Disclaimer: These things seem to be all the rage with the legal types these days, so I guess I should join the trend. These characters do not belong to me. I never said they did. Nothing will change those two things between now and when the last word of this story is posted.
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"HERMIONE!" he screamed out into the darkened room. Suddenly awake, with his heartbeat pounding in his ears, Harry tried to forget the images of his dream. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the images out, but it only helped burn them deeper onto the underside of his eyelids.
"Well done, Ha - "
But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Hermione's chest. She gave a tiny "oh!" as though of surprise, her eyes widened in shock.
It seemed to take Hermione an age to fall, her eyes fixed on his the entire time. The scenery behind her changed as she fell away from Harry. Her body curved in a graceful arc as she sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch...
He instantly moved to reach out for her, finding her just beyond his grasp. And Harry saw the look of mingled fear in her eyes and surprise on her face as she fell through the ancient doorway and disappeared in a bright flash of green light behind the veil, which fluttered for a moment as though in a high wind and then fell darkly back into place.
"HERMIONE!"
Harry was broken out of his memory by a loud pounding on the door.
"Boy, quit screaming and waking decent people up in the middle of the night! If I have to wake up to your screaming just once more, you'll be going back in the cupboard and I don't care what the funny man with the bowler hat says, do you understand me?!" Â Harry's over-sized Uncle bellowed from just outside the door before stomping noisily back down the hall.
Harry sighed heavily. This summer at Privet Drive had been his worst yet. Mere weeks after he had witnessed Sirius fall through the veil and Dumbldedore's explanation about the prophecy, Harry had gotten the backlash from Moody's well-meaning threats toward the Dursley's. Harry spent his days in a stupor as he was forced to work from sunrise to sunset, having to beg to get any food or stop to deal with other bodily needs. This he had expected and could deal with. What he couldn't deal with was the still blackness of the night. It seemed to envelope him in pain and guilt. He had nightmares every night. They had started as soon as they had returned from the Ministry. He had of course relived that night in his dreams, watching Sirius fall again and again. But when he had returned to Privet Drive, they began to morph and change. Now he was cursed with watching Hermione fall through the veil every night. The image of which haunted him throughout the daytime hours.
Harry sat up and looked over at his desk, at the small stack of letters he had received over the summer. One lay open on top, one that weighed in on his mind almost as much as the nightmares. The last one Hermione had written him.
Harry,
I know I promised you that we would get you out of there real soon. I really have been trying. I've been writing Dumbledore telling him that my parents are more than willing to have you stay here for the rest of the summer and asking if we can get you out of there yet. His reply is always the same, 'not yet'. It's quite infuriating.
I realize you need someone in the wizarding world to protect you and look out for you, but why is it Dumbledore? Do you know why he insists you return to that dreadful house each summer? Or is it another thing he is keeping to himself?
Why won't you answer any of my letters Harry? Ron said he has written, but you haven't answered any of his letters either. I understand you feel guilty about Sirius your godfather, but please don't cut us out of your life. Talk to us. Tell us how you feel. Right now I don't care if you even yell at me, but please, please tell me what is going on in that head of yours.
I want to help, I want to be there for you, but I can't do that when you push me away.
Yours always,
Hermione
Harry sighed deeply as he sat down at the small desk and carefully penned a simple reply.