Invaded Escape by Pannalid

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 16/02/2005
Last Updated: 02/03/2005
Status: Completed

Hermione's POV in DigitalFeonix's "Dreamscape." Why does Hermione all of a
sudden feel like she's not the only one controlling her dreams anymore? And how on earth can
that be affecting her and Harry in real life?




1. Chapter One
--------------

**Disclaimer:**

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various
publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books,
and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is
intended.

**Note:**

As the summary says, this is Hermione's point of view in Dreamscape by DigitalFeonix. I asked right away if I would be
able to do Hermione's POV, and thankfully he said yes. He has a lot of patience, with all the
stuff he's put up with coming from me, so a big round of applause for him! Any review is much
appreciated!

This is my first story posted on Portkey, so please bear with me.

**----**

**Chapter 1**

"Hermione... Hermione! Herm, wake up!"

Hermione rolled over in her bed, trying desperately to ignore Ginny's calls. She rolled her
pillow over her ears to try to block out the voice. Without knowing it, Ginny had woken her up from
one of the best --

"I heard you last night."

Hermione sat straight up in her bed. "What do you mean, you 'heard me last
night'?"

Ginny giggled as she sat on her bed opposite Hermione's. "You'll have to tell me
all about what was going on, because it seemed to be pretty... *intense*."

Hermione felt her face turning a brilliant shade of red as she stood up. "Goodness, this is
embarrassing." Ginny didn't say anything; she just sat and smirked up at her friend.
"Is it breakfast time?" Hermione asked, trying to break the uneasy tension.

Ginny stood up as well, and made her way over to the door. "Yeah, it is. But don't
think you're getting away from telling me about that dream, 'Mione. You and Harry did
something, and I want to know what it was!"

Hermione stood up to follow Ginny, the blush unwilling to leave her cheeks. Trying to put on a
casual sort of voice, she asked, "What exactly did you hear me saying last night that got you
so interested?"

"Oh, it wasn't words so much as incoherent moaning, darling," Ginny replied with a
vicious grin.

Hermione froze on the landing, causing Ginny to stop halfway down the stairs and stare back up
at her. Regaining control of her body, Hermione called down to Ginny to come back to the room.

Ginny gleefully obeyed, seemingly knowing what was going to happen next.

Hermione sat back down on the bed. "Okay. I had a dream about me and Harry last
night."

"I know."

"But that's not it. I mean..." Hermione trailed off as the pink in her cheeks
brightened. "I've.. I've had these - those - types of dreams before--"

"What types of dreams?"

Hermione glared at Ginny. "You're just *trying* to kill me, aren't
you?"

Ginny innocently shrugged.

"Anyway," Hermione continued, ignoring Ginny's question, "I've had those
dreams before with me and him, but last night was different. I can't explain how," she
said quickly, seeing Ginny's mouth open, "but it was. It was almost like it was real life
or something, you know? Like he was actually there."

Ginny was silent for a moment. "That's peculiar. I mean, everyone has those dreams -
have you heard Ron talking about his with Luna? But, for it to feel like he was actually there, I
don't--"

"Girls! Breakfast!"

Mrs. Weasley's call didn't interrupt their conversation. As the girls made their way
downstairs, they kept talking in a hushed whisper, trying to figure everything out.

Ron entered the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, followed closely by Harry. At his arrival, Ginny and
Hermione quickly stopped muttering on instinct, as did everyone else in the room. Looking tired,
Harry scanned the room quickly before settling down in his usual chair beside Ron and opposite
Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to speak. "Did you sleep well, dear?"

Hermione looked closely at Harry as he began to load scrambled eggs onto his plate. "For
the first time in a long time, yeah."

"So no more, erm... nightmares, Harry?" Hermione asked. Nervous as she was to talk to
him, even though he would have no idea about her dream, Harry's case of insomnia was a concern
for everyone.

Harry shrugged as he looked up at her. "Actually, I did have one last night. Then I used
one of Snape's suggestions. Imagine my surprise when it worked, and I had a very, uh..."
His voice trailed off as he looked back down at his plate, his face colouring slightly. "Erm,
a pleasant dream."

"So... What was this great dream about Harry?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged again, not taking his eyes off of his eggs. "Nothing really important. Just
some, erm... personal stuff," he said quickly before eating.

Hermione's mouth fell open. Ginny quickly looked over at her before slapping her hand over
her mouth, holding in laughter, while Ron just laughed at the idea. Hermione grabbed the closest
thing to her, the *Daily Prophet*, and promptly covered her extremely red face.

"That's alright, Harry, dear. You don't have to say anymore," Hermione heard
Mrs. Weasley say from near the stove.

"Yes," Hermione choked out, still hiding behind the newspaper, "it's
perfectly natural. Everyone has those kind of dreams. Right *Ron*?" she said harshly when
she noticed that the red-head still hadn't stopped laughing.

Ron stopped laughing. "So, what's on today's agenda?" he said quickly,
obviously trying to change the subject.

"Homework," Hermione put in, finally having the courage to put the newspaper away. She
stole a glance at Harry, who had a rather large grin on his face.

"I think I'll actually enjoy that today."

Hermione blushed.

----

Hermione looked around the room at Harry and Ron, who were both still scratching quill to
parchment for Professor McGonagall's summer essay. Of course, she had finished hers the week
before, but she took it on as her personal duty to ensure that the boys finished their homework,
and did it well to boot.

Her eyes settled on Harry. He was sitting plainly on the floor, tapping the fingers of his
unused hand on the carpet, as if trying to come up with an idea. He scratched his head next.
Hermione looked somewhat lovingly at the unruly locks atop of his head, remembering the dream and
how she had run her hands through it a countless number of times. Hermione's smile widened at
the thought.

Harry's quill began to move once again, quickly, as though to get all of the idea down
before it left his head. He looked up at her, and smiled.

"I'm proud of you, Harry," Hermione said spontaneously. "You didn't
complain once about the essay, unlike *some* people." Her head flipped towards Ron, who
had no more than 5 lines down on his parchment.

"Yeah, well, I realized that studying isn't *that* bad..." Harry trailed off.
Hermione looked back around at him, blushing slightly, and gave him a huge smile. Just looking at
him increased the pink tinge in her cheeks. 'Why, *why*, must I blush?' she thought to
herself as she turned her head towards Ron, who obviously needed some help.

----

Hermione looked up as Harry closed the door to the sitting room she, Ron, and Ginny were
lounging in. "Hey Harry," she said, "how was Occlumency?"

Harry came and sat down with a huge grin on his face. "It was amazing. I might not have
another lesson for about twenty years... But it was well worth it."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Harry, what did you do? Did you abuse the power? Because
you're putting yourself in grave danger if you don't take Occlumency and Legilemency
seriously!"

Harry shook his head, still smiling widely. "I took it completely seriously, 'Mione,
don't you worry. Snape just can't handle a little imagination."

"Amen to that," sighed Ron.

----

Hermione's eyes slowly opened as she felt a hand playing with her hair. She immediately knew
what was going on - she'd be able to recognize that salty smell in the air almost anywhere. She
waited for the kisses on her neck, the ones she loved so much. They came, and quickly Hermione
began to moan quietly. The heated kisses moved from her neck to her shoulders, which elicited even
more noise from the back of Hermione's throat. The best part was yet to come, and suddenly she
felt a hot breath on her ear, one that began suckling on her earlobe quickly, just the way she
liked it.

With a groan, Hermione turned over to find herself face to face with Harry. It was like a
well-written play, and she knew everything that came next. With a coy, and what she hoped to be
sexy, grin, she wrapped her hand around the back of Harry's neck, and slowly pulled him toward
her, watching the smile on Harry's face widen. She began to kiss him fully, with as much
passion and lust as she could muster. He lowered herself on to her, and she gasped inwardly once
she could feel her breasts brushing against his hard chest. Drawing little patterns along his
spine, Hermione let her fingers trail up his back to their final destination, where they wrapped
themselves intimately into his messy locks. Their tongues played and battled, dancing erotically in
their mouths.

As if on cue, Harry's hands began to roam freely along her body, brushing up against her
arms, then her slim waist, and farther down her sides until he couldn't reach any more.
Hermione slowly pulled away from the kiss, timidly opening her eyes to look into the darkened
emerald ones above her.

"A girl could get used to waking up like this," she heard herself say, followed by a
comfortable moan.

Harry grinned as his hands went from her thighs to her naked chest. Cupping her breasts fully in
his hands, he began to run the pad of his thumb over her nipples, hardening them on contact.
Hermione squirmed, eyes shutting immediately, sighing in encouragement. Another flick of his
fingers had Hermione arching her back for more of his touch, her head way back on the pillow.

Harry chuckled in a deep, husky voice, only arousing Hermione even more. He lowered his head,
and Hermione felt his mouth cover her breast. His tongue began to flicker against her nipple,
causing Hermione to cry out, arching her back even more, as though to feel Harry more fully.

Hermione felt him grin as he switched to her other breast, administering the same affection
there as well.

The noises coming from Hermione's mouth were hardly even recognizable to her and Harry
refused to let up. Her animalistic instincts were creating low growls deep in her throat.

Suddenly, Harry stopped. He lifted his head from her chest, breathing as heavily as she herself
was. He climbed up her body so they were face to face, and Hermione took the opportunity to wrap
her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Biting her lip, she asked, "Why did you
stop?"

A concentrated look screwed up Harry's face. His nose wrinkled as he seemingly forced his
mouth open. "You know that I love you, right?"

Hermione ceased smiling. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. There wasn't usually any
loving talk in this dream, just their love in action.

She raised her eyebrows in question, all while rubbing Harry's back in an almost maternal
fashion. "Of course I do. We wouldn't be here if I didn't, right?" When
Harry's look of concentration didn't let up, she tried to soothe him again. "Love is
why we're here, baby, you don't have to worry about that."

Harry shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. Again, he forced his mouth open. "Even if
it seems silly, I still feel that I have to tell you..." He opened his eyes. "I love you
Hermione. I have always loved you, even if I didn't realize it. I just hope you know how
much."

As affronted as she was about the interruption in their well-written escapade, she smiled at his
touching confession. She could feel the girly instinctual tears welling up in her eyes, but she
quickly pushed them away. As touching as this was, she was *not* going to cry. "Yes, I
think I've got an idea."

The smile on her face seemed to soothe Harry, as he bent his head back down to her neck. "I
enjoy doing the simplest little things with you." His kisses moved lower, down her chest and
in the valley between her breasts. "Like just watching you while you study..." He kissed
her bellybutton. "...Or sleep."

A heavy groan escaped her before Hermione began to slowly push Harry's head down her body.
Now everything was getting back on track. "Well, then prove it to me, and get back to work,
Mr. Potter!"

Harry smiled up at her. "Yes, Mrs. Potter."

Hermione tilted her head back up to the ceiling, smiling to herself. Yet, once she prepared
herself for the delightful feelings her body was about to endure, the weight on top of her suddenly
left. Harry was gone.



2. Chapter Two
--------------

**Disclaimer:**

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various
publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books,
and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is
intended.

**----**

**Chapter 2**

Hermione woke with a start, still laying down, but eyes flashing open. What had happened? Why
had Harry all of a sudden left? And right after that sincere confession of his love, too? Hermione
sat up in bed, the springs creaking slightly. The quiet movement was enough to wake Ginny, who
slowly opened her eyes.

"What are you doing up, 'Mione?" she asked sleepily.

Hermione gave a half-hearted smile. "You're a light sleeper, aren't you?"

Ginny decided not to answer the question, but concentrate on the sad look on Hermione's
face. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Hermione sighed and turned her head to face the window. "Oh, Gin, you're going to think
I'm the most daft female alive. I swear, sometimes I'm worse than Luna."

Ginny sat up. "What happened?"

"Well... I had another dream again. Except it was one of my other dreams... Goodness, this
is hard. I have certain... regular dreams in which everything happens exactly the same each time.
Tonight, I had my one about me and Harry's honeymoon. We're in this tropical hut and
everything smells like salt water, and you can hear the ocean's waves from the room..."
Hermione trailed off, taking a tentative look at Ginny, and was encouraged by the look of rapt
attention on her face. She took another breath. "Well, usually, this dream is just very... How
do I put this?... Oh bother, it's very *sexual*, as in we don't talk at all. But this
time, it was like Harry couldn't help but talk. He went on and on about his feelings for me,
and how much he loved me... Don't get me wrong, I loved it, and I wish it were real, but
it's just so off the beaten path for that dream."

"Wow," exclaimed Ginny softly.

"That's not all," said Hermione, shaking her head. "Right after he finished
talking, and we were... getting back down to business... He just disappeared. Like he Disapparated,
or something. I can't explain it. One second he was there, and the next, he just
wasn't."

"Wow," Ginny said again.

Hermione sighed. She had never been so embarrassed in her life. "I know, it's stupid
and daft, but I just can't real--"

Hermione stopped talking when she heard someone creeping in the hall outside of her and
Ginny's bedroom. Ginny pressed her ear against the wall.

"Maybe it's Harry," she suggested, pulling away. "Go find out!"

Hermione sputtered her objections, but Ginny's look of scepticism silenced her. "Why
not? It's not as though he knows about your dreams. And anyway, he probably needs a friend
right about now, if he's creeping around the house at this ungodly hour."

Hermione nodded, and with a breath, quickly exited the room. Looking to her left, she saw the
end of a body slipping behind one of the many tapestries that decorated the mansion's
walls.

Swallowing hard, Hermione followed the body, folding back the heavy tapestry to find a narrow
set of stairs. Not knowing what she would find at the top, she started up the steps carefully and
quietly. At the top, a small, circular room came into view, with a large window effectively
lighting the room with a full view of the moon. There was a desk and a chair, and a medium-sized
bookcase, filled completely with large and dusty volumes.

In front of the window stood Harry, looking almost serene surrounded by the bright moonlight,
sipping on something in a mug.

Hermione was extremely afraid of barging in on something private, but with timid steps,
remembered what Ginny had said - he probably needed a friend. Quietly, she made her way towards
him, and before she could lose any courage, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

She felt him tense slightly under her grip. "Are you okay, Harry?" she asked, before
he could turn around and hex her into oblivion.

Harry's shoulder relaxed, seemingly at the knowledge that she was with him. "I thought
it was you," he said extremely quietly, almost to quiet for Hermione to hear. "No, not
really," he replied, "but I will be."

Hermione took her hand from his shoulder, not moving from her place just as he didn't move
from his. "...Was it another nightmare?"

He shook his head. "No... A dream, not a nightmare." He took a breath. "Let's
just say it was, erm... thought-provoking, and leave it at that. After last year, I've learned
I really need to think things through instead of just reacting."

