Take Me Away

Twisted Anjel

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 25/09/2004
Last Updated: 17/10/2004
Status: in_progress

"He left me. When everyone was gone, when all we had was each other, he ran the other way. "

Chapters

1. Insane

2. Burning On The Inside

3. Don't Look Back

1. Insane

Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter universe, I would not be writing on a computer that is too slow and a desk chair that is broken. So, with that said, please don't sue me. : ) Also, the song lyrics are by Avril Lavigne "Take Me Away" ... So don't sue me for that either.

Summary: "He left me. When everyone was gone, when all we had was each other, he ran the other way. "

Author's Note: It's me again. This is going to be a chapter fic that I thought of abruptly. It is very angsty and dark so I'm warning you now. I'm still working on Forever Angel, haven't forgotten about it : ) Anyway, just wanted to start on another project. Hope you enjoy and please leave me your comments in the form of reviews. Thanks.

:: Anjel ::

Take Me Away - “Insane”

I cannot find a way to describe it

It's there inside; all I do is hide

I wish that it would just go away

What would you do, you do, if you knew

What would you do?

Life hasn't been easy. When you're left alone to wonder what went wrong, how everything was pulled from under you, you tend to go crazy. Crazy enough to land you at St. Mungos in the mental ward where the only thing you have for company is the guard who patrols your hall, and even he thinks you're too crazy to be listened to.

Being stuck in a room with four padded walls and no window to let you know what time of day it is makes you more insane than you were to begin with. That is, if you were crazy to begin with. Many of the people here are really clinically insane but there are those who were not to begin with, who definitely are now. I think I'm the only one who wasn't actually insane to begin with and I'm still not. But that doesn't seem to make a difference. People won't listen to you if they think you're 'crazy'.

It's lonely here, to say the least. Lonely and scary. To be honest, I don't know how I've kept myself from going insane. This place can make everyone lose a few marbles. At night, when the lights are shut off (whether you want them off or not) is the worst time. Screaming and groans echo throughout the deserted hallways and they bounce off my walls. The torture these people have been through seep through them and out through their screams of horror and moans of pain and longing. They see things in their sleep none of us could even imagine. Poor, tortured souls who only want to feel normal, in a place where they are considered anything but.

Sleep blocks the cries out but it is not a sanctuary for me. Scenes from a year ago flash through my mind, over and over again, playing themselves out and leaving new bruises each night. Nightmares so real and intense wake me every night in a cold sweat with my lungs hitching for air. I can't stop them when they get bad, I can't make them go away, all I can do is wait until they play themselves out and finally let me wake up.

I don't scream, I don't cry. Maybe that's why everyone thinks there is something wrong with me; because I show no emotion. A face devoid of any expression but a blank one. They want to see me show some feeling like a normal human being but how can I? Have they gone through what I have? Were they left completely alone, was their life turned upside down and inside out until they didn't know who they were and what they were doing?

Did they lose everything? No, of course not. So how can they possibly understand? Any of them? They think I'm hiding something. What, I don't know. All I know is that all I feel is pain, sometimes just plain emptiness, which is better than pain. I feel betrayed and abandoned. Do you blame me?

He left me. When everyone was gone, when all we had was each other, he ran the other way. I was left alone, to grieve and cry and think alone. I never stop thinking about him. How can I? I haven't seen him in almost two years, two lonely, cold years. All I feel is anger when I think of him, there is no more love. I'm beginning to believe there never was; on his part anyway.

Now, sitting on my lumpy, narrow bed, I laugh. A laugh that comes out bitter and sour, funny and sad. It's ironic, really. All his life he felt apart from the rest. I spent years reassuring him it was okay to be different, that's what made him so special, but he never believed me. Now, who's the one who is left out? Who is far from being normal? Is he here to comfort me? Is anyone here?

I wonder what he would say if he saw me like this, in here. How he would look at me. What he would do. I guess it doesn't really matter, right? I'm stuck in here, going through an existence no one deserves to have, and he's out there, somewhere, free.

Free. The word itself is very misleading. No one is ever free, complete freedom is not possible. Countless of people have died for that one word. Have died for something that can never really be. I thought I was free, to make my own decisions, learn what I want, see what I want, hear what I want. Love who I want. Now, I have no freedom. I haven't seen the outside of this ward in a year, haven't seen raindrops falling from a sky crowded with black clouds. I haven't seen the sun shining down on people hurrying to their next destination, oblivious to everyone and everything around them.

I used to be one of them, taking advantage of the weather and the sky, and everything put there for our own pleasure. Now I would cut off an arm just to spend one minute outside, in the fresh air. A minute to feel like myself again.

That's a funny though, isn't it? A minute to feel like myself. Who am I? I know who I was before all this happened, but I don't have a clue who I am now. Do I even want to go back to who I was before? I don't want to be who I am now, but I definitely don't want to be the same person I was before. A person who believed in love and dreams, in courage and good. I am stronger now; I won't be disillusioned into thinking all that stuff actually exists. Not anymore.

A key is rattling in the lock of my door. Someone is stepping into the cage they keep me in, white shoes are squeaking on the linoleum floor. Not another nurse with the fake smile and mocking eyes. Not another person who only sees me as a sticking pin for needles, someone who's brain doesn't quite work right.

The nurse steps up to my bed and I look up at her, knowing what a fright I must look. I don't care. She has that smile pasted on her red lips, the keys hanging limply in one hand. She brings a hand down to pat my shoulder and I try not to flinch. "What is it?" I ask, looking down at the spotless white floor.

"You have a visitor, Hermione," she says, her voice high-pitched, pity laced in with disgust. "Isn't that nice? Now come on, you must not keep them waiting."

