A little nugget for you all-this has a flashback to The Power He Knows Not. I have no clue where it came from honestly, I never set out to write it that way-Hermione just took me there. I know there are a few reading Triumvirate that haven't read Power - you'll likely be confused by it if you fall in that category. As a matter of giving credit-there is one reference in there to "black flowers" I read that use of imagery in one of Lori's *bows* stories and simply cannot think of another way to describe it! So-that particular use of imagery is entirely borrowed.
ALSO! Big props to Victor (i.e. Muddgutts!) he has finished the artwork he started for this story and I'm so thrilled! Its just as awesome as he is and you simply must check it out if you have the opportunity…here's the link…
http://www.boomspeed.com/muddgutts/TR.gif
This update might also satisfy the fluff-lover in you. There is a bit more than my usual in this post, but it works in my story so you get the rewards.
The reference to the Slytherin empath comes from a wonderfully talented writer on the snitch named Jadealinda. If you haven't read her Hp parallel "Born of Evil the Story of Aurielle Lestrange" you are truly missing out. She's a fantastically gifted writer and I loved incorporating a snippet of Aurielle into ToR! Its not really a "shipped" Fic at all, mostly plot driven-not romance-however, I'm one of the first mates upon the Harry/Aurielle ship she's devised on her own. Here is the link to her story:
http://www.thesnitch.net/forums/index.php?showtopic=3214
I've adopted CheeringCharm's personal challenge of posting at least every Sunday…I hope to keep up!
VLeigh
Chapter 11 - Couch Time
"I gather you heard the news," Tonks said quietly as she entered the room Remus had claimed as his own. After the term started, Molly Weasley had at least one wish granted. Harry's ability to open Grimmauld Place sealed the inheritance charm Sirius apparently cast upon it. She still wasn't quite sure why Harry chose to bequeath it to the Order of the Phoenix, but he had. He'd done it over her objections as well, not that such an act was anything new. She tried to impress upon him that he would need a home after Hogwarts and this house, while certainly not the height of luxury, was thoroughly adequate for a young couple just starting on their own. Harry, to her displeasure, would hear none of it and with the aid of Albus Dumbledore had commissioned the house as the new permanent headquarters for the Order. Many of the members, especially those with little other means, had chosen to reside there full-time.
Not surprising to anyone, Remus Lupin was the first permanent resident of Grimmauld Place. Equally unsurprising was his choice of bedroom. He had chosen the same room his best friend Sirius Black had made his own. He changed little of the décor, in part as a tribute to the former Marauder, and in part because their tastes were rather similar.
Tonks used the Headquarters quite frequently. While she maintained her teaching post at Hogwarts she had a room there. However, business from the Order often required her to put in long nights at Grimmauld Place and she was much more inclined to stay there on those nights rather than apparating to Hogsmeade and walking the long path to the castle. Aside from that, completely feasible and logical excuse, there was a greater one. Maintaining a room at Grimmauld Place made it much easier to stay close to Remus Lupin.
He looked up from his writing desk and caught her eye. "Are we sure the information is good."
She stretched out on the bed behind the writing desk and replied, "It's highly reliable. It's from our source in the Ministry." Remus stopped writing and turned in his chair to face her.
"From Reilly?" Remus looked at her questioningly.
"The very same." She rolled up onto her side and propped her head on her hand. "If anyone is able to get the inside information on Damien Keres, Reilly is the one. Our information says he found out Harry is still alive approximately two weeks ago."
"Did Reilly have any additional insight on his current whereabouts?" Remus asked.
"No."
He returned to his parchment and Tonks surveyed the man before her. She let out a sigh, an all too audible one, and thought she saw his eyes flick back toward her. Remus Lupin might have had some "issues" according to the wizarding world, but none of that made any difference to Tonks.
He's probably more agreeable during his time of the month than I am.
"Well, we are as prepared as we can be. It had to happen sooner or later. Someone like Damien is not going to be in the dark for long." Remus' voice drew her from her thoughts and back to the harsh reality before her.
"No, I suppose not. I just hope we can get everything in order in time."
***
How many times have I walked these stairs?
