Harry awoke suddenly as if from a nightmare. Mrs. Potter? The thought burst into his head as he fumbled for his glasses on the nightstand. He looked at his watch. It was only 1 am. Mrs. Potter?! He slipped on his dressing gown and his slippers. Mrs. Potter?!?! He opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
A small murmur from Hermione's room caught his attention. He was suddenly curious about what was going on in that room, in her dreams. He was quickly reminded why he was out in the hall in the dead of night. Mrs. Potter.
He quietly walked down the hall contemplating the meaning of the dream, and the words that fell out of his mouth on their own. Sure, he liked Hermione, really liked her. He had even recognized the fact he loved her, and wanted to be with her in very un-platonic ways, but he had never contemplated any kind of long-term relationship, let alone marriage. Mrs. Potter?
He once again found himself in the kitchen. He had been making a habit of it due to his insomniac nights recently. An old muggle remedy, he had found, seemed to help and make his sleepless night a little more bearable. He reached into the chillbox and pulled out what he sought. A few minutes on the stovetop and he was rewarded with the sweet vanilla-like smell of warm milk. With a large mug filled with the soothing liquid, he headed to a hidden spot upstairs where he could properly think on a night like this.
He paused briefly in front of Hermione's room on his way, hearing a hushed voice inside, unable to make out any words. He wondered what she and Ginny could be discussing this late at night. He pushed the thought from his mind and continued down the hall. After a few doors he slipped up a small staircase hidden by one of the many faded tapestries in the dreary house.
Harry had found this passage when exploring earlier that summer on one of the many occasions he had been left alone in the enormous house. He hadn't told anybody about it. He had wanted to keep it all to himself, a personal oasis to escape when he needed to, like tonight.
He reached the top of the steep spiral staircase and looked around the small circular room. Harry figured it must be in the top of one of the turrets. It had a small writing desk on one side and a small bookcase on the other. Obviously, someone had once intended it to be their own personal oasis too. Harry walked across the small room in just a few steps to the reason he really came here, the large window. It looked out over the neighborhood, with the small park directly ahead of him.
He sipped from his mug and sighed heavily. It was a clear night with a very bright moon, bathing everything in that wonderful bluish moonlight. It was calm, serene, and he needed it.
Before he could get lost in his own thoughts, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and a soft voice ask, "Are you okay Harry?"
He already knew who it was. He hadn't heard her follow him in the room. He was surprised he hadn't jumped when she touched him, and he couldn't find it in him to be mad at her for invading his oasis. "Not really, but I will be," he said without turning around.
"Was it another nightmare?" she asked uneasily.
"No. A dream, but not a nightmare." He paused, then said "Let's just say it was, um... thought provoking and leave it at that," before she could inquire further. "After last year I've learned I really need to think things through instead of just reacting."
He felt her hand slide down to the small of his back as she stepped next to him. He turned and found a very worried looking Hermione bathed in the moonlight. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked in the pale light, defining every feature of her face and playing with the highlights of her hair. He burned the image in his mind so he would never forget. He briefly thought of telling her about the prophecy, but decided he still didn't want to worry her anymore than she already was.
"Thank you 'Mione."
"What for?"
"For simply being there for me. You'll never know how much it means to me."
"I wouldn't be anywhere else," she said as she put her head on his shoulder, moving closer and giving him a sideways hug. He put his arm around her shoulder and held her close.
They stood like that for what seemed like hours, just looking out the window, not saying a word. The only sounds coming from the occasional sip of his warm milk. He felt very comfortable and calm, all his previous anxiety gone. A radiating warmth had spread throughout his entire body. He wasn't sure that it was from the milk.
<>
By the time the first rays of sunshine arrived the following morning, he had come to the conclusion that the dream was not as bad as he had first made it out to be. He had, once again, found himself in the loving arms of the only woman that could ever really understand him, on so many levels. He had felt her skin in his hands. He had inhaled her fragrance. He had tasted her essence. Those all had felt wonderful, but the comment that slipped out his mouth had brought that all to a screeching halt.
It was all a dream, but he knew it had to at least mean something. Maybe his subconscious' way to hit him over the head with a clue rock, to get him to look inside and deal with his own feelings for the gorgeous girl that had become so much a part of his life, that he couldn't fathom life without her by his side.
The concept that his love for Hermione might be more than some fleeting teenage thing didn't seem as far-fetched or as disturbing as it did last night. But the circumstances of his life wouldn't let him to explore that possibility until Voldermort was thoroughly, and completely vanquished. With this thought weighing heavy on him, he finished getting dressed and went downstairs for breakfast.
