Amazing Grace

Batgirl

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Mystery
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 08/05/2003
Last Updated: 07/07/2003
Status: paused

After three long months of solitude...

Chapters

1. 1

2. Chapter 2

3. dreams

1. 1

Amazing Grace

By: Batgirl801

Amazing Grace, How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was Lost, But now am found

Was blind, but now I see…

She looked across the expansive lawn, searching for any sign of movement. She had been waiting for nearly three hours, without so much as leaves fluttering in the breeze. Everything was still as death. Death. That was a word she had used too much lately. One could only say it so many times before it lost all meaning. Everything died; plants, animals, dreams, people. Nothing was safe from the cold clasp of death. Even something that you would give anything in the world to save eventually died.

A sudden movement about 100 yards away caught her eye. She drew out her wand, prepared to act ruthlessly if necessary. The figure that had caused the diversion was slowly drawing closer to her. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end as she watched the figure, cloaked in black, tumble to the ground.

“Well, I can’t just leave him there. Wait. Him? How do I know it’s a him?” Her thoughts warred with each other, and finally her Good Samaritan side won out. She cautiously approached the fallen stranger. When she was about 15 feet from him, she stopped abruptly.

“Good God! I think he has a broken leg! How am I going to help him up? Wait, I am a witch, I can levitate him…” She slowly resumed her pace until she was standing over him. She eyed his tattered robes, noticing his shoes, which appeared to have once been very nice, and gasped at the mask on his face.

“Hmm…I wonder who it is. I guess I can just pull this mask off, He doesn’t seem to be in a position to mind all that much…” She decided to tug the mask off. Just as she touched the stiff black material, his hand shot up and grabbed her wrist. Electricity pulsed through her arm as he touched her.

“Please. Just leave it on.” He struggled to keep his voice even. He was obviously in an extraordinary amount of pain. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. She could have sworn that she recognized that voice, even broken as it was. With a swish of her wand, he was floating three feet off the ground, as if on an invisible stretcher.

“I’ll leave it on, but you have to come with me. I know a few healing spells, and you really need to get fixed up before you go any further tonight.” He nodded, and she floated him into her cabin.

The cabin was small, as she was the only person inhabiting it currently. It was modestly furnished, with second-hand furniture. There were two main rooms, a bed/leisure area and a kitchen. There was a loo located around the back. Somehow she had managed running water, and the cabin was lit mostly by torchlight. There were candles placed sporadically around the main living room, and a blazing fireplace with a beautiful oak mantle. She had been living there for nearly three months, cut off from all contact with the rest of the world. It wasn’t as though she had been banished, per se, she just wanted to be alone. If she couldn’t be with the one she wanted, then she didn’t want to be with anyone. But a little voice in her head told her to let this man in, and to take care of him.

She lowered the mysterious man onto the kitchen table and cut his pant leg so she could survey the damage. It did not look good at all.

“How long has it been broken?” she questioned him.

“Oh, about three days now…” He gasped in pain as she gently touched her wand to the shin area.

“Three days!? You must have lost a lot of blood, you’ll need to stay here and rest for a few days to get your strength back,” Her eyes filled with tears as she saw the anguish on the lower half of his face.

“Meh.” he mumbled incoherently and passed out.

She quickly performed the healing spells and levitated him to her bed. She magicked his pants off, and replaced them with some flannel pajama bottoms. After covering him with her quilt, she blew out the candles and went over to the only mirror in the house. After staring at her reflection for what seemed like an hour, she began to cry.

“What has happened to me? I have never seen myself look so old and tired. The bags under my eyes could store a week’s worth of clothing…my hair looks horrendous. The frizz is worse than ever, and it needs cutting. I guess the coloring is still pretty normal, no premature gray hairs, or anything horrendous like that...” She had never really thought much about how she looked before, but with no one to talk to for three months; she had often found herself gazing into the mirror, hoping that the reflection looking back at her would magically change into that of the man she loved. Her heart ached for him, her nostrils missed his scent, her body missed his warmth. What had gone wrong? Why was he gone and presumed dead? She had asked herself these questions countless times, and the only answers that she could come up with were nonsense. Of course he wasn’t still alive, that was impossible. Nobody could have survived an attack like that. But, somebody once had survived a similar attack. Her heart ached for him now. Could he have done it twice? This line of questioning always made her sad. If he was alive, why wasn’t he here with her? She was too young to be wasting away like this. After all, she had just graduated from Hogwarts in June. She was 18 years old, and had already suffered more than a person three times her age should have. She knew what it was like to love and to lose, and she hated it.

