"HERMIONE!" Harry screamed, jerking away and sitting up in bed, his body covered in a light sheen of sweat. His wary green eyes swept over his room, he wasn't in Little Hangleton but his flat in London. He heard the loud sound of running feet before his door was thrown open and there in his doorway stood Hermione Jean Granger, now twenty years old and very much alive. Her toffee brown locks fell in soft curls around her worried face as she ran to him. "Harry, what's wrong?" she questioned alarmed as she climbed into his waiting arms clad in red pajama pants with snitches decorating the legs and a black tank top.
Harry shook his head and buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her vanilla scent. "You're okay, you're here," he repeated over and over, his breath coming in short pants. Hermione ran her hands through his hair and attempted to calm him with soothing words. The pair remained like this for awhile, only when Harry's breathing slowed did Hermione move her hands to his back, making slow circles. Hermione waited, for the vulnerability to was away in the memory of the nightmare. Harry breathed deeply holding Hermione so close, he could feel her heartbeat. What am I to say? Hermione, I dreamed that you died because keeping my feelings for you to myself is driving me insane, Merlin; Harry thought finally shaking off the images of the dream.
With a loud sigh, he pulled away a fraction, not meeting the caring eyes he knew were searching for his. Hermione's ministrations never ceased as she waited for him to speak. She took in the delicate scars on his shoulders, arms and upper chest. The war had been kind to him, injury wise, for those scars are all Harry's body bore physically from the war with Voldemort three years prior. Since then, he's become more open and outgoing, only times like these remind me that he's still dealing with everything, Hermione thought to herself. Still tall and lean, with the same jet-black hair that he always wore a little long to cover his scar Harry had become a professional Quidditch player. In their current position, Hermione could feel his muscles stretched with tension. C'mon Harry, talk to me, she thought finally finding his jade eyes had risen to meet hers.
"Mione," Harry said, shifting his body to lean against the headboard, Hermione moved to sit between his outstretched legs her back against his chest. She waited for him to continue, his strong arms encircled her waist and his scruffy chin came to rest atop her hair and he sighed. "It's the dream I've been having ever since the final battle. It starts off fine, but ends so badly, I fail everyone, Hermione," he fibbed quietly. It's about time he told me the truth about this dream, Hermione thought mildly. She turned her head to meet his eyes "Harry, I know that isn't what's happening in your dream. If so, it wouldn't affect you so. Is it something you don't think you can tell me? Because you can, you should know that," she stated, her voice soft but serious. Conflict filled Harry's mind, the careful façade of a smile fell from his face and he grew quiet. Can I do this? Should I? I can tell Hermione anything, time for that Gryffindor courage, Potter, Harry thought.
Hermione took one of Harry's large hands in both of her own and opened his palm to her as she waited. She trailed her petite fingers over his skin, hoping to relax him, his breath tickling her neck. Hermione had grown patient of Harry's moods and simply waited for him to come to her or speak first instead of attempting to force it out of him. "I…," came his gruff voice at her ear, "I dreamed, I've been dreaming that you died, Hermione. You and Ron went up against Voldemort's best followers; together you subdued four of them. You had just overtaken Bellatrix but Dolohov came at you from behind before Ron could do anything. You died, on the lawn," Harry trailed off, lowering his head to her shoulder. Hermione felt his arms tighten around her as she spoke soothingly, his hand still in hers. "Harry, I'm right here. I'll never leave you," she spoke quietly, her voice catching as she heard his strangled sigh. A few seconds passed and Hermione heard a low murmur from behind her that sounded a lot like "there's more." Hermione leaned against him even further and said, "Go ahead, Harry." Harry took a breath, "Ron and I were with you until…, anyway, you told Ron he was your brother and you love him, for him to treat Luna right. Then you spoke to me," he whispered softly.
He's nervous, Hermione thought before voicing aloud, "What did I say? Harry ran his free hand through his raven locks and buried his head in her hair as he spoke. His words were lost to Hermione's ears, sensing his discomfort she turned and sat on his pajama clad legs facing him. "Harry, you can tell me," she said her hands resting on his tense bare shoulders. Harry met her eyes and replied, "You told me you were in love with me." Hermione taken aback, put a hand to her mouth, Harry hung his head his mind reeling. Hermione put a finger under his chin and lifted his head until his nervous eyes met hers.