Happy Easter to everyone. I hope to make quicker updates... but the end of school is coming for me, and as a senior I have a lot of B.S. to deal with. So deal with me here kids, I'm working on it. :) thanks for your support. – Bex

CHAPTER FOUR : TALK IS CHEAP

"I keep my visions to myself
It's only me who wants to
Wrap around your dreams and ...
Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?
Dreams of Loneliness
Like a heartbeat .. drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering what you had
And what you lost ...
Who says what you had ...
Ooh and what you lost"

"Dreams" Fleetwood Mac

"GET DOWN HERE BOY!" Harry was startled from his slumber, to hear the voice he dreaded. "Hurry up now!"

"Coming Uncle Vernon." he stumbled into his extra-oversized jeans and slipped a shirt over his head as he woefully made his way down the stairs.

"Yes sir?" he asked hitching up the jeans that were roughly eight sizes too large. His uncle was sitting at the breakfast table reading the newspaper with his best suit on, Harry had the feeling that this wasn't going to be a happy conversation.

"Don't take so bloody long next time boy, when I call you I expect you to come on the double." Uncle Vernon's non existent neck craned over his newspaper as he yelled at Harry, who nodded solemnly, Uncle Vernon continued. "It's your aunt and I's anniversary, Dudley has gone over to Piers' house, you're expected to stay here and clean. This house is to be spotless. SPOTLESS!" small specs of saliva glistened on his bushy mustache. "If it's not done, you'll have me to answer to."

"Oh Vernon!" a shrill voice called from up the hall. "Are you sure Diddles will be alright?" Aunt Petunia came in an updated model of her salmon coloured cocktail dress from five years ago. Her hair was neatly twisted into a clop on the back of her head, and her horse like mouth was covered with putrid shade of pink, supposedly to match her dress.

"Yes, Petunia! The boy is an adult now, he's responsible." Harry snorted, if Dudley was a responsible adult that made him the Minister of Magic . "He has his own car and mobile, he will phone us if there are any problems." his piggy eyes pivoted and fixed on Harry. "There will be no problems." his flabby face glistened with sweat in his hot polyester suit. Harry turned and gazed in horror at the sight that he beheld in front of him. The sink was stacked high with dishes. Mud, dirt, grass, and Merlin only knew what else splattered and smeared all over the usually spotless floor.

"Dudley had a few friends over for breakfast." Petunia said, as if itching to get out the cleanser herself and start to work in her cocktail dress.

"Yeah? Who, the whole bloody Quidd– football team?"

"Language Potter!" Uncle Vernon slammed his hand down on the table. Harry was sure he wasn't talking about the word 'bloody', the word 'quidditch' almost escaped his lips. "For that you can mow the lawn, and weed the beds." his beady eyes glistened with malice. "I will be too happy when you will be out of this house for good. You ungrateful bastard." spittle issued from his mouth like a grotesque fountain.

"Yeah? Well the feeling's mutual." Harry glared at him.

"You can't scare us anymore boy," Uncle Vernon began. "I know that you're time here is limited."

"Vernon..." Aunt Petunia's voice suddenly cut through Uncle Vernon's tirade. "Vernon, we must hurry, we are going to be dead late for our reservations."

"Too right," he sneered at Harry. "If I find that this was done magically I will throw you out myself." he glanced at his wife. "I don't care if the Prime Minister himself asked me to keep you."

"Yes sir..." he said. If his uncle was ever going to leave he was going to have to have the last word, so Harry obliged and let him sneer all over him. Five days. Five days. Harry kept saying to himself like a mantra, five days and I'll be free with my friends. But that wasn't what was really bothering him. How long would he be having these dreams, and what could he do to fix them?

"That's right boy." his face was so red beets would have been envious. "Spotless! No magic!" spittle spewed from his mouth, he spun on his heel and left the room.

"The disinfectant is under the sink." Aunt Petunia said to Harry.

"Thanks." he said wiping his glasses spit free. A ghost of a smile played at her lips as she grabbed her bag and left the room, following her husband.

The house was quiet as Harry left out a deep sigh and took in the mess that he must clean. There was no reason why he couldn't go see Remus was there? He did say when it was possible. Harry looked around at the mess, oh yeah it's possible to go see Remus, Now. Harry thought to himself. He turned swerved for the door. Once outside he made sure the Dursely's were really gone, and then made his way over to Mrs. Figg's house.