Hermione thought back to the inordinate number of times she'd climbed the stairs to the Hogwarts hospital wing. It was hard to escape the fact that she, Harry, and Ron had not managed a single academic year without at least one trip to Madam Pomfrey. On some occasions they'd not managed a single term without a visit. She continued to trudge forward, her feet moving her along while her mind wandered aimlessly. One fact never escaped her attention, in all the times she'd visited the hospital wing it was never for instruction.
Her feet slowed as she neared the entrance to the infirmary. She'd never really studied the great oak doors before. As a matter of practice, she usually broke into a sprint by the time she reached the top stair, flinging the doors open as she flew to the side of whichever best friend, usually Harry, was injured this time.
She was far less obliged to burst into the room today. She stood at the top of the stairs, absently wringing her hands and studying the features of the antiqued entrance. The doors were easily ten feet tall. She'd never noticed the detail to the pewter handles. They stood in a graceful arch that finished in a simple rolled finial. The actual oak doors depicted a scene she recognized almost immediately as one from Greek Mythology. The Morai were listing gracefully toward the top of the left door, looking downward on the mortal Asklepios as they raised him from Hades and apotheosized him into the god of medicine. The right-handed door showed Asklepios later in his existence.
And mum said I never paid attention to her bedtimes stories as a little girl.
She stood, gazing at the figure carved into the right door. She'd never taken the time to look at the carved artwork, and thus never noticed the eerie similarities between Asklepios and the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Much like many gods of Greek Mythology, Asklepios was a rather imposing figure with a long flowing beard. In his right hand he held a staff, encircled by a serpent.
A serpent. That's interesting.
As she continued to study the scene before her, it broke open in the middle as the doors swung open to reveal the kind smile of Madam Pomfrey.
"Good evening, Ms. Granger."
"Oh, good evening, Madam Pomfrey…I was just…er,"
"I know you're a bit worried about your lesson. I promise I won't bite," she replied warmly.
I don't think worried quite captures my mood.
It didn't capture it either. Hermione wasn't just worried she was terrified. She wasn't terrified of Madam Pomfrey, or what she would have her do during the evening. She was altogether terrified of herself and of the unknown. She was an empath.
What does that mean?
She felt totally out-of-control. Her emotions had been on a roller coaster for so long, she barely noticed it now. But, this was different. She didn't feel as though she had a logical grasp on the situation. Harry and Ron might tease her incessantly, but she needed knowledge to stay in control. Her control didn't come from physical ability. It didn't come from the ability to think quickly, or strategically. It didn't come from the ability to make decisions in the blink of an eye. She didn't have the gut instinct that had saved Harry so many times over the last seven years. She was certain if the roles had been reversed she never would've made it past Quirrell, or the basilisk. She didn't have the strength to fend off a single dementor - Harry had saved her then- the sheer stress of the Tri-wizard Tournament would've done her in there, and she willingly looked to Harry for some feasible escape plan when faced with the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. Harry's quick thinking had saved her last year as well.
I gave up. I wanted Harry to kill me. I didn't care about finding a way to save myself. I just wanted the pain to stop. I never would've thought to do what he did. I never could've defeated Voldemort.
Her strengths were not any of Harry's. Her strength lay in her ability to study and analyze a situation beforehand. She could solve logical problems, understand consequences (something she knew Ron and Harry never thought about) and be objective about a situation long after everyone else had succumbed to an emotional response.
That's it! That's why I'm so confused!
"Madam Pomfrey," she asked quietly as she followed her into the healer's office.
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you a question?"
"I believe that's the whole reason Professor Dumbledore has asked me to teach you." She smiled warmly.
"Are you sure there's not been a mistake? I…I mean, Professor Dumbledore is a powerful wizard I understand, but…me…as an empath? It doesn't make sense."
She waited for Madam Pomfrey to reply, but she merely sat in her wingback chair, smiling at Hermione. The silence that hung in the air compelled Hermione to talk. "I'm too logical for this. Empaths are supposed to be focused on emotion and all that. I'm not that way. I've never cried over a sappy romance novel, I've never gotten weepy over a single Muggle movie. I basically detest the gaggle of immature girls that go around screaming their delight to each other - although it was quite fun when Ginny did that after she saw the ring Harry gave me." She looked up at Madam Pomfrey who sported a toothy grin now, and realized she'd strayed from the subject.