Hermione diverted her eyes at his mentioning of the year previous, even though he wasn't
looking at her. It was a sensitive subject that Ron and Hermione had decided they wouldn't
bring up until Harry did, and he had yet to seem comfortable talking about it.

Taking the initiative, Hermione placed a hand on Harry's back as she walked up and around to
face him. She looked into his eyes and held in a gasp. The usually guarded orbs of emerald green
now looked so worried, so scared, so... open. Never, other than various times in their first year,
had Hermione ever seen her friend so vulnerable to everything. She never doubted his bravery, but
there were times where she wondered if he was even human, the way he held in so much emotion.
Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of his, finally realizing that he was just like her.

"Thank you, 'Mione," he said suddenly.

Hermione was taken aback. "What for?"

"For simply being there for me." Harry shrugged again, a pink tinge staining his
cheeks. "You'll never know how much it means to me."

Hermione was touched. She felt tears stinging in her eyes, but not wanting to be that typical
female, she held them back. Placing her head on his shoulder, she said quietly, "I
wouldn't be anywhere else," and pulled him into a soft sideways hug. Almost immediately,
she felt his arm go around her shoulder.

No sound permeated their existence, except for Harry occasionally sipping from his mug. For a
fleeting moment, Hermione realized whatever was in the cup smelled faintly like her beloved vanilla
shampoo.

----

Waking up the next morning was a tiresome task for Hermione. She vaguely remembered being woken
up by Ginny earlier in the morning, but enough foul language had come from her mouth for the red
head to leave her alone for the time being.

"Hermione Jane Granger, get up *now*! You've slept in *so* late! You're
going to sleep the entire day if you don't get out of bed *this instant*!"

Hermione groaned into her pillow. "What time is it?"

"It's 9:30, *thankyouverymuch*, and I'm extremely hungry, but mom refuses to
serve breakfast without you and Harry there, so let's *go*!"

Hermione sat up slightly. "Harry's not there either?"

Ginny leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms, a smirk crossing her face, replacing
her expression of utter anger. "No, he's not. And believe me, it's looks highly
suspicious!"

Hermione wanted more than ever to stay within the warm confines of her blankets, but Ginny's
last comment struck a chord. "Well, you weren't up when I got back last night, so I
wasn't able to tell you what happened," she said in an effort to defend herself.

"Well, then, tell me later; I'm too hungry to listen at the moment. Get dressed,
*please*!"

And Hermione did just that, mumbling her protests at the extreme lack of sleep she had received.
Ginny just grinned, perhaps at the look of anguish on Hermione's face.

The girls entered the kitchen, where they were automatically accompanied by Mrs. Weasley and
Ron. Mrs. Weasley smiled at the pair, while Ron and his unruly bed-head nodded in recognition of
the two.

"Look at you, dearie, you don't seem to have slept at all last night, do you?"
Mrs. Weasley asked in a concerned voice.

Hermione gave a half-smile. "It was a slightly rough night. But I'm fine," she
added hastily, responding to the alarmed look on the caregiver's face.

Hermione sat down and readily accepted a hot mug of coffee. After applying the right amount of
sugars and cream, she sat down in her usual chair, closing her eyes and hoping to be awoken by the
strong fumes of caffeine. Just then, Harry walked into the room, looking as tired as Hermione felt.
He sat in his spot across from her, and gave her a smile, which she would have loved to return, but
she was too tired. He mouthed "I'm sorry," which Hermione took as an apology for
keeping her up the night before. 'As if he needs to apologize for me being near him,' she
thought, and quickly dismissed it with a wave of her hand.

Hermione wasn't that hungry, and was completely content with her mug of coffee, so she
ignored the food on the table and concentrated on the cup in front of her.

"Didn't sleep well either last night dear?" She heard Mrs. Weasley ask Harry a
fair few minutes later. Looking up, she noticed his half-eaten plate before Mrs. Weasley cleared
it. Apparently, Harry wasn't that hungry either.

Harry placed his elbow on the table and leaned his chin on his hand. "No. I guess two
restful nights is too much to ask for."

Hermione mimicked Harry's stature and placed her chin on her hand. Her eyes kept flickering
towards him. He was just sitting plainly, looking out towards the kitchen door, moving his hands to
rest in between his thighs. Her thoughts were brought back to last night and his spontaneous
thank-you. He really hadn't been himself lately, and frankly, it was driving Hermione mad.

It wasn't like Harry didn't have a reason to block everyone out and act like a brooding
hippogriff sometimes; Hermione was well aware of all the pressure put on him by the entire
wizarding society, as well as his aunt and uncle and their rudeness. Plus, he had had a rough year
at school, and that wasn't even delving into what happened at the Ministry. Or Sirius. But
sometimes, it still see--

"'Mione, what are you doing?"

Hermione shook herself out of her reverie to face the confronting Ginny. "Pardon?"

"You're zoning out on us," she whispered.

Hermione scratched her head. "Sorry about that..." she muttered quietly. After a
second, though, she decided to quietly excuse herself. Hermione cleared her plate and made her way
to her bedroom.

She had had an amazing time the night before, even if no one else could understand it. She could
hardly understand it herself - why, exactly, had last night been so comforting? It didn't take
much hard thinking for Hermione to come up with the answer. 'He was almost normal last
night,' she thought as she laid down on her bed, 'he put all the masks down for a moment,
and I could see who he really was.'

Just then, Ginny entered the room. Quietly, as though not to wake anyone up despite the lack of
sleep in the room, she made her way over to her bed, sat down, and stared at Hermione.
"What's up." It was said as a statement, not a question, as though Hermione had no
choice but to answer.

It took the brown-haired girl a couple of minutes to come up with what she was trying to
say.

"Haven't... Haven't you noticed that Harry's been acting differently all
summer? Like, different than usual?"

Ginny gave Hermione a patronising look. "Listen, 'Mione, he kind of saw his own
godfather die not too long ago, I wouldn't think that's all too hard to
understa--"

"Yes, yes, I get that," Hermione said impatiently. "I just thought that maybe...
I guess he'd be able to share it with us, you know? His best friends. It's what we're
here for, isn't it?" Hermione didn't give time for Ginny to respond before she carried
on. "And I know that whole idea of 'being there for them even if they don't need to
talk, maybe they just need someone there,' I get that... But sometimes I just want to slap him.
I just want to tell him that maybe he'd feel better if he got it all out. I don't know if
he understands that sometimes that's what helps the most: to find an emotional escape like
that."

Hermione took a large breath. "For instance: his birthday party. Do you remember what he
was like when he walked into the room, and saw all the presents? He just scowled, Gin, like he
didn't want any of them. He scowled as though he thought us stupid because we thought that
anything might cheer him up! And what did he say, exactly? 'How can you lot be concentrating on
material things when people are dying? When you lot die, will you care about what you got for your
birthday?' Isn't that exactly what he said? That's not something the old Harry would
have said, even if he was thinking it. He would've taken into account all the effort we put in
to trying to find things he'd like. He wouldn't just ignore the thought and blow up at us
for trying to guess what's in his head. It's stuff like that he needs to talk
about!"

Ginny listened quietly, contemplating what was being said. "Well... I guess you know Harry
better than I do, but there are different types of people, Herm. There are the types that like to
talk, and the ones that don't. You know that Sirius is a very delicate subject. Harry himself
is delicate, to be honest."

Hermione sighed, looking out the window. "I know." She paused. "Sometimes...
Sometimes I think what's going through his head is a lot worse than what any of us think it
is."

Ginny didn't say anything. Hermione took this as her cue to continue.

"Sometimes I think that he's thinking of things that we would never expect him to.
Things that no one would expect of the great Harry Potter, the great Boy Who Lived. He hates the
fact that there seems to be this standard set for him, as though he's this great warrior
automatically ready to head into battle, emotionally detached, and extremely set on his goal.
Because that's not what it's like, I can assure you that. Everyone expects him to be ready
and willing, but I don't think he is."

"What do you mean?" asked Ginny quietly.

"Last night, when I followed him, it *was* him, by the way, he went up to a hidden
spot where I think he's been hiding all summer. He was just standing there, looking out a
window, sipping on whatever he was sipping on. He just seemed so much calmer there, as though it
was his escape. I'm afraid he's a bit of an insomniac, Gin. I'm afraid that he
doesn't sleep at all because of what's going through his head. I'm afraid the dark
things going through his head are consuming him, night and day."

Ginny was wide-eyed. "Wh-what..." She cleared her throat. "What do you think
these dark things are?"

Hermione averted her eyes to the window, trying to hide the tears that were appearing. "Oh,
I don't know. I'm afraid he thinks he's going to die. I'm afraid he thinks he's
ready to die. Or that he *needs* to die. Or that he wants to die. I'm afraid he wants to
die, Ginny."

----

She was the only one in the stands, yet again. Searching the skies, it only took her a couple of
seconds to find the lone flyer, as well. She watched, like she always did, as he turned abruptly to
his right, and suddenly cut down towards the pitch. Down, down, down he went, and Hermione watched
in horror as Harry's look of concentration turned to fear as he realized he couldn't
control his broom as such speeds.

Hermione lost sight of him over the barrier boards, but she knew what had happened. Quickly,
with blurry vision because of her tears, she tore down the stadium steps, two at a time, and ran
towards Harry, screeching his name at the top of her lungs. Harry was lying down, muttering
something to himself, his eyes screwed up in pain.

Not regarding the obvious state of pain he was in, Hermione jumped on Harry, taking him into her
arms.

"...Hermione..." she heard him wheeze underneath her, "'Mione, I'll be
fine."

Wrenching herself away from the battered body, Hermione knew what was about to happen as though
she had just rehearsed it. Looking into his eyes as intensely as she could, she let the tears come.
"Harry James Potter, you *promised* this would never happen!"

Harry attempted to pat Hermione's heaving back. "Just... get me to Madam Pomfrey... and
I'll be... okay."

Hermione's mind was working logically like it normally did, and she refused to budge.
"I can't! There's no one else here, and I left my wand in my room!" She just
looked at Harry, whose body was shaking in agony, and she collapsed onto him, positively bawling.
"I love you too much to lose you now! I can't lose you to Voldemort, and I definitely
can't lose you to a silly game of Quidditch! I feel like I'm losing part of me!"

Harry forced himself to sit up, holding Hermione in her arms. This action was almost enough to
stop Hermione's tears. This wasn't supposed to happen; Harry was supposed to die, not sit
up and hold her lovingly.

Into her ear, he said, "You'll never lose me, especially not like this."

Hermione couldn't understand. Bewildered, she turned around to look at him. "Y-you-your
injuries," she stammered, shaking her head, "...you should be dead - dying!"

Harry strained a smile. "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 quietly, looking
pointedly at her.

Hermione didn't understand. She was in a state of disbelief; she couldn't, for the life
of her, understand why Harry just wasn't dieing. Betraying her confusion, though, she pulled
Harry close to her, hugging him in an almost desperate fashion. Hermione felt Harry's hand take
her chin, and slowly, he pulled it up to be equal with his, as he kissed her softly and
reassuringly. Hermione melted at the sincerity of the act, surrendering herself to the love she
felt inside.

After a while, Harry slowed the kiss down and pulled away lightly, staring straight into
Hermione's eyes. "Just remember that you will never lose me, because you're my
Snitch."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "What? Huh?"

Harry took a large intake of breath. 'It must be hard for him to talk while trying not to
die,' Hermione thought simply. Harry kept his vivid green eyes concentrated on her brown
ones.

"You're my Snitch, 'Mione, my reason to live. Like a snitch, you're beautiful
and elusive, something few will get the honour 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." He took another breath, averting his eyes for only a moment before looking back at
Hermione. "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."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and this time, she didn't care about looking like the
stereotypical teenager. She smiled through her tears, playing with the hairs on the back of
Harry's neck. "Wow," was all she could muster.

Harry never lost eye contact with her as he slowly leaned toward her, pulling her into yet
another passionate kiss.



3. Chapter Three
----------------

**Disclaimer:**

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various
publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books,
and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is
intended.

**----**

**Chapter 3**

Hermione lay on her bed quietly, staring at the ceiling. She just couldn't bring herself to
understand why her dreams were changing. First it was the honeymoon dream. She had been having that
dream for a long time; but, all of a sudden, it was changed from a rather smutty honeymoon morning
to a meaningful love confession.

Now, last night, another regular dream had changed. Hermione was often worried about Harry's
well-being; everyone was, really. Although, when the pressure got really bad, she always had the
same dream. He would be flying, alone in the air, and she'd be the only one in the stands; and
all of a sudden, he'd dive, and he wouldn't be able to recover. Harry would die because of
a stupid Quidditch match that wasn't even really going on. He always died in the end.

"Then why on *Earth* did he live this time?" she asked aloud. "And where did
the speech about the Snitch come from?"

Hermione slowly sat up. She quickly looked over at Ginny's empty bed. She was in the drawing
room, playing Wizard's Chess with Ron; she had refused to laze around with Hermione in their
bedroom. Hermione wanted so badly to tell her of what had gone on, but something inside of her was
holding her back. "I should get over this," she told herself. "I'm doing
absolutely nothing productive."

Ten minutes later, however, Hermione was still sprawled out on her bed. She couldn't get
over the dream she had had that night; she always had become a little thoughtful after one of her
Harry dieing dreams. This time, though, the fact that it had all been changed kept her more alert
than usual.

Suddenly, Hermione heard a noise outside of her bedroom. It could have been anyone, because of
the time of day and number of people residing in the house, but judging closely by the shuffling
noises and sounds of creaking steps, she guessed she knew who it was and where they were going.
Hermione bit her lip and turned to look out the window. She wanted so badly to follow him, but she
knew he needed his privacy.

She brought her eyes down to look at the bedroom floor, where she saw something orange and green
protruding from underneath her nightstand. She automatically had a flash of brilliance. It was an
amazing idea: not only would it give her reason to go and bug Harry, but she knew he needed to have
it just as much as she needed to give it.

Grabbing the ornately wrapped present from under her night table, Hermione walked out of the
room and slipped through the door. Creeping down the hall, past the tapestry, and up the secret
stairs, she came to a restful stop as the top of the steps. Quickly, she decided to wait there
until he turned around and noticed her. If she had to interrupt him, at least she'd do it when
he was half ready.

He was in the same position she had found him in the night before right down to the steaming
mug. Standing still and staring out the window, Harry's shoulders seemed to sag in relaxation.
He looked down towards the ground out of the large glass and slowly shook his head. Hermione bit
her lip again - maybe now wasn't a good time...

Before the thought could be fully processed, however, Harry slowly turned around, looking at the
cup in his hand. She clutched the gift to her chest, and the movement seemed to awake Harry to the
outside world, as his head snapped up to meet her intent gaze.

