Harry's New Nightmare

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.

The next morning Harry was hunched over 'Petunia's' flowerbed under the front windows. He was once again weeding it. He began to think the Dursleys might be importing weeds, since he seemed to constantly be doing this. The simple repetitive nature of the job didn't help him; it allowed his thoughts to wander while his hands worked on autopilot. He tried to focus on the job at hand while Petunia criticized his 'slow and sloppy' work through the window from the relative comfort of inside the house. Harry only looked up when he noticed she had stopped talking. Her eyes were big and focused on something behind him. Harry turned around just in time to duck a feather-covered missile. The owl struck the side of house with a resounding 'thud' and promptly fell into the flowerbed. Petunia shrieked. Harry recognized the owl almost immediately as Errol. He quietly sighed.

"Get that disgusting... diseased BIRD out of my garden!" Petunia exclaimed.

"He's just old and overworked Aunt Petunia," Harry said in quiet exasperation. He wondered why Ron hadn't sent Pig instead. He picked up the old owl and found a scroll attached to his leg addressed to him, but not in Ron's messy handwriting, but in a neat curly script, obviously written by a girl. Relieving Errol of the scroll, he placed him upright on the lawn and watched as Errol staggered a few steps before taking off again.

Harry cautiously looked around. Noticing that Aunt Petunia had retreated further inside and was no longer at the window, he broke the seal and unrolled the scroll.

Dear Harry,

After he returned from school, Ronald finally told me about everything that happened during the last year and at the Ministry last month. I must tell you that I am seriously disappointed that you brought Ron and Ginny into yet another dangerous situation, one where they both got badly injured. As such, you are no longer welcome at the Burrow this summer.

I fear that you have become a bad influence on both of them, bringing them along with you on all of your 'adventures'. I feel that it is best for them to spend some time away from you and instead with their family that loves them. I will not lose any more of my children because of you.

I think that you need to realize that if you continue to insist on taking matters into your own hand, those choices will have consequences that you will regret and have to live the rest of your life with.

Molly Weasley

Harry was shocked. Mrs. Weasley didn't want him around. 'She's right though,' he thought. 'I'll have to live the rest of my short life knowing that Sirius is dead because of me.' He just sat there letting that thought sink in.

"Which one of your freak friends was that from?" Petunia asked with disgust, startling Harry with her sudden reappearance.

"My friend Ron's mum. She doesn't want me to visit them this summer. She says I'm a bad influence on her children," he let slip before he could think about it.

"I'm glad someone in your world has some sense."

Harry sat there dumbfounded, his world was collapsing around him. Mrs. Weasley and Aunt Petunia agreed about something.

<>

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading when she heard a tapping at her bedroom window. She leapt from her bed when she recognized the snowy owl.

"Hedwig! You've got a letter from Harry?" she exclaimed as she opened her window to let the bird in.

Hedwig held out her leg in response. Hermione quickly untied the parchment. Her smile quickly turned to a look of pain and hurt as she read the letter in her hand. She had to read it twice to be sure it said what she thought.

Hermione,

I'm sorry.

The-Boy-Who-Still-Lives

Hermione burst from her room.

"Mum! It's Harry, something's wrong!" Hermione called as she ran through the house trying to find her mother.

"I'm in here dear," came her mother's voice from the sitting area.

"Something's wrong with Harry. Look at this." Hermione shoved it at her mother, who glanced at the short letter as soon as she was in front of her.

"Hermione," Emma said trying to calm her daughter. "Boys don't like to write long letters. It's against their nature."

"I know that mum! But this is way too short, even for Harry! And that's without reading between the lines, or line as it were." Hermione sighed and sat down on the sofa next to her mother. She forced herself to calm before going on.

"The way he signed it alone screams something is terribly wrong. Harry has always hated the title The-Boy-Who-Lived that was bestowed upon him by the press. Yet he signs this as The-Boy-Who-Still-Lives. Do you know what that means? It means he doesn't feel like he deserves to live. He's feeling guilty about Sirius - his godfather - dying for sure, but that's probably brought up memories of a fellow classmate that died in front of him a year ago, his parents, and everyone else who's been hurt by Voldermort and his Death Eater's including me.