Breaking out of her reverie, she prepared for bed. Walking quietly into the bed area, she opened her armoire and took out her nightgown. After checking to be sure the mysterious stranger was still asleep, she turned to face the opposite wall and changed her clothes. With the nightgown in place, she crept up to the bedside and laid her palm across the man’s forehead, trying to feel for a fever through the stiff black fabric. She desperately wanted to remove the mask, but she knew he would wake up and be angry with her. Sighing, she headed for the couch.

After staring blankly at the ceiling for an hour and a half, a strange sound drew her attention. It was coming from somewhere near the bed. It sounded like a puppy crying for its mother. She got up and followed the sound, hoping that a stray dog had not entered her house. She stopped in front of the sleeping man. It was obvious that the sounds were coming from him. He was curled up in the fetal position, his hands wrapped around his shoulders, a look of anguish on the part of his face that was showing. It looked as though there was a deep internal struggle within the man’s dreams. Tears were streaming down his face; the mask was soaking wet.

She sat on the bed next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. Her heart ached seeing him so terrified. She was reminded of old memories, old nightmares; older, simpler times. She had comforted her love many times during nightmares. The man seemed to sense her presence, and he calmed a little.

She gazed at his face, trying to discern what lay beneath the cloth. She could make out the outline of his nose, and his mouth reminded her of someone she knew, someone she thought she had lost. There was a cut along the bottom of his cheek, one that would surely form a scar after it had healed. He didn’t seem to be that much older than her, but it was hard to tell without looking into his eyes, or studying his hair. He didn’t have any facial hair, so she guessed that he was actually her age.

He gasped out loud, and his eyes flew open. “Where am I?”

“Don’t worry, you are safe here, no one knows of this place,” she tried to soothe him. Her hand was slowly stroking his shoulder, as though he were, in fact, a whimpering stray puppy.

He turned to face her, and studied her for a long time. She could feel his eyes traveling over her face and down her neck, taking in her every curve and feature. Heat rose to her face, making a crimson splash. A knot was forming in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t help but think that his gaze felt familiar to her.

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked, tentatively.

“I…Uh…guess so…” he stammered. A blush was creeping onto his face as well.

“I heard you making noises, so I came to check on you. What were you dreaming about? You looked so terrified…”

“Oh, I…well…it was nothing.” He looked away from her, his shoulders tensing. She could tell that he was hiding something. By the looks of his behavior, it was something important. He glanced back at her, and she realized that she was still stroking his shoulder.

“Oh, sorry about that.” She hastily removed her hand and looked down at her feet, wanting to look anywhere but his face.

“I didn’t mind…it felt nice. It’s been awhile since anyone tried to comfort me,” He looked longingly at her hand, wishing it were on his shoulder once more. He enjoyed her touch; it actually did calm him.

“Tell me what is bothering you. I know it’s something. Maybe I can help,”

“I can’t tell you. If I told you it would change everything…”

She looked at his face, desperately wishing she could see all of it. A familiar scent caught at her, and she gasped.

“Oh my God….I can’t believe it…” She knew it all too well... It had been three long months since she had smelled it, but she remembered it like it was yesterday. That had been the longest, most painful day of her short life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The skies were black, and it was only three in the afternoon. All around Hogwarts, hundreds of Death Eaters were standing guard. Escape seemed impossible. She was standing close to him, clutching his hand in sheer terror. In front of them stood the ‘man’ who had tormented him, and everyone he loved, for the past 17 years. Sure, there had been an eleven year gap, but he had come back with a vengeance when they were in their first year at Hogwarts. Lord Voldemort was looking upon the two with contempt. Their fallen comrades were all around them, their best friend Ron included. She had a permanent set of tears in her eyes, and a permanent trail of wetness running down her cheeks. She felt empty inside knowing that Ron was gone, and intense anger at the man in front of her for his part in it. All of their friends, strewn about the lawn, were blocking their only path of escape; not that escape was a plausible choice at this point.

“Why don’t you just take me, and leave her out of this! You know it’s me you’re after, just let her go!” the terrified teenager yelled at the Dark Lord.

