A/N: So…..yes I've been away for 4 month and I am soo sorry. This chapter was a tricky one. As eventful as it was it's probably the chapter that has given me the most trouble in the course of this story. I tried my best to make you all feel the shift happening in their relationship while at the same time not losing the importance of what is going on and I hope that it translates through the words. I really hope this was worth the wait and let me just say, we will finally get the full-blown romance in the next chapter, just in time for Ron to come back ;) so as always please review, whether it be praises or what I can do to improve. Don't be shy. I love hearing from you. On with the story!

Dreams, dreams in a vivid slumber

We're connected, when I hold my breath

You're the only one who knows how to wake me

And Underneath the stars

Fall asleep with your hand on my heart

You won't let it skip a beat

"Never Dream Alone"- Ashlee Simpson

"I want to go to Godric's Hollow." said Harry bluntly the next morning.

Hermione put down her book to give him a concerned look.

"I know we've talked about it and I know you think it's a bad idea but I have a good feeling about this." said Harry firmly.

Hermione pursed her lips together, something she always did when she was going to argue.

"I think we should too." She replied softly.

"We'll just have to—wait…you agree with me?" Harry asked dumbfounded.

Hermione nodded with a faint smile on her lips.

"I know I've been against it for a while and I'm still not entirely happy to go but…we're not doing anything here and what if the sword of Gryffindor is there?" Hermione added. "If it's hidden anyplace, it would make sense for it to be his birthplace."

"Thank you it really means a lot." Harry said genuinely.

She smiled as she brushed a strand out of his eyes.

"Hermione..." he said uncertainly.

He had no idea what he was going to say. He just felt the intense need to fill the silence.

"I'll go and start packing." She muttered as she walked away.

In its entirety, it took only twenty five minutes to pack tent and all back into Hermione's magical bag. That was the beauty of magic. With one last heavy collective sigh; Harry and Hermione apparated from their safe spot and into the unknown.

The unpleasant squeezing feeling of apparation soon vanished and their feet found soft, but solid ground. The warm sound of Christmas carolers met their ears as they steadied themselves and took in their surroundings. A tightly knit group of muggles were singing in front of a couple outside of their home. They clutched their music notes tightly against the ferocious wind. Smiling genuinely despite the bitter cold. What a welcoming sight to see that there were still people out the unaffected by the war. Or at least they were doing a hell of job pretending that for a moment all was well.

"It's Christmas Eve." muttered Hermione softly. "I had no idea…"

Harry looked at her closely. He could see the sadness appear in her eyes once again. Her parents were undoubtedly on her mind. Harry instinctively stuck out his elbow for his support, which she took without any hesitation.

"I really don't feel comfortable with us looking like ourselves." Hermione whispered urgently, looking around in a paranoid fashion while still holding Harry's arm.

"We'll be fine." Harry reassured her. "Besides, this is where it all began. I need to be me."

They walked a little further down the cobble-stoned road that had just recently been scraped of snow. At the end of the road Harry could make out the steeple of a homely little church.

"There's a church." Harry said roughly. "Do…do you think my parents would be there?"

"Yeah, I think they would." Hermione whispered softly.

Harry kept his lead and walked them both to the church. There was a kissing gate separating them and the cemetery. The headstones were aligned in neat little rows, covered completely in snow. Harry let go of Hermione's hand for the first time since arriving at Godric's Hollow. He entered first, walking slowly to prolong the anticipation rising up in his chest. Hermione watched him go with a heavy sigh.

Somewhere deep in the snow lay the Potters, lively youths who met their untimely death defending all that was good. A couple who had barely gotten a chance to enjoy their time as parents. All because of a stupid prophesy. Hermione watched as Harry walked further into the graveyard; the quickness in his steps displayed his eagerness to finally meet his parents. The closest he would ever get to doing so. As someone who was facing her own heartache with the memories of her parents, it was hard to figure out if it was possible for it to be more painful to have had parents and lost them or never have had them at all.

