Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Hey, does anyone remember me? I wrote this fic once. It was called Lines Crossed. And then I got busy and started updating less frequently. I'm very thankful to anyone that has stuck with me. That being said, I think this chapter requires somewhat of an explanation. What I originally wanted for 23 ended up being rather long, so 23 is now two parts. One of which is chapter 23 and the other being chapter 24. So when this chapter ends rather abruptly, it's because it's not really over, over, if you know what I mean. Also, the entire thing is pretty much one big dream sequence. I may have gotten carried away.

A/N: Thanks to my loffly betas Kristin and James who corrected my stupid spelling errors.

Harry's final week in the hospital wing was a complete blur. He remembered the two-hour interview with Madam Snow, but he couldn't remember much of what actually ended up going in the article. However, Dumbledore claimed that the wizarding world was reassured, and Ron told him that he'd been elevated back to "hero status." He even won Witch Weekly's most charming smile award. Hermione assured him that he did, in fact, have quite a disarming grin and it always managed to reduce her to a great big pile of goo. That declaration was followed by a very hearty snog-fest, as well as several other things that Harry blushed thinking about.

He spent most of his time sleeping. Doing even the simplest of spells exhausted him. This, of course, only furthered Hermione's resolve to completely catch him up come exams. When they weren't kissing (and they were spending quite a lot of time kissing), Hermione was making him copy down notes and write papers so, by the time he was strong enough to do magic again, he wouldn't be too far behind. Predictably, Ron was finding the entire thing hilariously funny.

For his part, Harry was pretty sure he was nearing the stage where he would have jumped off a cliff had Hermione asked him to. This scared him, in no small part because it meant he was opening up to her in a way he never had before. The old fears grabbed him at the oddest moments, constantly reminding him that if losing her would have been terrible before, now it was inconceivable.

"Trying to kill you… bloody mad, she is…"

Harry snapped to attention, raising his eyes from the book he was reading. Hermione was off trying to finish some of her own work, plus prefect duties she'd been ignoring, and had left Ron with him in hopes that the red-head would continue to force Harry to study. Harry was very certain Hermione had a made a very bad judgment call.

Ron was currently staring at Harry's pile of books, a look of clear revulsion on his face. "Oi, Harry! You know, she managed to sneak Hogwarts: A History in here. Bloody hell. Mate, I hate to be the bearer of bad news… but I think she's trying to kill you…"

Harry glanced at his books, feeling an odd sort of urgency in his stomach. "Well, you know, Ron, I'm still so far behind. I'll never catch up in time for exams. Plus Hogwarts: A History is actually a quite fascinating read, when you get right down to it. There's loads of information in it-"

Ron cleared his throat loudly. "Harry, I think you're beginning to channel Hermione. This is very disturbing."

Harry blinked at him a few times before shutting the book he was frantically trying to read. He leaned back against his pillows, feeling somewhat sheepish. "Dear Merlin," he breathed. "You're right… since when have I cared so much about exams? Since when has Hogwarts: A History ever been interesting?"

Ron made a vague note of disgust in the back of his throat. "Um, let's see. How long since your touching reunion with Hermione?"

Harry glared at him. "No, no way! I'm my own person! I'm completely separate from Hermione! This is just… coincidence! After effects from being possessed by Voldemort!"

"Too much snogging with your girlfriend…"

With a blush, Harry shut his mouth. Ron gave him a knowing look.

"Yep," Ron said, looking somewhat haughty. "You've become pathetic, you no longer think for yourself, you have no free thoughts-"

"Ron," Harry interrupted testily. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Ron picked up Hogwarts: A History and waved it in front of Harry's face. "She has you reading Hogwarts: A History, Harry! WAKE UP! THIS IS NOT NORMAL BEHAVIOUR FOR YOU!"

Harry snatched at the book. "Be careful with it, Ron," he hissed. "Hermione would kill me if anything happened to it…"

Ron raised his eyebrows.

Harry blanched.

Carefully, Harry set the book back down on the floor.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

Ron shook his head. "Merlin, Hermione must be one good kisser…"

Harry glared at him. "I've just been…in the hospital wing too long. You never know what's in those potions Madam Pomfrey gives you. Once I'm out of here, things will go back to normal. I'll play Quidditch and chess and… and I'll stop studying so much! "

"Uh huh," Ron said, clearly not believing him. "If you start knitting elf hats, I reserve the right to turn you over to You-Know-Who."

Harry's eyes widened. "Ron, if I start knitting elf hats, I'll turn myself over to Voldemort."

Ron shook his head ruefully. "Just so long as I don't have to watch the pair of you be just friends again."

Harry merely grinned. Trying to look casual, he said, "So… how are things going with Luna?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm going to Australia with her this summer."

Harry gasped. "Really?"

Ron grinned. "No."

Harry laughed. "C'mon Ron," he needled. "Tell me about your feelings."

"Strangely enough, I feel like hitting you right now."

"That's a good start. Remember, just be honest with me and we can get through it."

"Har har," Ron muttered. "I knew I was going to regret trying to get you to open up…"

"Ron," Harry said seriously. "I really want to know. How are things going with her?"

Ron stared at him for a moment. "I like spending time with her," he finally said quietly. "Yeah, she's a little… mad. But I feel like there's… there's a reason for it, you know? I always feel like she's just a little out of my reach. Whenever she tells me something I feel like she's leaving something out and I want desperately to know what it is. She's… smart, Harry. Really smart. Not like Hermione, more… more, I dunno, naturally smart, if there's such a thing. She sees the world differently than the rest of us. I don't really… I don't really know what to make of it."

