was no longer flanked by his bodyguards. But before his brain could digest and analyze this puzzling piece of information, Malfoy took the parole again.
"Everywhere you go, people die, don't they. You spread misery of the worst kind. The Dark Lord doesn't even have to do any work, himself." A smirk slowly appeared on that spiteful face. "You might as well join him while you're - " He didn't finish that sentence, for at that point, he was knocked backwards with the force of three curses. Silent, but deadly. Without a word, the trio stepped over him and steered their trolleys towards the customary carriage. It was only because a curious guard stumbled across Malfoy's unconscious body that the insufferable git arrived at Hogwarts at all.
~*~
Malfoy's insult stung more than Harry let on. As he plastered on a happy front for his friend, his mind churned, processing those burning words. The more he thought about it, the more it ate him.
It was his fault, wasn't it? All of it...his parents wouldn't've been part of the prophecy...the Fidelius wouldn't've been necessary...Sirius wouldn't've gone to Azkaban...he'd still be alive...Cedric, too...
And Cho would be much happier. Remus Lupin wouldn't look so tired...life has put him through a lot...things that he no doubt could've overcome with a laugh...if only his friends had been by his side. The Grangers and Weasleys wouldn't be in constant danger. Percy would still be in the family. Fudge would've never had any reason to send Umbridge to Hogwarts...and if Firenze hadn't helped them, he would still belong to his herd.
It was funny how unreasonable a perfectly logical mind such as that of one Harry Potter could become when brooding. Two long months of mourning had dulled his senses, and he failed to see the gaps in his deductions. And those gaps would cost him dearly as the next thought flashed across his mind. He pushed it away at first, but it returned, with more conviction each time, until he had decided that the sentiment was a fact.
My life is not worth living.
~*~
Midnight found a shadow darting soundlessly around the school, hidden from the view of many through the use of a truly amazing material. It was silvery at glance, although you don't get to see its soft fibre a lot. For it is treasured by its owner, and only comes out of its hiding place when needed. And when it is needed, you usually don't see it.
After all, it's not called the Invisibility Cloak for nothing.
Harry's face was set in grim determination. His decision may have been rather hasty, but decisions such as these tended to be. He knew what he had to do, and he was prepared to do it. It was quite ironic how, after avoiding death for 16 years, he would suffer it by his own hand. And perhaps stranger still was the fact that he felt no fear at what he was about to do. He was sure that he would have no regrets.
And yet, the mind is more often than not crowded by the cloud of confusion after being in inactivity for so long and then hit with an issue that would be too important to put off until the next day. But important issues always seem to pop up RIGHT when you can't afford to have a dulled mind, don't they?
The wonder of Murphy's Law.
Maybe Mrs. Norris could've heard the soft footsteps that led up to the Astronomy Tower, had she been anywhere in the vicinity. As it turns out, Peeves was the only creature who was even anywhere near Harry, and it just so happens that he was too busy cackling about his latest 'ingenious' prank to pay any attention to the boy.
He thought of the envelope he had left for Hermione. It would curse anyone who tried to open it without consent. Hermione is the only one who was able to read it unharmed, and Ron could, too, providing Hermione passed it over willingly. It was a rather weak charm, easily breakable by most, but he doubted anyone would be interested in breaking the curse right then. They would be too busy trying to extinquish the fire that had been set to their hair and uncrossing their eyes.
He couldn't bring himself to smile, not even at the mental image of Draco Malfoy trying to pry open the letter. His facial features didn't appear up to the task. Instead, he sped up, heading ever steadily for the Highest point of Hogwarts.
~*~
A wind blew over the top of the tower. Harry was standing on the Balcony they used for obbserving the stars. More precisely, he was standing on the railings of the tower. He had abandoned his invisibility cloak. It was lying on the ground beside him, neatly folded. His wand was lying on top of that, as well as his glasses. He wouldn't need them anymore. With his left hand, he held on to the roof and looked down. The distance was great even to his bare eyes.
The wind came again, slightly stronger. It toyed with Harry, strewing him backwards and forwards. Pushing him slightly over the ledge, but then pulling him back again. It was a battle to that in Harry's mind.
He leaned forward...If he died, then nobody would get hurt at his hands.
He reeled in...but he would miss his friends.
Forwards...He would see his parents.
Backwards...He wouldn't see Ron or Hermione for a long time, yet
Forwards...Death would sure to be peaceful
Backwards...there was so much in life he hadn't experienced yet
Forwards...he could make peace with the dead, stop feeling guilty
Backwards...There were people - living people - who cared about him still
Forwards...His life was not worth living
Backwards...people expected him to live
Forwards.........
