Five
A CRACK and Hermione was gone, leaving her parents alone in the centre of the lounge room.
"No place like home," Dan said with a grin. He turned as if to head off to bed when Emma stopped him.
"I know you're tired dear, but we should wait until Hermione gets back so we can say `hello' to Harry. After that you can go to bed." Dan made a noise in reply that Emma had heard many times before, and though she was almost expecting it she had hoped they could at least greet Harry in a friendly manner. "Give him a chance, Dan. He isn't even HERE yet and already you're --," she began.
"I'm what?" he asked.
"You're cranky," she told him.
"I'm not cranky, I just --."
"Just what? Just don't like him?" Emma asked. Dan made no reply either verbal or otherwise, indicating to Emma she was right.
"I don't NOT like him. I just don't know him," Dan said. Emma said nothing but sat down on one of the lounges awaiting Harry's arrival. Dan, taking her cue, sat on the opposite lounge.
"Yet!" Emma said.
"What?"
"You don't know him, YET!" Emma finished. "Give him a chance."
Dan made the same noise he had earlier that indicated to Emma she was right about what she was afraid of the first time: he WAS cranky, and he DIDN'T like Harry.
"Look, it might only be for a couple of days, and either you or I will be here the entire time," Emma said. "Not to mention that I have the feeling Hermione could probably take care of herself. She seems to like the boy, Dan, and she's worried about him. I'll have a few talks with him and hopefully we'll be able to sort some things out. You heard what Molly said, Dan. The Weasleys know him better than we do and they wouldn't hesitate having Harry stay for a few days."
"No consolation to me if something happens to Hermione while he is here. How sure are you that he'll keep his promise and refrain from magic?"
"I have no idea, but he seemed sincere enough when he agreed. He handed the wand straight over and neither of us asked him to. Let's at least give him a --,"
CRACK! Hermione, Harry and his trunk appeared in the centre of the living room.
"-- chance," Emma finished.
Hermione was beaming in the centre of the living room, holding Harry's arm, having just apparated both of them as well as his trunk and empty owl cage.
"Hello again, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Harry said, smiling.
"Hello, Harry," Emma said warmly.
"Hello, Harry," Dan said but with only the minimum of a smile. If Harry saw that Hermione's father seemed... out of sorts, he gave no indication. Instead he looked about him and took in the surroundings. He stood in the centre of a large open lounge-room and saw the television, hi-fi, and some cabinets leaning against the wall, full of crystal and glass ornaments. Behind him an upright piano was pushed into a corner, and a bookcase stood alongside. Harry smiled as he saw the bookcase, jammed full of books. He wondered for the first time whether all the Grangers were bookworms.
"This is a nice place, Mr. Granger," Harry said.
"Thank you, Harry," he replied. Emma shot him a look and he continued, "And call me Dan," he said, holding out his hand. Harry took it and shook his hand again, nervously.
"We'll give you the guided tour tomorrow, Harry," Emma told him. "As for now, I'm sure Hermione will be happy to show you where you can put your things." Emma was still smiling; Harry was sure he liked her already. He could see so many similarities between Hermione and her mother that he thought he could have picked out her as Hermione's mother, not even knowing who she was.
Harry bent down to grab the handle on one side of his trunk, expecting Hermione's dad to grab the other. Before he could, Hermione jumped down and grabbed the handle instead and they lifted the trunk as one.
"This way, Harry," Hermione said; he let her lead him to the guest bedroom where he would be staying. The door to the first bedroom on the right-hand side of the hallway was open and Hermione walked in followed by the trunk and Harry. They lowered the trunk together and sat it down at the foot of the bed. Harry looked around and saw the room looked very comfortable. A single bed and a desk took up most of the space, with a wide reading chair tucked into the corner facing the window a bookcase and a wardrobe.
"Looks great, Hermione."
"I hope you have enough room, Harry," she said.
"Compared to a fold-up bed underneath the stairs? Yeah, I'm sure I'll be able to manage," he said with a grin. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine."
