Dream Chasing
Title: Dream Chasing (14)
Author name: Romulus Lupin
Author email: galigad@yahoo.com
Category: Romance
Sub Category:
Keywords: Harry Hermione Fantasy Island
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers:SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP
Summary: Chapter 14. At what point does dream become reality … or is reality merely a dream?
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed Chapter 13, and everyone who's taken the time to review ever since I started this story almost a year ago. The funny thing is … I never really expected this story to go this far (14 chapters with 1 or 2 more to go?) … or take this long to write.
I am dedicating this chapter to a few dear, dear and lovely friends: Nicole, of course, who has been with me since this story started and who continues to provide me with inspiration to complete it ;), Sarah (bingblot), always a supporter and a great writer in her own right, my favorite jailer, Lils and erin, even though we seldom see or encounter each other much, and golasgil sindar, for a most inspiring email.
Special mention must be made of andie (pottergirl 786) for a most inspiring email to me (sleep well, sweet - don't let the nargles bite!), as well as sienna, whose extremely insightful "Hexagram Theory" on the hidden pattern in the HP series was a key reason behind the delay in this chapter - I spent about two weeks studying and composing a response to her essay.
I hope you enjoy this.
Chapter 14. "There's Always Time for A Butterbeer …"
Warmth.
The feeling flooded through his brain and cascaded down his body, swirling in silent eddies to the very tips of his limbs - he blinked his eyes open, realizing that a ray of golden sunlight had somehow made its way through the curtained window, telling him it was time to face another day.
Or another night.
His now-rested brain quickly ran back over the memories, trying to fix a timeframe for this … it had been nearly sunrise when Mr. Roarke and Tattoo escorted two sets of parents away from their dream house on the beach; he remembered watching them walk into the rising sun until his eyes could no longer stand the strain and he turned into the warm embrace of his more-than-best friend. They'd held each other tightly, silently … allowing the warmth of their embrace to soften and try to dissolve the cold ache that had crept into their hearts the moment that they realized that there was a gap in their memories … a breach created by Dumbledore in an earnest, but perhaps misguided, effort to protect him from danger.
How long they stood there, simply embracing each other, they would never know. It was the growling of their stomachs which roused them, and they'd made breakfast … poking around in the kitchen for eggs and bacon, bread and cheese, butter and marmalade - moving like unthinking automatons as their minds went back, in a never-ending cycle, over the revelations made in the space of a day in this fantasy island of their dreams.
There had been no need for words - a glance, a raised eyebrow, a soft smile, a brush of fingers … it was all the communication they'd needed. At some point, she'd cocked her head to one side and he nodded; silently, they stood up and went for a walk on the beach … fingers entwined, the only sound the quiet crashing of waves on the shore.
Their walk had meandered, broken only by moments when one had hugged the other tightly, the taller Harry pressing his lips on Hermione's windblown hair even as she burrowed her face in his chest, both of them feeling the tears of the other on hair or chest, as the emotional strains of revelations and realizations crashed through mind and body.
Soon enough, feeling their skin tingling from the hot sun (which somehow did not seem to penetrate their bodies), they had walked back to their bungalow where Harry collapsed on a chair … Hermione, with only a moment's hesitation, settled herself on his lap, her head resting once again on his chest.
How long they sat there, neither could say … all that they knew was that there was nothing to say, nothing more they'd wanted to do but to remain locked forever in the others' arms.
Reality, however, finally seeped its way into Harry's mind.
Much as he loved holding Hermione in his arms, no matter how much he enjoyed having her arms around him … her weight was cutting off the blood to his legs and he could feel the tingling in his toes which meant that he either had to dump her on the floor, or ask her to sit beside him rather than on his lap.
Neither was something he wanted to do.
"Let's get some sleep, Harry." Her voice was muffled as her face pressed against him - but there was no mistaking the sudden yawn that she gave and he watched in silent amusement as she tried to stifle it with a fist to her mouth.
Silently and carefully, he stood up and placed her on her feet; he had to grit his teeth tightly for a moment as he felt the blood rush to his feet, the tingling sensation increasing by a fraction as he wiggled his toes to make sure that they were still connected to his body.
He smiled as she looked up at him with some concern; silently, he'd placed an arm around her slim waist and gently nudged her towards the door to their fantasy bungalow …
Which meant that it would be later in the afternoon, he thought - the idea confirmed as he realized that the stray ray of sunlight that had awakened him was quickly followed by a descending darkness … and that lights had started flickering around their room.
He blinked again for a moment and started to stretch as he normally did on waking up - and froze, realizing that the warmth he was feeling was not coming from within …
He'd fallen asleep with Hermione in his arms.
The memory flashed across his mind - the moment of indecision when he'd faced their adjoining bedrooms, the feel of Hermione's arms around him as she tugged him towards her bed, the brief second that he'd resisted until he'd given in to her unspoken plea not to leave her alone, the two of them lying down - automatically grabbing pillows to hug even as they turned to their sides … that brief sensation of her lips on his forehead and his hand entwining with hers…
His now-awakened brain started a catalog of sensations - matching them with each part of his body as he went through a mental checklist of parts.
His head … he had his face buried once again in Hermione's luxuriant head of glorious brown hair, and he took a deep breath, reveling once more in the intoxicating smell that hinted of cinnamon and apples - shampoo and soap that she used combining into that wonderful smell that he'd come to associate with her whenever she walked beside him.
He realized that he had spooned himself behind her - and he wondered for a brief moment where his pillow had gone - and with nothing between them, realized that this was the only explanation for the warmth he could feel along his chest and stomach, as she mumbled something in her sleep and pressed herself a little more into him.