"She's been through a lot," Harry said softly. "I respect her a lot for it."

Ron sighed. "It's hard sometimes. I'll be honest, I'm not completely over Hermione. But I don't think things would have ever worked out between us. Can you imagine? Hermione forcing me to catch up on my schoolwork? We'd bloody kill each other."

Harry gave him a ghost of a smile. "And I'm not going to lie to you either, Ron. It's really not so painful to have Hermione as a tutor."

Ron rolled his eyes. "For you, maybe. All you have to do is flash the World's Most Charming Smile at her and she melts into your arms."

Harry coughed slightly, feeling his cheeks heat up. "That's… hardly the point."

"Hmmm," Ron muttered, glancing down at Hogwarts: A History again. "At least we don't have to worry about you flunking out anymore."

"I s'pose…"

"Though, the chances of you actually completing an entire Quidditch season are up in the air…"

Harry felt a little sick. "That's hardly comforting."

"Yep," Ron said, a little proudly. "It wasn't meant to be." Off Harry's look, he hastened to explain. "I'm still working through my jealousy issues."

"Right," Harry muttered. "Then, I guess… well, you probably wouldn't cry if you thought I was… I dunno… dead or something."

Ron's eyes widened. "What? Who told you that?"

Harry tried to look innocent. "Told me what? Are you… Ron! Are you admitting to something?"

Ron picked up Hogwarts: A History and chucked it at him. "I'm going to kill her," he hissed. "I'm going to murder her."

"Good," Harry said, rubbing at his chest where Hogwarts: A History had hit him. "Because then she won't have a chance to kill me for…"

"Kill you for what?"

Harry and Ron jumped and turned to look at the doorway. Hermione was frowning at them, a speculative look on her face.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly. He searched his brain for something to distract her. "How were your prefect rounds?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and approached his bedside. "I found Pansy Parkinson and Malfoy going at it again in the Room of Requirement." Hermione sighed. "Not that I could do anything about it-Malfoy's a prefect."

Ron nodded blankly. "Yeah, Luna and I once…" Harry gave a small cough and Ron's eyes widened. Clearing his throat, Ron looked pleadingly at Hermione. "You were saying…"

"That leaving my prefect duties to you, Ron, was somewhat of a mistake!" Hermione snapped.

"So…" Harry cut in casually. "What you're saying is… if you're a prefect… you can get away with shagging in the Room of Requirement?"

Ron's flush increased. "Well, I wouldn't know anything about it!"

"Depends on what you're saying, Harry," Hermione said, staring at him through narrowed eyes.

"Well, I just think it's interesting," Harry continued, avoiding her eyes. "Since, you know, you just happen to be a prefect and all. That's all I'm saying."

"I refuse to kiss you anywhere near any of Malfoy's bodily fluids!" Hermione shrieked. "Do you hear me?"

"Quite well, actually."

"So," Hermione continued cheerfully. "What am I going to kill you for?"

"Erm…"

"We weren't talking about you," Ron interrupted suddenly. "We were talking about Ginny."

"Ginny?"

"Yes, Ginny," Ron continued, face impassive. "Still upset that we had to forfeit that Quidditch match, you know. She's taking it quite hard."

Hermione frowned. "Well," she said scathingly. "That was hardly Harry's fault now, was it? It wasn't like he chose to become possessed by Voldemort!"

Ron held up his hands. "Hey, I don't blame him! Ginny'll get over it. It was just… such a disappointment for her."

"Disappointment?" Hermione said shrilly. "Then what was it when Harry was possessed?"

"Hermione," Ron said, sounding annoyed. "I told you, I don't blame Harry at all! This is about Ginny…"

Glad that Ron was bailing him out, Harry yawned sleepily. He leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of Hermione and Ron's gentle bickering wash over him...

He was walking down a long path. It was a path that he hadn't ever been on before and didn't have any memories of. It trailed through the woods, dipping under long trees and passing brooks and streams. It was hot, Harry could feel little beads of sweat collecting at the bottom of his spine. Unconsciously, he swiped at his forehead. His face was clammy and wet, but his scar burned under his hand.

He ripped his hand away, eyes searching the woods suspiciously. Only the sounds of birds chirping reached his ears.

He continued along the path. The sun shone down through the trees, creating little pools of light. He watched the ground as he walked, feeling like he was doomed to go endlessly on. He was certain that there was somewhere very important that he had to be.

He kept going, and eventually reached a small clearing in the woods. There was Hagrid's hut, nestled in the trees. Fang was lying curled in a ball outside the door.

He squinted at it, bewildered. What was Hagrid's hut doing in the middle of his path?

Harry was suddenly aware of loud chopping noises. Curious, he ventured further into the clearing, following the noise. He made his way behind the hut, pausing in surprise as he did so.

Hagrid and Ron were chopping wood. Hagrid was using the same axe he used for the Yarmuchs. Ron kept placing large logs in front of him, which Hagrid would promptly cut through. They didn't seem to be aware that Harry was watching them.

Finally, Harry approached them. "Ron, Hagrid…what are you doing here?"

Ron glanced at him, bored. "I dunno, Harry. It's your dream, after all. What are we doing here?"

Harry frowned. "I don't… I'm dreaming?"

Hagrid laughed, a deep sound that seemed to emanate up from his belly. "'Course yeh are, Harry!"

"Well, then…" Harry said uncertainly. "I s'pose I was getting lonely."

Ron swapped at a mosquito that landed on his arm. He picked up another log for Hagrid to chop. "Lonely, Harry? Is that how you feel? C'mon, you can tell me. Best friends, right?"