He stopped walking, giving Hermione a half-smile.

Hermione returned the gesture. After a few lengthy moments, she cleared her throat. "I knew
I would find you here." He frowned. "Don't worry, though," she continued
hastily, "I won't tell anyone about your..." What should she call it?
"...Getaway."

"Thank you," he said quietly. "But... What are you doing here?"

*Right to the point, isn't he?* "I came to bring you this," she said, as she
brought the gift away from her chest and displayed it to him. "Your birthday
present."

Harry looked at the gift quickly, then looked past Hermione with a stony expression. "I
don't deserve gifts. Not this year." He tried to walk past her and down the stairs, but
Hermione resolutely wouldn't let him. She knew why he was doing this - he regretted how he had
acted the day they had all tried to celebrate his birthday, and he was feeling guilty.

She didn't care though; not right then. "Regardless of what you think," she
started, stepping in front of him to head him off, "you do deserve them."

Harry detoured around Hermione, still walking but looking hesitant, as he didn't make eye
contact with Hermione. "Will you at least take mine, because I think you *need* it
instead?" she asked pleadingly.

He stopped on the top step. He didn't bother turning around, and with a slightly surprised
tone, he asked, "I *need* it?"

Hermione walked towards him, present outstretched. "Please, just open it and I'll
explain."

He turned around this time, and, looking into her eyes, he finally accepted the gift from her.
"Alright."

Hermione couldn't help but smile as he took the gift from her and shook it a little,
somewhat like a little child, overly excited on Christmas morning. A small smile crossed his lips
as he looked from the gift to Hermione. "Why am I not surprised you got me a book?"

Hermione returned the smirk with one of her own. "Just open it," she said with an
exaggerated roll of her eyes.

The wrapping paper quickly dropped to the ground as Harry tore it off. In his hands laid an
exquisitely bound black book, with an imprinted golden Snitch. His hands trailed over the fancy
quill attached to the leather book; the one that Hermione had picked out specially for him. For the
book.

Hermione drew in a shaky breath when Harry didn't say anything. "It's a journal,
Harry," she started. "It's *your* journal. I know how you don't like to talk
when things really start to bother you. But Harry, if you won't talk to me or Ron, or even
Ginny, please write it down in this journal. *Your* journal. That way you have an outlet for
it all." Hermione walked over to stand beside him.

"And," she continued, "I've charmed it so you don't worry about privacy.
It's kind of a cross between the Marauder's Map and Riddle's old diary; only those
people who you want to share it with will be able to read it. *But*, it will only work if you
use that quill," she finished, pointing to the quill she had attached to the journal.

Harry gave a small nod of his head. Slowly, he opened the front cover to reveal the first page.
Hermione looked at his face nervously as he read what she had written there.

**The Journal of Harry James Potter**
**Great hero, Greater seeker, Best friend**

"I got the picture from Colin," she began to explain as she saw him look over the
picture of her and him together underneath her inscription. "It's from our third year,
after the final match against Slytherin." She paused as her own eyes scanned the picture:
Harry's arm was around her, his free hand holding the straining Snitch. "You were so happy
that you beat Malfoy and won the Cup when you caught--"

"--My Snitch," he whispered quickly.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. How could he know? Was that "my" that had escaped
his lips just a slip of the tongue?

As Harry's fingers began to ghost across the image of her in the photo, though, Hermione
quickly smiled and hugged Harry's arm in happiness. "Yes, Harry. Yes you did," she
said just as quickly, hoping to the heavens that he would understand the hidden meaning.

He inclined his head to look at her. "Thanks, 'Mione. You were right; I do need
this."

Hermione smiled even wider as she looked down at the floor to hide her pink cheeks. "Well
then, I'll leave you alone, so you can get some writing done. See you," she said quietly.
She rubbed his arm lightly before quickly exiting down the secret steps.

Hermione had to restrain herself from skipping back to the bedroom. That encounter could not
have gone better. After the confrontation at his birthday party, she hadn't been sure she could
ever look at another journal again, never mind actually give Harry the one she had stylized
especially for him.

Closing the door behind her, she jumped slightly when she realized Ginny was sitting on her bed.
The expression on her friend's face was extremely serious. "Where were you?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but was instantly cut off by Ginny. "I leave you alone
for half a minute, and you disappear!"

"For Merlin's sake, Gin, are you my keeper? I just went to see Harry!"

Ginny's expression turned instantly from anger to curiosity. "Oh! Well, in that case,
do tell!"

Hermione turned towards her bed, mainly to not have to look at Ginny. What she had just
experienced with Harry was special; there had been a connection made that hadn't been there
before. He had admitted that he needed her help, and maybe a little bit more as well. "Erm...
I'll tell you later, okay Ginny? It's just that I was about to write in my diary
and..."

Ginny shrugged as she stood up abruptly and began walking towards the door. "Whatever you
say, 'Mione."

"See you, Ginny," Hermione said, as she sat on her inviting bed and reached under the
mattress. She was ready to write some things down too.

"But," Ginny said as she stood in the door frame, just before Hermione pulled out her
diary, "if you don't want to tell me, that's all you have to say."

Hermione nodded in response, and waited until Ginny had full closed the door before she pulled
her diary out from its hiding place. She loved Ginny to death, really. But there were some things,
like where exactly Harry was always hiding, or what he sometimes confided in her on those rare
occasions, or moments like they had just had, that she thought better of keeping it to herself.

As Hermione began writing, thoughts began to swirl around in her head. Had he known what he was
saying when he had blurted out "my snitch"? It was such a huge coincidence that he used
the exact same phrase as in the dream that it was almost to hard to ignore. And, even though
Quidditch was his passion, and he could have very well been referring to the struggling golden ball
in his hand, the tone of his voice just minutes ago told her otherwise.

Hermione smiled as her Muggle pen scratched across the ordinary diary. The picture in
Harry's journal was her all-time favourite. It was during that Quidditch match, seeing the
passion in his face as he flew around, watching his clever moves on his dangerous broomstick, and
just the mere thought of him perhaps falling to his death in a fight with Malfoy that made her
realize that she loved him. It had hit her hard; she sat down because her legs had given out. Ron
had quickly looked back to see if she was okay, but before she had even been able to muster an
answer, his attention was back to the game.

It was hard, admitting to herself that she was in love with her best friend. It's such a
step up in the relationship, and one wrong move could change everything. But still, Hermione
couldn't help but smile again at his possessive Snitch comment, because it was true - he had
indeed caught his Snitch on that day. He had caught her.

Hermione paused for a moment, sucking on the end of her pen, before quickly commencing her
scribbling.

*I still don't understand how his slip of the tongue could have been a mere mistake or
coincidence. It was such an important part of my dream last night, and it holds so much meaning.
And furthermore, he's never referred to the school's Snitch as "his" before,
anyway. So... how does this all make sense? I don't get it, and it's tearing me apart. He
said it happily and with meaning, as though he knew what he was saying, too...*

*Maybe he* did *know what he was saying, and he said it on purpose. But how could that
be? How could he know what had happened in my dream? Unless he was there, he wouldn't know,
because I didn't even tell Ginny about it yet. But him being in my dream is impossible;
it's not like he can read minds or see what's going on in my head or someth--*

Hermione dropped her pen. It was a possibility that had never even crossed her mind. But was it
*probable*? That was the question - Harry had never been too successful at it when he was
properly concentrating on the concept; who was to say he was mastering it now? Hermione began to
scribble on her paper again.

*Last year, Harry began to learn the concepts behind Occlumency and Legilemency...But he never
faired well with it. He kept entering Voldemort's head, who could, in turn, get into
Harry's head. It all led to really, really terrible things. I really don't think
concentrating on Occlumency is exactly what's on Harry's mind right now, though.*

*But what else could it be? The Snitch comment, the fact that he's slowly taking over my
well-choreographed dreams... I've heard him move around at night just shortly after I myself
have woken up, which kind of proves that we both wake up when the dream ends.*

Hermione paused in her writing just as Ginny walked through the door once again. "Lunch is
on the table," she said, looking from Hermione to the open diary. "You don't have to
eat if you don't want to."

Hermione nodded her head. "No, no, I'll come, I'm famished. Just give me a
minute."

Ginny nodded and closed the door. Hermione waited a couple seconds before finishing her entry in
her diary.

*If that is indeed the reason my dreams are changing, and he knows what's going on, I
can't be anything less than elated that he feels the same way. Because he confessed his love
more than once, didn't he? And he did it when he wasn't supposed to in the dreams, meaning
it was actually him saying it.*

*This may just have an extraordinary effect on our relationship.*

----

"Checkmate," Ginny cried satisfyingly, a victorious glint in her eyes. Hermione huffed
and looked down at her defeated Chess pieces.

"You always win," Hermione muttered, clearing the board of her players.

Ron laughed from behind her. "Oh, stop being such a snot, Hermione. You lost for once, fair
and square. Now, I was playing winner, wasn't I?"

Hermione walked over to the desk chair in the drawing room and sat there as Ron began to set up
his own pieces where Hermione's had been. This wouldn't be any fun to watch; Ron was near
impossible to beat at Wizard's Chess. It took a highly skilled player to beat him, and although
Hermione loved her, Ginny wasn't one of those select few.

Harry walked in at that moment, closing the door behind him and walking towards the trio with a
smile. "Sorry I'm late."

"You didn't miss much, mate," Ron said, not taking his eyes off of the board,
"just Hermione getting squelched by Ginny."

Harry looked up at Hermione and gave her a crooked grin. She tried to return the smile, but felt
as though she had no real control over her body anymore. Her cheeks went pink, her jaw was fairly
slack, and her whole body was humming slightly. She turned away in hope that he wouldn't notice
the obvious toll his smirk took on her.

Harry sat down beside Ron and began to watch the game. Hermione looked back at him. His hair was
enticingly mussed up on the top of his head, his eyes were shining a bright green, and his outfit
perfectly complimented his lean yet muscular body. He stretched upwards and his shirt rode up,
giving Hermione a small glimpse at the fine trail of hair leading into his trousers.

Hermione felt slightly faint. She knew her face was flushed, she could feel the heat radiating
around her head, and she knew she was overtly staring at Harry. If he were to look up right now, he
would know exactly what was going through her head. Although, at this point in time, she wasn't
sure that would be a bad thing. Smirking to herself at all the naughty things she wanted to do to
him, she shook her head and looked back at him. She was surprised to see him looking right at her.
She met his gaze, and didn't look away until he did a few long moments later.

----

The slightly aroused state Hermione had been in didn't dissipate throughout the entire day -
if anything, it only intensified. Any time she had managed to steal a glance at Harry, he was
smiling, or smirking, or looking thoughtful; all of which Hermione found extremely attractive, and
her body reacted accordingly.

She had always found him extremely fetching, of course: it was a fact of life that Harry Potter
was very good-looking. But his looks had never taken such an immediately toll on Hermione's
body like they had been that day. Perhaps he himself was in a mood of his own, and subconsciously
she was reacting to it? Or, maybe her body had simply chosen that day to take everything in a
sexual manner - every teenager did have those days, after all.

Hermione leaned away from both of those theories, though. Being the smart girl she was, she
could admit her own feelings to herself, whether they were ridiculous or not. She was quite sure
that the idea of Harry being in her dreams *and* responding to them just as she did was an
immense morale booster for her. When she thought about it, Harry could very well feel the same way
for her as she did for him, if her dreams were any indication. The idea that he wouldn't
necessarily refuse if she so chose to jump on him at any given time had Hermione contemplating
doing just that.

Ginny noticed Hermione's peculiar mood as well. During dinner, when everyone was seated at
the dinner table in the kitchen and the conversation was particularly loud, she had leaned over to
Hermione. "So, what has you in such a weird state, 'Mione?" she muttered.

Hermione looked aghast, turning her head so quickly to face Ginny that she was afraid of it
flying off. "What do you mean?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.

She must have sounded anything but that, however, as a mischievous expression crossed
Ginny's face. "So you do know what I mean, then? Out with it, Herm! What has you in this
crazy mood?"

"It's not crazy," Hermione hissed, quickly looking around to assure no one was
taking in their exchange. "Everyone has these days, don't they?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, yes they do. What has caused yours?"

"Goodness, Ginny, you just won't stop," Hermione muttered, exasperated.

"Does it have anything to do with the fact that Harry looks extremely fit today?"

A blush started to rise in her cheeks as Hermione looked over at Harry, who was currently
laughing at a joke Ron told. "Perhaps."

Ginny looked back down at her food, chuckling. "That's what I thought. The electricity
in the air is so thick it's almost dangerous."

Hermione bit her lip as she watched Harry scoop some more shepherd's pie onto his plate, her
body humming once again. "Don't put those hopeful thoughts into my head, Gin."

"Whatever you say, Hermione. Just try not to make yourself so obvious next time you have
one of these 'days'. Your eyes have been a shade close to black all afternoon," she
said, before turning to Tonks beside her.

----

Hermione seemed to wake up again, except around her was a completely different setting. She
pushed herself out of the covers, and a broad smile stretched across her face as she saw exactly
how she appeared: it was her own naked body, save for a pair of knickers. The underwear was a deep
shade of green, which complimented her skin tone amazingly. Usually Hermione never even noticed the
colour of the cloth she wore.

Spreading herself out on top of the comforter, she trailed one of her hands slowly down her
body, while the other took one of her breasts fully into her palm. Her back arched as her trailing
hand came into contact with a golden, vibrating sphere near the crotch of her green panties. She
began to moan quietly at what she was doing to herself. She threw her head back, quickening her
movements as her thumb rubbed her nipple.

As if on cue, Hermione opened her eyes to see Harry staring at her from the open door, an
immensely aroused look on his face. Smiling coyly, she removed her hands from their places so she
could lean on them, bent behind her shoulders. She slowly looked him up and down, and couldn't
help but stare openly at his blooming erection. Holding in a slight purr of appreciation, she
pulled herself up to crawl towards him on the bed, licking her lips in anticipation.

"Come here, Harry," she said in a light and husky tone. She refused to break eye
contact with him, meeting him stare-for-stare. Slowly, he made his way over to the bed, waddling
slightly.

When he was finally close enough, Hermione stood tall on her knees, latching her hands around
the back of Harry's neck. Disregarding any preamble, she brought his mouth quickly to hers,
pulling him into an immediately passionate kiss. She pushed her tongue into his mouth, licking at
his own tongue and intertwining hers with his.

Harry's hands began to roam freely, making their way up and down her back, and temporarily
resting on her butt. He was hard against her hip, which only drove her to need to feel more of him
against her. She placed her hands along his shoulder blades, and moved her fingers in tiny circles.
Slowly her fingers migrated towards the small of his back, where the massaging intensified. He
groaned quietly into their kiss, and he pulled her closer. Her breasts were crushed against his
chest, and it sent dizzying sensations throughout Hermione's body.