A tickling sensation along an elbow - and he knew that she had been using his arm as a pillow, and he tried to listen to the sound of her breathing but finally contented himself with the rhythmic sensation of her body as she inhaled and exhaled…
He tried to move but stopped, as he realized that he had one arm around her - but she had one arm locking that arm to her, and her fingers were entwined with his, holding his hand to her chest - their legs tangled beneath the blanket thrown over them …
And he froze for a split-second, his brain suddenly in overdrive from the memory of waking up entangled with her at some point in this dream … quickly realized that he was in his pajamas as she was in hers, and he breathed a sigh of relief and felt himself relaxing …
"Is that a wand in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"
The sleep-tinged voice startled him and he tried to let go of her hand as she rolled over on her back - but she wouldn't let go, and he found himself jerking his hips away from her waist - feeling himself turn a bright and heated red, mentally berating his unthinking and illogical - he couldn't say unfeeling, could he? - part of his body ...
He heard her giggling and the sound warmed his heart; he found himself staring down at her, and felt his breath stop as did everything in his body, from his brain to his heart and down to his toes …
She is so beautiful.
It felt like he was seeing her for the first time … and maybe it was, he reflected. It was the first time he'd ever seen her this way: long, brown hair spread out on the bed framing her delicate face … the smooth forehead now free of the wrinkles when she frowned over a problem or an idea … the seemingly sculpted eyebrows and the long lashes tinged with gold from the flickering lights that surrounded them … the nose that he'd never really seen but now thought was so cute and becoming for her … the lips that seemed so full and imminently kissable … the strong chin that he'd come to admire over the years …
He watched her lips curve into an adorable smile as she stared back at him … watched as her face seemed to flush and redden under his gaze - and he heard himself echoing his thoughts out loud, saying in a voice tinged with wonder, "You're beautiful, Hermione."
He could feel her groping around and he held his breath … started breathing again when he felt her thrust something into his hand as she said, "I think you need new glasses, Harry."
He ignored the glasses in his hand as he continued staring at her, wishing for nothing more than to be allowed to stay this way forever - comfortable in her warmth, able to do nothing more than to stare and worship her; realizing at the same time that this was something he could easily do as soon as he finished his current thought: "No, I don't. You're really beautiful."
That statement out of the way, he dipped his head forward … fully intending to bask once more in the warm glow of his love for her - and her love for him …
CRASH!
They rolled apart and sat up at the same time, eyes wild and roaming around the room … heard the sound of running footsteps and a brief scuffle before a familiar voice said, "Hey, watch it!"
Instinctively, their hands gripped each other tightly - felt their hearts leaping to throats trying to block off air as the images around them registered - felt their muscles tense as the urge to hide under the bed or in some deep, dark hole that they hoped would be somewhere near, came over them …
This was not their dream bungalow on Fantasy Island.
They were back in the Hospital Wing, sitting up and holding hands in adjoining beds - and staring right into the eyes of a startled Cindy and Carolyn, the wide-eyed Terrible Two staring back at the speechless Harry and Hermione.
***
"You're back!"
The whispered words came from a stunned Carolyn but before Harry or Hermione could voice a response, the two young girls were on them, dropping their bags on the floor, climbing up on the bed to embrace them in fierce hugs which threatened to strangle them, eyes obscured by the long hair of the Terrible Two in their faces, ears assaulted with the blubbering, near-incoherent words of their siblings by friendship and adoption: "You're back … you're really, really back … we thought you wouldn't want to come back … oh, it's so good to have you back …"
The fierceness of Carolyn's hug was threatening to cut off the blood to Harry's brain - that same organ sending frantic appeals to him to get the near-hysterical child off his throat so that he could breathe, ignoring the thought that had sprung up at her words - 'what did she mean that we were not coming back?'
"What's going-" The stentorian roar of Madam Pomfrey as she charged out of her office broke the grip of the two young girls on their near-choking mentors and, as if it were a well-rehearsed move, Harry and Hermione shoved the two girls behind them in a protective gesture - neither one realizing that their other hands had automatically groped for and found each other, fingers quickly entwining as they prepared to face the wrath of the Dragon of the Hospital Wing …
They watched the nurse's stern face break into a warm smile at the sight of the awakened teens and they breathed easily; felt their breathing stop as she turned a fierce glare on the two young children cowering behind their mentors … and felt themselves relaxing once again when she chuckled softly.
"Good, you're awake!" She beamed a smile of welcome at them. "I was beginning to worry … I would have called a Healer in if you didn't wake up soon, or tried that Vulcan Healing thing that Carolyn was telling me about …"
Harry and Hermione blinked and glanced at each other, eyebrows to their hairlines before turning back to the nurse with a single question: "What time is it?"
"Nearly dinnertime," Madam Pomfrey responded. She shot a keen gaze at their frowning faces and her lips quirked, "… it's Mon-day," laying emphasis on the first syllable of the word - and smirked as she saw the shocked look on their faces. Before either one could voice their thoughts, she continued, "You've been here since Thursday."
She turned away from the shocked faces to give them a chance to assimilate the news and glanced around the wing - noted an empty bed and a shattered goblet on the floor, and turned steely eyes on the Terrible Two. "Where is Miss Chang?" she said in a decidedly cold voice.
"Cho was here?" Harry said, surprised.
Hermione felt her heart dropping … crashing through the bed and shattering on the floor beneath as she saw the look on Harry's face. 'Welcome to the REAL world,' she thought, 'where Harry slops water all over himself when Cho waves at him and he feels betrayed when he learns that Cedric was taking Cho to the Ball … he's probably regretting what he said to me when he woke up--'
She felt the tears prickling and angrily wiped them away, not realizing that she had roughly pulled her hand away from Harry's grasp and, even if she did, not caring at all.
Harry felt the hand leaving his and he glanced at her in surprise - saw her set, angry and determined face and felt his heart breaking apart. 'Welcome to the REAL world,' he thought glumly. 'She's probably worrying about the classes she's missed and whether Snape will allow her to take a special test to catch up with the one that we missed …'
'It was nothing but a dream,' he thought as he felt an ache in the empty place where his heart had been, not even listening to Cindy explain that they'd run into Cho as they were coming in to visit, Madam Pomfrey tut-tutting at that and telling the two to look for her patient in the Great Hall and tell her to come back for a proper examination after dinner.