"Er-I just…I am not someone who spends any time focusing on her own emotions. I'm far too logical for any of that." Madam Pomfrey remained silent. Hermione was beginning to grow a bit agitated with her "teacher's" lack of response. "During fifth year for example, Harry was absolutely beside himself over what he'd seen in his dreams regarding Sirius. I was completely calm and logical in that situation. I looked at the situation objectively and tried to reel him in! An empath shouldn't be able to do that!"
Silence.
"It's not that I don't have emotions mind you, I do. I have the full range of them I assure you. You can ask Ron about my temper, he's probably seen it best. I have been happy, I have been sad, I've been….scared; scared to death as a matter of fact. I thought I'd never have been so scared as when I saw Viktor Krum in the corridor last year. I wasn't scared until I saw his face, the look on it." Hermione looked blankly at her hands. They'd stopped their nervous fidgeting as she thought back to the events of last year. Her face hardened and her jaw worked slightly. "I knew then something was terribly wrong. His eyes, his mouth, the way he stood… anger and betrayal resonated from his body as he stood before me, shaking with emotion. I saw it all in his face and I just stopped drawing breath…"
**
What page was that on? Was it page 560 or 561? Ugh! If I don't find this answer before I get to this exam, I just know Professor Vector will ask about it!
Hermione frantically flipped the pages of her Arithmancy text as she increased her gait through the corridor. Her exam was scheduled to begin in just five minutes and she wouldn't feel completely comfortable sitting for it if this question lingered in her mind a second longer. Over the years she'd developed the uncanny ability to read and walk at the same time. She weaved through students passing here and there, not pausing to look up from her textbook. As she grew nearer to her destination the students in the hallway thinned out.
Ah! There it is.
She slapped the book shut and tucked it under her arm as she turned down a darker corridor that, earlier this year, she'd found to be a short cut. She continued mulling over information she assured herself would be on the exam as she swept through the hallway. As she passed a dark alcove she nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Oh! My heavens," she gasped and tried to catch her breath. Her heart was hammering. "Viktor? You scared the life out of me!" He stepped further into the light before it even registered with Hermione that Victor Krum was standing in the halls of Hogwarts rather than his flat in London.
"Hello Hermione." His voice was deep. It was deeper than any she'd heard. She finally clued into the greater mystery.
"Viktor? What are you doing here?"
"I got your letter."
His eyes flashed when he said it and the sarcasm tainting the words was palpable. This was not a friendly visit. Whereas surprise had sent her heart pounding before, fear began to increase its rate now. He was furious. She had to think of something to say. But what?
"Er- yes. The letter. Well, you see, I didn't want to…"
"It's him isn't it?" His voice rose significantly.
"W-who?" she stammered.
"Potter! You're in love with boy wonder aren't you?" The blood coursing by her eardrums was making it difficult to hear. Krum's eyes were piercing. His hands were shaking and she suddenly felt entirely too close to him. She took a step back and scrambled for an answer. He matched her step, moving even closer than before, and her brain froze. She couldn't think. Krum had said his name, and before the words passed his lips, her thoughts were singularly focused on Harry.
Harry! Where is Harry?
Before she knew it, she had turned to run. Run somewhere, run anywhere. Run to find Harry, find Ron, even Filch! She didn't care. She was not the girl expecting a knight in shining armor to gallop in and rescue her from the evil menace, but she was out of her league, and she knew it. Krum was educated at Durmstrang. She wasn't stupid. She knew what his forte was. While she was a member of the D.A. and rather adept at handling herself, the "flight" response had well overcome the "fight." She ran as fast as she could, heading for the safety of the Gryffindor common room. The hopeful scene of Harry and Ron bursting through the portrait hole to her rescue flashed through her mind. She chanced a quick look behind her.
Krum was gone. She'd lost him.
Her footsteps slowed as she peered behind her.
Thank the gods! The common room, I've got to get to the common room!
She turned forward, her saving destination only a few corridors away. As she turned the corner, her heart lodged itself in her throat.