Harry growled as his lips left hers and quickly attached themselves to her earlobe. She moaned
loudly as he nibbled gently before suckling on it, an action that he knew very well turned her on
like no other. His lips then left her ear and began to trail down her neck, and he would
occasionally flicker his tongue against her skin. Hermione quickly ran her hands through his hair,
giving it a gentle tug whenever he did something appreciated.

Harry slowly pushed her back onto the bed and layered his body on top of hers. Hands and lips
were everywhere as they explored each other thoroughly. Both her and his sounds rang in the air as
they both began to crave more of each other - a feeling that couldn't be sated with their
current actions alone.

Hermione waited, and sure enough, Harry repositioned himself to slip her panties off of her. She
lifted her hips to help him, and he teasingly trailed his fingers along her skin as he tore the
fabric from her. He bent to kiss her just above where she craved his touch. She shivered in
anticipation, taking her hands from his hair and wrapping them in the silken bed sheets. She
whimpered as he ran his hands up and down her legs before slowly pulling them apart. She closed her
eyes when she felt him kissing her inner thighs lightly, slowly making their way to where she was
waiting.

Hermione groaned when she felt his lips leave her completely. As she was about to open her eyes
to see what he was doing, she suddenly felt his tongue rub against her, and she gasped in
appreciative surprise. He moved his tongue and lips anywhere he wanted, building her up to a
frenzied state. She tried to remain still but it was no use, and soon she felt herself buck up
slightly, quivering in delight as her cries filled the room.

All of a sudden, with a particular intimate kiss of his along her sensitive nub, she cried out
in ultimate happiness, shaking on the bed and raking her nails along Harry's back. She felt him
licking and kissing still, and quickly, she began to feel the need for more than just his
mouth.

Grabbing his arms, she pulled him up so they were eye-to-eye. Lust filled her body, and it only
intensified by the darkened pools of green that were Harry's eyes. He looked at her with a look
of longing that matched what she felt. His eyes were filled with longing and anticipation...
Anticipation of... a capture?

*The Snitch*. "Harry," she breathed with a voice even more throaty than before,
"Take me. I'm within your grasp; just reach out and *take me*."

With a look of understanding, Harry pulled back his hips to rip off his own boxers, a delightful
broom patterned pair, before quickly laying back on top of her. Hermione latched her fingers into
his hair as he positioned himself between her legs. She felt his manhood brush against her wet sex,
and she quickly released a moan of longing.

That seemed to be all Harry needed as he smoothly slid inside of her. Hermione arched her back
and threw her head behind her - finally, she felt fulfilled. He began to thrust within her, and she
matched him each time, wanting this so badly. She moaned his name loudly, which only seemed to spur
him on even more as his movements became faster and harder.

Hermione felt herself building up towards that wonderful edge for the second time. She bit her
lip to keep in all the shouts and praises that were trying to worm their way out as she began to
thrust against him just as hard as he was against her. Just a little further... Hermione heard
Harry gasp, and it was all she needed. Her cries filled the air and she began to convulse slightly
on the bed. She felt Harry let go as well, and soon his moans were as loud as hers.

He collapsed against her chest, breathing heavily. Hermione was panting, trying to bring her
heart back to a steady pace. She ran a hand along Harry's back, finally coming to a stop in his
hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

"Wow," he breathed. Hermione looked up at him to see a slight look of surprise in his
eyes.

Hermione grinned. Holding on to his back once again, she flipped them both over so she was
straddling his hips. She looked at him lovingly for a few joyous moments before she bent down
towards him slightly. When she was sure it was the last thing he was expecting, she slapped his
shoulder lightly before beginning to climb off of him. "Tag, you're it!" she cried
childishly. She ran to the other side of the room, where she stopped and turned around to see Harry
looking at her, more dumbstruck than ever.

"Come catch me," she whispered, before turning and running away some more.



4. Chapter Four
---------------

**Disclaimer:**

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various
publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books,
and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is
intended.

**----**

**Chapter 4**

Hermione's eyes fluttered open as the soft rays of morning sunshine forced their way into
the bedroom. Untangling herself from the bed sheets she was holding, seemingly for life itself, she
sat up slowly to rest on the bed's headboard.

Yawning, Hermione turned to see that Ginny was stirring as well, although she was nowhere near
as awake as Hermione.

"G'morning, Gin," said Hermione, stifling another yawn.

Ginny groaned into her pillow. "Morning."

"How'd you sleep?"

"Fine... What times is it?"

Hermione shrugged, readjusting herself on the back board. "I'm not quite sure. Morning,
anyway."

After a minute or so, Ginny propped herself up on her elbow to face Hermione. "So,
how'd you sleep last night? Any night time wanderings? Or... dreams?"

The devilish grin mixed with the sleepiness in her eyes made Hermione laugh as Ginny's
expression. "No, no, no night time wanderings, I felt straight asleep last night."

"You were quite the randy little girl yesterday - how'd that turn out?"

"Ginny Weasley!" Hermione felt herself turning red. "Please!"

"Oh, goodness Herm, don't be such a prude," scoffed Ginny, "just tell
me."

Hermione opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish for a few moments before deciding what
to say. But after taking another look at the slightly more awake Ginny, she decided to confess the
dream she had had. Not only was Ginny the only person she could really tell, but her red-headed
friend wasn't stupid: she knew something had happened.

Slowly, Hermione began to pour out the details of her incredibly detailed dream. Ginny, being
the amazing audience member she was, ooh-ed and aww-ed in all the proper places, never laughing at
the prospect or rolling her eyes at the cliche.

"So, it was fairly pleasant, then, eh?" Ginny asked.

"Don't be stupid, Ginny, of course it was."

Ginny gave a Cheshire grin as she finally kicked off the covers. "Just don't let on to
Harry what a good time you had last night."

To this, Hermione fell silent. Would it even matter if Hermione let it slip about her dream, or
would Harry already know? It had been fairly obvious once Hermione had figured it out that Harry
was using Legimency to invade her dreams; she only knew this, though, because they were regular
dreams of hers, and Harry's role in them had changed.

This dream was a completely new one, however. For all she knew, Harry could have been wide awake
and looking out the great window in his haven, instead of asleep in bed and sharing the dream with
her. 'It really all depends on how he acts at breakfast.' Hermione thought, 'I'll
be able to tell if he knows by his face.'

"Hermione - hello?"

Hermione shook her head. "Sorry, I got lost there for a second."

"Right..." Ginny trailed off. Looking out of the window at the rising sun, she sighed.
"I guess it's time to get ready for breakfast."

----

When the girls arrived downstairs for breakfast, they were greeted with the usual scene: Mrs.
Weasley was slaving over the hot stove, although breakfast was already served, and Ron was hunched
over his bowl of porridge in a sleep-induced stupor.

"Good morning ladies," Mrs. Weasley said brightly, nodding her head towards them.
"Tuck in, breakfast is served!"

Both girls smiled and sat down. Almost instantaneously, Harry strolled into the kitchen with a
large smile on his face as well.

"Good morning!" he said in greeting to the lot, looking around at all of them. Ron
grunted into his cereal, while Ginny greeted him back, looking quickly at Hermione with a pointed
expression.

Hermione grinned to herself, looking down at her own cereal. Ginny didn't even know the half
of it - Harry seemed a bit too happy to have not experienced the exact same thing that she had last
night. 'Still,' she thought to herself, 'mustn't get overly excited. He's a
teenage boy after all, their mood swings are horrendous...'

"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Harry asked suddenly as he sat down opposite
Hermione, looking her straight in the eyes.

Hermione willed herself not to grin like the fan girls that followed him around at school. There
was a look in his eyes; not one of omniscience, but one of a different meaning, like he knew more
than he used to, and he enjoyed the knowledge. She lost the battle with her goofy smile as she
replied, "Yes it is, Harry. A most pleasant morning at that."

Ginny giggled softly beside her. Hermione had to hold back her own laughter of happiness. The
look on his face told her what she needed to know, and was helped along with a bit of wishful
thinking. She couldn't know for sure if Harry was really conducting Legimency unless he told
her outright; there really wasn't any solid evidence. As Hermione tried to calm herself down,
she quickly thought that Harry would probably be a bit more proactive on the matter if he really
was conducting that advanced magic. 'Although, Harry might not even know what he's
doing,' revelled Hermione to herself. 'That would certainly explain the lack of awkward
situations during the day, as well as my dreams.'

Still grinning, Hermione looked up through her eyelashes at Harry. Seeing the expression on his
face, however, she whipped her head up to take a good glance at him. He looked nauseous, as if on
the verge of being sick to his stomach. Confusion clouded her senses until she saw him look from
his breakfast over to the far edge of the table - the far edge where no one sat anymore out of
respect.

The seat at the head of the table had been where Sirius regularly sat, and where he had
undoubtedly been sitting no more than four months prior. His death had been in the back of
everyone's mind, a sickening idea that put everyone in a sombre mood when the topic was brought
up. It was like that for everyone, everybody except Harry. He had been most affected by Sirius'
death, and understandably so. Sirius had been Harry's closest friend, other than Hermione and
Ron; he had been a mentor, a place of solace, and most importantly, Sirius had been Harry's
link to his parents. Hermione didn't doubt for a second that Harry took Sirius' death the
worst.

Harry's eyes suddenly went from Sirius' chair to Hermione. His eyes had lost any
expression of happiness or joy; they looked empty and sad. Hermione wanted so badly to hold him, as
she always did when he looked this vulnerable. He looked as if he could almost cry, and Hermione
knew how much he despised breaking down.

After a moment of direct eye contact, Harry stood up quickly, and with a quick "excuse
me," cleared his plate and made for the stairs.

Mrs. Weasley watched him leave worriedly, while Ron had fallen asleep and was resolutely
breathing heavily into his porridge. Ginny stared pointedly at Hermione before saying, "Well,
I'm going upstairs."

"Me as well," Hermione said quickly. She grabbed both her and Ginny's plates and
deposited them into the grubby sink before hurrying after her friend to their bedroom.

Ginny sat on Hermione's bed, and Hermione quickly followed suit.

Hermione began first. "He needs to talk to someone."

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. One moment, he's extremely happy, for who knows what reason, and the
next thing I know, I look up and he's really sad, staring over at Sirius' old
chair."

An expression of understanding crossed Ginny's face as she nodded slowly. "Ah, yes,
that does make sense. You can't blame him for that, really. It's a sensitive
subject."

Hermione shook her head. "Of course I understand. I just don't think it would affect
him as badly as it always does if he talked to someone about it."

"You know him, though, 'Mione. He doesn't like talking." Ginny shrugged.

Hermione looked out the window. Ginny was right, as she usually was: Harry did seem to despise
talking about his feelings. But writing them down - would that be a different story? Hermione
quickly thought of the journal she had given him: would he use it? Had he used it?

Ginny snapped Hermione out of her reverie. "Come to think of it, though, the only person
he's ever really shared his feelings with out of all of us is you. Maybe he'd talk to
you."

Harry had looked at her with quite fervour before he had left the table at breakfast - perhaps
he was trying to tell her something? Maybe, after receiving the journal, he realized he was in dire
need of confessing his feelings, and was finally ready to share them with someone.

Hermione looked at Ginny. "Do you think so?"

Ginny shrugged as she sighed loudly. "I don't know, 'Mione. All I know is that boy
has been sullen all summer long, and it's beginning to feel like the first Potions lesson of
the year around here."

----

Hermione closed the bedroom door behind her as she played with the sopping wet locks rolling
down her back. Ginny looked at her from the confines of her bed with a stern and annoyed
expression. "That, Granger," she said, "had to be the longest shower anyone has ever
taken in this house."

Hermione grinned. "Sorry."

The truth was, she was in a great mood, and nothing could really pull her out of it. She had
done some thinking in the shower - about Harry of course. It all had to do with the precious
journal - if he had written something down, and she could see it, it meant that he was most
definitely ready to talk about it, and not just to anyone: to her.

"Has Harry been around?" Hermione asked, trying to soften her friend.

"No. He's been wherever he always goes since breakfast."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "But it's been almost four hours!"

Ginny simply glared as Hermione ran her hand through her hair. "You know," began
Hermione, tentatively sitting on Ginny's bed, "I think I'm going to go see if he wants
to talk."

Ginny's expression changed immediately. "It's about time! If he wants to talk to
anyone, you'd be the one."

"Perhaps," Hermione replied. "But how about if he doesn't want to talk to
anyone at all?"

Ginny huffed and rolled her eyes. "You're being a prat, Hermione. I refuse to talk to
you until you wise up."

Hermione laughed. Maybe it was true. "Okay. I'm going." Slowly, she stood up and
made her way back toward the door. With an encouraging smile from Ginny, she slipped through the
frame and padded her way to the hidden staircase, where she tried as best she could to not make any
noise.

When she came to the top landing, Hermione saw Harry pacing up and down in front of the
magnificent window. He seemed restless, unable to keep still. Scanning the room, her eyes came
quickly to rest on the open journal laying on the desk by the bookshelf. Confidence faltering
slightly, Hermione gathered up her remaining will and cleared her throat clearly.

Harry immediately stopped pacing and looked over at Hermione. After making eye contact, Hermione
slowly walked over to the desk. Afraid of what she would, or wouldn't, see, she picked up the
journal. The pages were blank. Extremely disappointed, Hermione flipped past a couple of pages,
cementing the fact that she wasn't able to see anything he had written. "Have you written
anything? ...Or are you just not ready to share?"

He diverted his eyes to the window. "I've written some. What are you doing up
here?"

Hermione shrugged as she put down the journal. "I just thought you might like some
company."

"Thank you all the same, but I'd actually rather that you left."

Hermione was determined to stay stoic on her exterior, although the shock from what Harry had
just said was already causing her confusion. "I promise I'll stay out of the way. I'll
just sit on the window sill and be quiet. Please?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as though in impatience. "No," he said, looking
at the ground.

"Why not?" Hermione asked, slightly angry.

"Because I can't take you. ...I don't want to be around you, Hermione."

It was Hermione's turn to look at the ground as she tried to hide the tears welling up in
her eyes, caused by the force of what he was saying. "Oh," she whispered.

She looked up at the same time as he did. She looked straight into his emerald coloured eyes.
His life was so complicated, tainted by so many traumatic experiences that would have sent any
other wizard straight to a permanent residence at St. Mungo's. But Harry was different; he had
a strong enough will to take all of it.