None of these penetrated Hermione's roiling brain as her mind reviewed everything she could remember - and the well-developed, well-exercised logical part of her brain tried to make sense of the dreams that she had: of Fantasy Island and Mr. Roarke, of talking with Lily and James, the teasing she got at the hands of her parents who would, she knew, be wrapping up their last patient right about now … for a brief moment, she wished that she hadn't walked out on Divination, realizing in the same instant that she could always go to the library to look up 'Unfogging the Future' or some other book on dream interpretation …
She absently waved at the departing Cindy and Carolyn, her mind still locked on the research that she would implement once she caught up with her classes …
"Mr. Potter!" She blinked at the sharp tone in Madam Pomfrey's voice and glanced at Harry in surprise. "Would you lie down so I could examine you properly?"
She watched as he silently laid down on the bed - just as quietly, she stood and made her way to another bed, away from the place she had spent four days snuggling - 'no!' her rational mind shouted at her - 'you were unconscious the past four days! You were not snuggling with him' - even as something within her tried to fight back at those reasoned, thoughtful words.
Harry lay still on the bed as Madam Pomfrey ran her wand over him, ignoring her occasional murmurs as she ran her tests. He stared at the ceiling over him, noting out of the corner of his eye that Hermione was sitting at another bed, away from their joined beds … not looking at him, a far-away look in her eyes (the look he always associated with her before she bolted for the library) - and he sighed, already missing her presence close to him as he tried to keep his hands from clenching at the roiling ache in his mind and his soul.
"It's just a dream," he repeated to himself. "It's crazy … a prophecy? Meeting Hermione when I was nine? Dumbledore Obliviating me because he wanted to protect me by keeping Hermione away? Mum and Dad joining me? They're dead …"
Hermione heard him sigh and forced her face to turn away, maintaining a cold expression on her face as she fought with the aching emptiness of her chest and the notes being made by her logical mind. 'He's probably embarrassed at what just happened … probably cursing himself for saying that when he didn't know Cho was around …"
She looked up as Madam Pomfrey called her name, and obediently laid down, biting down on her lower lip as the nurse went over her with the lit wand, face turned away from Harry - not realizing that he was looking at her with a longing expression, not even thinking that he was growing increasingly concerned and worried at her stoic silence …
'This is the REAL world,' she kept repeating to herself. 'Harry's my best friend, and I have to keep a clear head so that I could study and find more charms and hexes so that he can fight Voldemort … so that he will remain alive and fulfill the Prophecy - SHUT IT!'
"Will you relax, Miss Granger?" The exasperated voice of Madam Pomfrey cut through her agitated brain and she stared, wide-eyed, at the frowning nurse. With a visible effort, she forced her body to relax … stilled her mind with a continuing incantation: "It's nothing but a dream … it's nothing but a dream …"
"What was that, Miss Granger?"
Surprised, she looked up at Madam Pomfrey and quickly said, "Nothing, Madam Pomfrey … just a thought …" - not realizing that Harry had heard her, and her words had been like a sword through his chest, his face quickly assuming the same cold, expressionless look she was struggling to regain: lips pursed, eyes turning lifeless and blank, even as he felt his mind locked into a furious battle between two sides: one wanting to believe her words, the other utterly refusing to do so …
Soon enough, the nurse finished examining her, and she sat up as the nurse put away her wand.
"Well," Madam Pomfrey said to their inquiring looks, "you are both in perfect health - no sign of the concussions that you had when you came in here last week."
She frowned as she realized that the two were holding themselves stiffly, as if they were mortal enemies forced to a truce, but she plowed on, her duties as a nurse and Healer primary in her mind: "Your robes and some clothes are here so that you can change; it wouldn't do to be wandering the castle in your pyjamas. Since it's close to dinner, you are both to go directly to the Great Hall and have something to eat - not too much, mind!"
"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," they mumbled. It was apparent that they were both eager to leave, and she narrowed her eyes at them. "Miss Granger, you are to go directly to the Great Hall and have dinner. You are not to go to your Common Room or the library until after you've eaten.
"Mr. Potter." Harry's head snapped up at her tone. "Please make sure that Miss Granger has something to eat. You've both been living on nutritional potions for a few days; I daresay some bulk would do much to improve your dispositions."
Harry nodded, wondering whether he could actually do that to his stubborn friend without laying a hand on her. Wordlessly, he grabbed his clothes from the bedside table; quietly, he handed Hermione's clothes to her - both nearly jumping as if electrocuted when their fingers brushed when Hermione reached for her clothes.
Silently, they went to separate ends of the Hospital Wing where they changed behind screens still set up around several mussed beds; soon enough, they were again in front of Madam Pomfrey, expressing their gratitude for her efforts but keeping a clear distance between them, neither of them noticing the frown on her elderly face.
As they were about to leave, however, Madam Pomfrey called Harry back - Hermione stood by the door, waiting for him and heard the nurse telling Harry to make sure to tell Cho that she was to return to the Hospital Wing that night.
The words brought another aching slice to her heart, and she walked away without bothering to wait for Harry … finding a handkerchief in the pocket of her robes, she angrily wiped at her teary eyes and blindly walked away, unheeding of the hurrying footsteps behind her as Harry tried to catch up …
They were unaware that Madam Pomfrey was standing at the door to the Hospital Wing, staring after the two teens, a frown creasing her forehead … wondering what had happened to have elicited such a change in the two teens who'd been snuggling so closely together while unconscious and under her care.
She glanced at the empty joined beds and sighed; with waves of her wand and muttered incantations, the beds separated and went back to their normal places … the bed linens flying out and folding themselves before dropping into a laundry basket.
