The Subtle Dower by SheWhoHathAPen

Rating: G
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 04/07/2004
Last Updated: 04/07/2004
Status: Completed

She dreamed of him often. She always had. Almost from the first day that she met him on the
train.




1. The Subtle Dower
-------------------

She dreamed of him often.

She always had. Almost from the first day that she met him on the train. Back then, she did not
really understand. She had only been eleven, after all. It seemed silly to her to have dreams about
a skinny, little boy with messy hair and too-big clothes. Not to mention that it was the sort of
embarrassing thing of which people would never let go if they found out. It did not take long for
the dreams to make their way into her waking thoughts.

She was baffled then. She had not been very impressed with him when she met him. To tell the
truth he was not very impressive. He was quiet, almost shy, small, and none too wonderful at his
schoolwork. Yet the dreams continued, and she could not make sense of it.

Even at eleven, Hermione Granger was rational. So, she did all she could do. She watched him,
and when she watched him, she realized the trouble into which he was capable of getting himself.
That would not do at all. Hermione, as was her way, wasted no time informing him of all the ways
his endeavors could go wrong. He did not listen, of course, no one ever did. It had never stopped
her. She persisted. "The Comment" was made and the truth of the lonely little girl was
revealed. Then, he saved her, in more ways than one.

The dreams did not stop.

She thought, at first, that being his friend would make it easier, that she would have the pull
to keep him from harm. Oddly, the stronger pull seemed to be from his end, and where she once would
have put her foot down, refused to go along, she was right there with him. She changed and she told
herself she had to because he would not stop, and so, it was the only way to keep him safe. For
some reason, keeping him safe was the most important thing in the world to her.

She dreamed of him in peril.

Her dark nightmares expressed the fears she held within her heart that there would be dangers
that she was not smart enough or good enough to prevent. He was a savior of a world before he could
walk and they all expected him to save it again, even if he had no idea how he did the first time.
He needed her help, desperately, but what if she was not enough?

Some of the dreams changed as the years passed.

It happened in increasing frequency the older she got. Brilliant green eyes haunted her. Phantom
touches tickled her skin and filled her with warmth. She remembered their adventures, and instead
of the fear and anxiety that normally accompanied those thoughts her subconscious mind only seemed
to acknowledge the moments when she was pressed close to him, his arms about her and hers clinging
to him. She could hear his voice, the voice that had cracked for a while and eventually settled
into a soothing, deep thing that seemed strange coming from his mouth. He was not screaming for
help as in many dreams past, but merely saying her name. In her sleep, Hermione would flush and she
would whisper his name in turn.

Lavender and Parvati would giggle in her direction and cast her suggestive glances occasionally.
They never shared this information, though, holding to some silent, secret pact regarding roommates
and their nighttime activities. Hermione always felt a great debt of gratitude to the girls for
that, because she had no idea how she would ever explain it and, then, there was still the fact
that she knew she could never live it down if anyone were to find out.

She could never have told Harry that she loved him, though she knew that she did. She had been
certain that she would die of embarrassment because she also knew he would never feel the same way.
He loved her no doubt, but as a friend, as a sister. So, she kept her dreams to herself and she
kept on helping him, and cherishing every smile he sent her way, and every time she got to touch
him, and every time he held her. He consumed her life and she would not have had it any other way.
He needed to save the world and she needed to save him. That was the way it was meant to be.

The dreams ceased in the weeks after he killed Voldemort.

Instead, the reality consumed her. She spent long weeks at his bedside, tending to him as the
world righted itself, recovering from war. She watched with sad, worried eyes as he blamed himself
for all the death and carnage that had come. She whispered comforting words to him as he slept and
in those moments that he would allow it when he was awake. Something inside him changed.
Eventually, he healed. He was never the same again. In many ways, she lost him after that. He was
not the boy she knew. Sometimes, when no one was around to pester her about it, she would weep for
the skinny, little boy in too-big clothes that she met on that train.

She has not dreamed of that boy in many years.

This dream scares her. In her mind’s eye, she can see him as clearly as if he were standing in
front of her. He is empty and broken, standing in some lost corner of the earth where no one will
ever find him again. He has run away from everything that defined his life for so long. Including
her. Worst of all, he is alone. So terribly alone, and everything in her screams out to go to him,
to help him, but she knows that she cannot reach him. For the first time in a very long time, she
whispers his name in her sleep.

Eventually, Hermione’s eyes flutter open and she finds herself looking into her husband’s face.
He smiles at her and she closes her eyes again for a moment, shaking off ghosts of a long dead
past. It seems like a lifetime ago, when everything, everyone, was different. He looks at her with
concern then, until she ruffles his hair playfully to assure him that she is fine.

“I was just dreaming,” she tells him as she scoots closer and he wraps a protective arm about
her waist.

“Was it about me?” he asks as he kisses her temple softly.

Hermione considers telling him the truth. She always told herself that eventually she would one
day share this with him, but somehow she never got around to it after the dreams dropped off and it
no longer seemed important. Ultimately, she can admit, it is something she wants to keep to
herself. She weighs her options for a moment before deciding, as she always does, that this is not
quite the right time. It is just a fib after all.

She laughs and rebuffs him, “Honestly, we need to get that ego checked.” He takes on an air of
mock incredulity as she continues, “Not *everything* is about you, Harry Potter.” And with
that, she snuggles into his arms, and goes back to sleep.

It is likely that she will always dream of him.

Just as it is likely that she will never tell him that it is so. Hermione has no delusions. She
may have been wrong about other things, but she still knows that she would never hear the end of
it.

Author’s Notes

This concept popped into my head quite some time ago, soon after I entered the fandom, in fact,
and I only just recently got it down on paper/file. The fluid tense towards the end is not my forté
and not even something I generally enjoy, so forgive me, regular purveyors of such things, if
I've butchered it. It just seemed like the only way to maintain the vaguely abstract quality I
was going for and to seperate the dreams she once had from the world she now lives in.

The title is from an Emily Dickenson poem:

Dreams are the subtle Dower
That make us rich an Hour—
Then fling us poor
Out of the purple Door
Into the Precinct raw
Possessed before—

**ETA:** Thanks very much to **fenriswolf** for suggesting a line change. I think it flows
better as a whole now. A few words can be like a missing link :)

-- **Rawles <3**



