Orokid: Personally, I don't really know how I got this ending- I just know that I sat down one night, determined to actually finish one of my friggin' chaptered fanfics, and this is what happened. I hope you guys like it. In parts, you'll hate me. It others, you'll really hate me. Still, reply and tell me what you think, okay? I will love you guys forever!

Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter or anything that has to do with him. Still, if I did own it, it would be Harry and Hermione the whole way! Hell yes! Lol. But I have one more disclaimer to make- Do not kill the author for the ending!

Chapter Eight

A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes…

Harry slowly opened his emerald eyes as his need for sleep and good dreams seemed to lessen more and more into nothingness. His dreams filled with such a happiness that one could not describe drowned as his orbs fluttered open to greet the new day, and the young man who had seemed to have lost his will to live after his godfather's death had allowed his surroundings to return to his consciousness once more. Images he had thought to have left behind back at the place he had called home welcomed him with a warmness that only it had.

Once more, Harry Potter was back in that comfortable chair he loved oh so dearly, a book laid across his chest, open and several of the pages folded over due to his poor sleeping habits. Again, he was across from the flaming fireplace where he had once had a conversation with his godfather so long ago, the one that offered both heat and a blanket of warmth that could put any student to sleep.

Yet several things seemed to race through the young hero's mind as he took his time to glance about the room, and none of them seemed to be about sleeping.

How had be gotten back to Hogwarts after he had fallen asleep back at Saint Mungo's? Where was his beloved 'Mione? Why wasn't she right there with him? How was her unborn child? Had Voldemort somehow gotten a hold of his precious love? Why had that nightmare of a man taken them from him now, when he was at his most useless state of being? Was that why he had grabbed them? Because Harry was weak and unreliable as of then and thus couldn't fight back whether his life depended upon it?

Everything within the Boy-Who-Lived seemed only to make him glower at the thought of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named harming Hermione and her baby just because he had a bone to pick with him. It only seemed to show just how much of a coward this villain truly was, and it only made him angrier by the second.

But that still didn't explain why Harry was there on his favorite chair in the place he called home, his potion's book sprawled upon his chest as though he might've been studying (yeah right) rather than searching for a flat or home in which the three of them could share. He had better things to do than study for a course in school that he would rather die a thousand deaths than take for a second time. Well, as long as Severus was to be his professor, he would…

Besides, he had things to do, errands and the such, and he couldn't waste his time with things like schoolwork during the summer. There was a flat (or home) he had to find, a baby's room he had to furnish and paint prior to its actual birth, a woman to keep calm at all times (since he feared her mood swings more than Voldemort himself), a world to protect and save… The seemingly usual things as of now.

Okay, he had to focus right then… Why in the name of Merlin was he back at the school? And why wasn't Hermione there with him? And was his over-active imagination actually right? He didn't know, but he knew better than to allow his heart to explode by his creative mind causing him a heart attack.

Still, the panic was there inside him, and he wouldn't show it until the appropriate time…

"Her-Hermione!" Before he knew it, he was on his feet and racing out of the Gryffindor dormitories, heading for a place he believed he could find her. He hadn't ever known himself to rush through the halls as fast as he had, and it seemed as though others that he went to school with seemed to agree with that thought of his. He slipped and slid as he turned, falling on his face a few times and skidding onto his knees others, but there was only one thought that remained in his mind throughout the entire time- he had to find Hermione and protect her. Whether it was from Voldemort or Ron (although they seemed to be the same person in his books), he just had to protect her.

The first thing he got when the had (accidentally, mind you) slammed the library doors open was many, many eyes and a very loud shushing from Madam Pince, as well as a quiet reprimanding that he wasn't quite paying much attention to. His mind was focused on finding her, finding his beloved 'Mione, and that was all that he was going to do. Couldn't they understand? His emerald orbs gazed about the room, trying to determine who was who amongst the multitude of eyes that he saw. He made sure to look at them all, deciphering them as much as he could as he did his best to focus through the many distractions. Brown, brown, green, blue, grey (bloody bastard never hung out in the library before…), blue, brown, blue, blue, hazel, brown, green-

"Harry!" A loud whisper caught his attention, and he immediately turned to see who had called him. Still, it didn't take him much too long to figure that out since her voice seemed only to haunt him ever so much while he dreamed. The young man made his way over to her, taking her hand (although she had looked at him oddly when he had done so), ignoring Madam Pince completely as she tried to yell at his rude behavior without actually yelling.

