A/N: Italics in the present tense are dreams, italics in the past tense are flashbacks. Generally the flashbacks are dated.

In Dreams

Chapter One

A gentle knock brings Hermione out of her silent reverie. She reluctantly pushes back her chair from the oak writing desk it makes a dull, scraping noise from the friction with the floorboards. Hermione slowly opens the door curious as to who could be there. To the best of her knowledge she is alone in this house. She is distracted and forgets to grab her wand. She peeks out to sneak a glimpse of her mysterious visitor.

"Oh it's you," she says disdainfully, throwing her door open and turning her back. She receives no reply and the body makes no attempt to move. This irritates the young woman.

"Well aren't you going to come in?"

The person crosses the threshold closing the door behind silently him. It is a man; the heavy squeak from his leather shoes on the naked flooring determines that. However, he still declines to speak instead gazing gently at her back. Hermione, growing tired of this, turns to face him. He is tall with a superior posture. She hates when men slouch. His ebony hair falls into his dark eyes, framing his defined features and strong jaw line. He looks better than the last time she saw him, the colour has returned to his cheeks and he is no longer so sallow. He has filled out too, before his clothing fell loosely around his weak structure but now, the dark clothes cling to his sculptured body. Hermione continues to stare contemptuously at him waiting for his vocal cords to go into action. She eventually concludes that this is futile.

"Why are you here?" she asks exasperated.

The man takes one step forward keeping his eyes firmly on her, yet still he refuses to answer her questions.

"What do you want?"

He is fast approaching her. This, coupled with the intense look in his eyes, is beginning to unnerve her. She steps back but soon runs out of floor. She finds herself backed against a wall; it is cold. He is still advancing on her. She feels the urge to scream but no sound comes out, she swallows and attempts again. However, the labour is pointless, if she shrieks no one would hear her- she… They are alone in a house in the middle of nowhere. No one will answer her call. He stops right in front of her starring into her chocolate brown eyes. Her feeling of fear melts away. His eyes are fiery and full of passion.

"Why are you here?" she says again only this time tenderly.

He cups her face in his hands and gently leans down kissing her lips. She does not pull away. She can not explain it, she suddenly finds herself wanting him. Eros' bow strikes her unaware. All she knows is she wants him to kiss her again and again. He pulls away commencing his burning glances again. Her heart is racing and her breath has quickened, she has to bit her lip to keep some control.

She is looking back into his dark eyes; she has to kiss him. She wraps her arms around his neck and reaches up to towards him. He captures her lips in the most passionate embrace she has ever experienced. His long fingers trawl up her back; the warmth against her cool back causes her to shiver. Her mouth opens in a low moan as his tongue slowly moves over her lower lip; he takes her petite face in his large hands, caressing her tongue with his. She fears if he lets go, she may fall in a heap at his feet.

His tongue trails along her jaw line until it finds her neck. He picks her up, as if she weighed nothing, and brings her to her bed. His hands expertly begin removing her clothing without his mouth breaking contact with her lips. She too begins to undress the man that only ten minutes ago had made her feel so uneasy. Hermione runs her tiny hand over his back, feeling the knots of muscles and smooth toned skin.

One of the man's hands slips beneath her white lacy bra and gently rubs her breast, as the other reaches behind her to unhook the material separating them. Her bra is hastily flung from the bed as he begins kissing the valley between her pert breasts; he trails his teeth across her nipples, as she instinctively lifts her pelvis to meet him. She can feel his excitement although that is apparent in his strokes and caresses. He places kisses in a path down towards her knave, his tongue trailing over the light hairs causing a slight ticklish sensation, which proves to arouse her more. Soon his lips find their way to between her thighs. She rolls her head back in delight, clutching the sheets and biting her lip. She can no longer hold in the urge to moan and groan loudly. Hermione makes to return the favour but the young man shakes his head and tenderly pushes her back down on the bed. He gently flows his right index finger over her lithe form. He leans over and she encircles his broad hips with her thighs.

He whispers in a low pleading voice. "Help me Hermione. Please help me."

She is too distracted to notice she has not seen him in ten years, yet he does not look a day over thirty-six or more importantly how can he be here? Sirius Black is dead.