"And what is he sorry about? About him not writing me before? About not believing me when I told him that it was a trap? About me getting hurt? There are so many things he blames himself for, most of it out his control. He takes the blame for all of that pain and suffering onto himself so easy. The Dursley's probably taught him that everything is his fault. It doesn't help matters when the wizarding world claims the same thing half the time.

"Harry looked like a broken man carrying the weight of the world when we left Hogwarts. I can only imagine what he is like after he's been back at the Dursley's for a couple of weeks. I fear that he might not care if he lives or dies, maybe to the point of being suicidal."

Hermione started to cry again. "I can't lose him now, not when I love him so much. It was hard enough watching him try to date another girl this last year. I don't know what I would do if he killed himself." Hermione collapsed into her mother's arms, sobbing wholeheartedly.

"Are you sure about this dear? You could be reading too much into it, letting your emotions and imagination get the better of you."

"Read it again Mum." Hermione handed her the letter.

"Maybe you're right dear."

"I ought to be. I've been watching and studying him for years. I know him better than I know myself."

<>

Harry stood at the kitchen sink washing the remains of another luxury dinner that the Dursley's delighted in denying him any of, off the excessive amount of dishes they owned. His hands were once again on autopilot as his thoughts wondered. Suddenly a spike of pain shot up his arm. Harry looked down into the sink and saw his blood flowing down the drain with the water. He stared at the fresh wound bleed freely in the palm of his left hand and then the steak knife that Vernon had used laid beneath it, stained with his blood.

'Blood,' he thought as he watched the crimson fluid leave his body. 'It always seems to come back to blood. Pureblood, mudblood, halfblood, MY blood that brought back Voldermort.'

Harry picked up the steak knife, twirling it in his hand. The hours of chopping roots, herb and assorted ingredients in Potions gave him a practiced fluidity to his movement. He brought the edge of the blade to his wrist wondering if it would cut through his skin as smoothly as it had cut through his uncle's steak. Oh, what he wouldn't give to be free of this world and Voldermort.

He moved his hand to draw the serrated blade across his wrist when a vision of Hermione came to mind. Hermione in a world ruled by Voldermort. One where she would be the one tossed around in the air by groups of Death Eaters like he saw at the Quiditch Cup. The knife slipped from his hand as he steadied himself on the edge of the sink, his knees suddenly weak. The sight of his blood, imagining that it was hers, made him fight to keep the small ammount of contents of his stomach down.

<>

Emma watched as her daughter fidgeted at the table, barely touching her dinner. She had obviously been on edge all day since Harry's letter arrived that morning and didn't show any signs of it lessening.

"Hermione dear, he will be okay."

Hermione put her fork down and looked up from her plate at her mother, the worry and anxiety clear on her face.

"I want to believe that, I do. I just... I just don't know. Dumbledore still telling me he can't leave yet."

"He'll be fine. Nothing happened to him last summer, why would this one be any different?"

Hermiones eyes suddenly got wide, unshed tears making their surface shine.

"We have to get him out of there now!" she practically screamed in a panic.

"But you told us that Dumbledore said..." Dan Granger started to say.

"Right now, I don't care what Dumbledore said."

Emma was completely caught off guard. Hermione always spoke kindly, almost reverently, about her headmaster. Something must have really shaken her up to effect her this badly. She shared a look with her husband.

"What do you expect us to do Hermione? Just drop everything and drive over there and pick him up tonight? No phone call or advanced notice?"

The look on Hermione's face told Emma that was exactly what she had expected. Hermione dropped her head.

"I know it's not logical, but I also know that Harry is in trouble and he needs me," she said in a small but determined voice. Hermione raised her head back up and looked at her mother straight in the eye, not wiping away the tears that were now falling down her facing. "Harry needs me... and I need Harry."

"Okay, we'll pick him up."

Emma suddenly found herself in one of her daughter's rare bone crushing hugs.

"But it will have to be tomorrow." Hermione started to protest but was cut short by her mother again. "FIRST thing tomorrow okay? It's a long trip and I don't want to do it in the dark. He'll be fine until morning, okay?"

"Right, he'll be fine until morning," Hermione said quietly, obviously trying to convince herself.

<>

Well after sundown Harry dragged himself into the smallest bedroom and sat down on the small bed with the thin, threadbare sheets. The house was quiet and the darkness was beginning to consume him again. He could feel the nightmare stir at the edge of his conscience.

"Dobby?" he hesitantly called into his room.

