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Re-Awakening by mysticdueler
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Re-Awakening

mysticdueler

A/N: Okay, let's see, got my bullet-proof Kevlar body suit, flame retardant body suit, riot shield, gas mask, hazmat suit. I think I'm all set. *Opens door and walks ten feet before surrounded by Nuclear Warheads* Umm . . . crap! (Longer author's note at end)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make no money. I have no money. Ah, screw it, you guys don't read these things anyway. Well, as I always say . . . On with the show!

Revelations

Harry sat bolt upright, a scream echoing off his lips and through the dark Granger home. His mind was reeling from the images of his most recent nightmare, and he couldn't think clearly; all he could do was scream and scream and scream. Vaguely, he registered the glowing numbers of a clock reading 4:27. A sudden realization struck him and he stopped screaming; it was four thirty in the morning, and he had most likely woken the Grangers up, again. Harry had barely finished the thought when his door burst open and a figure swarmed in. Harry closed his eyes in anticipation, but felt nothing but the sinking of his bed beside him as the visitor sat down.

"Harry, what is it? Did you have another nightmare?" As she spoke, Hermione reached out and took hold of Harry's nearest hand. Surprisingly, Harry felt himself relax instantly to Hermione's touch, and squeezed her hand in response. He looked up at her, and found himself unable to say anything. Hermione's face was silhouetted against the curtains of her hair, which seemed to glow in the moonlight, and the bare skin of her arms were shining a radiant pearly white. Her eyes, full of concern, were glittering out at him brightly. There was only one word that Harry could think of to describe the scene before him: beautiful.

Shaking himself mentally, Harry realized that Hermione had been expecting him to answer, and so far he had simply been staring at her. Still unable to speak, Harry nodded his head, his eyes never leaving her face. "Oh, Harry," Hermione said as she leaned over to pull him into a hug. Harry found himself almost eagerly leaning into the hug, and as he sat wrapped in Hermione's embrace, he felt a sense of security and warmth that he had never experienced before. "Harry . . . Do-do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked tentatively, afraid of Harry's reaction. Normally, Harry would have refused, withdrawing further into his self-imposed shell, but being surrounded by Hermione's presence and, with it, the sense of impenetrable security Harry once again nodded his head.

Shifting themselves so that they were both sitting against the headboard, Harry still leaning into Hermione's embrace, Harry began to tell Hermione his nightmare. "It started the same as the other one last night; you falling off the cliff. But this time, this time I managed to grab onto your hand. I had you; I had saved you. I felt so relieved. But then, you were gone, falling . . . somehow I let go. I - I failed." Harry's throat constricted as the image of Hermione swam before his eyes, her face full of fear and disbelief, then disappointment and blame. Hermione, sensing Harry's distress, hugged him tighter, placing her head on his shoulder. Harry felt a soothing warmth spread through him, starting in his chest and spreading outward. The lump disappeared, and Harry found himself able to continue.

"L-Like before, everything went dark, except this time when I looked up I found myself in a cemetery. I was surrounded by tombstones; they were everywhere. And, each one, each and every single one, had the name of a friend or family on it; my parents, S-Sirius, the Dursleys, you, Ron and the Weasleys, Hagrid, even Dumbledore and McGonogall." Harry gave a small shudder. "But that wasn't the worst. Under each name, they said - they said . . ." Once again a lump had formed in his throat.

"Harry, what did they say?" Hermione was looking at him consolingly, comfortingly. "Come now, I'm here for you, you can tell me." Hermione was doing her best to comfort Harry and calm him down. She began to rub his upper back and shoulders in small circles with the arm that was wrapped around him. As if in response to Hermione's touch, Harry felt himself relax again, the feeling of warmth filling him. The lump lessened, enough for Harry to continue.

"They said, `Killed by Harry Potter.' Each and every single one of them. It was just so, so overwhelming." Harry paused to wipe a tear that had fallen.

"Harry, you mustn't blame yourself for every single death. Nobody's death has been your fault."

"Yes it was. It's always been my fault."

"Harry, look at me." Hermione waited while he slowly brought his watery green eyes to bear on her. "Listen, Harry. Were you holding the wand that took the life of Cedric? Of Sirius? Of your parents?"

"Hermione - "

"Answer me, Harry. Were you?" Slowly, Harry responded.

"N-no. But - " Hermione placed a finger on his lips.

"Did you order or force them to be killed?"

"No."

"Well, then, you're not responsible. It's not your fault!"

"No! You just don't get it! It IS my fault!" Harry broke away and turned to face Hermione. "Everyone has died because I merely existed! All because of who I am! If it hadn't been for me, they all would still be alive! I wish I was dead, that Voldemort had gotten my long ago. Or, even better, that I was never even born!" As Harry finished, tears were flowing down his face, and he was almost shouting. Hermione looked like she had been slapped.

"Harry, don't you ever dare say that again!" With that, she pulled Harry into a fierce hug, effectively stunning the distraught young man. After a while, she pulled back slightly and looked at him. "Harry, if you never existed, I most likely would have been dead, killed long ago by a troll in a bathroom! And even if I had managed to survive on my own, I would be without any friends." Her voice, which had started strong and full (but not loud), now dwindled to little more than a weak whisper. "Harry, you're one of the few friends I have, and really, my only true friend. If it weren't for you, I would have nothing." After a moment spent hugging Harry again, Hermione said, "So, don't you dare think about taking that away from me, or I'll hex you to next week." Hermione smiled weakly at Harry, who managed to bring the corners of his mouth up slightly. Hermione shifted herself so she was back to her original position against the headboard. "Well, um, we seem to have gotten a little off topic. Now then, where were we? Surrounded by graves?"

Harry nodded, and then took a deep breath. "I was standing in the graveyard, surrounded by all those graves, everyone I know. Suddenly, a - a hand broke out of the ground in front of me and grabbed at my foot. Everywhere, bodies were bursting forth from the ground, pulling themselves up. They were all rotted, barely more than skeletons. Their skin was grayish, and peeling away. They had no eyes, just black, empty sockets. Some were missing arms or legs, and one or two were without heads entirely." Harry's voice then became flat, monotone, and emotionless.

"They began to chant something. At first I couldn't make it out, but after a while I did. They were saying, `Kill Harry Potter' over and over. They all began to converge on me. I tried to run, but I - there were just too many. I couldn't get away. Some started to grab me, restraining me, holding me down. They just kept coming, swarm after swarm. I was quickly buried. It kept getting heavier and heavier, and I couldn't breath. The last thing I can remember before waking up was a cold, rotten hand chocking me. I don't know how, but I know it was yours. I could sense it, somehow." Harry fell silent, his head dropping onto Hermione's shoulder, tears trying to fall.

"Oh, Harry." With her right hand, Hermione was holding Harry's, while her left had rubbed patterns through the hair on the back of his head, fingers grazing the scalp. Harry closed his eyes, trying to control the whirlwind of emotions and thoughts of his mind. Harry felt Hermione's fingers running through his hair, and little by little found his mind relaxing. A warm, soothing sensation was spreading from where her fingers moved, drawing out and obliterating all the distress and tension he was feeling. The tears were conquered at last.

Without warning, Harry let out a huge yawn. "Harry, you really should get back to sleep." Hermione stopped her hand motions and rested her head against Harry's. "You need to rest." Before Harry could much as think of a response, he was stopped by another huge yawn. "See. Case in point!" Hermione shied off the bed, stood up, and pulled back the sheets. "In you get, now." She spoke in a firm tone, yet there was still a gentleness and kindness rooted deep within.

