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Harry woke up screaming.

Whipping and thrashing, his hands balling up tightly around his sheets; sweat dewing from head to toe, eyes bloodshot and hot from the tears that flowed down his pale cheeks. His roommates are already jolted awake, frightened and worried about their friend's outburst.

Ron was the first to reach Harry, arms wrapping around his friend from behind, and tightly, to keep him still; this only made it worse, because for a wild second Harry thought that his nightmare was reality, and that he was being held down by several Death Eaters at once -

"Harry!"

And then the Boys' Dormitory doors burst open, and Hermione ran inside, clad in her pajamas. Ron shot her a questioning look but let it go as she climbed into bed with them. Harry flailed wildly, and Hermione reached out to him, grasping his shoulders; her hands traveled to his face as she tried to get his attention.

"Harry! Harry! Harry, look at me! Shhh..."

His green eyes fell on hers, and they widened as he appraised her in shock. She was with him, actually with him, her hair in a messy bun, her pajamas simply put together like she always had them, and she still smelled like...like her. Hermione was here? How did she-?

"Shh..." Hermione shushed him in a soothing tone, caressing his face now. "Shh..."

Harry didn't realize he was still crying, because she was wiping his tears away with her thumbs.

"It's okay...it's okay..." she told him softly.

Harry was still, his chest still heaving as he continued to gaze into her eyes; Ron gradually began to let him go, and Neville, Seamus, and Dean backed away a step or two to give them space. Hermione pulled Harry close to her and he curled into her like a small child, seeking her warmth and comfort. Her heartbeat. His hands clenched around her sides, bunching up her shirt and causing it to ride up. The very scent of Hermione slowed his sobbing down until he stopped completely, and his hands moved to smooth down her backside, then back up again.

Hermione kissed the top of his head, running her fingers through his untidy locks. She wanted to cry because she hated seeing him like this. She knew he had nightmares but she didn't know it could get this bad. It worried her.

"How did you-?" It was barely audible, but she heard him.

She cupped his face, coaxing him to look at her. "Let's go downstairs."

Harry obliged, and the two left the room without looking back. He felt her eyes on him on the way down, but he didn't look at her. She held onto his arm and he didn't protest.

When they reached the Common Room, Harry sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, and Hermione got a fire going again before joining him.

"I woke up with a feeling that something was wrong," she whispered finally. "I knew something was urgent and...I had to get to you."

"Lucky you did. I thought you were dead." Even his own voice sounded off to him.

Hermione's eyes widened in fear. "Was...was your nightmare about...m-me?"

Harry nodded gravely.

"What...what happened-?"

"Hermione, please..." Harry begged desperately in a soft tone. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

Hermione studied his face closely, gradually nodding and deciding to let it go - for now. Scooting closer, she was starting to get hesitant all of a sudden. Should she touch him again? Would he want her to, or was she pushing the envelope? How close was too close at this point?

She's tired, very much so, but she's also worried for her best friend's well-being. If his nightmares were about her, then how often did they occur? Was it coincidental that she wasn't sleeping very well on the nights that he didn't, or was she overthinking things?

Chewing down on her bottom lip, she tried to catch his eye first before she did anything else.

Harry, meanwhile, was lost in thought. Every train led back to the girl sitting next to him. These dreams started when he began going to lessons with Dumbledore; it's all too much of a coincidence. He was at a loss here. Voldemort's never met Hermione at all, face to face ( thank Merlin - the very thought made him shake ); but whatever connection he had with the darkest wizard of all time was the worst one - their minds. Harry could unintentionally drift from the present in Hogwarts, to a dark alley where he, in the eyes of Voldemort himself, interrogated a poor man. There was no filter, no privacy, nothing. Voldemort could be accessing Harry's mind right now and he would never know.

Did Hermione really occur those often in his thoughts. He thought about her and Ron around the same, but...something's different. Something's definitely different. If it was the same, Ron would have been in that dream. If it was the same, even Luna had the potential to show up in that dream. But she didn't.