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His emotion turned from that of guilt to anger. Why did they expect him to live anyway? How could they believe that, while the greatest wizards of all time had not managed it, he, a sixteen-year old underage wizard, uncapable of even Apparating, could defeat Voldemort? How could they expect him to handle successive deaths without any hesitation? How could they just throw all their troubles to him?
Forwards.........
Subconsciously, he had been leaning forward. He was almost at an angle now. When he opened his eyes again, he gasped at how he swayed. But he had made his decision - He knew he wouldn't regret it.
Would he?
He took a step forward and plunged down...down...down...
As a painful death rushed up to meet him, his mind was scrambled. For the first time since Sirius' death, he seemed to be able to think clearly.
NO! He shouted soundlessly, panicky, as he flapped his arms uselessly in a vain attempt to stop time. This isn't supposed to happen!!!
Faintly, and in the distance, he thought he heard someone calling his name. Softly at first, then more urgent, but the volume stayed the same. The voice was familiar; Ron, perhaps, or Dumbledore. But he couldn't respond.
Why did I commit suicide? Why didn't I think things through?
You did, a nasty voice at the back of his head snapped. This is your choice, now live with it.
Shur up, Harry wanted to tell it. Shut up and leave me alone.
The voice laughed. Oh I'll leave you alone all right. You won't need me anymore. Not where you're going.
Fear arose in Harry.
He thought he wouldn't regret. He had been so sure of it. Yet now where the end was inevitable, he did - with all his heart.
No...he moaned. I don't want to die. I shouldn't've done this - this hurts more people than I would care to hurt - I'm not supposed to die - no...
I was supposed to tell Hermione I loved her - face to face, romantically, rather in a death announcing and grief bringing letter! We would have been happy together. We would've married, and had two kids. And we would've named them Lily and James. Ron was supposed to marry Lavendar, and live near us. He would play Quidditch for the Chudleys. I would've become an Auror. And Hermione, well, she could've become a reporter, or an Auror alongside me. Ginny would be our children's godmother, and ron their godfather. Perhaps Ginny would've married Seamus, or perhaps Neville.
As he envisioned what could have been, his despair simply increased.
No...this wasn't supposed to happen...why didn't I think this through...I don't want to die...I want to live....I want to help beat Voldemort...I want to...
Too late now, the voice sneered.
It was odd how just a moment ago, Harry deeply resented the world for thrusting the responsibility of Voldemort upon his shoulders, and yet now, he would be eager to take him on. If only it meant he oculd live.
He was dying a coward's death. And he knew, neither Sirius, nor James, nor Cedric would've liked that. He had always said he would die fighting - die a hero's death, protecting those he loved, just like his father. For no matter how unreasonable his father had been when he was young, he was still a role model. When had he decided he would take the easy way out?
A line he had read in a Muggle comic came back to him - Sometimes the way that seems the easiest is in fact hard and terrible.
Harry had not understood it the, but he did now.
If I could have one last chance...He thought miserably
He heard his name being called again. Louder this time. More clear. It was definitely Hermione.
It just had to be the one girl he loved who would see him plunge to death, didn't it?
And as momentum caught on and he sped further still towards the ground, he closed his eyes and wished for forgiveness. From Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, Dumbledore McGonagall, his parents, Sirius, Remus - anyone who cared about him, or at least pretended to.
But his last thought were the five words circling over and over, repeating themselves incessantly in his brain.
I don't want to die...I don't want to die...I don't want to die...
Someone grabbed him by the shoulder. He started, incredulous. He had fallen over half the distance, how could anyone still catch him? He squirmed uncomfortably. Then a soothing voice whispered
"Shh...Harry...it's all right...it's me, Hermione"
~*~
An unbeatable sense of dread in the middle of the night had pulled the Gryffindor resident bookworm out of her comfortable bed and into the boy's dormitory. Thankfully, the other four boys were asleep. She climbed into Harry's bed, sitting on the edge and just looking happily at the Boy Who Lived. The boy whom she loved.
When he began tossing and turning, moaning names, she cast a Silencio charm on the bed and carefully pulled the curtains of the four-poster closed. She moved closer to him, holding him in her arms in an attempt to cease his twitches. To see the strong boy so vulnerable was almost painful, but she could imagine only too well how he went through this every night.
Harry took a deep shuddering breath and sighed audibly. Hermione stared at him. There was a sense of foreboding on his face, before he turned over, groaning.
