A/N: Woohoo, reviews! Thank you so much for your kind words. I had no idea that this story would be liked so much! It's very encouraging.
For one reason or another, this chapter took forever to write. I'm sorry for the wait, but I wanted to make sure I really liked it before posting it. Place that on top of the creative writing class I sold my soul to for five months and you get a combination of delays and excuses. Hopefully my schedule will allow me to update more frequently.

Warning: This chapter contains some foul language (only two or three swear words.)

Chapter III: The River of Dreams

Hermione began to feel her eyes growing heavy. She had been trying to focus on the same paragraph in her charms notes for the past ten minutes, but the words were steadily becoming cloudier and more difficult to read as her mind slipped in and out of consciousness. It was far too late for her to be up, she knew that for sure, and her body seemed to take delight in reminding her of that fact. As she reached the last sentence in the paragraph, a dull throbbing in her head added to her long list of stresses.

The pounding in her head grew ten times worse when she noticed the time. "Three thirty!" she exhaled quietly, despite her shock. "Unbelievable!"

She put her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes. Harry and Ron would both have a fit in the morning when they found out about her latest late night affair; she couldn't afford another day on only a few hours of sleep.

Not that it's any of their business anyway, she reminded herself. They do worry about me though, and with good reason. Another night like this one and I'll be legally dead.

With a sigh, she stretched out her sore muscles and scanned her surroundings. The Gryffindor common room was silent as a stone this time of night, all save the sound of the flames licking at the wood in the fireplace. Hermione had chosen a particularly comfy armchair near the fire so she could enjoy the extra warmth. The lamp sitting next to her began to flicker with the fatigue of being left on for hours on end, and Hermione hastily pulled out her wand and turned it off. There was no denying it--she was exhausted and ready for bed.

She flung her notes and textbook under her arm and stood up, trying her best to resist the temptation to collapse and fall asleep on the floor. Her weary feet dragged up the staircase (which Hermione swore was steadily growing more steps as she neared the top) towards her dorm room near the end of the hallway, where Parvati, Lavender and the others were all fast asleep. With a heavy sigh, she set down her things on the night-stand and collapsed onto her bed, not caring in the slightest that she was still dressed in her school robes.

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"HELLO? EARTH TO HERMIONE!" Ron was shouting, flailing his arms around like he was trying to land an airplane. Apparently he thought that it would catch her attention; it did, and it made her want to hex him into oblivion. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm fine," she said forcibly. Her eyes were deliberately fixed on her glass of milk so that she wouldn't have to meet Ron and Harry's fixed stares. Through the corner of her eye, however, she could see their faces. They were both wearing the "you're-a-terrible-liar" look.

"Oh yes, I always stare into space when I'm feeling wonderful as well," Ron replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You stayed up late again, didn't you? Honestly Hermione, you're going to run yourself dry if you keep this up."

"What I do with my time is none of your concern, Ron."

"It is when we have to deal with you in the morning," Ron snapped back.

Hermione tried to say something, but Harry cut her off. "He's right, you always get hostile and detached when you skip sleep. Ron and I just get frustrated."

"Frustrated my arse," Ron added bluntly. "You are basically driving us bloody insane."

For once, she didn't feel have the energy to argue. "Language, Ron," she said automatically, turning her attention to her eggs. She picked at them with her fork, a habit she knew would horrify her later. An awkward moment passed as she began to eat and Ron and Harry passed annoyed glances at one another.

"Did you hear a word we just said?" Harry asked.

"Mmhmm."

"Why aren't you shouting at us yet?" The tone in Ron's voice was almost comical.

"Because you're right." Harry's eyes became as round as galleons, while Ron's mouth dropped open unattractively. "WHAT?" Ron asked incredulously.

"I said you're right; I really should be getting more sleep. End of discussion."

"But--" Ron began, but he quickly held his tongue after Hermione looked up and glared at him.

Another moment of awkward silence passed that Hermione was somewhat grateful for. She hated hearing them patronize her (no matter how much she deserved it--not that she'd let them know that) and silently wished that someone would change the subject.

"How's the Half Blood Prince?" Ron suddenly blurted out. Hermione stopped mid-chew and narrowed her eyes; maybe she should have been more specific on the subject change.

Harry grinned. "Excellent. He's helped on every potion we've done so far."

She allowed her eyes to trace the corners of Harry's grin. He was still happy about that textbook of his? Did he have any idea that by milking this Prince for information that he was getting praise and accolades he didn't deserve? Then there was that obstinate, nagging feeling of her own that was clawing at her brain. As much as she hated to admit it, she didn't like playing second best, especially to someone cheating with a unnaturally intelligent textbook. Her pride may be wounded, but she'd never let Harry and Ron notice.

"I still wish I would have gotten that book, mate," Ron said, shaking his head as he stirred his glass of milk. "It would have made life a whole lot easier."

