As the rest of summer dwindled away quickly, Harry realised he was foolish not to have replied to his best friends' letters. The past few days at the Burrow had been just as good as he remembered them to be, but Harry still wasn't accustomed to the fact that Ron and Hermione were going out, in fact he found it kind of awkward, often feeling like the third wheel. One such afternoon Mrs. Weasley had asked them to de-gnome the garden again, and they had agreed willingly, wanting to help out in any way.

Ron was getting angry because he'd had to throw the same gnome away four times already, as it came running back each time, a little dizzier than the last. Finally, Ron managed to hurl the creature over the fence and didn't see it return. Satisfied, he sat down under a tree and watched as Harry and Hermione finished off the last two.

Harry had been getting quite good at this, and had broken his record of fifty feet twice. Hermione however, wasn't having as much luck. This was when Ron came up behind her and held her hips, showing her how to swing and release. Harry felt awkward; out of place.

"That's the way 'Mione!" said Ron, as Hermione smiled proudly. The pair walked back towards the tree Ron had been sitting under, hands linked.

So she has a new nickname, Harry thought. Exhausted, he came and sat down next to them under the tree, and watched the sun setting.

"We're off to Diagon Alley tomorrow, Harry." Hermione stated quite matter-of-factly.

Harry, not realising he was being spoken to remained looking at the deep orange orb disappearing below the horizon.

"Harry?"

"Oh, sorry – what?"

He watched as Ron played with the curls in Hermione's hair. Harry had noticed for a while now that her hair was longer than usual, she must have grown it out over the summer. It fell gracefully in delicate waves, framing her face...

"I was just saying that we're buying our new stuff tomorrow, that's all."

"Yeah… right." Harry answered, distracted.

Harry now thought about the dream he'd had at Privet Drive.

"Harry, are you - are you okay?" Ron asked, nervous.

"I'm FINE!" Harry yelled, a little louder than intended. He hated people asking how he was. He then got up and started walking towards the house, when he heard someone calling him, running to catch up to him.

"Harry, stop!"

He turned.

"Hermione, what are you-"

"Just listen to me Harry. I know you feel awkward around us, but you shouldn't. We're you're best friends, and we still care about you."

Harry didn't say anything. Hermione studied his face, and evidently found something, for she then asked:

"Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry looked up and met her eyes, his hair falling into his eyes slightly, blocking them from view. He didn't brush it out of the way, and was surprised to feel Hermione's soft hands brush it gently out of his eyes. Coming out of his thoughts, Harry focused on the current issue, his feelings could wait, for now.

"What, Harry?" He had been quiet for a little while.

"Nothing. It's just-" he paused.

He didn't want to tell her, he knew she'd take it more seriously than was necessary. He didn't want to tell Ron either. He didn't want people to look at him with their faces full of pity and sympathy.

"It's nothing Hermione. Don't worry."

He turned to move away, but felt Hermione place a hand on his shoulder. He remembered her words: don't shut me out. That's exactly what he was doing. But did he want to tell her that he'd killed Dobby in his dream? Surely, S.P.E.W would have something to say about that. Worse, did he want to let her know that Voldemort had made him do it, that he could now be controlled by him? And then, on top of that, the Prophecy?

"I-I just wanted to tell you that I'm happy for the both of you, and-" he paused "and that you two look really great together."

"Harry, I know that's not what you were thinking. C'mon, I'm one of your best friends, if you can't tell me, then who can you tell?

Harry knew she was right, and having known Hermione as long as he had, he knew she wouldn't stop pestering him until he told her.

"I had a dream that I-I…" he couldn't say it. "…killed someone." He finished, with difficulty. "Well at least I think I did. Voldemort could control me; he made me use the Avada Kedavra curse! I couldn't fight him, I was helpless."

Harry saw as Hermione's hands flew to her face in shock, and her eyes widened, this was just what he didn't want.

"Harry, you should talk to Dumbledore! Write to him, now!"

"Hermione, Dumbledore's not going to want to know about some dream I had…"

"He would, Harry." He knew she was right.

"Harry, why didn't you tell us earlier?" Suddenly, she was getting angry.

"You don't think we could handle it, is that it?"

"No, I…"

"You what, Harry?"

"I didn't tell you because… because I knew you'd react like this!" He was becoming more and more angry by the second.

"Well, newsflash Harry! We're worried about you, we want to help."

"It's not-that's not it…" he mumbled.

Ron had been watching them nervously from a few feet away, worried that if he approached them it might provoke them into another argument.

"Uh, Harry, maybe we should head inside, it's getting kind of dark."

He was right, night had fallen some time ago, and the only lights that could be seen were from the lopsided windows of the Burrow.

"Mum'll be worried." Ron added.