"Sorry about Dad," she whispered. "Once he gets to know you --."
"What do you mean? He seems okay."
Hermione looked for Harry's expression to see if he had noticed that her father already seemed odd. Harry didn't appear to so she looked about the room and decided he would be okay. "My bedroom is first on the other side of the hall. Mum and Dad's is upstairs and the bathroom is next to you."
He nodded, taking in the instructions and smiled. "Got it! Thanks."
She smiled and said, "Goodnight. See you tomorrow," as her parents walked to her side, looking in.
"Everything okay, Harry?" Emma said.
Harry's smile indicated it was; he was sure he would be okay here. "Yes, Mrs. Granger. Everything's fine."
"Emma, Harry."
"Emma. I can't promise I wont accidentally call you Mrs. Granger, but I'll try," he said.
"Good night, Harry. I won't see you in the morning, but I'll see you tomorrow afternoon," Dan said stiffly.
"Dad plays golf," Hermione explained and Harry nodded.
"Okay, Mr. Granger. Good night."
Dan closed the door behind him and turned towards the stairs, immediately seeing the glare Hermione was giving him. He followed his wife to their bedroom and Hermione followed them both, scuttling up the stairs.
"Give him a chance, Dad!" she whispered. "Honestly, it hasn't even been ten minutes."
"I don't know what you mean," he replied, but the glare on Hermione's face didn't waver.
"Your dad is tired, dear," Emma said. "And you know he has to be up early tomorrow."
Hermione's expression softened and she nodded slightly. "Please be nice, Dad. It's important to me. Harry's a friend."
"I understand, dear," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I promise I'll be nice. Good night."
"Good night, Hermione," Emma said with a hug. "Did you have a good time?"
Hermione smiled as she replied, "Sure did. And I think Harry did too. This is going to be so much fun! Good night." Hermione left them behind, closing the door of their room. She scurried back down the stairs and made for her own room. She had her hand on the handle when the impulse took her to check on Harry again. She crept over to his room and tapped lightly on the door.
Although she had only tapped lightly, Harry's hearing these days was excellent, but maybe not as good as Remus's. "Come in," he whispered.
Hermione opened the door slowly, hoping it didn't creak and found Harry sitting on the end of the bed with a strange expression. "What's wrong?"
Harry looked up and now she saw he looked sad.
"Are you sorry you came already?" she asked incredulously.
"No, it's just --." Hermione gave him her `What?' expression and he finished. "I forgot about something."
"What?"
"It's just that I promised your parents I wouldn't use magic, and --." Harry searched for the words to finish but Hermione finished for him.
"Silencing charm?" she asked.
Harry's eyes grew large as she identified at once what it was that Harry had forgotten. Harry always believed only one other person in the world knew he cast a silencing charm every night; it wasn't her.
"Neville told you?" he asked, breathless. Harry would have bet his entire fortune that Neville would never betray his confidence.
Hermione shook her head and held his hand. "Do you remember when Neville showed you how to perform the silencing charm properly last year?" She wasn't asking, she knew.
Harry could only nod his head. He wasn't sure how she knew; he had never told anyone. It was Neville who had shown him how to perfect the charm, as well as what he had been doing wrong. "Harry," she said softly, "Neville had already come to me first. He came to me and asked me to show him, so he could show you."
For a moment she thought he was going to cry, but instead he smiled. "I should have known. Thank you, Hermione," he said and she hugged him.
"Don't mention it," she said.
"So what am I going to do?" he asked.
"Go to sleep. If you wake up and wake me up we'll deal with it together, Harry."
"A team?" he asked, repeating her words from yesterday.
"A team! Now go to sleep, I can't wait to show you around tomorrow."
"Okay. Thanks, Hermione. Good night."
"Good night, Harry."
***
It was dark when Harry woke from the midst of yet another nightmare. He sat up in near panic and found he couldn't see, a cry of fear on his lips before he could partially stifle it. He didn't know where he was or how he came to be here. He hardly even knew who he was, and was starting to hyperventilate.