Early October 2005

Hermione lay on the white cotton sheets, her body twisted. Her leg swung over the edge of the mattress. The weather was turning; she could feel the cool breeze creeping in and silently caressing her awkward limbs. She mentally reminded herself to get the window fixed. Eventually succumbing, she gently stole from the bed in an effort not to awake her slumbering boyfriend. Unfortunately, Hermione's foot collided with a carelessly discarded Mary-Jane and she tumbled forward, hitting the carpeted floor with a dull thud. She heard the movements of the awakening man on the crisp sheets.

"Hermione?" the voice asked groggily.

The named witch stood nursing a bruised hip. "Yes?"

"Why are you up so early?" His soft Welsh accent broke under a barely concealed yawn. "It's what… about seven?"

"I have work."

The young man leaned up on his elbows. "Do you have to work today?" He asked with a sleepy expression.

"Yes," Hermione answered resentfully.

"Well if you wait for me, I'll come with you. I have to go to Diagon Alley anyway."

"Kevin! I'm perfectly capable of going alone. I told you before…" she abruptly stopped noticing her boyfriend properly for the first time that morning. He was leaning up shakily in the bed, his chestnut hair gleamed a deep ruby in a dust filled ray, as it fell into his squinting eyes. It was not fair to take it out on him. If she refused to confide in him, how could he be of any help? She could not ignore her sudden guilt for not only being grumpy but also for the smouldering grey eyes she just envisioned he had.

"Sorry Kevin, it's just I've been so tired lately. It's O.K.; you stay in bed and sleep. You'll need it."

"Right… but I'll see you later though, yeah?" Without waiting for a reply Kevin rolled over and fell back into a light slumber, to both Hermione's annoyance and jealousy.

She knew she was acting insanely waspish lately. She had caught herself, last week, about to scream at some poor student in the corner shop. Something was not right and as she walked into her bathroom, careful to make as little sound, she could not shake the feeling she had forgotten something.

"Yeah, my sanity," she grumbled bitterly.

Hermione arrived in Diagon Alley a little while later, holding two polystyrene cups of coffee and an armful of tracts and parchment. She fumbled with the contents of her arms juggling the coffee and books in an effort to access the door to her business.

"You call yourself a witch," a bemused voice called behind her.

"Remus, stop being a nuisance and open the door."

Remus Lupin took the offered coffee and sat at the counter, immediately he spread the Daily Prophet out and brought the warm polystyrene to his lips. Hermione spied him over the rim of her coffee, studying him like she had not in many years. His hair had turned almost entirely grey now, although some of the golden brown shown through. She realised his face, however, had not changed much. Hermione guessed the combination of a steady job and a secure home had helped. His clothing, though no longer tattered, was always simple and well worn.

Sometimes when he laughed he looked no more than a young mischievous boy, most notably around his pale blue eyes or his heart warming smile. She could easily see why Tonks had fallen for him. Once or twice she had witnessed some of his hidden pain, normally around Halloween, but generally he looked satisfied with his lot.

Hermione brought a hand to her cropped hair; she had celebrated her twenty-sixth birthday only the previous month. She had graduated top of her year and Head Girl. Although, to everyone's surprise, Hermione didn't take a job at the Ministry, she didn't become a teacher. The girl with the ability to do or become anything she could desire, decided to open a small book shop in Diagon Alley and give her close friend and favourite professor a job. She realized that there were things in life more important than success. She just wanted a simple life and to do something she really enjoyed. Working in a bookshop was one of them. Her customers were few, as she dealt mainly in rare and specialised books. Although, towards the end of August when the Hogwarts students arrived, she was always reminded why she chose to do this.

"How's Tonks?" Hermione asked believing it was up to her to initiate the conversation. Remus and Tonks had been dating for a few years now. After Sirius' death Remus found comfort in the open arms of a distraught cousin.

"Yeah she's fine, actually she was asking about you. She wants you to come over at Christmas," he replied.

"And you don't?" she asked jokingly but her voice carried a certain seriousness. "I'll have to check with Kevin but I'd love to." She wondered if Harry would be there.

"…Hermione?"