"Easier being the key word," Hermione snapped before she could stop herself. "Too easy, if you ask me."

"Well, no one asked you," Ron pointed out viciously. He then muttered, "I knew it wouldn't last," to Harry.

A thousand retorts came flooding into her mind. Her mouth, however, didn't seem to be working correctly. Frustrated by her inability to voice a properly intelligent reply, she simply placed her silverware on her plate and reached for her napkin. After lightly brushing her lips with it, she offered them her best glare and stood up.

"I'm going to start on tonight's homework."

Harry looked surprised. "Hermione, we haven't even gone to class yet. How could you possibly know what our assignments are?"

"That's none of your business," she replied. She knew it was a stupid, childish reply, but right now she didn't really care. All she wanted was out, away from the incessant bantering and questioning by Ron and Harry. Away to a place where she could just sit and think for a moment.

That was easier to hope for than accomplish.

"Hermione, sit down and eat, will you," Ron demanded. "Really, you're acting very strange. One second you're fine, the next you're lashing out. What's wrong with you?"

A wave of heat rushed to Hermione's face. How insolent Ron could be sometimes! "What's wrong with me? Gee, Ron, that's a bit rude, don't you think?"

Ron looked up in surprise. "No, actually. I thought it was a good question."

"No, actually," Hermione replied bitterly. "Well you presumed wrong! You never once asked me if I was feeling all right or if I needed something; all you asked was about my sleeping habits, which, by the way, are my sleeping habits and therefore mine to control. What if I'm upset about something?"

"Well obviously you are, or you wouldn't be yelling at me!" Ron cheekily retorted. Harry sighed and let one hand run through his hair; he knew this was not going to end well.

"You are heartless, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione said coldly, throwing her napkin down on the table as she spoke. With a quick turn on the heel, she stormed towards the doorway, ignoring the protests of Harry and Ron's, "Girls, honestly!" remark. She tried desperately to look as casual as possible so she wouldn't attract attention, but soon her sudden departure caused the great majority of the students in the room to feed her questioning looks. Hermione felt a slight blush rising in her cheeks. She never did like being stared at, especially in front of such a large crowd. And as silly as it seemed, she also felt slightly exposed- no one would know her reason for leaving, but it was obvious by her expression that she was troubled by something.

One of the people staring was Luna Lovegood, who was sitting at the far end of the Ravenclaw table. Her wide, silvery eyes fixed on Hermione, studying her carefully. Her expression did not hint at any emotion in particular, other than the shared curiosity that everyone else in the room wore. Unlike other people, however, Luna did not look away when Hermione met her eyes. Indeed, it seemed her curiosity was not short-lived,contrary to the other eyes in the room that returned to looking at plates or other faces.

For a moment, Hermione forgot herself as she looked back at Luna; unfortunately, that moment lasted a bit too long. A moment after she regained her composure, she collided with something large and solid.

"Looking for some fresh air, Granger," the cold voice of Draco Malfoy sneered, "or did you just forget how to see?" Hermione met his eyes with a disgusted look. He was gazing down at her (he was a few inches taller) and was wearing that cocky smile that made Hermione's insides reel.

"Neither," she replied simply, knowing Malfoy was probably the last person on earth she wanted to see at the moment (or ever, actually). When it came to exchanging quips and quiddities when she was already upset, he had the upper hand; the git was quite good at making her feel even worse about things.

Breaking away from his cold gaze, she shoved past the Slytherin and continued toward freedom just a few steps ahead. She felt his eyes fix on her back as she reached the doorway and turned quickly around the corner. Relief flooded into her system when she felt the gaze lift as she passed out of sight.

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Thirty minutes. That was all she needed.

Hermione set her alarm with a flick of her wand and rested her head on the pillow.
Transfiguration started in thirty minutes, actually forty minus ten passing time, and she was determined to get some sleep before class started. She closed her eyes and let her body relax, but to her annoyance she didn't feel very tired at all now. Instead, she simply spent five minutes studying the inside of her eyelids.

"Shit," she murmured, turning over from her side onto her back. This was so typical- for once she actually needed to sleep and her body wouldn't let her. Why must she be plagued by this problem now?

Frustrated, she reached for her wand on the night-stand. Her eyes were still closed, so she felt around to see if she could find it. Besides the cool surface of the wooden night-stand, she felt nothing.

Her eyes snapped open. "Oh Merlin, don't tell me I dropped it!" The thought combined with her insomnia caused an unnecessary amount of anger.

She sat up with a start, ignoring the buzzing in her head that resulted from the sudden change. Mercilessly, she leaned over the side of the bed and began pawing around the floor. It was nowhere to be found. Somehow she had lost her wand on the expanse of the floor. Had she been in a better mood, it would have been almost comical.

Hermione leaned over even farther, hoping to find it had somehow rolled under her bed. Instead, her head hit the heavy wood of the night-stand with a loud thunk.