He turned his head from side to side, desperately looking for any source of light in an effort to calm himself from the rising fear. There was no moon and it was so dark his eyes had nothing to focus on until he saw the dull red glow of the clock beside his bed. Don't scream, he told himself, more in hope than with any confidence. Confused, Harry didn't know what the clock was doing there; he didn't know where he was.
Don't scream! Please, anything, just don't scream. Still breathing much too quickly, his eyes began to adjust themselves to the low light and he saw Hermione a few feet away from his head. Slowly the photo frame on the desk came into view. In it he could see a fuzzy picture of Hermione, himself and Ron taken during their last year at Hogwarts. He hadn't noticed it the night before but she'd obviously placed it there to make Harry feel more at home.
Looking around he began to see more of the furniture he recognized from the night before. By instinct he remembered enough to know he usually wore glasses and reached towards the bedside table looking for them. He found them on the second or third sweep of his arm and put them on. Harry could feel he was slowly starting to reclaim the terrors, though he knew it was a close thing. Another couple of seconds of confusion and he would surely have woken everyone in the house, not to mention the neighbours on both sides and possibly the rest of the street.
His head began to throb and he covered his eyes with his hands. He felt so alone, so scared, so unsure of anything anymore; he began to sob quietly. No, no, no, he thought, when does it end? When does it stop hurting? What will it take to be finally free from the pain, and the nightmares?
He forced himself to keep as quiet as possible, but while the sobbing became quieter, the tears flowed as if to make up for the diminishing noise. Harry cried, alone, for what he later thought must have been ten to fifteen minutes. Amazingly, he had been able to keep his pain to himself yet one more time. Until the next nightmare, the next time he would be forced to hear that evil laugh, and watch as one or more of his friends' dead body lay before him. How many more times?
He was always powerless to act; sometimes it was his parents dying in front of his eyes, sometimes Sirius or Cedric. For the past week it had been the image of his mother screaming at him to return to Hogwarts. Tonight it had been Hermione dying before him. All he could do was watch... watch as she fell to the ground, dead... lost to him forever.
Wiping his eyes clear with one arm, he used his other hand to draw back the bed sheets and light blanket. He swung his feet out from the bed to fall softly on the floor. He turned to the clock and inwardly grimaced when he saw that it was telling him it was only two forty-four; he'd been asleep (if you could call it sleep) for a little under three hours. He'd half-hoped that by some magic he would have had a peaceful night's sleep merely for the fact of being in Hermione's home. But the realization struck him like a blow across the face that he may NEVER sleep peacefully again.
What the hell did I do? Harry asked himself. Who the hell did I piss off so royally that I can't even sleep properly anymore? Oh yes, him! I forgot. This drew a wry grin as he realized he must really be cracking up to have forgotten Voldemort. I wouldn't be surprised to hear he sleeps like a baby every single night while here I am with a terminal case of the screaming heebies.
Hermione was sleeping, just a few feet away on the other side of the hall; he quickly imagined her to be sleeping peacefully, no doubt with a smile.
He remembered back to last night as he watched as Bill and Fleur danced together. He couldn't take his eyes off them as he knew they were MEANT to be together. He silently hoped that some magic would allow that ALL his friends could all be as happy as Fleur and Bill. It seemed however that happiness for himself was an impossibility.
He sighed deeply and stood. Creeping to the door he silently hoped the hinges wouldn't creak. Opening the door just enough to slip through, he turned left and proceeded softly to the kitchen. He wasn't sure what it was he was going to do there, but at least he would be a little further from Hermione's room. Her parents upstairs were even farther away and so he hoped he should be able to at least walk around without disturbing them.