I want to throw up, lay back down and fake illness. Oh wait, I can't do that here. Here I'm sick every second of every minute, every day of every week, and every week of every month. Here, I am never well. "Who is it?" I know who it is, she is the only one who comes but I ask anyway. I don't want to see her today; I can't handle the small talk and the pity in her eyes.

"Molly Weasley. Now come on, don't be rude," she replies briskly, turning away and heading to the door, glancing back at me to make sure I'm following.

I raise myself as the bed creaks. I follow her to the door, the conversation I'm about to have with Mrs. Weasley already running through my head. It's the same every week. The door slams shut behind me and I stare down the long corridor, with its doors on each side.

This is my life, one endless slamming of doors.

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2. Burning On The Inside

Author's Note: Like I said, this fic is very dark. To be honest, I've never written anything like this before and I don't know what gave me the idea to do it now. I just hope that it's different from the other stories out there and that you guys like it anyway. It won't always be like this, trust me, but I don't want to give away too much so soon. Please stick with me. And let me know what you think : ) A BIG THANKS to all of you who reviewed .... It means a lot.

:: Anjel ::

Take Me Away -- "Burning On The Inside”

I feel like I am all alone
All by myself I need to get around it
My words are cold, I don't want them to hurt you
If I show you, I don't think you'd understand

'Cause no one understands.

I don't think I can handle this much longer. My hand feels sweaty and all I want to do is slip it from under hers. She doesn't quite look me full in the face; her eyes are always darting around the small room, at her hands, above my head, over my shoulder, but never at my eyes. Is she afraid at what she'll see? I probably would be too.

"How have you been feeling, Hermione, dear?" Molly asks, daring a small look at my face before averting her gaze.

I want to scream at her, "How do you think I'm feeling? I'm locked in a bloody mental ward!" but all I say is, "Better, thank you," with a fake smile pasted on my face.

She nods in approval and pats my hand absentmindedly. "That's good. That's very good."

I watch her play with the sleeves of her tattered blue robe with her free hand, then as she moves on to pat down her hair. She is preoccupied and I realize that she doesn't want to be here either. I try to squash down the swell of anger I feel at this thought. I don't blame her.

"Mrs. Weasley? Are you all right?" I ask, mentally telling her to just go away like she wants to. To leave me like everyone else did.

"Hmm? Oh yes, dear. I'm just fine," she tells me, still not quite looking at me. I want to pull her face into my hands and force her to stare me straight in the eyes. I want her to pull me into a hug, to feel her arms around me. I want her to tell me everything will be okay, that she knows I'm not crazy. I want to laugh at such thoughts. None of that is possible. Nothing is possible anymore.

"How is Mr. Weasley?" I ask just to get the conversation flowing, just to show the people watching us that I can carry a conversation, that I am a human being.

"Oh, he's doing well. He wanted me to tell you hello. He misses you too, you know."

I choke on a snort, Mrs. Weasley sending me a worried glance. "Well, tell him hello back. I miss him too." If he misses me so much than why hasn't he come to see me? Not even once.

She mistakes my sarcastic remark for preoccupation. "Something on your mind, Hermione?" she asks, her eyes fixed on my forehead.

I can feel the words hot on my tongue and before I can stop myself, I speak my mind. "Something on my mind? Oh no, how can there be? I'm crazy, remember? I'm not capable of intelligent thought."

Her face pales and for a moment I'm afraid she's going to faint. Her hand rises from mine and moves to her heart. "Hermione! Don't call yourself that!" she cries, tears laced into her voice.

"Why not? It's true, isn't it?" I'm almost shouting now. "Tell me, Mrs. Weasley, why won't you look at me?" I wasn't planning on asking her this, but I was on a roll, pushed by anger.

"What on earth are you talking about?" She is still not looking at me. "I'm looking at you right now, aren't I?"

"No, you're not! You won't look me in the eyes! Every week it's the same thing, every week you ask how I'm feeling, we make small talk, ask about the weather, and not once do you look at me, really look at me. Why is that, Mrs. Weasley? Are you afraid of what you'll see?" I was standing now, shouting at the top of my lungs. I could see guards rushing in, a nurse following with a needle in hand.

Mrs. Weasley's face has gone completely white, her eyes large. She doesn't offer an explanation, only watches in horror as the guards overtake me, holding onto my arms with a grip tight enough to bruise. It's okay though, the bruises on my arms will match the one on my heart.

The nurse comes up and I want to cry. Not another needle, not more medicine. Please ... I feel it going through my system, I'm calming down. I relax into their arms and they slowly drag me away. I turn my head to look at Mrs. Weasley.

I know that the look on her face will haunt me for the rest of my life, among other things. Her lips are moving but no words are coming out. She feels me looking at her and in that moment, she catches my eyes, really looks at me. Tears spill down her cheeks and before I'm whisked out the door, I see her lips form the words, "I'm sorry."

...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...

Lying on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, I fight the sleep that is trying to consume me. My eyes are drooping closed and I snap them open again, only to repeat the process seconds later. This happens every night; every bloody night.

I turn over on my side, placing my hand underneath my head, the other one close to my heart. I can feel it beating but its rhythm is off. A sound of desperation. The cries of the other patients have started. I hear tears and anger in their voices. Rejection and desperation. I also hear happiness in some, but I know that won't last, not when they wake up and remember where they are.

I finally let my eyes close shut, only to see his face in front of mine. His eyes are staring intently into mine and his mouth is curled into a smile. His arm lifts up, held out in front of him, beckoning me to him. "Come on," he says, but his mouth isn't moving. I'm surprised to find Hogwarts castle standing majestically behind him, welcoming and foreboding all at once. The thought that that castle no longer exists and what is it doing all in one piece runs through my mind but when he turns around the thought disappears. He walks towards the castle, looking over his shoulder at me and smiling, until he's standing on the steps. "Come on," he repeats again, his voice vibrating through my head.