"What sorry I didn't hear you," said Hermione, slightly dazed.

"Always thinking of something… I said did you get your invitation to Harry's wedding?"

"Oh yes," she answered although mumbling 'of course' under her breath.

Harry's wedding; she'd forgotten about that. She only received an invitation last week. On reading it she realised she was surprised to receive one. She couldn't be sure was it Ginny or Harry's idea but she suspected Mrs. Weasley had a hand in it. They blamed her for what happened to Ron, it wasn't her fault- she knew that now.

Hermione spent the day in a daze not hearing when customers came in to the shop; walking into tables and bookshelves. It wasn't until nearly closing when Hermione knocked over a particularly high pile of books, that Remus asked what was wrong.

"I don't know. I've been walking around in a daze all week. I don't know what's wrong."

"How are you sleeping?" he inquired.

"Fine, though I never remember my dreams anymore, perhaps a bit too much Dreamless potion after seventh year."

The dreams came back in broken sequences; she could never recall a dream in its entirety, only that there was a man. She had no idea to who the shadowed face belonged, remembering only the intensity in his eyes or his perfect Cupid's bow. She'd see the lips moving, feel her head nod frantically but would never hear the words. His mute mouth spilling forth some unknown clue she could not decipher.

The dreams had started so suddenly that she still recollect awakening that first time trembling, her heart racing. Sometimes her mind wandered to those smoky eyes and drifted to the memory the dreams invoked of bruised lips. She'd often find her fingers subconsciously trailing over the smooth, plump flesh of her lower lip.

"Maybe you should take some time off, you never took a break after you graduated," Remus said concerned.

"I couldn't Remus, Voldemort was still gaining power, and I wasn't sure what I wanted to do so I had to figure that out and then… then there was R…Ron…"

"That wasn't your fault Hermione," Remus said in a soft voice.

"I know," she said watching him carefully. "Look do you mind if I head off, my head is killing me."

Remus stared at her blanched face. "Sure. You're creating too much work for me anyway." Something was bothering her.

Hermione fumbled with the key to her front door, she couldn't see through her blurred vision. It didn't help that she also couldn't steady her shaking hand. Eventually she gave up and used her wand to gain access. She slammed the door loudly behind her; she wanted to get in as fast as possible. Hermione leaned her head back against the cold door gulping from trying to prevent the tears from escaping. Slowly she slid down the wood until she was slumped with her knees under her chin. The tears were flowing freely from her puffy, sore brown eyes.

As soon as she believed she could move she slowly stood shakily up and went in search of Kevin; but he'd gone out. Instead she settled for collapsing on her queen-sized bed and holding her feather pillow closely. The musky smell of her boyfriend evident, trapped between the fibres of the linen cover. She sat silently rocking on her bed for a few moments not really thinking just staring off into the distance. Without being fully conscious of her actions her arm reached out to her bedside locker, hidden beneath some tattered, scrunched, scraps of parchment was a solitary photograph. She removed the crumpled object and traced her finger over the creases along the centre and sides; they resembled a cross. It was a picture of Harry, Ron and Hermione. Harry and Ron were messing with each other, ruffling the other's hair in a playful manner and pushing each other jokingly. Hermione, who still had the bush of brown curls, was standing with her hands folded across her chest trying abysmally to hide the smirk present on her face. Colin Creevy had taken the picture of the trio a couple of weeks before they graduated. Hermione brushed off the dust that had settled on the image, her finger momentarily lingering on the smiling face of Ronald Weasley. She could feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes fighting to be released. She missed them both so very, very much. The anniversary of Ron's death was coming up, almost seven years; just under half his age when he was killed.

February 1999

A death eater was holding Hermione against her will. The masked man had her hands forced around her back painfully pulling them in ways they physically couldn't bend. The man was stronger than her, he had her held firm. Her only movement was the occasional painful violent struggling fit. This was halted however when another dark robed figure floated over with his wand twirling around his fingers. Though she couldn't see the second man's face she could tell he was once high in Voldemort's ranks. He walked with an air of elegance that struck fear in people. This was a person you didn't speak back to; he rated himself better than most people, including half the death eaters. He stopped in front of the young girl, her robes were ripped and bloody, her face was paling and she was biting her lip to stop the tears of pain escaping. The second man extended his long, thin finger to the girls face and traced it gently down her cheek until the path led to under her chin. Curving his finger, he lifted her face to meet him.

