Harry was in a fog, a green fog. He tried to cry out, but was met with only a cold, high laugh; a laugh he knew all too well.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the fog was gone. Confused, he looked about himself, but he could see nothing but a sinking grey, which only served to frighten him further. He was surrounded by it.

Then the screaming started. His mother. It was his mother, screaming in terror the same way she did when Dementors were near him. The screaming turned higher, and with a lurch in his stomach, he realised it was no longer her screaming, but Hermione.

"Hermione, NO!" he cried out, but the screaming continued, echoing in his head, haunting and terrifying at the same time.

He awoke suddenly, soaked in chilly sweat, shaking all over. Ron was bending over him.

"Harry? Harry, are you all right?"

"Ron," he said slowly, "I think it might be time to owl Dumbledore."

"Harry," Ron said slowly, "What's happened?"

How could Ron be so stupid? Still, Harry tried to be patient, fighting the fog of sleep that threatened to engulf him again. "I had another one of those dreams, Ron," he said, falling back and closing his eyes again.

"I thought so, you were screaming again. What is it? What's gonna happen?"

"I – " he said slowly, "Ron, I think Hermione's going to get hurt. By him."

Ron went very pale.

When morning broke through the curtains of Ginny's room, Hermione awoke immediately, remembering instantly why she felt so happy. She glanced over at Ginny's sleeping form, then, as silently as she could manage, she crept out of bed and down the stairs, wanting time just to mull things over and revel in her own bliss.

"You're up early, dear," Mrs. Weasley's voice made her jump slightly. Turning on the lights, she saw Mrs. Weasley seated calmly at the kitchen table.

"I'm sorry," she said, "You just scared me a bit."

"Couldn't sleep either?" Mrs. Weasley asked, sipping at a cup of tea.

"No, I just went to bed early last night."

"Cup of tea?" Mrs. Weasley was already reaching for the teapot. "Just get a cup from over there."

"Well, thanks," Hermione said, getting a mug and sitting opposite Mrs. Weasley, who poured it almost to the top.

"I want to say," Mrs. Weasley began, and Hermione stiffened, "Thanks for helping Ron with his homework. He struggles with procrastination and things; always has."

"Yeah," Hermione smiled slightly, "I've noticed." So relieved was she that she hadn't been asked an uncomfortable question that she sipped too much from her tea and managed to scald her tongue. Cursing her clumsiness, she got up and grabbed an ice cube from the tray.

"What time is it, anyway?" she asked, coming back to the table and sitting down again, sucking on the ice cube.

"About seven," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Arthur already went off to work. Emergency in his department, thank God, nothing to do with You-Know-Who." Her look, however, suggested that she doubted her own statement, but wanted to believe it nonetheless.

"You look happy," Molly commented casually. "What happened?"
"Oh, it's just…erm…" Hermione faltered a bit, then said, "I got an owl from my mum. She and Dad got a bigger dentist's office; they've wanted a new one for awhile now, patients have been piling up." She had, in fact, received a letter delivering that news, but that had been a week ago.

"Oh, that's nice," Mrs. Weasley said, feigning interest.

"Yeah."

There was silence for a few minutes; after about five, Fred came in, whistling.

"How'd you get in?" Mrs. Weasley demanded of him, rising as if for a battle of the wills.

"Oh, Mum," Fred whined, "I Apparated! Surely you haven't forgotten that I could!"

"Oh. Well, why're you here?"

"To check up on my dear brother. He's not up yet?"

"No, he's not."

"Lazy git," Fred muttered. "Well, what're you two doing up so early? I mean, Hermione, you're not usually up this early are you?"

"No, I just got to bed early," she reiterated. "Why do you care, anyway?"

"No reason."

"I'm going to go take a walk," Hermione said, "I should be back soon."

Damn, Hermione thought, as she stepped out onto the frightfully cold flagstones that bordered the Weasley garden, why couldn't I have thought to wear shoes?

She had to admit, it had been a close call with Mrs. Weasley. If it hadn't been for the way she had reacted in fourth year with the whole Krum affair, she might have told her straight off, but thankfully she knew better. She knew mothers and sons were like fathers and daughters, at least in the way they felt possessive, but all the same, she wasn't entirely sure Mrs. Weasley's reaction would be different.

"Fancy seeing you out here," a voice whispered in her ear.

Hermione spun round to find Ron standing behind her, arms crossed, but still looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Oh," she said, "why're you out here?"

"Had to think about something with Harry. You?"

"Ron," she said, at once concerned by his seemingly-offhand mention of Harry having a problem, "What's wrong with him?"

"He's had a dream again. One about Y – I mean, Voldemort." He suppressed a shudder.

"What about?"

"Well, technically, I'm not supposed to tell you…"

"Ron. Tell."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I can't."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you can. We have to trust each other, remember?"

"Normally I would tell you. But this…just trust me, it's best that you don't know anything."

Hermione raised her brows at this statement, but pestered him no further about it. Instead, she turned her back on him. Even though he knew she was mad at him, he couldn't help but admire the way her hair blew ever so slightly in the breeze.

Well, he thought, trying desperately to reason with himself, what am I supposed to tell her? "Oh, yeah, and by the way, Harry's almost positive Voldemort's gonna hurt you"? What good will that do?

"Look," he said, trying to reassure her, "I promise I'll tell you. Soon."

He could feel the tension in her body ease slightly, but she did not turn to look at him. Women, he thought disdainfully. I have no hope of ever understanding them.

"You look a bit cold," he said, trying to change the subject. Come on, just look at me, please!

"Maybe I am. Just a little." The edge had gone out, but her voice was still just a bit chilly.

"Why didn't you at least put something on your feet?" okay, wrong way to go if I'm trying to get her to ease up.

"I was just a bit preoccupied, I guess. I had a conversation with your mother, you know."

Ron's blood went cold.

"Jesus, what'd she say?"

"Ron, don't curse. Please."

"Sorry. Did she totally burn you or something?" Suddenly struck with another awful idea, he said, "You didn't…tell her anything, did you?"

"Oh Ron, don't be ridiculous. I'm better at holding up against her than you are." She faced him then - finally, he thought – and he smiled a bit sheepishly.

"So, what'd she ask you?"

"Oh, mostly just small talk. Thanked me for helping you with your schoolwork and stuff; as if you could hope to get by without me."

"That's not a very nice thing to say!" he said, but with a light in his eyes and a smile threatening his face all the same.

"Well, then your brother came down."

"Oh, dear."