As he stepped into the kitchen, he saw that he wasn't the only one that last night had taken a toll on. Hermione was sipping from a steaming mug, with dark circles under her half-closed and puffy eyes. He sat across from her and gave her an apologetic smile. When he knew he had her attention, he mouthed a silent 'I'm sorry.' She waved her hand and dismissed the apology with a small shake of her head.
As hungry Harry was from staying up most of the night, he didn't eat much, and he noticed Hermione didn't either.
"Didn't sleep well either last night dear?" asked Molly as she cleared his half-eaten plate.
"I guess two restful nights are too much to ask for," Harry responded.
Hermione pushed her plate away and excused herself. Harry wondered if she was going to be okay. He let her into his sanctum for just one night and she had already paid for it. He watched her walk out of the kitchen with a pang of guilt and a growing sense of longing. He began to worry what that night had in store for him.
<>
The ground was rushing towards him. No, he was accelerating towards the ground, so was the snitch inches away from his outstretched hand. The wind began whistling past his ears. The smell of cut grass and sweat invaded his nose. He could feel his hand tightening its grip around the broom underneath him. The ground was approaching quickly, but the snitch wasn't changing direction. Harry began to worry that he wouldn't have time to pull up. He could almost count the blades of grass.
The snitch suddenly cut right. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to pull up. Harry put both his hands on his broom and pulled up with all his might. The Firebolt didn't respond. Harry closed his eyes and braced for the impact he knew he wouldn't avoid.
Harry felt his body hit the ground, the grass not softening the impact any. His body bounced off the pitch several times before finally coming to a stop. He felt like an old rag doll. He opened his eyes and saw a panic-stricken girl running onto the field calling his name.
He closed his eyes and felt the pain flow over his body. He tasted blood in his mouth. He knew this was worse than any of his previous crashes. Just like a script, he thought 'This is it. I'm going to die.'
He opened his eyes just in time to see Hermione's bushy head collide with his chest as she threw her arms around him. She was crying uncontrollably.
"Her-mione," Harry said, wincing at the pain in his chest. "I'll be fine."
She looked into his eyes with hers red and overflowing with tears. He could see the overwhelming pain behind those cinnamon pools, and his injuries paled in comparison. He felt his heart break. He couldn't stand to see in her in such pain and anguish. "Harry James Potter, you PROMISED this would never happen!" she said and broke down into a fresh round of bawling.
"Just... get me to... Madam Pomfrey... and I'll be... fine."
"I can't! There's no one else here and I left my wand in my room." Hermione said hysterically.
Harry looked around and saw the stands were empty. The rest of the Quidditch team was missing, along with any opponents. They were horribly alone in the stadium he realized.
"I love you too much to lose you now! I can't lose you to Voldermort, and I definitely can't lose you to a silly game of Quidditch!" she sobbed softly. He looked back into her eyes. 'I can't do this,' he thought, 'I can't see her suffer anymore.'
He put every ounce of willpower he had into sitting upright. With every jab of pain, every complaint his body made, he pushed the injuries out of his mind and out of existence. He wrapped his arms around Hermione and whispered in her ear, "You'll never lose me, especially not like this."
Hermione pulled back, her eyes as large as bludgers. She stuttered as she spoke, "Y-y-you-your injuries, you should be dead, dying!" A look of utter disbelief plastered on her face.
"I refuse to cause you that much pain, even if it means I don't get the pleasure of dying in the arms of such a beautiful woman." He said as he forced a smirk, trying to comfort her.
She hugged him fiercely. He noticed his ribs no longer hurt, none of him did. He lifted her chin from his chest and kissed her reassuringly on the lips. He felt her surrender to the kiss.
"Just remember that you will never lose me, because you're my snitch Hermione," he said when they broke for air.
"Huh?" she asked dazed.
"You're my snitch, my reason to live. Like a snitch, you are beautiful and elusive, something few will get the honor of getting close to and only the most worthy will ever get to catch and hold. I have always been so close, yet you've remained just out of my reach. I want to hold you so bad it hurts, but happiness is something that has always been kept away from me. But I'll always follow, keeping you within my sight, forever trying to catch happiness." The words had rushed straight from his heart to his mouth. As he spoke them, they seemed to lift a weight he never knew was there. He knew that he had never spoken truer words.
Fresh tears burst from her eyes, but a smile had appeared on her face. He found her chocolate brown eyes to be as beautiful as ever, even red and puffy as they were, for the life had returned to them.
He pulled her into a deep and passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever.