I didn't want to leave you on that cliff for too long! I'm certainly impressed by the number of reviews it generated. That's the kind of thing that keeps an author going. Thanks so much for all the loyal readers out there and I really want to thank those of you who take the time to review. It means a lot to me.
I can't forget the most important part of this joy ride…my betas. Thanks Mel and Bill for your work on this chapter. It only gets better every time you touch it! Any accolades for my writing should be accepted by you as well. It wouldn't be this great if not for your help.
Only 2 chapters to post after this one! By the way, I perused the Awards page today and to my great shock and surprise saw my own name!!!! Thanks to those of you who've given The Next Great Adventure a read, and double thanks to those of you crazy enough to nominate me for an award! What a compliment!
Enjoy the update! I hope to have the entire thing posted before I leave for Christmas vacation.
VLeigh
Chapter 10 - In Dreams
Harry was acutely aware of every muscle in his body - if only because every one of them was screaming at him. Even the soft surface he was lying on seemed to shoot pain throughout the whole of his back. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there.
But he knew what happened.
He had slammed into the Quidditch pitch at breakneck speed. He'd lost total control of his Firebolt and careened head-on into the grassy surface. He didn't remember the crash exactly, everything just seemed to go black, like it was now. He fought as hard as he could to open his eyes, but it felt like a heavy blanket was weighing them down. He struggled to against himself, feeling his eyebrows rise, but his eyelids remained stubbornly lowered. In the end he could manage only a flutter. He tried to rub them with his hands, but oddly he couldn't move at all. With all the energy he could muster, he fought to raise his shoulder, his arm…a hand…a finger. Nothing. Nothing would move. His body seemed to be filled with lead and with all his strength he couldn't budge any of it.
Why can't I move?
Maybe you're dead.
I always thought there was supposed to be bright lights when you die. Everything here is dark.
Maybe you didn't go to the right place.
But….
Relax. Pain doesn't follow you into death. Clearly, you can't be dead.
But why couldn't I pull up? Where am I? Oh, gods! I'm paralyzed aren't I? Where's Hermione? How am I supposed to protect her if I can't move? This is not supposed to happen this way!
Whoa! Slow down there, Boy-Who-Must-Save-the-World-with-One-Hand-Tied Behind-His-Back. You're likely to give us a stroke! Why don't you take a page from the "Book of the Obvious," open your eyes, and ask!
He tried to form words with his mouth, fighting determinedly to open his eyes. He tried to call out for the girl who always had the answers. He needed Hermione. He struggled to call for her but couldn't seem to formulate the entire word.
"…Mione?" he moaned at a near whisper. He felt a jolt at this side and a weight lift from his arm. He fought harder to open his eyes but managed only to see light and blurred shapes as his eyes fluttered open and closed. He realized he didn't need to see what was next to him. The undeniable scent of Hermione's perfume wafted over him and he realized she had been sleeping, her hand grasping his with her head laid upon his arm.
Her voice quickly followed.
"Shhh, Harry. Don't try to talk. Everything's going to be okay." Her voice quivered noticeably. "I'm here." He could feel her running her hand through his hair and tightening the grasp on his motionless hand. Harry fought to speak.
Why can't I move? Please tell me why I can't move!
"Please, Harry." Hermione's voice broke and he felt a tear drop on his cheek. "Madam Pomfrey immobilized you to help you heal. Please, don't fight it," she begged, wiping the tear from his face.
Having answered the two questions that were most important to him, Harry relaxed considerably in her presence. Even though he'd only been semi-conscious for a few minutes, it seemed much longer. He was exhausted. She was next to him and that was all he needed to know. He stopped fighting to open his eyes and fell back asleep - Hermione at his side.