"No!"
Viktor Krum was blocking her path with his wand extended. She was running so fast, it was physically impossible to stop before she reached him. Seconds seemed like minutes, every motion made from either of them appeared to take hours. Even the gracefully floating dust particles, illuminated by the sunlight streaking through the window, seemed to freeze in midair. She couldn't think. She couldn't stop.
She couldn't hear the spell.
Black ropes flew from the end of his wand and she threw her arms up in a futile attempt to stop them. Her hands were quickly bound together in front of her as additional ropes tangled through her feet, throwing her off balance, and sending her crashing to the floor. A firelight of stars erupted in front of her eyes as her head connected with the rough stone floor. She blinked furiously, trying to clear her field of vision to no avail. She didn't so much see Krum as felt his presence draw near.
Harry! Oh, God Harry, help me!
Viktor flew into a rage. Hermione suddenly realized her pleading must have escaped her lips as it passed through her mind. Her hands were bound tightly together at the wrist and her thumb brushed over the ring Harry had given her for Christmas. She heard Viktor's footsteps approaching and felt the ring slip off her hand and clink delicately to the floor as her vision cleared just enough to see Krum's fist headed ominously toward her.
Oddly, she didn't feel the pain of the contact. She only saw a blinding white light. She felt his hands seize her around the shoulders as he dragged her to her feet. That was when she felt the pain. Her head was pounding, her eyes didn't want to open and her range of vision became clouded with hundreds of black flowers that bloomed silently behind her eyes, sending her peacefully into darkness.
Hermione dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief that Madam Pomfrey had offered while she reminisced about the prior year's events. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Hermione's demeanor returned to its original state.
"What happened after that?"
Hermione looked at the healer incredulously. "What do you mean? Everyone knows what happened after that!"
"Well, I dare say I'm a bit out of touch."
"Honestly, the next part is a bit of a blur to me. I don't remember much of it. I awoke to find him hovering over me at the end of the passageway to Hogsmeade…"
"Get up." Krum's hands clamped around Hermione's upper arms and he pulled her to her feet once again.
"Viktor, please," Hermione muttered softly. Everything had happened so fast, she wasn't sure what to make of any of it. Viktor had told her he was in love with her. But, this is not how people in love behave! Normally she would've engaged in a fierce internal dialogue to discern what was happening, why it was happening, and what she could do to prevent it. However, between blows to the head, a lack of consciousness, and considerable amount of emotional confusion over the subject, she was far less eloquent.
Why? Why? Why?
He wrapped her in a long cloak and pulled the hood over her head, obscuring most of her vision. Her arms and legs were still bound together but he appeared to have a plan for that. He muttered the locomotor charm and she felt her feet gently lift from the floor. He put an arm around her back and pushed her floating body along as he walked into the blinding sunlight that flooded the main avenue of Hogsmeade.
She hated to admit she was moderately impressed. She imagined to any passing witch or wizard she would've appeared to be walking alongside of Krum. She thought to cry out for help to someone, anyone, but her vocal chords were failing to produce the slightest noise.
A silencing charm.
He pushed her along the street and heard the shrill tinkling of a bell announcing their arrival to whatever shop they had entered. The hood obscured her view of virtually everything except the floor. It looked familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen it before. She made a mental note to take more notice of the flooring in the shops she visited the next time she was in Hogsmeade.
If there is a next time.
Her heart pounded in her throat again. She was off Hogwarts grounds. No one would know where she was. Ron and Harry didn't expect to see her for several hours. She shuddered at the thought of what might befall her in that amount of time. The only one who would truly notice her absence, aside from Professor Vector, would be Merc Thompson. While they'd certainly discussed Harry and Ron over many Arithmancy study breaks, Hermione had never taken the opportunity to introduce them formally. She had become a good friend, but was never part of the "trio," extended or not. Therefore, she didn't have the same frame of reference as they did. Merc's first thought would not automatically drift to a vicious Dark Lord and his plot to kill Harry and anyone in his path. While she was sure her absence from Arithmancy would inspire Ron and Harry to call everyone short of Merlin himself for a rescue mission, Merc Thompson would likely only find is unsettling and think to mention it later.