It was Hermione. It was always Hermione.

Whatever does this mean? Blimey, I'm confused, thought Harry. Voldemort is showing a sudden interest in Hermione and Harry doesn't like it. Not one bit.

He met her gaze. She was concerned. Confused. Frightened. Hesitant. Written all over her face. All over him; and he hated himself for it.

Sighing, Harry shifted back, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and began to press; coaxing her to lay down. The curiosity got the best of her, and she does anyway, wondering what he was trying to-

Oh.

A very cautious arm draped across her stomach, and she curled into him instinctively. From behind, he closed his eyes and sniffed her hair. Having her close was good enough for him. For now.

Hermione let her hand fall gently on top of his hand, tracing his knuckles absentmindedly. What was he thinking about? Was he in his right state of mind? Is she really liking this more than she should?

No, she always felt this way. They sought comfort in each other, and being physically close was just one of them. But they were never this close. Inexperienced Harry has never been the big spoon. Knowledgeable Hermione has never been the little spoon, but having read about it...Now she knew what the hype was about. This felt...nice...

"Harry?"

He stilled as she suddenly shifted, turning around to face him. Her movements only brought their faces closer, much to his chagrin. She didn't notice until she opened her pink mouth and started to speak.

But for a moment words failed her.

How often was Hermione close to his face? How many times did she hug him, kiss his cheek, ruffle his hair daily? Weekly?

No...this was different. Hermione may have been in his face, but it took her a moment to realize that she was in his face.

It then dawned on Harry that she was close enough to kiss him.

Wait, what?

His green eyes widened slightly. No, no, you're overreacting. You're tired. She's tired. You're anxious. Having her closer than normal isn't a bad thing. He could smell her vanilla and honey shampoo, he could see her lips part as they took in a steady breath or two, her chest barely brushing up against his as she did so and-

Suddenly, it's a very bad thing.

Hermione slowly reached for his face, what is she-?, but to his surprise ( and admittedly slight embarrassment ) she began to pull his glasses off his face instead. She became a radiant orange blur then, her face illuminated by the fire light, and Harry couldn't be more relieved that for once he couldn't see her.

He felt her shift again, Blimey, Hermione, until they were back to how they originally started. She wrapped his arm back around her, clutching his hand with her own, and he let his face fall into her hair again.

"Hermione?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you...remember...when we first met?"

He heard her giggle. Music to his ears. "It's something I could never forget. You in your cousin's clothes-"

"You and your bushy hair and bucked teeth-"

"Ron and his dirty nose-"

"And Neville's toad," they said together, laughing quietly as they reminisced. The days that were somewhat easier, yet he was just as miserable. No clue of his identity or who he really was. Zoom forward to Hagrid knocking down his door and telling him that he is a wizard, and even further - the day he met Hermione.

And he never would have thought that six years later he would be holding her like this. The bossy boots, addict to school, turned out to be one of his best friends and he can't imagine life without her.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I was thinking..."

He couldn't deny the way his heart jumped just then. "...Yeah?"

"We haven't seen Hagrid in a while -" Oh. "- so I was thinking that we could go visit him? You, Ron, and I?"

Harry yawned and nodded against her hair. "I don't see why not," he answered with a sigh.

Hermione trembled.

"Harry..."

"What?" He wanted sleep. Now.

"You know you breathing down my neck isn't at all distracting."

He felt his lips curve into a smirk. "Really?"

She gently slapped his arm. "Don't be so daft."

"I am not daft. I am tired and I wish to go to sleep."

"Then go to sleep."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"You're still talking."

Hermione's mouth dropped, and he laughed, if even possible, bringing them closer.

"Goodnight, Hermione." Thank you for being there. I don't know what I would do without you.

"Goodnight, Harry," she whispered back.

Sleep didn't take them away until the last dying embers of the flames finally burned out.

"You really don't remember what happened that night, do you?" Hermione was saying about a week later. She caught up with Luna in the corridor, and decided to walk with her to the Great Hall.