Harry entered the large kitchen, and stopped long enough for his eyes to gather enough light as he looked around, seeing the table in the centre of the room. He wondered which seat belonged to each of the Grangers so he would be sure he wouldn't be taking one of their spots. He then thought that at this time of the morning it probably didn't matter. As long as he could sit quietly and not wake anyone up. Sitting at the chair closest to him, he covered his eyes with one hand. He was tired, and miserable.
Movement by his feet caught his attention as Crookshanks rubbed against his feet. Sorry, pal, Harry thought. I didn't mean to wake you up. Harry bent over and lifted the half-Kneazle. Setting him on his lap, and he began to scratch his head. Crookshanks responded by settling into Harry's lap and was asleep again within a few minutes. "Way to go, Crookshanks", Harry scolded softly. "You sleep for the both of us."
"Harry?" asked Hermione, standing at the doorway of the kitchen. "Are you okay?" She was wearing a soft, pink nightgown, and even though it was dark outside he could see the shape of her body. What little light there was reflected by her white legs; he followed the sight of those legs up to her... He forced himself to look away, to look at her face. Her beautiful face, that smile, those inviting lips, that slender neck leading to her warm shoulders. Her shoulders, her... her....
"Hermione!" Harry quickly spoke back. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. I --."
Hermione had taken several strides to be at his side. She put an arm around his shoulder and drew him towards her body as if to protect him from whatever he had spent a few brief hours of sleep fighting against. "It's all right, I'm here, Harry," she said as Crookshanks slipped off his lap and proceeded back to Hermione's bedroom.
"I'm sorry," he said again.
"Don't be," she replied, and pulled him even closer to her. Harry was sorry he had woken her up, but he was not at all sorry that their bodies were so close together. He tried to say something but instead he started crying again. Hermione had both arms around him now and he was sobbing against her shoulder. "It's all right, it's all right, I'm here," she whispered. Her mouth was so close to his ear he could feel her breath against his cheek.
After a few minutes the crying started to subside and Harry turned his head toward her, surprised to see her face holding a comforting smile. He thought that odd. Here he was, barely hanging on, sitting in her kitchen wearing only his pyjamas, tears flowing so freely they may never stop, and there she was before him, smiling and looking beautiful. She reached out to his face with her soft hands. As she touched him, he felt warmth begin to burn in his cheeks.
"I'm sorry --," he began again.
"Don't be," she said again. She tilted his face slightly to his and slowly moved her own closer to his. He thought she was going to kiss him.
"Harry?" Hermione said in a surprised tone, from the doorway of the kitchen.
Harry woke immediately and saw that he was still sitting at the table with Crookshanks still asleep on his lap. Where it was pitch dark only a heartbeat before, now it was light, about dawn. He looked around confused, totally disoriented again, and then looked back to Hermione.
"Harry, are you all right?" she asked, looking worried. He nodded weakly back to her, not able to speak even a simple `yes.'
Hermione's face instantly changed from the initial surprise of seeing him sitting at the kitchen table at this early hour to the worried look he had seen so many times. "You're not all right, Harry," she told him as she quickly came to him. She placed both arms around him, hugging him tightly to her; again he began to cry. This time it was no dream, or a dream within a dream. This time it was real and he cried inconsolably against her shoulder as hugged him tighter and tighter to her body. Seeing the distraught state he was in, Hermione began crying almost as in response to his tears, and this only made him cry more.
They wept together, sharing the pain for a minute when Harry felt a hand softly rest upon his shoulder. Looking up though the tears, he saw Emma was in the kitchen bending down towards him. She must have just woken, no doubt by the sound of their crying and had hurried to be with them. Emma's face was lined with such sadness that Harry almost couldn't bear it.
What should have been the start of a wonderful day for Harry, exploring Hermione's home and neighbourhood, had instead become a morning filled with despair. Emma reached around and hugged Hermione and Harry together, the comforting hug only a mother could give... the mother's hug Harry had never felt before. From the doorway Dan looked on, already dressed, looking confused, but Harry saw him before he stepped back from his view.
"We are here for you, Harry," she said. "All of us are here to do whatever it takes to make you feel better."