I take a step forward and when I do, the castle suddenly bursts into flames. I stop dead in my tracks and try to call out to him, the flames licking the hem of his dark green robes. His arm is still outstretched, smile still in place. The fire has reduced the castle to ashes, covering him at a rapid speed. I try to scream, try to move, but I can't, I feel glued to the ground.

His face is all that is left and I feel myself falling. His green eyes are left, staring at me, beckoning me forward, until he's gone and I'm falling through empty space...

"HARRY!" His name is ripped from my throat and it's not until I'm sitting up that I realize I screamed it. I'm soaking through my clothes and my hair is plastered to my face. My heart is racing, pounding against my chest. My fists are curled around the sheets, my knuckles white.

What was that? My nightmares have never been so bizarre, so unreal. I shake my head and something small and wet falls into my lap. A tear drop. Many more are following its path, running down my cheek, falling past my chin. I raise a hand and wipe them away, bringing my fingers to my lips.

Tears. I haven't cried in a year. A year. My breath is hitching and I know I can't stop. Soon, it turns to sobs, sobs that melt in with the rest of the people in here. Am I officially one of them now? Or was I one of them from the beginning?

...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...

I let the water fall over me, watching as it hits the ground, swirls around the drain, and disappears. I wish it would do that to me. Wash me away. My eyes roam the large room, at the other girls taking showers, wondering what's going through their heads. Maybe I don't want to know, I shouldn't know. I don't even know what's going through mine.

I turn away from them and let the hot water splash over my face. I run my fingers through my short hair, the hair they cut when I was admitted. I fought them on that one. My hair had been long because I had been letting it grow since I started Hogwarts, almost up to my waist. It had finally grown out of its bushiness, falling in curly tendrils down my back. I loved my hair, almost the only part I loved. Don't mistake me; I had never put much stock in my looks. I only loved my hair so much because he loved it.

We used to sit for ours on the velvet couch in the Common Room, my head in his lap or vice versa, and he would pull out the band that would hold my hair up and just run his fingers through my hair, scraping across my scalp gently. I close my eyes and I can feel my fingers sliding through his hair, silky strands slipping through.

"Time's up!" A rough voice cuts through one of my happy memories and my eyes jolt open. The water stops running and towels are thrown at us. We're herded out the gates like cattle and back to our rooms. I keep my head down, eyes glued to the ground. Some of the women have tried to have a conversation with me but I never really contributed, so they let me be.

That's funny. The people deemed unworthy of being treated like human beings know when to leave you alone, yet those who believe they're above you don't know how to do such a thing. They poke and prod, try to get into your thoughts and analyze you. They write in their notebooks and give you permission to smile, cry, eat, and sleep. They love to feel as if they are controlling you.

I'm handed my robes as I'm ushered into my room, after being reminded that breakfast is in an hour. My stomach growls in acknowledgement but I ignore it. I'm not hungry, not for food anyway. I dress quickly, the room cold, and run the towel through my hair before it's whisked away, the nurses afraid I might hurt myself with it. Here, everything is a weapon. Too bad the professionals don't know that they are the biggest weapons. They are the only ones hurting us.

I sit on the edge of my bed and stare at the wall, the dream of last night running through my head. I don't believe in dreams, I never have, really, but this one irks me. It's almost a bad omen, but look where I am, what more can happen? I shake it off and lay down, exhaustion overpowering me. I'm tired, tired of everything. My life has turned into something I don't even recognize, something completely unbelievable. Is this my fate? My destiny? Why am I hated then?

My eyes close of their own accord but I don't fall asleep. I can't. I don't want to. I have no where to go where I can think, relax, just get away. Awake, I'm trapped. Asleep, I'm trapped. I'm stuck in a world where no one believes me, where I run in circles trying to find a corner to retreat to.

"Breakfast time!" rings through the hall and my door is opened. I'm ushered to the hall and ordered to eat something that looks anything but edible. I take my tray to the farthest corner and sit alone, head down, eyes forecast. I poke my plastic fork into the mush called macaroni and cheese and I feel my stomach churning with disgust. How long has it been since I've eaten real food? I can't even remember.

Something pokes me in the back and I turn around to find a female guard poking her wand into my back. "Eat," she commands, speaking as if I didn't know English.

"I'm not hungry," I dare to mumble, knowing here you are forced to eat or go without food for days.

Her face transforms into a scowl and I try to stifle a laugh when I realize she looks very much like a man. No wonder she's in here. "You will eat," she says again, her wand poking into my back with more force.

"I'm not hungry!" I cry, my anger surprising even myself. I have stood up now, facing her. I am at least a head taller than her but she stands up straighter, wand held at my heart.

"It is not wise to defy me, you know," she sneers, pressing her wand into my chest. I stare at the stick of wood, a sudden longing for my own wand engulfing me. They split it in two when I was admitted here; I haven't seen it ever since.

I don't answer, only keep my ground. I know what this will cost me but somehow I don't care. I just don't care. What's the point?

She growls at my defiance and before I can move yells out, "Stupefy!" I'm suddenly frozen, only my eyes can move. She gives me a nasty grin and moves around me to pick up the tray of discarded road kill. "You won't eat willingly then I will force you." She picks up the fork and stabs a couple of macaroni; the sound of it splitting from the mush sends bile to my throat. She then brings the fork to my lips and forces it through, cheese slipping down my chin. "Swallow!" she yells, everyone now staring at us. The guards roaming the rest of the room have stopped and are now laughing at my expense. The patients are just staring at me, their eyes full of sympathy.

I don't swallow until she jams more macaroni on the fork and pushes it into my mouth. I have to swallow or choke, which I do anyway. She laughs, throwing the fork down and bringing her wand to my face. I stare at her face, the eyes that are a cold blue and wonder what she must have gone through to be so cold-hearted. Instead of hexing me, she releases the spell and I drop to the ground.

