He was in the old graveyard again.
Pain was throbbing through his scar, and even in the midst of his own screaming, he heard the two voices.
"Kill the spare." Kill the spare, kill the spare, kill the spare… The words seemed to echo in that cold, cruel voice.
And then those two words that would change everything. "Avada Kedavra!"
There was a thud on the ground beside him, as Cedric's body fell. Cedric was dead.
"Noooo!! Cedric! Voldemort! Nooo!"
Harry awoke with a start, panting and sweating.
It had only been a dream. Just a dream. He sighed, long and shakily, as he put his glasses on with trembling hands.
He dreamed of Cedric and the Third Task often, but somehow this dream had been particularly vivid. He could still hear Voldemort's voice saying, "Kill the spare" in his head. The spare… He shuddered. As if Cedric's life mattered nothing.
He looked around the Gryffindor boys room as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Luckily he hadn't woken anyone up with his nightmares as he sometimes did. But he knew he wasn't going to be sleeping again anytime soon. With a sigh, he got up, needing to walk a little, just be alone for a while.
He stared morosely into the dancing flames in the Gryffindor common room, thankful that the house elves kept the fire burning.
Cedric was dead, and it was his fault. He remembered persuading Cedric to take the Cup with him, remembered Cedric's protests. If he had only listened, hadn't insisted that Cedric take the Cup with him, Cedric would still be here…
Hermione came down the stairs from the girl's room, hoping not to wake anyone else up. She had just remembered that she had left her Arithmancy textbook and notes down in the Common room and decided to come down and get it before she forgot in the usual morning rush.
She was expecting the Common room to be empty at that hour of the night and started when she saw the dark-haired figure sitting in front of the fire.
"Harry," she asked hesitantly, unsure whether he wanted to be disturbed. There was something about the way he was sitting that spoke of dejection and brooding. Her heart clenched as he started a little and turned to look at her. His green eyes, usually so bright, had darkened, until they looked to be nearly forest green. His expression looked bleak.
"Hermione," was all he said.
She crossed the room, noticing her book on the sofa before sitting beside Harry, putting a hand on his arm. "What is it, Harry? Why are you still up?"
He sighed, turning his face away to stare once again at the flames.
A silence fell, during which she studied him, her best friend, so familiar to her, so dear to her.
He sighed before finally saying flatly, still staring at the flames, "I had a nightmare. About what happened after the Third Task."
She caught her breath in sudden understanding. She knew Harry had suffered from nightmares about that often. She guessed he hadn't wanted to wake anyone else up and had decided to come down here.
"Harry," she said softly, "talk to me. Tell me what happened."
He heaved another sigh before turning back to look at her, and she saw with surprise and a flood of compassion that there were tears in his eyes.
"Oh Harry…" She sighed, before putting both arms around him and giving him a hug.
He stiffened slightly before giving in and hugging her back.
She closed her eyes and just held him, willing him to feel how much she cared for him, that he could tell her anything.
Finally when she was beginning to think he never would, he started to talk, his voice a little rough and hesitant.
"The Tournament Cup was a Portkey. When Cedric and I touched it at the same time, we were both taken to where Tom Riddle's father was buried."
She gasped, pulling back to stare at him in dismay. He understood the question in her eyes and nodded. "Yes, Voldemort was waiting for us. Me. He- he told Wormtail to kill Cedric. Kill the spare, that's all he said." He grasped her by the arms tightly, his eyes almost fierce. "He called Cedric the spare! As if Cedric was worthless, just… just…" His voice cracked and he blinked away tears.
Her heart nearly broke at the sight of Harry struggling not to cry, suddenly understanding what it was that was keeping Harry up. Guilt. It was the one constant in Harry's life. He felt guilty over everything and goodness only knew how guilty he would feel over Cedric, who had actually been murdered in front of his eyes, just for taking the Cup with him.
She hugged him again before drawing back, forcing him to meet her eyes. She spoke clearly, slowly, emphasizing each word. "Harry, it wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault. You couldn't have known, didn't know, that the Cup was a Portkey. If you must blame someone, blame Voldemort. Blame Wormtail. They did it. It wasn't your fault."
He started to protest but she cut him off. "No, Harry, listen to me. It wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could do. I know you, Harry, and I know how you think but believe me when I say that you couldn't have done anything other than what you did." Her voice softened. "Do you trust me, Harry?"
Slowly he nodded, and she felt some of the tension leave his body as he stared at her.
She smiled tenderly at him, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, when he suddenly moved his head, whether on purpose or not, she never knew and suddenly her lips were on his.
Her eyes widened in surprise, before closing. Somehow this felt right, having Harry's arms around her, his lips on hers.
Harry had always been her best friend but suddenly she was sure that he was more than just a friend.
The kiss ended all too soon and they drew back to stare at each other with widened eyes, each realizing the new turn their relationship was about to take and unable to stop it, unsure if they wanted to stop it.
The friendship may be ending but there was the hope, the possibility of something more precious, deeper and truer than even friendship. There was the possibility of love.
These thoughts raced through Hermione's mind, sending her emotions spinning but with an odd feeling of happiness underneath all the confusion. She could see that Harry was thinking much the same thing; it showed in the look in his eyes.
Slowly, Harry leaned forward and this time the kiss was more certain, more confident. Her lips parted beneath his and the kiss deepened until Hermione was sure her heart was going to beat its way out of her chest. She could feel Harry's hands on her back, her arms slid around his neck, her fingers getting tangled in the unruly black hair, as the kiss continued…
He pulled back reluctantly, keeping his arms around her. Slowly her eyes fluttered open to find him looking at her, something like amazement in his eyes.
"Hermione, I…" His voice trailed off as he just stared at her.
She met his eyes, a flush rising to her cheek, suddenly aware of how close she was to him, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek.
He tried again. "Hermione, I… you…"
And she realized that no matter what turn their relationship had just taken, he was still Harry.
"Sssh, Harry. Don't talk, it's alright. I know." And she kissed him again.
They stayed down in the common room, holding each other, not saying much, kissing softly occasionally, for quite a while, two friends whose relationship had suddenly become something more.
Harry felt at peace for the first time in so many months, the memory of Cedric's death no longer quite so painful. And suddenly he was certain that no matter what Voldemort was planning, he could get through it. He had Hermione by his side. She would help him, as she had always helped him.
He thought about his nightmares again. They weren't gone forever, would return someday. But he wasn't afraid to go to sleep anymore.
He tightened his arms around his Hermione, dropping a kiss on her hair, and thought of Cedric again. Rest in peace, Cedric. I'm sorry.
And for the first time, he apologized without feeling bitter at himself.
Rest in peace.