Because of it all, though, Harry had an enormously difficult time trusting people with his
vulnerability. Hermione would never know how he felt, because he would never share it. Harry was a
different case, not something she could research in a book, in any library. He was different from
the rest, and it pained her sometimes.

"Harry..." she began.

Harry shook his head, looking elsewhere once more. "And don't come up here
again."

Hermione could no longer hold back the tears that were clouding her vision. She felt as though
she had been winded. "Harry... I-I... I..."

She couldn't do it, and without a glance backwards, she ran back to the steps and, in a
flash, was gone from the secret haven.

----

The front door slammed shut downstairs, and the deep voices of men could be heard booming from
the foyer. One greasy voice in particular stood out, however.

Ginny looked over to Hermione, who was laying in her bed. She had come back from trying to talk
to Harry, and hadn't moved from the room since, save for a quick nip of dinner. "Snape
must be here for Harry's Occlumency lesson," the redhead suggested.

Hermione turned over to face Ginny. She hadn't told her what had happened in Harry's
haven, but she knew Ginny had probably figured out that the confrontation hadn't gone as
planned.

Ginny gave her a half-smile as she too moved around the lie in her own bed. Trying to pick up
the conversation again, Ginny tried, "Do you think Harry will block the git out
tonight?"

Hermione sighed. After a few long moments, she turned back over to face the ever-darkening
window that faced the street. "Honestly, I hope Harry's head really hurts tonight."
And with that, she pulled the covers over her head, signalling the end of the conversation.

----

Hermione looked around her, seeing nothing but piles upon piles of large, dusty books.
Containing more manuscripts than even the Hogwart's library would have the capacity to carry,
the room seemed to have endless rows of large, leather-bound books that were available for Hermione
to do whatever she wanted with them.

She looked down at the table she was sitting at, and began to read what was laying in front of
her. It was a one-of-a-kind edition, containing Hermione's own neat handwriting. Looking over
the words, she realized it was all memories she had compiled. And they all had to do with her and
Harry.

Quickly, she began to remember everything that was written down: the third-floor corridor in
First Year, the Chamber in their Second, their antics with the Time-Turner, and even the long walks
around the lake they had had in Fourth Year when Harry and Ron had been in a spat. The book even
included the time Hermione had kissed Harry on the cheek... It had everything they had ever done
together, right up to that summer.

Hermione began to take notes. Quickly, she started to analyze the different situations, and how
Harry had acted towards her each time. She attempted to find a pattern of some sort - a way of
really finding out how he felt about her.

She carried on for quite some time, losing track of the hour, and was fairly engrossed in her
work when she heard someone's voice.

"What are you researching now Hermione?" they asked quietly.

Hermione looked up to see no one other than Harry approaching the table, looking at the
manuscripts she had been studying. She rapidly shut the book shut so he wouldn't be able to see
all that she had remembered. If he was there under Legimency...

"How do you always know where to find me?" she asked, still slightly surprised at his
arrival.

"I just know you, that's all," he said. He began to sit down in a chair opposite
hers. Before she had any time to argue with his statement, he said, "and before you ask - no,
you're not just being predictable. You still find ways to surprise me on a regular
basis."

Hermione hadn't been expecting him to say anything like that, and was rendered speechless.
"As do you, Harry," she stammered as she began to recover her voice.

Harry shrugged. "You never answered my question - what are you researching?"

Hermione bit her lip, debating whether or not she should just tell him what was bothering her.
"I've got conflicting information about something, and I've been trying to sort out
the truth," she said hesitantly, wanting to see how he would react.

Harry nodded. "I see."

After a few moments, Hermione shook her head to herself. This was *her* place, *her*
time to be in control. Harry might have been there through Legimency once more, so he would
remember this meeting as well. Yet, there was no need to be scared of what Harry would say. People
always said night time was the time when truth came out.

"You can help me, if you want."

Harry nodded his head immediately, almost automatically, it seemed.

Hermione wanted this to work so badly. "I want you to answer some questions for me
truthfully. Do you think you can do that?"

"I'll... I'll try."

"Okay," Hermione said. Looking straight into Harry's eyes, hopefully depicting how
much this meant to her, she asked, "what do guys look for in a girl?"

"Most guys want some good looking girl that'll snog with them. They want a girl with
big boobs, long hair, longer legs, and a model's face. But they'll settle for less if she
gives them what they want. I guess all guys are different though," Harry said, looking
thoughtful, yet answering extremely quick. "Why do you want to know?"

"I told you, I've got some conflicting information," Hermione said. *They*
want a girl with boobs... *They'll* settle for less... "I noticed you said
'they.' So what do *you* want in a girl Harry?"

"I want someone who likes me for me, not because I'm the famous Boy-Who-Lived. I want
someone who is loyal, honest, and caring. I want someone who wants to hold me in her arms,
who's first thought in the morning is me... Who's last thought at night is me. I want
someone who loves me unconditionally, just as I love her."

Perhaps Hermione was being paranoid, but it seemed to her as though Harry was answering very
quickly. Maybe she was gaining more and more control, like she had had before.

She refused to break eye contact with him, penetrating him with her piercing stare.
"Don't you want a girl with big boobs? ...Or the rest of that... stuff?"

"I've learned that beauty is very subjective. I can see beauty where others
don't."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. What exactly was he saying?

"Just like Hagrid thinks a dragon, or a three-headed dog, can make a great pet, I can see
the beauty of, say... the Shrieking Shack. It may be ugly to the rest of the world, but knowing
what it really is, a place where friends stood by each other in the worst of times, it has it's
own unique beauty."

"So..." Hermione quickly blurted out what she wanted to know so desperately, before
she was able to chicken out. "Is Cho beautiful, Harry?"

"She's nice to look at, but not beautiful."

"Do you still like her?"

Harry shrugged. "No. I'm not sure if I ever really did."

Again, his answers were as automatic as they had been before. Hermione noticed they weren't
quick as if he was just trying to say what she wanted to hear, but as if he was saying what he
meant without thinking of the consequences of his actions... He didn't seem to be thinking
about being vulnerable anymore.

Hermione closed her eyes, crossing her fingers underneath the table. "Am *I*
beautiful, Harry?"

She opened her eyes once more, full of anxiety and fear at what he would say. He was looking
straight at her, and for once, he seemed to be taking his time to answer the question.

She was getting ready to hear all the answers she constantly gave herself: *No, Hermione,
you're extremely smart, but never pretty*... *You look... Just normal. You're nothing
special.*

Harry kept eye contact. "You are the most beautiful person I know Hermione, on the outside
as well as inside. And don't let any mirror tell you otherwise."

Hermione felt all the muscles in her stomach release. She maintained a calm exterior as she
asked, "What are your feelings toward me, Harry?" She began to fix him with her
penetrating stare once more.

"You are my best friend, so of course I care about you."

Hermione didn't believe him. She could tell by the way he looked away that he wasn't
telling her everything. And she wanted to know everything. "Once more, how do you
*really* feel about me?"

Looking at him as intensely as she had all night, wanting this answer more than any, Hermione
waited for what he had to say.

"I love you."

Hermione opened her mouth slowly, hardly daring to believe what she had just heard. "How
long have you felt this way? How long have you known?" She looked at him harshly again.

Harry sighed in a defeated manner.

"The very first day we met on the Hogwart's Express, you obviously knew who I was, as
did the rest of the wizarding world, but you didn't let that get in the way of getting to know
the scared and awe struck little boy I was. For that I gladly became your friend. By the end of
that year, after you followed me into the bowels of Hogwart's and helped me prevent Voldemort
from obtaining the Philosopher's Stone, I knew we had become and would always be good
friends.

"Then in the second year, when everyone thought that I was the one unleashing a monster on
the students, especially after I unknowingly spoke Parseltongue in front of most of the school, you
stuck by my side. You even risked the thing you held most dear, school, to help me when you brewed
the Polyjuice potion. After you were petrified trying to deliver me the answers we sought, I
realized how much I cared for you then and that our bond was stronger than friends, it was as close
as family.

"Third year is when I started to get confused. I became ever more concerned about you each
day that I watched you working yourself to death, not knowing the complete truth of what you were
doing. Even so, when the rush of events happened at the end of the year, you were once again by my
side. I knew then that the bond between us could never be broken. When you wrapped your arms around
my waist as we rode Buckbeak, I felt something stir inside of me, something I wasn't prepared
for. I wanted to be more than just your friend. I felt an attraction towards you stronger than I
had ever felt for any girl before. I knew it was more than just platonic love, because I didn't
feel any of it in the thankful embrace from Ginny when I saved her from Riddle. But you were my
best friend and some part of my brain told me it was wrong, like having a crush on a sister.

"When fourth year started, I tried to force myself to like someone else, and it was Cho
that I settled on, as she was widely considered to be desirable and some people thought I already
liked her. But no matter how hard I tried I just didn't feel the same way about her as I did
for you. I know that I was only fooling myself in thinking I could. Then Yule Ball came, when I saw
you with Krum I was angry and jealous, but I had lost my chance by not asking you when I wanted to
so badly.

"Then the kiss on the cheek you gave me at King's Cross at the end of that year tore me
in two. It took every fibre in my being not to grab you and kiss you back. That part of my brain
was still telling me that my affections for you was wrong, so I re-doubled my efforts to shift
those feeling from you onto Cho. Valentine's Day fifth year just proved I wasn't up to the
task of keeping my mind on any other girl while I secretly longed for you.

"When we went to the Ministry, you were once again by my side. It amazed me how many times
you have been there for me when everyone was against me, when it meant breaking the rules, when no
one believed me, when I was being a bastard, and even when you knew that I was rushing into a
potentially lethal situation before thinking.

"In the few short moments between the time you where hit with that curse and when Neville
told me you had a pulse, I felt my willpower and my very life slipping away. It was then that I had
an epiphany, that voice in my head was wrong. Just because you were my best friend, a relationship
that is as close as family and can never be broken, my attraction to you was not wrong, but a
natural progression.

"The events of that night left me with a dilemma. I had finally thrown off the shackles
that prevented me from being honest about my feelings about you. But, if I confessed my love for
you, Voldemort would have even more reason to try to use you to get to me. As this is the last
thing I want, I kept my feelings for you to myself. So I willingly accepted the fact that you would
never know of my love, that I would never know the taste of your lips, if it meant you would live.
I decided that I would kill Voldemort, not for the world, not for Dumbledore, not even for myself,
but for you. I love you Hermione. I love you with all my being. I would die for you. So, I die a
little each day so you stay safe."

Hermione's jaw hung open. He tortured himself everyday, dieing inside, so she wouldn't
be put into danger. A single tear fell down her cheek as she realized that Harry had always felt
the same way about her that she had felt about him. The feeling had been mutual, but they had both
thought there was too much on the line to risk anything more.

Harry was confessing a love of no boundaries, where happiness rested in the other person's
safety. He was willing to be unhappy himself, as long as he knew that Hermione would be safer and
more secure because of it. He wanted her to live a happy life, while he was suffering.

Hermione sniffled, still soaking in all of what Harry had said. His attempts at pushing her away
had done nothing but make her forlorn and grief-stricken. Even if he had been doing it for her own
safety, Hermione decided that she'd be much more happy if she was *with* Harry and
extremely vulnerable, than without him and safe.

As Harry lowered his eyes to the table, obviously embarrassed, she began to smile. The way he
had struggled against saying what he had said hinted strongly toward him actually being present in
the dream through Legimency... That would mean that every word he had uttered was true. It would
mean he *did* love her to no end.

Looking over the table at the highly embarrassed Harry, Hermione gave into temptation as she
stood up and leaned over as far as she could, grabbing his shirt collar. Pulling him up, she
plunged her lips into his, bringing them together in a fierce kiss. Running her tongue along his
lips, Hermione silently showed she wanted more. Harry parted his lips, and instantly their tongues
met in a heated and passionate dance. Unwillingly, Hermione pulled away from Harry, only to clear
the table of all of the books and manuscripts that had filled it. She climbed on to it, pulling
Harry to rest on top of her.

She tried to pull him back for a kiss, but he found her neck, and she quickly began to feel his
hot breath and tongue sweeping across her sensitive skin. Licking and nibbling his way along,
Hermione moaned rather loudly as Harry gently tugged on her earlobe.

Harry began to undo the front of Hermione's robes, trying to concentrate on the fastenings
while still lavishing Hermione's earlobe with appropriate attention. Once he began to undo
them, however, Hermione felt him leave her ear and instead he began to follow the trail of skin
being exposed by the lack of her robe with his tongue.

Harry quickly disposed her of the robe. She was quite aware of the fact that she was extremely
nude. Looking up at Harry, she gained immediate confidence at the look of awe and appreciating on
his face. Growling slightly, he quickly tore off his own robes. Hermione let out a small whimper as
she starred at his own naked body. The tight muscles in his chest and stomach contracted as he
looked down at himself in surprise.

Hermione growled quietly, which brought Harry right back to attention. Instantaneously, his
hands were at work, finding themselves cupping Hermione's soft breasts. Hermione moaned at the
sensations. She ran her hands through Harry's jet black locks just as he brought down his head
for yet another heated kiss, which Hermione readily returned. She let her hands trail from his hair
to his neck, and slowly down his back.

With Harry's hands playing with her hardened nipples, and his tongue and teeth playing with
hers, Hermione placed her hands on Harry's ass. She moaned at the sensations caused by his
hardness being pushed closer to her entrance, and she steadily began to push him more and more
towards her. Harry laughed into their kiss, and without breaking their embrace, he positioned
himself on top of Hermione.

Hermione clawed at his back, heavily anticipating what was coming next. Without warning, Harry
entered her, fast and hard. She gasped, arching her back so her chest collided with his. Harry
began to create a rhythm; fast enough to satisfy, yet still slow enough to drive Hermione mad.

Hermione brought her legs around his waist and dug her heels into his back, forcing them closer
together. Harry grunted and began to enter her with more intensity, harder and faster than before.
His movements were bringing Hermione closer and closer to the edge, and with a last moan on his
part, Hermione saw a blinding light, no longer in control of what she way saying.



5. Chapter Five
---------------

**Disclaimer:**

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various
publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books,
and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is
intended.

**----**

**Chapter 5**

"Herm... Herm. Hermione! Wake up!"

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, taking in the morning light as slowly as she could. It was
fairly bright, it must have been late in the morning. She turned over in bed to face Ginny, who had
woken her up. The look of anxiety and concern on the red head's face confused her, causing her
to sit up.

"What's wrong?" she asked stupidly, seemingly still half-asleep.

"I should ask you the same," Ginny replied. "Why are you crying?"

Hermione brought her hand up to touch her face, where she realized she had tears running down
her cheeks. She sighed, leaning against the headboard. "I didn't even know I was
crying."