"Yes, Harry," Hermione responded. "Please let us help."
*****
Two hours later Harry, Hermione, and Emma were sitting at the kitchen table, all having had showered and dressed. They made small talk before the remains of breakfast. Harry had managed to eat a little, perhaps slightly more than he had for the last few months, and he smiled as he knew Emma had watched him eat. He knew she would be watching his appetite closely. And so he ate, hoping to allay at least that concern. Hell, he thought, if it keeps the nightmares away I'll start eating like Ron.
At the thought of shovelling a mountain of food away each meal, he let out a slight laugh and noticed Hermione and Emma looking at him, smiling.
"What's so funny?" Hermione asked.
"I was just thinking how different this breakfast would be if it were Ron sitting here instead of me," Harry replied.
"Why is that?" asked Emma, glad to see they were having a genuine conversation.
"Well, for one," Hermione began, "you would still be cooking and Ron would still be here eating."
"And for two," Harry finished, "he'd be eyeing Crookshanks' bowl to see if there was anything there he could eat as well."
They laughed at the joke and Emma turned to Hermione. "Is he really that bad?" she asked
"Honestly, Mum," she said smiling broadly, "some of us think half the house-elves are assigned purely to preparing Ron Weasley's meals. I have no idea how he can manage to eat as much as he does."
"She's right, Mrs. Grainger," Harry added, "I mean Emma. In Gryffindor, we eat twice as fast as the other houses because if you are too slow, Ron is likely to eat everything on the table."
"And that doesn't include his mid-meal snacks," Hermione quipped, laughing.
"Or his mid-mid-meal snacks," said Harry.
***
"Dad's study," Hermione said, opening the door. Harry nodded, quickly taking in the large desk, filing cabinets, and bookshelf against the wall. What looked to be a chessboard was on a table near the window. Each room in Hermione's home, it seemed, had more bookcases than the entire Dursley household. She closed the door and walked to the next room.
"Mum's study," she said. Harry started to take in this room as well but Hermione closed the door before he could see anything other than the desk. "You'll be seeing this one later today so don't worry about missing anything," she told him cheekily. Seeing his questioning look she laughed and explained, "This is where Mum has her sessions."
"Sessions?"
"Talks to her patients, though she doesn't see many at home."
"Am I a patient?" he asked.
"No, silly. But she said she'll have a talk with you later about... things, and this is where she normally does it."
Harry nodded again, looking at the now closed door and turned to Hermione.
"Hermione, I thought I was here for YOUR benefit," he told her.
"You are," she said smiling.
"Moral support," Harry said. Hermione now wore the same questioning look he did only seconds before, so he explained. "Ginny told me," he said.
Now it was Hermione's turn to nod in understanding.
"That's all she said, just `moral support,'" he finished.
"And I can't thank you enough, Harry. Just you being here is going to help."
"So you aren't telling me any more just yet?"
"I can't. Maybe later, but I can't make any promises."
He smiled. It no longer mattered to him what he was doing here. If Hermione needed moral support he would do whatever he could.
"You don't have to talk to Mum, Harry. It's just that --."
"Are you kidding? I felt a little better after talking to her yesterday, and that was just a couple of minutes. I wish the Ministry had gotten me to talk with her instead of whoever it was THEY sent. I'm sure I wouldn't be having the nightmares I am now," he said.
Hermione paused, taking in what Harry had just told her. "You mean you've already TALKED with a counsellor?" she asked.
"I'm not sure he said he was a counsellor, but from the questions he asked I assumed he was."
"Harry, you never told me this before," she said.
"You never asked!" he replied with that grin. "And anyway, Hermione, it was no big deal. It didn't last more than ten minutes."
"TEN MINUTES?"
"About that, it might have been a little less. Why?"
"Harry, ten minutes is the length of time it would take a counsellor-a GOOD counsellor-just to say hello. Ten minutes doesn't give you time to do anything!"