In a wink of an eye, the Hospital Wing was back to its normal state - beds in a line, crisp linens and pillows in place, nothing to even indicate that it had once hosted two teens who had been chasing a dream.
***
The empty corridors of Hogwarts echoed with dissonant steps as Hermione tried to take three steps to Harry's one. She couldn't understand why her normally logical and singularly-focused brain was in constant turmoil, one side trying to tell her that she had to talk with Harry while the other kept insisting that it was nothing but a dream - all she wanted at this point was to get her dinner over and done with so she could hide in her room and cry her heart out …
She had a head start on him, and he knew it would be difficult to catch up - unless he broke into a run and she suddenly tripped and fell. He could not understand what had happened … why she had suddenly turned so cold … unless, as he thought, it had all been a dream as she had said in the Hospital Wing -
But then, why had she blushed? Why had she made that joke … and it had all been so real …
Enough. This had gone far enough - "Hermione!"
She wouldn't stop, he realized - and he broke into a run, praying that she, too, wouldn't start running … grateful that whatever funk had wrapped itself around her seemed to have made her deaf …
She nearly tripped when she felt a hand on her shoulder - felt a tingle up her spine when she felt a hand on her elbow, steadying her and stopping her from falling … looked up and caught her breath when her eyes locked with green eyes that had been so familiar before, and even more memorable now - those green eyes that had haunted her dreams with that oh-so-distinctive look of love and concern -
She tried to pull away from the grip he had on her arm, tried to turn her tear-streaked face away from his compassionate look, shivered as she felt a gentle hand softly, caressingly, brush away her hair from her face as he asked, "What's wrong, Hermione?"
She wanted nothing more in that moment than to throw her arms around him and hug him as tightly as she did in her dream … wished for nothing more than to slam her head against his so that she could knock herself out along with him, just so she could try and find that Fantasy Island and the dream house on the beach where she could feel safe in his arms - no Voldemort, no Death Eaters, and no Cho Chang to disturb her time with Harry …
She held herself back with an effort, trying desperately not to drown in the green pools that she loved … totally unaware of Harry's tense arm and hand on her elbow, tense because of the effort to keep himself from dragging her into the nearest broom closet where he could snog her senseless, where he could wrap his arms around her and hold her as he had done over and over again on that Fantasy Island of his dreams …
"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked - or croaked? - as he felt himself drowning in pools of warm, chocolate waters. He felt her drawing closer to him, felt his face coming down to meet her - and nearly jumping out of his skin as shouts of "They're awake! They're awake!" rebounded around the once-empty corridor leading to the Great Hall.
Before they could make a move, they were surrounded - Ginny fighting for space with Lavender and Parvati as they hugged her, chattering away like maddened budgies at the return of their dorm-mate, Harry nearly thrown to the floor from the enthusiastic hugs of the Gryffindor Quidditch team led by the Weasley twins even as Seamus, Dean and Neville were trying to pound his back into pieces, continuous flashes indicating that Colin was, as usual, recording this event for posterity …
"Hey guys! Let them breathe, OK?" The loud, amused voice quickly broke up the enthusiastic hugging around Harry and Hermione, and the two separate groups broke apart and stood aside - revealing Ron Weasley in the corridor, the Terrible Two on either side of him, a wide, wide grin on his face although a haunted, distant look seemed to linger in his eyes.
"Ron!" The assembled Gryffindors smiled, laughed or cheered as they watched Harry and Hermione leaping on the third half of their unbeatable Trio, embracing him enthusiastically even as he hugged them back - Cindy and Carolyn on either side of them, smiling at the way their mentors renewed their friendship even as they felt a fugitive fear in the back of their minds slowly dissipating away …
Fred and George glanced at each other, smiling - they knew that if they didn't do something, there would be no going back to the Great Hall for dinner and they were all - at this moment - an inviting target for Peeves and his water balloons which, they suspected, the poltergeist had been filling up in one of the toilets on the floor.
Before they could say anything, however, a sudden silence fell on the group as everyone ran out of things to say - and the silence was broken by the rumbling of three stomachs - and the laughing group entered the Great Hall, engaged in a furious debate as to whose stomach - Ron, Harry or Hermione's - had rumbled the loudest in the corridor.
Hermione was watching Harry from the corner of her eye as they entered the Great Hall, and felt the familiar stab in her heart and the prickling of her eyes when she saw him stop, eyes staring straight ahead from behind his glasses at the Ravenclaws' table.
She was about to turn away and head for their table when she felt Harry gripping her elbow tightly; before she could pull away, she heard his shocked voice, "What's Hedwig doing with Dumbledore?"
She looked up and realized that Harry hadn't been looking at the Ravenclaws at all (or a specific Ravenclaw in particular), but at the teacher's table. She realized what she had overlooked: the Headmaster's chair was, of course, in the center of the teachers' table, which would place Dumbledore at just about the middle of the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables …
She saw what Harry had been looking at: Hedwig, indeed, was perched on Dumbledore's shoulder. The latter was scribbling something even as the snowy owl seemed to fidget, apparently wanting nothing more than to take flight and go to her owner but held to her place by a sense of responsibility …
She pondered the meaning of that as they were propelled to their table and she took her seat, totally unaware that Harry had taken a seat beside her while Ginny was on her other side, only half-listening as Harry and Ron (who'd taken a seat opposite from them) talked about Quidditch (Hufflepuff versus Ravenclaw next week), while Lavender, Parvati and Ginny gossiped to her side …
She blinked when Harry nudged her and saw her plate already filled with food - looked up to see Harry smiling at her -- and she smiled back and bent over her plate, thinking, at the same time, that she would have to ask Dobby for some lasagna for Crookshanks - said thought stopping the fork going to her mouth.