Ginny sat on the end of Hermione's bed. "It wasn't crying so much as distressed
sobbing. It sounded like something was really getting to you, 'Mione."

Hermione didn't say anything. Instead of answering, she looked out the window, where the
trees were slowly swaying in the almost non-existent wind. The sun was shining brightly, but it was
still low in the sky. Perhaps it wasn't as late as Hermione thought it was.

"Herm? What's wrong?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm not even sure, Gin. I didn't have a bad night,
exactly."

"So... another good dream, then?"

Hermione gave a half-hearted grin. "Yeah."

Ginny smiled and pulled herself up so she was sitting cross-legged across from Hermione on her
bed. "Tell me all about it, then!"

Hermione wiped the smile off of her face as she felt her eyes grow round in surprise at the
request. "Oh, Gin, I don't know about that, I-"

"Please? My ear's aren't *too* sensitive after all, if you know what I
mean."

Hermione felt herself blush. "Yes, well, it's not exactly that part that I'm
unwilling to tell you, is it?"

Ginny simply gave Hermione a Look, leaning back on her elbows. Hermione rolled her eyes and got
comfortable, shimmying herself against her pillow.

"You have to promise you won't tell anyone, right?"

"Please," Ginny replied, "who am I going to tell? Ron?"

Hermione smiled slightly before she took a big intake of breath. Pouring out the contents of her
heart was difficult, but she found it to be easier to tell Ginny what had happened in the dream
than she thought it was going to be. She tried to take out details she truly wanted to keep to
herself, like how Harry had blatantly confessed his love, and the idea that their time together
meant as much to him as it did to her, but Ginny was a smart girl, asking the questions that begged
the true answers.

"Do you think it means something that you had that dream right after a row with
Harry?"

Hearing Ginny says those words was like hearing her own thoughts spoken aloud. Hermione twisted
uncomfortably on the bed, not sure what to say. Did it mean something more than the others had? Was
her mind just playing tricks on her, or had Harry really invaded her dreams like she suspected he
had been? Was what Dream Harry said just a figment of her imagination, needing to hear something
more than "I can't take you"... Or had Harry really meant those things that were
said? Did Dream Harry perhaps reflect Real Harry's thoughts? Was Hermione right?

"I don't know, Gin, there are just too many questions right now, you know?"

"No, I don't know."

"Well, there's a lot... Not many I'm comfortable answering. Or even thinking
about."

"Well, what am I here for? Let's hear it!"

Hermione shook her head. "No... Thanks, really, but... let's go to breakfast."

Hermione saw a bit of anger flash through Ginny's expression. "Please, Hermione!
It's just me and you here!"

Hermione sighed and untangled herself from the covers of her bed. Watching the look on
Ginny's face change from confusion to insult to anger was hard, but what Hermione was thinking
was simple: true, Ginny knew a lot about Hermione and her life, but there were parts that were
meant to be kept private.

"Let's go to breakfast."

----

The first meal of the day was a rather subdued one for Hermione; Ginny was still rather peeved
at the way she had treated the situation up in their bedroom, and as a result had minimized their
conversation to the bare necessities. Ron had come down, communicating in no more than grunts and
flicks of his head. Mrs. Weasley wasn't even creating conversation - a clear indication that
she wasn't in the best of moods.

Overall, though, the lack of a friendly atmosphere caused a melancholic streak through Hermione,
allowing nothing but the thoughts of Harry to roam through her mind. She found herself pushing her
food around her plate, taking miniscule bites rather than actually eating like she normally
did.

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley barked suddenly, "when was the last time you did something
useful around here?"

Ron looked up from his breakfast, dazed from the sudden noise, it seemed. He didn't reply to
his mom, but instead simply stared back at her.

"You know," Mrs. Weasley began again, "even Fred and George help out when
they're around here! The girls work in the garden out back, the twins help with dinner, and
even Harry volunteers to scrub once in a while, that poor overworked soul. *You*, however, sit
there like a stubborn Hippogriff!"

Ron blinked.

"*Speaking* of Hippogriffs, Ronald, Buckbeak's chamber could use a spot of
cleaning, hmm?"

Ron grunted something about having a shower (Hermione thought, anyway), and made to leave the
kitchen. Mrs. Weasley, however, had other plans. Storming over and grabbing him by the ear, she
pulled him out of the room and up the stairs, where she could still be heard shouting cries of
usefulness and cleanliness.

Hermione sighed and rested her elbow on the table, something she had always scolded everyone for
doing, and played with her fork. Ginny huffed as well, but spoke no words.

A noise at the door caused her to look up at Harry, who looked slightly more awake than Ron had
been. Hermione quickly looked back down to her breakfast, which was unusually still present on the
plate.

"Where's Ron?" she heard Harry ask.

Hermione wasn't prepared to answer, so she was grateful when Ginny picked up the
conversation. "Mum has him upstairs cleaning up Buckbeak's room," she said casually,
playing with the food she too still had on her plate. "She hasn't been too pleased with
the job he's been doing."

Harry nodded in silence. Hermione could feel Ginny's glance on the side of her head, but she
refused to look at her friend. Even with they were mad at each other, they still looked out for the
other. Hermione, though, refused to listen to Ginny's silent request in this case.

"I suppose I should go help him," Ginny said off-handily, scraping her chair back and
collecting her plate.

'She plays dirty,' Hermione thought. She realized that if she wasn't willing to talk
to Harry, Ginny was simply going to force her to. But Ginny obviously didn't understand the
situation - the degree of the row she had had with Harry the day before, followed up by such a
personal and intimate dream left Hermione feeling extremely vulnerable to Harry. Perhaps he
wasn't aware of what had gone on in her dream last night, but if Hermione's suspicions were
correct, her insecurities were properly based.

As Ginny made to leave the room, Hermione stood up as well. "I'll come with you,"
she said desperately, quickly running her plate over to the sink. She ignored Ginny rolling her
eyes, quickly giving a "be quiet" look of her own. Before they could even make it out of
the kitchen, though, Harry stood as well.

"'Mione, can I talk to you first?"

Hermione hesitated at the door and looked over at Ginny, who was looking at Harry.

"Alone?" Harry added.

Ginny looked up at Hermione. Hermione quickly looked over at Harry, and deciding on a whim, gave
a small nod to Ginny, telling her it was okay to go. Following Hermione's notion, Ginny left
the room.

Hermione turned around and sat down in her chair. Placing her head in her hands and looking away
from Harry and around the room, she tried to look nonchalant.

"What is it, Harry?"

Hermione heard him take in a large intake of air. "I want to apologize to you for
yesterday. I was a bloody prick, just like I have been all summer." He paused for a moment,
and when Hermione looked over, his head was in his hands as well, and he was looking down at the
table. "I'm really sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?"

Hermione gave a small laugh. Yes, that was what she had wanted to hear for almost a day now, and
yes, it was excellent knowing that Harry did care about her and what she thought... But really, she
thought it was quite obvious what she wanted.

She looked over at Harry. "You mean other than telling me what the *hell* is going on
in that head of yours?"

Harry gave a small smile as he made eye contact. "Yeah, other than that... Yeah."

Hermione shrugged as she looked away once more. She bit her lip, nervous at the situation. This
had the potential to be a fairly serious conversation, and she was sure if she wanted to subject
Harry to what she actually had to say.

'Actually,' she thought, 'sod it. It's his own damn fault.'

"You can stop pushing me away," she said sharply as she looked back at him.

Harry gave a nervous smile. "Exactly what I had in mind. I want to spend the day with you,
just you and me. I want you to come back up to my Getaway and I'll try to explain some of my
actions... If you'll come."

Hermione detached her upper lip from her teeth to smile. "That would be very nice, Mr.
Potter."

Harry gave a familiar smirk and he stood up. "Thank you, 'Mione." He continued as
he walked over to the stove. "I'll be up as soon as I finish my breakfast, okay?"

Hermione stood up quickly and made her way to the door. Before slipping out, she looked back at
Harry, who was still watching her from the stove. "I'll be waiting," she said
happily, as she exited the room.

She made her way up quickly to her bedroom, hoping to find Ginny and apologize, and perhaps
inform her of what Harry said. Unfortunately, though, Ginny wasn't there - it seemed as though
she really had gone to help Ron. Undaunted, Hermione continued down the hallway to the tapestry
that hid the stairs, and slowly made her way up to the hidden room Harry loved so much.

Walking as slowly as she could, as to take up time, she made her way over to the breathtaking
window. She leaned against it and looked out at everything basking in the golden hue of the morning
light, waiting for Harry to come and join her.

It didn't seem to take too long, though. Soon enough, Hermione heard the tell-tale squeak of
old stairs, and moments later, Harry appeared on the landing. He stopped and just stared back.
Quickly, she stood back up and made her way over to him. Reading his expression, she leaned into
him and gave him a small hug. She pulled him closer when she felt him rubbing the small of her
back.

"I'm sorry," Harry said from over her shoulder. "I'm sorry for being such
a prick 'Mione, especially yesterday."

Hermione bit her lip at the anguish in his voice. She pulled away from him and held him at
arm's length. Just by his eyes she could tell he wasn't finished, the pain and anxiety
harboured there enough of a flag of warning against her interrupting him.

Harry pulled away from her grasp gently, and began to pace in front of the window. As he looked
at the floor and seemed to fish for the right words, Hermione turned around and sat at the chair
that accompanied the desk in the room; the same desk she had found the diary on the day before.

Harry began to speak as she sat down in the chair. "I know I've been withdrawn and
everyone's been worried about me, but I've had a lot on my mind. I really do want to stop
being a jerk to everyone, especially to you and Ron... The journal helped me feel better. But so
far I've only gotten the small, petty things written down. A lot I still need to work
through." Hermione noticed he began to fist his hands in his hair. "Yesterday I was going
to try and tackle some of these bigger... issues... And I wasn't able to write a word. All
these thoughts and emotions were swirling around my head, some of which I've been keeping
bottled for awhile now."

He stopped pacing and turned around. He seemed lost until his eyes found her sitting in the
chair. She simply nodded, silently urging him to continue.

He stood still, facing her, exposing himself completely to her. "Anyway, you walked in and
I was already frustrated not being able to get any of it out, and your mere presence would have
just added to my confusion. So I tried as best I could to ask you to leave, but you insisted on
staying..." He trailed off and suddenly seemed reluctant to continue.

Hermione opened her mouth to encourage him, but he had found his voice. "I suddenly felt
that you were violating my refuge, the only place I could get away from the constant prying
questions and my trust in you that you wouldn't push me in here, that you wouldn't barge in
without permission. And I reacted just like every time before, I pushed you away."

Hermione felt herself blushing in embarrassment and forced herself to look away. When she had
thought he was simply begging for help and attention, he had only wanted peace and quiet. She had
convinced herself that he had wanted her to come up to him, but really, he had nowhere else to
turn.

As she looked down at the floor, she felt his hand on her chin. She let him lift her face to
look at his, and looked him straight in his eyes. "I realize," he said, "that's
the last thing I should do. I'm sorry."

The embarrassment of her intrusion on his privacy, coupled with his sincere apology was too
much, and she launched herself from the chair she sat in and hugged him freely. She felt tears
flowing down her cheeks, but she didn't mind, because she knew Harry wouldn't either.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I really am. I should have understood it wasn't okay for me to
come here any old time like it was the common room," she replied through her tears, burying
her face in his shoulder.

"It's okay. I was the prat who should have told you how I felt earlier. I'll take
you up on yesterday's offer, though; if you want to stay, sit and read, you're more than
welcome to."

Hermione smiled through her tears. It wasn't an intrusion if he offered it to her, was it?
She hugged him again before pulling away to wipe her face clean of the moisture. "Thank you. I
promise I'll be quiet!"

----

Hermione had never been aware that silence could be so comfortable; amid all the moments she had
really basked in the absence of noise, she was too concentrated to notice. But now, as she looked
around Harry's haven, unable to concentrate on anything in particular, she noticed how natural
and normal it seemed.

Smiling to herself, she returned to the book she had taken from the bookshelf. She had read only
a couple of words, though, when she began to feel dazed. She closed her eyes, worried at her sudden
state of sleepiness, when she began to see a picture forming in her head: a picture of herself.

It was a weird sensation; she knew she was sitting on a windowsill somewhere near London, yet
the lifelike rendition of herself she was seeing was curled up in front of a familiar fire in the
Gryffindor common room. She was reading a book, which she reckoned wasn't an unusual sight, as
she sat in what she was sure was her favourite armchair. She was seeing herself as though she was
sitting in the chair opposite of her, as if she was another student in the room, watching her.

Hermione snapped back to reality, opening her eyes wide as she looked hastily at Harry. He was
hard at work, writing in his diary with his head bent and hand moving furiously. Craning her neck
ever so slightly, she realized he wasn't writing, he was drawing.

He was drawing her.

Hermione's head fell back against the window silently. She had just seen herself from
Harry's perspective, and now, she noticed he was drawing her. She had seen what he had seen -
he was entering into her head, her mind, and allowing her to see what he saw.

Hermione smirked self-satisfactorily, trying hard not to laugh out loud in relief. Harry was
using Legilemency, obviously unintentionally. It *had* been the reason she had seen herself as
if she was sitting down, and it definitely *had* been the reason he had been so different in
her dreams lately. Harry wouldn't let Hermione see herself like that if he was invading her
thoughts; the degree of importance of what he was doing, she surmised, was too great.

Hermione continued to gaze at him until she felt his eyes begin to move. She stared at her book
hard, as if in complete concentration. Hoping to seem casual, she bit her lip out of habit, nervous
at the situation. Harry was drawing her in his diary full of his personal thoughts, dreams,
aspirations, whatever. He was taking up personal space with her image, one with, she had to admit,
breathtaking beauty with light from the fire reflecting from in front of her. He thought she was
beautiful, he wanted to draw her, and now she could be sure that he did love her.

Hermione began to get visions of herself every few minutes, each picture different, but still
not current. She would be sitting, or laughing, or staring off in concentration, all from the view
of Harry.

Hermione tried to shake off the feelings that were circling in her stomach, but staring intently
at the book in front of her didn't help. The pictures going through her head now were flashing
quickly; one of her when the trio had just arrived back from a rather nasty Potions class, laughing
at Snape's ugly hooked nose, another from the Great Hall, laughing at one of Ron's jokes,
and again still, arriving at Grimmauld, covered in snow and twirling amongst the falling
snowflakes. It didn't take her long to notice that in each flash, her face had the same excited
smile, eyes bright and cheeks fairly rosy. Was that imagined, she wondered, or was she really
capable of looking so happy?

