Through His Eyes

ISEanity558

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 17/06/2012
Last Updated: 02/07/2012
Status: in_progress

Hermione needs to understand what's going on with Harry. With a little research she mixes up a potion to see through Harry's eyes. Set during Year 5.

Chapters

1. In His Eyes

2. In His Dreams

3. In Her Absence

1. In His Eyes

Chapter 1: In His Eyes

Hermione stirred the last remaining ingredient into the cauldron and watched as the potion she brewed turned from a burnt orange color to a deep purple slowly. According to the text and her careful calculations the potion was ready.

She bit her lip torn debating on drinking it. She had spent the last of her allowance money on the ingredients during the trip to Hogsmead last weekend and went through all the trouble to avoid the questions as to what she needed them for from the shopkeeper. But despite her hesitance, she had already brewed it, and instinctively she knew that she had already made up her mind to go through with it anyhow. She nodded her head filling the liquid into a tiny vial for her to drink. Quickly she packed up all her stuff and hurried back to the common room away from the privacy of the girls bathroom and Moaning Myrtle's constant nagging and asking her what she's brewing this time. The ghost had hovered the whole time, reading over her shoulder, making a clicking noise when she realized what Hermione was brewing. "A very complicated one this time girl, what do you need that one for?" She ignored her questions, and tried not to rush through it, knowing that the slightest error would ruin the whole potion. She was glad to leave, and her heart pounded in her chest as she made her way to the common room as she thought of what this potion would do, and what it would mean to her and Harry.

She knew that it was an invasion of privacy, that it was wrong of her to research the potion to begin with, and that if Harry found out, she was endanger of ruining their friendship forever. It was a huge risk, and many things could go wrong. The very thought seemed to scream disloyalty, but she knew it had to be done. Seeing the look on his face, the sadness, the distance between him and everyone else, she just needed to understand. He said it himself.

"You don't understand Hermione," he said in a sad tired tone the last time she had talked to him.

"Then help me understand, please Harry," she said desperately and touched his arm.

He pulled away quickly and looked away. "I can't," he said, his tone breaking her heart as she watched him walk away.

He looked helpless, heart broken, and she knew that was the second that he closed himself off to everyone else. . . Especially to her, she realized with a twinge of hurt.

She did understand a lot of things. She understood that he went through something traumatic last year. Seeing Cedric die right in front of his eyes as he watched helplessly knowing he couldn't do anything about it. She understood that his fellow schoolmates didn't believe him when he said the Dark Lord has returned and that everything he knew and loved about Hogwarts had been turned upside down. Especially with that toad Umbridge running around dictating everything. She had heard the whispering, all the horrible things people were saying, and the stares, and the glares, and the way people avoided him.

What she didn't understand is why he pushed her and Ron away. Ron had defended him numerous times, even threatened people out of anger, and she had never once wavered from his side. He was Harry after all, and she couldn't imagine not being able to help him, be there with him through thick and through thin, no matter what dangers they might face.

Until now. He had been deliberately avoiding them. What hurt her the most it seemed like he was avoiding her even more than Ron. Ron had told her the that he had talked to Harry a few times, asking if he was okay, and that although it may have been brief, he wasn't unresponsive like he was to her. She spent all of last week looking for him, following around to see if he was okay, or stubbornly asking him to join them for dinner.

She felt desperate. Needy even. She missed him greatly. It hurt seeing him in the halls and turning quickly to avoid her. Him not eating meals the same time he usually does with her and Ron. Him not even glancing her way in class.

He had been avoiding them for going on two weeks now, and the distance between them was growing faster leaving a void in the pit of her stomach and a hole in her heart. She missed him so much. And in one last attempt she came up with a plan. She didn't want to give up on Harry. She cared for him too much. She went through a lot with him already. And she had helplessly fallen in love with him long ago, and held it inside, letting no one know because she didn't want to jeopardize their friendship.

So she wanted to understand. She needed to understand. Maybe if she understood she'd be able to help him, and to guide him through this. To comfort him, to sympathize with him, to be there for him. She just needed to understand.

So she did what she knew best. She researched. Her search started off blindly, not knowing where to start, but she worked diligently for the past two days looking for a solution. With a moment of serendipity she stumbled across a rather complicated potion. It is designed to see the world through the eyes of whomever the person who drinks it wishes. If she brewed it right, she should be able to walk in Harry's shoes in a sense. If correctly brewed the potion would allow her to momentarily see what he saw, feel what he felt, and hear his inner thoughts.

It was an invasion of privacy she knew, but she needed this. Right now Harry was like a book she couldn't decipher, and she was determined to find the answers. Harry needed this she told herself. She looked at the vial of thick purple liquid in her hand with a newfound determination and downed the potion in one gulp.