"That should teach you," she barks, kicking me in the stomach as she passes by, her black boots pounding on the ground. I don't show any pain. The best way to get them, I've found, is to act like they haven't hurt you, haven't humiliated you and degraded you. I slowly get up, dust off my robes and pick up the tray. I keep my eyes averted as I throw the tray in the trash and walk out of the cafeteria, the only reason the nurse at the door letting me pass because I have a session with Dr. Fellings.

Joy.

...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...

"We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

I stare at the small man sitting in front of me, being dwarfed by his own desk and want to laugh. The hard way? Give me your best shot!

"Whatever."

Dr. Kyan Fellings leans forward and sighs, his glasses slipping down his nose. "You want to tell me what happened the other day? Why you tried to attack your visitor?" he asks instead, not bothering to tell me what would be the hard way. Either way, it's torture.

"Attack? Who attacked?" I ask, leaning back in my chair and stare at him with a blank expression. In my opinion, this man who is called a doctor doesn't deserve the title. Doctors help people, try to find a solution, then help them cure whatever they have. This man, this pathetic excuse for a doctor, is only trying to get into my head to get paid. I'm not human to him; I'm just a way to get money.

"Miss Granger, you attacked Molly Weasley, isn't that right?"

I shrug. "Does it matter if it's right or not? You won't believe me anyway."

"That is not true," he says, almost defiantly.

I shrug again. "Whatever."

He lets out another frustrated sigh, his chair creaking as he sits back. "Do you know why you're in here, Hermione?" he finally asks me, giving me a look that clearly states "Because you're insufficient at behaving like a normal person."

"Why don't you tell me, Dr. Fellings? Because I, for one, don't have the slightest idea."

"I think you do."

I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest,”I do not. But, since you know everything, I'm sure you have the answer."

From the corner of my eye I see him trying to control his anger. If these sessions weren't so useless I would find them fun. Ron would be proud of the way I treat this wannabe doctor. Ron. This thought catches me off guard and I have to slow my breathing. His name, even inside my own head, causes pain so sharp running through my blood. His blue eyes and red hair are floating in my mind and I know if he were still alive, he would have done everything in his power to make sure I stayed out of this place.

"Hermione Granger crazy? Are bleeding serious? I mean, sure she becomes a bit mental when it comes to homework, but Hogwarts' most clever witch is NOT insane! I really think you are for assuming such a thing ..."

"Hermione. Hermione!"

I realize tears are gathered in my eyes and I berate myself for showing such emotion. Dr. Fellings has noticed and I can tell his interest is peaked. "Where were you just then?" he asks me, not in a concerned curious way, but in a way he thinks he could get through to me and then finally rid of me all together.

"No where," I respond, angry with myself.

"Yes you were. What were you thinking about?" He's leaning forward again, his beady brown eyes staring at me. I have the sudden urge to punch him.

"Is it really your business?" I snap, glaring at him for all I am worth.

A smirk settles on his mouth. "As a matter of fact, Hermione, it is. How do you expect to get better if you won't cooperate with us?"

I snort unattractively. "Get better? Locking me up like some animal, poking me with needles, trying to analyze every bloody thing I do, is going to make me better? Let me help you, Dr. Fellings, by giving you a massive brain check. THAT IS NOT HELPING ME!"

And here come the guards rushing in, nurses with needles in hand. My anger subsides and I'm filled with a calm emptiness. Out I go again, Fellings shaking his head as if he really is disappointed by my outbreak. My eyes catch the picture sitting on his desk, him and a woman smiling at me from their perch on a white porch. Married? Who would marry someone like him? I find it funny that I'm thinking this while being dragged back to my room but come on. The poor woman must have been desperate.

Or crazy.

...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...

"How about you guys lay off the meds for awhile, okay?" I shout out as they push me inside my room. It's enough to get a person addicted. They ignore me and slam the door shut, the noise crashing through my head and making me wince.

I plop down on my bed and press my palms to my eyes, feeling a headache coming on. Along with that headache is a drowsiness that is an effect of the medicine they have given me. Before I can stop myself, I'm fast asleep, out of it, in a world where the past sinks in and consumes me. Real life nightmares remind me of what I've gone through, what I had, and what I lost.

Before the nightmares begin, however, I am being roughly shaken awake. I slowly open my eyes, coming face to face with a name tag sporting Katherine on it. "What?" I mumble, sitting up to look at the impatient nurse.

"You have a visitor," she says, not waiting for a reply before making her way to the door.

Another visitor? Two visitors in the span of three days is extremely rare, especially for me. As I walk out of the room, I conclude that the visitor must be Mrs. Weasley. Walking down the deserted corridor, Katherine the nurse in front of me and a guard behind me, my stomach gives a loud growl. I have missed lunch, not allowed to have any because of my behavior at breakfast. Why do I feel like a naughty little child?

"Now you behave yourself, understand? Any more outbursts and we will put in solitary." The word alone sends shivers down my back. I have never been there but I've heard others talking about it. It's in another part of the ward; they lock you in a cell and keep you in darkness day in and day out. The only company you have is your beating heart and that isn't much of a comfort.

They let me in the visitor's room and there is Molly Weasley, standing in the middle of the room with her hands locked in front of her. A wave of guilt hits me at the nervous look on her face. I go over to her and, noticing the guards tense up, I wrap my arms around her in a tight hug. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Weasley," I whisper in her ear, as her arms squeeze me tightly. The warm human contact shocks my system and I have to force the tears to retreat. I haven't been hugged like this is so long.

"No, Hermione, don't apologize. You were right." She pulls away and looks me full in the face. Her hands come up to frame my face. "You were right in everything. I was afraid of what I might see if I looked into your eyes but that did not give me the right to avoid your gaze. I'm sorry, so sorry. For all of this." Tears are crowding her eyes and I'm struggling to control my own composure.