"Harry." Remus Lupin's haggard face peered nervously through the door. The full moon was just five days ago on Saturday, and he looked quite worse for wear.

"Good morning Remus."

"Come in, come in laddie, I don't want the muggles gawkin' at ye." said a raspy tired voice from one of the doilie-covered chairs.

"Tell me about your dream," Remus said as they sat on sat on the cat infested couch.

"Well, I brought it with me, I reckon it's easier to read than to explain." Harry said withdrawing his indestructible pouch.

"Good thinking." he grinned as he took the dream. Harry sat back and immediately got swamped with cats that wanted attention.

"Who's Kitty?"

"Kitty is the tabby over on the bookshelf." said Mrs. Figg.

"No, I was talking to Harry."

"Oh, sorry." the batty old woman muttered stroking three cats at once while sipping at her tea.

"Erm..." Harry's face heated up a little. "She's the girl I dream about." he named her after Sirius called her 'his little kitten' in one of the first dreams that started involving her. Lupin's face showed confusion so Harry went on. "That's how I know if the dreams are real visions."

"How do you know that?"

"I just... know." Lupin's eyes searched Harry's face.

"I'll take your word for it." his eyes dropped down to the parchment and continued reading. "She scratched you?" Harry nodded and took off the plaster that he had put on. "Merlin Harry! I think you should call her Tiger not Kitty." Harry grinned feebly and attempted to conceal his embarrassment.

"Right, well ahem," Harry cleared his throat. "Tell me what happened to Snape. You said something about him being alright (unfortunately)." Harry added in an undertone.

"Right." Lupin grinned. "Well, apparently Severus suffered from a curse that no one had heard of, but the carers at St.Mungo's healed him.

"What curse?"

"It's called Doleo Penetralis, the internal sufferer, very dark, as you might figure out."

"So basically all his organs inside felt like they were on fire?" Harry said remembering when he was under the Cruciatus, and every inch of him felt as if he was under a torch.

"Basically, and also his liver and pancreas were bleeding internally. During this particular curse you can feel the pain for a rather long time after the curse was administered."

"Why was Snape being tortured if he was delivering good news?"

"Because Voldemort is a raving lunatic?" Lupin showed a tired grin. "Honestly Harry, noone knows why Voldermort does what he does, noone ever will."

"I'll be sure to ask him before I murder the wanker." Lupin laughed bitterly at the seriousness of Harry's voice. "Well I should get back, you should see the mess Dudley made, and I only have a few hours." he said consulting the watch that Hermione gave him for Christmas last year.

"Well, why don't I give you a hand?" Harry smirked.

"Thanks, but don't make it too clean or Uncle Vernon will notice." Lupin chuckled.

"Well since the full moon was last week my magic won't be on the top of it's game anyhow." Lupin got up from the couch and helped Harry remove the numerous felines that had attached themselves to him.

"Thank you Mrs. Figg." Harry said as he brushed off the variety of colors of cat hair off of his clothes.

"As always M'dear." she glanced up from her cross stitch that she was creating. Lupin cast the Disillusionment Charm on himself and accompanied Harry back to the Dursely's.

"Merlin! You weren't joking. Blimey, what pigs!" Lupin's voice said somewhere near the sink.

"Yeah, but you don't have to live with them." said Harry. Lupin laughed slowly and appeared next to the refrigerator.

"Scourgify!" he cleaned the floor in the blink of an eye.

"That's too clean Remus. What did we discuss about over achieving?" Harry asked grinning."I think that you discussed that with Hermione." at the sound of her name Harry's face fell.

"I'll go and mow while you clean in here." and he walked briskly from the room avoiding any confrontation on the subject. Hermione had been on his mind a lot since the discovery of the secret letter to her from Ron. He couldn't determine why it burned him so much to think about his two best friend romantically linked. But the one thing he knew was that he did not want them to be together.

After he was done mowing he grappled with the weed whacker, fought a valiant battle with the weeds, and watered the whole yard down in victory.

"Harry?" he looked up from his crouching position by the hose.

"Yeah?"

"Come on in, I've been done for quite some time but you'll need to inspect." said the disembodied voice of Lupin.

"Right." he finished hanging the hose on the wall and walked into the house. Lupin was now visible and leaning on the table. "This is brilliant Remus!" Harry checked the living room, dining room, and kitchen. "Thanks."

"No problem Harry." he checked his watch. "Well, I must be off, Molly is cooking tonight. And Tonks is off duty." his face brightened.