Harry slowly laid himself down, his head coming to rest gently on the pillows while Hermione tucked him in. Sitting back down next to Harry, Hermione began running her fingers through his hair again. "Thanks, `Mione," Harry mumbled. "For everything." Harry closed his eyes, relishing in the warmth spreading from his head downwards. Minutes later, his breathing was deep, slow, and regular, in almost perfect synchrony with the motion of Hermione's fingers.

Hermione sat there next to Harry massaging his scalp and hair, watching him sleeping for about ten minutes before she began to grow tired herself. Gently, she slipped in under the covers next to Harry, nestling up close to him. "Good night, Harry. I love you." She placed a soft kiss on his cheek before closing her eyes and joining Harry in the world of slumber.

Robert walked back to his room, mind at ease. Like Hermione, he had been woken by Harry's loud, tormented screams. He had quickly pulled on his bathrobe and rushed down the hall, only to witness Hermione dash in to Harry's room. Robert, sensing the importance and intimacy of the moment, contented himself with watching and listening from outside the door. As he slipped back under the sheets and up next to his sleeping wife, Robert couldn't help but feel proud of his daughter. As Robert closed his eyes, he began to play back what he had just seen. Obviously, Harry, no matter how strong a person he is, cannot recover on his own. `He needs professional help. I think maybe it's a time to call up the ol' Doc.' The image that appeared to Robert was the final one he had seen before deciding to slip off back to bed: Harry had just crawled in bed and Hermione was tucking him in. Robert smiled to himself before falling asleep, leaving the house once more still and silent.

Harry opened his eyes to see his room lit by bright, late-morning rays. Harry buried his head deeper into his pillow and sighed in contentment. It had been the first time he had felt this rested in a long, long time. Not only that, but Harry felt an indescribable warmth and security flowing through him and surround him. Harry moved to draw the sheets tighter around him, trying to trap the warmth and remain this way as long as he could, only to find that he was not alone. Nestled up against him, head lying on his shoulder and an arm draped over him, was Hermione, a soft smile playing across her face as she slept. She looked so perfect lying there, asleep next to him. Harry could only stare at her, and wondered how he had not noticed her weight earlier. Harry realized that the warmth and security he had been feeling was coming not from the sunlight or the sheets but from Hermione. Smiling and sighing slightly, Harry subconsciously drew Hermione closer, closing his eyes trying to preserve the moment and delay the time he would have to return to reality.

"Good morning, Harry." Harry opened his eyes in surprise; his vision was filled with deep, shimmering pools of brown and a warm smile, all surrounded in a glowing, golden-brown halo.

"H-Hermione, you're awake!" Hermione giggled slightly at Harry's response. "I'm sorry for waking you up. I didn't mean to." Harry's face became pained at the thought of having caused Hermione to lose sleep.

"It's okay, Harry. Besides, I dare say it's time we got up, anyway." Hermione indicated with her eyes to the clock on the other side of the room, which read just after eleven o'clock. "Come on, let's get up and get ready to face the day." Harry looked down at the edge of the sheets.

"Hermione, I'd - I'd rather not. I don't think I can do it. I just want to stay here where it's safe and sound, with you. Harry pulled Hermione a little closer and rested his head against hers. "I'm afraid, `Mione. I don't know what will happen to me. What if we are attacked, and I die? Or worse, you die? I just, I want to stay where it's safe. To escape everything."

While not unexpected, Hermione was still unsettled; she was still trying to get used to this new Harry, as opposed to the old Harry that never gave up, that kept going no matter what. "Harry . . . nothing's stopped you from living your life before. You've never let it. So, why start now? You may be safe, but would you be truly alive? Is running from fear really living?" Harry was looking contemplative, and Hermione knew she was close to consoling Harry. Suddenly, an idea struck her. "Besides, Harry, if you never left this bed, how would you eat, what would you drink? And, if you did stay in here forever . . . " Hermione leaned closer and in a voice little above a whisper continued, " . . . you'd stink something awful!"

Harry, despite himself, laughed a little at this. Harry drew in a deep breath and released it, lost in the contentment of the moment. However, as the air rapidly rushed from his lungs, so too did the feeling of happiness that had suddenly flared up; as if his very breath was carrying it away, scattered to the winds. Harry stared at Hermione a moment before he spoke. "Hermione . . . so much has happened, I don't know if I can handle any more. I don't know what to do anymore."

"Harry, it's okay, you don't have to have all the answers." She paused a moment, looking at Harry with the utmost conviction and sincerity she could muster. Her eyes suddenly seemed to glow, and a smile spread its way across her mouth. "That's my job." A barrage of images swam before Harry's mind; each one showing Hermione hunched over a stack of books or reading something with her nose mere inches from the pages. Once again, Harry found himself smiling. "You just focus on keeping on living, Harry. I'll take care of the rest, okay?"

"O-Okay. And, thanks, `Mione, for always taking care of me."

"Oh, don't mention it. It's nothing at all, really." Hermione was doing her best not to look and sound too happy with herself, and was failing. Still smiling, Hermione slipped away from Harry and stood up next to the bed (rather reluctantly on her part). "All right, lazy bones, time to get up! As late as it is, I'm surprised you're not - " Hermione stopped as a low, loud rumbling sound rolled out from beneath the bed sheets. " - hungry," she finished. All she could do was grin at Harry, the sheepish look he was giving her making her break into giggles. "Let's go change and clean up a bit, and then we can go down and get something to eat." Seeing Harry nod, Hermione slipped quietly out of Harry's room and back into her own.

After a quick shower for Harry and a rather long battle with a brush for Hermione, they both met each other on the landing outside their rooms fifteen minutes later. "Come on, let's go and see what's for breakfast." Hermione looked down at the new watch on her right wrist she had purchased two days ago while shopping for Harry. "Or, should I say, lunch." Hermione smiled at Harry before leading the way downstairs, Harry directly behind her. As they neared the kitchen, they heard the sounds of someone bustling about inside.

"Oh, you two are finally up and out of bed!" Helen walked over to Hermione, wrapped her in a hug, and planted a kiss on top of her head. "Good morning sweetheart. Or what's left of it." Helen then turned and gave Harry a small hug as well. "Good morning to you, too, Harry." Helen stepped back to the stove where a pot of water was beginning to boil. "What would you two like to eat? I imagine you must be quite hungry, especially you Harry. I'm fixing some noodle soup, if you'd like some." Harry and Hermione nodded their approval before walking over and joining Robert in sitting at the table. As they sat down, Robert lowered and folded the newspaper he had been reading and looked at them, smiling.

"Morning, you two. How are we feeling this fine almost-noon morning?" Hermione rolled her eyes at her father's cheeky grin.

"I'm fine, Dad. I feel nice and well-rested."

"Well, I would certainly hope so, seeing as how you've slept almost half the day away!" Robert noticed Harry's face fall slightly. "Harry, it's all right, you two are both free to do whatever you feel like here, be it reading, swimming, staying up late, or sleeping all day. It's summertime; your time. Use it however you see fit. Just don't spend the entire summer studying."

"Dad!" Hermione let out an indignant huff. "I'm not all about books, you know that!" Just then, Helen walked over, lunch in her hands.

"Hermione's right, dear." Hermione shot her father a smug look. "You forgot about all the practicing."

