Dislaimer: I own nothing, am affiliated with nothing, and get no money for doing this.
And thank you Rini, for being insanely intelligent and willing to beta my insane, comma-obsessive fics. You are simply brilliant!
The rain splattered on her face, wiping away the blood. She stood there, in front of him, protecting him. He was soo weak…he tried to push her away, but she refused. "No," he said, "I won't let you do this."
But she wasn't as badly hurt as he was, and for the life of him he couldn't push her away.
"Stand aside, silly girl…" the cold, malicious voice said. "Although it would bring him great pain to see you die before him, you could prove to be…quite valuable in the future, after I win this war…" he said this last part with what one would call a licentious grin.
"I won't let you do this," Harry whispered in her ear.
"I don't care what you say! Take me, please! Not Harry! Please, take me…kill me instead…"
"Please, you know this has nothing to do with you," Harry pleaded. " I won't let you do this; you'll die for nothing," and with all the strength he could muster, he pushed her away.
"Finally," the cold voice said, and cast his spell…
Hermione woke up screaming. As if sitting outside her room, Harry suddenly appeared at her bedside, sat down next to her, and began to comfort her.
"Harry, it was so awful," she began with a sob. "I saw it, I saw it all over again, just like every night. I felt it again, the terror…oh my god Harry I thought you were going to die! I thought you would die and I couldn't stop it…"
"Shh…" Harry soothed her, while rocking her gently. "Shh…its all right. Its over, and I survived. I defeated him, shh…"
"No, Harry! You could've died! You could've died and then what would have become of me?" Hermione continued cry into Harry's chest. Some deep part of her knew this was silly, knew that this was all past, but she refused to let go.
It had been two months since the end of her seventh year at Hogwarts, two months since the end of the war. Of course everyone was relieved; the war had ended, Harry Potter had once again saved the day, and most everyone moved on with the rest of their lives.
But not her. She wouldn't let go, couldn't let go. For the past seven years of her life, her focus had been Harry's safety. Her life had revolved around his welfare, and the main threat to this was Voldemort. Now with Voldemort gone, everyone assumed that from now on Harry would be safe; he was the most powerful wizard alive of course.
But that still didn't comfort Hermione. No one else, save Ron, knew how close of a call it had been. No one knew that however powerful Harry may be, he was still human, and he could've died that night.
She hated thinking about the possibility, hated it when it replayed over and over and over in her head. It plagued her dreams, turning them into nightmares; the fear was constantly with her while she was awake. She could be making a pot of coffee, and then his voice, telling her to stand aside, would make the hairs on the back of her neck tingle, and she would drop the pot and it would shatter…
At work, she would feel the rain on her face, and lose all concentration…even to this day she had yet to go out in the rain; she would stay in, and make Harry stay with her.
Despite the fact that she had seen Harry defeat Voldemort right before her eyes, even though she knew the war was over, the protective instincts she'd been honing and nurturing for the past seven years had yet to leave her. She remained in constant worry…every day that passed, she would ask herself: Is Voldemort really gone? Is there not some way that he could be brought back, with even greater power, and with a greater desire to seek vengeance against Harry?
"He cannot come back, Hermione," Harry said reassuringly. Being an accomplished legilimens he could sense, if not outright read, her thoughts.
"Why are you so sure? He's come back so many times, he…"
"Hermione, you know that when he took my blood, he became mortal. In sixth year, we stopped him from achieving immortality, and then two months ago I killed him…"
Hermione nodded; they've had this same conversation almost every night for the past two months. At first, Ron was always there as well, but ever since his Quidditch schedule with the Cannons went from slightly taxing to downright grueling, nothing, not even Hermione's screaming, could wake him up at night.
Upon hearing a slight snore emanate from Harry, who had suddenly ceased his comforting ministrations, Hermione felt a pang of guilt; she'd been keeping him up every night.
"Harry…" she cooed quietly.
Harry awoke with a start. "What is it? Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine." Hermione assured. "If you want…you can go back to your room and sleep now. I'm quite all right now."
Harry grabbed a strand of her hair, and tucked it behind her ear. "Are you sure you'll be able to sleep now?" He asked, deep concern apparent in his tone.