"But," she continues, suddenly smiling, "everything is going to be okay. I brought someone with me and he's going to get you out."

"He?" I ask, surprised. "Who?" Even as I ask her eyes are staring at someone behind me. I turn around slowly and the person standing there sends me into a whirl of emotions and feelings. He's looking at me, in my eyes, and I don't see the usual uneasiness on his face like on the others. All I see is a profound apology. The last thing I see as blackness explodes inside of me is his eyes.

Harry.

...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...

A.N.2: Well, hoped you enjoyed that. Harry is in the picture now and Hermione has a lot more to go through. I hope you stick with me. I wanted to let you guys know that I am leaving for a cruise on Fri. and won't be back until the 12th of October so I won't be updating the next chapter obviously. I will try to get one out before I leave but that is a very slim chance. Please review and thanks to those who did!

-- Anjel

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3. Don't Look Back

A.N: Hey everyone! I'm back! I can't really say it's good to be back because I wish I had gotten lost on an island. School really does suck when you know you could be swimming in clear blue water instead of sitting in a hard desk listening to a teacher talk only because they love the sound of their own voice. Ugh. Okay, I had a lot of this chapter done before I left so I hurried to finish it for you guys. I re wrote it a lot because I wasn't quite sure where I was heading. I'm still not satisfied but I don't want to keep you all waiting too long : ) Also, I was thinking, instead of write the past in this story, to just write another fic dealing with the past only. I really doubt that made any sense but I hope you guys get my drift. Let me know if you want me to write out the past in this fic as memories or write another fic on it as present time. That didn't make any sense either. ANYWAY, let me know please! It's up to you guys.

Okay, now that I've babbled on for hours, on with the story!

Take Me Away - “Don't Look Back”

All the pain I thought I knew

All my thoughts lead back to you

Back to what was never said

Back and forth inside my head

I can't handle this confusion

I'm unable; come and take me away

It's a dream. That's it, I just fell asleep and I'm dreaming of Harry coming here, to see me, to get me out. Only a dream...

"Hermione?" I'm being shaken awake and I'm afraid to open my eyes, just in case I'm dreaming and Harry really isn't here. I squeeze my eyes tight and then open them slowly.

"Hermione? How are you feeling?" Molly Weasley is next to me now, a cool hand on my forehead. I sit up and rub my fingers against my temples, feeling them pounding against my fingertips.

"Oh ..." I groan, my vision still a bit blurry. She helps me sit up, my eyesight returning back to normal. I look around, realizing I'm sitting on the floor in the visitor's room, everyone crowded around me. Everyone but him. Did I imagine him? A part of me hopes so and the other part is screaming for him to be real and solid.

I'm helped to my feet, a hand resting on my arm as I stumble a little. "I'm all right," I mumble, pulling away from the hands holding me up. The nurses and doctor move away and out of the room, almost as if they weren't there. I dust myself off, not wanting to look up and yet trying to control my breathing. I can't keep my face downcast any longer so I bring it up, only to come face to face with the pair of eyes I have dreamed about for two years, the eyes that I used to melt into, and the eyes that turned away when I needed them the most.

"Hermione." He says my name softly, as if it tastes foreign on his tongue. He's looking straight at me and in his green eyes I see a profound sadness. Sad? What does he have to be sad about? Has he been locked up in here for a year, deemed crazy and unintelligent? I suddenly want to make him hurt, like he hurt me. I want him to suffer the loneliness I have felt for so long.

I don't say anything. I don't think I would be able to even if I wanted, my tongue seems to weigh a ton. Mrs. Weasley steps up next to me and speaks up. "Hermione, Harry is going to get you out of here." She's smiling at him but he continues to stare at me with that intense gaze, hesitant to speak.

I want to cry, laugh, and scream all at once. A whirlwind of emotions are running through me and all I want to do is run away. I want to get away from him and Mrs. Weasley, so that's what I do. I spin on my heel and hightail it out of there, almost yelling at the guards to take me back to my room.

When they let the door close behind me I fall down on my bed, my breathing rapid. I have never been so glad to be in this room. I shut my eyes tightly, wondering why my world is suddenly spinning. When I open them, there he is standing near the door, looking the same the last time I saw him only older, wiser, and healthier. His hair is shorter but a little neater than it used to be in school. The glasses are also still there but they fit him now. They make him look sophisticated, I guess. His face is full and clean shaven. The scrawny eleven-year-old Harry is nowhere in sight. What is he doing in here?

"Hermione ..." He takes a step forward as I sit up but I cut him off from saying anything else.

"Hey! Look who it is! Henry! Oh, I mean Harold ..." I fake a look of confusion, my insides burning with rage. "Um, Harry, is it? Yes! Harry! How are you? Long time no see!"

He looks hurt and I'm glad. So glad, in fact, it scares me. "Okay, I deserved that," he mumbles, coming up to me.

"You think?" I growl, jumping to my feet so fast a wave of dizziness hits me. Harry catches me from falling back and his hand on my skin sends a new emotion racing through my blood.

"Whoa, you okay?" he asks gently, pulling his hand back when I turn to glare at him.

"Nice of you to care all of a sudden," I spit back at him, moving away.

He sighs heavily, taking a seat on the edge of my hard bed. I see him trying to get comfortable before giving up. "Look, I'm here to get you out, okay? As much as you hate me right now, I'm sure you hate this place even more. So please cooperate, will you?"

I want to yell at him, hit him, anything at all, but I don't. He's going to try and get me out, something I have been dreaming about every day since the day I was admitted. I might as well wait until after I'm out to hurt him. "Fine!" I reply, sounding like a spoiled brat. I debate whether to sit down next to him or remain standing but I suddenly feel unsteady on my feet and plop down next to him, as far away as possible.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking concerned. "You're pale."