"MUM!" Hermione folded her arms over her chest; slouching back in her chair and giving off a pout that made Helen and Robert break out laughing, with Harry joining in shortly after. It wasn't too long until Hermione dropped her scowl and managed a few chuckles herself. After a few minutes, when they had all settled down, they began to eat their lunches that Helen had finished serving. While he ate, Harry observed Hermione closely, swallowing his food before asking the foremost question on his mind.

"Hermione? When your mother mentioned practicing, did she mean you practiced wand movements and spell incantations?" Helen and Robert looked at each other and laughed. Hermione shot them both a harsh glare, which only served to make them laugh again. Harry sat there, completely confused as to what was going on. Hermione turned towards Harry and sighed, more to herself than anything else.

"Harry, what my dear Mother - " Hermione shot Helen another glare, which was returned by a large, toothy grin; " - was referring to was practice of a different sort. I've never mentioned this at Hogwarts, but I . . . I play . . . the cello." Hermione looked at her hands, too nervous to look and see the reaction she would get from Harry. Harry, however, was looking at Hermione with a blank stare.

"Um, Hermione . . . what's a cello?" The grin slowly disappeared off Helen's face, Robert lost some of the sparkle in his eyes, and Hermione snapped her head up and blinked at Harry in disbelief.

"But, Harry, didn't your primary school have a strings program? That's how I got started." Harry slowly shook his head, a confused look on his face.

"Strings . . ?"

"Yeah, you know; orchestra, band, symphony." Harry's confused look remained, although it had lessened slightly. "Haven't - haven't you ever been to a concert?" This time, Harry's face fell, full of sadness.

"No." Harry's voice was low, compounded by the fact that he had lowered his head and was speaking into his lunch. "The Dursleys never took me anywhere or to anything, if they could help it. Before Hogwarts, I hadn't gone any farther from home than my school or the zoo. I never deserved to go anywhere."

Hermione looked horrified. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry! I didn't know. I didn't mean to upset you. Oh, I'm such a lousy friend. Please forgive me." Hermione took a deep breath, preparing to begin again, at which point Robert decided to jump in.

"Harry, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It is in no way your fault the way you were brought up. It all comes back to these Dursleys. Understand, Harry, that whatever they said or did doesn't matter anymore. You no longer need to worry yourself with them; you are free of them now." Harry looked up quickly, his eyes full of question and hope, fixing his gaze on Robert, as if pleading. Robert smiled kindly and answered Harry's unasked question. "Yes, Harry, you really are free. You never have to deal with the Dursleys again for the rest of your life." Harry's eyes brightened as the first true signs of life returned to them for the first time since after the disaster at the Department of Mysteries. That small change alone seemed to alter Harry's entire appearance; he looked somehow younger and carefree, an almost tangible humor waiting to burst from beneath his very skin. Upon witnessing this transformation, the Grangers felt an inexplicable happiness well within them, and Robert actually laughed out. As Hermione looked at Harry, her stomach tingled and her heart fluttered and, for all intents and purposes, she fell in love with him all over again. "That's the spirit, Harry," said Robert, mirthful eyes and trademark grin in place. "Time to be the master of your own fate."

Time seemed to slow down for Harry upon hearing Robert's last words. The room became oddly silent and still, broken only by the unearthly echoing voice of Sibyll Trelawney as his memory of the Prophecy played before him. ` . . . And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives . . .' With a speed that startled all three of the Grangers, Harry's eyes deadened and his face hardened as he seemed to shrink up inside himself once more. A fell wind seemed to blow through the kitchen, dragging with it every aspect of the cheer that had previously pervaded the entire room. Hermione shivered slightly. In a dark voice that should never belong to a man so young, Harry responded to Robert's statement, "More like fate is the master of me." Harry then lowered his head and began to poke at the noodles sitting in front of him, his appetite gone. Harry's sudden and rapid mood change had shaken the Grangers thoroughly, and the rest of the meal was carried out in relative silence, only being broken by the sounds of silverware scraping against the bowls.

Helen and Robert finished at around the same time, while Harry had barely even touched his food and Hermione had fared little better, being too concerned about Harry to give much thought to her lunch. As Helen and Robert stood up to clear their places, Helen decided to try and break the silent tension hanging in the air. She cleared her throat before addressing the two teens. "Well, your father and I are about ready to head back to the office now. Our lunch break is about over, and we're due back for appointments at one thirty." She turned to take her bowl over to the sink, where Robert was already busy rinsing off his own, before turning back. "Oh, I've just remembered; Hermione, I found that letter of Harry's in the wash. It should be sitting there on the table somewhere."

Harry looked at Hermione expectantly, forcing her to pick up the letter and hand it to Harry with shaking hands. When Harry took the envelope in his hands, a strange tingling wept through him in a wave, and the parchment glowed a bright blue briefly. As Harry sat looking intently at the envelope in his hands, noting the address and the seal of Gringotts, Hermione bit her lower lip out of sheer nerves, anxiety welling up inside her at the inevitable outcome. In one sift, deft movement Harry had broken the seal and opened the envelope, the letter peeping out harmlessly.

Harry reached for the official-looking letter slowly, hesitantly; afraid of what its contents might hold yet somehow knowing all the same what a letter from Gringotts would contain. With shaking hands, Harry opened the letter, spreading it out before him, before reading it aloud, unable to bear the thought of reading it silently in his head and needing to hear it to confirm the reality.

"Mr. Harry Potter;

It is with deep regret and condolence that we write to you in your time of grief, to inform you of the reading of the last will and testament of Sirius Black, last remaining heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Your presence is requested at the reading, being mentioned as a recipient in the will. The reading will take place in three days time on Thursday the 25th; arrive at the main lobby of Gringotts at ten o'clock. You may bring any number of guests, at your discretion. If you fail to show, your share of the inheritance will be claimed by the Ministry of Magic and be transferred to the general treasury.

Once again, we send you our deepest condolences in this difficult time.

Rishgall, Head Goblin

Gringotts Wizard Bank

When Harry had finished reading the letter, his weak voice fading away into nothing, the room became absolutely silent. Hermione sat with her breath held, waiting for Harry's reaction while trying to think of responses to them. Robert and Helen had ceased their movements at the beginning of the letter; Robert halfway through placing his dishes in the washer, Helen standing with her bowl still in hand. The silence seemed to stretch on and on, each second more unbearable than the last.

In stark contrast to the deathly silence of the kitchen, inside of Harry was a loud, whirling, violent mix of thoughts and emotions. Harry sat clutching to the paper, his breathing ragged and uneven, hands crinkling the parchment with a white-knuckled grip. The letters and words began to blur together, and Harry blinked furiously, doing his hardest to maintain his rapidly deteriorating composure. All his life, he had learned that to show any sign of emotion meant revealing weakness. He had already been weak and lost control before; he must be strong and in control now. He must be strong. He must be strong and fight it. Fight his emotions. Fight his weakness. Fight against the growing wail of misery and anguish, swelling and ready to burst. Fight against the tight, dry feeling in his throat, against the tears springing forth. A dry, choked sound escaped his mouth, and a single tear fell, landing with an audible plop on the rigid parchment in Harry's hands.

The sound seemed to echo endlessly in the Granger kitchen. "Harry . . ." Hermione stopped, unsure of what to say. So, she did the only thing she could think to do; she moved closer to Harry, until she was practically touching him. The small scuffles her chair made on the polished linoleum floor seemed to have been missed entirely by Harry. She slowly reached out to place her hand on Harry's arm, finding it almost completely seized up; it was surprising he hadn't torn the letter in two. At Hermione's touch, Harry trembled and another strained, choked sound escaped his throat.