The first thing he took to noticing was the fact that there was no lump that he had grown used to rubbing, to pressing his fingers against during the nights when only he was awake. Had Voldemort done something with the child? Anger built up inside the male at the thought, and he felt Hermione's hand offer him a calm reassuring squeeze, and taking in that smile of hers seemed to make everything alright again whether it was or not. That inferno that he had felt seconds ago was only an ember when he was around her, and that wouldn't ever change- she just seemed to have that affect over him.

Still, the Boy-Who-Lived couldn't withhold his joy that at least she was away from the harm he had thought her to be in, and he wrapped her in his strong and loving arms around her, holding her as though she were his last lifeline. "Thank God… you're safe, Hermione. I can't tell you how happy I am that you're safe."

"Harry, what's the matter with you?" she asked him lightly, pushing out of his arms gently so not to hurt his feelings, staring at him as the library seemed to calm somewhat after the commotion he had made. Pulling her hand from his as he reached for it again, she reached for his shoulders and forced him to sit on the nearest chair she could find. "You've been acting oddly. Is…" She looked either way, hoping to see that no one was paying attention to their hushed conversation. "Is Sirius's death really getting to you, Harry? You can talk to me."

He looked at her, dumbfounded, not sure why she was saying such things as of right then. Why wasn't she pregnant? Why were they at school? Why was everyone looking at him like he was insane? And why couldn't he answer any of those questions? "But… you- you're…" His mind slowly began to work through the time since he had awoken minutes upon minutes ago, and he began to piece the puzzle together. Still… it had been too real! It couldn't have been… Right? "Haven't you and Ron been dating behind my back?" he asked dejectedly, just trying to make sense of the entire situation that was at hand.

"God no, Harry!" she exclaimed, probably a bit louder than what one might think was necessary since heads seemed to swivel their way. The bushy haired young woman blushed in embarrassment, hiding herself somewhat from those that had looked by amercing herself into their conversation. "God no, Harry. What would make you think such things? You know that…" She took a side glance at the red haired boy who currently sat with Dean and Ginny, laughing softly about something or another, and he did his best to stifle the smile that had come to his face as a disgusted look came upon hers. "Well, whatever it is, you know about it. I can't stand the thought of winking at him, let alone snogging him. I don't think that there's a bloke I can think about doing that to right now." Hermione looked back at Harry, and her teasing expression once more turned to worry. "Harry, you can talk to me. You know that too."

He opened his mouth, but quickly closed it, figuring that it was better to stay quiet as of then. Who would believe him, the boy who couldn't seem to sleep more than five hours a week? It would only seem ludicrous to her if he even tried to explain it. And his feelings? Those would be too hard to hide from her if he told her the story, and it would be harder yet to pretend that he didn't feel something each time they were together- and so, he shook his head no and smiled. "It was nothing- just… just a dream, Hermione. Don't worry about it."

He rose from his seat, and she didn't stop him from leaving when he stood up to go- it was better that way, and both of them knew it. It was a dream that he had to get over, and he had to understand that she was all she could ever be- not with Ron.

Still…

The young woman sat herself back down in front of the book that she had been reading, flipping it a few more pages before finding herself face to face with a photograph of both she and Harry, months older than they were now, and standing side by side. One hand was around her waist, holding her closely to him, and his other hand was patting her large belly…

With a sigh, Hermione closed the large book that she had bought the year before, sliding it into her bag- what was done was done, and there was no use in thinking of it. He had done so much for her while they had gone through that time, and it was her chance to repay him, and so she had taken it without a second thought, using it that morning before he had woken from his slumber.

As she made her way out of the library, her careful hand had gone up to the small lump beneath her shirt above her breasts, taking hold of it gently so not to trigger it. She could still feel the cold metal of the time-turner device in her hand, despite the layers she wore…

FIN

Orokid: Like I said earlier, I would really appreciate it if you reply something about this chapter. It is the LAST of this story, so… I would like a little appreciation for finishing, if you would.. I would REALLY like it. Thanks.