He woke again, feeling only an hour or two had passed, yet everything was different. While he still felt a dull and throbbing pain coursing through every molecule of his body, he was able to move. He could open his eyes and see the hospital wing as clearly as could be expected without aid of his glasses. Gasping at the stinging in his arms, he reached to the bedside table to get his glasses. He gingerly put them on his face and turned to where Hermione had been camped out at his beside only a short while before.
She wasn't there.
"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry muttered, looking at the familiar knitted sweater peeking out from behind the latest copy of "Witch Weekly." The magazine was snapped shut and Molly Weasley's beaming face appeared instantly.
"Oh, Harry dear! You're awake!" she said, nearly giddy. "Madam Pomfrey!" she called across the hospital wing. "He's finally come out of it!" she said, absentmindedly straightening his sheets. Although Harry was keen to know what he'd come out of, he was more interested to know where Hermione had gone.
"What happened to Hermione? Where did she go?" Harry asked slowly formulating the words through a sore throat.
"Harry, she's in her lessons of course," Mrs. Weasley said smiling.
"But she was just here," Harry said, rubbing his throat.
"Oh, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said quietly. "You haven't been conscious for five days. I made her go to her lessons. She was falling terribly behind. We thought it best if we stayed here with you," she added concernedly.
Harry suddenly realized there were more people in the hospital wing aside from Mrs. Weasley. On his other side - interestingly enough the same side Sirius had occupied after Harry's ordeal in the graveyard - sat Remus Lupin. Mad-Eye Moody stood stoically, peering out of the window, in typical paranoid fashion, scowling at unsuspecting students through the window. Oddly enough, there were no other patients in the hospital wing at all.
"Hi, Harry," Lupin said, sitting forward to meet his eyes with a warm smile. "How are you feeling?"
"How do you think he's feeling Lupin," Moody growled. "They're still filling in the Harry Potter sized hole in the pitch and you want to know how he's feeling?" Lupin rolled his eyes and returned his stare to Harry, awaiting an answer.
"Everything hurts," Harry whispered.
"Well, I should think so!" Madam Pomfrey glided over with a bottle of blue potion. "I never had so much business in this infirmary until you came to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," she said pouring the foaming substance into a glass. Seeming to think better of her comment, she looked up at Lupin and added, "Well…almost as much business anyway." Lupin tried to hide his smile, but it was obvious Harry's trips to the hospital wing didn't quite equal the number the Maruaders must have taken.
Feeling this was the dimmest question he'd ever asked; he looked up at Madam Pomfrey, took the potion from her hand and inquired as to his own condition. "Am I alright?"
"Well, I must say you certainly tested every trick I have in my bag Mr. Potter; twelve broken bones, two cracked ribs and a punctured lung. It's a wonder you made it from the pitch to this hospital wing while I could still save you! I had to immobilize you for 4 solid days!" she said in a huff, turning around to take the potion back to her office, mumbling something about daredevil Quidditch players the whole way back.
"I think we should let Dumbledore know he's awake," Lupin said across the bed to Mrs. Weasley. As she rose from her chair to deliver the message, the hospital wing doors opened gracefully.
"No need Remus," Dumbledore said softly. "I came as soon as I heard." He stopped at the end of Harry's bed and smiled warmly. "I should say Harry, one more trip to this place and Madam Pomfrey is going to permanently engrave your name upon the frame of this bed."
"I heard that!" Madam Pomfrey bellowed from her office. Dumbledore ducked his head and added quietly, "at least you keep her on her toes!" he whispered.
"I heard that too!" she barked, now standing at her office door tapping her foot. Voldemort may have feared Dumbledore, but Harry never got the impression that Madam Pomfrey felt the slightest intimidation. Rather, she spent a good deal of her time dictating to the headmaster what he could and could not do while in the presence of her patients.
Dumbledore always seemed to have the answers to any perplexing question so Harry thought to give him a try. "What happened out there?" Harry asked.
"Well, quite honestly, we were hoping you could tell us that," Dumbledore replied. "How did you lose control of your broomstick?"
