Reverie and Remorse

Author's Note: Don't you hate it when I leave cliffhangers? I don't like them very much as well, so I know how you feel! I was tingling after I finished the 3rd chapter. What's going to happen next? Read to find out yourself. Things are almost going to a boiling point here. By the way…I kind of zipped through this one…I need to revise badly probably.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Characters, settings, ect. all belong to J.K. Rowling.

The way she clutched him was distressing, as well as making Harry uneasy. Again, he waited for Hermione to make some kind of answer. But she did not blink, and stared up at him in wonder.

Harry pushed her hands away gently, his head swarming with frustration. When her arms fell at her sides, she stood up, her body staggering.

"Dumbledore's dead, Harry! What did you do?" Hermione's eyes were suddenly bloodshot. She screamed. "Harry! What did you do? You killed him, you—you—" Her red eyes streamed with tears. She put a hand up to his face, her pupils darting away at him, as if she was studying his facial features. Her face was pale, showing dreaded shock and anxiety.

Hermione! It's a dream, it's dream, it's a….

She put both of her hands on his face, her thumbs brushing against his temples, moving down smoothly to his burning cheeks, one of her fingers gently touched the corner of his mouth.

"Snap out of it, this isn't ri—" Harry restrained her hands. "Listen to me Hermione, this is a dream! A dream!" His heart was pounding. This wasn't the Hermione he knew, the white-faced, bloodshot eyes….

"What's wrong with you?" He demanded. "You've got to go to the hospital wing, what bloody kind of mixture did Madam Pomfrey feed you?"

Hermione's tears rolled down her cheeks like raging streams. "You…" she said. "Harry…I knew you…you wouldn't kill Dumbledore." Her hands freed themselves wildly out of his grasp and tugged at his robes. "HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME! When Ron, I, when I-I I love you Harry!" Her voice carried through the common room. "I-I…you wretch, Harry! You— you – how could you? YOU—"

In maddening despair, Harry turned around as he saw a dark shape rushing through the portrait hole. Hermione's incensed eyes started to close. Her pale eyelids hovered faintly as Harry watched as her hands groped in the air. "Hermione!" He cried. She staggered, bleakly as Harry with drab desperately caught her shoulder.

"What – in the world?" McGonagall slammed the portrait behind her walking in with rapid steps. "Miss Granger!" Her thin lips grew tight when she saw their site. "What was that screaming? Harry, I want to know what is g—"

"Professor," Harry protested, stumbling to regain Hermione's steadiness. "She fainted— she was unconscious the whole night." He didn't mention to her about how she had accused him of killing Dumbledore. "Please, Professor, I've got to get her to Madam Pomfrey's!"

Professor McGonagall stared at the two of them, but nodded. "You'll do just that, Potter. I'll accompany you." She adjusted her spectacles. "But h-how…?"

Harry bit his lip. A trembling Hermione was leaning against him. "I don't know—" he said. "She was at Madam Pomfrey's twice, erm—" he paused "yesterday. It was something Madam Pomfrey gave her, some tonic—"

McGonagall blinked, as if trying to deem this was actually a delusion.

"Very well, Potter." She said. "I don't know how I may be able to assist you, if you don't mind transporting Miss Granger to the hospital wing." She glanced at Hermione.

"Isn't there an easier way?" Harry mumbled.

Blinking again, Professor McGonagall gave a heavy sigh, and retrieved her wand. "Your desire, Potter." She stated sharply. "Fitherfy!" Harry, who had been holding Hermione up, stumbled after McGonagall's charm. Hermione was no more or less as heavy as a feather.

"I'll meet you in the hospital wing." She opened the portrait door as Harry clambered through wearily, Hermione on his back.

This night will never end.

Madam Pomfrey pulled open the two large gleaming wood doors at Harry's insist outside the hospital ward. Her reaction was similar to that of Professor McGonagall, disapproving and sensitive. "What happened to her now?" She retorted with a small sigh.