I turn to glare at him but bite back the insult on my tongue. I don't quite feel right. "Fine, I just haven't eaten in a while and the medicine on an empty stomach isn't helping much," I say instead, not without resentment in my voice.

"You haven't eaten?" he asks, sounding surprised. "Since when?"

"Since yesterday at lunch," I mumble, remembering that I skipped dinner last night.

"Why?"

I sigh in annoyance. "If you see the food you would skip out too. Are you done now? Anymore questions?"

He looks as if he does, in fact, have more to ask but he just shakes his head. "Listen, I'm going to try to get you out tonight, all right? The faster you're out of here the better." He looks around the small room and shivers slightly.

"And how are you going to do that?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. This seems almost impossible, considering Dr. Fellings would have to give his authorization for my release and from our session today that seems unlikely.

"Money talks," he answers in a matter-of-fact tone, without the least hint of vanity.

I snort. "A lot, obviously. Good luck."

He stands up and moves to the door, stopping to look at me. "Hermione, I know it's going to take a lot of time for you to forgive me but I hope I can make it up to you."

"How many lifetimes do you think you get, Harry?"

I can tell my remark has hit its mark because hurt is not the word I would use to describe the look on his face. Despite my attempt at hurting him, I feel a sting of guilt.

"As many as I have to in order to win you back." And he's gone, leaving me to ponder why I have the sudden urge to cry.

...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...

Hours pass and the small hope that had uninvitingly flared at Harry's words is now gone, leaving me feeling confused, frustrated, and angry all at once. I lie on my bed as darkness falls, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stare at the door, have been staring at it since he left, wondering what will happen now.

You think you hate someone, hate them with a passion so raw you convince yourself they're dead to you, and then they waltz back into your life unexplainably and you find you don't hate them as much as you thought you did. No matter how much you want to hate them, you just can't. Just standing in front of me, Harry has thrown everything for a loop. I'm still angry at him, that hasn't changed and won't for a long time, but I can't hate him. He's Harry, how can I hate him?

I wonder what he thinks of me now. In here looking the way everyone thinks I am. Crazy. He doesn't believe that, though. I know he doesn't; I saw it in his eyes. I don't know what's going to happen now. He may fail and leave me in here until, by some miracle, they release me or he succeeds and I'm free. But what happens then? As much as I have dreamed of being released, I never thought about what I would do and where I would go when I was released. I don't have a home; my parent's house was put up for sell after I was thrown in here. They gave me time to pack my stuff and stick in storage, not that it did me any good.

I don't feel comfortable with Mrs. Weasley and her family anymore. I know Ron would be heartbroken at the fact but it's true. Don't get me wrong, I love them with all my heart despite everything that has happened, but it isn't the same anymore. I'm sure you can see why.

And, of course, I have no money so it's impossible to buy my own flat. I'm pretty much stuck either way, now that I think about it. But even living on the street is better than this. Here, I'm not a human being, not an individual. I'm just another person who's drifted to the wrong side and can no longer behave normally. Normally, yeah right.

A knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts and I sit up as Harry walks in accompanied by the famous Dr. Fellings. Harry is smiling, a smile he would have used if he ever won Wizard's Chess against Ron. Fellings looks less than ecstatic. Oh woe is him.

"You're out!" Harry informs me, looking as if he wants to hug me but not sure if I'd hit him or not.

"I'm out?" I repeat, the words not quite processing. The words I've wanted to hear for so long and they don't seem to want to go through my ear and sit in my brain. "You mean, I can leave this place?"

Harry nods vehemently. I'm afraid his neck will snap. I look at Dr. Fellings, who's nodding. "You are being released," he tells me, his tone cold. Does this man feel any emotion? "I have signed your release forms." By the look on his face, he was forced. Now I want to hug Harry.

Instead, I smirk at the doctor. "You signed them? How did that happen?" The sarcasm is oozing out of my mouth. "So you finally believe that I'm not crazy?"

He opens his mouth and looks as if he wants to snap out an opposite reply but Harry turns and looks at him. I wish I could have seen that look because it shuts the guy right up. "You may go as soon as you are ready," he says through gritted teeth and walks out without a backward glance.

Harry and I turn to each other and all I can do is stare. What is there to say?

"You did it," is what I do say.

He nods, that smile back in place. "I did."

"I didn't think you could do it." That's the truth.

"What are you waiting for? I thought you would be sprinting out of here," he says and I suddenly feel like we're back at Hogwarts, best friends again and happy. It hits me for a split second but it leaves me almost breathless. "Hermione?" His concerned look is back.

I blink a couple of times and focus back on his face. I realize what a big thing he has just done for me. Though I haven't forgiven him yet, I'm on the path. "Harry, I, um, don't know what to say." That's also true.

His smile softens. "You don't need to say anything. I have so much to make up for and this is just a small step."

I gape at him. A small step? I don't think he would be saying that if he had been stuck in here. "Thank you. It doesn't seem like enough but that's all I have."

He just shakes his head and turns away, heading to the door. "Are you coming?" he calls over his shoulder and I rush to catch up, not giving this room another glance.

...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...

Remember the guard who shoved her wand into my back then made me eat that gunk called macaroni and cheese? I always knew people who do wrong will get theirs in the end.

I stop at the sound of the screaming and stand near the office, Harry stopping next to me. "What is it?" he asks, looking around.

"Nothing, it's just this guard that ... Well, let's just say we didn't get along ... has been fired," I inform him, listening to her angry tantrums. I'm surprised to find Harry smirking.

"I know."

"You know? How do you know?"

"I'm the one who had her fired."

"What?" My mouth has reached the floor. "You had her fired? Why?" I'm not saying this wasn't great news for me -- I felt like a little kid who's stuffing three cookies into her mouth even though her mother told her she couldn't eat any because they would ruin her appetite -- but I didn't understand why he would fire her when he didn't know what she did.