"Thanks for everything Remus, I really appreciate having someone to talk to."

"Well I can tell that you're keeping loads to yourself, but you know you can always owl me if you get tired of bottling it in." Lupin shook Harry's hand and he smiled gratefully.

Iwas walking in a graveyard. It was a warm starry night, but I couldn't help but wonder: where the hell was I? I don't remember ever being here before, I certainly would have remembered such a dreary place. I turned a corner and came face to face (or should I say face to hood) with a short fat man draped in a cloak. He had a bundle in his arms and very clearly trying not to be disgusted. There was a slight whooshing sound and two boys fell to the ground clutching a huge trophy. I turned around to look at the boys; one of them was very handsome, brown wavy hair, dark brooding eyes with a tall stocky sort of frame, the other – was green eyes, although he looked much younger. He didn't seem to see me though, after a brief conversation he and the other boy were staring in rapt attention at the figure that was walking toward them (the hooded figure walked right through me). Suddenly a strangled gasp got my attention (I was slightly taken aback by the fact someone had just walked through me). Green eyes had fallen to the ground, clutching his head.

"Kill the spare." a high cold familiar voice said. Green light jetted out of the short man's hand and hit the bot standing next to green eyes. As the boy fell open-eyed to the ground beside him, my head opened in torturous pain.

"DAMMIT!" I yelled as I sat up in my bed.

"Kathryn!" Aunt Mags screeched, I heard the heavy clip-clop of her heels as she made her way to my room. "What is it now?" she sighed.

"Nothing." I wasn't going to tell her anything, but, I thought, who else was I gonna tell? "Just a dream. You know one of those reoccurrin' dreams, except that it ain't the same place, it's the same person." she tried not to look interested, but her eyes lit up expectantly, waiting for me to go on. So I did. "He's average height, lean, muscular body, messy black hair, and green eyes. But the coolest thang 'bout him, is his scar. It's in the shape of a lightening bolt. It's the coolest scar I've ever seen, and that's sayin' somethin'." I said having my own share of gnarly looking scars.

"And what have you dreamt with him in it?"

"Well, this one just now was like he was younger, and he was in a graveyard, and he was with a friend, and then someone killed the friend, but it was weird, like a green light just went through him, and he – died." I took a deep breath. Why the hell and I talking so damn much, and to her?

"How long have you been having dreams like these?" she asked.

"Well a couple of weeks. And it's not always just Green Eyes. Sometimes it's of a man called Voldemort." she let out an oath and covered her heart with her hands.

"I think it's just rubbish, too imaginative of a mind, too much bloody television." she managed to choke out. She was sweating now, and she looked as if she were about to cry.

"Right." I was about to ask if she were alright but she stood up straight and seemed to try to shake herself from her moment of weakness.

"Don't give me any cheek." she checked her watch. "Don't you have work?" I glanced at the clock, 6:45 p.m.

"Holy hell!" I had fifteen minutes to get ready and get over to the ranch. That's what I get for taking a little cat nap after school.

"What in the hell are ya'll doin' here?" I narrowed my eyes at the three girls what were rapidly approaching me.

"We came to give you a li'l reminder." the girl in the center said. Lindsay was about 5'8'' and bulky, with big muscles. She played basketball for the school and fouled out almost every game that she played.

"A reminder? Do I have over due library books or somethin'?" I asked standing my ground.

"No fuckin' books smart ass." said Bobbi, a mean spirited girl that dates her cousin. (What? I'm just supplying the facts!)

"Oh that's right, I reckon ya'll can't read. 'Cause that sign over there says 'No Trespassing'." they looked at me dumbly. "Means ya can't come over her 'less ya have permission–."

"We know what it means bitch." Lindsay sneered. She popped her knuckles menacingly, I rolled my eyes and grinned at the display of 'toughness'.

"So what's the reminder Lindsay? Unlike ya'll I got work to do before the ol' man goes ta bed." I gestured behind me towards the barn.

"Leave Steven alone." pipped up Christi Lynne, a stick thin girl with red hair.

"Steven?" he was easily the most attractive guy in our school. With bleach blonde spiky hair, sea blue eyes, and dazzling smile, and he could easily have any girl he wanted. Too bad that he was boring, unintelligent, self-absorbed asshole with no personality or depth. That sucked all the hotness right out of him, and I didn't associate with him at all. Yet.

"Yeah Steven. We know what you are trying to do bitch." Lindsay sneered.