"Do something—please—" He carried Hermione in and put her down at the nearest cot. Madam Pomfrey peeled away at Hermione's eyelids, inspecting them.

"Dear, I gave her too much, did I?" She muttered to herself.

"It's that tonic!" Harry found himself saying. "She's been acting barmy all night!" It was all he could do not to unleash himself.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a reproachful look. "It wasn't the tonic's fault, I've given it to disinfect an ugly hex to so many students I hardly thought of the side-effects to be anything but usual." She felt for Hermione's pulse. "Weak."

Harry stood there, and stared as Madam Pomfrey opened Hermione's mouth to a spoonful of red liquid. "This will loosen her mind, or whatever's been driving her to insanity."

Harry found himself gripping Hermione's hand.

"Down in the mouth, this girl." He heard Madam Pomfrey say. She walked over to Hermione's bedside, putting a wet rag over her head. "She must have been heavy hearted to put a Subdue Spell on herself."

"A what?"

Madam Pomfrey dabbed the cloth around Hermione's color-drained cheeks. "Subdue Spell. You wouldn't be learning that until 6th year. It drives your emotions away for a desired period of time. I've never known anyone to use that spell, it's dangerous, for Merlin's sake. I don't know what she was thinking, coming in, her eyes so colorless." She shivered.

"Hermione would never put that kind of a spell on herself!" Harry said angrily.

Madam Pomfrey adjusted the cuff of her sleeve stringently. "Is that so? May I remind you that I was the one who was here when she came dashing in during classes, and it was a Subdue Spell that I saw."

Harry closed his mouth bitterly.

"The only thing worse than conjuring a Subdue Spell on yourself, is if you say it without restraining your voice." She continued strictly. "If you're not careful, you won't just subdue yourself for a few hours, I can tell you. That's why it takes a good deal of studying to do it— as far as why she did it I'm not so sure."

Hermione's not dumb; she'd learn something like that far faster than anyone else. Harry thought to himself.

"I merely thought my curative tonic could yield her from the damage she put on herself. I suppose you wouldn't know how it feels to not feel and still have any sense at the same time!" She shook her head. "Same mistake this one made, backfiring that hex on herself. If it was any worse, she'd be in this state forever, only breaking out from her own delusions."

"Will she be okay?" Harry asked.

A smile appeared at a tiny corner of her mouth. "I believe she'll be fine, she needs rest. Rest. No disrupting her." She paused. "You ought to be going back to your dormitory. She won't be up tomorrow, for sure, you can visit her in the morning."

Harry took the cloth Madam Pomfrey had been using to dampen her forehead, and began to gentle smooth out the rest of her features, her still eyes, and her desolate cheeks. He closed his eyes slowly. I'll never hurt you again, Hermione. I never meant to make you cry. He fought to sustain his own nerves.

The shadows of the curtains around the other patients' beds wilted in the night. He heard voices far away. Professor McGonagall— Madam Pomfrey – whispering in tight voices. He still held Hermione's grasp. It was the only strength he could give her.

Drowsily, he doze off in midst of the upheaval around him, cutting him off of what had been a most dreadful night.

His eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Light hit his eye. Remembering the appalling events of the preceding night, he sat up in alarm, stunned by his surroundings.

A dazzling beam of light was streaking upon his bed sheets. He raised an arm to shield his eyes from the sun's glare.

"There he is!" He heard a familiar voice. Turning his head deftly he saw Ron and Neville scurrying his way. Both their faces were of disbelief and ease.

"Harry! What happened?" Ron stared at him, his face struck with perplexity. He was panting. "McGonagall told us you were here, but she refused to give us details. She said she couldn't say anything except you were here in the hospital wing because she thought it we ought to mind our own business." Ron mimicked McGonagall's drawl with a smirk. "But I knew you'd tell us anyway. What happened?" He repeated. "And w-what? Hermione's here too? I knew she was missing, but that was because she came up here to see you!"

