Title: When Time Stands Still. Author: SantiMonreal Pairings: Harry, Hermione and Ron.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling, published in her books, borrowed by me, to release some of my mind's stress; and more importantly, I'm not making any money off this.

Summary: Harry tries to cope with the phantoms of his past. Ron deals with a future that he couldn't accept. Hermione draws bliss out of the present melancholic world.

A/N: The weird reaction of Uncle Vernon to the phone calls will be explained in the next chapter. Trust me, it isn't as it looks here really.

A/N1: This is short, I had very little time to write this week, but I still came up with this; and I still hate my classes, I plan to drop them.

Chapter 7: Wisps of Smoke

Dark. Everything was dark. Silence. Brown eyes fell upon bowl that rested on the bedside table. Threadlike wisps of smoke climbed to the ceiling, not bothering to diffuse, but slowly, very slowly vanish.

Orange hues of light sprayed themselves on the curtains that sheathed the view of the streetlamps below.

Stillness. Stillness. Only stillness

The silence was only broken by the haunting sound of the ticking clock that lay on the dresser. Three fifteen am. Not a soul was awake at this unholy hour. No one but Hermione Granger, who lay in her bed with heavy eyelids, but refused to go back to sleep once more.

Or was there? Something called to her, a faint distant voice that the seemed to be brought from far away. Perhaps it was someone. No, it couldn't be, who would call to her? Certainly Ron and Harry knew not the secrets of wandless magic. Silence filled her room as she pondered on this thought. There it came again. Hermione's eyes flew wide open. Something was definitely happening. There again, the chimes that were on her window softly resonated.

Something, it sang something, calling her, drawing her out of bed. There again, in succession, each time more audible. What was it, it called to her, it sang, the lyrics were unclear, but the tune played in her head; a haunting melody that sounded of a lullaby that would not let her rest. There again, this time she heard the words.

Away, away come away with me,
Where the grass is green and the winds blow free,
Away, away come away with me,
Take my hand and join in my company.

Yes, that was it, something or someone was sending her this message, but who? It was strangely different. She had not read through all the pages of the book but she knew something was not right.

How? She thought; how can something call to her? She shut her eyes; images of a dream filled her head. A golden meadow, in the afternoon sun, she stood alone at first, then Ron and Harry came running toward her, running down the field to meet her.

"We've missed you," Ron told her, "I had a dream about you," he said smiling at her. "So have I, I saw both of you in my room last night. It seemed so real, I almost thought it was," Harry told her.

"How, where? I don't understand," Hermione said shaking her head.

"Neither do I," Ron nodded. "I just wanted to see you."

" I've wanted to both of you so hard and it just happened." Harry told her. Hermione opened her eyes. "That's it!" she exclaimed. "The root cause of magic is desire," she told herself. She looked to her left and saw that the bowl still emanated wisps of white smoke.

She sat up and peered into the bowl. Petals of a red rose, twigs of an ivy, vines of a grape and a burning twig of rosemary.

The red rose is desire, the ivy sends a vision, the grape is the fruit of want and brings back the vision, the twig of rosemary brings serenity, when used together, they send dreams of desire, spells of lust, even if no incantation was recited. The strength of her want has sent the dream.

She remembered it now, her little carelessness sent lustful visions to Ron and Harry. Panic took her chest, her breathing increased, and her forehead perspired. She could not have just sent Harry and Ron lustful dreams about her, visions that no doubt they saw. But what the dream holds is in the level of desire of the dreamer, she reasoned with herself, they could have been just been talking as she just saw in her dream earlier. But something in her knew that if it were up to her, they wouldn't remain talking for that long.

"No," she cried to herself in a soft whisper. A blush rose to her cheeks as several thoughts of what Harry and Ron's images of her might have been. Her heart was racing in her chest, so fast and loud, that it echoed in her room. What would they have seen? She closed her eyes; her face was bright with alarm. But slowly, the frightened expression vanished as a smile crept onto her lips. Yes indeed, what could they have seen of Hermione Granger?

* * *

"Come in," Ron answered half asleep as Ginny knocked on his door the next day. He lay on his bed without a blanket; his legs were wide apart and was only wearing knickers. "What do you want?" he asked, as Ginny entered not bothering to open his eyes. "Mum told me." Ginny trailed off. She was distracted by a bulge in Ron's knickers.

Ron finally opened his eyes. "What?" he said irritably. Ginny didn't reply, her cheeks were a bright crimson. "What is it?" he asked her crossly.

"Err." Ginny looked at Ron intently and slowly traced down his body and stopped in his groin. Ron followed her eyes and was shocked that he had exposed himself to his own sister. Ron reached for his blanket and quickly moved to cover his erection. Embarrassed by what had just happened, he was determined to act as though it never took place. Ginny stood still as he covered himself. She looked at his poster of the Chudley Cannons, which was suddenly very interesting.

"Well, you were saying?" Ron asked her inexpressively.

"Mum wants you to be ready. Fred, George and Percy are coming over for lunch later and she wants you to help her sort things out." Ginny said nonchalantly.

"I'll be with her in a bit," Ron said indifferently. It was like this since the twins left. Without anyone in the house to help her, Mrs. Weasley always called on Ron for everything; or in her words, 'our little prefect'.

Ron hated this. He hated having to live up to 'The Weasley Standard'. He knew that it was expected of him to get good marks. He knew that it was expected of him to become head boy in the final year. He knew that he was expected to become Quidditch captain as well. He hated all of this. He found himself asking why did it have to be this way more often than not. Why did it have to be this way?