"I… sometimes, I guess. I mean… I am alone, aren't I?"

Hagrid's axe split the log of wood in two with a dull thud. "Yeh're not alone, Harry," he said reassuringly, wiping sweat off his brow. "Yeh'll always have Hermione and Ron with yeh."

Ron grinned. "That's right, Harry. We'd do anything for you, you know that."

"Yeah… I guess…" Harry answered, feeling dubious.

Ron picked up another log of wood for Hagrid to chop. He frowned, appearing deep in concentration. "Look, Harry. I know I can be a jealous prat sometimes, but that hardly means I'd let you die alone."

Harry absentmindedly touched a hand to his cheek. He swallowed. "But… it's my responsibility to fight Voldemort…"

"Yeh'd better move on, Harry," Hagrid said, a warning note to his voice.

Harry glanced back at the path, feeling reluctant. "I don't really know where I'm going, Hagrid."

Hagrid and Ron were too focused on chopping wood to notice that he'd said anything.

Harry, feeling increasingly bewildered, slowly made his way back to the path. Soon Hagrid's hut had faded into the distance. The day was growing increasingly hot, and Harry was glad for the shade the canopy of trees provided for him.

Some indefinite amount of time later, he stumbled upon a small creek. It crossed over his path, and the water twinkled in the patches of sunlight. Jagged rocks stood out, the water flowing over and through them. Harry crouched desperately in front of it, his mouth feeling dry and scratchy.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Harry glanced up sharply, eyes settling on Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnagan. They were sitting on the other side of the creek, a game of Wizarding Chess spread out between them.

"What's wrong with the water?" Harry asked them, glancing at the creek suspiciously.

Dean Thomas shrugged. "I don't know, Harry. That's sort of the problem, isn't it?" Dean looked at the chess game. "It's your move."

Seamus shook his head. "I've always hated chess, never been much good at it, I'm afraid. Is Ron around, Harry? He'd probably be loads of help."

Harry jerked his shoulder. "Yeah, I just passed him. He seemed awfully busy, though."

"Chopping wood again?" Seamus inquired, sounding indifferent.

"Yeah."

"That's all he ever does, nowadays," Dean said sadly. "It's still your move."

"I don't know, Dean. I feel like every move would be the wrong one."

Harry glanced at the chessboard and was somewhat horrified to see that the pieces were all lined up in their starting positions.

"Why is Ron so busy chopping wood with Hagrid?" Harry asked, stepping over the brook.

"Well, you know," Seamus said. "He doesn't really have anything better to do."

"What d'you mean?" Harry said, with a frown.

Seamus and Dean looked at each other. "It's still your move," Dean said irritably.

Harry glared down at the board. "Neither of you have moved yet!" he snapped. "Just move a pawn, Seamus! I promise that won't make you lose the game!"

Seamus pondered that quietly for a moment. Shrugging, he moved a pawn, gaping at it when nothing earth shattering happened. "Thanks, Harry!" he said happily.

"I guess it's my move now," Dean said, sounding somewhat miserable by the prospect.

"Why is Ron chopping wood?" Harry asked again. "Why won't he come with me?"

"Because you don't need him anymore," Seamus explained, as if speaking to a child. "You could try moving a pawn, Dean. It seemed to work for me."

"But…" Harry said, confused. "But… but I do!"

Dean and Seamus both turned to look at him now, angry frowns on their faces.

"Harry, do you mind?" Seamus said. "We're trying to play a game here!"

"Yeah," Dean added. "It's kind of hard to concentrate with you yammering on."

Frustrated, Harry glared down at them. "A game?" he said, incredulous. "You're not playing a game! You're just staring blankly at that stupid board!"

"Well, what would you know about it, Harry?" Dean snapped. "You've never won a game of Wizarding Chess before."

"Fine," Harry said, through gritted teeth. "Will you just tell me what's gotten into Ron?"

"Harry, we don't know," Seamus explained. "This is your mind, remember?"

"U.R.S.T." Dean said, knowingly. "Poor, poor Ron."

Harry stared at Dean. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"We were wrong," Seamus said sadly, pointing at the board. "It's your move, Dean."

"I'm thinking!" Dean declared angrily.

Harry, deciding that he wouldn't be getting any straight answers out of them, moved on. He followed the path along a sharp bend, wishing that he hadn't listened to Dean's warning and taken a drink of water. His throat was awfully dry.

The path curved upwards, and Harry followed it. The trees thinned and the sun beat down on his head. The path became dustier and he kicked up little tufts of sand with his feet. Though he was tired, Harry increased his pace, certain that there was somewhere important he had to be.

At the top of the hill, Harry paused, taking in a deep breath. He touched his side, feeling a stitch slicing into his stomach. He wished that he could find some shade.

He heard a small peal of laughter, coming just off the path. He glanced in the direction of the sound, seeing a circle of cedar trees. Eyebrows crinkling in interest, Harry stepped off the path and approached the circle of trees.

The sounds of laughter increased. It was a high-pitched noise and sounded oddly familiar. Harry ducked under the branch of the first cedar tree, jaw-dropping in surprise at the image that greeted him.

Dobby and Dumbledore sat cross-legged on the ground, a good ten feet away from each other. They were rolling a large beach ball back and forth between each other, something that was making Dobby shake with giggles.

Harry watched in dumb fascination for a moment before clearing his throat. Dumbledore looked up, eyes crinkling in greeting. "Harry," he said warmly. "What brings you here?"