She was in serious trouble, and no one knew about it.
They crossed the dusty floor and she saw a dark staircase appear under the hood at her feet. She floated downward, the soles of her shoes occasionally tapping along the risers and upon reaching the bottom was moved more forcefully into a dark room at the end of the corridor. Krum lifted the charm and her feet fell to the floor as he pushed her over and in to the corner. He began pacing in the darkness across the room. He was mumbling incoherently and would occasionally stop, turning his head toward her. She froze. She had no idea how to get out of this situation. She felt confident her ability to talk her way out would not be successful given the fact he had silenced her earlier. So she sat silently and waited….and waited…and waited some more.
The scene continued this way for an indeterminate amount of time. Her emotions drifted between terror and absolute boredom. The catalyst between the two usually came anytime his motion stopped and his attention turned to her. He finally did the one thing she never expected.
He muttered an incantation under his breath and her bonds dissolved into thin air.
She rubbed her wrists silently and felt her throat tingle. She cleared it softly to test her hypothesis. It confirmed that the silencing charm had been removed as well. She looked to him and toward the door. She could make a break for it. She could scream for help at the top of her lungs. She could pull out her wand and hex him into the next century. They each had their risks, but she had to do something. The throbbing in her head had receded, enabling the undercurrent of her Gryffindor courage to rise.
I am not going to die here. Nor am I going to share myself with anyone other than Harry.
Oddly, as her thoughts turned to Harry she could've sworn she heard his voice. She closed her eyes and concentrated on him. She thought of his voice, his face, how scared she was, and how much she longed to see him again. Suddenly, his voice echoed in her head like a siren.
Tell me where you are…tell me where you are…tell me where you are.
She tried her absolute best to hide the shocked expression on her face. She could feel Harry trying to break into her mind the way he had so many times during their lessons. If she had any inclination to give up it vanished with the sound of his voice.
Harry knows!
She thought harder than she ever had. The hard truth was this: she didn't know where she was. She knew she was in Hogsmeade. She squeezed her eyes closed and conjured her own memories of the Hogsmeade shops in a desperate attempt to allow Harry to see it. Whether he got the message she didn't know. The next thing she heard was more terrible than any thus far.
"Crucio!"
Hermione was instantly enveloped in a shroud of pain so absolute she felt as if every cell in her body was exploding instantaneously. She was only mildly aware that the screaming that filled the room was issuing from her own lungs. Somewhere in a distant recess of her mind she realized Krum had countered the silencing charm so he could hear her cry out in pain. Just as quickly as that thought registered with her, the pain was gone.
"I loved you! You broke my heart and all for him!" he blasted. Hermione wanted desperately to explain. She wanted to tell him that she never meant to hurt him. She wanted to make him understand that she didn't deserve what he was doing to her. However, she couldn't manage to put those thoughts into words. Instead she tried to appeal to his
"Viktor…Viktor, please! If you loved me you wouldn't do this…please," she struggled to get the words out.
"Shut up!" he roared. "You'll never understand how much you hurt me! I moved halfway around the world for you, and you send me an owl! You sent me his owl!" he screamed.
There was no time to reply. Another wave of the Cruciatus slammed into her as she lay on the floor. She screamed as before and twitched uncontrollably as her legs curled up to her stomach. She couldn't hear Harry's voice in her head any longer. The conscious thoughts she had drifted to him, her love for him, and her despair that she might pass from this world without ever seeing him again.
Suddenly, he was there. His presence burst into her consciousness and the pain ebbed away quickly. She looked up to see Viktor, wand still extended, and realized the curse had not been lifted. Yet the pain was gone. She took a deep breath and looked at him, closing her mouth that still hung open from the screams that had recently passed through.
It was Viktor's turn to look shocked. He lowered his wand and stared at her with a look of complete befuddlement. She had no idea how she'd thrown off the Cruciatus Curse, but she wasn't about to let him know that...
"He tried it a few more times, I think just to see if he still could. Whatever I had done before, which I later realized wasn't me at all, I couldn't reproduce. The next thing I knew, the sounds of Harry and Ron's voice were drifting around in the back of my head. Oddly enough, it was Harry's scent that snapped me back to reality. I slowly became aware that he was holding me, carrying me somewhere. I opened my eyes only to find us in the presence of eight Death Eaters." Hermione dropped her head to her hand.