"Well aren't you a pretty one… pity you're a Mudblood." His voice was deep, cold and dripping with superiority. It invoked a feeling of disgust in the pit of Hermione's stomach. She pulled her head away from his disturbing finger and once again tried fruitlessly to detangle her arms from her captor. She knew intuitively that although his lips were hidden that he was smirking.

"How about we have some fun with the Mudblood," the death eater holding her asked. His voice was sleazy and greasy. The fact he was even touching her with his nicotine stained, rough hands, made her want to be sick, but now…

For a moment Hermione thought the other more dignified death eater faltered, but he replied sneeringly, "Do what you wish."

She screamed inside her head, fighting back the tears harder, that would only spur them on. They'd like to see her cry. Her lower lip was quivering, and the salty water in her eyes was forming a meniscus. She wondered helplessly where everyone was, why they were not helping her. She prayed they would hurry up.

Ron and the other Order members were almost finished duelling the rouge Death eaters. Most had been caught since Voldemort's demise but there was still a few determined to fulfil their master's wishes. At the moment only two death eaters were there, the rest were caught or had disapparated. Tonks and Kingsley Shaklebolt were busy duelling them.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron thought aloud, becoming frantic. "Please no… please no."

Terrified what he was thinking was true he went in search of his girlfriend. "Hermione, Hermione," he shouted twirling about to make sure he was looking everywhere.

Harry and Remus also noticed she was missing and they joined in on the investigation. 'Where is she' they were all thinking, ignoring the pessimistic gut feeling.

Ron spotted her; she was being held by two Death Eaters and went charging towards her. Ron had grown into his height, he was no longer scrawny looking, but as he charged to save his friend, he resembled an ancient warrior. His hair flying wildly behind him and his face distorted with loathing and determination to save Hermione.

The Death Eater taunting Hermione noticed her stall and the look of disbelief in her eyes. She'd never seen him look so handsome before, was that him or her imagination? The Death Eater followed the pathway of her eyes, to where Ron was standing like a vision with his wand held tightly in his hand. The Death Eater casually approached him.

"So who do we have here then? Ah yes Potter's sidekick."

Ron's eyes narrowed dangerously and his lips pursed.

"Oh dear! That hit a nerve Weasley?" he mocked. "And we got a new wand did we? Now how did your father afford that, stealing again?"

"Leave my family out of this Malfoy," he spat.

Draco grinned, and removed his mask, "so you're here to save the Mudblood, pity won't make a difference- so full of heroics and incredibly foolish. Weasley, you're no match for me…"

"We'll see about that Malfoy," spat Ron.

The two battled, shouting random spells at each other. Malfoy was worse off, his arm was broken from one of the hexes and he had a nasty gash pumping blood above his eye. Ron was limping and bleeding but he could still aim his curses. All the extra years Ron had spent training paid off; he was a more experienced dueller than Malfoy. Unfortunately Ron didn't see the Death eater stalk silently behind him.

Hermione was still being forcefully held. She was kicking hysterically, but it was futile. He was far too strong. She attempted to scream but her voice caught in her dry throat. She wanted to scream, 'Ron look behind you' but no sound emerged. A spell shot by Malfoy narrowly missed Ron's shoulder and instinctively he turned to follow its path behind him, sighing in relief. Although it was just in time to see the green light hit him in the chest and everything go black.

Hermione watched morbidly as his lifeless body thumped to the ground and his head hit a protruding rock with a sickening crunch. It all appeared to happen in slow motion, she saw his arm rebound of the hard earth before settling beside his motionless body. Her voice broke through the deafening silence, in an anguished cry, she screamed "Ron."

Draco looked down at Ron's body, 'that wasn't supposed to happen. The plan was to takehim alive.' He turned to face Hermione; some how she had managed to release herself. He wasn't sticking around to see what she'd do. He disapparated.

Hermione dropped heavily beside Ron's unresponsive body ignoring the stone that dug into her knee. "Please don't leave me, I need you… no don't please, please."