"Something wrong, Hermione?" She looked up into the worried eyes of Ginny and forced a smile. "Nothing, Ginny … I was just wondering if Crookshanks would like some lasagna for dinner …"
"Not tonight, Hermione." Shocked, she stared at Ron's laughing face. "He's been gorging himself on lasagna since Saturday night … I think he needs a break from that."
A sudden giggle from Ca drew her attention; at her inquiring look, the young girl explained, "I was wondering if he was related to Garfield; the way he tucks into the lasagna …"
For some reason, she glanced at Harry - and saw his wide eyes looking at her, mirroring her own surprise at those words. 'No, it couldn't be,' she thought, stopping her head from shaking at the thought - 'it's a dream, a dream, a-.' She saw Harry looking up and turned her head up - and saw Hedwig winging her way towards them.
Harry quickly held out his hand, his Seeker's eyes noticing an envelope held in Hedwig's beak - and dropped it in surprise as his owl ignored him and landed, with a soft flutter of wings, on Hermione's shoulder. The surprised girl took the offered envelope from the owl; having been relieved of its burden, Hedwig quickly hopped onto Harry's shoulder and started nibbling his ear affectionately; Harry automatically picked up some bacon from a plate and handed it to her, all the while looking at Hermione as she opened the envelope and started reading.
"It's from Dumbledore," she said and she looked up at Harry. "He said that he would like to see us in his office after dinner to … (she glanced back at the letter in her hand) 'discuss some important matters'."
He shrugged at her worried look and glanced at Ron - and realized, for a fleeting moment, that there was something wrong with their other best friend. It was something indefinable … something he couldn't place a finger on … something connected to what seemed to be a haunted look in his eyes. For a brief moment, an errant memory slipped into his mind … of comforting a brown-haired, green-eyed girl in the Red Queen after Ron had left them - he blinked and shook his head, trying to grab at the memory that seemed to be fading away, and turned as he heard a soft "Ohhh!" of surprise coming from Hermione.
She was sitting with a shocked look on her face, staring at a picture in her hand; he shifted to take a look but Ginny snatched the picture away from Hermione's nerveless fingers before he could even look.
He was about to ask her what that was all about, but was stopped by Ginny's delighted squeal, "How cute! Is this you as a baby, Hermione? … and who's the other baby with you?"
He tried to reach for the picture but it was already beyond reach; Ginny had handed it over to Lavender and Parvati, who were both enthusiastically cooing and ahh-ing over the picture even as the other Gryffindors crowded around, the picture swiftly passing from hand to hand …
"Hermione?" He nudged her softly, and she turned shocked eyes to his - and he felt something molten erupting in his stomach and he knew … he knew what the picture was …
"So who's the other baby, Hermione?" He looked up at Ron, who was now holding the picture and he could only stay frozen in his chair as he watched a curious Cindy grabbing the picture.
"I … I don't know, Ron," Hermione whispered and Harry's eyes locked with hers, a silent conversation happening as he expressed agreement with her decision to keep her thoughts to herself. He started when Cindy squealed in delight, "Look, Miss Hermione - the picture's moving! I thought Muggle photographs can't do that --"
Harry glanced at the picture and felt his eyes widen at the sight of his baby self tugging baby Hermione closer to him …
He half-listened to Colin Creevey explaining to anyone who would listen that Muggle photographs, while usually unmoving, could actually move if those photographed were magical - and the photo was brought into a place with a high concentration of magical energies, like Hogwarts.
Unthinking, his hand reached out and he felt Hermione's hand in his, squeezing back in quiet sympathy; their eyes wandering to the teacher's table and their aged Headmaster at his chair. Both assumed that, were it not for the flickering light caused by the floating candles in the Great Hall, they would have seen Dumbledore's twinkling eyes smiling at them - but they were both wrong.
Dumbledore's eyes held a mixture of worry and despair, something that the teachers at the table missed, consumed as they all were with curiosity at the picture being passed from hand to hand at the Gryffindor table.
***
"Please sit down, both of you. Some tea, perhaps?"
They were sitting in Dumbledore's office, befuddled, unsure of how they had gotten there without guidance, knowing only that they'd stood up from their table when their Headmaster did, and followed him out without a word being said … totally unaware that the entire Great Hall - from teachers to students to ghosts - had watched them walking out with their hands entwined.
The moment they'd stepped out, the entire Hall was abuzz with excitement; the Weasley twins seizing the opportunity to do some business - and becoming terribly disappointed when no one would bet against them - at 10 to 1 odds - that it was Harry and Hermione in the picture that had quickly made the rounds of the different tables (for some reason, avoiding the Slytherin table all together) -- the teachers passing the picture from hand to hand: McGonagall smiling and wiping a surreptitious finger over her eyes, Snape sneering at the picture before passing it on to Flitwick as if it were dripping with bubotuber pus. The small Charms teacher glanced at it with a grin before passing it to Trelawney who'd attempted to do a reading but was stopped by Professor Sprout who'd grabbed the picture from her.
"Professor …" Harry said, stopping to watch a wide-eyed Hermione as she looked around Dumbledore's office. He realized, with a start, that this would be Hermione's first time in the Headmaster's office; star student and Gryffindor Prefect that she was, she'd gone only as far as McGonagall's offices -
"That's a phoenix!" she said in awe as she saw Fawkes on his perch, and fell silent as it gave a warbling trill which seemed to warm her very soul.
"Hello, Fawkes," Harry said quietly as the phoenix gave another trill as if it was greeting him in return. He smiled at Hermione's stupefied expression: "This is Hermione … I don't think you've met before?"
The phoenix cocked its head to one side as it regarded the girl beside him and, it seemed to Hermione, burst into a song of greeting which stopped when Dumbledore spoke.