Giving him his much needed space, Hermione took it upon herself to research. Surely Godric Gryffindor's hometown would be bound to have some useful information. She walked parallel to Harry, when a particular head stone caught her attention. It was bigger than any of the surrounding headstones, and much older. From the little parts that were not covered by stone, she could tell that the stone was most likely the oldest in the yard. She crept closer and wiped away the snow that covered it. She was expecting to find Godric Gryffindor's name; but instead she found one that looked faintly familiar: Ignotus Peverell.

"Hey Harry I think I found—"but what she was going to say died in her throat as she looked up to find Harry. "Something…"

Harry was standing deathly still, looking down at what could only be James and Lily's final resting place. She felt a pull at her heart as she felt tears form in her eyes. It was a struggle within herself whether to leave him to grieve by himself or give support. Ultimately, she decided it was only natural that she did what she did best; be there.

Hermione joined Harry who was sniffling slightly. She knew that it was not because of the weather but because he was crying. Her hand found his instinctively, giving it a strong grip of reassurance.

"Is that?..." she asked unnecessarily.

Harry nodded. He couldn't make his lips create a verbal reply.

Hermione looked down the names etched on the stone. Their names a few inches apart from each other's. It wasn't until she visibly saw the short gap in between their births and deaths that she realized just how young they had died. Only twenty one. They had just begun to live. She knelt down with her wand in her hand, with which she conjured up a beautiful wreath of red roses.

"Thank you." Harry breathed genuinely. ""Merry Christmas Hermione."

"Merry Christmas Harry." She whispered as she joined him once again.

She looked at him and felt so much pain at seeing such raw emotion on his face. She had seen Harry cry only one time before but it was much different to what she was experiencing now. This was the first time she was witnessing his grief for the parents he never got to know. A feeling she was starting to understand all too well. In loud silence, she stood next to him, giving her unwavering support. They stood there for a few more minutes, the bitter cold lost upon them as they both focused on the graves before them. After a while, Hermione was starting to feel uncomfortable, a strange feeling of being watched. Discretely, she took her head off of Harry's shoulder and looked in the direction she was sensing the presence from.

"Harry, I think there's someone watching us." She whispered nervously.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement. After a few minutes, he looked over in the direction Hermione had told him. Sure enough, in the distance he could see an elderly woman looking intently straight at them. It was then that Harry realized they had blown their cover. Surely the graves of wizards would be enchanted in the same sort of way Hogwarts was to muggles.

"I think we should go now." He said urgently.

He grabbed Hermione once again from the crook in her arm and slowly started to make their way back to the kissing gate. It was all it took for him to not pull Hermione into a run. They had to act as conspicuous as possible while still getting away. There was no way to know whether or not the elderly woman had indeed recognized them as wizards, but today was not the day to find out.

Once they were out into the cobbles stones of the narrow streets, Harry slowed down the pace. The Christmas carolers were no longer around. The streets were eerily deserted and quiet, no other sound but that of the howling wind filled their senses. In the distance Harry could see an obelisk figure standing proudly. As they walked closer, Harry realized that the figure was changing shape. It was only until he was standing right before it that he realized it was a memorial to a young family. HIS family.

"This is beautiful." He heard Hermione whisper to his right.

The snow fell on top of James, Lily and infant Harry's head, making the statues look as if they were wearing fluffy white berets. What perfect moment in life had they recreated into stone? James and Lily's anniversary? Or maybe just a simple happy moment with no important significance? Just a simple family bonding moment…one he would never remember. The smiling toddler didn't feel at all like it could've been him. He couldn't remember when in his short life he felt as truly happy as he appeared in that memorial. He felt his tears wanting to overcome him once again but fought his best against it. It was only when he started to feel an uneasy presence that he finally looked away and was shocked to find that the elderly woman that had been watching them back at the church was now right before him.

He felt Hermione's sharp intake of surprise next to him. The elderly woman looked haggard and downright frightening he had to admit. Her face was devoid of emotion, looking at him intently but unfocused at the same time.

"Mrs. Bagshot, what an honor." said Hermione's breathless voice.

Harry looked at her in confusion.

"Harry, this is Bathilda Bagshot. She's written many of our books for school." She explained. "She's a legendary historian."