"I don't know. One minute I was flying as usual, practicing the same dive I'd done loads of times before, the next thing I knew I couldn't move the broom at all. It was like it was stuck. I couldn't pull it up, I couldn't do anything," Harry explained. "It was like someone hexed it," he added. Lupin and Moody shot each other quick glances and returned their attention to Harry.
"Was it as unresponsive as the time Professor Quirrell jinxed your broom?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes," Harry added flatly. "But I don't understand. Voldemort can't hex my broom on Hogwarts grounds, there's no way he could get in," Harry continued.
"No. But his agents surely can," Mad-Eye grumbled from across the room, still peering out of the window.
"Death Eaters?" Harry said disbelievingly.
"Well, I think it's clear that one of Voldemort's supporters cursed your Firebolt. The more important question is who did so?" Dumbledore added thoughtfully.
"Harry, did you see anyone else at the pitch that day?" Mrs. Weasley interjected.
"Just the Gryffindor team, and there were maybe a dozen people in the stands," Harry replied.
"Who?" Mad-Eye demanded, taking his glance off the window and rolling his magical eye directly toward Harry.
"I...I don't know. Ron said there were some scouts for the Chudley Cannons and some others, but I really didn't pay much attention," Harry answered.
That apparently wasn't the answer Mad-Eye Moody wanted to hear.
"Blast!" he said, slamming his hand down on the window ledge causing a plant to crash to the floor. He turned toward the door and stormed out, slamming it behind him.
Not giving the slightest start over Moody's outburst, Dumbledore continued, "I think you need to get your rest, and I'm quite sure we are not the people you are most interested in seeing." He finished, nodding toward the door at the other end of the wing.
"Harry!" Hermione gasped, dropping her books and running past the empty beds. Dumbledore, Lupin, and Mrs. Weasley made a quiet exit together, whispering animatedly, as Hermione charged toward Harry.
"Ouch!" he squeaked, holding his side as Hermione flopped onto the bed and threw her arms around him.
She released him nearly as quickly as she'd embraced him, "Oh! I'm so sorry Harry!"
"It's okay." He chuckled. Madam Pomfrey may have been a wonderful magical healer, but he was wholly convinced this was the best medicine he could get. He pulled her back into a cautious embrace and continued. "Thank you, Hermione," he said, kissing her on the cheek.
She pulled away and looked at him completely befuddled. "Thank you for what?" she said.
"For being here," Harry said softly. "The only thing I remember between being on the pitch and right now is the sound of your voice telling me everything was okay." Hermione looked away, tears welling in her eyes. For a moment, Harry felt some masculine satisfaction that his words had brought her to tears until he realized it may not have been him at all.
"Hermione, what's the matter?"
"It was the same dream," she said quietly. "Only this time, I knew it was real." Her voice shook a bit and she looked toward Harry. "I never actually saw you hit the ground in the dream until then…and…" tears began rolling down her cheeks.
"…and what?" Harry prompted.
"And just like you asked me earlier, I felt really happy about it. I saw you hit the ground and I thought…I thought you were…" she was crying freely now. "I was thrilled, I thought you…" Harry knew the end of the sentence and didn't see the need to make her say it. He quickly sat up and pulled her into the strongest embrace he could stand.
"It's okay Hermione. I'm not dead. It's not going to be that easy for him," he said thoughtfully, staring out of the same window across the room that Mad-Eye had been so interested in.
Harry had a steady stream of guests over the course of the next week. Hermione only left his side when ordered to by a professor or Madam Pomfrey. It was never lost on Harry that there was always some member of the Order lurking around. Tonks tried to be clandestine, skulking around outside the hospital wing doors, but the suit of armor that crashed to the floor was as good an indication as any that she was there. The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team came by regularly to check on their captain. Ron beat Harry so badly in wizard chess he actually used his condition to his advantage to end the game early. In total, he spent two weeks in the hospital wing recovering from his accident. While he didn't feel one hundred percent when he left, he was certainly ready to get back to normal life as a student.
