When this was previously posted at fictionalley there was a formatting error where two words were cut up and put together, This shouldn't be a problem now but please contact me if you see it here, thank you.
Harry was trying to pack the things he would need for his stay at Hermione's house. He thought that it would be easy; all needed was clothes, a few quills and his scrolls of unfinished homework.
He knew Hermione would have the books he needed to use because he had already finished his Divination work. Using his crystal ball to get an impression of the year ahead, he had written about doom, gloom and the possibility of a vicious death. Hermione was in all his other classes, and so it shouldn't be a problem.
It should have been easy, but it wasn't. His nightmare from the night before kept breaking into his mind and it took a lot of effort to ignore it and stop himself from being plunged back into the depths of grief that he had drowned in the night before.
~~
It had started out in a familiar way; he was standing in a busy street. The street was always the same, filled with people. People walking, people talking, people laughing. He wanted to scream at them all to start running and not stop because he knew what happened next; Sirius would confront Pettigrew and people would die.
Harry noticed Wormtail scurrying through the crowd trying to look in all directions at once, and then the small man spotted someone and he stopped dead, his face filled with fear. Harry followed his gaze, expecting to see the familiar form of Sirius; his eyes mad with grief and rage. But he instead of Sirius, he saw Ron. It wasn't the Ron he knew it was the man his friend would become. He didn't know how he knew that; but he did.
Before Ron could say a word Pettigrew started shouting,
"Hermione and Harry, Ron! How could you? They were your best friends you murdering traitor!" a blur of movement and both of them went for their wands; a massive explosion and as the dust settles the scene shifts.
Instead of the fire scarred street, he's now in the wreckage of a small house in the country, his home. This is where he always saw his parents; his father battered by rubble, with his mother still holding him in her lifeless arms. This time, though, the dream had changed.
Lying under the roof timbers was not his father but himself. Like just before when he had seen Ron, he saw himself as a man and not the teenager he was now. He forced himself to follow the sound of a baby's crying knowing what he should find but dreading it. He had seen this picture too often after the Dementors had come to Hogwarts, dragging up old memories.
His dream self walked into what was left of the kitchen and saw the baby in her mother's arms. Hermione's hair fanned out over the floor still not tamed by time or even now in death. Her eyes were so dull and lifeless that for a second he wished it was his mother and he hated himself for that. He looked down at the baby.
Even at only a year there was no mistaking who her parents were, Busy raven black hair framed a face who's center point were brilliant green eyes that mirrored his own. The wind picked up as he looked at his daughter, its tone changing from a howl to a hiss that seemed to scrape over every bone in his body.
"Finished gawking yet?" asked Hermione, her voice cold and filled with hate in a way that Harry had never heard it before. This was a rage born not of fire but of ice. "This is your fault, you know. You had to play the hero and now I'm dead because of it."
"I'm… I'm…I'm so sorry," stammered Harry, tears burning down his face as he finally brought himself to look at the ghost.
"Well that's alright then," the ghost's disgust was almost tangible.
"Don't you think I'd give anything to have you back?" was his anguished response. The ghost seemed unimpressed, giving a snort of disbelief, and faded away with a sneer still on her face.
~~~
Harry woke up, trapped in his memories of his nightmare when something small, round and feathery smashing into the side of his head forced him back to reality. The words "There is a way!" still echoed in his mind, but he managed to direct his attention elsewhere.
Pigwidgeon had come with Ron's reply and had obviously thought that flying into Harry's head was the best way to get his attention. Even with his attention, the tiny owl kept flying round his room, hooting happily and refusing to land so Harry could get his letter. He briefly entertained the idea of hitting Pig with a tennis racket, but since he didn't own one he forgot about the idea.
Besides he didn't want to hurt the owl because he knew that Ron truly liked the thing no matter how much he complained. Harry decided that the best way was to think of the owl as a feathery Snitch and, using his bed to get some height, just plucked him out of the air. After untying the letter he threw Pig back into the air where he hooted happily and started flying round in circles again. Harry abandoned his packing to read the letter:
Harry,
I talked to Dad and he say's it's ok. You can make potions as long as you don't use them on Muggles.