"I would like to apologize, Harry." Startled, Harry looked at his headmaster, as the latter continued, "For borrowing Hedwig without your permission. I woke up very early this morning with a need to send something to your parents, Miss Granger-"
Hermione's startled, "My parents, Professor?" was nearly overshadowed by Harry's blurted, "Something, Headmaster?" and the old man held up a hand to stop their questions. They settled down as he continued, "Yes … I felt it was important to tell them that you were all right, Miss Granger. They have been worried about you--" he paused as he watched the two teens exchange a look, and knew that Harry had granted permission for Hermione to send a letter to her parents with Hedwig - "and that, for some reason, I had to send them a picture of you, Harry …"
"A picture? Of me?"
"Actually, a picture of you with James and Lily." The old man paused for a moment before continuing, "I was actually planning to give you the picture at the end of your first year … something they sent me soon after you were born."
He held up his hand again as Harry opened his mouth, "But then Hagrid started collecting pictures for the album he gave you; that was the only picture I kept of the three of you and everything else that I had, I turned over to Hagrid."
"But why did you send a picture of Harry and his parents to Mum and Dad, Professor? They wouldn't know each other--" Hermione stopped and turned shocked eyes to Harry, who was looking at her with the same dazed expression on his face as their dream-memories started crashing through the logical barriers of their minds. They turned to Dumbledore who had missed their exchange of looks, engrossed as he was in his gnarled and aged hands, wondering again what would result from this discussion … a conversation that he knew could end with both teens losing their faith and trust in him.
"Professor Dumbledore." He lifted pained and worried eyes to see two pairs of eyes - one green and overly bright, the other dark brown and in shock - staring at him. Before he could speak, Harry continued: "What you wanted to talk with us about … It's about the Prophecy, isn't it?"
The statement, delivered in a soft, no-nonsense tone, would have been sufficient to cause a heart attack in a lessen man - but Dumbledore was made of sterner stuff, and been tempered to steel by his years of fighting the Dark Side. As it was, however, their words caused enough of a shock to make him sit back in his chair as if he'd been kicked in the guts - and they were treated to a sight no one had seen in a long time: their esteemed Headmaster acting like a goldfish in a bowl, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he tried to work a word or two out of his throat.
"How … How …"
For a moment, Harry was tempted to keep silent; to walk out of that office with Hermione and pay the old man back for the years of silence and manipulation that he had undergone. And yet, even as the thought flashed through his mind, fragments of the dream came crashing back: Dumbledore's explanations and reasoning which, he remembered now, he could neither refute or contest; the steel in his father's voice as he told Harry: "I wasn't fighting for Dumbledore, Harry. I wasn't even fighting for what people thought was right--"
The old man had done what he thought was right, he thought - as Harry had done what he thought was right: including asking Cedric Diggory to claim the Tri-Wizard Cup with him, an action which had led to the Hufflepuff's death. And, while he could claim ignorance of the circumstances, it did not change the fact that his decision to do what he deemed was right and proper had led to Cedric's death.
He felt Hermione's hand in his, squeezing his hand softly, and he remembered her father's parting words to him: "What's comin' will come, an we'll meet it when it does. We're with you, Harry, whatever you do."
He turned and locked eyes with his Headmaster and took a deep breath. "I … I woke up on a beach somewhere, Professor," he began. "The last thing I remembered before that was diving towards Hermione because of the Bludger heading her way…"
***
"And then we woke up in the Hospital Wing … and that's it."
"I see." For a long moment, none of the occupants in the room spoke - and Harry realized that even the portraits of Headmasters and Headmistresses past had stopped snoring at some point as they listened to the story - in the same way that the musical instruments in the room had fallen quiet, as if they too were listening. The silence was broken by a soft, warbling sound from Fawkes - with a sudden flash of fire, he disappeared from his perch, eliciting a squeak of surprise from Hermione.
Before she could ask what had happened, Dumbledore's soft voice interrupted her: "Thank you."
"Professor?" He smiled gently at the surprised looks on their faces. "For telling me ... even though I am not deserving of such confidence and trust from the two of you."
"So it's true then? The prophecy … Harry's birthday … meeting Sarah?"
The old man looked away from Hermione's question and Harry's miserable face - turning to stare at a small picture hidden amidst the clutter of parchments and other things on his desk as he softly replied, "I cared about you too much, Harry. I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act."
He turned away from the picture and turned to face them: "I Obliviated your memories of each other years ago to protect you, Harry … to keep you from breaking the protection I placed around you and which was bound to the home of your only living relatives.
"And I have kept my silence about the Prophecy even though there was every opportunity to tell you what it was since your first year here, because I didn't want to burden you with a task so terrible that no man - wizard or not - should carry. I thought it best that I carry that burden alone … bear it in silence until the time came when you had to know … when I felt that it would be the right time to tell you.
"In other words, I acted in what I thought was your best interest … and for that I can only apologize and reiterate - I did what I thought was best."
His words were met by silence and he bowed to the inevitable; he'd known that he was taking this very risk when he refused to tell Harry the reason for Voldemort's seeming obsession with killing him - and when he'd opted to keep silent about Harry and Hermione's first real meeting at the age of nine at a park in summer England. As the feelings of remorse coursed through his body, a fragment of his own dream came back to him - something, he realized, that the two had edited from their tale: an angry, hurting Harry Potter's accusing voice: "Is that why you rescued me from the house … is that why you brought me to Aunt Petunia and sentenced me to that horrible place? Is that why you felt it was so important to protect me … not because I was a baby who'd lost his parents … but because I am the tool you needed to destroy Voldemort?"
He remembered wanting to refute that accusation, but holding himself still and accepting the statement … because he had to admit to the truth of that statement. No matter that his priority was to keep Harry safe and unharmed, no matter his lingering hope that Voldemort would not be able to come back, the truth was-
"Divination is an imprecise branch of magic, Professor." He blinked and looked up - and saw Hermione staring at Harry as if the latter had suddenly sprung two heads. Harry smiled at her and turned to Dumbledore: "I understand, Professor. No one could have known what would happen … there's no one to blame but Voldemort."