Nothing happened at first, but then suddenly, almost dramatically sudden she felt a pulse of magic run through her veins, felt her eyes shutting, and her body going limp before her head hit the pillow on the couch in the common room she had been sitting in.

She was floating, or at least that's what she felt like. Images of the castle flew past her as she weaved through the halls going left, right, front, back, as if searching. It was a dizzying experience, to be looking around without her body carrying her underneath her. It was truly an out of body experience, an odd sense of what she saw around and not being connected with it all.

Not her body, but her mind, or rather her soul was in search for Harry. She was getting close, she could feel the buzz of magical energy that told her so, and within seconds it was confirmed when she turned the corner and saw him, the back of him with his head down, mumbling to himself, and the motion of her floating sped up until she was right behind him. There was a pause, and then a jolt of movement as if to step right through him, but she didn't. Instead she melted into him, and if she could gasp she would have. Instead she felt a wave of surprise, and to her amazement, it wasn't what she felt, but rather Harry felt it.

She watched the world around her as he blinked, his vision going blurry at first, before returning as normal. Hermione noted with a confused realization that things looked different from his eyes. The coloring seemed to be shade darker than she knew, the detail finer tuned. His familiarity with this castle was different somehow, viewed different, and his feelings for it was unlike what she felt.

Academically, she wondered if everyone saw and sensed different things, according to how differently people's brains were wired but she pushed the thought aside as she was overcome with the sense of emotions she felt from Harry. She could feel his heart pounding, watched as his eyes searched around, and the acknowledgement of something magical happening but no evidence around him to place was it was. He shook his head and tried to brush it off.

"It's Hogwarts, magic is all around us here," she heard him think to himself as he continued on his walk through the halls. He was heading to the Great Hall for a late supper. His stomach gave a growl of urgency to hurry, and she/he glanced down at his watch. It was almost after hours, and he had to head to the common room soon. He had waited, she realized to eat dinner late, so he wouldn't run into other students (which include her and Ron), and instead preferred to eat by himself.

She wondered briefly where he had been all this time while other students ate their supper, but feeling the coolness of his skin, the dampness from drying sweat, the slowly fading adrenaline running through him she guessed that he had been in the Quidditch pitch practicing, flying like a mad man, floating as high as he could go, like she knew he often did when he wanted to be alone. She had watched him a few nights over the years through her window in the girls Gryffindor dormitory room that was a perfect view of the Quidditch pitch, and was amazed at how fast he flew when he thought no one was looking. It was his stress relief, and completely opposite of hers which involved a nice quiet place and a good book to read.

He entered the Great Hall, it was quiet for the most part, but the few remaining students watched him the second he made an appearance and made his way to their normal spot on the dinner table.

She felt a wave of annoyance as he heard the whispering start up and noticed the inevitable staring. It started in his gut and bubbled into anger rather annoyance as he spotted Malfoy loitering in the Syltherin section with his goons. Harry sat with his back to them but didn't miss the infuriating smug look that Malfoy gave him before calling out, "where are your friends Potter? Did they finally realize you're not worth it anymore?"

She felt Harry talk a deep calming breath and felt his hands clenching and unclenching into fist as his inner battle to stay calm raged inside of him. She watched as his mind visualized Ron's and her face smiling at him before a wave of sadness and loneliness hit him hard as his meal materialized before him. He ignored the plate at first as his stomach gave a growl of protest and lingered on the thought of her face, the feeling of her arms around him a few months ago when they met up with him at the Burrow. She felt hit by a wave of emotions as he thought of her. She watched as he reached over running his hand over the spot on the table where she usually sat and he visualized her looking up from a book and giving him a smile.

She felt his heart speed up as he remembered the feeling of joy and relief as she hugged him that summer, remembered the smell of her hair, the feeling of her face buried in his neck. She hadn't meant to linger in the hug for that long, nor push the platonic boundaries and cling closer to him. But she missed him, and seeing him after a couple months of no communication was relief like rain from a long drought. Apparently he enjoyed it, as she felt warmth spread through his chest at the memory. She became aware that these were his private thoughts, that she knew she wasn't supposed to know, and it confused her as to what it all meant.

He had never given her an inkling of thought that he felt that way about her, and he never looked at her differently, not like he did with Cho last year.

The happy memory that he lingered on now was clouded by a sense of remorse, or regret, of. . . longing she realized with amazement. She never in her wildest dreams would imagine him to think of her this way, and Merlin knew, she only wished and hoped that he would for quite some time now. But she could sense his confliction, and clearly these feelings that they felt were not turning out the way either had wanted.