She nodded in acknowledgement but soon turned away and walked in a different direction to the one they had just walked from. Harry looked at Hermione who looked back to him with a mixture of fear and confusion. He had a feeling that Bathilda wanted them to follow her. He grabbed Hermione's hand and followed Bathilda as she made her slow and wobbly paces

They walked by several houses, most of which had there lights turned off as its inhabitants had gone off to bed. As Bathilda's pace slowed down even more, a house caught his eyes. It was significantly destroyed, the roof had caved in and scorch marks of where spells met concrete told the tale of that faithful night sixteen years ago…it was his childhood home. There was no denying that it was.

"Hermione…" Harry nudged tilting his head to it.

"Is that?"

Harry nodded in response.

"People left messages on there…why didn't they just rebuild it?" he asked curiously.

"Maybe it can't be." Hermione explained softly. "Sometimes dark magic cannot be mended or erased…"

"This is where it all started." He said gravely. "This is where he murdered them."

He felt Hermione's supportive hand slither back into his shaking one. He looked down and smiled at her. As unsettling it was to see the place where his tumultuous journey began; it was nothing compared to seeing his parents grave. All his life he had had nothing concrete of them, actual proof of their existence. Even though he felt silly in feeling that way, there was a sense of closure to finally see his parents in a somewhat physical way.

"We should get going." Hermione prodded gently. "It's starting to get late."

Harry with Hermione's arm linked with his as he followed Bathilda who had only gone a few steps ahead at her slow pace. They followed her to a house that appeared to be abandoned. It seemed that in her advanced elderly age, she had stopped maintaining it. As they stood on the door step waiting for her to turn the handle, a strong mixture of decay and old hit them in waves. Once she managed to get the door open, she stepped back to let them through and slammed the door forcibly behind them which made them both flinch.

Harry boldly stepped deeper into the house surveying the neglect. As he did so, he felt the locket sink into him. It was an odd and new sensation. Perhaps Hermione was right, maybe Bathilda did have the sword. It would explain the locket's exuberant behavior. He tried his best to camouflage his discomfort to Hermione. The last thing he needed was to worry her even more.

"I'll help you." said Harry as he saw the elderly witch struggle with a candle.

Harry struck the match and lit the candle, even with the feeble light radiating from the candle, he could see how disorganized her house was. She should not have been left alone, not when she clearly could no longer look after herself.

"Do you have any family we can contact Mrs. Bagshot?" Harry asked.

She shook her head vigorously.

Harry walked over to the dusty mantelpiece where some ornate frames held moving pictures. One in particular caught Harry's eyes.

"Mrs. Bagshot who is that man?" he asked her.

"Who Harry?" Hermione asked curiously.

"I've seen him." Harry answered simply. "In a—

"Vision?" Hermione interrupted alarmingly. "Harry you told me you would try to—"

"Shhhh!" Bathilda hissed at them.

Harry and Hermione gave her an apologetic look which she ignored. She merely pointed her finger and her cataract filled eyes to the ceiling.

"I think she wants us to follow her up stairs." Hermione whispered to Harry.

As they both went behind her to follow, she turned around abruptly and pushed Hermione back.

"Hey!" Hermione complained.

"I think she wants me to follow her by myself." Harry explained as he tried to read Bathilda's emotionless face.

"I really don't think that's a good idea." Hermione breathed nervously.

"It'll be okay I promise." Harry reassured. "I'll be quick."

Harry could tell Hermione was still not convinced but thankfully, she didn't seem like she was going to argue. As he followed Bathilda up the rickety stairs, he looked back and saw Hermione retrieving her wand as she hugged herself in fright. He himself was starting to feel odd. Apart from the growing discomforting feeling the locket was making on his chest, he was starting to regret coming at all. Whatever it was Bathilda was going to show him, it would have to be quick because he no longer felt safe there.

Once they reached the landing, he followed her into what was undoubtedly her bedroom. The smell there was even fouler than it had been on the first floor. The room was so dark that Harry couldn't see her despite knowing she was only a few feet away.

"Lumos" Harry urged his wand. The light was not bright but he could finally distinguish what was what.

"Potter?" she asked, speaking for the first time.

"That's right and you have something for me…don't you?" Harry asked her. "Dumbledore left you something to give to me?"

"Mrs. Bagshot?" Harry asked uncertainly.