Harry stared. "I don't know, really…"

Dobby squeaked nervously as the ball rolled to a stop in front of him. "Must not stop Headmaster, Dumbledore, Sir. Must not stop."

Dumbledore turned his attention back to Dobby. "Quite right, Dobby. Carry on."

Dobby rolled the ball towards Dumbledore. "Dobby is very happy to see you Harry Potter, Sir. Dobby has been very worried about Harry Potter's health."

"I'm, uh, fine, Dobby. I'm feeling much better now."

Dumbledore nodded. "That's reassuring, Harry. You don't have very much time left."

Harry's head was spinning. "Time until what?"

Dumbledore passed the beach ball back to Dobby. "To get to where you're going, of course."

"Where I'm going…" Harry repeated, in confusion. "Professor, I don't know. I don't know where I'm going."

Dobby shook his head sadly. "But you is the Boy Who Lived, Sir!"

"Well, I didn't mean to be the Boy Who Lived!" Harry burst out. "I'm no different from anyone else!"

"But you are, Harry," Dumbledore said, with uncharacteristic seriousness.

Harry stepped closer to him. "Are you sure?" he demanded. "I don't have any special powers or skills! I'm just… a regular wizard! I'm no more powerful than you! Why can't you defeat Voldemort?"

Dobby shuddered. "Harry Potter must defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! There is no one else, Sir!"

"Look inside yourself, Harry," Dumbledore cautioned gravely, eyes on the rolling beach ball.

"Look inside myself?" Harry exploded. "Look inside myself? What kind of advice is that?"

"That, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, accepting the beach ball from Dobby and sending it back towards him. "Is the best advice I can offer you."

"Well, Professor," Harry snapped. "It's not very good advice."

"Careful Headmaster, Dumbledore, Sir," Dobby squeaked nervously. "That one came dangerously close to rolling away."

"That it did, Dobby. That it did."

Harry stared at them for another moment before moving back to the path. "He's insane," Harry muttered under his breath. "Look inside myself, he says!"

Back at the path, Harry was relieved to find that the temperature had cooled down somewhat. It worried him, however. It meant that the day was beginning to end. He remembered what Dumbledore had said. His time was running out.

Time to what?

Shaking his head, Harry descended the hill. At the bottom, the path became smoother, the dust and sand replaced the dried mud. Small cracks and erosions had been woven into the mud with time.

There was a slight breeze now and the sweat trickling down his back felt cooler. His messy hair rustled untamed around his face. He brushed his bangs out of his eyes, peering ahead of him. The path curved on, undaunted.

He took a sharp turn and stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes landed on the figure of Luna Lovegood, standing just next to the path. She was staring intently up at the sky, one hand held over her eyes to shield her vision from the sun.

Harry made his way over to her, eager to see what she was looking at. Coming to a stop at her elbow, he heard her speaking, though she did not turn to look at him.

"He's really improving, isn't he?"

Harry was about to answer when Ginny and Neville stepped out of the woods to stand beside her. Like Luna, they both looked intently up at the sky, hand held over their eyes.

"He really is," Ginny said, some pride leaking into her voice.

"Wish I could do that," Neville said glumly.

"Who's improving?" Harry asked loudly.

"Why, Ron, of course!" Luna said, still staring up at the sky.

Harry looked up as well, letting out a gasp of surprise when his eyes fell upon his red-head friend. He was riding his Cleansweep 7 broomstick, though Harry could see he was doing quite badly. He was facing in the wrong direction and, as a result, his broom bucked wildly beneath him, sending Ron into jerky circles and jumps.

"Absolutely brilliant on that thing," Ginny said, sounding amazed. "Talent such as that…"

Ron grinned down at them, holding on tightly as his broom jerked and twitched in the sky. "Hello, Harry!" he called. "How's the walk going?"

Harry stared at him. "Ron… what are you doing?"

"Practicing, of course!" Ron said, sounding scandalized. "What does it look like I'm doing, Mr. Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team?"

"Weasley is my king…" Luna hummed reverently under her breath.

Ginny looked startled. "Luna, please! That's my brother up there!"

Harry shook his head. "Ron, get off there! I need your help!"

Ron flapped around wildly on his broom. "What are you talking about, Harry?"

"Ron, c'mon! I don't know where I'm going and… it'd be really nice to have some company!" Harry dropped his voice. "I think I'm going to face Voldemort…"

Ron huffed out a breath. "Harry, can't you get Hermione to go with you? I'm just a little bit busy at the moment."

Harry stared at him helplessly. "I haven't seen Hermione yet, Ron."

"Well, I'm sure she's around somewhere. You two haven't been very far apart these days."

"Maybe," Harry answered, feeling unsure. "But I just… I don't want you to think that I don't need you."

"Why would I think that?"

"Stop distracting him!" Ginny hissed. "He's showing us all what he can do!"

"Yeah," Neville added, glowering at Harry. "Talent like this, Harry. You should be taking notes."

Ron's broom swerved dangerously back and forth beneath him. Luna let out a soft, "Ooooh…" and stared at him with rapt attention.

"Okay, Ron," Harry said, frowning. "If you're having fun…"

"Hey, Luna!" Ron said. "Watch this!"

The broom jerked up and down in sharp descents and ascents, causing Ron to hold on so tightly his knuckles turned white. Luna clapped her hands and jumped up and down.

"Brilliant, Ron!" she yelled out. "You're my hero!"

Ron blushed and beamed down at them. "Go on, Harry," he prodded. "I'm fine."

"Well… if you're sure…"

In answer, Luna, Neville, and Ginny moved in front of him, shouldering him out of the way. His view of Ron effectively blocked, Harry sighed and turned his attention back to the path.