As the hours passed, the more visions she received, the more cemented she was in the fact that
Harry was unintentionally using Legilemency. Casting glances Harry's way whenever she dared she
realized he was still drawing her; except it was a different drawing. How many had he gone
through?

Quickly, the view changed. She was looking at herself from an angle that one would see her if
they were sitting. Her hair was sparkling, helped by the rays of sunshine being filtered by the sun
out of the window. She looked troubled - no, not troubled, more like thoughtful, as if the only
thing she ever wanted to do was think and contemplate. The angle of the sun was almost blinding
parts of the picture. It was as if she was sitting on the floor, looking up at herself... Or
sitting on a chair. At a desk.

The silence was broken suddenly when Harry's stomach made a loud, lurching noise. Glad to be
given a reason to look at him, Hermione smiled in amusement as she put the book she had only been
pretending to read down.

"I guess we should take a break and get something to eat," she suggested.

He grinned as he closed the diary and placed his pen on top of it. Quietly and without
conversation, they walked down the squeaky stairs, through the tapestry and down to the
kitchen.

Almost afraid to break the serenity of their afternoon, Hermione avoided talking as she sat at
the table and awaited the lunch Harry was preparing. He didn't bother talking either, and that
didn't change as he sat down with a couple ham sandwiches and Butterbeers for two.

They continued to eat in silence, sometimes meeting glances and smiling through messy bread and
drink.

Hermione watched as Harry gulped down the rest of his Butterbeer. Swallowing loudly, he broke
the silence. "I think I'm ready for that birthday party now."

Hermione smiled hugely, letting his words sink in. "Really, Harry? Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I really think so. I think it's time... I think it's time to be
happy."

Hermione felt a warmth fill her that didn't simply consist of happiness. Contemplating what
she could do to make Harry happy, she nodded. "I'll get started, then!"

----

"Well," huffed Ginny over a pot of a steaming roast, "if this doesn't make
Harry happy, he definitely does *not* deserve to be a Weasley."

Hermione laughed as she rolled dough for a pie. Right after her conversation with Harry over
lunch, she had rushed to find Ginny, giving her sparse details about her afternoon, but filling her
in, in quite detail, about Harry's wish for his birthday party. In true Weasley fashion, Ginny
had rushed off to grab her mom, and preparations had begun immediately.

"It's true," chipped in Mrs. Weasley as she peeled vegetables over the sink,
"this will surely be a night that boy never forgets! I can't remember cooking this much
food since... Well, a long time. Hermione, which pie are you working on, dear? Blueberry?"

"No," Hermione had replied, still turning the dough, "Pumpkin."

"Perfect," Mrs. Weasley returned, "that's Harry's favourite, I
believe."

"Less talking, more cooking," Ginny growled from the stove.

Hermione chuckled. Yes, all Weasley women seemed to be excellent in the kitchen, but Ginny sure
wasn't going down without a fight.

----

The roar of laughter was still going strong after Harry opened his present from the Weasley
twins. Offering his services, Fred jammed the general's hat they had presented Harry with on
the birthday boy's head. He tapped his wand on the badge that read, "DA," causing the
letters to flash red and gold against the black background.

"So," Ginny said quietly behind everyone, "what did you get him? I haven't
seen your present here yet."

"Oh," replied Hermione, trying to sound casual, "I didn't get him anything...
that's here right now." Perfect. She hated lying to Ginny.

"I don't get it."

"It's not that complicated," Hermione hissed underneath all the raucous. The boys
really seemed to find that hat funny. 'Oh wait,' Hermione thought, 'now it's
Ron's bag of backfiring wands they're laughing at.'

"What?" Ginny was still confused.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "What I got Harry... can't be present... in
public."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Hermione! Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione caught on to Ginny's insinuation. In horror, Hermione began to shake her head.
"No, no, no! That's not what I meant! What I meant was-"

"Oy! 'Mione! Where's your present?" hollered George over all the noise.

Hermione turned towards the clump of boys. "I..."

"It's not here," Harry offered, giving Hermione a look that simply told her to go
along with him.

"Why?" asked Fred.

"Because," replied Harry, "it simply can't... be here right now."

"Oooh," dragged out George once more, giving Fred a Look, "*it can't be
here right now*."

Fred laughed at winked at Harry and Hermione respectively. "Just leave it there, mates,
just leave it there."

Hermione felt her face burning brick red. She covered her face with her hands and thanked the
gods that the boys had an attention span of goats, as they had already turned back to open more
gifts.

"You know," Hermione heard Ginny say, "I can't tell that's not what you
meant... But is it such a bad idea?"

Hermione squeaked. "Gin! Listen to what you're saying."

Ginny laughed, seemingly *at* Hermione, not with her. "Listen. I'd bet all of the
galleons in the Malfoy vault that Harry really, really likes you, and I know I'm right when I
say that you love him. Don't even try to deny it. And tonight... Well, we *are* making up
for him miserable birthday, aren't we? Wouldn't... *that*... be a perfect way to end
the night?"

Even surprising herself, Hermione didn't turn the idea down right away. Was it really that
bad of an idea? Ginny seemed so sure of it, and she didn't even know half of what Hermione
knew. And after their afternoon together, Hermione was even more sure of Harry's true feelings
for her; she was sure of the fact that everything he had told her in her dreams had been true and
validated.

"Don't even lie to yourself, 'Mione," Ginny said on top of the boy's awe
at Harry's new Quidditch goggles. "I don't think I'm lying when I say that you
wouldn't mind it yourself."

----

Later that night, after all the festivities had been wrapped up and visions of Harry blowing out
his candles from the pumpkin pie Hermione had baked had been tucked neatly away into the minds of
the sleeping, Hermione lay awake in her bed, fully dressed.

She would have loved to say that she didn't even entertain the idea of visiting Harry's
room that night, but the fact was that she had, and she was thinking about it very seriously, to
boot. Ginny was fast asleep, and Hermione knew how much she hated to be woken up, even in this dire
time of need.

"Not sure, are you?" Oh, she wasn't asleep.

"No. Not at all."

"Listen," said Ginny as she leaned towards Hermione. "If it were me, I'd do
it."

"Would you really?"

"Honestly, Hermione, I would. I think he really likes you, and I know I don't know half
of what you do. I know you're holding back from me, and that's okay, because everyone has
their secrets. But really, 'Mione, if I don't even know the juicy bits, *and* I'm
still sure it's a great idea, that should tell you something, shouldn't it?"

Hermione stayed silent, hugging her knees to her chest and looking out the window at the pitch
black night.

"Look," Ginny said quietly from her bed, "you love him, and that's the main
idea in what you're thinking about. As long as you love him, you can do anything. Listen to
what I'm saying: you *love* him. Do something about it."

Hermione failed to answer and continued to gaze out the window. It was true, simply put; she
loved Harry. And, at this point, she was sure he loved her back. So what was holding her back?

Nothing, really. Nothing was holding her back.

As she got up from her bed, she saw a smirk form on Ginny's face in the dark.

Hermione smirked back. "I'm doing this 'cause I told myself to, not you
Gin."

"Fair enough."

----

Hermione stood outside the door to his bedroom, hopping from one foot to the other. She was
already so nervous, this hesitation wasn't helping at all. But she was starting to get cold
feet - the anxiety she was harbouring had been enough to cause her to chew right through her own
lip. She tasted the blood coming from her bottom lip as she hesitated outside his door.

A compelling force caused her to push the door open before she had deemed herself ready. Cursing
the squeaky hinges, she treaded quietly over to the bed. She saw Harry, sleeping on his side and
curled up in a ball. She began to chew her lip again. She couldn't stop now - not after his
adorable form was presented in front of her, as if on show.

Slowly and ever so timidly, Hermione rid herself of her dressing gown, leaving her only in her
favourite bra and panties set. Reassuring herself of her intentions, she moved towards Harry.

She leaned on the bed as she began to rub the small of his back, as he had done when he hugged
her earlier that day. She felt him stir at her touch. She continued to rub his back gently as she
leaned forward to kiss his neck teasingly, urging him to wake up. She kissed him in a what she
hoped was sensual manner, bringing her hand from his back to tangle up in his hair. When Hermione
felt Harry begin to respond to her, as if he was arriving to consciousness, she gently pushed him
onto his back.

Smiling wickedly, she moved to straddle him, with one leg on either side of his hips. Throwing
the covers right off of the bed, because they would do nothing but get in the way, Hermione took in
a big breath before leaning in towards Harry. Placing her hands on the sides of his face and
feeling his soft cheeks grazed with the slightest bit of stubble, she moved quickly and
instantaneously covered his lips with her own. Harry began to work with her automatically, bringing
his hands up to touch her hair and playing with her lips and tongue, teasing and nipping at her
with his teeth.

Hermione pulled back and watched and Harry slowly began to open his eyes. Hermione bit her lip
as a look of recognition, surprise, then appreciation began to filter through Harry's
expression. A faint smile crossed his lips as he looked her up and down. Hermione smiled, feeling
her eyes crinkling in return. He looked back up at her, returning her gaze.

"'Mione, I-" Hermione refused to let him continue, and quickly placed her hand
atop his mouth.

Putting on what she hoped was a seductive look, Hermione leaned forward and began to pick apart
the buttons on Harry's pyjamas as he looked on. "Don't say anything," she said
quietly as she divested him of his top.

A faint growl came from the back of Harry's throat. "'Mione..."

Hermione layered Harry's body with her own, and once again began to kiss him with vigour.
Pulling back slightly, so that she knew Harry could still feel her breath on his lips, she
whispered, "Shh... I want this too, Harry."

As Harry closed his eyes and threw his head back onto his pillow, Hermione raked her nails
lightly along his chest. Feeling the faint muscle tone that was inevitably the result of Quidditch,
along with whatever other things he had been doing to keep up form, she heard him moan, his voice
momentarily higher than normal.

Laughing inwardly, Hermione threw herself back onto Harry, kissing him devoutly and
passionately. She tried to concentrate on the movement and union of their lips, tongues and teeth,
when Harry's mouth began to administer heated kisses elsewhere. Hermione arched her back as
Harry's lips met her chin, then neck, then collarbone. When he began to nibble slightly at the
edge of her bra, Hermione only slightly felt his attempt at undoing her undergarment. Only when he
took his lips off of her did she realize he was having trouble. Purring encouragingly, she removed
it herself. In an effort to redeem himself, Harry latched on to her left breast, caressing her
nipple with his tongue, while he massaged her other with his hand.

Hermione heard herself moaning incoherently, writhing against Harry's body beneath her. His
lips continued to pay service to her chest, but the feeling of Harry's hands roaming along her
body felt too good to ignore. She felt his fingertips ghost along the line of her panties guarding
her backside. Rubbing her hips against his, she immediately got Harry reacting, as he quickly
slipped his hands underneath the unwanted cotton barrier.

Hermione growled into their kiss, feral need beginning to build up inside of her. Her hands
tangled up in Harry's hair once again, and she intertwined her feet with his.

Harry broke the kiss and, with a quick and easy move of his arms, had her underneath him in a
reversal of position. She raised her head when she felt him easily slide her panties down and off
of her legs, and watched him begin to kiss his way back up. He slowly made his way, kissing the
back of her knee sensually. Hermione realized, though, what his destination was. Quickly, she put
her hands on top of her auburn curls, still embarrassed at the idea.

"Not yet," she said, quickly and quietly.

Harry didn't seem to mind, as he continued to kiss his way towards her. Paying extra
attention to her breasts, Hermione was blatantly moaning before Harry finally kissed her outright.
He quickly pulled away from her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"May I?" he asked. It took a moment for Hermione to realize that his hand was situated
at the border of her auburn curls, waiting for permission. The idea was so adorable that she
couldn't help but nod, and she instantly felt his hand on her nether lips. She felt him begin
to kiss and nibble at her neck. All of a sudden, white hot pleasure ripped through her, as Harry
began to rub the miniscule nub of flesh that could only elicit pleasured sounds.

Seemingly at her outburst, Harry began to apply more pressure and rub at a faster pace. Hermione
felt herself bucking underneath him, moving in rhythm with his hand. Her breathing was getting
faster and raspier, and finally, she felt she had to pull away before she couldn't anymore.

Hermione felt Harry's brow furrow against her neck. Pulling him up to eye-level with her,
she whispered, "Your turn."

With help from Harry, Hermione flipped the two of them over, and sensing the grin of
anticipation on Harry's face, quickly yet coyly ripped the rest of the boy's clothes
off.

She was hit with the reality of the situation once she looked down to see Harry's fully
erect cock staring her in the face. Although, she was in too deep to back out now, and frankly, she
didn't believe she would, even if she was given the chance.

With her eyes never leaving Harry's, she trailed her hand down his body to take him fully in
her hand. Harry's eyes closed quickly, and his jaw went slack as she began to stroke him
firmly. Encouraged by the look of pleasure on his face, Hermione tentatively leaned down, and with
a deep breath, licked quickly at the tip of his penis.

Harry instantly bucked up, moaning quietly. Biting her lip, Hermione got more comfortable, and
after swallowing quickly she slowly took all of him into her mouth. She heard Harry let out a large
breath of air and she began to bob up and down. Holding the base of him in her hand, she let her
tongue slide along the underside.

Hearing the rather desperate noises coming from Harry, Hermione let him slip from her mouth.
Seeing his head immediately snap up to see what happened, she crawled up along his body to straddle
him once again. She looked into his eyes; he looked as though he could hardly believe this was
happening to him.

She couldn't believe it either, frankly. As she began to position herself directly above his
member, she decided how she would go about doing this. With a quick wink at Harry, she dropped
herself on top of him, resulting in a loud gasp from both Harry and herself.

Hermione closed her eyes tightly, trying to decrease the amount of pain she was encountering.
Yes, she had heard it would hurt, but she could never have been sure just how much it would affect
her. Heavy breathing on Harry's part caused her to open her eyes. Seeing the slack-jawed look
on his face compelled her to move on.

She began to roll her hips against him, creating only the slightest bit of friction that she
could handle without grimacing. Harry began to respond almost courteously, with his eyes shut tight
this time. Hermione reached out to grab his hands as she gradually increased the intensity of her
movements. With Harry's encouraging moans, she began to bounce on him outright; the pain
hadn't left, but it wasn't as intense as it had been.

Harry's pleasure, though, was compensation enough. To know that it was her he seemed to want
so badly had her smiling. As she continued to move up and down, Harry let go of her hands and
opened his eyes to watch himself caress Hermione's breasts. Hermione looked down as well, and
the sight sent a jolt of lightening through her own body. She threw her head back and began to move
quicker on top of him.