Harry paused for a moment, thinking, slowly rubbing Hermione's hand with his thumb before looking at Dumbledore: "Thank you for everything you've done for me."
The old man looked at him in surprise; a part of his mind probing the words for any trace of sarcasm or cynicism. Finding none, he bowed his head in acquiescence and stood up to prepare some tea for the two teens.
Harry smiled at Hermione and quietly lifted her fingers to his lips. Seeing Hermione's questioning look, he murmured 'Mum' - and she remembered Lily Potter's words to her son as he asked why they had to die: "Maybe because you no longer needed us … there was someone waiting for you … someone who would need you as much as you would need her."
She started in surprise as a flash of fire announced the return of Fawkes, with the picture that her parents had sent her in his beak. Silently, Dumbledore took the picture from the phoenix and glanced at it before looking at Hermione with a grin: "I assume, Miss Granger, that this is Harry and yourself?"
She blushed and nodded; looked up in surprise when Harry asked, as he looked at the picture in Dumbledore's hand, "It wouldn't have worked, would it, Professor? If you had known that Hermione's Mum and mine had met before … you would still have placed me with the Dursleys, because of the protection you felt I needed?"
Dumbledore sighed as he nodded in agreement with Harry's assessment. "I'm sorry, Harry … as I said, I thought there was no other way."
"I wonder …" The old man and the girl looked at him strangely, and he smiled. "What would have happened if we had grown up together?"
For a moment, a nonplussed Dumbledore and Hermione stared at him - and Hermione's face broke out in a grin.
"Well for one thing, Ron wouldn't be our friend." Hermione's smile grew wider at his blank look. "You'd probably have beaten him up in first year for insulting me after our Charms class."
Harry smiled, remembering Ron's tactless remark that was, in a way, the start of his adventures with his bushy-haired, bossy, know-it-all friend. "True," he grinned back. "But then, you'd probably have challenged Draco Malfoy to a wizard's duel for trying to get me in trouble over Neville's Rememberall!"
She snickered at that comment and said, "At least I wouldn't have tried punching him in the nose, as I remember Ron advising you to do …"
Harry's loud bark of laughter at that sally caused a smile to light up Dumbledore's face, and he thanked whatever Divinity there was - or Harry and Hermione's innate magic - to have pulled David and Abigail Granger into that Fantasy Island of their dreams, and to have given the two teens a lesson that even he had forgotten: "people laugh because it is the only way to keep from crying."
That, more than anything else, was the primary reason that he'd allowed - even tolerated - the shenanigans of the Weasley Twins and their protégés, the Terrible Two. Unknowingly, he echoed the sentiment of Lily Potter as she regarded the two young girls who had become so much a part of Harry and Hermione's lives: they needed the two young girls, someone to remind them of what was important, someone to remind them that there was a far larger world and people out there who mattered…
He looked up at a sudden note of pathos in Harry's voice: "But if we had grown up, then I wouldn't be taking you to the Yule Ball …"
Hermione tried to lighten the mood as she interjected, "Excuse me, Mr. Potter - you haven't yet taken me to the Ball."
Dumbledore cleared his throat at that, and smiled at the two teens, "There will be other opportunities for a dance, Miss Granger."
He tried to stop the twinkle the he knew would be coming out in his eyes as he pondered the letter that he'd received that very morning from the American Federation of Witchcraft and Wizardry … as well as the letter he'd received from Sarah the other day which, he now realized, was the reason she had been on his mind when he'd tripped and found himself on the island with the two teens.
"Professor?" He shook his head of his thoughts at the serious tone in Hermione's voice and he peered at her through his glasses. "Cindy and Carolyn were with us when you revealed the prophecy … does that mean they know about it?"
"Probably not, Hermione," Harry said before Dumbledore could speak. "They would have mentioned something …"
"But remember what they were saying when we woke up, Harry," Hermione argued. "They were carrying on about you and I not coming back. Given what we learned … do you think we would have wanted to come back?"
"Maybe that's why Mr. Roarke didn't escort us back? I wouldn't have minded another few days there …" Harry quickly eluded Hermione's light slap, and stuck his tongue out at her. Hermione merely shook her head at him as she huffed, "Boys!" - and smiled as she remembered her father and James doing exactly the same thing to her mother and Lily.
"You can always find your way back, I think," Dumbledore interrupted them. He smiled at the sudden embarrassment that flamed their faces a bright red and quickly centered the discussion. "But you may have nothing to worry about with those two … to be honest, I think the memory of the dream fades. After all, most people - even magical ones - can't remember their dreams on waking up."
He paused for a moment and continued, turning a sardonic eyebrow at Harry: "Unless they keep a dream diary - and don't make one up an hour or so before Divination."
Harry had the grace to blush at Dumbledore's comment about his study habits - and saw Hermione sticking her tongue at him. Before Harry could react, Dumbledore continued in a contemplative voice, "It may well be that some fragments remain buried in one's subconscious … which may be why Miss Galloway and Miss Wright were so afraid that you might not come back. From what I remember, it has been an idyllic vacation for you … my inadvertent revelations aside, of course."
The old man fought to keep his smile from breaking out as he regarded the two blushing teens … and again, felt a wave of remorse and regret coursing through his body as he remembered his decision to intrude six years before. Would things have been different if he hadn't intervened?
He glanced at the picture in his hand of two magical babies snuggling in their crib - and smiled at the memory of two unconscious teens snuggling together in the Hospital Wing …
He sighed heavily at the thought. Maybe things would have been different but, as Harry pointed out, Divination was an imprecise branch of magic. They had all been acting to the dictates of the Prophecy that Sybill Trelawney had proclaimed fifteen years before: Voldemort, himself, James and Lily … Sirius, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew … but how were they, all of them, to know about the girl who would own Harry's heart - the baby that he'd met when only a few months old, the little girl who'd shared her sandwich with a virtual stranger on a swing, the eleven year old that he'd gone after when he realized that she didn't know about the troll …
The young woman who had been with him through all his adventures and, in doing so, had shown Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and their great hope in the fight against Voldemort, what trust, loyalty and love was all about?