He was lonely and he felt slightly hurt that Ron was too busy showing off to go along with him. He'd never abandoned him before (besides that one time in fourth-year) and Harry wondered why practicing for Quidditch suddenly became so much more important.

And where was Hermione, anyway? He pondered that inexplicable question for a moment, missing her presence fiercely. If anyone had an explanation for what was going on, it would be her.

Lost in thought, he continued along the path. The path became rockier, sharp pebbles and stones wormed their way through the sole's of his shoes and pinched at his feet. Harry winced, but continued on, Dumbledore's warning continuing to echo ominously in his mind.

The day was getting darker, the shadows from the trees lengthening and flowing across the path. Compared to the heat of the early day, Harry felt quite chilled and he rubbed his arms.

Stopping for a moment to catch his breath, he heard the soft murmur of voices. He froze, his insides tightening up. He knew who those voices belonged to…

Feeling slight trepidation and slight excitement, Harry crept forward. He could just see the green tip of a large umbrella poking up from behind a grove of trees. Veering off the path, Harry brushed tree branches out of his way in an eagerness to see the people belonging to the voices.

When he found them, he stopped again, completely speechless as he stared in wonder. There, sitting calmly at a small, glass table were his parents and Sirius. They were smiling and joking with one another, drinking cups of tea and munching on biscuits.

Harry swallowed, unable to move.

His mother looked up at him, and Harry felt tears prick the back of his eyes. She smiled warmly at him and held out a hand.

"James," she said, nudging him. "Look who it is."

His father was looking at him now, face split into a wide grin. "Harry!" he said, sounding delighted. "We were wondering when you'd show up."

"Come, Harry," his mother said warmly. "There's a cup of tea here waiting for you."

Suddenly weak with emotion, Harry was surprised when his legs managed to carry him over to the table. He sunk gratefully into the chair next to Sirius, reaching for his cup of tea as he did so.

Sirius turned to look at him, and Harry was struck by how young and handsome his godfather looked. Gone were the sunken eyes of Azkaban, the unshaven look. Sirius looked clean, filled, and happy.

"Harry," he greeted. "It's good to see you again."

Harry just nodded, feeling a large lump gather in his throat.

"How are you doing, Harry?" his mother questioned, staring at him intently.

"Aww, come on, Lily, how do you think he's doing?" Harry's father said softly.

Harry finally managed to unglue his tongue long enough to say. "I'm doing… okay."

The three adults shared a long, concerned look.

Harry stared at them, feeling the familiar self-pity worm its way into his mind. This, this is what he'd never had. He'd never had parents to share his life with. There'd never been anyone to comfort him when he fell down and scraped his knee, no one to beat up the school bullies for him, no one to help him with homework or read his report cards…

Sitting next to Sirius was another painful reminder of how Harry had lost the closest thing he'd had as a parent. It was the lost time that made Harry suffer more than anything else. He'd never been able to spend any lengthy amount of time with Sirius, first he'd been in Azakaban, and then he'd been an outlaw.

And now they were all here, right next to him, and he knew that it wasn't real, that it was just a dream, but it felt real, and that's really what mattered most. There was so much that he wanted to say, so many questions that he wanted to ask, but he couldn't seem to voice any of them.

Lily smiled at him, a warm smile that Harry could practically feel. "We know, Harry," she said simply.

Harry felt a surge of relief. He was reminded of his earlier thirst, and eagerly took a sip of tea, the liquid warm soothing as it slid down his throat. He set his mug down, a little disconcerted to see all three adults staring at him.

"I, uh… I have a girlfriend," Harry shared, feeling like he had to say something.

Sirius sighed. "It's not that Chang girl, is it?"

Harry just shook his head, wondering why he'd brought it up in the first place. Then, it hit him. He'd needed, wanted, to share the news with people that would care and be genuinely happy for him. Telling his parents and godfather suddenly seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

"Hermione," he said quietly, watching Sirius for a reaction.

Something in Sirius' eyes flickered and he broke out into a radiant grin. "Well, I'm glad that you finally woke up and realized what was right in front of you."

Harry grinned back. "Yeah, things have been… well, downright difficult, actually. Ron's been mad with jealousy, though I think he's beginning to work through that. We broke up for a while… but that didn't really work out too well. Then Voldemort possessed me and… you probably don't really want to hear about that," he added hastily.

"Tell us about her," Lily prompted soothingly.

"I, err… okay," Harry said. "She's really bright, the brightest witch in our grade, at least. She's Muggle born, but she knows loads more about the Wizarding world than I do-probably more than Ron does. She's read Hogwarts: A History at least a thousand times. She's very proactive, she created an organization for the treatment of elves named S.P.E.W. She's…" Harry trailed off. "She's my best friend, but she's… she's so much more than that, really."

Lily and James exchanged a look. "This is really quite sickening," James said lightly. "I think you might be drooling, Harry."

Harry blushed and stared very hard at the table.

"Come off it, James," Sirius said, sounding a little gruff. "The way you used to trail around after Lily…"

Lily's eyes twinkled. "Was there trailing, Harry?"

"No," Harry said, blush increasing. "It just sort of… happened."

"Well, she sounds like a wonderful girl," his mother continued, smiling, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I wish we could've met her."

Harry felt a lump lodge in his throat. He nodded. "Me, too."

"Harry, you know," Sirius said, quietly. "You don't have a lot of time. Do you know where you're going yet?"