Bathilda's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she shook violently. Alarmed Harry approached her only to be startled by both the hissing noises and the sudden agonizing pain coming from his scar.

"Ahhhh!" Harry yelled in pain.

It was then he heard it. Voldemort's voice:

'Hold Him!'

With great force Harry willed himself to look back at Bathilda and was sickened to see a giant snake slithering through her mouth and out of her body. Instinctively he raised his wand but felt the forceful bite of the snake on his arm.

He yelled again in pain and he could faintly here Hermione's voice screaming for him downstairs.

"Harry?!"

He set off a badly aimed curse at the snake which only angered it more. She coiled her tail around his arm and slowly down around his torso. His wand fell with a clatter and rolled away in the dark.

'Hold you….yesss.'

In that moment it was hard to decipher which pain was more unbearable. The snake was tightening around him, squeezing the life out of his lungs; the Horcrux had latched on savagely on to his chest, burning him. And now his scar was aching so much he felt his head would just split open. This was the end. If it wasn't, he would surely try his hardest for it to be. The pain needed to end.

In his delirium, he had not noticed or heard Hermione run up the stairs and enter the room. His ears had not heard her scream of fright as she witnessed a motionless Harry being smothered by a powerful snake.

"Harry what are you doing?!' Hermione yelled. "Fight back!"

"GET OUT!" he yelled with difficulty. Every breath was a struggle. "HE'S COMING!"

"I already told you that I am NOT leaving you!" she screamed angrily.

'Stupefy' she said shrilly.

He felt the snake's grip loosen and eventually give way. His vision was clouded; he didn't know whether it was his lack of air or the fact that his glasses were askew that was causing his impaired sight. All he could do was hear the sound of the snake slamming against something and Hermione's shrill screams. It was that more than anything that shook him out of his determination to die. She needed him. She still had much more to live for.

"HERMIONE WHERE ARE YOU?" Harry bellowed, squinting his eyes in an attempt to clear his vision.

He could hear wincing and the thud of the snake as it slammed into the wall.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled again.

"I'm over here!" yelled. Her voice shaky.

"REDUCTO" she screamed as the snake slithered menacingly in her direction again.

The force of the spell created a hole in the floor in time for the snake to fall through.

"We need to leave now!" he yelled in her direction.

Blindly, he crawled towards her dark form on the bed. Together they peered over the edge.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked urgently.

"I'm fine; just help me find my wand." Harry panted.

With the light of her wand, Hermione quickly found Harry's wand. Teetering near the hole, Hermione quickly retrieved the wand. They didn't even have time to draw breath when the snake reared its head up and through the hole.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand before screeching out: "CONFRINGO"'

The spell flew out of Hermione's wand and met the mirrored armoire in the corner making it rebound all around. Harry's scar was now hurting more than it had before and he could barely keep himself conscious anymore. It was the feeling of Hermione's vice-like grip on his hand that kept his mind in the present. He was seeing everything out of body which could only mean Voldemort was there with them. He saw himself gliding at the same time he watched Hermione and himself sprint across, jumping over broken furniture and through broken glass, up to the window where Harry felt the relieving sensation of apparition and heard the mixture of Voldemort's and Hermione's scream before he descended into nothingness.

Hermione felt the numbing sensation of snow as she pushed herself of off the ground. Wincing, she crawled over to Harry's limp form next to her. She felt her heart sore as she checked his vitals. He was alive but very sick. Without any hesitation, she wrenched open his shirt to check for any snake bites. Sure enough, it was on his right forearm that she found the evidence of the battle they had just gone through. She rummaged through her bag where she found the essence of Dittany which she poured all over his wound. While she inspected him some more, she noticed a scorching mark around the locket on his chest. When she went to remove it, she was shocked to find it strongly latched to his skin.

'Eximo' she whispered at the locket.

With a puckered 'pop' it detached and hung heavily in its chain which Hermione removed and placed back in her bag. She watched in relief as the essence of Dittany began its work on Harry's wounds and slowly started to heal. Now that Harry was out of any immediate danger, she took out the tent and erected it. Once it was all done, she faced the new challenge of moving Harry into warmth. At first, she tried moving physically moving him herself but soon found that an amazing feat. She had no choice but to use 'Levicorpus' despite of her feelings towards its origins.