"Yes of course. I'll be fine. Simply smashing," Hermione said, trying her best to smile.
Harry gave her a quick peck on the forehead. "If you say so," he said. "Goodnight, Hermione."
"Goodnight Harry," Hermione said, feigning a sleepy yawn.
When Harry closed the door behind him, Hermione just laid there in the dark, sleep being the furthest thing from her mind…
The next morning Hermione, who sometime during the night had drifted off into a fitful sleep, awoke to the smell of warm coffee.
Grumpily, she jumped out of bed, put on her fuzzy pink slippers, and skipped down the stairs into the kitchen.
After Sirius died, he left Grimmauld place to Harry in his will. After the war ended, and the Order was dismantled, (at least, until such a time when it would again be needed) Harry decided he wanted to move in.
Many thought him mad wanting to move into a house that Sirius hated and that represented so much evil. But, for that same reason, Harry decided to move in. As a last service to Sirius, he wanted to renovate the place, and make it the house he knew Sirius would have wanted.
Naturally, the house did need quite a bit of work. Though Mrs. Weasley did manage to clean the place up quite a bit, the house still seemed like a tomb. Of course, Harry could never engage in such a transformation alone, so he invited Hermione and Ron to move in with him. Of course, Ron was delighted to finally leave his overpopulated home, and Hermione was pleased to have a place in close proximity to her job.
Another perk was of course being able to watch over Harry whenever he was at home.
When she entered the kitchen, Hermione was not at all surprised to find Ron there, sitting at the table with a big mug of steaming coffee in front of him, reading the Daily Prophet.
He looked well rested and happy; he was even whistling!
Hermione wanted to throttle him.
"Well then, you seem to have slept well," Hermione said crossly.
Ron seemed like he hadn't heard, or decided to ignore, her tone. "Why good morning Hermione."
Hermione simply huffed, and walked straight across to the coffee. As she was pouring herself a cup, Harry walked in, looking like a child whose mother just made him wake up early for school.
Hermione felt her stomach turn over in guilt. "Coffee, Harry?" she asked, handing over the mug she had just poured herself.
"Don't mind if I ahhh…" Harry stopped mid-sentence, trying to stifle a yawn.
Ron inspected both of them suspiciously. "Both of you seem awfully tired this morning."
Hermione glared at him, while Harry insipidly drank from his coffee.
"Perhaps, if you had removed your head from out your arse, you would have realized that I had another nightmare last night…" Hermione said grouchily.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh…you had a nightmare, did you? I'm sorry I didn't set my alarm clock to this little schedule you've got going on. Remind me tonight why don't you? Seeing as how the world revolves around you, and that my Quidditch career pales in comparison to your needs…"
"Oh shut it Ron! Don't you understand how hard this is for me? I…"
"Children, please! Lets get along," Harry said, trying to calm the escalating argument. "Ron, be patient with Hermione. She's tired; she hasn't slept in two months. Hermione, please understand Ron. He has to work hard at Quidditch everyday…"
"Oh yes, as if our jobs aren't any more strenuous?" Hermione spat. "We're Aurors, Harry! And you, you're there for me every night, while this good for nothing git…"
"Oh shove it, Hermione!" Ron began, "If you would just…"
"Silencio!" Harry exclaimed, his hand in the air between them. "Now, I promise to give you both your voices back if you promise to be civil."
Ron and Hermione nodded like first years being scolded by McGonagall.
"Finite Incantatem."
Both their voices returned, but it was as if Harry had done nothing, for Ron continued in the same patronizing voice he had been using before. "If you would just get some therapy, Hermione, you would rid yourself of your nightmares, and let poor Harry have some peace in his life."
Hermione looked like she was about to retort with some reason why therapy was completely absurd, as she most usually did when Ron brought the subject up, but she then heard Harry stifle another yawn. What am I doing? She thought to herself. I'm destroying Harry…
"You're perfectly right, Ron," Hermione said grudgingly.
Ron's mouth fell open in astonishment; even Harry seemed quite astounded at this new development.
"I'll go find a suitable therapist today."