AN: Thanks to Raspberri13, and as always to the magnificent BrennaM! Your reviews are appreciated greatly! I hope this chapter is as well received. The first few chapters will be a bit angsty, but it is rather depressing to lose someone close to you after all. This chapter was inspired by BrennaM's depiction of Harry and Hermione's relationship in chapter 2.
Disclaimer: Second verse, same as the first, story gets a whole lot worse...
Hermione awoke to the sounds of screaming. Her eyes snapped open as she jerked out of bed. Scrambling down the stairs of the girls' dormitory, she nearly tripped but regained her footing and sprinted into the common room.
"Sirius, no Sirius!" The tall boy sobbed, his eyes closed tight. Tears of pain, anger and guilt streaked his cheeks. "I'm sorry, so sorry. It's all my fault…" he whispered, anguish, so tangible in his voice, nearly broke her heart to witness.
"Harry," she approached cautiously. "Harry, wake up." The last time she'd tried rousing the boy from his demon-laden dream, she'd found herself flung against the wall. Later she had found that her best friend had mistaken her for a death eater while in the throes of the nightmare. Gently, she lay a hand on his arm, shaking him, "Harry, it's me, Hermione."
This had become the routine since returning to Hogwarts several weeks ago. The dreams came often. It was a rare evening that he slept a full night through. His eyes fluttered open. "Herm…Hermione?"
"Yes Harry, you were dreaming again." She felt stupid stating the obvious. Yet, it was the only thing left to say. She knew he was reliving the night Sirius fell through the Veil.
Most of the time, that was the image plaguing him. But guilt was an insidious emotion, and once wakened, caused it's victim to constantly over-analyze past events in life. Sometimes, it was Cedric's death. Others, his subconscious mind tortured him with visions of his friends turning away from him, Dumbledore watching, even encouraging Voldemort to take his life because of all the people who had died because of him. But mostly, it was reliving that night at the Ministry, the loss of his godfather hitting hard because he'd been the cause.
There really wasn't any point in trying to tell him it wasn't his fault. He never listened, and as his friend, she had stopped uttering the same platitudes everyone else felt would help. They didn't. If it were a logical problem, maybe it would have. But they were dealing with raw emotions, which hardly ever responded well to rational thinking. The only thing Hermione could do for the time being was to be there for him. To hold him, to listen when he did speak about it, and try to share the burden of grief.
She sat on the couch where Harry had originally fallen asleep. He put his head in her lap, a very familiar routine, and she smoothed his hair away from his face. "Shhh... Harry, relax. Do you want to tell me about it?" He shook his head in the negative, so she continued running her fingers through his raven locks. The fire crackled, and it would have seemed an intimate moment to anyone watching. But they were only friends, closer than most, due to the many precarious situations they had shared through their years at Hogwarts.
She felt him sigh, "You know Herm, I would give anything to be able to go back to normal. You know, sleep through the night, not think about 'pending doom' all the time. I feel like I've forgotten how to laugh."
"I know Harry. It must be hard for you, to know what the prophecy says, to know that you have to…" She trailed off, the thought that her best friend would actually have to kill another person weighing on her. Not the fact that the deed had to be done, it was, after all, coming down to a matter of self-defense. What the reality of taking another's life would do to her already burdened friend was what concerned her most. "Have you considered the temporary memory charm? Dumbledore did say that they could remove the memories surrounding that night, you wouldn't be like Lockhart. Or put your memories in a pensieve…"
"No!" The word was almost violent with the emotion behind it. Harry lowered his voice and continued, "No, I don't want to forget. I don't want to feel this way, but I can't forget what happened. It's a reminder that I have to keep with me or I might go running off half-cocked again, and who knows who would get hurt the next time. It could be Ron or Ginny, or even you." His green eyes looked up at her, moisture pooling in the corners, "I can't lose you, you and Ron are all I have left…"
"Harry James Potter! Don't you even start with that maudlin 'woe is me' rubbish. You know very well that the entire Weasley family thinks of you as one of their own. If they could make room in the Burrow, they'd have you there, Dumbledore or no. And Professor Lupin, Tonks and Moody all take quite an interest in your well being also. Didn't you tell me that Dumbledore himself admitted to caring about you too much? Not to mention that Ginny and Neville would follow you anywhere, HAVE followed you in the interest of helping in what ever way they could? You aren't alone, even if something unforeseen were to happen to myself or Ron." All of this was uttered in a serious, heart-felt tone, her eyes never breaking contact with his, willing him to see the truth of her words.
