Dislaimer: I own nothing, am affiliated with nothing, and get no money for doing this.
Author's Note 1: And thank you Rini, for being insanely intelligent and willing to beta my insane, comma-obsessive fics. You are simply brilliant!
Author's Note 2: So I've finally decided to break my fic up into chapters! There are two reasons for this: 1.) Because a reviewer suggested this, and 2.) It just makes sense with this fic.
Thanks for the warm Portkey welcome!
*~*~*~*~*
The rain splattered on her face, wiping away the blood. She stood there, in front of him, protecting him. He was so weak…he tried to push her away, but she refused. "No," he said, "I won't let you do this."
But she wasn't as badly hurt as he was, and for the life of him he couldn't push her away.
"Stand aside, silly girl…" the cold, malicious voice said. "Although it would bring him great pain to see you die before him, you could prove to be…quite valuable in the future, after I win this war…" he said this last part with what one would call a licentious grin.
"I won't let you do this," Harry whispered in her ear.
"I don't care what you say! Take me, please! Not Harry! Please, take me…kill me instead…"
"Please, you know this has nothing to do with you," Harry pleaded. " I won't let you do this; you'll die for nothing," and with all the strength he could muster, he pushed her away.
"Finally," the cold voice said, and cast his spell…
Hermione woke up screaming. As if sitting outside her room, Harry suddenly appeared at her bedside.
"Harry, it was so awful," she began with a sob. "I saw it, I saw it all over again, just like every night. I felt it again, the terror…oh my god Harry I thought you were going to die! I thought you would die and I couldn't stop it…"
"Shh…" Harry soothed her. He held her in his arms, rocking her gently. "Shh…its all right. Its over, and I survived. I defeated him, shh…"
"No, Harry! You could've died! You could've died and then what would have become of me?" Hermione continued cry into Harry's chest. Some deep part of her knew this was silly, knew that this was all past, but she refused to let go.
It had been two months since the end of her seventh year at Hogwarts, two months since the end of the war. Of course everyone was relieved; the war had ended, Harry Potter had once again saved the day, and most everyone moved on with the rest of their lives.
But not her. She wouldn't let go, couldn't let go. For the past seven years of her life, her focus had been Harry's safety. Her life had revolved around his welfare, and the main threat to this was Voldemort. Now with Voldemort gone, everyone assumed that from now on Harry would be safe; he was the most powerful wizard alive of course.
But that still didn't comfort Hermione. No one else, save Ron, knew how close of a call it had been. No one knew that however powerful Harry may be, he was still human, and he could've died that night.
She hated thinking about the possibility; hated it when it replayed over and over and over in her head. It plagued her dreams, turning them into nightmares; the fear was constantly with her while she was awake. She could be making a pot of coffee, and then his voice, telling her to stand aside, would make the hairs on the back of her neck tingle, and she would drop the pot and it would shatter…
At work, she would feel the rain on her face, and lose all concentration…even to this day she had yet to go out in the rain; she would stay in, and make Harry stay with her.
Despite the fact that she had seen Harry defeat Voldemort right before her eyes, even though she knew the war was over, the protective instincts she'd been honing and nurturing for the past seven years had yet to leave her. She remained in constant worry…every day that passed, she would ask herself: Is Voldemort really gone? Is there not some way that he could be brought back, with even greater power, and with a greater desire to seek vengeance against Harry?
"He cannot come back, Hermione," Harry said reassuringly. Being an accomplished legilimens he could sense, if not outright read, her thoughts.
"Why are you so sure? He's come back so many times, he…"
"Hermione, you know that when he took my blood, he became mortal. In sixth year, we stopped him from achieving immortality, and then two months ago I killed him…"
Hermione nodded; they've had this same conversation almost every night for the past two months. At first, Ron was always there as well, but ever since his Quidditch schedule with the Cannons went from slightly taxing to downright grueling, nothing, not even Hermione's screaming, could wake him up at night.
Upon hearing a slight snore emanate from Harry, who had suddenly ceased his comforting ministrations, Hermione felt a pang of guilt; she'd been keeping him up every night.