A few seconds later a small flash and a 'pop' announced the arrival of a worried looking house elf.

"What is wrong Harry Potter Sir? What can Dobby be doing for you?"

"Thank you for coming Dobby. I didn't know if you would be able to."

"No matter where you is, Dobby will always come when Harry Potter is needing him," Dobby said with a slight hint of pride in his voice.

"Can you do me a big favor Dobby? Could you put up silencing charms around my room so my relatives can't hear me?" Harry paused for a second. "And not have the Ministry send me another owl?"

Dobby got a sheepish look on his face. "I can be doing that Sir. Last time... last time Dobby had to be making the Ministry believe it was you... Sir."

Harry could see that Dobby was fighting between the urge to punish himself, and the need not to do it in front of him.

"That's okay Dobby, as long as you keep that promise to not to save my life again without me asking for it, okay?" Dobby nodded, the tension eased from his small frame. "Can you do the silencing charm, and not have to come back every night to redo it?"

"Oh yes Sir. That be the kind of magic house elves are best at." Dobby turned around and wiggled his finger in an intricate pattern towards each wall, then the ceiling and floor in turn. "It is done Sir. Can Dobby do anything else for Harry Potter Sir?"

"No thank you Dobby. You better get back to Hogwarts before they know your gone. I'll see you in September."

"Any time Harry need Dobby, just call and I will come. Goodnight Sir," Dobby said with a small bow before he disappeared with a 'pop'.

Harry slowly got ready for bed, dreading the nightmare he was sure to have, watching the only person to never abandon him die in front of his eyes again. As he put his glasses on the nightstand and pulled the sheets up around him, his only consolation was that his Aunt and Uncle wouldn't hear him scream.

Hermione stared blankly out of the car window at the passing scenery. Between the worry and anxiety, her nerves were a wreck. Visions had plagued her mind the previous night, causing her to lose more than a little sleep. They were dark visions of Dementors, Death Eaters, and Voldermort tormenting Harry until he finally begged for death all while the Dursley's laughed in the background. They still hadn't completely left her mind after the sun rose.

The change in momentum of the car broke Hermione out of her thoughts. Her vision focused back in reality, she noticed the houses they were passing looked exactly the same, as if they were all made in some Norman Rockwell mold of suburbia. As they turned onto Privet Drive Hermione could feel her heart start to race as a fresh wave of anxiety washed over her. She instinctively started to scan the area on the lookout for any kind of danger, any sign of a trap and even men dressed in black robes with skull masks.

When the car finally stopped her eyes fell on the raven haired young man on his knees pruning a picture perfect rose bush. When he looked up at the car, she saw those familiar green eyes behind the round spectacles and lightning shaped scar behind his untidy fringe. Such a powerful wave of relief swept through Hermione that for a moment she felt light-headed.

"He's alive," she whispered to herself.

She barreled out of the car before should even finish the words. The anxiety suddenly forgotten, and a smile plastered on her face, she ran at Harry wanting to hug him fiercely, to just hold him. In her haste to get to him she decided to jump the small garden wall instead of going around to the gate. The sudden wide look in Harry's eyes told her that she didn't quite make the jump.

<>

In a swift and fluid motion Harry had dropped the pruning shears, leapt to his feet and was already running toward her when her foot caught the edge of the wall. With a final and desperate leap he was able to get under her as she started to fall. He wrapped his arms around her and they fell together, Harry on his back and Hermione on top of him.

Harry's vision went white for a split-second as the wind was knocked from his body. When his vision returned, it was filled with concerned brown eyes staring into his.

"I'm fine Hermione," he said answering her unasked question. "I'm more worried about you. How's your ankle?"

She gently pushed herself up, forcing him to let go of her. She tentatively put her weight on the foot as she stood.

"It's fine Harry. Just a little sore," she replied.

Hermione smiled and reached out a hand. He grabbed it and she pulled him upright next to her, their faces mere inches apart.

"What are you doing here Hermione?" he whispered as he starred into her deep chocolate eyes.

"I've come to take you Harry -- away from here. Whether Dumbledore likes it or not," she replied just as quietly with a hard edge of defiance.

A flash of fire erupted in the air above them causing them to jump. Fawkes appeared as the flames disappeared. The phoenix glided down and dropped a scroll into Harry's hand, before looking at him for a moment. With a trill and a rush of flames, Fawkes disappeared, leaving behind a red feather floating toward the ground. Hermione bent over and picked the feather off the grass.