"It didn't. He spent five minutes saying how important it was that I observe the proper Ministerial procedures regarding grief, then he asked a few questions, and then he was gone. It was over so fast I hardly knew what was going on." Harry looked at Hermione and thought she looked a little shocked at this unexpected information. He really had hardly given this incident a second thought, while it looked as if Hermione took it to be a sudden revelation.
"Harry, that's terrible. Does this mean that all this time --?" she asked.
"Correct Ministerial procedure. I've been trying Hermione."
Hermione grabbed Harry around the shoulders and held him tight while Harry found himself unable to understand her reaction. "Hermione, I've always known you and Ron were there for me. Always," he said hoping to allay whatever her fears were.
"And what FEELINGS have you shared with Ron?" she asked quietly.
"None! Ron doesn't talk about that sort of stuff. But Hermione, how many times at Hogwarts, after ALL the things we've been through, has anyone asked us about our feelings?" he asked.
She released him and looked him in the eyes, but no answer came to her lips.
"It's all been about magic, Hermione, not feelings." She held him again and he could feel her nodding slightly, probably in agreement.
"Dumbledore?" she asked
"Was a great help. I could talk to him. Just like I talk to you, Hermione." Hermione released him again and he could see how very sad she looked. "But you've ALWAYS been there for me, Hermione," he said, smiling. He was happy to see she was returning his smile. She kissed his cheek lightly (he wasn't expecting THAT) and took his hand, leading him off towards the back door to show him around outside.
***
Emma smiled as she watched Harry sit, waiting for him to be comfortable. She was sitting in the chair opposite him and watched as he took the opportunity to look around. A quick glance revealed nothing out of the ordinary: a desk with family pictures sitting on top and a large bookcase full of thick, hardcover books. Harry returned Emma's smile, and not for the first time she caught herself thinking what a friendly smile he had.
All the times Emma had talked with Hermione about Harry, she wondered why it was that Hermione had never indicated that she thought Harry was cute. Harry was cute, Emma thought, and that smile was most eye-catching. Perhaps Hermione just doesn't see Harry the same way, she thought. Then again, it could be that she has either never noticed or isn't ready for anything other than a friendship.
"Hermione's shown you around?" she asked.
"Yes, she showed me the pool and Sam said hello," he said.
Sam, the five-year old Golden Retriever, was bought when Dan and Emma realised how much they missed Hermione while she was at school. Emma had no doubt Sam would be friendly to Harry.
"Would it be possible for me to take Sam for a walk later," Harry asked.
Emma smiled and was reassured to hear that Harry was making himself feel at home. "That's a lovely offer, Harry, but you don't have to --," she began.
"No, I mean it, Mrs. Granger," he told her. "I'd love to. I was hoping to go for a run later and thought Sam could come along and keep me company."
"You run?"
Harry nodded his head. "I have for a while, though usually in the early morning. I'm almost always awake early," he said.
"I see," Emma said and immediately saw Harry's smile become a laugh. "What?"
Harry leant forward as if he was going to share a secret and didn't want anyone else to hear, even though there was nobody else in the study with them.
"Hermione told me you would say `I see' a lot", he said, and sat back with what she thought looked to be a cheeky grin. "I'm used to her being right."
"So are her father and I," Emma replied. After a moment's silence, the air felt heavy; Harry was still smiling and the gaze from his eyes didn't falter.
"Where would you like to start?" Emma asked.
Harry had expected the question, or one very like it. "Nightmares," he said simply.
"Really?" she asked, a little surprised. "Not afraid to jump in at the deep end?" she replied with a smile.
Harry shook his head in response; the smile was now gone from his face.
"Relax, Harry," she said helpfully.
"This is as relaxed as I get Mrs. Granger, or do I call you Doctor in here?"
Emma laughed and found herself thinking how sweet this boy was. "Emma is fine, Harry. Even my patients don't call me `Doctor.' And I've seen you more relaxed, mostly when you're around Hermione."