"Harry, you shouldn't hold it all in." Hermione's voice reached out, touching Harry in its soft solemnity, although its own tones of mourning were not lost on him. "It's okay to mourn, Harry. We all need to, every now and then. S-Sirius, he . . . he wouldn't want you to live like this. Let go, Harry, let go." Harry's hands, which had slowly begun to twitch as Hermione spoke, were now shaking. Harry was breathing heavily, shakily. With a sniff and a small sob, the letter was released from Harry's hands and began floating down. Before it even hit the table, Harry turned and buried his head on Hermione's right shoulder, his hands gripping the fabric of her sleeves. Harry's control gone, the tears began to fall, and the mournful wail escaped, bursting forth with such ferocity that Robert and Helen found themselves holding each other for support. So deep was the sadness and grief held within his cries, so much pain and suffering, that it seemed his very soul was being torn from his body, rent away with ruthless, merciless force. Within Harry's cries was the undeniable, almost tangible evidence of great and terrible pain, pain such as the normal person never dreams of experiencing.

Meanwhile, Hermione could think of nothing to say; what mere words could she possibly use that would comfort Harry? Taking over for her head, Hermione's heart told her what to do, and so she wrapped her arms around Harry, surrounding and embracing him. Though she could feel dampness spreading outwards from her shoulder, Hermione didn't care, nor would she have dared to remove the source. The only thing Hermione could think of was how much pain and grief Harry was releasing, and wonder over it. `How long has he held this in? How much is he still holding back? How much more will he have to deal with?' Dimly, Hermione was aware that she, too, was crying, albeit silently. `Look at yourself! Pull yourself together; Harry needs you to be strong.' With a slight sniff, Hermione gathered her energies and focused once more entirely on Harry, who had managed to quiet down slightly by this point, with one thought running through her head: no matter what the cost, she would protect Harry and help him any and all ways possible.

And so they remained, each lost in the agony of the scene, time a meaningless thing to them, yet winding on nevertheless. Gradually, Harry's anguished cries became heavy sobs, which became softer sobs, which became gentle sniffling, before finally fading away, leaving only the sounds of breathing in the room. The only motion was that of Hermione's gentle and tender rocking and caresses as she did her best to comfort Harry as a mother comforts her child. A sense of peace was settling in, much like the aftermath of a violent storm, not necessarily an easy or comforting peace, but peace nonetheless.

With a sudden harshness that made the elder Grangers start, the clock on the kitchen wall rang out, signaling the hour. "Oh, my! Robert, it's one, we're going to be late! We've got to get moving!" By this point Helen was already busy bustling about, cleaning up the last vestiges of lunch that remained. Robert looked at Helen a moment before turning and facing Harry and Hermione, who had yet to move in all the commotion.

"In a moment, dear. There's something I need to do first." Robert looked back at Helen, meeting her eye. They looked at each other for the briefest of moments before Helen nodded once and set back to her work. Robert turned his attention once more back onto the two teens, clearing his throat before addressing them. "Harry . . . I don't know what I can say to ease the pain you feel. For what it's worth, I've gone through this myself, so I can relate with you." Robert looked down at his hands and took a deep breath before he looked back up at Harry. "Harry, you have shown me an amazing strength and character that I didn't know could exist." Harry lifted his head off Hermione's shoulder and looked at Robert through red, puffy eyes. "I know you are strong enough to make it through this. But, you can't do it alone, and while I am more than willing to help, I cannot provide you with everything you need." Robert paused and seemed to be considering his next words very carefully. "I do know someone who can, however."

In a soft, hoarse voice, Harry barely managed to ask, "Who?"

Robert continued in the same slow deliberate tone as before, "Harry, I would like you to see Dr. Kroger. He is a psychiatrist who can help you work through your abuse and your grief." Harry closed his eyes a moment before speaking in a thick, gravelly voice.

"I - I see . . . I'm - I'm sorry for being so . . . so weak, so pathetic I can't even handle my own problems." The resulting gasp from Hermione only made Harry feel even lower, and out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Robert's fists shaking.

"Stop this, Harry!" Robert's sudden outburst startled not only Harry, but also Robert himself, and he had to take a few seconds to calm himself while Hermione disengaged her arm from the death grip Harry had on it. "No, Harry," he said in a softer tone, "you're wrong. You are far from weak. Any normal person would have cracked long ago under the pressure and suffering you've been through. Besides, seeing a psychologist isn't a bad thing; it doesn't necessarily mean you're crazy or demented. I am recommending Dr. Kroger because he was, and still is from time to time, my psychologist. He helped me, greatly. I trust him, and I know and trust that he can help you, too."

"I - I just . . . I don't think . . ." Harry trailed off, his face containing a mixture of sadness and that of a lost child.

"It's all right, Harry. If you don't want to, I won't force you. I am only asking for your permission to set up an appointment and see if it helps."

"W-what?" Harry was staring at Robert incredulously, as if he had never seen such a thing before. Robert smiled kindly at Harry.

"I said I am asking your permission. This is something that will affect you directly, and therefore you should have a say in the matter. I can't and won't force you to do anything you don't want to, it isn't right."

Harry turned away, wiping his eyes and whispering a watery, "Thank you." Hermione reached over and began to massage Harry's shoulders while Harry attempted to regain control. Within moments Harry found himself relaxed and calm, as if soothed by her mere touch, and even rested his head against Hermione's shoulder, finding it quite comfortable.

When Robert saw the Harry was relaxed again, he continued. "So, Harry, what do you say? Do you want me to schedule an appointment with Dr. Kroger? Remember, if it doesn't work or if you don't feel comfortable, we can stop after this first one. I think you need it, but that's not up to me to decide. It's your choice, Harry. Just say the word." Harry looked at Robert for a long moment, almost as if he was seeing through him. Slowly, he blinked before focusing on Robert, looking him straight in the eye before taking a deep breath.

"Mr. Granger . . . Robert . . . I trust you. I know you wouldn't harm me. If you think I should see this doctor, then I will." Harry gave a weak smile, which was returned in part by Robert.

"Thank you, Harry. You won't be disappointed. I'll try and set up an appointment later this afternoon." Robert heard Helen's urgent voice sounding near the garage, impatient to leave. As he stood up, Harry and Hermione did the same. All three turned and headed for the garage, Robert in the lead. When they reached the door, Robert continued through while Harry and Hermione stood together just outside the doorframe. As Robert reached for the handle of the passenger-side door, he paused and looked back at Harry. "Oh, and Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"About this hearing on Thursday . . . We'd be more than willing to take you there and pick you up afterwards." A tear and a sniffle escaped from Harry before he regained his control. Harry cleared his throat just as Robert had swung the car door open and was climbing in.

"Wait!" Robert stopped, halfway into the seat, door propped open. "Actually, I - I . . . I would like it if you, all of you," at this Harry looked at Hermione and Helen, "came with me to the reading. I, I could use your support. Please?"

Robert and Helen shared a quick look, before Robert turned back to Harry and addressed in complete solemnity, "Thank you, Harry. We would be honored to go. When we return, we can talk more about everything. Right now, we're in a bit of a hurry, unfortunately."

Helen leaned over to better speak with Harry and Hermione. "We'd rather stay and discuss things, but we have appointments to attend, and bills to pay. We'll be back as soon as we can. Until then, take it easy and relax. You've had enough excitement for one day. Maybe you should take a walk through the park; that's always soothing." Helen looked at the clock on the dashboard. "Oh, dear heavens, we're late! Sorry kids, but we really have to go!" With that, Robert closed the door, Helen put the car in gear, and they rolled off, Harry and Hermione waving goodbye sadly from the door.