His facial expression has gone from smug to angry in a second. His eyes have become suddenly clearer and he's clutching his jaw tightly shut. "Why? Because she humiliated you and degraded you. She hurt you."

That was very true but I found it ironic. She hurt me but so did he. In fact, he hurt me more than she ever could. I don't say any of this, of course, but I think he senses it. That sounds funny but I'm the type of person where if I'm angry or agitated, you'll know it, whether I say something or not. Instead, I say, "How do you know what she did?"

"I saw the tape. I saw them all. How can they treat you like that?" He was angry now, almost as angry as I was when he was standing in front of me in the room.

I just shrug. "It's just the way it is. You get used to it." I give him a sidelong glance. "Are we going to get out of here? I've spent enough time in here to last me a lifetime, I don't want to add two more minutes to that."

He still looks upset but nods anyway and we head towards the door. I see life out there. I stop when he opens the door and just stand there. This is it, I'm rejoining the world. The happiness and excitement that is bubbling inside of me right now is unexplainable. I take a deep breath and step through the door Harry has opened.

Streetlamps are lit on every corner, sending spots of light dancing on passerby's heads. The sky is dark and clear, not a cloud in sight. Conversations and laughter ring in my ears, car horns sound like bells as they whiz past us. I'm looking around me as if I've entered a different dimension where everything is the opposite of what you've always known. I feel Harry's gaze on me and turn to him, his eyebrow raised high. "What?" I ask. "Do you really blame me?"

His eyebrow comes down and he looks thoughtful. "No, I don't."

We walk down the sidewalk and I breathe in the fresh air, so unlike the stale, dead air in the institution. It feels amazing walking outside in the streets of London. I'm as free as I'll ever be now. We walk in silence which is perfectly all right; I don't feel like talking.

"How about we go and get you a wand?" Harry asks suddenly, looking at me with a what-do-you-think expression on his face.

"A wand?" I know I would have to get one sooner rather than later but I hadn't been expecting Harry to come with me, since I was planning on earning money and buying one myself.

"Uh huh, a wand. You know the stick you use to do magic with? Yeah? That thing."

His sarcasm gets on my nerves more than it should. I glare at him with no humor whatsoever and he looks apologetic. "I'm sorry," he says, looking like it. "I shouldn't be like that."

Instead of accepting or denying his apology, I turn away and ignore it. I don't know why that bothered me so much but I know that I'm not ready to be friends with him again, to pretend everything is okay and we can move on. That's not possible. Too many factors have brought us to where we are now and if we don't work through those, we can never move on. At this point, I'm content on staying angry with him.

He clears his throat but doesn't speak and we walk the rest of the way to Diagon Alley in silence. As we emerge from the wall a blanket of memories wrap around me, my eyes tearing up as I look around. The shops are still lined on each side of the streets, crowds of people hurrying across the cobblestones to get what they need. Along with the memories floating to the surface, a realization of another, more unpleasant sort makes itself known. What will people think now that I'm out? We, Harry, Ron, and I had been in papers across the country since the beginning of the War, throughout it, and at its end. I'm sure, as much as I don't want to believe so, my being thrown into a mental institution was plastered all over the papers, as was Ron's death and Harry's leaving. I haven't read any of them and I don't want to. The rumors would have to be unbelievable and I'm not quite sure I'm ready for that.

But what about now? What will people think when they see me walking around? With Harry, no doubt. What will they say or think? Will they be on my side or against me? I don't care as much as I sound, but I feel as if I've been reborn in a way, given another chance among all the others I have been given. I'm not going to let anyone ruin this for me.

"Hermione? We're here," Harry says and I realize I had past Ollivanders.

I nod and we head inside, the shelves upon shelves of wands making the room dark and intimidating. "I'll be with you two in just a moment," comes the owner's voice, old and shaky by now but not at all frail. My heart is beating furiously as I wait for him to appear and see us both. Ollivander is not one to forget a face.

"I knew you would be back here." His voice startles me as he comes out of the shadows. "One cannot live without a wand, not in this world anyway." He is peering at me with a mild curiosity. I'm now positively sure he has read the news.

I smile a bit shakily and step up to the counter. I open my mouth to speak but he cuts me off. "I have a selection of wands I have put aside for you, Miss Granger, since I knew you would need a new one. There is one in particular I would like you to try."

I nod, his words sending a chill through my spine, but if I remember right, Mr. Ollivander has always been a bit on the strange and eerie side. "I'll choose one today but I can't buy it today, you see," I begin, remembering my lack of money.

He stares me down intensely until I have to look away but he only nods curtly and walks away. "Hermione, I'm buying it for you," Harry speaks up once the owner disappears behind his shelves.

I look at Harry, close and hard, and wonder why he's really doing all this for me. I needed him before much more than I need him now, yet he's doing everything he can to help me. Well, almost everything he can. I still don't have his trust or an explanation for that matter.

"Harry, it's all right. You don't have to feel like you have to put me back on my feet. I don't want your pity. That is the last thing I need, especially now. "

He looks genuinely chagrined. "Charity? I thought you knew me better than that. I'm doing this to make it up to you for everything that has happened. Please."

"I thought I knew you too," I reply coldly before I can stop myself. The look on his face almost makes me apologize. Almost. Instead I sigh and give in. "Fine, you can do this for me but don't think it will make everything better."

"I know that," he answers quietly, giving me a look I can't decipher and pulling out some money, just as Mr. Ollivander emerges from the shadows.

"Here we are," he says, placing five boxes out in front of me. After trying out the first four with no luck (besides almost burning off Harry's eyebrows; much to my amusement) he pulls the fifth one towards me, mumbling something sounding like, "Just as I thought ..."

I'm beginning to feel uneasy, as everyone does in this shop. He pulls the wand out and the first thing I notice is that it's unusually long for a wand. "Now try this one. I'm sure this is it," he tells me, handing it to me.