Harry nodded, agreeing with her observation. "You're a lot like her, Mrs. G-- Emma."
"Thank you, Harry, I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was meant as one."
Silence again.
"Nightmares," Emma began.
"You too?" Harry asked mischievously. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."
"It's a good point you raise, Harry. Everyone goes through what you are going through. Nightmares are not as uncommon as you might think."
Harry's face changed; he was not expecting to hear this. "Really? I thought it was just me."
"No, it's not just you. Practically everyone at one time or another has nightmares."
"Why?"
"That's the question. There are a few differing opinions on that. Some people feel it's a way for our subconscious to get our attention. Sometimes there is a problem or a situation we have been avoiding. Nightmares can show us what it is that is troubling us on many different levels."
"Death?" Harry asked.
"Sometimes, and probably true in your case, Harry."
"Why?"
"Well, to answer that, let's look at when yours started."
"The worst of them? Cedric," Harry said simply.
"The competition?"
Harry nodded, and was now not making eye contact.
"Why do you think that is, Harry?" she asked, keeping her voice as relaxed and comforting as possible.
Harry paused and gave the answer that had haunted him, the only answer that made sense. "He died because of me," he said sadly.
"That isn't true, Harry," Emma told him. "You couldn't have known what was going to happen when you both touched the cup."
"That doesn't bring him back," Harry said.
"No, it doesn't, Harry. But you couldn't have known the competition was a trap. Hermione told me you did everything you could to save him. You have nothing to feel guilty for."
"Except for being alive while Cedric isn't," Harry said. "Survivor guilt, I think it's called."
"Yes it is. You've been reading up on what you have been going through, Harry? That's a good sign. It shows you are taking active steps to solve some of your inner conflicts."
"Tonks told me. After Sirius died, she and I talked and she told me how she felt guilty. That was when she told me about survivor guilt."
"Talking with your friends is one of the best ways to analyse your feelings, Harry."
Harry smiled and looked up at Emma for the first time in several minutes. "Like I am now, with you I mean."
Emma paused and smiled back. "Thank you, Harry, it makes me feel good to hear you call me a friend."
"You are," he said matter-of-factly. You are spending your time to help me and to make me feel better. You said it was normal to have nightmares. Is it also normal for people to have so many?"
"No, Harry. Having many different nightmares can happen from time to time, but it isn't exactly normal. But that is not to say it will be impossible to get to the root of the problem and analyse them. If you let me, I'll be here for you. I'll help you get behind them, Harry."
"Thank you," he said. "What do we do next?"
"Well, why don't we talk a little about stress. After that we can look to see how it is that you deal with it," she said.
***
Hermione thought she had been reading while she waited for Harry, but realised she hadn't turned a page for more than ten minutes. She hoped that her mother would be able to help him, and he would by some magic return to the Harry of old... the Harry she missed so much. A glance at the clock told her they'd been in there for nearly an hour when she heard the sound of the door opening. From where she sat Hermione could see Harry walking out of the study, with a smile. He looked happy and relaxed and Hermione's heart sang. He skipped down the stairs and smiled at a beaming Hermione.
"Hedwig is here, Harry," she told him.
"Great. Thank you, Hermione. Where is she?"
"She's resting in her cage. I put it on the back porch. You have a stack of mail as well," she said, holding out several envelopes for him.
"Great," he said, and walked into his room closing the door behind him.
"Don't you want it?" she asked through the door, confused.
"Later! Run first, mail later."
She looked at the envelopes she was holding, all addressed to Harry, and agreed with him; the mail wasn't going anywhere. She looked at the closed door and decided she couldn't wait any longer. She ran up the stairs and into her mother's study. Emma, sitting at her desk writing notes, also had a smile and stood when she heard Hermione run in. Hermione nearly jumped into her mothers arms and hugged her.
"Thank you!" she said.
A/N -Like I say in my opinion too much has happened for Harry NOT to feel the darker emotions. He hurts and it shows; what he needs of course is to heal.
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