Hermione turned and looked at Harry, who was staring morosely at the spot the Grangers' car had just sat. "Come on, Harry, let's take Mum's suggestion and go walk for a while in the park. It's a nice day out, and the flowers and trees will look beautiful." Silently, Harry nodded and followed Hermione, setting out once more for the park.

Miles away in his office, Dumbledore let out a sigh of relief as the last of the dark storm clouds vanished from over the Granger residence, returning the sky to its previous cheery blue. For the past half-hour or so, a fierce storm had blown up seemingly out of nowhere and raged on, with the center seemingly right over the Grangers and Harry. With a wave of his hand, the many magical instruments in front of him fell silent, save for the faint and regular puffing sounds, and the image of the Granger residence faded into thin air.

"Well, Fawkes, it would appear Harry has finally received his Gringotts letter." As if in reply, Fawkes trilled out three melodious notes. "Hmm, yes, I suppose so. For Harry's next lesson, I will instruct him in the control of his emotions in his spell casting, which should hopefully help prevent things like this from happening again. It wouldn't do well for Voldemort to discover his whereabouts this soon." Fawkes chirped again in agreement while Dumbledore resumed concentrating on building up the wards over the Grangers'.

When Harry and Hermione arrived at the park, it was surprisingly empty for being just after two in the afternoon, with no one in sight. As the two began a slow, leisurely pace, Harry let his mind drift away, no longer wanting to think about anything that had happened. No thoughts of Hogwarts, Dumbledore, Snape, Death Eaters, Voldemort, the Department of Mysteries fiasco, the death of Sirius, his friends, or his last two weeks with the Dursleys; all Harry allowed to soak in was the warmth of the sun on his skin, the gentle breeze blowing his hair, and the multitude of colors surrounding him.

Hermione, on the other hand, was too busy managing her thoughts to give pause to her surroundings. All her thoughts were centered on Harry; what he had been through, what he was going through, what he was soon to go through again, his newfound magical prowess, and certainly not least of all her feelings for Harry. She knew she would have to bring it up eventually, and certainly wasn't looking forward to that moment. Hermione snuck a quick glance at Harry and was somewhat relieved to find him looking at ease and almost serene.

`Perhaps now would be the best time to discuss . . . us. I don't want to place any more weight on his shoulders, heaven forbid, but I have to say something. I have to know . . .' Hermione took a deep breath and released it in an attempt to calm her nerves and gather her resolve. She looked once more at Harry, swallowed, and took the plunge. "Harry, I - "

"Hermione," Harry said softly, without looking back at her, "please, not now." He paused to turn and look at her, his eyes filled with a desperate yearning for peace, and perhaps something more. "I just . . . don't want to have to think right now. It's all just been too much. I want to escape, if only just a short while. Later I'll talk as long as you want, I promise, but right now, I don't want to deal with it all. Please?" They had stopped walking and were now standing facing each other. Though she longed for an answer, one look at Harry's face and Hermione couldn't bear it; she just didn't have the heart. Hermione reached up and pulled Harry into a gentle embrace, her arms around his waist and her head resting on his chest. After a brief moment (too brief for her liking), Hermione let go and stepped back.

"Of course, Harry. I think I understand." She paused and gave him a small smile. "I'm holding you to your promise, though. Later, we will talk, of that you can be certain. But for now, we'll just live for the moment." Hermione linked her arm with Harry's and resumed their earlier walking. As she leaned her head against Harry's shoulder, Harry looked down at her and whispered a thank you, before they broke apart and resumed walking as before.

As the two continued their walk, they soon passed by the bench on which they had sat during their previous visit, only to find they weren't as alone as they first thought. What at first glance appeared to be a pile of filthy rags turned out to be a person, lying asleep curled up next to an empty bottle of whisky. As they passed closer, the vagrant rolled in their sleep, revealing the filthy, tangled hair of a woman. Not wanting to wake her, and having nothing to say else wise, Harry and Hermione passed by in silence, although Hermione doubted that even rampaging trolls would have woke the drunken vagrant.

And so they continued for minutes on end, not a word spoken between them, the time spent letting minds wander and appreciating the park for its beauty. Always, whenever they passed by the woman, she was still asleep; sometimes she was facing them while other times she had her back turned, but she was always there.

When the sun began to fall in the sky, Hermione's mind once again began to turn to thinking about Harry. She had spent three hours walking with him in comfortable silence, never tiring, but now the silence was becoming less comforting and more awkward with each lap, and her energy was waning. She realized that the time to reveal her feelings was rapidly approaching, and her heart seemed to strain against her chest in anxious anticipation. Once again her inner demons began confronting her, her insecurities welling up before her mind's eye and transforming her into something worse than Pansy Parkinson in grotesqueness. She began to feel a nauseas churning sensation in her stomach that intensified the more she thought. In a moment of almost blind panic, she realized she would have to begin the conversation, and the though nearly made her freeze in her tracks. She turned her head to look at Harry, and hardened her resolve. She was doing this not only for her sake, but also for his. He needed someone to be there, in every sense of the meaning. She just hoped she was worthy enough. Before she lost her nerve, she drew breath and began forming her opening words on her lips. `Here we go, no turning back now,' she thought.

"I miss him, Hermione." Hermione froze; her nerve failed her at last and she remained silent, both annoyed and relieved. "There's just so much that I never said, that I took for granted, and now . . . Now I'll never get another chance." Harry looked at Hermione, the sadness having returned to his eyes.

"I understand, Harry. I miss Sirius too. You never really know how much you'll miss someone, how important they are to you, until they're gone." Harry was silent, Hermione's words echoing through his mind. A sudden, chilling thought struck him, and his breath caught in his throat. During his stay at Privet Drive, he had received many letters from his friends, but hadn't been allowed to reply to any of them.

"H-Hermione?" Seeing the panicked look in his eyes, Hermione answered Harry immediately.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"The - the letters." It took most of Hermione's self-control to not panic right then and there. Quickly regaining control, she decided to play it safe; he may not have even been talking about those letters.

"W-What letters, Harry? I'm afraid I don't quite understand you." Hermione hoped with everything she had that her slight stutter went unnoticed.

"Ron's and Lupin's and Hagrid's, and everybody else's. I never answered any of them, and then they stopped coming, and everyone must hate me now - " Sensing Harry was working himself up, Hermione stopped him by pressing her hand over his mouth.

"Relax, Harry. No, nobody hates you," here she paused as a small smile lit her face, "although Ron certainly was getting somewhat annoyed with you." Seeing the same look on Harry's face, Hermione once again became serious. "Harry, Ron only stopped writing to you because he and the rest of the Weasleys went on a family vacation, to the States, I believe. It's not that he didn't want to write, he couldn't." Harry seemed slightly mollified, but not by much. Correctly guessing Harry's next question, Hermione pressed on. "And I'm guessing that, both being members of the Order, Lupin and Hagrid have been too busy with various assignments and missions and haven't had any time. Dumbledore practically told me so himself."

"Oh. Are - are you sure?"

"Yes Harry, I am sure." Harry was silent again, and Hermione relaxed, relieved she had apparently avoided the discussion of her un-received letters.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I - I'm sorry about not responding to your letters. I'm so sorry for whatever I put you through."

