Harry smiled to himself. He felt so warm and safe. Somewhere in the back of his mind lay a darkness he did not understand. He forced himself to ignore it and concentrate on his joy. He was sitting and talking with his parents. He looked up at his house. He saw his children running around, playing with Sirius in his animigus form. It was Harry's day off of work. He and his wife alternated days. He worked Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She worked Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday. There was always someone to watch the kids on Mondays. There were so many people around. Sirius and Remus, his parents, and all of the Weasleys all took turns caring for his children. They also took care of the children one Saturday a month so that he and Hermione could go on a date.
Harry was thirty-nine years old and was the happiest man alive. He had wonderful family and friends, and the most amazing woman that he had ever met as his wife. Hermione was the light of his life. She brought new joy to him each and every day. She was the same woman he remembered from school, with her bushy hair and brown eyes. She was as brilliant as ever. Both he and she worked as aurors for the ministry. Between work and the children, they both were extremely busy, but they always found time for each other. Yet, something was wrong, though Harry did not know what. Everyone tried to get him to ignore it and he tried. However, there were moments that made him wonder.
When he though about it, his life was very fuzzy. He remembered school, but the last few years of it were hazy. His life from then to about ten years ago was completely blank. He did not remember his wedding. He also had the feeling that some people, specifically his parents and Sirius, should not be there. He got some of the same feeling around Arthur and Molly as well. Plus, there was that darkness, somewhere in the back of his head. Some pain that he was trying to avoid. He had gone to doctors about it, and they had said that he was repressing memories. They said that he should ignore them, as they were probably not important. He found that very strange. Why would a doctor say that memories were not important? It did not make any sense.
Harry jolted as he felt it again, the strange feeling that he got sometimes. The feeling that someone was watching him, someone filled with love. It was a presence, a familiar presence. He needed to find out what it was. He reached out, trying to sense it as he always did. This time, he caught something. Whoever it was in incredible mental pain. He reached out again, trying to comfort them. As he did so, he gasped. He knew that presence. He had only felt it once before, but where? He racked his brain, trying desperately to remember. Suddenly he realized that it was Hermione. That did not make any sense. His Hermione did not feel like that. Still, it was her; that he knew. Then, just like that, the feeling was gone, and he was back sitting in his front yard. His parents looked at him inquisitively, but he pushed them off and went inside.
When Hermione came home, he looked at his wife. Something was wrong, but he could not put his finger on it. Suddenly, he sat up and gasped. He realized that she had not aged since their seventh year. She still looked as she had then. As he realized this, all the pieces began to fall into place. His parents were dead, as was Sirius. Somehow, none of his friends had married but him and Hermione. That was because he did not know who they were in love with. Everything was too perfect. No one but him really had a detailed life, and his was somewhat hazy. He realized that nothing that he saw around him was real. It was all a fantasy that his mind had come up with. As he came to this realization, everything around him started to fade into black. He shivered as everything suddenly turned cold. His memories came flooding back to him and he screamed in anguish as he remembered the hell that he had been through and what he had done.