“Now, do I really seem like the type of person to simply allow someone to go? I thought you had learned that lesson back in your fourth year, my dear boy. Do I need to give you another reminder?” With that, he pointed his wand at the girl and shouted the worst two words in the wizarding dictionary.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!!”

“EXPELLIARMUS!!”

The boy had jumped in front of her, shouting his spell at the same time. The result was hard to determine. She felt no pain, but the world went dark. She heard a hair-raising scream, but soon realized it was coming from her own parched throat.

“NOOOOOOO!!” She slumped to the ground, and felt the body of her boyfriend below her. Her already dark world went silent, and she lay unconscious. What she didn’t know was that by jumping in front of her to shield her from harm, he had placed a sort of magical shield on her, similar to the one his own mother had placed on him sixteen years before.

Voldemort’s death curse had hit the boy, causing him to crumple to the ground. It seemed as if it had gone right through him, as a giant willow tree behind them was struck as well. The mighty tree creaked and groaned as its trunk was split in two. It fell with a huge crash right where the three had been standing.

The next thing she remembered was lying in a bed in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. Dumbledore was standing in front of her, his eyes strained with immense sadness.

“Professor Dumbledore…where is he?” She didn’t see him in any of the other beds; most of them were empty, as there weren’t many survivors of the attack.

“Lie back, dear girl, there is much to tell you…As you know, Mr. Ronald Weasley was lost in the attack. I am very sorry for your loss, but I’m afraid that the sadness does not end with him. We have also recovered the bodies of Lavender Brown, Pavarti Patil, Seamus Finnegan, Ginny Weasley, and a number of professors.” Tears were threatening to fall from Dumbledore’s eyes, but she could tell he was holding back for her sake.

“What about….” She couldn’t bring herself to say his name; there was a sinking feeling in her stomach. She remembered landing on his soft body when she fell.

“I am very sorry, but we cannot find his body. He seems to have disappeared.” With these words, she broke down, her worst fears realized. It was as though the hope of the world had died that day, along with all of her closest friends. She felt Dumbledore’s hand on her shoulder, attempting to bring her some comfort, but she was too far gone in the throes of grief.

“Voldemort survived the blow from the tree, but was severely injured. He fled, and the Death Eaters followed him. It seems that there were simultaneous attacks at both Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. The survivors have all congregated here, as the M.O.M. is no longer safe. Voldemort’s supporters have infiltrated up to the highest levels. I am telling you this because you were the person closest to Harry. I believe that if anything can bring him back, it will be you. I refuse to believe that he is dead.” This being said, Dumbledore slowly stood, his age apparent in his actions.

She lay there, his words sinking in. She couldn’t help thinking that he was really gone. People don’t just disappear. They don’t. If he was gone it was because Voldemort had taken him. She was sure of it. But if Voldemort had him, how could she get him back? Ron was no longer here to help her. Even Ginny was gone, what little help she would have been.

Her thoughts were consumed with him. The longer she thought, the more certain she was that she would never see him again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2. Chapter 2

Jill Normal Jill 2 24 2003-06-03T20:28:00Z 2003-06-03T20:28:00Z 4 2246 9448 162 17 11825 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Chapter Two: Amazing Grace

Disclaimer: I forgot this in Chapter one, forgive me. JKR is a creative genius who rocks the worlds of readers everywhere. The characters in this fanfic are hers, not mine. I am NOT a creative genius. The only things I own are the situations and the dialogue. Everything else belongs to her. Lucky woman.

A/N: Thanks to SamanthaMarie for Beta work, and Babygrrl for Beta work on Chapter one. You guys rock! Don’t forget to read and review. Well, obviously if you are here, you are reading…nevermind. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She looked at his covered face, and reached her hand up to remove the mask.

“Wait…” he sighed. “you may want to get a little more information before you do, you have to understand that a lot has changed about me in the last three months. I can imagine what a shock it will be to see my face, after so much has happened.”

She hesitated, and then placed her hand on her lap. She had waited three months; she was willing to wait a few more minutes. She was still seated next to him, and it suddenly felt as if she were too far away from him. Scooting closer, she put her hand on his shoulder again, resuming the comforting action of before.

“I want to know what happened. I want to know everything.”

He looked at her face, absorbing in the smallest details and changes that had happened in three months. It amazed him how much she had changed, and yet, how much was exactly the same. Her eyes were still the same color, but there was a sadness lingering in them now. And the area underneath them was discolored and sagging. Her hair looked the same, only a bit longer. His gaze shifted to her lips; he missed those most of all. The pouty fullness was still there, but he missed her smile. She used to smile all the time, now it looked as if she hadn’t smiled in a long time. He sighed and began his story.