"You know what I mean Hermione…"
She turned her eyes to the fire, as though looking for her answer in the leaping flames. "I do Harry, you mean more to me than anyone else in this world, we've been through a lot together. Things that my parents, whom I also love, cannot even grasp for all that their baby girl is growing up." She paused, measuring her words carefully, "but you can't let your feelings of guilt continue driving everyone away. It was an accident, Harry, it wasn't meant to happen, but it did..."
He sat up leaning back against the couch, eyes squeezed shut again. "If I had just managed to learn occlumency like the Headmaster wanted, none of this would have happened."
She huffed a sigh, they'd had this conversation before, and she brought her arguments to bear. Perhaps if she said it often enough, he'd believe her for once. "As soon say if Professor Snape wasn't such a bitter individual toward your father, or for that matter, if Umbridge hadn't closed off communications like she did, you'd have been owling regularly if she hadn't interfered and we'd have known that Sirius was okay. If Dumbledore had not left, we could have gone directly to him. If I had insisted on physically flooing to Grimmauld when you'd only spoken to Kreatcher. Or better yet, taken the thestrals to Grimmauld. Maybe I'm just as much to blame as you are in this mess, I mean, I am supposed to be a clever witch right?"
"Hermione…"
"No Harry, think about it. I'd been a bit concerned about the rivalries between Lupin, Sirius and the potions master for a while. Maybe I should have gone to Professor Snape and had him teach me how to block thoughts so that I could try and teach you. He may not like me overmuch, but he isn't holding on to a decades old grudge about something my parents did to him. It may have come to nothing, or it could have become yet another lesson for the DA to learn." She contemplated the notion briefly because it did have some merit.
"You really are starting to border on the ridiculous you know," Harry commented, looking at her through slotted eyes.
"Perhaps I am, and one day you will realize that you are too by trying to shoulder all the blame. The fact of the matter is that you wanted to rescue someone that meant a lot to you, and he did the same for you. If you really want to get technical, he was fulfilling his duty as your godfather, protecting you. Don't lessen the sacrifice he made by assigning yourself all the fault. There are thousands of 'what ifs' that could have changed the outcome of that night."
"Sounds remarkably like Lupin when he took me to task over the map in third year. Are you taking lessons from him?" he attempted a joke, half smiling, though it still didn't reach his eyes. Then he flopped back into her lap, seeking the comfort of her closeness.
"Yes well, anything worth doing, is worth doing right. I may have some notes jotted down somewhere from the few days I was allowed to stay with you this summer." She flicked his nose. "You do realize that you are not the only one that misses him you know. Professor Lupin is taking it pretty hard too."
He looked at the fire, feeling her fingers stroke through his hair, soothing some of the tension. "I know. It's like walking on a knife-edge. Seeing him reminds me of losing Sirius, and at the same time I could barely keep myself from begging for stories about his time with my parents and Sirius. I'd probably have talked to him more over the summer, but I was afraid that he'd just blame me for everything."
Hermione pulled him into an awkward hug, whispering, "Owl him. It may do you both more good than you know. I have a feeling that he is worried about you, but doesn't want to push himself on you for fear that you'd assume that he was trying to take Sirius's place. You are one of his last links to his best friend, and I don't think he wants to lose that." It was a bit more than a feeling, she'd maintained a steady correspondence with the man, and the tone of his owls had indicated as much when he asked after Harry.
They lapsed into silence, and eventually Harry fell asleep again, soothed by Hermione's presence and tucked in the comfort of the couch. She leaned back further, reclining into the cushions and pillows, staring into space, contemplating the direction her life had taken.
Summer had been difficult for all of them. Harry had his grief, and toward the end of the holiday, his bouts guilt became increasingly more disturbing. She'd received many owls from Ron on the subject, which had made her feel helpless since she was unable to be there. Her consolation had been that Ron was there, keeping his eye on things, but then, Ron's emotional range was only slightly better than before, more a tablespoon instead of a teaspoon. It had been scary for him, and recovering from the damage had made him reconsider his desire to become an auror. In snippets of conversations and hints in his letters, she'd gathered that perhaps he would look to a different profession once seventh year was completed. In fact, he was all ready showing the fanatical tendencies toward quidditch that ensured she'd be hard-pressed to have a decent conversation with him in the months to come.
For her, the summer was trying for different reasons. A note had been sent home to the Grangers while she was in the hospital wing. Her parents had at least waited until they were in the car before beginning a series of lectures that would be repeated all summer long. Some began with "If we had known that you'd be in danger…" and others "I don't rightly know if we should allow you to go back next term…" and still more "You could finish out your education at a nice private school, then move on to a nice university". And she'd practically been under house arrest for the months of summer, neither parent willing to allow her out of their sight when in public. Her only contact with the Wizarding world was via owl post, which was difficult until she'd rented an owl for a few months so that she wouldn't have to wait on Hedwig or Pig to arrive with mail.