"I don't want to die...I don't want to die..." those words soft escaped Harry's lips, accompanied by a melancholy unlike any Hermioine had ever encountered before.
"Shh...Harry...it's all right...it's me, Hermione" Hermione whispered soothingly, stroking Harry's hair. She laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. She patted him on the back. She did anything she could think of to make her boy feel better. She had grown to be protective of him, and even more so when she realized she loved him more then her own life.
He cringed at her touch at first, but when she started speaking, relaxed visibly. When he had calmed down, peaceful was the image he created. He looked like a sleeping angel, devoid of worries. It was only too bad those worries had a very good grip on him.
Hermione was almost about to set him down and go back to her own bed when he stirred in her arms. Sleepy eyelids opened to reveal stunningly green eyes. In the moonlight that streamed through the translucent curtains, he looked to die for.
"Hermione..." he whispered. "Hermi, am I dead?" The note of resignation in his voice sent alarm shooting through her body. She tensed. "Hermi, I don't want to die...I want to live...I want to love...you...I'm dead, aren't I? You're a projection, aren't you?"
Hermione was too caught up in the last statement to notice what Harry had professed to her.
"Shh, Harry, it's all right." She told him quietly once again. "It's all right, everything's fine. I'm real, you're real. You're in your own bed, at Hogwarts, in your sixth year. Don't worry, it was just a dream..."
"Just...a dream?" Harry repeated, bemused. "A dream." It had seemed so real for him. He stared at the air, almost expecting to see his environment dissolve into mist and the ground approaching at lightning speed, ready to claim his life. "A dream." He said again, more to himself than to anyone else. "It was just a dream" He concluded firmly, trying to convince himself.
Hermione, who had been alarmed at first at his reaction, now smiled. "Yes, Harry, a dream." She wondered when she had become baby-sitter to this 5-year old child. But then, she mused, he hadn't had a childhood. So it's only natural he wanted to catch up when he was sixteen. That thought brought a twinkle to her worried eyes. "Don't worry, I'll stay here with you until you go to sleep." Harry jumped. Then he looked at her, as though seeing her for the first time.
"What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Miss Prefect?" A note of amusement crept into his voice as he stared at her accusingly. "Professor McGonagall would be enraged." Hermione chuckled softly and swatted at him with one hand.
"Come off it, Harry, or I will regret ever worrying about you."
"Aww...you worried about me? That's so sweet!" Harry teased good-naturedly, but inside his heart skipped a beat before speeding up.
"Of course." Hermione told him softly. "Now go to sleep, or I won't lend you my notes in History of Magic tomorrow."
Harry laughed and pecked her on the cheek. He ran his fingers through her hair before settling on her shoulder. "Thanks, Hermione. It means a lot to me." She held his gaze for a few moments longer before standing up and slipping out the door. Harry watched her go, delirius happiness in his eyes.
She worried about him. She actually thought of him.
Maybe he would've done better to tell her his feelings, but for now, he would be happy just being her friend.
He flopped onto his pilow and pulled the cover over.
He regretted his thoughts from dinner.
He did have a lot to live for.
One of them being cursing Malfoy beyond recognition first thing in the morning...
He yawned and closed his eyes.
Concealed in the walls, Hogwarts smiled. Deliver meaningful message hidden in dream, check.
~*~
The End
~*~
By Phire Phoenix Chan
One Shot
~*~
This fic is dedicated to Chibi Dragon for simply being great
And also to Callas-and-Ivy who is way more than just an online friend
~*~
Silent and quiet, a boy of about sixteen stepped onto Platform 9 3/4. He pushed the carriage with his trunk tiredly ahead of him, not really paying attention to where he was going. A bird case sat atop of his trunk, but it was empty. Rather, the familiar was gripping ths shoulder of the young boy rather tightly, and nibbling at his ear occasionally. There was a tired air to the boy's movements. His head hung, somewhat dejectedly, and his arms, even as they rested on the trolley, sagged and his eyes had a deadened look to them. He was the image of defeat.
The pattering of feet reached his ears. He did not need to look up to know who was approaching. He had heard that quick, jerky step and the confident stride many times before. Who else, but his two best friends? A shadow fell across him, and with a sigh, he forced a smile onto his face. Reluctantly, he glanced up, into faces that he knew so well, yet seemed blurry. He quickly ran a hand through his hair, smoothing the jet black locks away from his emerald eyes.