“That day, when the skies were black and the castle was under attack, was the longest day of my life. I don’t know how much you remember of it, but I’ll try to fill in details. We were there with Ron and Dean and the rest of the guys, and then we saw Him. He looked at us, and had an evil sort of smirk on his face. Dumbledore and the rest of the professors were nowhere to be seen, and we couldn’t miss this fantastic opportunity to take him down once and for all. He was surrounded by Death Eaters just outside the Forbidden Forrest. He had already killed so many students, just for fun it seemed. The Death Eaters were slowly circling us, making escape impossible. He had his wand pointed at you, and Ron stepped in front of you. He began shouting at Him, calling him names that only Ron could come up with. The Death Eaters were laughing as if at some inside joke, but the joke was Ron. Voldemort grinned at him and shifted his wand so it was pointed right at Ron’s chest. I tried to shove him out of the way, but I just wasn’t fast enough.” He paused to gather his thoughts and to allow the lump in his throat to pass. She squeezed his shoulder for reassurance, and he continued. “He hit him with the Crutiatios curse first, and finished him of with the killing curse. I can still hear Ron’s screams…I think the rest of the guys were in shock, because nobody moved. You bent down to Ron and cradled his body, and the Death Eaters descended on the rest of us. They cursed the guys relentlessly with Crucio and Imperio, making them hurt each other, until Voldemort nodded his head and they all fell dead. You and I were the only ones in our little circle that were still alive. I pulled you up to stand next to me, and with tears running down both of our faces, he again pointed his wand at you. I tried to tell him to take me instead, to just let you go. But he didn’t think that was a good idea. The next thing I know, He’s shouting AVADA KEDAVRA, and I’m shouting, EXPELLIARMUS. I had jumped in front of you, to shield you. I felt the curse hit me, but it didn’t feel like last time, or at least what I remember from last time. The effect wasn’t the same as last time, either. Last time it made that strange golden cage thing, but this time, it was as if the wands didn’t recognize one another. The green blast was a lot lighter in color, and it wasn’t nearly as blinding. I saw him hit the ground, and I heard a creaking sound behind us as I hit the ground. His curse wasn’t enough to kill me, but it sure as hell hurt a lot. The creaking sound turned into a full blown crash as a giant willow tree came crashing down on us. I felt you fall on top of me, but I couldn’t see anything through the tree branches.

“Someone put their hand on me and I felt the familiar pull behind my navel that signified a portkey. It must have been one of the Death Eaters, because where I ended up could only be described as hell. It was a cold, dark room that smelled of blood. Water seemed to be oozing from the walls, which looked to be made of stone. I was surrounded by Death Eaters, there must have been about thirty of them. I didn’t see Voldemort anywhere, but he was the least of my worries at that point. You were gone, I wasn’t near Hogwarts, and I had no idea where I actually was. Not to mention that the ring of Death Eaters was getting steadily closer to me, and each had their wand drawn. Shackles appeared on my wrists and ankles, and they started shoving me around. The shackles were iron, and dug deeply into my skin. I don’t know where my socks and shoes had gone, but they were missing. Also missing was my wand. After about three minutes of shoving me back and forth in their circle, blood was pouring from my ankles. This seemed to satisfy them for a moment, because they gave me one final push. I landed face down on the ground, and I heard an iron door being closed and locked. I was in some sort of jail cell. After lying there for a few minutes, I think I passed out, because the next thing I remember, there was someone in the cell with me. It was a woman, and I thought it was you for a second. I called out your name and she turned and laughed at me. He stopped here and glanced at her. He wasn’t sure how she would react to all this information, especially since it had been so long since they had seen one another. He cupped her cheek in his palm and wiped a stray tear with his thumb.

As his thumb grazed her cheek, she closed her eyes and let out her breath. She had unknowingly held it while he told her his story. She leaned her face into his hand and closed her eyes, memories flooding back from many months before, when they had relaxed into each other many times. But she could not relax this time. He had been through so much, and he had only shared with her the first day. What other awful things had he gone through? Why did this have to happen to him? She wondered to herself why she hadn’t been there with him, to help him endure his pain. She felt as though she had let him down. If she couldn’t help him then, she be damned if she couldn’t help him now. He would get through this, she would make sure of it. With her hand on his shoulder, she urged him to continue.