"Oh really?" I raised an eyebrow and leaned against a post. "And what's that?"

"Don't play dumb bitch–."

"If you call me bitch one more time you're gonna have hard time speakin' at all when I get done with ya." I snarled at Lindsay taking a step forward. The tone of my voice made everyone silent for a second.

"We'll be back Riddleton." Lindsay glared at me threateningly, and in unison they all turned and left.

"I'll be counting the moments 'til we meet again." I called after them, rolling my eyes and turned away. I hated turning down a good fight, but I hardly think three on one would been fair. Two I could've taken, but Lindsay is a hell of a fighter, we go back a long time. We've fought twice and both times I've won, though narrowly, my pinky and ring fingers have never been the same from the impact of her big fat head. Come to think of it I've never lost a fight. There are three things that I take pride in. One, my fighting ability, two, my being the valedictorian of my school, and three; (though more secret) my ability to talk to snakes.

Dear Minerva,

I just read about Albus' death. Is it really true? Saints preserve us if it be so. I write to you now in fear and apprehension. Now that Albus is gone should I still go along iwth the said plan? Should I continue to hide her or should I take her to your for further safe keepng now that the war has really begun. For the past few weeks she has been dreaming of the Potter boy, she claims to have conversed and even touched him. To make things worse she seems to be having visions of the Dark Lord. She has intense pain when dreaming of him, and I have to give her a sleeping drought and healing potions to take the pain away. Please tell me what I should do. I am losing hope.

Sincerely,

Margaret Nagler

Minerva McGonagall read the note out loud to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore twice. The eyes of the wizened former headmaster blazed with worry.

"What should we do Albus?"

"We should have a little talk with Harry." said the portrait removing his half-mood spectacles and wiping them on a cloth he produced from his midnight blue robes.

"Right now? I believe he's at the Burrow for his birthday party."

"As soon as possible Minerva. It is rather important." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling with renewed mirth. "In the mean time. I think a short note to Mrs. Nagler is in order."

Dear Margaret,

I know this must be hard for you, but the situation here is very complicated. We will talk to Harry and get more information from him, since owling is not that safe any longer. But please keep her in a low profile. Her silence is most needed at the moment. The wizarding world is in an uproar with the Dark Lord on the rampage every other day. Please, she needs to be discreet as possible. More information will be on the way. Remember: subtle.

M. McGonagall

"Yeah, I'm Kat Riddleton, what's it to ya?" I sneered down at the small girl.

"Uh, uh. Here!" she shoved a piece of paper in my hand and sprinted away, nearly falling over herself. I immediately felt sorry for her, I shouldn't have been so hard on her, but I was so on edge lately. Lack of sleep and pressure of school, job, and Lindsey poking her fat ass head in my business, (she's kept on telling me to stay away from Steven, personally, I didn't give a damn about the guy, he's an ass. But if she wanted me to stay away and openly threaten me, I should give her something to threaten me about – right?). I glanced down at the paper. It was in French, but I quickly translated it.

"You wanted to see me madame?" I asked as I walked into my favorite teacher, Cassiopeia Foncé's classroom.

"Oui, actually I believed you were the one wanting to do the talking, yes?" I grinned at her. She was very pretty, with her jet black hair, clear blue eyes, and tall elegant frame.

"Well, yes." I crumpled the letter and threw it ten feet into the trash can. "How did you know?"

"You seen very brooding lately." she turned to her desk. "Tea?"

"Ouais." I said continuing our conversation in French. "I'm missing Psychology right now."

"Oh, who needs Psychology anyway?" she laughed as she poured the pipping hot tea into my mug.

"What in the Sam Hill is goin' on here?" a loud English remark broke the beautiful flow of French.

"Bon matin Monsieur Lewis." she greeted the principal as if nothing were out of place. As if she weren't harboring a student (moi ) that should be in another class.

"Bon nothin' Cassie, now you know better. Kathryn is already behind in her Psychology class, she don't need you helpin' her slack off." Mr. Lewis said slowly. I didn't know how he knew that I was suppose to be in Hell, I mean Psychology class, but he did.

"Nonsense. Kat, I am sure is doing well in her unnecessary class."

"Unnecessary? Unneces– well I tell you what Cassie, French ain't that necessary neither." the fat man pulled off his hat (I'll give you, dear reader, three guesses what kind of hat it was), in frustration.

"Oh certainement monsieur, French can come in very handy."

