What Else Can We Do?

Part 1:

The Dreamers

Chapter 9:

'I am no prophet – and here's no great matter;

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, I was afraid.'

-'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' by T.S. Eliot

His hand was moving, a slow twist from palm to its back and over again. Shadows followed the movement and went beyond it, slipping off skin one by one, forming tendrils. They stretched out tentatively, as if searching blindly for light. Waking in the Dreaming was like coming to mid-thought and not missing a beat. Lately, it seemed natural to let himself be swept off, to not wonder why. Some part of him knew that every dream brought them closer to the Change, but it was easier not to care when he was in them. It struck Harry once, during those beginning dreams when everything was new and chaotic, that maybe it was because he was less human here. How quickly he shied away from that realisation was an afterthought, hardly felt. For all that had happened, there were still a few mercies to be had and that was one of them.

'You linger here, more so than the others. Why is that, I wonder?'

Azadeh's words whispered close, ghosting his skin, shivering their way up his spine. Harry watched the shadows part from his hand, a cluster of worries well on their way to becoming a fear, soon a nightmare. He flicked them away, quietening the growing murmur, the crowding doubts. They hadn't dared take hold, not in the face of his newfound power. If he had his way, the nightmares never would. It was the only thing of real worth the Change had given him.

'It's quieter here,' Harry said, turning.

Azadeh laughed. Harry stared, wide-eyed, drinking in the sound as if engulfed the dream he'd been wandering. The wild wood that loomed above and around him moved, great swaying trees in the grip of a wind. Everything warped in the ripple that spread outwards, showing how near the dreamer was to waking. He struggled to find words to describe the laughter and the closest he came to was a sensation, a taste: sunlight beating against his back and metallic blood coating his mouth.

'How little you know,' Azadeh murmured, reaching out to cup his cheek with a hand. Harry moved his head away and daemon's eyes changed, smile slipping away to nothing. 'Our power lies in pleasure,' he began, stepping too close, 'So I ask you: why do you not want that?'

Harry stayed very still, peering up at Azadeh, not liking the slow burning curiosity he found in that gaze. 'It's not a question of want,' he replied, unable to look away.

'Then of what?' Azadeh whispered, angling his head to the side, long strands of hair falling across his face.

'I don't know,' Harry breathed out, trembling. It was too much, being this near. The light with which Azadeh glowed was bright, showing more than it should – how the nightmares pooled at Harry's feet, the shadows oil-slicked as hands grew from the rupture, grabbing and tearing at his legs.

'You do.'

Harry stumbled back with a cry, mind blank with panic, shaking as he breathed fire onto his hands. He barely felt the heat, the way his skin cracked and blackened, as he watched the nightmares burn at his touch. When the smoke cleared, he turned to find Azadeh crouching by the ashes, one splayed hand in it, sifting.

'How strange your mind is . . . So human still.' Azadeh brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting them. His smile returned, widening as he stared up at Harry. 'This is the stuff we thrive off – this uncertainty, this bitterness. And underneath it all, there's always desire. If you allowed yourself to, you'd know it to be the sweetest of delicacies. And how it wipes away all the rest until only it remains.'

An aching pain shot up Harry's arm as he rolled his hand into a fist. The daemon's words slithered into his chest and pressed hard against his ribcage. Breathless, he stood there, knowing only he wanted out. But how would he ever be with the bond? No matter how far he pushed himself from Ron and Hermione, they'd find him. Their emotions, like bright lights blinding, darting, were there, would always be there, like the yearning to touch, to be close, to just . . . It made him feel as if his skin was tight, stretched over fever thoughts and frustration. Madness. How could anyone want to be just this? Most days he was hunger and need and not much else. He hated what this was making of him, how trapped and scared he was, how desperately sad.

But despite it all, there was happiness too. Like sunlight filtering through mist and fog, cold but inviting, edging towards hopeful by the day. It was beyond maddening, as ruinous as those small thoughts that hit the hardest. Like how he'd miss waking up next to them, or how soft Ron's kisses were on his forehead, as comforting as those small squeezes Hermione gave his hand. He shook his head to clear it, but the ache and the confusion stayed like a rock in his chest, full of sharp edges. Harry just wanted to feel steady. Steady like before Sirius died.

'To be human is to be lost in the Dreaming,' Azadeh said as he stood up, rising in one graceful movement. 'Only the Change will give you the surety you want.'

Harry swallowed, throat dry. 'Why do you even care?' he managed.

The daemon's smile stretched near to a grin. He reached out and ran fingertips across Harry's lower lip slowly, ponderously. 'Does that matter?' he asked and Harry flinched away before he could stop himself. Azadeh followed and gripped his chin, forcing his head up. 'There is a place you could go. Where you can face your innermost desires, those ones you hardly know yourself. There you can claim them. In the Ever Dream, you can find some measure of relief. Every being has one – a dream at our core, nestled close to the soul, ever flowing, keeping all in its waters. From our darkest fears to the happiest of moments, mixed with the twisted and pure, running deep and true. You could find yourself there, my child.'

'Why are you telling me this?'

'Is it not a teacher's duty to guide their student?'