"No...I'm afraid I do not?" Luna replied. "Why ask me this now?"

"Well...I figured that you would bring it up in conversation?"

"Bring what up?" It's Cho who joins the conversation, now walking on the other side of Hermione.

Hermione blurted out a quiet, "Nothing" while Luna said, "I am not sure..." Cho, however, bless her, let that go and changed the subject. "Did you all sleep well at least?"

"I did." Luna nodded.

"I suppose," said Hermione.

"You're playing with your hair again. Nervous, are you?"

Hermione's fingers stilled, eyes wide as she realized that the raven-haired Ravenclaw was right. "I'm not nervous." Her gaze couldn't settle in one place. "What makes you say so?"

"First Draco, and now you?" Luna eyed the bookworm in mild fascination, her big eyes even wider than usual. "Hm, the wrackspurts sure are acting strange...I wonder why?"

"Do wonder, Luna." Cho smiled at her, then gave Hermione a concerned look. "Hermione, are you sure you're alright?"

Hermione nodded.

They reached the Great Hall but before they entered, a pair of arms wrapped around Hermione from behind and twirled her around. The bookworm squealed, hands automatically clamping down on hands that obviously didn't belong to her but were just as familiar.

"Harry!"

"Happy birthday," he muttered in her ear, pecking her on the cheek.

"You scared the bloody hell out of me!" exclaimed a flushed Hermione, whirling around at the sound of Ron's laughter.

"That was priceless, and you know it!" guffawed Ron, picking her up and kissing the opposite cheek.

"I hate the both of you!"

Harry and Ron snickered, knowing her anger wasn't going to last. Seeing their laughter, especially Harry's, is what brought a smile to her face, letting her arms fall to her sides. They didn't forget her birthday. Her two best friends who forget their homework and anything else on a daily basis remembered one of the most special days between the three.

Sighing, she ran at the two, throwing her arms around both boys, who had to duck their heads so she wouldn't have to strain. Chuckling, they shot each other a look over her shoulder, arms wrapping around her in enthusiasm.

"Don't make me vomit."

That sneer, recognizable from a mile away, was what broke the golden trio's group hug. Draco, rarely alone, walked up to them with his usual swagger. Ron tensed, he and Harry looking down at Hermione to see how this was going to play out.

"Be nice, Draco. It's my birthday," said Hermione, crossing her arms smugly. Ron didn't trust the Malfoy, and neither did Harry, but they suppressed their instincts to do something rash and kept rude comments to themselves.

"Is that supposed to be an excuse?" There was amusement in his eyes now, even if his smirk was sinister.

"It is today," Hermione countered with.

Draco tilted his chin up. "Fair enough," and came closer. When Hermione moved forward to meet him in the middle, Harry's hand, hidden in his robes, balled into a fist to restrain himself from yanking her back.

"Put her there - partner," Draco held out his hand.

Hermione grinned and reached out to shake his hand. He could be decent when he wasn't being an arse, and he was actually putting an effort to be somewhat nice. She had a feeling Pansy had something to do with it; she'll have to speak with her later.

"Happy birthday...you filthy little Mudblood," he said for old times sake, and Harry was as shocked as Ron when Hermione giggled; they were...teasing each other now? And it was somewhat friendly?

"Thank you...ferret," said Hermione, laughing harder at the feigned look of horror on his face.

And, knowing that Harry was looking, Draco brought the top of her hand up to his mouth to kiss it. Potter's reaction was absolutely hilarious, and he wished he had a camera to capture it all; he saw his nostrils flare, and his green eyes widen in horror and something that Draco knew was there-clear jealousy.

Hermione gave him a look of approval, lowering her hand before turning to everyone else, mouths dropped to the ground.

"It's a gift," a nonchalant Hermione said before giggling and walking back to the Great Hall, her hand grabbing Harry's when she passed him and Ron; she completely missed the pleasantly surprised look on his face and the pink staining his cheeks, entering the busy room with her friends trailing behind her.