"Hey Hermione, Ron." His voice sounded tired, the forced cheerfulness just that - forced. Hermione's cinnamon eyes sparkled with an emotion he couldn't identify. It was a cross of happiness, apprehension, sorrow and ... something. Ron's expression was much easier to decode. He was happy to be back. It was an emotion shared by himself, Harry, sure enough. The red-head reached out to pat Harry on the shoulder, but it twitched and fell to the boy's side limply at the sound of a surly voice sounding from somewhere behind them.
"Well if it isn't the Bloody-boy-who-lived-yet-is-too-stupid-to-be-true." That drawl, too, was familiar, despite Harry's wish that he never met the owner of it. His face was burning up, but he resolutely kept his back turned. "Potter, Potter, Potter, when will you learn? You're helping the Dark Lord by even living." Inspite of himself, Harry was curious. But Ron's arm shot to his wand and he whipped around abruptly, hissing.
"Shut the hell up, ferret." Hermione showed no signs of admonishing him for cussing. Rather, she looked like she might be ready to slap him - again. Malfoy's eyes glinted, but that's all the reaction they received from the insult. At that point, Harry turned around, too. Dimly, he noticed that the pale boy was no longer flanked by his bodyguards. But before his brain could digest and analyze this puzzling piece of information, Malfoy took the parole again.
"Everywhere you go, people die, don't they. You spread misery of the worst kind. The Dark Lord doesn't even have to do any work, himself." A smirk slowly appeared on that spiteful face. "You might as well join him while you're - " He didn't finish that sentence, for at that point, he was knocked backwards with the force of three curses. Silent, but deadly. Without a word, the trio stepped over him and steered their trolleys towards the customary carriage. It was only because a curious guard stumbled across Malfoy's unconscious body that the insufferable git arrived at Hogwarts at all.
~*~
Malfoy's insult stung more than Harry let on. As he plastered on a happy front for his friend, his mind churned, processing those burning words. The more he thought about it, the more it ate him.
It was his fault, wasn't it? All of it...his parents wouldn't've been part of the prophecy...the Fidelius wouldn't've been necessary...Sirius wouldn't've gone to Azkaban...he'd still be alive...Cedric, too...
And Cho would be much happier. Remus Lupin wouldn't look so tired...life has put him through a lot...things that he no doubt could've overcome with a laugh...if only his friends had been by his side. The Grangers and Weasleys wouldn't be in constant danger. Percy would still be in the family. Fudge would've never had any reason to send Umbridge to Hogwarts...and if Firenze hadn't helped them, he would still belong to his herd.
It was funny how unreasonable a perfectly logical mind such as that of one Harry Potter could become when brooding. Two long months of mourning had dulled his senses, and he failed to see the gaps in his deductions. And those gaps would cost him dearly as the next thought flashed across his mind. He pushed it away at first, but it returned, with more conviction each time, until he had decided that the sentiment was a fact.
My life is not worth living.
~*~
Midnight found a shadow darting soundlessly around the school, hidden from the view of many through the use of a truly amazing material. It was silvery at glance, although you don't get to see its soft fibre a lot. For it is treasured by its owner, and only comes out of its hiding place when needed. And when it is needed, you usually don't see it.
After all, it's not called the Invisibility Cloak for nothing.
Harry's face was set in grim determination. His decision may have been rather hasty, but decisions such as these tended to be. He knew what he had to do, and he was prepared to do it. It was quite ironic how, after avoiding death for 16 years, he would suffer it by his own hand. And perhaps stranger still was the fact that he felt no fear at what he was about to do. He was sure that he would have no regrets.
And yet, the mind is more often than not crowded by the cloud of confusion after being in inactivity for so long and then hit with an issue that would be too important to put off until the next day. But important issues always seem to pop up RIGHT when you can't afford to have a dulled mind, don't they?
The wonder of Murphy's Law.
Maybe Mrs. Norris could've heard the soft footsteps that led up to the Astronomy Tower, had she been anywhere in the vicinity. As it turns out, Peeves was the only creature who was even anywhere near Harry, and it just so happens that he was too busy cackling about his latest 'ingenious' prank to pay any attention to the boy.
He thought of the envelope he had left for Hermione. It would curse anyone who tried to open it without consent. Hermione is the only one who was able to read it unharmed, and Ron could, too, providing Hermione passed it over willingly. It was a rather weak charm, easily breakable by most, but he doubted anyone would be interested in breaking the curse right then. They would be too busy trying to extinquish the fire that had been set to their hair and uncrossing their eyes.