"Long story." Harry looked to his left. Hermione was in a state, her hair tumbling in all directions beneath her head. She was still asleep.

"Boys, who gave you permission to—?" Madam Pomfrey came sweeping in, her face in anguish. She saw Harry. "Oh, you're awake." She set a tray in front of him. "You've slept a good deal through the morning. You can eat here before leaving. No need to miss the rest of your classes on a perfectly good day."

"The rest—?" Harry started.

Ron clapped him on the back. "Don't you know? Breakfast is over. We've got Charms next," He crinkled his eyes. "Or is it Divination?"

Harry gave Hermione one last uneasy glance, ate a spoonful of eggs and porridge, before rushing out of bed, and tossing his robe over him. "Let's go." He said, shaking his head. He was determined to free his mind from all disturbing thoughts.

"By the way—" Ron asked as they clambered down a long flight of stairs. "You never told me what happened to Hermione. Seriously, what happened last night?" He asked.

Harry glanced at him furtively. "Tell you during class."

Charms passed, but Professor Flickwick had given them a new counter hex – if only Hermione were there to help them – that was just nearly as frustrating as the reading of hazy indications made from smoking sagebrush. All day his mind wrestled with his concentration, and Harry could not concentrate on anything but Hermione. It was as if the scene from last night had stuck thick to his inner skull. The hard demanding of classes prevented him from finding time to tell Ron about it. He decided to finally say the truth once they went back to the hospital wing to visit Hermione before lunch.

Ron's stomach grumbled audibly as they scaled up the steps to Madam Pomfrey's wing. They had cut their time short from lunch to visit the tower.

"Harry, wait a minute…I can't feel my insides." He moaned when they were a short distance away from the top landing.

They arrived at the hospital wing, finding a most displeased Madam Pomfrey opening the door. "It's you two," she nodded. "Come on in, I suppose."

"Is she—?" Harry didn't finish.

Hermione was in a blue bed robe, sipping a hot drink when they arrived by her bed. Harry didn't know what to say to make the silent gap between them more bearable.

"So, erm, you feeling better?"

To his relief, Hermione was truly herself this time. Her usual color had flowed back to her cheeks. She smiled, weakly. "Yes. Thanks for coming, I, er, how are you?" She asked, with a smile.

"I'm okay, better." He was. He could hardly remember the last time he slept so many hours.

"So, will someone tell me what's going on?" Ron snapped impatiently. Hermione lifted an eyebrow at Harry. They both stared at him.

"Hermione, you don't remember?" Harry sputtered. "You don't remember what happened last night?"

Hermione's eyes bulged. "You brought me here, Harry. Madam Pomfrey said I passed out."

"You don't remember—anything?" Harry said, his tone indicating his frustration.

"I remember being at breakfast yesterday, and then walking to Transfiguration, and Herbology—yes, of course I remember that, we were learning about Crespneilian Sunstroodles, weren't we? Let's see…then I— oh—" Hermione gasped. She stared at Harry. "Then…I went to…the girls' room…and Moaning…Myrtle…Dumbledore…Harry—" She said, furrowing her eyes. "I remember so many things, but I can't recall them."

"Splendid." Ron rolled his eyes. "Now Harry will have to tell you too."

Harry's throat was dry, how could he describe last night? It was awful, horrid. The way Hermione's eyes had rolled so crazily, it was as if…he dared to make a comparison…Voldemort had possessed her himself, sending images through her head.

Hermione was bustling with the bag of books they had brought for her. Ron stared with incredulity.

"Honesty, Hermione! You're mad! Doing homework when you've got the whole day off,"

Hermione had whipped a quill and fresh parchment out along with her Arithmancy book. She gave Ron a critical look. "Rubbish, Ron. There's always time for work. You ought to know that."

When she had put her head back down to write, Ron sneaked Harry a disgusted glance. "Forget Hermione, tell me about what happened!" He urged. Harry glanced at Madam Pomfrey agitatedly. She was in the corner of the ward searching through a cabinet of odd-looking bottles. Quickly turning his attention away, he whispered to Ron, "Erm…yea…c'mon let's go to an empty bed."