"Shit!" she said for the second time in the past ten minutes. Tears welled up in her eyes, not so much from the pain in her head as the situation she was in. How in the name of Merlin did she wind up like this? If only someone could see her now, getting upset over dropping a wand- how ridiculous! And why was she colliding with everything all of the sudden?

The sound of something falling shook her out of her pathetic state. Her wand had landed right next to her hand, along with the pendant Luna had given her. Somehow, both had been near the back of the night-stand and had fallen when she hit it. Determined to get herself back together and forget this had ever happened, she grabbed both and sat back up on her bed.

She stared at both objects for a moment before she stuffed her wand safely back in her pocket. The pendant remained in her hand so she could look over it. The curious thing was, she didn't remember putting in on her night-stand; in fact, she thought it had been in one of the drawers to keep it from being exposed to dust and excessive light. How on earth it had gotten on top of her night-stand was a mystery.

But that's not the only mystery, she thought. What was really starting to graze at her was why she liked it so much in the first place. It was a trinket, a bauble if she dare use such a vulgar word, granted it was an expensive one. At that thought she smiled, for she was under the impression that things that are pretty but utterly useless generally are expensive. She was sure the Malfoy's mother had several decorative boxes full of frilly fanciness that probably cost more than Hermione's house. This fact alone caused her to wonder again what Luna was thinking by giving it to her. She was certain the girl wasn't dull, no matter how absurd she may seem sometimes, so why would she give Hermione a gift she knew she wouldn't appreciate?

You may not appreciate it, but you like it. That's all. Or, at least, that last part was what she'd been trying to convince herself of. She did rather enjoy the feeling of the cold metal that sent a near shiver through her when she touched it. And the moonstone was fabulous. But that was all out of it's beauty, which every person would acknowledge upon observing it. True appreciation would mean some sort of emotional attatchment that she was not willing to give.

Suddenly, she felt exhaustion hit her like an ocean wave, ruthless and all-consuming. Apparently her energy level had dropped significantly when her anger had subsided, and now she felt ready to take the nap she wanted. She checked the clock and noted that she had fifteen minutes. It was not nearly enough, but it would have to do. Yawning, she settled back into her pillow and immediately drifted off into sleep, the pendant still resting in her hand.

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Someone was holding her, and her first reaction was to push away. This was dangerous- their face was hidden in the darkness, and she couldn't make out any distunguishable features. She grasped their shoulders and tried to move, but one hand strengthened its hold on her hip and the other cupped her cheek gently. Her body was still screaming for her to break away. What the hell was she thinking?

Her heart, however, was melting. Her cheek burned where the fingers rested, though not in an unpleasant way. This was not the touch of someone who wanted to hurt her. It couldn't be. No one in that mindset would be so gentle and so... loving.

Wait, loving?

She gasped as a pair of lips met hers unexpectadly. Instantly, panic flooded her veins. She wanted to protest, she needed to protest, but something felt... No, no, no, that couldn't be. She couldn't feel anything anymore. Her head was spinning-- Oh Merlin, was it spinning! She should push away; hell, she should throw this person away!

Every thought became more like broken pieces of a mirror- if they were pieced together, maybe she could understand it. But she couldn't possibly think properly in this state. Someone's lips were on hers, and it felt good. So terribly wrong, sinful almost, but good. There was no logic, no rational explanation for this feeling, just the physical pleasure of being so close to someone and feeling their hot breath on her face. She had never experienced anything like this before, ever.

But the moment didn't last long. Soon, Hermione sprung awake at the sound of her alarm. Strands of her bushy brown hair were in her face and strewn about the pillow like a curtain. It covered her vision, like the face in her dream was covered by darkness. The memory frightered her, and with a jolt she sat up and frantically pushed it out of her face. Her hands then dropped to the side and she sat still for a moment to try and calm the heavy pounding in her chest. She was completely stunned at what had just taken place.She rarely dreamed of anything romantic, and that... well, that was something all right.

Her ears vaguely registered the sound of something ringing, and she noted that she had not yet shut off the alarm. She silenced it with her wand and then sat for another moment to try and calm herself. This was awful, and even worse, embarrasing. She hoped with all of her might that no one had walked in and seen her. Obviously they wouldn't know what exactly she was dreaming, but it bothered her all the same. Hermione Granger did not have sensual dreams. The fact that someone may have even gotten that hint that she did made her ill.

Once her heart rate had slowed gaain, she checked the clock- ten minutes to get ready. It was just enough time. She stood up and unknowingly let the forgotten pendant, which had been hiding in the folds of her skirt, fall to the floor. With a burst of speed, she smoothed out her jumper before grabbing a brush to tame her hair. She then put on her shoes and straightened out her comforter. With just over five minutes to go, she was ready. Just one quick run to the door and a two minute walk to go.

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See what stress does to you, my friends? It's not pleasant.

Note: This title was stolen, err, borrowed from Billy Joel.