She rested her head on his chest, in too much shock to cry. There was no steady heartbeat that she had become accustom to, snuggling into him after a hard day. Her fury bubbled, they'd pay for this, and she picked up Ron's wand that had fallen a few yards from him. Her eyes were cloudy, dark and indecipherable; her face had altered into one of pure hate and want of revenge. She turned to face the two remaining Death Eaters, the one that had wanted to have 'fun' with her and Ron's murderer. They would pay.

Later thinking back this was all a blur to her, she never remembered what she'd done; it was all in the heat of passion. One Death Eater lay unconscious; the other was cowering at her feet. She was breathing erratically through her teeth, with her wand pointed straight at his unmasked face. The Order had found her standing over the pathetic looking Death Eater. Remus placed a hand vigilantly on her shoulder and slowly removed the wand from her hand. The two Death Eaters were reprimanded. She turned to face everyone behind her, only noticing now that she had an almost blinding pain in her shoulder. She must have dislocated it when she escaped the man's clutches.

She saw the look of horror in their eyes and then the question that would haunt her, "Hermione how did this happen?"

Hermione lay twitchily in her bed at 12 Grimmauld Place. Her sheets had tangled round her feet, and been pulled from the mattress in a long night of tossing and turning. There was no point in fixing the material; there was no point in trying to sleep either. She had given up and settled for staring at the ceiling reciting Keats to silent, still, stale air of the room.

She disliked this house, it was a constant reminder of death, and everywhere she looked where memories of Sirius and Ron being imbedded into her mind. Although she had never been that close to Sirius, she still missed him. In fifth year she had been sceptical of him, believing that he was using Harry as a link to James. She never doubted that he loved Harry but all that isolated time had confused him a bit. It was refreshing, however, to see his face in the mornings; he always tried to make the most of bad situations. He did it for Harry's sake and she had to admire him for that.

The gloomy room seemed more sinister without the sound of Ginny's soft breathing, which was missing from the bed opposite. Hermione hadn't moved from the room since the incident, after the funeral she was going to stay with her parents for awhile, it had been a week. She'd have to get up today; it was the funeral. Reluctantly Hermione sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, slipping her feet into a pair of socks she stood. Once again feeling the awful pain in her shoulder, she had refused to have it looked at, the pain made her feel something. She draped the nearest robe around her shoulders and headed for the door. The robe contained a familiar scent… vanilla? … Ron's. Breathing deeply the aroma of Ron's robe, she moved stealthily out of the room, having had no outside contact for seven days, she had lost all concept of time. She was only aware of the funeral because someone had knocked on the door the previous night. She had been staring at the waxing moon. The stairs where dimly lit making them more treacherous to walk down. She slithered down them, hoping not to awaken any sleeping bodies also she had no wish to enrage the portrait of Mrs. Black. There were voices radiating from the kitchen.

"She hasn't left her bed in a week though."

"Remus, do you blame her?" replied the other voice.

"I guess… if it had been you… I don't…" Remus noticed Tonks eying him funny and turned to see Hermione standing in the doorframe. She looked like a little kid who'd gotten lost in her father's robe, her face was pale and she looked like her consciousness had run away.

"Hermione, how are you?" asked Tonks in a compassionate tone.

Hermione ignored the question and proceeded straight to the sink to get a glass of water, before returning to her bedroom.

"She looks worse than Harry."

After Hermione had showered and put on her black robes, she apparated to outside a small wizard building used for funerals. Harry, Tonks and Remus joined her. This was worse, she was burying her friend, no her boyfriend. The small wizard building was packed with students from Hogwarts, she saw Neville Longbottom looking gloom beside Dean Thomas and Seamas Finnegan. The teachers were there too, Order members and people who'd been training to become Aurors with Harry and Ron.