Harry just shook his head, feeling miserable. He could feel the warm tea settling in his stomach, making him feel tired and lethargic. He'd already gone so far, he didn't want to continue. He didn't want to leave…

"Can't I stay here?" Harry found himself pleading, a desperate tone to his voice. "Can't I just… sit here? With you?"

"Harry," his father said quietly. "You know that's not possible."

"Why not?" he burst out furiously. "I know this isn't real! I know this is all figment of my imagination! But you know what? I don't care! I don't want to go down that stupid path where I'm alone and…" Harry trailed off, feeling the sudden burst of emotion leave him. "And I don't know where I'm going."

"Oh, Harry," his mother said, sounding emotional. "I know… but you must. You can't stay here with us, much as we want you to."

Harry wiped at his eyes. "It's not fair. It's not… it's that damn prophecy. You all died because of some bloody prophecy! You all died because of-"

"What, Harry?" Sirius said sharply.

Harry stared down at his hands. "Because of me."

Harry expected them to deny it. He expected them to tell him that he shouldn't blame himself. He expected them to say that they'd been fighting a war-that it had nothing to do with him.

So, naturally, he gave a jump of surprise when his father banged a fist on the table. The cups of tea rattled dangerously, the biscuits slid off the plate. Harry stared at him, taken aback.

"You're damn right we died because of you," he practically growled. "And we'd do it again in a second. That's what being a parent means, Harry. It means doing anything to keep your child safe."

Harry blinked rapidly, feeling his heart flutter in his chest.

"That's what love is, Harry," his mother said gently. "You musn't blame yourself. All three of us knew what we were doing."

"My only regret is that I abandoned you," Sirius said softly. "Again."

"Shush, Sirius," Lily said. "You did the best you could, given the circumstances."

"We're proud of you, Harry," his father said. "Every day. Don't ever forget that."

"I… uh…" Harry stuttered, overcome with too much emotion to put into words. He stood up. "Thank you."

The three of them smiled at him and Harry backed away slowly, watching as they continued to wave at him until he made his way back to the path. Once there, he turned, planning on running, when he ran smack into someone.

Harry took a step backwards, feeling slightly dizzy, to find that he'd collided with Ron.

Ron shot him a disgruntled look and rubbed at his forehead. "Bloody hell, Harry. Watch where you're going."

Harry blinked at him. "Ron? What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you. I was almost ready to give up, too, when you came flying out of the woods like a bat out of hell."

Harry, reminded about why he was so desperate to get moving, started jogging, eager to get away from the ghosts of his parents and his godfather. Ron followed him, matching his pace easily.

"Ron," Harry said slowly. "I thought you were too busy practicing for Quidditch."

Ron flashed an easy grin. "C'mon, Harry! Quidditch practice doesn't go on forever, you know. I would've been here earlier, but Seamus and Dean distracted me."

"Oh," Harry answered. "How's their chess game going?"

Ron frowned. "I dunno, Harry. I don't reckon they really knew what they were doing. I had to make every move for them, and it wasn't much fun, playing against myself. I kept winning and losing at the same time. It was very confusing."

Harry slowed his pace, beginning to get out of breath. "Ron, what are you really doing here?"

Ron shot him a disgruntled look. "I thought that was obvious. I promised to stand beside you, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah…" Harry replied, frowning. "But…"

Ron clapped him on the back and Harry had to beeline forward to prevent his glasses from falling off. "Harry, you needed me. So I came. Just accept it. Remember, this is your dream."

"Yeah, I know that," Harry said, with some frustration. "But it's really quite a strange dream, wouldn't you say?"

Ron snorted. "Harry, this is your head… of course it's a strange dream."

Harry frowned at him as they continued on, walking side by side. "I ran into Dumbledore and Dobby earlier. Dumbledore gave me some odd advice."

Ron grunted. "Dumbledore? Give odd advice? Whatever would give you that idea?"

"He said… he said that I had to `look inside myself.' That… that's how I was supposed to defeat Voldemort."

Ron shook his head in disgust. "What kind of a crap advice is that?"

Harry nodded, feeling grateful for Ron's reaction. "Yeah, it was kind of odd."

"Odd?" Ron snorted. "It's… it's giving non-advice, is what it is! You know, Harry… I think it's Trewlaney advice. No matter what, you can always tell someone to look inside themselves. Oh, having girl problems, are you? Well, look inside yourself for the answer."

Harry snickered. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Completely mad Dumbledore is. Great wizard, but completely mad."

Harry sighed. "I just wish he would give me some real answers for once."

"Has it ever occurred to you that Dumbledore might not have any of the answers you're looking for?" Ron shrugged faintly. "After all, he really is only human."

Harry pondered that quietly for a moment. "Yeah, but… if Dumbledore doesn't have the answers… then who does?"

"Dunno." Ron thought a moment before grinning cheekily. "Have you tried looking inside yourself?"

"You were more help when you were riding your broomstick backwards," Harry muttered.

Ron snorted. "C'mon, Harry. You're just jealous. Did you see how happy it made Luna?"

"Uh huh," Harry responded noncommittally.

"So…" Ron said slowly, looking eager to change the subject. "Have you found Hermione yet?"

"No. But I haven't really been looking for her. Why?" he asked, somewhat suspicious. "Have you seen her?"

Ron stared at him, an unreadable look in his eyes. "Well… that's a bit strange, don't you think?"

"Strange?" Harry repeated, feeling his stomach bottom out. "Why would that be strange?"

"Well…" Ron continued, looking hesitant. "It's just that… this is your dream, after all."

"So?" Harry prodded, beginning to feel a little weary. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh. No reason," Ron answered vaguely.

Harry huffed out a breath. "Ron, spit it out, will you?"