“The woman turned to face me, and it was someone I had never seen before. She looked vaguely familiar, like the shadow of someone I had once known, but her eyes were blank and soulless. She had dark hair, almost black. I wondered what she was doing in my cell, and just as if she could read my mind, she spoke, ‘I was sent here to make sure you hadn’t died. He isn’t done with you, apparently.’ She never told me her name, and I didn’t ask. I looked down at my hands and feet, the blood had dried, but the scar tissue was forming to the iron shackles. It hurt to look at them, let alone move them. I heard a key in the door, and I looked to see who was coming in. The woman stood and walked out, leaving me alone once more.

“A few hours later, one of the Death Eaters came back and forced me to stand up. He shoved me out the door, and into another room that had a giant oak beam running the length of the room, about nine feet off the ground. There was a thick rope near the center, and a wheeled platform under it. They stood me on the platform, and bound my scarred wrists to the beam. After securing me with intricate knots, they wheeled the platform away, leaving me to hang by my wrists. The pain was so intense, but I refused to vocalize it. The wounds soon reopened, and blood was coursing down my arms. Voldemort came in with about three Death Eaters, and he watched as they took turns hitting me with a bat of some sort. I think I blacked out after about three minutes of this insane torture. When I awoke, I was back in my cell, and I could not see out of my left eye. I reached up, and it was swollen shut. My face was extremely sore, and sticky with drying blood. My wrists had rope burns and cuts, they were beyond hurting. I couldn’t lift my arms above my chest; I think my shoulders may have been dislocated. I don’t know how long I was unconscious. What I can only assume was a few days later, another Death Eater returned for me. He brought me again to the room I first landed in. There was an iron chair in the center, with more Death Eaters in a circle around it. He sat me down and strapped me in. Voldemort came in and magicked my shirt off. He pointed to two of the Death Eaters, and they came forward, each brandishing his wand. One of them whispered, ‘Crucio,’ and pain ripped through my entire body. It felt like my blood was on fire, and was burning me from the inside out. I refused to scream, but tears were soon pouring down my cheeks. The second pointed his wand and whispered, ‘lacarnum inflamare,’ and again, I felt fire, and this time the fire was real. What little hair I had on my body was soon scorched off, and my very flesh began to melt. Voldemort raised his hand and it stopped. Immense relief flooded through me, but it wasn’t enough to cool the intense heat. My eyes were squeezed shut, and I don’t know what happened next. I heard shuffling all around me and I assumed that the Death Eaters were planning some more horrific torture for my detriment. I guess they thought I had had enough for the time being, because I woke up back in my cell. This continued every few days. They’d do the rope treatment, wait a few days, and then do the iron chair treatment. Voldemort would pick two new death eaters to do the curses, and sometimes they would do different ones, I don’t really remember. I never really gained back full eyesight in my left eye; I think they damaged the nerves or something. My face feels like it has been scarred, so I just wanted to warn you before you see it. I’ll understand if it bothers you. I haven’t seen what it looks like; there haven’t been any mirrors where I’ve been.” With this he reached up to remove the mask. She put her hand on his and brought it down to her lap.

“Wait just a second. Can I do it? I don’t know what to expect, but no matter what it looks like, I want you to know that nothing, and I mean nothing, can make me stop loving you. Even with you gone for three months, and me thinking you were dead. I never stopped loving you. If anything, I loved you even more. So don’t be nervous, ok?” She gave him a small smile, kissed her fingertips, and placed them on his lips.

“…I never stopped loving you, either…just so you know,” he then mimicked her actions and kissed his fingertips and placed them on her lips. She kissed them, too. She reached up behind his head, and untied the mask. Sliding the stiff black material down over his face, she revealed him for the first time in three months. As the fabric slid down to the floor, she didn’t take her eyes off of him. When his face was uncovered, she gasped.

“Oh, Harry!”

3. dreams

Jill Normal Jill 2 88 2003-07-07T00:08:00Z 2003-07-07T00:08:00Z 3 2030 9056 181 40 11046 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

Amazing Grace: Chapter Three

Disclaimer: JKR is a creative genius who rocks the worlds of readers everywhere. The characters in this fanfic are hers, not mine. I am NOT a creative genius. The only things I own are the situations and the dialogue. Everything else belongs to her. Lucky woman. Let me put it this way: if you recognize something, it is most likely hers, if not, then it is most likely mine!