Guess what? Dad heard a rumor at work that some Aurors have gone rogue to try to find You-Know-Who. He reckons that Dumbledore got word to them because The Ministry is still saying it's rubbish and that You-Know-Who can't be back.
Also, Good news! Fred and George say that I've got a good chance of being the new Keeper. It would be great if we could play on the team together then we could really show Malfoy.
Say Hi to Hermione for me.
RON
He wanted to write back straight away, but realized he had to finish packing and he knew that the images from his dreams would slow him down. He wouldn't admit it to any one, especially Hermione, but it was seeing her suffer that had affected him most. Seeing his own battered body held no shock. He had resigned him self to dying so long ago that the prospect held little fear for him.
He supposed that said something about his mental health but he didn't dwell on it. He wanted to keep Herm… His friends safe; that's all that mattered to him. After an hour and four mental run-through of his dream, complete now with the sounds of Hermione dying, he had finished packing. All he had to do now was wait for Hermione to arrive.
The sun had decided to make one of its rare appearances today so naturally she was stuck in a car. Hermione usually didn't mind long journeys as it gave her a chance to do some reading but today she couldn't keep her mind on her book. Her focus kept wandering as she continually worried about Harry. She knew something was wrong and he wasn't telling her or Ron what it was, even though both had tried.
She had been surprised at how easily they had gotten into the habit of writing to each other every day. She had expected he would keep contact to a minimum, but they had talked so much she hoped he would open up. However, he refused to acknowledge that there was anything wrong at all, let alone talk about it. The letters from Harry had quickly became the highlight of her day but that didn't mean any thing; they were just friends.
When the car finally pulled up outside Privet Drive, Hermione stayed in the car as her mum went to get Harry. She watched her mum ring the doorbell and then talk to someone only a moment before the door was slammed in her face.
A few minutes later the door opened again and Harry was standing there, grinning, with a couple of bags. Hermione's heart leaped and a grin she was unaware of started to spread across her face. He put his bags into the boot before climbing in to the back of the car.
"I'm sorry for the Dursleys being rude it's just that…" Harry apologized slowly, but before he could finish, Hermione interrupted.
"Don't you dare apologize for them!" Hermione's tone was unpleasantly close to the one that the dream Hermione had used. She wasn't used to feeling such rage but when Harry had climbed into the car she had had a close look at him. With his black hair and bright eyes, Harry had always looked pale but now his skin was almost translucent and the dark rings around his eyes were the most telling.
Hermione knew what was wrong now; the nightmares were back. She and Ron had talked about it before and Ron had told her how he would have bouts of terrible nightmares, but they didn't last very long. This latest set must have lasted quite a while and the toll they were taking on him was obvious. The fact that the Dursleys still didn't care made her even more angry with them.
"Hermione dear you know I like you to express your opinion but is there any chance you could do it a little more quietly?" Mrs. Granger requested, a small smile on her lips.
Hermione, who hadn't realized she'd been shouting, looked a bit bashful,
"Yes mum," she said meekly, then mock-glared at Harry, "and you can wipe that smirk off your face, Harry Potter."
"Yes mum," repeated Harry, mimicking her tone of voice. This caused Harry and Mrs. Granger both to laugh out loud. Hermione sat in her seat scowling until she too started to laugh.
"It's a long trip back, so why don't you try and get some sleep, Harry? You must have been up early to pack," Mrs. Granger suggested. It seemed that she too had noticed how harried the boy looked. The tiny flash of fear that Hermione saw in Harry's eyes was enough for her to confirm that he was having nightmares.
"Thanks, but if I sleep now then I wont get any sleep tonight," Harry replied, attempting to mask his fear. Mrs. Granger seemed to accept this response, and so they drove on. They made good time on the way home and got there just as it was getting dark.