It didn't take long.
Ron and Hermione had conveniently forgotten to mention that the students at Hogwarts thought Harry's accident was purely a result of his own arrogance and daring. While they and the members of the Order knew the truth, he knew he would sound just as mad as everyone thought he was last year if he went proclaimed Voldemort or one of his cronies had jinxed the broom. As it was, he decided to merely ignore the insults and try to focus on what was important. Even with Hermione's constant insistence to "ignore them," that task proved a bit more difficult than he first imagined.
Harry had acquired several new nicknames among the Hogwarts students. Among his least favorites were, "Pitch-Hole Potter" and "Daredevil Dumb Ass." As he returned to his lessons he fought the same gaping stares that had followed him since his declaration that Voldemort had returned. While he had Hermione and Ron on his side, some insults were harder to ignore than others. Harry returned to his coursework just in time to join the review sessions for their upcoming exams.
"Well, well, well. It seems our celebrity has finally extracted himself from the hospital wing," a cold voice sneered from the back of the dungeon. The door slammed shut as Snape's lesson was about to begin. "I shudder to think what two weeks lost instruction will do to your performance on this exam Potter. Perhaps one of my more talented students might help you catch up," he said coolly as he shifted his eyes over to Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy merely grinned and pulled out the all too familiar button he had sported during the Triwizard Tournament. He had gone to the trouble to change its message. Rather than flashing "Potter Stinks" to the whole of the dungeon, it now fittingly managed to blink, "Potter Splats."
***
As much as Harry hated to admit it, Snape was right. Two weeks in the hospital wing had done near irreparable damage to his study schedule. Not only had Harry lost two weeks of instruction, his stamina for late night studying had been impacted as well. His homework had piled up and he had only five days left before the start of exams. He had no idea how he would be able to pass any of his courses at this late date, but he did know one thing - Malfoy was not going to be a part of it.
"So Potter! I'll be more than happy to teach you a little remedial potions myself. I'll bet Crabbe and Goyle here have a better grasp of the uses of raspweed than you do!" Malfoy sniggered as he trotted up to Harry leaving the dungeon.
Harry opened his mouth with every intention of putting Malfoy in his place, but never got the chance.
"Crabbe and Goyle would be lucky if they could spell raspweed, Malfoy! Harry most certainly doesn't need you to get up to speed on potions. I'll be handling that myself," Hermione declared.
"Oh that's rich; the mudblood teaching the celebrity!" Malfoy sneered. "Of course I forgot you both are supposed to be some kind of couple now aren't you?" Malfoy quipped.
"You'd think even Potter would have better taste than a half-breed chipmunk like Granger," Pansy Parkinson added, gliding up to Malfoy's side.
Harry could feel the heat coming off of Hermione's body. She was ready to explode and clearly summoning every bit of energy she had to keep from decapitating Parkinson right there in the corridor. Harry had to step in, but knew he didn't have the strength for a fight, or the time to devote to the detention Snape would undoubtedly assign him. So he tried another approach.
He sidled up to Malfoy and Parkinson, standing only inches from them both and spoke at a near whisper. "You know Pansy," he reached out and twisted a bit of her hair through his fingers. "At one point I thought of asking you out on a date," she shot a puzzled glance at Draco. "But I wasn't entirely sure I knew enough Parseltongue to maintain a conversation with you for more than five minutes." He let her hair go and turned to Draco. "Why don't you take your pet back down to the dungeon where you both belong."
He turned on one foot, extending his arm around Hermione's shoulder and led her down the corridor toward the Great Hall, his robes billowing behind him as they went.
"I'm glad you took care of that mate," Ron said settling down to the Gryffindor table. "I was about to beat him into the middle of next week," he finished, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice.