He couldn't bring himself to smile, not even at the mental image of Draco Malfoy trying to pry open the letter. His facial features didn't appear up to the task. Instead, he sped up, heading ever steadily for the Highest point of Hogwarts.
~*~
A wind blew over the top of the tower. Harry was standing on the Balcony they used for obbserving the stars. More precisely, he was standing on the railings of the tower. He had abandoned his invisibility cloak. It was lying on the ground beside him, neatly folded. His wand was lying on top of that, as well as his glasses. He wouldn't need them anymore. With his left hand, he held on to the roof and looked down. The distance was great even to his bare eyes.
The wind came again, slightly stronger. It toyed with Harry, strewing him backwards and forwards. Pushing him slightly over the ledge, but then pulling him back again. It was a battle to that in Harry's mind.
He leaned forward...If he died, then nobody would get hurt at his hands.
He reeled in...but he would miss his friends.
Forwards...He would see his parents.
Backwards...He wouldn't see Ron or Hermione for a long time, yet
Forwards...Death would sure to be peaceful
Backwards...there was so much in life he hadn't experienced yet
Forwards...he could make peace with the dead, stop feeling guilty
Backwards...There were people - living people - who cared about him still
Forwards...His life was not worth living
Backwards...people expected him to live
Forwards.........
Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His emotion turned from that of guilt to anger. Why did they expect him to live anyway? How could they believe that, while the greatest wizards of all time had not managed it, he, a sixteen-year old underage wizard, uncapable of even Apparating, could defeat Voldemort? How could they expect him to handle successive deaths without any hesitation? How could they just throw all their troubles to him?
Forwards.........
Subconsciously, he had been leaning forward. He was almost at an angle now. When he opened his eyes again, he gasped at how he swayed. But he had made his decision - He knew he wouldn't regret it.
Would he?
He took a step forward and plunged down...down...down...
As a painful death rushed up to meet him, his mind was scrambled. For the first time since Sirius' death, he seemed to be able to think clearly.
NO! He shouted soundlessly, panicky, as he flapped his arms uselessly in a vain attempt to stop time. This isn't supposed to happen!!!
Faintly, and in the distance, he thought he heard someone calling his name. Softly at first, then more urgent, but the volume stayed the same. The voice was familiar; Ron, perhaps, or Dumbledore. But he couldn't respond.
Why did I commit suicide? Why didn't I think things through?
You did, a nasty voice at the back of his head snapped. This is your choice, now live with it.
Shur up, Harry wanted to tell it. Shut up and leave me alone.
The voice laughed. Oh I'll leave you alone all right. You won't need me anymore. Not where you're going.
Fear arose in Harry.
He thought he wouldn't regret. He had been so sure of it. Yet now where the end was inevitable, he did - with all his heart.
No...he moaned. I don't want to die. I shouldn't've done this - this hurts more people than I would care to hurt - I'm not supposed to die - no...
I was supposed to tell Hermione I loved her - face to face, romantically, rather in a death announcing and grief bringing letter! We would have been happy together. We would've married, and had two kids. And we would've named them Lily and James. Ron was supposed to marry Lavendar, and live near us. He would play Quidditch for the Chudleys. I would've become an Auror. And Hermione, well, she could've become a reporter, or an Auror alongside me. Ginny would be our children's godmother, and ron their godfather. Perhaps Ginny would've married Seamus, or perhaps Neville.
As he envisioned what could have been, his despair simply increased.
No...this wasn't supposed to happen...why didn't I think this through...I don't want to die...I want to live....I want to help beat Voldemort...I want to...
Too late now, the voice sneered.
It was odd how just a moment ago, Harry deeply resented the world for thrusting the responsibility of Voldemort upon his shoulders, and yet now, he would be eager to take him on. If only it meant he oculd live.
He was dying a coward's death. And he knew, neither Sirius, nor James, nor Cedric would've liked that. He had always said he would die fighting - die a hero's death, protecting those he loved, just like his father. For no matter how unreasonable his father had been when he was young, he was still a role model. When had he decided he would take the easy way out?
A line he had read in a Muggle comic came back to him - Sometimes the way that seems the easiest is in fact hard and terrible.
Harry had not understood it the, but he did now.
If I could have one last chance...He thought miserably
He heard his name being called again. Louder this time. More clear. It was definitely Hermione.
It just had to be the one girl he loved who would see him plunge to death, didn't it?
And as momentum caught on and he sped further still towards the ground, he closed his eyes and wished for forgiveness. From Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, Dumbledore McGonagall, his parents, Sirius, Remus - anyone who cared about him, or at least pretended to.