Quickly, Harry began to match her thrust for thrust, eventually grabbing hold of Hermione's
hips and moving her to his speed. His moans and groans became louder and more frequent, and
Hermione watched intently. The intense speed he had set her at created a friction that pooled in
her lower body and a final groan on Harry's part, combined with the look of writhing pleasure
on his face sent her over the edge. She stopped moving as a blinding happiness coursed through
her.

Suddenly, Harry switched positions with her once again. Hermione wrapped her hands around his
neck as he began to pump into her at a blinding pace. She pulled him into a fierce kiss, no longer
able to hold back the noise she had needed to let out.

Slowly, as she began to come down from her natural high, she felt Harry still and moan into
their kiss. She felt his release and continued to kiss him as he let go.

A few moments later they both lay gasping on Harry's bed, trying to gain control of their
hearts. Without a sound, however, Harry guided Hermione onto her back, and without even saying so
much as a goodnight, rested his head on her shoulder. With a single kiss to his forehead, Hermione
intertwined her feet with Harry's, and decided that she had never, ever, convinced herself of
doing anything better than this.



6. Chapter Six
--------------

**Disclaimer:**

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various
publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books,
and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is
intended.

**Note:**

Thank you so, so, so much for reading the story; it was a serious labour of love, so I
appreciate everything!

**----**

**Chapter 6**

Hermione fought the urge to open her eyes as she felt someone playing with her hair. She smiled
as she felt a hand comb itself through her undoubtedly tangled locks, stirring slightly as to
encourage them. When she felt lips descend upon her neck, however, her eyes shot open.

It felt just like a dream, *the* dream, yet it was different. It was real. The initial
shock of the situation dissipated quickly when the memories of the night before began to flood back
into her mind.

Not that it was easy to forget what she had decided to do; no, it was a life-altering experience
that would be burned into her memory forever.

All thoughts exited her head once she felt Harry's tongue playing on her neck. Arching
slightly towards him, she once again closed her eyes, giving in to the sensations Harry was
beginning to build. She bit her lip as she felt his own lips trail up her neck, nipping and
suckling and finally latching onto her ear. He began to nibble on her earlobe, eliciting a moan
from Hermione. Such a strong feeling so early in the morning had to be against some sort of law.
She felt him grin against her skin and in reply, she shifted so she was directly underneath
him.

She looked up to see Harry's eyes void of anything but laughter and happiness; he definitely
wasn't tired anymore. Reaching her head up, she met Harry in a passionate kiss, tilting her
head to the side so she could get closer to him. Spurred on by the look in his eyes coupled with
his eagerness, Hermione parted her lips and slipped her tongue out. Harry immediately responded,
giving her access; her tongue met his in an erotic sort of conversation, twisting around and
enveloping each other's in their respective passion for each other.

Harry pulled away suddenly, licking the moisture off his lips as he locked his eyes with
Hermione's. "Good morning, 'Mione," he said.

Hermione cleared her throat in an attempt to sound respectable. "Yes it is, Harry." It
had failed, her voice was heavy with lust, sounding hoarse and slightly crackly. "I know you
must have some questions... but first things first. You wake me like this, you need to finish what
you started." She latched her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him towards her,
immediately beginning where they had left off.

The soft moan Harry let out gave Hermione a sudden burst of confidence. Letting her hands stray
away from his neck, she wandered down his back, imprinting little designs with his fingernails. She
came to rest on his backside, and while grinning into the kiss, she gave it a little squeeze. Harry
made a little noise with his mouth a mix between a grunt and a moan, inevitably showing Hermione
she was in complete control.

With a newfound belief in herself, Hermione trailed the tips of her fingers around his hips; she
opened her eyes to watch his face as she tentatively grasped onto him with both hands. His eyes
closed tighter and a gasp came from his mouth, giving Hermione reason to move her hand. As she
began to stroke him, low groans began to come from Harry's throat, making Hermione giggle at
the vibrating sensation it evoked in their kiss.

Her giggles turned to gasps, however, when Harry pulled from the kiss forcefully and immediately
descended upon her breast. His tongue and teeth playing together on her nipple caused a shooting
pleasure to caress her spine, ultimately pooling in her lower back. She refused to let go of him,
however, and soon they were moaning together, filling the room with a lustful sort of music.

Hermione gasped one last time before shifting once more underneath Harry. As she positioned
herself so he was resting in between her legs, she used her grip on him to guide his body towards
her own awaiting one. Looking into his eyes, she saw lust, urgency, amusement, but also something
else - something that Hermione could only pinpoint as a willingness to commit... Or something. Her
mind wasn't working properly, but she knew this wasn't just about sex.

He smiled as he pushed himself into her. Still feeling slightly uncomfortable, Hermione let out
an involuntary gasp, shutting her eyes briefly until the feeling subsided. Harry began to move
slowly, perhaps helping her get used to the sensation. She looked up and petted his cheek, letting
her fingers trail along his sweaty brow. He grinned slightly, and slowly he moved to wrap his arms
behind her, bending forward so their bodies touched with every movement.

She could feel the pleasure pooling in her back once more as their bodies rubbed together every
time Harry pulled out or pushed in. When he bent his head forward to kiss her neck, she heard
herself whimper and closed her eyes to give in to the feelings he was creating within her. Her
arousal began to skyrocket as he pushed his weight onto her even more, creating more friction.
This, coupled with his tongue drawing patterns along her collarbone sent her over the edge, gasping
in pleasure as she bucked up towards him. In her euphoria she felt him let go after her, emitting a
sole grunt and his arms gave out and he rested completely atop her.

They lay there a few moments, allowing their breathing to return to normal. Hermione finally
opened her eyes and looked down at Harry; he was looking up at her, and once they made eye contact
he slowly leaned towards her. She met him halfway in a sated, satisfied kiss. Hermione felt Harry
move his hips and with a small sound, pulled himself completely out of her.

"How did you know this was what I wanted?" he asked shyly. "Did you hear me
talking in my sleep?"

Hermione chuckled quietly as she pushed herself up to lean on her elbows. "In a manner of
speaking. I'm pretty sure that you've been entering my dreams."

Harry's mouth created a perfect "o" shape in his surprise. "Your dreams?!
How?" he asked in wonder.

"My best guess is that you've worked so hard on your Occlumency defence that you
flipped it into Legilemency and entered my dreams," she said aloud for the first time; what a
relief it was to finally be able to admit her suspicions. "Exactly how, I don't
know."

Harry flipped over to lay beside her. "I've been concentrating on your face, especially
your beautiful eyes, when I go to sleep for about the last week. I felt consumed by them. I
didn't have nightmares when I did it the first time, so I keep doing it." There was hardly
any volume to his voice as he looked determinedly at their feet.

"So," Hermione replied, brow furrowed, "somehow you created a conduit to my
dreams that way."

Harry nodded. "So, my dream with you and me in that candlelit room...?"

Hermione felt her face burn up at the implied question. Looking away, she replied, "...Was
one of my, um - normal - snogging dreams."

Hermione looked up when she didn't hear Harry reply, only to see him shaking his head.
"I'm sorry," he began, "I feel like I invaded your privacy somehow."

"You didn't know. Besides, we probably never would have found out how we really felt
about each other if you didn't," she concluded simply.

"And the rest?"

Hermione felt herself blush once again. Although, she was quick to realize that there was no
reason to lie anymore - the feelings were mutual, and skirting around the truth would probably only
create more problems. Looking over at Harry, she saw that he really wanted to know.

She took a deep breath. "The tropical hut was what I dreamed our honeymoon would be; but it
had changed from the way it always happens and it suddenly stopped. I was worried about you after
that night, so I had *my* nightmare about you dieing, and me helpless to prevent it. Again it
had changed, you had confessed your feelings towards me. The next day I noticed something you said
from that dream. You called me your snitch. I couldn't help it, but it turned me on all day
long and that night I had the most vividly sexual dream I have ever had." She forced herself
to look at Harry. "I was beginning to think that you were actually in my dreams. But the way
you said you didn't want me to be around you the next day hurt and confused me. Don't
worry, Harry. You've already more than made up for it," she said quickly, noticing the
look of shame crossing his features.

"Anyways, I started thinking about everything we've been through, trying to figure it
out. I wanted to know if I was just imagining that you were in my dreams, or if it was real, by
trying to sort through my memories to find the truth. That must have manifested as the library in
my dream, the place I go for all the answers. When you showed up, I simply had to ask you. If you
remember, I was a little overjoyed by your answers.

"Yesterday, as I watched you write in your journal, happier than I saw you in a long time,
the pieces seemed to come together. I decided to act. I risked everything last night when I came to
you. Believe me Harry, when I say it was worth it." She finished, breathless, searching his
eyes for any reaction, hoping to Merlin he wouldn't be affronted or angered, for some reason,
by her confession.

She had said all that she had thought, going over her endless conversations with Ginny, along
with her debates and dilemmas she battled out with herself. Anything and everything that had
bothered her in the past week, especially, had been told to Harry just now. If he rejected any of
it, well, in essence he'd be rejecting her and her thoughts.

To her relief, though, Harry leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes lightly as she
concentrated on the feel of his lips hovering over hers.

"I thought you were another dream," he said quietly. Moving in closer, he finally
kissed her, distracting Hermione from any form of conversation.

She pulled away slowly, keeping her eyes closed until she began to speak. "It doesn't
have to be like that anymore."

To her dismay, Harry looked down at the bed. He was silent for some time, long enough to get
Hermione worrying. As she watched him pick on a spot on the bedclothes, she bit her lip, hoping
he's say something, *anything*, that would give her an answer to her suggestion.

Almost as soon as Hermione opened her mouth to tentatively ask what was wrong, Harry looked back
up at her, eyes filled with worry and anxiety. Hermione immediately closed her own mouth, already
worrying about what Harry had to say.

"Hermione," he said quietly, "it's time I tell you about the
Prophecy..."

Hermione crinkled her brow. "Harry... what are you saying?"

He sighed deeply as he reached behind them both to retrieve something from his night table.
"When Mrs. Weasley sent me up here yesterday, while you girls were getting everything ready
for the party, I started writing in my journal... It's pretty rough, of course, but it's
important, both to me and, well... Everyone else. I want you to hear it."

Hermione wasn't sure what to feel. As she looked at the expression of solemnity on
Harry's face, she knew this was important. Trying to keep her own emotions in check, yet still
not quite sure what to expect, she nodded.

Harry handed her his notebook - the one she had given him and the one he had pulled from his
night stand, and dropped it in her lap. Biting her lip, she picked it up as she watched Harry start
to fidget with the sheets again.

"Do you want me to read it?" she asked.

"Yes. Please."

"Okay."

Taking a final look at Harry, she glanced down at the journal's open pages. Page after page
was filled with drawings of her, just as she had felt them the day before. Her mouth hung open as
she flipped through them, unable to believe the sheer passion that had seemed to go into them.

"They're beautiful," she said softly without looking up.

"Thanks," was the equally soft reply.

"I didn't know you could draw."

"Neither did I. Keep reading."

Hermione nodded. Flipping the page, she came to the first full page of text he had written in
the journal. Coughing, as though to prepare herself, she settled in to the bed and began to
read.

*I never thought I could draw... Well, I still don't think I can draw, but even looking
over the pictures I drew of Hermione, I can still even see how beautiful she is. She's
gorgeous, even when she's not here in person. I don't know what she'd ever think of me
if she saw these drawings; she'd probably think I'm some sort of maniac. But it helps me;
she helps me. She calms me down, which is a task I've found nearly impossible. It's hard
for me to just sit and breathe without worrying about something or someone, but with her, it's
almost like I can take a break from everything just being with her.*

*It's amazing how much I can count on her, how easy it is for her to trust me and believe
in me. I always feel a little bit better knowing that Hermione's on my side and that believes
in what I say. She's always been there for me, even when Ron and I were being pricks to her
during the Third Year about the Firebolt, and even in Fourth when Ron and I were fighting a
ridiculously stupid fight. Even if I'm being a prat, she's behind me... It's like she
knows that I'll let up and see the light. It's almost as though she knows I need
her.*

*And how do I pay her back? I go against everything she said to me last year. All throughout
the term, she told me that Voldemort was just trying to get into my head, that he was toying with
me. And, finally, when he put his plan into action, I threw everything she said out the window and
endangered everyone's lives. Especially hers. I don't know if I would be able to go on if
she had died... Watching her fall, it felt like it was all going in slow-motion, with her eyes open
wide and her stiff body falling carelessly towards the ground... Sirius was enough. Sirius was more
than enough, I didn't know how to continue after that. If Hermione had died – I don't want
to know how much worse off I'd be.*

*It's all because of that stupid Prophecy. Why couldn't Dumbledore have told me about
it earlier? What was the harm in letting me know? Well, whatever. It's not like I'll ever
forget it now:*

*"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have
thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,
but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hand of the other for
neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be
born as the seventh month dies."*

*I haven't let anyone know yet. I'm not sure why, though. I really, really want to
tell Hermione; sometimes she's the only one I feel like talking to. Something, though...
Something's holding me back for letting her know about it. But I know if I tell her what went
on with Dumbledore in his office, she'll be scared for me, and worry for me. She doesn't
need to worry about me, I'm a big boy. ...And it's not only that, either. If she continues
to worry about me, she'll continue to put herself into danger. I hate how everyone around me is
at risk of getting hurt. How many times have I contemplated just telling everyone to sod off so
they'll leave me alone and live normal lives? If it meant that she was going to be safe, I
would seriously think of doing it. But sometimes I think I need her too much to push her away like
that. The least I can do is keep her at sea with the stupid Prophecy.*

Hermione stared open-mouthed at Harry's journal. Of course she had wondered what the two had
ever talked about, and why Harry had been even more sombre after leaving Dumbledore's office,
but she never thought it was anything like this. This... Prophecy was practically predicting his
death. Either his death, of course, or Voldemort's.

Tears pricked up in her eyes as she subconsciously envisioned Harry fighting a powerful
Voldemort, standing three feet smaller than the horrid monster her mind had made up. Shaking her
head, she rid her vision of her mind. She couldn't be thinking of things like that; not when
Harry had just opened up to her and shared all that he had refused to share a month previous.
Hermione rubbed the tears away from her eyes and looked up at Harry. He was looking away and out of
the window, an anguished expression on his face.

He had been really hesitant to share with her, that much she could tell. And it seemed almost as
though he didn't want to talk about it, he just wanted her to know. He wanted her as his
solace, a living, breathing person instead of a room he had to climb squeaky stairs to get to. He
wanted a person that trusted him and believed him, someone that took him for face value.

Harry wanted someone that would listen to what he had to say, but would remained unchanged in
their view of him.

Harry, Hermione realized, wanted her.

"So," she began shakily. She waited until Harry turned to face her; she took his hand
in hers and put on a timid smile. "You think I'm gorgeous?"