"Professor?" He shook his head as he looked up at a serious, burdened Harry Potter who sat with hands entwined with Hermione Granger's. "Where do we go from here?"
He sighed and looked down at his hands - old and gnarled, callused through years of wielding wand in defence of right, stained through the years of dabbling in Alchemy with Nicolas Flamel, and spoke from the heart: "We go on, Harry … taking each day as it comes, doing what we believe is right rather than taking the path that is easy."
"That's going to be difficult, Professor," Harry replied, looking down at his own hands, entwined as they were with Hermione's slim fingers. "There's so much to do … so much to think about …"
Dumbledore looked at him for a long moment, pondering what to say … and a small, errant memory of his time with Sarah's grandmother came to mind. With quick, economical gestures, he carefully placed the unused teapot on his desk and transfigured it into a large glass jar. The two teens in front of him watched, puzzled.
"Tell me, Harry," he said with a wave of his wand, filling the jar with golden balls the size of Snitches, "is this jar empty or full?"
"Full," Harry replied, a puzzled look on his face.
"Is it?" he said softly. With a muttered incantation, a stream of pebbles poured from his wand, falling into the jar and finding their way in between the golden balls. "So … is it full now?"
Harry smiled, wondering where this was going but willing to play along. "Full."
Another incantation, and grains of fine sand started pouring into the jar, again filling in the spaces between rocks and balls, and he smiled at Harry who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Harry responded, "I think it's full now, Professor."
"Is it?" With a wave of his wand, he conjured a bottle of butterbeer which he opened and proceeded to pour into the jar - and the two teens watched as the liquid foamed and settled within. Silently, they watched as he conjured and poured another two bottles into the jar until he finally sat back, the jar now truly filled.
"Think of the jar as your life, Harry … Hermione. The golden balls are the important things: your families, your friends, your favorite passions ('Like the library?' Harry asked, only to receive an elbow in the ribs from Hermione) … eventually, your children and grandchildren -- things that, if everything in life were gone and only they remain, your life will still be full.
"The pebbles are the other things that matter - your house, your broomstick, Harry, your pets … down the road, your jobs and other possessions. The sand is everything else … the small things."
"Professor …"
"If you put sand in the jar first, there will be no room for the balls or the pebbles. In other words, there will be no room for the things that truly matter to you."
The old man locked eyes with Harry and then Hermione before continuing: "If you spend your time and energy on the small things, you will never have room for the things that are important to you.
"Take care of the things that really matter. The rest is just sand."
The two teens pondered his words for a moment, before Harry spoke up: "I hate to think that … killing Voldemort … is critical to my happiness, Professor."
"Of course not, Harry … but keep in mind two things: one, dealing with him will ensure your future and the future of the ones you love. Second - Voldemort, by himself, is hardly the only thing that is critical to your happiness.
"Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play Quidditch, spend some time in the library, have fun with your friends … spend time with each other. You don't need to go chasing after dreams when you can have as much time with each other during your waking moments.
"It's all a matter of proportion - learn to distinguish between the things you have to do on a day-to-day basis and everything will fall into place. Deal with life a day at a time, doing what is important and leaving the big things to when you can deal with them."
"What's coming will come, and we'll deal with them when they come?"
"Exactly, Harry! You cannot live your life worrying about the small things and forgetting all about the big things; neither can you focus only on the big things and let the small things pass you by. There has to be time for both … it is in keeping a balance that one can get through life without letting it hurt you."
For a long moment, silence reigned in the room as the two teens pondered his words. Finally, with a sigh and a smile, Harry looked up at him and said, "Thank you, Professor."
He smiled at the two teens (noticing Hermione's frown as she thought over his Harry prepared to stand up and take his leave) and waited silently. His smile widened as he saw Hermione stopping Harry, and turned to him with a question: "And the butterbeer, Professor? What does that mean?"
"The most important lesson of all, Miss Granger. No matter how full your life seems-" With a wave of his hand, he conjured up six bottles of butterbeer on his desk, "… there is always time for a butterbeer or two."
He grinned impishly at their slack-jawed faces and gestured to the bottles on the desk. Another complicated gesture with his wand, and the bottles were transfigured into loaves of bread placed within a basket with a cloth covering them - just as a soft chiming sounded from somewhere in the room.
He glanced at a clock that neither of the teens could see, and turned to them with a smile.
"I would be much obliged if the two of you fetched Miss Galloway and Miss Wright from the Hospital Wing where they are serving detention. Madam Pomfrey has been escorting them to their dormitories everyday to make sure they wouldn't leave any mischief in the halls." He watched as they stood up to leave and spoke.
"Harry!" The old man gestured to the basket of bread on the table. "Mr. Filch will have a conniption if he sees you in the hall with the bottles. Use Finite Incantetum when you are back in your Common Room. I believe that Mr. and Miss Weasley are waiting up for you; you and the others can have a butterbeer before you go to sleep."
He paused for a moment, a twinkle now apparent in his eyes, and waved his hand at the basket, where four cans of soda suddenly popped up -- "And tell Cindy and Carolyn … no butterbeer for them until they're older."
The two teens smiled at him in silent agreement, and he dismissed them with a wave: "Welcome back … and thank you for your confidence and trust."
The smile remained on his face as he watched the two make their way out of his office, still holding hands while Harry carried the basket out, looking for all the world as if they were about to have a picnic on the beach. He heard Fawkes rustling his feathers and he looked up as the phoenix trilled a single note which seemed to warm the room - and he glanced down at the photograph of two snuggling babies on his desk.
"I'll send this to Miss Granger tomorrow, old friend. And as for me," he glanced down at his desk and the small picture frame nestling there among his other concerns and affairs, "I think that it's time for me to go chasing after a dream."