The rectangular, beech coffin was up by the alter. Lit candles were floating around it, while wreaths camouflaged the floor beneath. Harry had sat down beside Ginny and the two were holding hands for support, she had her head leaning on Harry's shoulder and steady tears were flowing down her cheeks. Mrs. Weasley was crying inconsolably in Mr. Weasley's strong arms. The other Weasley's- Charlie, Percy, Fred, George and Bill had gathered together in a quiet group at the rear of the church. Bill's girlfriend Fleur Delacour was wiping the tears from his face. From the corner of her eye she could see Remus standing near Tonks both looking miserable, this funeral reminding them of Sirius, who never had one. Hermione sat down in a random seat and starred at her feet, she hardly noticed the service had begun, she barely noticed the choir sing.

Dumbledore, speaking after the song, had finished, his eyes sparkling with a film of unshed tears, motioned to Harry to approach the pew. Harry stood up on request from Dumbledore; Hermione was to speak about Ron afterwards. Harry stood silently for a few moments composing himself, his hand went through his hair as he tried to catch Hermione's eye but she didn't notice. Taking a deep breath he began, his voice croaking.

"Ron Weasley, boyfriend, son, brother, best friend. Today we say farewell to a kind, brave, loyal person. He was always there for me, for any of his friends in their times of need. Even with the treat of Lord Voldemort hanging over us I never imagined having to live without my best friend.

"I still vividly remember the first time I meet him, it was my first day at Hogwarts and I was lost, confused. I knew so little of the Wizarding World. I didn't have a clue how to get on the platform. I saw this large group of people all with fiery red hair. They showed me how to get on, and one of them was to give the best gift I could ever ask for; friendship.

"His family showed me more kindness in a matter of seconds than I had received in all the years with my cousin. Before I met Ron I never had a friend, then I found in Ron – a friend, a brother, a family. Of course that first day I also met Hermione. Though many will remember their constant rowing, they eventually started to go out, he was always talking of her; and I am happy that they eventually did. I had never seen him so happy. They were the perfect couple, the golden couple. Hope you have a restful sleep, we'll join you someday, and then the three of us can be reunited…

"I was flicking through the many letters I received from Ron; I would like to read you something…"

Hermione couldn't take it anymore; she stood up and walked out of the church. She hated funerals and for someone of her age she'd attended far too many. She felt guilty, Ron was dead because of her… and now she realized she didn't love him. They were just friends. They were so close that her feelings got crossed, what she felt for him wasn't a sexual love but a platonic one. She had wasted the last year of his life. He should have spent it with someone who could return the feeling. She was a fraud. "I failed him… Ifailed everyone."

What Hermione didn't realize was that Remus saw her leaving and followed her out, and Harry finished also went to find her. Neither found her.

She hid away for days, which melted into weeks. It had taken her time to be able to leave her home, which was when she found out that Harry and Ginny were dating.

"It's not my fault… it's not my fault… it's not my fault," Hermione whispered to herself, clutching her pillow, as the tears stained her cheek. Before long she had fallen asleep.

Remus called to check up on her when he locked up the shop, but there was no reply. He was worried about her.

Hermione is swaying on a swing. It is a large, gnarled plank of drift wood tied to an old yew tree by lengthy braids of hemp. The ancient, leafless tree stands in a large meadow with long golden grass and brightly petaled wild flowers. Along the rope emerald ivy begins to grow. Hermione's long, curly brown hair is flowing in the wind behind her as she kicks higher and higher, she tilts back her head and feels the blood rushing to opposite parts of her brain.

A crescent moon emerges from behind the shimmering clouds in the darkening indigo sky. It is getting late so she decides it is time to go home. As soon as she stops swinging she notices the large black dog sitting in front of her. The dog is watching her with his head tilted to the side and his tail wagging happily.

"Hello there," Hermione greets as she kneels down beside the stray. Her long lacy, deep purple dress puffs out when she sits, covering the ground around her. She begins petting the dog, which barks happily in reply.

"Want to race?" she asks the dog.

The midnight coloured canine stands up and starts bounding around the field. Hermione jumps to her feet and gathers her petticoats in her hands. She chases after the dog laughing. The dog catches up with her, and leaps up his large paws knocking her backwards. Hermione lies there; the soft blades of grass tickle her ears, giggling as the dog licks her face. She tries to push the dog off. His coat shines blue in the moonlight.

Eventually Hermione regains control and kneels up.

She hears a voice in her head," Hermione help me… please…"