The Grangers lived in a small village a few miles from the town were Mr. and Mrs. Granger had their dental practice. Even in the rapidly fading light Harry could still make out a large garden with well cut grass and flowerbeds round the sides that were crammed full of flowers in a riot of different colors.
Harry walked in and was amazed by the house. It was like Privet Drive had collided with the Burrow. The love that seemed to hang in the air at the Burrow was here, but the chaos that was another of its trademarks was missing.
"Come on Harry I'll show you your room," Hermione grabbed his free hand and started to drag him up the stairs to the spare room. The room they entered was small but looked very comfortable and some one had put up a poster of the Irish Qudditch team from the world cup.
"What do you think? I asked Ron to send the poster; I wanted to try and make the room nicer for you," Hermione's voice shook a little with nervousness, she'd worked really hard on the surprise, and hoped it was worth it.
"It's great. But you shouldn't have gone to any trouble for me," he replied, a huge grin splitting his face.
"What trouble? You're worth it. Come on I want to show you my room," the girl grabbed his hand again and was pulling him away before she had even finished talking. As soon as he stepped into the room it was obvious whom it belonged to. Hermione's personality was stamped on the room like a second coat of paint.
All her books were on the bookcases but each shelf was crammed with books put away in a haphazard fashion. On one shelf there was a collection of things from her time at Hogwarts, a small jam jar which had once held blue flames, her omnioculars, a few gray feathers from Buckbeck, a set of needles from their first Transfiguration class along with other small souvenirs.
"Hermione, Harry come on down, the pizza's here," Mrs. Granger shouted from down stairs.
"Come on, let's eat," Hermione commanded, heading towards the stairs. As they went down, Harry noticed she still hadn't let go of his hand but he thought it would be rude to tell her that, and so he kept quiet.
His friend let go of his hand when they reached the kitchen and then seemed to leap across the room to get at one of the boxes sitting on the table. Standing in the kitchen was a man he hadn't seen but assumed was Hermione's dad.
"Hello, you must be Harry. Hermione hardly every stops talking about you," Mr. Granger commented as he shook Harry's hand. A strange look passed over the man's face, as if he were trying to figure something out.
"DAD!" yelled Hermione. By this point, she was turning a bright red and trying to hide her face behind her hair. The sounds of laughter filled the room and on into the night as the Granger family made him feel welcome.
Harry had only felt like this before when he spent time with the Weasleys, the other family that had made him welcome with no hint of disapproval or contempt. It was these times when Harry missed his parents the most; when he experienced what he had lost when Voldemort had killed them. He would give up anything to have them back, but, as he knew, death was a door that could never be closed once opened.
The moon shone through the window. It was after midnight and he still hadn't fallen a sleep. Hedwig had found him before he went to bed and was now out hunting. The fear of the nightmares was tiny now compared to the fear of Hermione finding out about them; she seemed so happy and relaxed. He didn't want her to worry or to get upset because that was a pain that he couldn't handle. As he lay there thinking of Hermione, he slowly drifted off to sleep.
~~~
He was standing in the maze that had been grown for the Triwizard cup. The Sphinx stood in front of him and started to tell him her riddle, and he answered without even thinking about saying the words. He walked on expecting to see Cedric being attacked by the spider, but instead he saw Hermione running towards the cup. The spider then attacked and his vision rippled.
He was standing in front of the cup, his leg hurt, telling Hermione to take the cup. The words were leaving his mouth but he didn't want to speak them. He kept wanting to tell her to run he wanted to grab the cup before her and keep her safe but before he could touch it, she did and disappeared.
It only took him minutes to get out of the maze after sending up red sparks but it felt like days. It was barely a half hour later when she returned dead with a note attached to her chest:
Dear Harry
I Have returned from the hell that you sent me to. Her death should have been yours, the blood is on your hands.
The note was signed with the Dark Mark.
~~~
He woke up shaking all over, and once more the voice hissed in his ears like wind
"Your life can sssave hersss."
A noise made him look up. Standing in the doorway was Hermione, her face white with fear.