"Oh, that's odd. It tingles," she said before handing him the feather.

Harry shared a quick look with Hermione then looked down at he scroll in his hand. It was obviously from Dumbledore. He took a deep breath to calm himself before he broke the wax seal.

Harry,

Your time is sufficient, protections renewed. You may leave at any time with Ms. Granger, who undoubtedly is standing next to you while you read this.

Yours most humbly,
Albus Dumbledore

"It seems I've been given a pardon from Durzkaban for the summer," he said in quiet exasperation and handed her the scroll to read.

<>

"Come on. I'll pack and we can get out of here. I don't want to stay a second longer than I absolutely need to and that stopped being the case 30 seconds ago."

She quickly read the note. Something about it didn't sit right with her. How did Dumbledore know she was here when she only just arrived? Why was it okay he leave now and not 48 hours ago when she last asked?

Hermione followed a subdued Harry inside and up the stairs. She watched him turn into the first room on the right, leaving the door open. When she reached the threshold her hands followed her eyes as she took in the 6 deadbolts of varying kind on the entrance to his room. Hermione's heart caught in her throat. ‘Harry didn't exaggerate his treatment at the hands of the Dursleys after all,' she thought sadly. She chided herself for not believing him whole heartily when he told her about his ‘home' life. She had to fight back tears when caught sight of the cat flap in the door by her feet.

She dared a glance into Harry's room. Barren would be generous way to describe the small room. The only sign that a teenage boy lived there was Harry's open school trunk and couple presumably dirty t-shirts on the floor. Harry had quickly scooped the clothes up and tossed them into his trunk before getting on his hands and knees next to his bed. Hermione watched with curiosity as he pulled up a floorboard and retrieved a small bag from the hidden spot. He threw the stash into his trunk and with a click that echoed in the small room, closed his trunk.

"That's it. I'm packed," Harry said simply.

That simple statement quietly broke her heart. All of his worldly possessions easily fit in his school trunk, without the help of shrinking charms or expanding the interior of the trunk.

Harry picked up Hedwig's cage and his trunk and walked out of the room. Her eyes once more took in the room. It was as if Harry hadn't been there at all. Then her eyes fell on a piece of parchment on the small desk.

"Harry, you forgot a letter on your desk," she called to him out in the hall, almost to the stairs.

"No I didn't. It's from Mrs. Weasley and Aunt Petunia will probably want it framed."

Hermione quickly bound across the room to the desk and picked up the letter. Something flared inside of her as she read the words. She had to resist the urge to destroy the letter, with or without magic.

An shrill "NO!" from downstairs shook her from her thoughts. She followed the voices and found Harry with his trunk next to him, someone who she assumed to be Dudley and Aunt Petunia in the kitchen. She stopped at the doorway watching the byplay inside.

"...told you that I'm leaving and I'm not sure that I'll be back next summer, if ever."

"You have work to do around here. Who will take care of my roses? You certainly don't think that I will do something so dirty."

"Why not?" Hermione hissed causing the group to look at her. "They are YOUR roses after all. If you can't handle getting your hands a little dirty, then you don't deserve something so beautiful."

Turning to Harry she continued, "Come on Harry let's get you out of here."

"You will not talk about my mother like that!" Dudley shouted.

Dudley grabbed her wrist. Trying to pull her back, he swung her around. Hermione rewarded him with a fist to his face using the momentum of her twisting to drive it home. As Dudley brought up his hands over his face, Hermione drew back her leg and kicked him in the groin hard. As he doubled over from the pain she brought her knee up into his face and knocked him back onto his huge backside.

Petunia screamed and ran to Dudley's side, her hand covering her mouth trying to stop the sobs.

"Dudders! Are you okay Dudders?!"

After she got a nod in the affirmative, she turned on Hermione.

"Get OUT of my home you BITCH!"

"I plan to! And that's WITCH to you!" Hermione spat back just as venomously, causing Petunia to jump.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him out the front door.

Harry watched as Hermione single-handedly put his trunk in the boot of the waiting car like it was light as a feather.

"He's boxing champion at his school you know," he said as he sat down in the back seat.

"Good, it'll make the story that he was beaten by a girl even more humiliating," said a still fuming Hermione as she climbed in after him and slammed the door.