"Harry…" she cooed quietly.
Harry awoke with a start. "What is it? Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine." Hermione assured. "If you want…you can go back to your room and sleep now. I'm quite all right now."
Harry grabbed a strand of her hair, and tucked it behind her ear. "Are you sure you'll be able to sleep now?" He asked, deep concern apparent in his tone.
"Yes of course. I'll be fine. Simply smashing," Hermione said, trying her best to smile.
Harry gave her a quick peck on the forehead. "If you say so," he said. "Goodnight, Hermione."
"Goodnight Harry," Hermione said, feigning a sleepy yawn.
When Harry closed the door behind him, Hermione just laid there in the dark, sleep being the furthest thing from her mind.
*~*~*~*~*
The next morning Hermione, who sometime during the night had drifted off into a fitful sleep, awoke to the smell of warm coffee.
Grumpily, she jumped out of bed, put on her fuzzy pink slippers, and skipped down the stairs into the kitchen.
After Sirius died he left Grimmauld place to Harry in his will. After the war ended, and the Order was dismantled, (at least, until such a time when it would again be needed) Harry decided he wanted to move in.
Many thought him mad wanting to move into a house that Sirius hated and that represented so much evil. But, for that same reason, Harry decided to move in. As a last service to Sirius, he wanted to renovate the place, and make it the house he knew Sirius would have wanted.
Naturally, the house did need quite a bit of work. Though Mrs. Weasley did manage to clean the place up quite a bit, the house still seemed like a tomb. Of course, Harry could never engage in such a transformation alone, so he invited Hermione and Ron to move in with him. Of course, Ron was delighted to finally leave his overpopulated home, and Hermione was pleased to have a place in close proximity to her job.
Another perk was of course being able to watch over Harry whenever he was at home.
When she entered the kitchen Hermione was not at all surprised to find Ron there, sitting at the table with a big mug of steaming coffee in front of him reading the Daily Prophet.
He looked well rested and happy; he was even whistling!
Hermione wanted to throttle him.
"Well then, you seem to have slept well," Hermione said crossly.
Ron seemed like he hadn't heard, or decided to ignore, her tone. "Why good morning Hermione."
Hermione simply huffed, and walked straight across to the coffee pot. As she was pouring herself a cup, Harry walked in, looking like a child whose mother just made him wake up early for school.
Hermione felt her stomach turn over in guilt. "Coffee, Harry?" she asked, handing over the mug she had just poured herself.
"Don't mind if I ahhh…" Harry stopped mid-sentence, trying to stifle a yawn.
Ron inspected both of them suspiciously. "Both of you seem awfully tired this morning."
Hermione glared at him, while Harry insipidly drank from his coffee.
"Perhaps, if you had removed your head from out your arse, you would have realized that I had another nightmare last night…" Hermione said grouchily.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh…you had a nightmare, did you? I'm sorry I didn't set my alarm clock to this little schedule you've got going on. Remind me tonight why don't you? Seeing as how the world revolves around you, and that my Quidditch career pales in comparison to your needs…"
"Oh shut it Ron! Don't you understand how hard this is for me? I…"
"Children, please! Lets get along," Harry said, trying to calm the escalating argument. "Ron, be patient with Hermione. She's tired; she hasn't slept in two months. Hermione, please understand Ron. He has to work hard at Quidditch everyday…"
"Oh yes, as if our jobs aren't any more strenuous?" Hermione spat. "We're Aurors, Harry! And you, you're there for me every night, while this good for nothing git…"
"Oh shove it, Hermione!" Ron began, "If you would just…"
"Silencio!" Harry exclaimed, his hand in the air between them. "Now, I promise to give you both your voices back if you promise to be civil."
Ron and Hermione nodded like first years being scolded by McGonagall.
"Finite Incantatem."
Both their voices returned, but it was as if Harry had done nothing, for Ron continued in the same patronizing voice he had been using before. "If you would just get some therapy, Hermione, you would rid yourself of your nightmares, and let poor Harry have some peace in his life."