A/N: Sorry there has been such a delay between chapters, I was (am still) having a bit of writer’s block. And then there was OotP…man, what a great book! So that took some time, too. I’m sure you understand, and if not, well, YOU try and write a fic!

“Oh, Harry!”

Hermione gasped as she saw his face. After the build up he had given, she was expecting the very worst. He said he hadn’t seen a mirror, so he really had no idea what it looked like, and he assumed the worst as well. She reached up and ran her fingers along his lips, up his cheeks, and across his forehead, resting on the all-too-familiar scar that lay there. There were two new scars next to it, in the same lightning bolt shape. The worst part was his left eye, which was very badly bruised and swollen shut.

“Harry, it really isn’t that bad. I mean, there are a lot of scrapes, and bruises, but there really isn’t much that I can’t fix with a few simple healing spells,” she wanted to get a mirror to show him. She got up and went to the bathroom, bringing back a small hand mirror.

As he looked at his own reflection, tears of relief welled up in his eyes. He had been so afraid that he was horribly disfigured. After about three minutes of close inspection of his face, he set the mirror down and turned to face Hermione.

“Do you really think you can fix some of this?” He looked at her with skepticism, wondering if he would soon be normal.

“Well, yeah, I think I can. Scrapes and minor cuts are easy, and I know an anti-bruising spell that should do wonders for that eye. You may be left with the two extra scars on your forehead, those look familiar, curse scars, I think.” She ran her fingertips over the scars again, pausing to look into his eyes. She could see three month’s worth of pent up pain and anger, lingering just below the surface of his calm demeanor. She wanted to erase the pain, make him forget the horrors that he had endured, but nothing short of an “obliviate” spell would change that. She would just have to help him through the memories the best way she knew how. So she wrapped him up in her arms, holding him tightly. All her worrying and fear from the last three months seemed to drip away as she clung tightly to her Harry. Her Harry. Not dead Harry, not missing Harry, not even heroic Harry. Just her Harry. She felt safe in his arms, protected. It almost felt as if the three months apart had never even happened.

Harry also felt his pain and anger dripping away as he rested in Hermione’s embrace. He felt calm and comforted, safe. It was a comfort that had been missing for three solid, lonely, painful months. But she was back. His Hermione was back. His Hermione. Not helpless Hermione, not scared Hermione, not dead Hermione. Just his Hermione. As he held her in his arms, it was as if the three months didn’t matter. Things felt just as they did before all the horror and nastiness entered into the picture. It was almost as if they were back in the Gryffindor common room, sitting in front of the roaring fire. He was sure that any second, Ron would come rushing through the portrait hole, interrupting their magical moment.

That thought sobered Harry, and brought him out of his reverie. Ron was gone. He remembered Ron’s mangled body lying on the ground before he disappeared. Harry broke contact with Hermione and looked away, trying to ease the tears from his eyes.

“You’re thinking of Ron, aren’t you? I know you are, you don’t have to hide it, I’ve been thinking of him, too,” Hermione placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and turned his face back to meet hers. Her voice was soft and understanding. The tears were leaking down the sides of his cheeks, their paths obstructed by scars and scrapes. She was crying, too. It hurt her to see him in pain, physical or emotional.

Slowly, taking care not to cause him more pain, she kissed the tears away from his face. The tenderness of her actions just made him cry more. He was used to cruelty and roughness, and the contrast that she brought proved too much for him to handle. Pulling him back into an embrace, Hermione whispered words of reassurance in his ears. He felt his body relaxing into her warmth, comfort flowing through his veins as he rested. Soon, he was asleep; the mental anguish of reliving the last three months for her had been very tiring.

He dreamed about their last year at Hogwarts, before any of the horrible Voldemort business had truly plagued any of them. Sure, it was always in the back of everyone’s mind, but nothing concrete had happened for a few years. They were doing things that normal teenagers in their last year of school did. Hermione was freaking out about the N.E.W.T.S., Ron was freaking out about getting a Quidditch Team invite, and Harry was freaking out about well, nothing really.

His dream shifted to his and Hermione’s first romantic encounter. It was near Halloween, on a Friday night. They had been arguing about something, in the dream it was about Buckbeak getting married, but he supposed that the real argument was about something completely different. Hermione was red in the face, and he had been shouting. The common room had cleared, because the rest of the students had a feeling that this row would end in something other than anger, and they had no wish to see any of that. Besides, they thought that Harry and Hermione would want their privacy.