He caught himself drifting to the paddock, the paddock in his dream last night. It was just so safe, so pleasant, so carefree. He remembered a time when things were carefree; it was before Hogwarts. When he was young when he had no worry of what he was to do. All that troubled him was that he wasn't allowed out at night. But besides that, everything was perfect. He missed that. He missed it so badly, he could almost taste his need for it.

He missed last night.

* * *

The sun crept onto Harry's bed and warmed his face before he finally opened his eyes. His thoughts were still entangled in the visions he saw last night. What could that have been? Harry sat up and put on his discarded garments that he so willingly took off the night before. What could it have meant? It sounded and felt so real, everything about last night was real, Hermione's hair on his face and his chest, her scent and what he felt, was that proof?

Should he ask them? Could he write Hermione about this? What was he to say? Dear Hermione, I had a sex dream last night, what do you think that could have meant? And by the way, did you have one about me too? I forgot to mention, Ron was there too, please let me know as soon as possible. Thanks, Harry. The idea was so stupid.

Harry's reverie was disrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing. He heard Uncle Vernon's ruffled voice echo in the hall as he answered it in the kitchen below.

"Vernon Dursley speaking," he said in a deep gruff voice of a man who had just come down for breakfast.

"Absolutely NOT!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed; "Who do you think you are?" Harry's heart leapt, he remembered when Ron tried to call him over the telephone; this couldn't be the same thing; Harry tried to listen for more hints of who the phone call might be from. But no, he didn't hear Uncle Vernon's booming grumpy voice; Harry was almost sure that Uncle Vernon had put down the receiver, when Uncle Vernon continued.

"Yes," Uncle Vernon replied, which was followed by a slam of the phone. Judging from the wheezing sound of air that came through Uncle Vernon's nostrils, Harry knew that this was a compromise; and Uncle Vernon very rarely compromised.

A short span of silence was broken when the phone rang again.

"Yes!" Uncle Vernon's hoarse voice took the receiver. "Yes!" again Uncle Vernon answered, again "Yes! At noon! Yes! Now off with you!" Uncle Vernon bellowed. This was followed by a slamming of the receiver on the phone's base.

"You!" Uncle Vernon barked at Harry as he entered the kitchen.

"Good morning to you too!" Harry whispered in his head. "Yes?" Harry said smiling, mocking Uncle Vernon.

"I thought I told you never to give this number away to. to people like you!" he yelled.

"But I had to, if I didn't they'd come over and I don't know if you'd like that," Harry replied, pleased with himself. It never occurred to him how very much Uncle Vernon resembled a purple prune when he yelled at him, until now.

"Never ask them to call you again, no telephone etiquette whatsoever!" Uncle Vernon declared to Aunt Petunia, who nodded back at him. "I have never been so disgusted in my life!" he continued.

Harry found a smile forming on his lips and moved to hide it. He was certain that when Uncle Vernon yelled at people in his office it wasn't insulting at all, in fact, they rather enjoyed it didn't they?

"Be ready by noon tomorrow!" Uncle Vernon snapped at Harry. "Those dentists will be here by then." Harry didn't move a step closer to the kitchen table; he turned on his heel and walked out and into the hallway

"I'm telling you Petunia, the are proud to have a freak daughter!" Uncle Vernon's voice resounded in the hall. Harry let out a laugh, he never saw Uncle Vernon speak with more motivation than drills. But now, he found his new favored issue, proud parents of witches.

"He couldn't be that good, he sounded a bit silly," Uncle Vernon continued, "he kept pressing on the fact that they would be here by noon, said it over and over."

" Revolting manner if you ask me," Aunt Petunia interjected.

Harry fell on the steps, he tried not to laugh at how silly Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were behaving, that it made him lose balance and lose his footing.

But what did those phone calls mean, one of them of course must have been from the Granger's but what made Uncle Vernon mad? What made him compromise?

To Be Continued.

A/2: Okay weird chapter, I know. But I felt that I had to release some of my minds more stressful situations in here.

A/N3: For the song, I think you sing it to the song of Greensleves. I was listening to it the other day and made up my own lyrics.

Acknowledgements:

Jennifer- Absolutely the best aren't you? You are soooo kind, oh and yeah, I am trying to be a little more careful. And that thing here? I hated it, in my favorite mall too! Damn the militia!

Macy Gray- I'm glad you liked it, I tried to make it so that it wasn't so wrong, but still hot. I think I got it.

Milkshake- Thanks! I love the magical air that they breathe too, It's so, well, magical. Hehe

Odessa- Thank you! I think that I should, it isn't very ethical if I don't. Thanks for your kind words. None of that would be possible without my Beta, Jen.

Anna_Chan - Harigatou! I hope this was soon enough for you. Hai! I love to write!

Andrian - oh my God! I can't believe I got a review from you! You're one of the greats of this site! I'm so happy you find it interesting. I hope this chapter isn't too poignant, I intend to make the succeeding ones cling to the poetic side.

ArchChancellor- Thanks! It is my first at fanfiction, although I wrote an original one a few months ago, I'm glad you liked it. By the way, are you a member of the smutty classroom, or ménage a trio? I think I saw you there.

Sliver- Thanks! I intend to elaborate on that a little more in the coming chapters. In hope this is soon enough for you. And thanks for writing me.

Roxanne- Thank you! I'm so glad you reviewed!

Sandy- I hope this is soon enough for you. Why'd you have to ask? You know when I write! We go to the same school.

Steph- Woah! You reviewed twice! Thank you! I had hoped that you would like the spell book stuff! Well the scene too. And it's okay, I'm not bothered by it at all.

XOX- Thank you. I hope this isn't too much of a distraction, this almost throws off all the pathos feelings that they have.

Sweetpup- Thanks! I'm so happy you reviewed!