They both flopped onto an empty cot a few spaces away. Harry drew the curtain around them. Ron watched his every move. "Yeah? Go on!"

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, and told him about Hermione's fitful phase in the common room in the night. Ron didn't look all too surprised; instead he was rather skeptical. "You? Killing Dumbledore? Come on, Harry! Even I and every other person here knows he isn't dead at all! He was eating a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans for Merlin's sake!"

"Shh…" Harry said. "I know. It was a dream. But Madam Pomfrey said that Hermione put a Subdue Spell on herself, and it did something to her…"

"Well, I don't suppose you know what a Subdue Spell is!"

"I- dunno…"

"Hermione woul—" Ron got up but Harry grabbed him. "NO, Ron, I don't want to bring this up to her." He didn't explain much to his friend's confusion. Things were bad enough already, with Hermione in the hospital wing after that night's bedlam. He didn't want to bring up the way he had mistreated her, and all that rubbish he wished he could forget.

"Forget it," Ron said unworriedly. "Hermione' ll be out soon, as soon as Madam Pomfrey's sure that she won't go insane—" His voice was growing loud, and he hushed. "Go insane. I mean, it isn't so bad, long as You-Know-Who isn't involved with it. By the way—" Ron gave a revolted face. "Still taking Occlumency, are you?"

"Yeah," Harry said dully. "I don't get the big catch about it. The classes aren't working, and Snape doesn't look like he wants to help at'all."

"Boys!" Madam Pomfrey snapped. Ron drew back the curtain and they quickly retrieved their things. "You ought to be leaving, your visiting time has long been over, and classes are about to start."

"We'll be back." Harry told Hermione, trying to sound normal.

She gestured her hand with a light wave, as if flicking a fly. "I'm alright, Harry. As long as I can catch up to classes by tomorrow. My head hasn't hurt for a while now."

Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as an unpleasant Potions class with Snape taking points off for Ron leaning over to ask Harry about his ("Ugh, Harry, I'm not sure my mending potion should be this booger color, d'you?") passed after what seemed like eternity. After dinner, Ron rushed off for last minute Quidditch practice ("Ugh, I seriously need some earwax if I'm gonna prepare for Angelina's loud-mouth"), and Harry flew down the hall, nearly bumping right into Umbridge.

"What's a matter with you?" She spat, looking into him up and down with gruesome eyes.

"Uh, nothing, erm, Professor—" Harry brushed at his dusty pants.

She narrowed her eyes, looking doubtful. "Surely a student who is rushing through the school halls without dinner must have a reason."

Harry's mouth was dry. He avoided saying what was really in his mind – he needed to go to the classroom to prepare for the next day's D.A. meeting. However—

"Erm, uh, I was just heading towards the hospital wing, uh- to deliver Hermione's uh, Divination charts."

Her eyes were small and piggly, and Harry felt like she was staring deep into him. "Hospital wing's that way, Mr. Potter." A devilish smile had appeared on her lips, catching him on the spot. She was right; he was far from where he wanted to be.

"I, er, left her books in the common room, Professor."

Professor Umbridge opened her portly mouth, her stubby chin wobbling in suspicion. However, no words came out. Instead, she niftily scrawled something onto her clipboard. "Students—running—in—hall—for—no—reason—" Her hard stares burned his insides and chilled his spine. She stalked past him.

Turning around, Harry saw she was out of sight, around the next corridor looking for more rash remarks to add to her list. Shaking his head with a grin on his face, he raced on quickly, smiling at the lie he had just told, not the first either to the naive Professor Umbridge.

Hermione didn't take Divination.

A/N: If you have gotten this far...why not review and tell me what you think? Reviewing will help me get to know my readers, as well as read others' writings as well. I welcome comments and accept constructive criticism...please...if possible...no profanity of any kind, as it would be disturbing or offending. Thank you.