"I'm flattered by your determined manhood, Ron," Hermione said, scooping mashed potatoes onto her plate. "But I think Harry's method had a bit more style." She broke into a grin which quickly progressed to a laugh, "I think Pansy Parkinson is still trying to figure out what you said to her." In her chuckling she missed the furrowed brow plastered along Ron's face.
"So, will you help me?" Harry asked with a sly grin.
"Well, if you insist. I'll be happy to try and figure out…" She was quickly interrupted by Ron
"Oh, please!" Ron interrupted. "Harry, Don't let her fool you, she has already set up your entire study schedule in that annoying little homework book of yours." Ron scoffed through a half chewed pork chop. Hermione may've rolled her eyes at Ron but she quickly followed with a bright smile toward Harry.
After dinner the trio settled down to a large table in the common room and Hermione pulled out the very book Ron had mentioned earlier. Harry had spent so much time worrying about how he would catch up in his studies, he failed to think of the amount of time he would be spending with Hermione to make it through exams. Suddenly, the prospect of late night cram sessions took on a new perspective.
They stayed at the table until nearly midnight flipping through books, writing feet of parchment, and asking the occasional question of each other. Harry and Hermione were stationed right next to each other. He seemed to live for the times she'd shift on the bench and her leg would brush against his. On several occasions, she seemed to lean into him as she pondered her Arithmancy homework, only to pop up again and furiously scratch down the answer.
Hours passed and he'd had nearly enough. His eyes were burning and he was fighting to stay awake. He laid his head down on the table with a yawn. A moment later, he felt Hermione's delicate hand rubbing his head, playing with his hair between her fingers. Her gentle touch traveled down his neck where she began to work out a knot he had developed at the top of his right shoulder. If his eyes hadn't been closed, they would be rolling back in his head from pleasure.
Ron's voice shattered his moment.
"I'm with you mate, I'm done," he said, slapping his book shut and getting up from the table. Harry's head felt like it was anchored to the table and he had no intention of giving Hermione a reason to stop. Without raising his head from the table he bid Ron good night and heard his feet grow quieter as he ascended the spiral stairs to their bedroom.
"Harry?" Hermione's voice echoed quietly in his ear.
"Yeah?" he replied, still unwilling to pick up his head.
"You should probably turn in for the night. You need to pay attention to your health as well as your studies," she added concernedly. She stopped rubbing the knot in his neck. Figuring he'd milked that for all it was worth he finally pulled his head from the table and raised his gaze to hers.
"Yeah, I might do that. I don't know how much good I'm doing myself. I've read this same paragraph at least seven times and still can't tell you what it says," Harry said flipping the pages of his charms text. Hermione, continuing to keep her eyes fixed on him, said nothing. Harry returned her gaze and suddenly fell speechless. She was beautiful. She always had been, and he'd noticed it before. But something was different now, even more different than it had been. When he looked at her something hurt inside and he didn't know what it was. He had been in love with her for months, but ever since he heard her voice echo in his subconscious, in the hospital wing, that love had grown. He couldn't put it into words and he doubted he could even make her understand. All he knew was that he loved her more now than he had ever had.
He was overcome. He closed the mere twelve inches separating them, wrapped his left arm around her waist while he pulled her face toward his with his right hand. Their lips met in a quiet, subtle, seemingly-endless kiss. Harry's scar tingled a bit, but no more noticeably than the rest of his body.
"What was that for?" Hermione asked quietly after they separated.
"I love you," Harry said simply. "More than ever…more than anything." He couldn't maintain the piercing gaze of her eyes and looked away. She pulled his face back to hers and with a soft kiss replied, "I love you too…and you need to go to bed." Harry let out a quiet laugh and rose from the bench. Obediently, he climbed the stairs to his room and fell asleep before he could even change his clothes.
***
The following few days were composed of a blur of endless study sessions and coursework. Harry's endurance and stamina for studying grew each day. After a few had passed, he was ready to breach, a possibly hostile, subject with Hermione.