"Harry, it's okay, you don't need to apologize. I actually owe you an apology for that Howler I sent. I never should have. It's just, I let my emotions get the better of me, and I wasn't thinking clearly, and, well, sorry." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief in her head; they came close that time. Her heart was still pounding, and her stomach had flopped over a few times.

Harry and Hermione were once more passing by "their" bench, as Hermione was calling it, and out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed the homeless woman was gone. Before she had time to ponder over the matter, Harry spoke again. "Hermione, what was in those letters? It's just that, I still feel terrible about never properly responding, and since Vernon saw some of them, he obviously knew that what he made me write down would hurt you. Please, I just want to fix whatever went wrong." Hermione gulped as the churning returned worse than ever, and her heart seemed to shimmer and flutter.

"W-well, you see, Harry, it, um, really was, well, um, noth-nothing serious . . . I just totally overreacted . . . nothing at all, really." Mentally Hermione cursed herself for sounding so jumbled and nervous, but she could control it no better than she could control the weather. Realizing she was beginning to blush, she turned her head away from Harry and picked up her pace a little more, despite the aches in her tired legs.

Harry reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand, bringing them both to a stop. "Hermione, please? I don't want there to be anything between us. You're my friend. Possibly my best friend." When Hermione still wouldn't look at him, Harry moved in front of her, too quickly for her to react. "Hermione, please?"

Hermione finally made eye contact, and knew she had lost the battle. Resigning herself to fate, and hoping for the best, she drew a deep breath to clear her throat of all the lumps that seemed to have appeared. "O-Okay, Harry. I - I'm not sure how to say this." Hermione turned away and walked a few steps before facing Harry again. "Harry, we've known each other for almost five years now."

"Right."

"During that time, we've done a lot of things together, and had a lot of fun." Harry was silent, waiting for Hermione to continue. "And in that time, we've become very close friends, haven't we."

"Sometimes it seems like you know me better than myself," Harry responded with a small smile.

"You would tell me anything, right Harry?"

"Of course, Hermione," Harry said. `I guess that means I have to tell her the prophecy now,' Harry thought guiltily. "And, you would tell me anything, right?"

"Absolutely, Harry." Hermione sighed mentally. `Here goes.' Hermione crossed her fingers by her side. "This past year I've been doing a lot of thinking, and things have changed. A lot. You see, Harry, the thing is . . . I'm - I - I . . . I lo- "

"POTTER!!"

Harry froze and blanched, his skin becoming deathly pale. "No . . . It can't be. No . . ." Hermione spun in her tracks while cursing herself for forgetting her wand. Harry, on the other hand, turned slowly, trying to postpone the moment he knew would come. Soon the two teens were both face to face with the homeless woman they had seen on the bench. "A-Au-Aunt P-P-Petunia?"

Hermione looked from the woman to Harry, whose eyes were filled with an inhuman fear, and back to the woman. Hermione strained her memory to recall an image of Petunia Dursley, and when she compared her memories to the Petunia standing before her, there was little resemblance. Where Petunia Dursley had always prided herself on cleanliness almost to an abnormal level, the woman before them was wearing clothes that were days old and covered in filth and dirt. Her hair was unkempt and her eyes were red and swollen. Yet there was no mistaking her, she was Petunia Dursley.

"You! You - you - you vile mutt! You took everything from me! Everything!" At this, she flung her arm down and smashed her empty whisky bottle on the ground, shattering it to pieces. The motion and sound caused Harry to flinch and draw closer to Hermione, who stepped instinctively in font of him to shield him.

"What do you want with Harry? Haven't you done enough, you vile woman!" Hermione could scarcely control her rage at this . . . thing that had allowed Harry to suffer so much. Hermione noticed that Harry was clinging to her arm, and placed on of her hands on his for comfort. Harry responded by loosening his hold slightly and stepping more to her side than behind her.

"You shut up, you little whore!" Petunia reached to the pocket of the tattered jacket she was wearing and pulled out a pistol, pointing it forcefully at Hermione. Instantly, Hermione's brain froze up and her righteous fury burned out, leaving her feeling empty inside. Both Harry and Hermione took a small step back as Petunia advanced on them.

"You . . . You killed my husband . . . You killed Vernon!" Petunia was practically shouting, her eyes bulging and gleaming with madness. "I took you in, provided for you, cared for you, and you repay me by killing my family!" By this point tears were beginning to fall from her eyes. "You always hated us! Always! Is that why you did it, then?! Is that why you killed them?!" Harry shook his head, shaking all over.

"I suppose it wasn't enough, then, to just kill Vernon, was it, you filthy mutt? You had to take EVERYTHING away from me, didn't you! DIDN'T YOU!" Petunia took another step closer, waving the pistol around wildly. "You killed Vernon, then you KILLED MY DUDLEY!" The pistol began shaking with her hand. "You killed my family, took away my house and my money! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING!!!" Once again, all Harry could do was shake his head, too afraid to talk.

"Liar! You did it, and you know you did! But it's all right." Petunia paused a moment, apparently to calm herself down. "It's all right, because I'm going to kill you. I'm going to take away what you took from me; my life." Petunia trained the gun on Harry, her hand now steady and her demeanor one of almost complete calm except her eyes, her eyes that still held their madness. "I'll kill you, and your Hermi-whore."

Suddenly, Harry seemed to unfreeze; he could think and move again. He looked from Petunia and the gun that was aimed at him, to Hermione, who was shaking slightly and had a tear running down her cheek. He knew what he had to do before he even looked at Hermione. Harry took a deep breath, clenched his fists, and stepped forward in front of Hermione. "No, Petunia. Leave Hermione out of this. She had nothing to do with anything. Kill me, and me alone. She doesn't deserve to die."

"Harry, no! Don't!"

"Hermione, leave! Get out of here!"

"Oh, no you don't!" With a loud BLAM, Petunia fired the gun, and Harry moved without thinking to protect Hermione. He felt a sharp pain in his left arm, and pulling his hand away found blood.

Through gritted teeth Harry nearly shouted out, "Leave Hermione alone!" Petunia seemed to consider something for a while.

"Very well, then, mutt. I'll just kill you. Either way, it doesn't matter to me." Petunia took aim again, this time at Harry's chest. "Good-bye, filthy Mutt!" Harry closed his eyes and waited for the shot, to feel a sharp pain in his chest, or maybe he wouldn't feel anything at all. Petunia pulled the trigger and the bullet sped toward its target. Harry heard the shot and held his breath, waiting for his life to end.

Instead of a sharp pain, Harry felt a heavy weight on his chest and shoulders. Harry opened his eyes, and his heart stopped. He was looking down into Hermione's eyes, full of determination. A spasm of pain crossed her face before she whispered, "I - I'm sorry, Harry." Time seemed to freeze as Harry watched Hermione fall to the ground, their eyes never breaking contact. Harry could no longer hear anything over the sound of his heart hammering in his ears, could no longer breathe, could no longer think. All he saw was Hermione, falling. Hermione, lying still in the grass on her back, surrounded by a growing pool of red.

Harry fell to his knees, his body shaking and his heart throbbing. It just couldn't be . . . It couldn't . . . Hermione couldn't possibly be . . . She was . . . dead. Harry began to see red, and his breathing grew ragged. Harry heard something over the blood rushing through him, and looked up to see Petunia laughing. Laughing! Harry's face hardened. How DARE she laugh! Dimly, Harry heard Petunia speaking again.