"You said you thought you'd never been so scared as when this happened. Your phraseology would suggest something scared you more. What was that?"
Hermione looked up suddenly. She was rather taken aback that Madam Pomfrey had not only been listening, but listening closely enough to analyze a sentence she'd muttered nearly an hour before. Still, she was right. "When I realized Damien was going to kill Harry," she answered.
"You've never told anyone that story have you?" Madam Pomfrey said, returning to the point.
She looked at Madam Pomfrey quizzically. "How do you know that?"
"You're exhausted dear, I can feel it."
Hermione couldn't argue the point. She was exhausted. She'd not even begun her lesson with Madam Pomfrey and she'd managed to wear herself out doing the one thing she didn't think she'd ever done…talk about herself. She suddenly felt the compelling urge to apologize.
"Madam Pomfrey, I'm so sorry. We're supposed to be starting lessons and I'm blustering on."
Madam Pomfrey laughed. "Hermione, this has been your lesson."
"But…" she began, utterly confused.
"Ms. Granger, being an empath does not have a logical answer. I imagine you'll be only slightly less frustrating to teach than the Slytherin I instructed a few years ago. I'm going to tell you the same thing I told her, which was the same thing told to me when I began my studies." Hermione sat forward in her chair. "You cannot possibly begin to understand the gift of empathy without first understanding yourself. You cannot discern the emotions of others before you are perceptive of your own."
Hermione sat back in her chair, thinking about the "point" of her first lesson.
"We'll, meet again next week. Until that time, I would like you to begin keeping a journal." Madam Pomfrey assigned.
Hermione looked up. Although the boys liked to believe she kept a journal as matter of habit, she really never had. She always saw journals as something overly emotional weepy girls kept because no one wanted to listen to them whine any longer. The dream journals Trelawney assigned to Harry and Ron only served to validate that in her mind.
"What kind of journal?" she asked suspiciously.
"I want you to track your emotions during the day. You need to see what triggers your range of emotions and the only way to do that is to track them, chart them, and analyze them afterward." Madam Pomfrey rose from her chair and began walking toward the hospital wing door. Hermione joined her.
Well, if it involves charting and critical analysis it must be all right.
She bid Madam Pomfrey good night and headed for Gryffindor Tower. Of all the lessons she'd had thus far, none had been more exhausting than this one. She longed for one thing…her four-poster bed with warming pans between the sheets.
Warming pans! House elves are the…
Shut up. If they like doing it so much, who am I to complain?
***
Harry made the rounds of the castle after returning from Quidditch practice. As always, he used the time to analyze practice and plan adjustments for the next one. Although it was exhausting, if he didn't multi-task there was no way he'd get everything accomplished. Usually, he and Hermione made rounds together, but on the nights she had lessons with Madam Pomfrey he went alone.
Her lessons had begun a few weeks ago and what they were doing intrigued Harry to no end. On several nights of solo rounds he thought to snatch Ron's extendable ears and find a reason to check the hospital wing. He hadn't done so as of yet. But, the temptation existed nonetheless.
He returned to the common room to find it deserted. As it was nearing the end of October, the professors' managed to hit their stride with assignments. Consequently, the tone of nearly every student achieved that notable shift between play and work. Clearly, the summer holiday was long forgotten and the stretch until Christmas seemed like an eternity.
Harry didn't mind the empty common room. He generally found it easier to study. Seventh years were scheduled to take their N.E.W.T.s this year, and their professors were quick to pile on assignments each saw as vital to their success. Combine that with the responsibilities of being both the Head Boys and Quidditch captain and it made for a brutal schedule. What's more, he wasn't entirely sure he was doing any of his responsibilities the service they required.