"Hermione?" he began quietly, as they studied together in the library. She looked up quizzically and he decided to continue before she could speak. "I was thinking. It might be a good idea for us to continue working on Occlumency. I'm still not sure what really happened on the pitch. If your dreams had anything to do with it, but it might not hurt to continue it."
He waited for her argument.
It didn't come.
"What about tonight?" she asked him, looking to see that no one was listening. Still shocked by the lack of dispute Harry nodded and returned to his studies.
***
They pulled off the invisibility cloak and closed the door behind them. Harry's curiosity was getting the better of him, but he had yet to ask why Hermione was so willing to resume her study of Occlumency. He found out pretty quickly that he didn't need to ask the question. For the first 40 minutes of their session, Harry only saw one thing in Hermione's head. It was a dark room. Dust covered the floor and a rather well built individual was pacing in the shadows in front of her. He couldn't hear what he was saying and couldn't understand why he wouldn't show his face either.
The look on his face must've been all the asking that Hermione needed.
"It's a dream I keep having," she added quietly. "It's the same dream over and over, but it doesn't seem to have anything to do with you. I can't figure it out. I'm not even scared in the dream. I feel like the person walking in the shadows is you. I feel connected to you." Harry sat quietly, thinking about what she'd said. Why would he be pacing just out of her sight? Was he looking for someone? Maybe he was waiting for Voldemort? He couldn't be using her as bait?
"Harry? What is it?" He returned his eyes to hers.
"Oh, sorry. Nothing. I was just thinking about your dream. It's odd isn't it?" Harry said, finally deciding he wasn't getting to the bottom of it anytime soon.
"No more odd than the feeling I just had that you were asking me to marry you while we were doing this." Hermione chuckled uncomfortably.
Harry, on the other hand, almost fell out of his chair. Admittedly, his mind had wandered while he was breaking into Hermione's thoughts. Interestingly enough, that's where it had gone. However, they were only sixteen and had an entire year left at Hogwarts before heading out on their own. While he felt nothing in the world was as right as asking Hermione to marry him, he certainly didn't want to do that now. It was not the right time and he didn't want to scare her by being too forward. He had to think fast.
"Marry you?" he added with his own uncomfortable laugh. "That would be odd wouldn't it?" As soon as he finished, he'd wished he hadn't said it at all.
Oh, way to go Casanova! That will sweep her off her feet!
Surely, she can't want the same thing! We're only sixteen for the love of Merlin!
Blimey! If only words could define how thick you are Harry!
Although she tried to hide it, Hermione's face fell. Harry felt his heart break just as it had when he'd proclaimed, to Mrs. Weasley, that he didn't, and couldn't love Hermione. He searched for something to say, anything to fix what he had just said. He didn't get the chance. Hermione stood up and began collecting her things. As he watched her, feeling utterly wretched, one nagging thought remained.
She must be getting better at this. How else would she know what I was thinking about?
And you blew it off. Or should I say, you just blew it?
Is there any way to shut you UP?
Seek help, Harry.
***
They walked together, toward Gryffindor tower, the same way they always had; clutching each other under the invisibility cloak. The sweet smell of Hermione's hair fixed under his chin seemed to conscript him into a constant stream of short kisses to the top of her head. It hadn't passed unnoticed that she had said very little since their final conversation. Before she left his sight, he wanted assurance that his callous reaction to her earlier observation had not hurt her. As they continued down the stairs together, he contemplated what to say. Before he had the opportunity to broach the subject, they were abruptly stopped by the sound of a familiar voice.
"I just find it completely hysterical how dim the whole lot is!" It was the unmistakable sneer of Draco Malfoy's voice. "Honestly, Weasley's father works for the bloody Ministry and he still doesn't know!" Raucous laughter broke out as Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson came into view. As they passed, they heard Malfoy's last comment before they swept down the stairs. "I just hope I'm there to see Potter's face when he finds out!"