Ron let out a long, drawn out sigh. "Since, as we've already been over, this is your head and Hermione's the `great love of you life' or whatever the bleeding hell you two are labeling it as, don't you think you'd have put her in here already?"

Harry shifted, feeling tendrils of worry. "I guess…"

"I'm just pointing that out, is all," Ron said, continuing on. "I'm sure everything is fine."

"Maybe she's in trouble," Harry said, hurrying after him. Then a much more disturbing thought hit him. "Maybe she's mad at me."

"Maybe."

Harry scowled. "No, that can't be right. I haven't done anything really stupid recently."

"Maybe you don't need her yet," Ron said.

"No," Harry protested. "I always need her."

Ron made a slight gagging sound in the back of his throat that caused Harry to stop and glare at him. "You're disgusting, you know that?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I need you, too," he snapped. "You and Hermione both. When are you ever going to get that through your thick head?"

That was, of course, the moment that Ron stopped dead in his tracks. "Sorry, Harry," he said. "I have to go."

Harry blinked at him. "What d'you mean? I thought you were going to stay with me until the very end…"

Ron shook his head. "No… I have… I have to go. Sorry."

"But… Ron!" Harry said. "Why now?"

"Hagrid," Ron said. "He needs help with all that wood. I've left him alone too long."

"Oh," Harry answered, feeling an emptiness creep over him. "Well, I'd hate for Hagrid to be alone…"

Ron grunted. "Harry, one more thing… I'm supposed to tell you…"

Harry looked at him. "Yeah… what is it?"

"We're serving our detention next week."

Harry frowned. "Detention?"

"Well, yeah. We still owe a week's worth of detention. You didn't honestly believe that McGonagall would just forget about it, did you?"

"What detention?" Harry demanded.

Ron just stared at him. "You know, our… duel. You might be repressing, which I can certainly understand. We were yelling at each other, and the next thing we knew, I sent you flying across the room."

Harry absentmindedly rubbed the back of his head. "Oh… yeah…" he said weakly. "I'd forgotten about that."

Ron grinned, looking pleased with himself. "Don't worry, I haven't. That's, what, twice now that I've gotten the upper hand in a fight?"

Now Harry's hand absently strayed to his cheek, which felt oddly sore all of a sudden. "I let you…"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Harry. By the way, did I ever apologize for punching you?"

"No," Harry answered immediately. "But I hardly think that you need to-"

"Okay," Ron cut in. "Because I'm not planning on it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Still working through those jealousy issues?"

Ron flashed him a grin. "You bet."

"Don't go," Harry said suddenly. "I know Hagrid needs you, but so do I…"

Ron watched his face in sympathy before pointing ahead of him. Harry followed the direction of his finger, surprised to see the path end abruptly at the entrance to a large meadow. Harry could make out a lone figure sitting on a rock beside the tip of the path.

"I think you found her," Ron said with a small, sad smile. "You don't need me anymore, Harry. "

Harry was about to protest, he did need Ron, but before he could make a sound Ron was gone. Harry stared stupidly at the spot that he'd been only moments ago, before continuing along the path, his eyes on the figure he was quickly approaching.

He studied her as he approached, feeling a rush of relief to know that he'd found her. It had been stupid of him to doubt it-of course he'd find her. Of course she wouldn't let him go without saying good-bye. And it made sense, didn't it, that she'd be the last one he would find?

He stopped in front of her, breathing hard. She was sitting sedately on a rock, her legs curled up under her. On her lap were several open books and a long, thin piece of parchment. She was chewing nervously on the tip of her quill as she stared pensively down at her books.

The sight was so familiar to Harry that he couldn't help but smile at her. "Hermione," he greeted quietly.

She glanced up at him, eyes searching him appraisingly as she did so. She removed the quill from her mouth and smiled. "Harry," she said. "You made it."

Harry glanced at the meadow stretching out before them. "I guess so…" he said doubtfully. Staring at the meadow filled him a deep feeling of unease.

Hermione turned her attention back to her books. "Lots to do…" she muttered. "Not very much time left to do it in."

"Hermione," he said slowly. "What… what are you doing?"

She rolled her eyes and didn't bother to look up at him. "Studying, of course. What does it look like I'm doing?"

Harry stared at her. "Why are you studying now? Don't you think… don't you think there might be more important things to do?"

She just shook her head. "Harry," she said, her voice resigned. "How many times to I have to tell you? I'm weeks ahead of what we're doing in class…"

"Then why are you studying?" Harry asked sharply. "Don't you think that now really isn't the best time?"

She looked up, shooting him an annoyed look a she did so. "I'm doing this for you!" she declared. "You know, Harry, N.E.W.T.'s are only a year away! You have to be prepared!"

"Only a year away…" Harry repeated. "Only a year away? Don't get me wrong, Hermione, N.E.W.T.'s are important and all, but I hardly think that I have to start studying this very instant…"

She glared at him. "You know," she said snippily. "You could be a little more grateful for all the help I've given you."

"I am grateful," Harry said. "You're the only reason that I'm going to be coming back to Hogwarts next year, you know that. I just don't understand why I have to start studying for N.E.W.T.'s now!"

"I'm just trying to make sure you'll be prepared!" she said shrilly. "I want you to know everything that you have to know! I need to know that I've done everything I can to help you!"

"I… okay…" Harry said, rather lamely, not sure what he was supposed to say to that.

Hermione sniffled and turned her attention back down to her books. "I'm making up a schedule for you…"

Harry couldn't help himself. "Another schedule? Hermione…" he dropped his voice. "Don't you think that perhaps you're overdoing it a little?"

