What Else Can We Do?

Part 1:

The Dreamers

Chapter 2:

'Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.'

~ 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' by T.S. Elliot

It felt as if he were still half in a dream, slow and unwilling to wake. He couldn't remember a time he felt so warm, when all of him was so quiet, his mind still, his heart not aching. There was a momentary murmur of panic, but sleep soothed it away as quickly as it came with soft and guiding hands. He never knew waking to be so peaceful when his life was full of alarms, insistent school bells and shrill aunts wanting the breakfast cooked.

Harry shifted a little to make himself more comfortable and nestled his face further into his pillow. He couldn't help but smile at the texture of it, so soft and warm, unlike what he remembered. It felt decadent in a way only sleep could make it. It reminded him of waking up after that first night back in Gryffindor Tower after a long restless summer. The soft snores of his dorm mates were always welcome after the silence of Dudley's second bedroom. Sleepily, he decided he quite liked waking like this. It felt like wading through warm honey.

It was that thought he blamed later, when he tried to rub his eyes clear of sleep, for the blank moment where he froze, not quite comprehending that there was hand holding his.

He was not alone.

The shock was like being doused in cold water. He slipped his hand free and tried to move away, but an arm held him in place. Someone was behind him.

He pried the arm off and rolled away, a profanity on the tip of his tongue, fear readying its strike like a snake. But what he saw made him freeze, every word dying in his mouth, all thought grinding to a halt.

Before him lay his two best friends. His naked best friends, to be exact.

He couldn't help staring. It was all too bizarre not to. Hermione lay half on her back, Ron's head in the crook of her neck. From their positions, he had been in the middle, he realised dazedly. Ron had been the one holding him. It had been Hermione's hand in his, her other in his hair, her chest his pillow. He blushed at that and looked away, but the image stayed with him.

It was then, when he was desperately trying to look anywhere but at them, Harry decided to ignore his own glaring nakedness and do something productive instead: like figure out where the hell they were. He concentrated on the spitfire restlessness under his skin, finding it easier to feel that instead of the increasing desire to hide in some dark corner and never again emerge.

They were in a cavern of some sort, one that was wide and tall, almost barrel-shaped. The roof was full of natural arches that wove into each other with an organic gracefulness, pierced here and there by shafts of light. Great pillars of stone stalagmites bore the ceilings weight. It was greener than he expected. He could hear moving water, the splash of waterfalls, and he figured it was a stream the trees were crouching over protectively. Moss grew in great swathes on the rocks and a myriad of vines curled down the shafts onto the pillars, filtering the light a clean pale green.

Just as he was making to get up, intent on exploring further on foot, a shriek stopped him in his tracks.

Following the sound, he looked round to see a very red Hermione. She was trying to cover up as much she could, but it was a losing battle. Hands too small and breasts too big, he observed dryly. He'd never seen Ron turn that shade of crimson before.

'D-Don't you dare look!' she cried, indignant. 'Turn around! Now!'

Harry obliged but not before Hermione did, and another almost involuntary glance down revealed more than he considered he'd ever see. Their school uniform was unfortunately proficient at hiding how . . . Harry shook his head slightly, unsure and distracted by the sudden strange turn of his thoughts. He knew he shouldn't be thinking things like that, especially of Hermione. It didn't seem . . . right.

The awkward seconds dragged themselves into agonising minutes as the three of them stood with their backs to each other, naked and mortified. It was Hermione who finally broke the silence.

'Who here has a wand?'

Both Harry and Ron couldn't help snickering.

'No, really,' Hermione said, tone annoyed. Harry was pretty sure she was glaring. He had to smile.

'I don't have mine,' Ron said. 'Don't have anything but my birthday suit, I'm afraid.'

Harry would've grinned at that if he hadn't realised that he didn't have his either. He hadn't even thought of his wand. 'Me neither,' he said, slightly stunned. His wand had always been at his side since first year, there as a handy tool, a ready weapon when needed, an integral part of him being a wizard. To not have it left him feeling bereft all of a sudden, like he had lost an old friend.

Hermione sighed. 'So we don't have any wands, clothes or food - '

'And we're in a bloody big cave,' Ron added helpfully.

'-and we're stuck in a bloody big cave that's Merlin knows where,' Hermione continued after a beat. 'Tell me again how the hell do we get ourselves into situations like these?'

'Harry's little known middle name is 'Trouble'. We're usually just along for the ride,' Ron joked despite the edge to Hermione's voice. Being naked seemed to agree with Ron. It was either that or Ron was using the total sum of his teaspoon's worth of emotional range to realise that his friends were close to panicking.

'You were the first one awake, right, mate?' Ron asked. Before he could reply, Harry's mind happily supplied him with the sight he awoke to in detail. He was suddenly glad that Ron and Hermione couldn't see his face. Or other parts of him. Merlin, this was awkward.

'Yeah,' he answered quickly, flustered.

'Did you see anything?'

'Not much besides the obvious,' Harry said, scanning the cavern.

'I don't remember anything but a light . . . ' Ron muttered almost as if to himself. Harry blinked, then felt a rush of gladness that he hadn't been alone for that, even if guilt followed as a ready companion.

'Yeah, the pain made it hard to concentrate,' Harry said with a shudder.

'It couldn't have been a Portkey,' Hermione said decisively after a thoughtful moment of silence. Harry wasn't surprised that she was once again taking refuge in facts. It was Hermione's way. It never failed to make him feel reassured. 'It didn't feel like Apparation either. What could have brought us here that instantaneously?'

'I don't know,' Harry breathed out. The question was like a plug being pulled. He'd never felt this drained. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Harry turned around without thinking, mouth opening to change the subject, only to hear a soft footstep. Both Ron and Hermione startled at the sound and turned too, eyes wide with alarm when they glanced his way.

He swore he heard a voice before he felt the curse. His body tensed as it froze on the spot. When none of them fell to the floor, none of their arms and legs snapping together, he numbly realised that it must be a variant of the Full Body-Bind Curse.

'Good morrow,' a gruff voice said before its owner stepped out from the shadows.

Harry would've gasped if he could. The man before them was old, and it made for a potent presence. He was borne down by an ancient weight that rested on weary shoulders, so much so that it took Harry a moment to realise that he looked like Albus Dumbledore underneath it all.

But it was not the Dumbledore he knew.