"Well, it looks like I got my wish after all. Poor little Harry, did I kill your precious Hermi-whore? Whoops, how clumsy of me. So sorry. I suppose I should put you out of . . . your . . . misery." Petunia stopped at the sight before her. Harry had risen to his feet again, and was now trembling, but not in fear.

"You killed her." It was little more than a whisper, yet Petunia heard it just the same. "Hermione . . . You killed Hermione. You killed her." His voice started to raise, fury breaking through. "You killed her, you killed her, YOU KILLED HER!" Instantly, all the sounds of the park were gone, and the sky overhead darkened, heavy black clouds blocking out the sun. The air around Harry began shimmering, and a wave of heat erupted around him, shooting outward in all directions. Harry stepped in front of Hermione's prone form, and where his feet fell, the grass withered away as if consumed by a great fire.

"Yeah, so what about it? It's no better than what you and all the rest of your kind deserve!" At this point, dark red-black steam began wafting off Harry. "I'm glad I did it! I'd do it again if I could!" This was the breaking point for Harry. His aura finally burst through, dark red flames, almost black, leaping out of his skin and surrounding him, outlining him.

Petunia blinked, leveled her pistol, and fired once more at Harry with a mad smile on her face. Harry didn't even flex a single muscle as the bullet sped towards him. Harry's eyes seemed to blaze with the same fire that surrounded him, and focused on a point a foot in front of his forehead, where the bullet had stopped in mid-flight, still spinning. Suddenly, the bullet burst into flames, and disappeared in a small cloud of ash. Petunia stepped back, fear outlined on her face this time. "W-What are you?" She raised the gun again, pointing it shakily at Harry's form.

BLAM! BLAM BLAM BLAMBLAMBLAM! Petunia kept firing and firing at Harry, stepping back as Harry advanced on her, until finally she heard a -click-. The clip was empty, and as Petunia looked up from the useless firearm to Harry's approaching form, the last of the bullets floating in front of Harry evaporated into nothing, just as the first one had. The ground behind Harry was scorched black and bare, a literal path of destruction.

"S-stay away! Leave me alone!" Petunia tripped and fell down, and was soon scrambling wildly, trying to crawl away from Harry. Not knowing what else to do, she threw the spent pistol at Harry, which exploded in the air after it had hardly left her hands. With a terrified yelp, Petunia scooted back even faster, until she hit the solid trunk of a tree and could go no further. Harry stopped as well, just over two meters away. Harry raised his arm and pointed it straight at Petunia, much as he had done with Lucius Malfoy several days earlier. The aura around the hand started to pulse, faster and faster, until a chunk of it seemed to break off and form a dense ball floating in air.

Petunia's eyes widened in realization, and she tried to press herself into the tree, perhaps in the hope she could pass through it. "P-please, don't kill me! Spare me! I didn't mean to! Please, don't KILL ME!!" If anything, the anger in Harry's eyes blazed stronger as his will hardened, and the ball of energy seemed to grow slightly.

"You ruined my life, and killed my friend . . . now you die." With that, the ball sped forth, a dark beacon of death. The ball got closer and closer, seeming to scream through the air as it went. All of a sudden, with a loud ringing GONG, the ball was deflected to the left where it hit a nearby tree, which glowed brightly for a moment, before exploding violently. In front of where Petunia was cowering was a cracked golden shield, which soon broke into pieces and disappeared, revealing its owner standing behind it, breathing heavily.

"Harry, don't! Don't sink to her level!" Harry glared at the interloper, and the flames surrounding him magnified in height and intensity.

"Move, Dumbledore. Do NOT stand in my way!"

"No, Harry. I won't move. I won't let you do this to yourself!" Harry flung his hand out at Dumbledore, who was barely able to conjure up another shield before the energy wave hit, and even then he was pushed back a meter. As his shield once more dissolved, Dumbledore fell on one knee, panting. Dumbledore looked up pleadingly at Harry. "Harry, if you kill her, you are no better than her!"

"I don't care. Don't you see, Hermione's dead! Nothing matters now!" Harry swung his arm as if swatting at a fly, and Dumbledore was sent flying through the air to be pinned bodily against a large oak tree.

"H-Harry! Harry, let me down!" But Harry wasn't listening to Dumbledore. Harry had walked over to Petunia, who once again started scrambling for her life. Just as she managed to get up and started running, her legs snapped together and she fell flat on her face. Using her arms, she crawled as fast as she could, as far as she could get. Reaching her limit, she pushed off the ground in order to turn around in order to look behind her. Harry was standing directly over her. Giving up, Petunia rolled over onto her back, looking at Harry with tears flowing from her eyes, whimpering slightly.

Harry once more held out his hand and created a dark ball of energy. Holding it point-blank from Petunia's face, Harry said, "This time, I won't miss."

"Harry! HARRY!!" Dumbledore managed to free his left arm, and waving his hand broke the bindings Harry had cast on him. Before Dumbledore touched the ground he had Apparated right next to Harry. "Harry, wait! Hermione's alive!" Harry froze, his eyes losing their fire. Harry looked at Dumbledore, bemused.

"What?"

"Hermione; she's still alive. But not by much. Harry, if you insist upon revenging yourself upon Petunia, then Hermione will die. However, if you act now, and quickly, you can still save her life." Seeing no immediate reaction, Dumbledore pressed again. "Harry, hurry!"

"Hermione . . ." The ball of energy disintegrated as little orbs of light broke off and floated up, disappearing in the air. The fires surrounding Harry died down, and his arm fell limp to his side. "Hermione!" Harry spun on his heel, and before he had even stopped rotating he had vanished. Letting out a sigh of relief, Dumbledore looked over to Hermione's still form, where Harry was kneeling. Looking back at Petunia, he remarked, "Let us hope that he is able to save her, otherwise not even I will be able to save you."

As Harry leaned closer to Hermione's body, he saw that she was indeed breathing, if not unevenly. Harry reached down and gingerly lifted her head up onto his knees, and as he did Harry saw the bullet wound on her back, just below her left shoulder. "What do I do, Hermione? What do I do?" Harry sniffed and kept back a sob. "You always know what to do. You've always been there when I needed you, and now when you need me, I can't do a thing." A single tear rolled down his cheek. Suddenly, Hermione shuddered, almost a spasm.

"No, you can't go. Please, you can't!" Harry leaned closer as first one tear, than another fell. "You can't go, I need you! Hermione, you're my everything; I'm lost without you! I love you!" Harry froze. Had he really just said that? His breath was caught in his throat, and his heart seemed to have stopped beating. Was it true? Did he really love Hermione? `Look at the clues, Harry. It's all there.' Harry's eyes widened; it was the voice, the voice that had kept him sane and safe as long as it had. Harry finally recognized whose voice it was: Hermione's. All at once, everything made sense to Harry; the fear of losing Hermione, feeling at peace with her, the tingling sensations, and his visions of her. He knew; Harry knew he loved Hermione, without a doubt.

Another spasm from Hermione brought Harry back to the present, and to the fact that the woman he loved lay dying in his arms. "Hermione, no! Don't go!" Harry shouted through his sobs, for he was crying freely now; he knew there was nothing he could really do. "H-Hermione . . ." He rested his forehead against hers, and his tears fell on her cheeks. `I may not be able to save her, but, I can at least have a final kiss . . .' Harry closed his eyes, trying his best to push down the erupting misery. He lowered his head, and gently pressed his lips to Hermione's.