She stood up suddenly, the books spilling off her lap and landing with a dull thud on the ground. She stared up at him, her chin hefted and her eyes wide and furious. "Fine," she said coolly. "If you don't want my help, then I'm not going to give it to you."

"I do want your help!" Harry yelled. "I just don't need help studying for my N.E.W.T.'s! My N.E.W.T.'s which are a year away!"

"Well, good!" she hissed angrily. "Because I don't want to help you, anyway!"

Harry stared at her, beginning to get angry himself. "Whatever," he snapped, backing away. "Forget it. I'll just…"

Harry turned, planning on going into the meadow, like he was supposed to. He stared. The darkness was beginning to creep down on it, making the meadow look dark and sinister. Harry's stomach gave a small lurch of fear. He whirled back around, surprised to see that Hermione's eyes were wide and shinning.

"Harry," she whispered, shaking a little. "Don't go… you're not ready yet…"

"I…" Harry swallowed stiffly. "Hermione, I need your help."

"I've been trying to help you!" she burst out, her voice taking on a panicked tone. She gestured to the books lying in the mud at her feet. "What do you think all this was for?"

"Hermione…" Harry said, a little desperately. "You don't… I don't need help studying!"

Hermione stared helplessly down at her books. "How else am I supposed to help you, Harry?"

Harry stared at her, wondering how to make her understand. Finally, in a quiet voice he said, "There are more important things than books and cleverness."

She took a breath and took a startled step backwards. "Like what?" she asked softly.

"Like…" Harry whispered, moving closer to her. "Like friendship and bravery and…"

"And love," Hermione finished for him. She looked up, meeting his eyes. "Oh, Harry… and love..."

Harry reached her and stopped. He held out his arms and she sunk against him, letting out a pathetic sniffle as she did so.

"Don't go," she pleaded again. "You're not ready yet…"

She pressed her face to his neck, her arms tightening painfully around him. "I… I have to…" he said. "But… Hermione, this isn't real. I'm just dreaming. I have to be dreaming. Stuff that happened… it wouldn't be possible, otherwise."

"What do you mean?" she asked, tilting her face up to meet his eyes.

"Well…" Harry said hesitantly. "I saw my parents. And Sirius."

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, my. That must have been… do you want to talk about it?"

Harry just shook his head. "Not really. Not now, at least."

"Harry?"

Harry frowned down at her, disturbed by the way her voice was trembling. "What is it?"

"Well… it's just that… please don't die. I don't think I could stand it, if you did."

"I'm not going to…" Harry trailed off, incredulous. "This is just a dream, Hermione. I can't die in a dream."

She let out a long breath. "Oh, I suppose not. But I don't just mean…" she stopped, swallowing heavily. "You know what I mean."

Harry tilted her chin up so he could look her in the eyes. "No," he said, his voice sharp. "I don't know what you mean. I'm not going to die. We've been over this, Hermione. Remember? I'm the Boy Who Lived. I'm not going to die. You were the one who told me that."

"Yes… but…" her voice quivered, and she stared up at him. "Well, we don't really know that for sure…"

"No, we don't," Harry snapped, pulling away from her. "Thanks for the reminder. That's exactly what I needed to hear."

Her eyes grew large and she shook her head vigorously. "I didn't mean it like that…" she said, wringing her hands. "I just… where are you going?"

Harry nodded his head in the direction of the meadow. "I'm running out of time," he said bitterly. "I have to go face this thing."

"Oh," she said, sounding even more upset. "Harry… wait…." She reached his side and grabbed his arm. "I'll go with you."

Harry stopped and slowly turned around to face her. "No," he said flatly. "I have to do this alone."

She let out a little cry of frustration. "No, you don't! I'm coming with you!"

Harry shook his head. "It's just a dream, Hermione," he said, though he wasn't sure which of them he was trying to convince. "I think… I think this is something I have to do alone."

She took a step back, hands fluttering nervously near her face. "Okay…" she said, looking like it was far from being okay. "If you're sure about this…"

"I'm not sure," he said in a tight voice. "But I don't… I don't want to risk losing you."

Her eyes glistened. "Well, I don't want to lose you, either."

"You won't," Harry said, continuing on. He was about to step into the meadow when Hermione grabbed his arm again. He whirled around, more than a little bit on edge. "What?" he demanded. "What now?"

She blinked and took a step back, chewing her lip nervously. "I just…" her eyes filled with tears. "Be careful," she whispered.

Harry met her eyes. "Is that all?"

She shook her head. "No," she whispered again. "I… I love you."

Harry stared at her a moment before leaning forward and crushing his mouth to hers. Her arms curled around his neck, clinging to him as they kissed.

"That's the sixth time," Harry said softly, as he pulled away.

She looked a little dazed. "What… what are you talking about?"

"That you've said it," Harry answered, smiling. "That's the sixth time."

"You've been keeping count?" she questioned, eyes glinting a little in amusement. "How many times have you said it?"

"You know…" Harry said slowly. "I'm not really sure. More than you, anyway."

"I love you," she said again. "Now what am I at?"

"Seven," Harry said. "I'm still winning, though."

Hermione just shook her head. "Boys-it's always a competition with you." They shared a fond smile before Hermione continued. "You need to go, Harry. You're running out of time."

"I really wish people would stop saying that," Harry grumbled, backing slowly away from her. "Hermione?"

She watched him with deep worry as he took one step onto the meadow. "Yes?"

"I love you, too," he said, turning.

Harry held on to that thought as he crossed the path and entered the meadow.

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