His marks were not nearly approximating the standards he had set in prior years. That's not really saying much; given the fact his standards were to "get by," more often than not. Hermione served as a constant reminder to him that his studies were falling by the wayside. As Head Boy, he was sure he could've done a better job there as well. On several occasions, he either missed students out after hours, or merely ignored the rattles issuing from the occasional supply cupboard. He also experienced a bit of a moral dilemma in taking points from rule-breaking students. On the rare occasion that he did deducted points from offending students, he felt the word "hypocrite" should just emblazon itself to the back of his robes.
Quidditch was the exact same story. He really felt as though he'd not given the team its due attention. Even without new teammates to choose and train, it purely amazed him how much time it took to do the job right. He and Ron spent quite a bit of time reviewing the Cannon's strategy Harry read about over the summer. He was convinced it would be an effective tactic against Ravenclaw's chasers. To that end, he revamped the program and set about training the team. However, at this point, he wasn't sure that the team was ready and he had run out of time. The match against Ravenclaw was scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. In the pit of his stomach he knew they weren't ready. What was worse, he knew he'd not done enough to get them ready.
Somewhere in his musings, Harry had done the same thing he'd done practically every night upon studying in a quiet common room…he fell dead asleep. As was her habit on these evenings, Hermione roused him when she returned from her lessons with Madam Pomfrey.
"Harry." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and whispered in his ear. He furrowed his eyebrows and let out a muffled groan. She smiled warmly and ruffled one hand through his hair while she embraced him from behind. Attempting to stifle a yawn, he picked his head up and rubbed his eyes.
"Hi," he whispered.
"Hi," she replied. He sat up straight in the chair and arched his back as she pulled her arms away. The features of Hermione's face ruffled with concern as she straddled the bench beside him. Harry turned to her hesitantly as she raised one hand to brush his cheek. "Harry, I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine," he said quickly as he removed her hand, kissing the back of it.
"When is the last time you got any sleep?"
"I don't know…what day is it again?" He chuckled briefly.
"That's not funny, Harry," she replied flatly. He dropped his eyes to the table in silent agreement. He noticed Hermione's gaze float speculatively toward the couch.
She took his hand and rose from the bench. "Come here." Not having the strength or willpower to argue, Harry obediently followed her to the couch. She pulled his arm toward it and looked across the room to the clock hanging on the adjacent wall. She considered the portrait hole opening and the dormitory staircases in succession. Apparently deciding it was late enough to deter interruption, she returned her attention to Harry. "Lie down on your back."
"Hermione," Harry began.
"Don't argue with me Harry," she insisted. Harry slowly sat on the couch and slid down sideways until he was propped haphazardly on his arm. Hermione pulled her wand from her robes and with a few muttered incantations, the candelabras dimmed and the common room fire danced wildly along the logs. She looked to where he had finally rested and rolled her eyes.
"I said lay down on your back." She picked up his legs and pushed them all the way onto the couch as she shoved his shoulder flat against the squashy crimson pillow. He couldn't help but smile at her frustration.
That smile quickly turned to shock.
"Hermione, what…" he began.
"Close your eyes, Harry," Hermione said quietly. He continued to stare at her as she hesitantly climbed on top of him; benignly straddling his legs at the knees. She rocked a bit from side to side getting comfortable and looked back to see he still hadn't complied with her directions. With a huff, she pulled her fingers downward over his eyes and drew them closed. "Trust me."
Harry didn't have the vaguest idea what Hermione was doing, but he had to admit now that he was laying down in a dim room, eyes closed, next to a roaring fire with Hermione perched on top of him…he had no inclination to move.
"Harry." Her voice was quiet and calm. "I want you to listen to the sound of my voice." He thought to say something witty, but it didn't come. Rather, he drew a deep breath and did exactly as she asked.
"I want you to clear your mind. Focus on my voice." He felt her hands on the clasp of his robes and his eyes snapped open. In his state of acute sleep deprivation, he nearly thought she was part veela. The blazing common room fire washed her features with a golden effervescence. Her generally alabaster skin appeared warm and tanned. The firelight reflected in her eyes and they darkened to the deepest brown he'd ever seen. He'd studied her features hundreds, if not thousands of times over the past seven years, but he never got tired of doing so. She absently brushed a lock of hair from her face as she opened the clasp on his robes and easily pushed the fabric to his sides. His breath hitched in his chest and her eyes met his.