'You know it's not as simple as that,' Harry retorted, grabbing Azadeh by the wrist to make him let go. He stepped back, eyes dark with suspicion. 'And I don't think you intend on only being a teacher to us – to me. I will not be owned.'

'Think what you will. But remember this: the Dreaming is yours now, just as it is mine. Remember those human dreams you had, how lost you were in them, where anything and everything was possible, both terrible and great. And know you have the power to make what you want of this place. Let yourself imagine that. No rules, no consequences, no one to say it's wrong.'

Harry took in a deep breath and let it out in a rush. Shivers ran down his arms and without knowing it, he was gripping them, rubbing up and down absently. Azadeh had never sounded so enticing. And even as warning bells went off in his head, it was hard to find the words, the will to refuse all the daemon had said.

He thought of the oblivion he only knew when he fed – when there were hands and mouths and bodies and panting breath that burned away thought and left only want. When there was heat and the building tide sweeping him under and away. . .

It's a game to him, Harry thought, feeling sick. Always has been. Always will be.

'Why me?'

Azadeh chuckled. 'Why not you?'

With a noise of disgust, Harry felt the distrust settle, poisoning the very ground. Grass shrivelled and died underfoot, the soil changing from springy to brittle stone. The trees gave into the wind and cracked, the bark crumbling to sand as the trunk petrified white underneath, the roots like claws in the wreckage. And through it all, Azadeh stood, eyes glittering with amusement as if he'd already won.

xXx

Harry followed the thread, quickening his steps to stop the taut tugging at his chest. They never quite knew what it would manifest as – the bond was quicksilver, sometimes a siren's call, the next a captivating scent. Now it was shining like starlight, leading him onwards.

He saw her there on the rocky shore, at the heart of a new dream, her back to him, arms wrapped around her knees. Hermione was staring out into the mist that was rolling in to settle over the water. A silver mottled stain had spread up her back, the skin losing its opaqueness, revealing a pulsing glow below. Harry's eyes flickered to his own arm to see the same, hating how the fear trickled in, not needing another reminder of the Change to come. It struck Harry then that her being naked was an afterthought, that he now knew that body in ways he never thought he ever would, that she knew his just as well. A months ago he'd have passed this all off as the strangest of dreams, but now . . .

This is it, Harry thought, stunned. This is my life now.

A ball of light weaved its way across the surface of the water, leaving the smallest wake behind. It took one look and he knew. It was the very same one that'd been following Hermione about the Dreaming of late. It was harmless, but the fact that Hermione couldn't leave it alone was worrying. It was curious how such pure and powerful emotions emanated from it. He'd never felt it project this much joy before though.

'Come away, love,' Ron said softly as he crouched down next to her, a thread like Harry's connecting him to her.

'But-' Hermione started as she swung her head round to stare up at him dazedly.

'You know it's a dream,' Ron said, fingers sinking into her hair as he kissed her forehead. He glanced up at Harry, a look beckoning him closer. Tension drained from Hermione's shoulders as he drew near, the bond shimmering contently about them.

'I can't leave him, Ron,' Hermione replied, gripping his hand tight, anxious eyes seeking out the ball of light again.

'We won't. We'll be right here,' he murmured, pulling her close. Having someone to love and care for seemed to centre Ron, giving him purpose, and Harry sometimes forgave everything because of that. It let him become the very best of himself, more of who Harry had always known was there underneath – it cut away the fear, the doubt. If he were being honest, Harry envied him for that, more than he'd like to admit.

When Ron coaxed Hermione into standing, Harry's heart sank. He'd had hoped for a reprieve. But the need was there, waking up with them simply being near. He didn't know what to do. These days, he never did. How long would it be until he lost himself to it? Was this need even human? Or was it something that came with the Change? He had nothing to compare it to. Ron and Hermione were his first lovers and would be his last.

He wanted quiet, like before the bond. When he'd been just one person and knew a place beyond grief, where his life was his own and Sirius was alive. And had the capacity to hope.

But there was no going back. He was undone, unmade – less and more than he was before. It hit him then that there would never be a reprieve. He was too full of them and that would never change. The despair was biting.

But he didn't want it to stop. The mere thought of going back, of being alone like before, hurt more.

Too much, he thought. There was no air to breathe. Nowhere to go. This was it. This was all it would ever be. Him and some impossible task. No choices. And people he cared about in the crosshairs. He gasped, raw with hurt, staring blankly down at the ball of light as it playfully weaved its way through his legs, only to nudge his hands.

'Harry, what's wrong?' he heard Hermione ask. 'I can . . . I can - ' She paused, gaze distant still, lost under a frown. 'Harry, don't. Don't go.'

He yanked the threads between them, howling through bared teeth as the bond stretched and clanged to the ground as chains. Harry tore at the dream to rip a way out, knowing through the panic that they'd follow. Knowing there'd be no peace until he knew, until he had something to hang onto. He was moving before there was the thought to do so, running blindly from dream to dream, Azadeh's words following him.

The Ever Dream, he thought and it anchored him.