She placed Harry gently into his bunk and tucked him in. covering his forehead with a cold towel, she kept checking his temperature and caressing his face. He was deeply asleep but Hermione could tell it was far from a dreamless sleep. He was muttering and fidgeting slightly. It was then that her fear now melted into concern. What horrors was he experiencing in his dreams? Or was it his connection with Voldemort that was causing him to toss and turn? She had been livid when he had confessed that he had been having them for some time. She had pleaded numerous times for Harry to close that connection.

"Oh Harry!" she cried as she brushed her fingers on the side of his face. "You're going to be the death of me."

She kept watching him intently as he continued to moan. Thinking it would be a good idea for her nerves, she went to the kitchen for the last bit of tea bags she had managed to find at the bottom of her bag. There was enough for her and Harry. Even over the sound of the whistling kettle, she could here Harry's groans and mutters. It went on for hours until the point she seriously considered waking him. It was only because she knew how exhausted he was that she had kept herself from waking him. The essence of Dittany had by now had its full affect and Harry would be back to normal.

She wrapped a nearby blanket around her body and walked toward his bunk again. He was tossing furiously now. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, sheening over his scar.

"No…" he muttered as he clenched his fists on the blankets.

"It's okay….you're fine." Hermione soothed as she sat next to him, grabbing his hand.

"No…he's got it. He's got it!"

"Harry wake up!" Hermione urged him. "You're okay."

Harry gasped as he wrenched open his eyes. He was no longer back at Bathilda's, but rather in the comfort of the tent. Hermione was sitting next to him, towel in hand and a concerned expression etched on her face. There were small wounds on her face where flying glass had met with flesh. She looked drained.

"Hermione…we escaped." He said unnecessarily.

"Yes!" she smiled at him broadly. "How are you feeling? You've been very sick for the last few hours."

"Hours?" he repeated.

"Yes, it's nearly morning." Hermione explained.

"Oh I am so happy you're okay!" She cried. "I was so worried."

"Why were you lying there?" she added once she regained her bravado. "You were just waiting for death!"

Harry looked away. He couldn't disguise the guilt he felt that she had seen him at such a low point.

"I know, I'm a coward. I'm sorry." He grunted. "I was just…I was done. We never should've gone there Hermione. You were right, I'm so sorry. I put your life in danger again."

"No, it's not your fault." Hermione countered. "I honestly thought that Dumbledore would have left the sword in Godric's Hollow."

"What happened up there Harry?" she inquired curiously. "The snake killed her didn't it?"

"No." Harry addressed. "She was the snake."

"What do you mean?"

"Well without any gory details let's just leave it that the snake was impersonating Bathilda Bagshot." Harry explained. "The real Bagshot must've died a few days ago. Whatever we smelled had to have been her decomposing body."

Harry watched as Hermione flinched at his detached explanation.

"I should've realized that only I could understand her." He said reproachfully. "It was Parseltongue."

"I could hear him." He added. "He was telling the snake to keep me there until he arrived."

"I saw him." She announced. "Fleetingly, but…it was definitely him."

Harry wrenched away at his covers and placed his fee on the cold floor.

"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded.

"Get some rest, I'll go keep watch." Harry said.

"Harry no you're still weak!" she begged.

Ignoring her pleas, Harry stood up which he soon learned was a big mistake. His legs gave way and he fell back unceremoniously to the bed.

"See?" Hermione said proudly.

"Now you stay there, you still need some rest." She cautioned. "I'll go and keep a look out."

"No!" Harry said firmly.

Hermione looked back at him defiantly; ready to argue until she saw the look in his eyes. It was a vulnerability unlike any she had ever seen in Harry's face. She didn't know whether to be alarmed or melt from the intensity of his eyes.

"Stay with me." He whispered. "I don't want to be alone."

"You're never alone." Hermione breathed.

Harry shifted to the side of the bed nearest the tent canvas. Without any verbal communication needed, Hermione knew what Harry was suggesting. Almost instinctively, she took her place next to him. She curled up next to him, resting an arm on his chest. Harry turned over and rested his chin on the top of her forehead. Together, they drifted away to sleep, dreaming together.