Her lips turned upward, hinting at a contented smirk and she fell forward to capture his lips with her own. Harry wrapped his arms around her, only to have her pull away. "Didn't I tell you to trust me?" She drew her hand across his eyes again, closing them for the second time.
Harry's shoulders slumped back to the pillow as he let out a defeated sigh. The shaking of his lower legs clearly indicated Hermione's giggling response to his disappointment.
"I want you to think of ocean waves." She began unbuttoning his shirt. Harry shifted visibly on the couch. "And relax." He could tell she was smiling as she released the last button she spread his shirt to his sides, exposing his chest. "Think of the waves rolling peacefully onto the shore." As she described the calming rhythm of the sea, she pressed the heels of her hands into his chest, pushing them firmly upward.
"The warmth of the fire is the sun streaming down on the beach," she continued speaking slowly and kneading the muscles in his chest and neck.
"You're on a holiday and ready to release some of this stress." Harry felt his breathing grow deeper. "I want you to focus on all of the stress that's locked in your body. I want you to focus on my hands. Think about the waves washing over you. Each wave is washing the stress from your body." She worked her hands across his chest.
If Harry had any inclination to tell her this was a silly idea when she started, it quickly left him. She continued talking to him quietly. He recognized this exercise as something tantamount to the guided visualizations that helped him so much last year. As her voice directed the "waves" over his hands, arms, chest and neck, her hands drew the tension from his body. Each successive effort left him feeling physically heavier. He felt as though he were sinking into the couch, his limbs as heavy as lead. Her voice grew more and more distant until is seemed to be a mere echo in his head.
He fell into a state with no temporal restrictions. He had no idea how long she continued the endeavor. It could've been five minutes or five hours. The soft contact of her lips upon his drew his thoughts back to the reality of the common room. She kissed him lightly, her hands now motionless on his chest, and his eyes flickered open.
He was greeted by her warm smile and soft eyes. He kissed her again. She sat up, smiling, and recovered his chest with his shirt. "Do you feel better?"
"Loads, thank you," he replied almost disbelievingly. He felt like he'd slept for hours and the stabbing tension from his shoulders had vanished entirely. "Is that something Madam Pomfrey taught you?"
She giggled. "Perhaps a little, some of these stress reducing techniques tend to help me. Honestly, you can guide yourself through it. But I thought you might need a bit of encouragement."
Harry lowered his eyelids mischievously. "It must've been purely awful for you."
"Yes, yes. It was quite a chore." She wiggled her eyebrows scandalously.
Harry smiled broadly. He snaked his hand around her neck and coiled his fingers in the curls of her hair, pulling her closer. "I hate chores," he said darkly and pressed his lips firmly to hers. He pulled her against him and wrapped his other arm around her waist. Eventually surrendering to the biological need to breathe, they broke apart and Hermione pulled away.
She raised one eyebrow as her lips curled into a smirk. "Harry, this entire exercise is intended to relieve tension." He chuckled quietly, fully understanding the finer nuances of her comment.
"But, I feel like I've slept for hours," he replied with a smile.
"That's exactly what you need to do." She rolled off of him and stood up, straightening her shirt that had somehow gone askew. With a grin, she extended her hand and helped him off the couch.
He knew better than to argue with Hermione; especially when she was right. As he stood up, the full measure of his fatigue revisited him. What's more, the muscles of his upper body were slow to respond given their relaxed state. Hermione wrapped her arm around him, as he did her, and they stepped to the dormitory staircase together.
"You have a big day tomorrow Captain Potter," Hermione said playfully as she unnecessarily buttoned his shirt.
"Yeah," he replied as he watched her hands work the buttons.
"Sleep well," she said quietly, her hands coming to rest on his chest. She smiled warmly as she looked at the red stone glowing brilliantly on her left hand. "I love you."
"I love you," he echoed with a soft kiss. "Good night."
"Sweet dreams." She stepped to the stairs and disappeared out of sight. As Harry remained, looking at the place where he'd seen her last, he thought back to her choice of imagery.
A sun drenched beach.
He smiled inwardly and traversed the stairs to his dormitory nearly disbelieving the familiarity of her "happy place."