I wrap my fingers around the cool wood and immediately feel a slight tingle go down my arm; an effect of a wand made for you alone. I look up at him in surprise but he is smiling now, quite confident of himself. "Just as I thought. This is made of holly, 12", and the most unusual part is that it contains a single feather from a Snidget." He stops here to see the effect this information has on me.

I am surprised, I must admit. A Snidget is a small bird with golden feathers and jewel-like eyes. They can fly with amazing agility and change speed and agility almost instantaneously. That is not what's so surprising. Because of its use in Quidditch games and being hunted, the Snidget became almost extinct, which is why there are now severe penalties for catching or harming one.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger, this feather was not directly plucked from the Smidget's body. As I recall, it was found by Merlin himself."

I don't exactly understand the value of a Smidget's feather and don't know if the bird has any special powers but the fact that someone didn't harm the bird for the feather comes as a relief. And, at that point, I was just glad to have a wand. "This is it for me then," I say, trying to ease my uneasiness.

He nods and places it back in the box. He turns to put it away but Harry stops him. "Mr. Oliivander, we would like to buy it now, please. A change of mind, you know."

The old wizard looks between us with a look that sends our eyes moving away from his face. "All right," is all he says, accepting the money and watching us as we leave his store. The uneasy feeling washes away as we step outside and the rush of noises hits us.

"Thank you," I tell Harry, not quite looking at him.

He nods and throws me a quick smile before moving along. We pass stores, enter some, and laugh at others. After Harry's treat of ice cream (where I noticed we both chose the same flavors we did the last time we were here together.) we continue our walk down the streets, the skies darkening with black clouds.

We reach Magical Menagerie and my chest tightens. Memories of buying Crookshanks here send sadness so thick falling over me I have to squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears. I lost him the year I lost everything else. When Voldemort invaded Hogwarts, he took great pleasure in killing my cat. The loss was as hard as any other but I haven't let myself dwell on my lost pet, not until now.

Harry notices but he doesn't offer any words of comfort, which I'm grateful. His hand comes to rest on my shoulder for a brief second before he walks a bit ahead of me. I control my emotions and follow him.

When a person loses someone or something they loved, they have to get closure in order to move on. They have to come to terms with the loss, accept it, and mourn it. When everything spun around me in seventh year, landing me on my head instead of on my feet, I wasn't given a chance to mourn anything or anyone. Everything was snatched away from me so quickly I didn't have time to even blink. After the chaos settled and a dark depression took hold of me, I was too far gone to properly mourn. Then I was put into the institution and it is impossible to do anything right in there.

I realize that some day soon I will have to come to terms with everything that has happened. I will have to grieve like I should have when everything happened and I will have to move on. The thought that shocks me is that I hope Harry will be there with me.

"Ready to leave?" His voice cuts through my lamentations and I look up to see him waiting patiently. I nod then stop my walking abruptly. Wait, leave to where? What comes crashing down is that I have no home, no place to go to.

"Hermione, I know I should have asked you first but I was hoping you would come and stay with me, since, you know you don't have ..." Besides looking highly uncomfortable, he also looks at a loss for words.

Stay with Harry? A couple of years ago, that was the only place to stay. That was all we ever thought of. But now? Now it's different. Everything is different. "Stay with you? Are you sure? I don't want to impose myself on you ..." Though the payback would be nice. Don't judge me too hard for this thought; at least I feel a bit guilty at thinking it.

He rolls his eyes with a smile. "You wouldn't be. Besides, it would be nice to have some company. Unless, of course, you want to stay with Mrs. Weasley." He doesn't say why else he wants me to stay with him but I know the reasons already. We need to make things right, talk, get to know each other all over again.

The thought of staying with Molly is slightly disturbing because I don't want to. That could be even more uncomfortable than staying with Harry. "Well, if you're sure ... I don't really have anywhere else to go ... So, okay, why not?"

We decide to Apparate, as nervous as I am about it. After reassuring me it will be fine, he takes my hand in his and shuts his eyes. In a moment we've disappeared and reappeared in front of a two-story cottage that needs some work but still looks as if it came out of a fairy tale.

As I stand there looking up at it and getting some very familiar feelings, the black clouds from earlier form together and large raindrops are suddenly pouring from the sky. "Godric's Hollow!" I cry suddenly as realization dawns. I see Harry nod through the haze of rain as he quickly moves to the door and unlocks it. He must be rebuilding it since it was destroyed the night his parents were killed.

Instead of rushing inside after him, I stand there in the middle of the front yard and let the rain fall on me. Its cold seeps through my skin, waking up my heart from its stupor, and I feel suddenly alive. My head tilts up and my arms go out and I'm soaked through. It doesn't matter though because in this moment I know that somehow, everything will be okay.

We each stop at a point in our life where we realize all our situations have led up to this point and there's no looking back now. I'm there now, standing in front of this cottage, rain beating down on me, and I know that whatever happens, it'll all be okay.

...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...:::...

A.N.2.: Phew, that was difficult to write. I hope it's nice and long for you and please if I've made any mistakes please let me know. I made up the wand (not the animal though) and I thought Godric's Hollow would be a good place for Harry to live. it symbolizes a lot and plus, it's in a Muggle neighborhood where no one will ever think to bother him.

Also, if you guys think Hermione is being too cruel, she has a right to be. That's all I'm saying : )

Please leave me suggestions or constructive criticisms ... I really do want to hear what you all think. BIG thanks to all who have reviewed.... Love to all of you.

One more thing and I'm out: I'm going to be using lyrics from different songs from now on, so I'll let you know what song and from who. OH, and some other information: it's late summer … End of August. Also, Hermione is 19 and Harry is 20. I can't think of anything else that needs explaining but let me know.

THANKS!

Anjel

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