But his last thought were the five words circling over and over, repeating themselves incessantly in his brain.
I don't want to die...I don't want to die...I don't want to die...
Someone grabbed him by the shoulder. He started, incredulous. He had fallen over half the distance, how could anyone still catch him? He squirmed uncomfortably. Then a soothing voice whispered
"Shh...Harry...it's all right...it's me, Hermione"
~*~
An unbeatable sense of dread in the middle of the night had pulled the Gryffindor resident bookworm out of her comfortable bed and into the boy's dormitory. Thankfully, the other four boys were asleep. She climbed into Harry's bed, sitting on the edge and just looking happily at the Boy Who Lived. The boy whom she loved.
When he began tossing and turning, moaning names, she cast a Silencio charm on the bed and carefully pulled the curtains of the four-poster closed. She moved closer to him, holding him in her arms in an attempt to cease his twitches. To see the strong boy so vulnerable was almost painful, but she could imagine only too well how he went through this every night.
Harry took a deep shuddering breath and sighed audibly. Hermione stared at him. There was a sense of foreboding on his face, before he turned over, groaning.
"I don't want to die...I don't want to die..." those words soft escaped Harry's lips, accompanied by a melancholy unlike any Hermioine had ever encountered before.
"Shh...Harry...it's all right...it's me, Hermione" Hermione whispered soothingly, stroking Harry's hair. She laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. She patted him on the back. She did anything she could think of to make her boy feel better. She had grown to be protective of him, and even more so when she realized she loved him more then her own life.
He cringed at her touch at first, but when she started speaking, relaxed visibly. When he had calmed down, peaceful was the image he created. He looked like a sleeping angel, devoid of worries. It was only too bad those worries had a very good grip on him.
Hermione was almost about to set him down and go back to her own bed when he stirred in her arms. Sleepy eyelids opened to reveal stunningly green eyes. In the moonlight that streamed through the translucent curtains, he looked to die for.
"Hermione..." he whispered. "Hermi, am I dead?" The note of resignation in his voice sent alarm shooting through her body. She tensed. "Hermi, I don't want to die...I want to live...I want to love...you...I'm dead, aren't I? You're a projection, aren't you?"
Hermione was too caught up in the last statement to notice what Harry had professed to her.
"Shh, Harry, it's all right." She told him quietly once again. "It's all right, everything's fine. I'm real, you're real. You're in your own bed, at Hogwarts, in your sixth year. Don't worry, it was just a dream..."
"Just...a dream?" Harry repeated, bemused. "A dream." It had seemed so real for him. He stared at the air, almost expecting to see his environment dissolve into mist and the ground approaching at lightning speed, ready to claim his life. "A dream." He said again, more to himself than to anyone else. "It was just a dream" He concluded firmly, trying to convince himself.
Hermione, who had been alarmed at first at his reaction, now smiled. "Yes, Harry, a dream." She wondered when she had become baby-sitter to this 5-year old child. But then, she mused, he hadn't had a childhood. So it's only natural he wanted to catch up when he was sixteen. That thought brought a twinkle to her worried eyes. "Don't worry, I'll stay here with you until you go to sleep." Harry jumped. Then he looked at her, as though seeing her for the first time.
"What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Miss Prefect?" A note of amusement crept into his voice as he stared at her accusingly. "Professor McGonagall would be enraged." Hermione chuckled softly and swatted at him with one hand.
"Come off it, Harry, or I will regret ever worrying about you."
"Aww...you worried about me? That's so sweet!" Harry teased good-naturedly, but inside his heart skipped a beat before speeding up.
"Of course." Hermione told him softly. "Now go to sleep, or I won't lend you my notes in History of Magic tomorrow."
Harry laughed and pecked her on the cheek. He ran his fingers through her hair before settling on her shoulder. "Thanks, Hermione. It means a lot to me." She held his gaze for a few moments longer before standing up and slipping out the door. Harry watched her go, delirius happiness in his eyes.
She worried about him. She actually thought of him.
Maybe he would've done better to tell her his feelings, but for now, he would be happy just being her friend.
He flopped onto his pilow and pulled the cover over.
He regretted his thoughts from dinner.
He did have a lot to live for.
One of them being cursing Malfoy beyond recognition first thing in the morning...
He yawned and closed his eyes.
Concealed in the walls, Hogwarts smiled. Deliver meaningful message hidden in dream, check.
~*~
The End
~*~