Hermione looked like she was about to retort with some reason why therapy was completely absurd, as she most usually did when Ron brought the subject up, but she then heard Harry stifle another yawn. What am I doing? She thought to herself. I'm destroying Harry…
"You're perfectly right, Ron," Hermione said grudgingly.
Ron's mouth fell open in astonishment; even Harry seemed quite astounded at this new development.
"I'll go find a suitable therapist today."
*~*~*~*~*
Hermione stood outside the office of Dr. Parvati Patil.
At first, Hermione toyed with the idea of going to a Muggle therapist. She already had her cover story planned out; she would tell the therapist that she had seen her best friend almost get killed by a Columbian druglord, but at the pivotal moment, her friend managed to get the upper hand and kill the druglord himself.
But then, how would she explain the irrational fear that this Druglord, who is presumably mortal, would all of a sudden come back to life and go after said friend?
No, she decided that the best course of action would be to visit a magical therapist. However, she knew that whomever she came across would immediately recognize her.
When looking up prominent therapists, Hermione had come across Parvati's name. Of course, Hermione was amazed that someone so short out of Hogwarts could already be practicing licensed therapy, but then she remembered the death toll. Apparently, the war had the one positive effect of leaving the job market much more open to the newly graduated students.
However insensitive that may sound.
Hermione herself, and even Harry had benefited from this. Two months short of Hogwarts, and they were already senior level Aurors. Of course, the Ministry would have been foolish not to accept them with the repertoire they had already built up, but still, would this have happened if there hadn't been a war?
Naturally, Hermione debated whether she wanted to be treated by Parvati, not because of her age or experience, (she'd probably had a lot of people needing therapy so soon after the war) but because she knew Hermione. They'd been in the same house, and dorm together for the past seven years, and she was afraid she'd be biased in her treatment.
Then there was that little thing with Harry. Parvati and Harry had dated during their sixth year, albeit briefly. However, Parvati remained bitter awhile after the breakup, and blamed it all on Hermione. Of course Hermione assured Parvati that she was talking pure rubbish, and seeing that Harry and Hermione didn't make a move towards each other, Parvati forgave Hermione and all was well.
Then of course, there was that other thing. But no, of course no, that wasn't at all relevant…
In the end, it was precisely for this history that Hermione chose Parvati. She wouldn't be like any other witch or wizard, asking curious questions, because Parvati was there all along.
And if anyone understood the complex nature of Harry and Hermione's friendship, it was Parvati, for she witnessed its growth first hand.
Resolving to get it over worth, Hermione charged into the room. Parvati's office, small, though comfortable, was decorated quite in the same manner as a Muggle therapist's office would be: dark leather chairs, mahogany furniture, and generic plants.
Parvati had her back to the door, and without even turning around, she firmly announced, "If you have no appointment, please leave, make one, and I will aid you at the proper time."
"I'm sorry to barge in like this, Parvati," Hermione said quietly.
Parvati turned around, a wide smile on her face. "Hermione Granger!" she exclaimed happily. Then, her joyful smile at seeing an old friend was quickly replaced with surprise. "What on earth are you doing here?"
Hermione slumped onto the nearest chair, her eyes tearing up. "I can't sleep Parvati. I see it, I see it all the time…"
Alarm etched all over her face, Parvati knelt on the floor next to Hermione, her big beautiful black eyes also welling up with tears.
The War was a particular dark subject with her, for she and Padma had also lost their parents in it. Though many clients came to her, traumatized by the loss of a loved one, no other patient's agony had so moved her like Hermione's, which was quite natural as Hermione was the only patient to have had first hand experience fighting You-Know-Who himself.
"Tell me," Parvati pleaded. Hermione nodded, and began to describe it all.
"Take Ron to safety!" Harry bellowed at Hermione, who was presently making her way toward him.
They were in front of the Riddle House; the storm that clashed above them in the clouds reflected the storm they were currently weathering on the ground.
"No!" Hermione yelled. "I can't leave you! Ron will be ok, he's only been knocked unconscious…"
"I demand you to leave, Hermione!" Harry roared. "You cannot be here!"