“Why can’t he just have a happy life like any normal hippogriff? Why does he have to be any different?!” Hermione screeched. Flinging her arms in the air.

“Why?! Because he is an escaped convict! Do you not recall busting him out of a certain situation that involved him assaulting Malfoy and being put to death?! That’s right, we busted him out! He’s on run from the law! If he were to be married, the law would know that he is still alive, and that we helped him escape!” Harry threw himself into an armchair out of frustration.

“OH! So that’s what this is about! You just don’t want to get in trouble for helping him escape! It’s all about YOU, isn’t it! It’s always all about you!”

“What?! All about me? How can you say that?! After all we have been through together! You’d be in just as much trouble as I would!” He jumped out of the chair right in front of her, and they were standing face to face, both breathing hard, and both very angry. As he looked into her eyes, the anger faded, and was replaced by something else, something, different. He saw it change in her eyes, too. The anger was gone, and replaced with…love? Passion? Both?

Without thinking, he bent down and kissed her. His hands wound around her back, pulling her closer to him. She reached up behind his head, running her hands through his shaggy black hair, deepening the kiss. They broke apart a moment later, staring at one another in pure shock. Had that just happened? Yes. And he wanted it to happen again.

Before he could move to kiss her again, he was thrown to the ground, with Hermione on top of him. She was fused to him by way of the mouth, and he was all the more glad because of it.

The sheer joy of that moment, when he knew that this was the girl he was going to spend forever with, was such a great feeling. They lay there, on the common room floor, for what seemed like an eternity, just happy that the feelings of mutual attraction were finally out in the open. Eventually, the kissing stopped, and they were talking.

“Hermione, I don’t know what to say, except, I love you. I have loved you since, oh, I don’t know, forever.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Harry. I love you, too. I feel like I have loved you since before I even met you.”

They talked till dawn, stopping only when the early risers came down the dorm stairs for breakfast. People glanced at them with smiling faces, knowing looks in their eyes. Apparently everyone else knew that they loved each other, too. Ron came bounding down the steps with a huge grin on his face, ecstatic that his two best friends had finally admitted their feelings to each other.

“Well, it’s about time, you two!”

It was the happiest memory that Harry possessed, and he often dreamt of it. Each time, the big fight would have a different subject, ranging from hippogriff weddings to Dudley going to fat camp.

Hermione was watching Harry sleep, and wondered what he was smiling at in his dreams. She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling to herself that he had something to smile about. She hugged him closer and settled herself to sleep.

She dreamed about their last year at Hogwarts, right after Christmas break. Ron and Ginny had gone to the Burrow, and she and Harry had stayed at the castle. They had a whole week to themselves, as Gryffindor Tower was mainly deserted. A few third years had remained, but that was it, and they mostly kept to themselves. Christmas morning, she woke up to Harry’s smiling face. He had sneaked into her dorm room, and slipped into bed with her. She wondered how long he had been there, watching her sleep. She didn’t mind, because she had done it to him the night before. He kissed her good morning, then threw open the curtains on the bed. The floor was covered in piles of presents, food, and snow.

“Oh, Harry! It’s beautiful! Is that real snow?” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, and dipped her toe into the snow. Instead of a biting cold, it was a pleasant cool feeling. The snow had been charmed to remain frozen at a comfortably temperature for bare feet. They spent the whole day in her room, opening presents, eating delicious Hogwarts food and having snowball fights. It was a perfect day. Harry’s present to her had been a beautiful silver ring, which had belonged to his mother. Sirius had given it to him, with the instructions from his mother that it was to be given to the girl that Harry wished to spend the rest of his life with. He had no problem giving her the ring, because he was convinced that they were meant for each other. She was absolutely honored to wear a piece of jewelry that had belonged to Lily, and signified her promise to Harry.

In her dream, Hermione smiled, subconsciously fingering the ring on her left hand. Her ministrations woke Harry, and he gazed at her hand, amazed that she still wore the ring. He had almost forgotten about it. He loved her even more just remembering the day that he had given her that ring. He kissed her forehead, and hugged her closer to him. Then he settled back to sleep.

They both went back to their respective dreams, each reveling in the happiest memories that they had, consumed with thoughts of each other.