Like a moth to a flame, Harry went, going further into himself than he'd ever gone before. Past the point of Legilimency, out of reach of Occlumency. It wasn't quite like falling, but it was the closest he could get to describing it. Disjointed images, packed with bursts of feeling that very nearly overwhelmed him, flickered into life around him, a din of noise and voices swooping past like cars on a motorway. He suddenly felt ground underfoot and he stood at the top of a stair that wove its way with the rock face down to the bottom of a canyon. In the sky above, his Changing core was a supernova, too bright to bear. He descended, feeling for crooked handholds as he went. In the darkness, particles of light drifted as a glow emanated from below. He felt it before he saw it and jerked his hand off the wall as quickly as he could, eyes wide. Shadow nightmares lazed like glaciers against the black granite rock face, sloping towards him.

They breathed.

Harry dared not move for a long time. But the nightmares didn't either, breathing evenly as if they slept like Harry's body did in the Waking. Warily, he carried on, down to where a river ran, the waters alive with changing colours, illuminated with a glow that danced in step with the flow.

'Harry, stop!' he heard Hermione yell. Harry glanced back at her over his shoulder, just as Ron caught up. He turned back to the river, reaching out with both hands, wanting nothing more than to sink into its waters. In that moment, he knew he'd be happy never knowing anything else.

Pain daggered through his chest. Harry stumbled back with a howl, turning to find Hermione preparing to yank on the chain between them again. 'What the hell?' Harry yelled, the words loud even with the roaring in his ears.

'Funny, that's what I was about to say,' Ron retorted caustically.

'I don't know what you think you're doing, but I want you two to leave me alone. Now,' Harry said, voice dark and low with anger.

'If you take one more step, so help me I will do worse,' Hermione replied, eyes blazing, tightening her grip on the manifestation of the bond between them.

'What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, mate? Do you even know where here is?' Ron asked, punctuating his words with tightly coiled gestures. If Harry wasn't livid, he would've marvelled at how angry Ron was. He'd never seen him like this.

'I do!' Harry bit out. 'And you have no right to be here.'

'Oh, we have full right to stop you from being a total idiot,' Hermione cut in. 'He told you about it, didn't he?'

'Who told me what?' Harry retorted.

'Don't act thick. Did you think Azadeh wouldn't try the same on us?' Ron asked, leaving Harry feeling oddly betrayed. Why hadn't they told him? Why hadn't they? 'This is your Ever Dream, Harry.'

'And?'

'You don't mess with it. What it'll show you isn't real.'

Hysterical laughter bubbled up out of him. 'Is anything these days?' Harry burst out. 'We're in the Dreaming, for Merlin's sake!'

'There's a reason dreamers don't go this far, Harry. Hell, why even daemons like Azadeh don't. Too many beings lose themselves in their Ever Dreams,' Hermione said, sounding sensible like always. So bloody sensible, enough to set his teeth on edge.

'So you don't think I can be trusted?'

'No, I don't,' Hermione answered bluntly. 'Not when you're like this. How can you trust any of the decisions you make now? You're in a dark place, Harry, and I know it's hard. But put it this way: what would you say to me if our places were swapped? Would you let me lose myself?'

'Don't try twist this around. Just don't.'

'You're one of the best people in my life, Harry. But I know that if you go in, you won't come out. And you'll take us with you. The bond will make sure of that,' Hermione added, her bitterness cutting. 'We have nothing else but each other in this world and that's dangerous. We have to watch ourselves and each other. It's so very easy to be swept away. Don't you dare think I haven't felt it. I've wanted to run away – many times over. But wanting isn't enough of a reason.'

'Then what is?' Harry asked despairingly.

'Nothing is.' There was a hardness to her voice that sent shivers down his spine. 'Not when we are needed by so many, whether they know it or not. I know we will end this war and that is good enough for me.'

'But why does it have to be us?'

The steel in her voice lessened. It was hard to bear the empathy he saw in those eyes. 'We've been robbed of many things, Harry, choice most of all. All we have left is how we chose to deal with what we've been shouldered with.'

'I'm tired of talking,' Harry began and couldn't stop. 'I'm sick and tired of dealing, of just fucking carrying on - '

'Then let us in,' Hermione whispered, close now, somehow crossing the distance between them without him realising it. 'Let us feel it. Let us in and let go.'

'I don't know what – I don't - ' Harry babbled, biting back the tears, wanting to hide, to huddle in a ball. He hated Azadeh suddenly, for the vulture he was. But Hermione kissed him, drawing him out the pain. When she leaned back, Harry followed, making a noise of want. Ron hushed him, smoothing his hair.

'There's something you can hold onto, Harry,' he heard Hermione say, as if from a distant place. 'It's this: you want this. You want us. Whether we are your lovers or your friends. Let that ground you.'

'You're too much in your head,' Ron continued in a murmur. 'Let us take you out of it.'

You're in my head, Harry thought, exhaustion washing over him as the rage drained away. You're in my heart. Not even my magic was spared. You're my everything now.

'This isn't us,' Harry tried weakly, not really knowing why he did. 'This need is using us. It's not us.'

'It is now,' Hermione replied, firmly but kindly. 'Once that would've been true, Harry, but not anymore.'