"Yes, silly girl," Voldemort's cold voice snarled. "Take your stupid friend and go! The fight is between me, and this boy…"
Hermione ignored both of them, and continued to limp toward Harry.
"Fine, have it your way. Crucio!" Voldemort yelled, his wand pointed at Harry. Harry screamed; he was too weak, unable to fight off the curse.
"Stop it!" Hermione screamed. "Just stop it! Expelliarmus!" Hermione yelled, pointing her wand at Voldemort.
Voldemort's wand flew out of his hand, and he looked up at her in surprise. "The foolish mudblood has spunk."
Taking advantage of Voldemort's momentary incapacity, Hermione lunged at Harry, and helped him up. Upon seeing Voldemort's wand back in his hand, Hermione placed herself before Harry in a protective stance.
The rain splattered on her face, wiping away the blood, evidence of a past duel with Bellatrix Lestrange. She stood there, in front of him, protecting him. He was so weak…too weak…he tried to push her away, but she refused. "No," he said, "I won't let you do this."
But she wasn't as badly hurt as he was, and for the life of him he couldn't push her away.
"Stand aside, silly girl…" the cold, malicious voice said. "Although it would bring him great pain to see you die before him, you could prove to be…quite valuable in the future, after I win this war…" he said this last part with what one would call a licentious grin.
"I won't let you do this," Harry whispered in her ear.
Ignoring Harry, Hermione addressed Voldemort. "I don't care what you say! Take me, please! Not Harry! Please, take me…kill me instead…"
"Please, you know this has nothing to do with you," Harry pleaded. "I won't let you do this; you'll die for nothing," and with all the strength he could muster, he pushed her away.
"Finally," the cold voice said, and cast his spell…
Hermione stopped, unable to continue because her sobs had become uncontrollable. Parvati herself, the licensed therapist in the room, had already gone through a whole pack of Tempo tissues.
"Parvati…I can't anymore, I just can't!" Hermione managed to say between sobs. "I see it all the time, day in, and day out. I see it while I'm awake! I dream it while I'm asleep! I can't sleep! Every night I wake up screaming, and Harry rushes to my side like the great big heroic git he is. I can't even let him sleep anymore, and I know this is taking its toll on him. Sometimes, I see him passed out at work…please, what can I do? Tell me what to do! I'll do anything, short of getting myself addicted to The Draught of Living Death."
Parvati wiped her eyes with tissue, and nodded. In an effort to compose herself, she got up, walked behind her desk, and sat down. However, you could see that she wasn't too steady on her feet.
In an instant, Parvati seemed to lose whatever empathy she had with her patient, and put on that cool, aloof, therapist look. "Hermione, in your dreams, do you ever get past that last point?" she asked.
Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. "Past what point?"
"Well," Parvati began, picking up her notepad and quill. "When you related the story to me, you ended it where Harry pushes you away, and is about to get hit by You-Know-Who's spell."
Hermione nodded, but then slowly began to shake her head. "No, I don't."
"Hmmm." Parvati mumbled something, as she, like the clichéd therapist, scribbled her notes.
"Everyday I sit around and wonder whether the threat of Voldemort is truly gone." Hermione said, her eyes going large and glassy. "I wonder whether Harry is really truly free of this burden. Sometimes, I wish that I could just sit with Harry in front of me all the time, so that I could be sure that he isn't in some mortal danger. It doesn't help that Harry has chosen the line of work that he has, and although I don't necessarily work in the same division as he does, I followed him into it in order to…watch over him."
Parvati nodded, still scribbling some notes on her paper.
"I never go out in the rain; never. When it rains, I ask Harry to stay with me. I'm sure that this must irritate the hell out of him, but he never complains…"
"Well, it seems like you have him quite covered," Parvati said, not unkindly.
Hermione looked up, obviously confused.
"Well, you live with Harry, in order to protect him. You work with Harry, also in order to protect him. You keep him with you when it rains, because it reminds you of the rain during The Last Battle…"
"Yes, I know," Hermione interrupted.
