A Cold Winter Night

Disclaimer: Nope, I don’t own Harry Potter. JKR does. If I did own Harry Potter, do you think I’d be writing this?

Author's Notes: This is just a plot bunny that's been in my head for a while, so I decided to write about it. Enjoy!

A Cold Winter Night

The nightmare was worse than usual. Harry trembled slightly as he looked around the dormitory; the other four were fast asleep. He took a huge gulp of breath and tried to calm himself—no good. He couldn't stay here, he didn't want to go back to sleep.

The window to his right rattled as the cold, harsh winter wind hit it. He put on his robe and gathered a blanket. Then quietly, he left the dormitory and headed down the spiral steps to the common room.

The fire crackled merrily when he entered. It was obvious that Dobby had not been by yet. He settled himself on the floor and stared into the fire, wishing Sirius's head would pop out. Outside, it had begun to snow.

He wasn't alone for long. He heard behind him a door open and close and then a surprised sounding, "Harry!"

He turned around to see Hermione standing behind him wearing a pair of pink pajamas.

"What are you doing down here?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same," he replied.

"Oh, I couldn't sleep. The wind," she said and gestured vaguely towards the window. "You?"

"The same," he replied. He really didn't want to tell her about the dream; it would only make her worry more.

She shivered. "I should have brought a blanket down like you did," she said as she hugged herself for warmth.

"Come here," Harry said and opened up his blanket, "so you won't freeze."

She smiled gratefully and sat down next to him. He wrapped the blanket around her and scooted closer.

"I wish I could go to sleep," Hermione murmured. "Professor McGonagall said that we're going to require a clear head for class tomorrow."

"Yeah," Harry replied, knowing that he'd never be able to have a clear head. But that didn't mean Hermione shouldn't be able to.

"It's so cold and drafty up in my dorm, how about yours?"

"I could see my breath."

She laughed. "I guess neither of us will be able to think straight in class tomorrow." They were silent for a long time before Hermione put her head on his shoulder and asked, "What are you thinking?"

"About Sirius," he answered honestly.

She lifted her head. "It must be hard."

He sighed and leaned back against the large, plush sofa. "I see him every night," he revealed, shocking himself, "in my dreams. Every night he dies all over again."

"Oh, Harry!" she cried and flung her arms around him. "I'm so sorry."

He said nothing and neither did she. They held onto each other for what seemed like eternity until Harry noticed the steady breath on his neck. Looking over, he saw that Hermione had finally fallen asleep. But he did not leave her. He wrapped his arms back around her and closed his eyes. Maybe he would be able to have a dreamless night's sleep with her by his side.