"Oh yeah, where? Not nowhere in Texas."

"No? What about Paris Texas?" her eyes sparkled with mirth. How she came up with that one I will never know, but that is why she's the coolest teacher ever.

"Oh I surrender."

"You forgot to bring you white flag Mr. Lewis." I grinned. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me."Psychology class Miss Riddle. Tout suite." he laughed at his own little joke, that didn't even make sense.

"The man is hopeless." I said in French to Cassie. She giggled as he puffed up but he had no idea what I had said. "Salut Madame Foncé. Vois vous à déjeuner." (See you at lunch). I took off down the hallway, Mr. Lewis was trailing me, I made a turn as if to go to my class. He watched me through narrowed eyes as I walked down the hall. He turned the other way and so did I. Psychology was not my thing.

"Dammit!" Harry bellowed as he sat up in his bed.

"S'matter?" Ron grumbled as he rolled over to face Harry.

"Nothing, just a bad dream." for the longest time he had tried to forget that memory. He could if he really wanted to, and then he didn't have to dream it anymore. But something that happened that night, Harry didn't want to forget; the sound of his parent's voices as they encouraged him to hold on.

"Oi! Harry?" Ron was standing over him.

"Wha?" he glanced up at his best friend realizing that he had zoned out.

"I've been trying to talk to you."

"Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Yeah, when do you stop? Honestly I could hear you wheels clinking in that great head of yours." Harry grinned.

"What were you saying before paying me that compliment?"

"Er–" Ron blushed. "It was easier when you weren't paying attention." he looked around to make sure the three other boys were still asleep. "Have you talked to Hermione lately?"

"Yes Ron, I see her every day how could I not talk to her?"

"No I meant, like er – a serious conversation about us..." he trailed off, his ears turning scarlet.

"Oh, yeah... er – ahem." he sniffed. "Why?" Harry had tried his hardest not to be disgusted and appalled by the new revelation that Ron and Hermione discovered. That their tension wasn't really just tension. It was sexual tension.

"Did you really?" he leaned over towards Harry. "What'd she say about me."

"Listen Ron, I'm not in the mood for this conversation." Harry said sinking back down into his bed.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure you were... okay with... us." he said. "I wanted to make sure you didn't want her or something." he scratched his head awkwardly.

"Ron, anyone who comes in contact with me, or is considered my friend is in danger. How could I even consider 'wanting' Hermione that way, when she's already almost gotten killed by just being just my friend." Harry couldn't help but sound bitter.

"Oh go on Harry." Ron said meekly.

"It's the truth, everyone I've ever loved is dead. I can't risk getting anyone else killed."

"Oh, what are you going to do lock yourself in your old cupboard under the stairs? Are you doing to shut yourself off from all your friends?" Ron sounded angry even if he was whispering. Harry dropped his head. "I know mate, too much depends on you, but we're here to help you. I mean where would we be without good ol' Hermione... and her notes."

"Well we certainly wouldn't be in N.E.W.T level classes." Harry grinned trying his hardest not to sound as depressed as he felt. As much as he thought of what he just confessed to Ron, he had never said it aloud, and now that he had. It was just too real for him.

"There now, we are managing to do rather nicely in our studies, we'll be Aurors yet." Ron said with a triumphant smile. He turned to go back to his bed but then turned back around. "What were you dreaming of mate?"

"The graveyard." he slouched down into his covers.

"Oh..." That's all Ron had to say, it had enough remorse in that one assessment that one of Hermione's long winded speeches.

"Thanks Ron." Harry said quietly. He needed someone to talk about Kitty, but he wasn't sure if either one of his friends were ready for him yet. But both Lupin and McGonagall assured him that it would be alright if he did so, although Harry wasn't sure if they was telling him the truth about her.

"Hey Harry."

"What?"

"Happy Birthday." Harry grinned as he consulted his watch, 12:50 a.m. He was 17 now. Just then an owl burst through the attic window with a screech of alarm.

"Blimey buggery Hell!" Ron shouted sitting up. The owl flew over to Harry and dropped the letter on his chest.

Dear Harry,

Happy Birthday! I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, not that I didn't see you at the wedding. But it'll be good to see you, and Ron of course. But I've been away in France for so long I think I forgot the sound of your voice. Anyway I wanted to tell you happy birthday first, and tell you that I discovered how to tell you happy birthday a la Francois, I'll tell you tomorrow!

Yours,

Hermione Granger