"Tell me, Hermione, do you sleep with him?"
At that question Hermione jumped out of her chair as if it had electrocuted her. "WHAT? Sleep with him? Are you mad? No, I don't sleep with him, Harry is only my friend, we've never, I mean, we haven't…"
"Very well," Parvati said, scribbling some more notes. "Perhaps its about high time you did."
"WHAT?" Hermione exclaimed again. "Why, of all the insane things I've heard in my life…"
"Oh Hermione, don't get your feathers ruffled," Parvati said, trying to keep a stern demeanor. "Nobody is telling you to have sex with Harry. I just simply suggested that perhaps you two should sleep together."
Hermione nodded, though she had a confused expression on her face.
"It makes perfect sense, Hermione. You see, you seem to be quite ok when Harry is around. You aren't plagued with these…dreams or visions when you're with him, are you?"
Hermione shook her head. No, when Harry was around, she was indeed quite all right.
"So, if you want to get a decent night's sleep, I highly recommend that you try sleeping with Harry in the same room, perhaps even sleeping in the same bed, side by side. Maybe then you'd get this feeling that you're doing everything in your power to protect him, your dreams would stop."
Hermione's eyes widened, sudden understanding dawning.
"I'm not recommending this as a permanent thing," Parvati said, with an air that said that although she wasn't medically recommending it as permanent, in her opinion it should be permanent, though for completely different reasons. "I think that in the time being, you'd both benefit from getting a good's nights sleep. In the interim, you should keep coming back to me, so that we can perhaps really get this psychosis fixed."
Hermione nodded, a sudden dread of going home and actually suggesting this experiment to Harry - or worse - Ron, overpowering her.
"Here," Parvati said, handing her a sheet of paper. "This is a prescription signed by me, for the setup, you know, in case someone in your house needs proof." She gave Hermione a knowing look, and Hermione took the paper.
*~*~*~*~*
Later that day, Hermione decided to cook a nice dinner to keep her mind off her visions, and the impending doom that lay before her, when she had to tell Harry, and Ron, about Parvati's "prescription."
She made a Cajun Gumbo, a recipe she received off her aunt Mary who married an American journalist, and currently resides in Louisiana.
When the boys got home, they downed it hungrily, but Hermione barely touched it. As Hermione served them each a second helping, she decided to break the news.
"So, I went to see a therapist today," Hermione said, dreading what she had to say next.
"Thas gooood," Ron said, his mouth full of food. "Wha 'appened?"
"She told me that I should sleep with Harry."
At this, Ron spit out his food and looked at Hermione as if she had just sprouted seven heads.
Harry jumped out of his seat. "WHAT?"
"Harry, Ron…wait, calm down! She didn't mean it like that." She forced Harry to sit back down, and began pacing around the table.
"She meant that I should sleep with Harry, you know, sleep sleep," she babbled, "because apparently I don't get these insane visions and dreams when he's around, so if either of us wants to get a good night's sleep, we should sleep together."
Harry ran his hands through his hair; Ron sniggered. "Sleep is what you'd be getting, eh?"
Both Harry and Hermione glared at him. "Ron, how dare you…" Hermione began, but was quickly cut off by Harry.
"Its ok Hermione , I'll - ahem- sleep with you."
There was a long moment of silence in which the three of them looked at each other. Ron looked like he wanted to attack someone with his silverware; Harry was trying really hard not to look at Ron's silverware, and Hermione was silently thinking of spells to heal wounds caused by silverware.
At last, this tense moment was ended when Crookshanks jumped into Harry's lap and began rubbing his head against Harry's abdomen. Hermione smiled, and called him over to her. "That's his way of thanking you," Hermione told Harry, as she rubbed Crookshanks' belly. "He seems quite pleased I'll actually sleep tonight."
Ron snickered. Hermione ignored it, and Harry followed suit, deciding that ignoring was indeed the best policy.
"Who was the therapist you went to, anyways?" Ron asked, a look of resignation on his face.
"Parvati Patil," Hermione said amicably.
Ron rolled his eyes. "Figures."