She'd finally prevailed upon them to permit her to stay at Grimmauld for three days while they were away at a dental conference. She was starting to despair of completing her education at Hogwarts. When her OWL scores arrived, they conceded that she'd done well, and it would be a waste to end her promising beginnings as a witch since she'd worked so hard. So, with two days left, they'd taken her to get her supplies. They'd taken her to the Hogwarts express and embarrassed her by treating everyone with wary distrust, much like her first year. They had further embarrassed her by walking her to a compartment on the train and waiting until the final call to board before leaving her with admonishments to "be safe" and "stay out of trouble for heaven's sake". She, in turn, had promised that she would faithfully owl them every week.
She wondered how long it would take them to realize that she hadn't promised to stay out of trouble. Hermione knew that she would be by Harry's side for the duration, no matter what the danger. And he was a magnet for trouble, first year with the Philosopher's stone, second year and the chamber of secrets, third year with Sirius, granted, she hadn't really been in danger fourth year, but fifth year certainly made up for that lack in her mind. She pondered what would happen through the course of this year, their sixth.
It had only taken her two days before she had come to the realization that the boys had hidden the fact that Harry was emotionally distraught. She could think of no other way to describe the way his mind plagued him in his dreams. His eyes were missing the glow of life. He was prone to fits of rage aimed mostly at himself, but partially at Bellatrix and Voldemort at well. She had observed him staring at Malfoy during the sorting feast, perfectly still but his eyes burned with fire, almost as if he was daring the blonde to start something so that he could finish it. This scared Hermione because she knew that her friend wasn't normally like this, the bottled emotions were unhealthy. And the lack of sleep didn't seem to be helping either.
After the first few episodes of being woken in the middle of the night, she'd had a discussion with Ron and then proceeded to change her routine. Research and homework was done in the mornings or immediately after her last class of the day. Ron took to studying with others, mostly whichever witch he was drooling over, removing her need to check his work for him. They both were available to him through the course of the day, Ron sharing classes with him when she did not. Harry, surprisingly, buckled down into his homework, discovering that he could sometimes forget his troubles if he concentrated on his work hard enough.
Hermione arranged to patrol early in the evening for her prefect duties. She'd then wolf down a quick meal at dinner before turning in early to bed, knowing that nine times out of ten, she'd be up in the wee hours of the morning when Harry woke up from his nightmares.
Others, while supportive after an edited version of the tale circulated, kept their distance. It was known that Harry didn't always wake-up immediately, and at times mistook friend for foe in the throes of his vivid dreams. The first night, Seamus had attempted to startle Harry into wakefulness, and received a broken nose for his efforts. Out of regret, Harry started sleeping on the couch in the common room so that he didn't continue to wake the others every night, which became a convenience in the end, saving her an extra set of stairs to climb in the dark.
It was found that she had the most calming influence over him, likely due to their friendship and shared trials. Which was not to say that the other boys in the dorm or Ginny weren't friends, but there was something more between the two of them. Perhaps it was because she saw and treated him like a brother, and he saw her like a sister, they knew how lonely it was, being only children. Something Ron would never understand, and often took for granted, being a part of a family as large as the Weasley clan.
She entertained a few uncharitable thoughts about the Wizarding world and the overall distain for muggle solutions, Mr. Weasley being one of the exceptions to the rule. What Harry needed was a psychiatrist to help him work through his problems before he self-destructed. The Wizarding world resorted to cheering charms and sleep draughts, or obliviation in extreme cases. None of which was an acceptable option to Harry. And they couldn't see a muggle therapist; he'd be put in a straight jacket as soon as he tried to explain about the Wizarding world.
Her mind was starting to fog, sleep tugging at her mind, dragging her into its depths. She wondered idly what it must be like to relive the same event every night. Her brain toyed with what little information she had on the arch housed in the department of mysteries, which turned out to be very little indeed. Why was it there? What did it do? Her eyes slipped closed. Perhaps she could slip into the restricted section of the library and look for some books that might touch on the subject. Harry said it looked really old, being fashioned out of stone, and that the curtain in the archway was tattered. Surely something that old would have something written to document its existence and function…
She did love a good mystery, and she detested not knowing. Maybe she could find something about what lay beyond the veil. She yawned, promising herself that Saturday she would do some research, in the interests of helping Harry. Yes, she'd do it for Harry…