As Dumbledore watched, he lowered his eyes to give Harry his final moments in privacy. Dumbledore was halfway through his inspection of a suddenly fascinating leaf when a great light began to shine. Dumbledore looked up quickly, and had to shield his eyes while they adjusted. When he finally was able to see, Dumbledore stood transfixed. Before him, Harry and Hermione (Harry still kissing Hermione) were pouring off a bright, white light that seemed to pulse, much like the flames around Harry had done earlier. Dumbledore noticed that Harry's hair seemed to be blowing about, yet there was no breeze. The light kept growing and growing, and soon Dumbledore realized that it wasn't pure white, but rather a multitude of colors, all mixing together in glorious harmony. Almost as abruptly as it began, the light went out, and Dumbledore was left momentarily blind.

Harry wasn't sure how long he held the kiss, and he didn't care. It was to be his first, only, and last kiss with Hermione, so why should it be short? Harry let himself go, let himself get taken up in the experience, in the feeling of kissing Hermione. He was unaware, therefore, when Hermione deepened the kiss. He was aware, however, when a pair of arms wrapped around his neck. Harry pulled away, looking unbelievingly, confounded at the smiling face of Hermione. "Y-you're alive . . . . You're alive!" Harry's face split into a huge grin, and he pulled Hermione tight. "YOU'RE ALIVE!" Harry could barely contain the joy and exhilaration he felt, and as he pulled out of the embrace, he couldn't help but keep saying "You're alive," over and over again, until Hermione reached up with one hand and clamped it over his mouth

"Harry?" Hermione lifter her hand so he could reply.

"Yes, Hermione?" Hermione covered his mouth again to prevent him from continuing his chant.

"Shut up and kiss me again." Hermione shifted her hand from Harry's mouth to his hair as their lips met again, and the rest of the world faded away.

Petunia sat up, and glared at the two. `I killed that freak! Why is she still alive?' Unnoticed by Dumbledore, Petunia scrambled to her feet, the Leg-Locker curse having disappeared when Harry stopped his attack. From one of her many torn and tattered pockets, she pulled out a gleaming six-inch kitchen knife. She began a mad dash at the two teens, shouting at the top of her voice, "Damn you freaks, why won't you die?!" Harry and Hermione looked up just in time to see Petunia leap savagely at them, knife drawn, a demented grin on her face. Hermione grabbed Harry's left arm in fear, while Harry, acting on instinct, threw up his right arm as if to protect them.

With a resounding THUMP, Petunia crashed into an invisible barrier, losing her grip on the knife, and was sent flying back several meters. When she landed (on her back), she looked up dazed, before she began screaming as the knife, which was thrown back with her, began its descent. Hermione buried her head in Harry's shoulder while Harry looked on in grim satisfaction as the knife landed with a sickening sound smack in the middle of Petunias forehead, ending her scream and her life. The dark clouds finally disappeared from the sky, and the sounds of the park resumed playing, while Harry and Hermione sat and stared at the dead corpse of Petunia Dursley.

Harry heard the sounds of someone drawing near, and drew Hermione close to him in a protective position, while turning to face this new threat, only to find Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked down sadly at Harry before speaking softly, "Harry, I'm terribly sorry. If only I could have gotten here sooner." Harry looked back at his dead aunt, then back at Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore, sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I - I'm sorry, for what I did to you. I - I wasn't in control. And, thank you; thank you for stopping me. You were right." Harry looked away from Dumbledore, as if he was ashamed.

"Harry, no apologies needed. I understand completely. Besides, no serious damage was done." Dumbledore paused and looked around. "Well, maybe there was some damage." Harry looked up, and noticed some of the twinkle was back in Dumbledore's eyes.

"B-but what about my Aunt?" The twinkle vanished, and Dumbledore heaved a large sigh.

"I'm afraid that, after the loss of her family and most of her possessions, Petunia Dursley went quite insane."

"Does - does that mean that . . . that . . ."

"Yes, Harry. I'm afraid that Dudley Dursley is indeed dead."

"How." Harry appeared almost calm, yet Dumbledore knew what was going on behind the mask. Harry had just lost his family, and while they had mistreated him, they were his family.

"It wasn't Voldemort, I assure you. No, in some ways, Dudley's death was more tragic; it was from his own doing." At this Hermione barely managed to stifle a gasp, and Harry's eyes widened, clearly not expecting this. Dumbledore bowed his head before continuing. "When Vernon was killed, both Dudley and Petunia took the loss hard. Petunia, however, remained strong if for nothing more than for her son. Dudley, however, was completely depressed. One night, Dudley went out with his gang, and drunk himself to death. He died on July 18th, at two in the morning, of alcohol poisoning." Harry's only response was to nod once, his features grim.

"With Dudley's death so soon after Vernon's, and the costs of the funerals and burials, Petunia was left with very little. The scant amount she did have, she spent on alcohol, and went in search of you, Harry, attempting revenge. That is how she came to be here." Dumbledore had walked over and was kneeling next to Petunia's body. When he finished talking, Dumbledore vanished the knife and closed her eyes.

"But, how do you know?" Dumbledore turned and looked at Hermione.

"As soon as I saw the double obituary of Vernon and Dudley, I made it my business to know. Using certain . . . methods . . . I was able to attain the information I just presented to you." Dumbledore looked long and hard at Harry before speaking again. "Understand, Harry, that you had in no way any involvement in these happenings. Everything that happened did so because of the Dursleys' own faults. Vernon's greed brought Malfoy to him, Dudley's continual substance abuse set him up perfectly, and Petunia's inability to handle the situation caused her to snap. Do not blame yourself. For once, it isn't your fault in the slightest."

Dumbledore stood to rise, and invited Harry and Hermione to do so as well. Harry was up first, but began to wobble. Before he lost his balance, Hermione was there supporting him. Harry looked once more upon Petunia's lifeless body, before turning to the aged Professor and asking, "Dumbledore, sir, what are we going to do with . . . her? We can't just leave her here. It's, it's not right."

"You're right, Harry. I will take care of the matter, don't worry. I'll call the police, and tell them that she tried to attack me, and was killed in self-defense. You and Hermione can go on back to your home. You've dealt with enough." They both looked as if they were about to protest. "Please, you two. Let me do this as a favor, for all that I've failed to do." Harry and Hermione shared a look, an entire conversation taking place at once. It was Hermione that addressed Dumbledore.

"All right, Professor. And, thank you." With a solemn nod from Dumbledore, Harry and Hermione set off, hand in hand. When they had rounded the bend and were approaching the gates, Hermione looked down at their entwined hands, then back up at Harry. "Harry . . ." Harry looked down expectantly. "I love you, too."

A/N: Ooookay! There you go, after (counts on fingers) three months, I finally got my act together! Okay, not really, I've been working on this for the entire three months. I told you guys that Spring was the worst time for me. It was just one thing after another. I am happy to say that one of my many distractions (the most pleasant one) involves a change in lifestyle; I GOT ME A GIRLFRIEND!!! Yes, it's true! I could go on and on for hours about her, but, you don't give a right rat's ass. Suffice to say, I'm a very happy boy.

Anyway, when Summer finally rolled around, I was digging up fence posts and replacing a fence, so that kept me busy. But, I hope it was worth it, because this monster tops off at just over 12000 words. Biggest on yet!

Sadly, I have to end with this note: tomorrow (Friday the 24th) I am leaving for Interlochen. For those of you who don't know what Interlochen is, it's like boot camp for musicians. It'll be hella-fun, the only bad part is there's no internet connection. I'm signed up for six weeks, soooo . . . See ya in August! I'm outta here!


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