To her dismay she felt him give the thoughts of her a mental push away and think, "she my best friend," to himself. "Or was," she heard him think as another wave of sadness hit him as he finally started eating, the feeling that his appetite had vanished running through her.

She listened, as his mind was a jumbled web of thoughts as he pushed his meal around with his fork hardly eating it.

They don't understand.

Maybe it's for the best.

If Voldemort has returned, maybe staying away from them will protect them.

I can't be so dependent on them.

I can't be so dependent on her.

I miss her.

I want her.

I can't have her.

I'm in love with my best friend.

If she could gasp she would. Her emotions mixed with Harry's. Confusion. Hurt. Want. Need.

He finally gave up on dinner and with growing anticipation she realized he was headed back to the common room. He would find her there, appearing as though asleep on the couch. Would he walk right past her? Would he wake her up? Did he still care enough to wake her up to go up to her dormitory?

He told the Fat Lady the password and made his way inside. She felt his movement come to a halt and his stomach give a flutter. His eyes roamed the room and stopped. With a startling realization she felt as though he sensed her there before he even spotted her, and felt his legs move as if on autopilot toward her unconscious form.

She stared through his eyes at herself in awe. She looked down at herself as if not recognizing that it was herself, because through his eyes it was as if she appeared marginally different from what she saw every time she looked in the mirror. Through his eyes, and the feelings she felt burst though him, she felt beautiful. Her face was relaxed, a ghost of a smile on her lips as he neared, deep breaths taken as his eyes lingered on her chest. His vision blinked as if to snap out of it and his eyes made their way back to her face, pausing at her neck, focusing on a freckle that she hardly ever noticed on herself and felt his hand move as if it's own accord as if to touch it, and she waited longingly for him to do so.

His hand hovered and she felt his finger barely graze her neck, before he looked at her face again and pulled his hand away. He focused on her lips, and she felt his longing to kiss her, sending a thrill of excitement through her, and she wished she would break out of this spell the potion had put her in, and wake up.

"Hermione," he whispered gently nudging her to wake her up.

Nothing happened so he tried again this time saying her name louder and shook her gently at her shoulder his fingers moving to brush the hair out of her face. Still nothing and she felt him grow concerned.

"Hermione wake up," he said shaking her a little harder. She felt the images around her spin in a dizzying circle, and the last beat of Harry's heart as it pounded harder in his chest and knew she was being separated from him. She felt as though she was being sucked through a tightly squeezed tunnel, and everything fade to black as she floated back into herself.

She blinked drowsily slowly coming to. She could feel Harry shaking her frantically to wake up and faintly hear him say her name as if in panic.

"Blimey Hermione! You scared the living day lights out of me!" he said taking a deep calming breath when she finally opened her eyes. "I've been trying to wake you for the past ten minutes. I thought something bad happened to you," he said in a rush.

She just stared up at him a smile slowly forming on her face. He stared back confused. "Are you alright?" he asked.

For once she was speechless, as a blushed spread through her cheeks all the way down to her neck. He loved her, she was sure of it now, and she didn't know what to do. She slowly reached up and caressed his cheek. "I've missed you," she breathed out softly.

His eyes softened momentarily but confusion etched his face and he suddenly pulled away from her hand as if he had been burned. "You should head up to your dormitory," he mumbled, "it's getting late."

"I don't want to," she said stubbornly and touched his hand. He looked torn land looked away, anywhere but her eyes, and she could feel the distant pull of longing from him from the lingering effects of the potion.

"Harry, look at me. Please," she said. When he finally looked she felt a wave of her own courage spread through her, her true Gryffindor making itself known, as she slowly sat up and moved in to kiss him.

He looked startled; she could feel his heart pounding in his chest, as she drew closer. He suddenly pulled away. "What are you doing?" he blurted out.

"I want to kiss you," she said simply, trying to push away the hurt she felt at the rejection. "Don't you want me to?" she asked knowing the answer.

But what he said was opposite from the truth she had known.

"No," he said and got up practically running towards the boys dormitory.

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2. In His Dreams

A/N: I work like crazy so my updates may be rare from this point out. But I'm almost done with Chapter 3 just waiting for it to be edited. Should have it out by the end of the week *fingers crossed* Part 4 is partially written and should be the last installment. Big thanks to my beta reader Chuffi4Harmony! Any errors or typos that were missed are mine not hers. Thanks to all who read and reviewed for this story and for “Private Escape”. You guys really do inspire me to continue writing.

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Chapter 2: In His Dreams

Hermione had stayed up the rest of the night after Harry had left her in the common room confused in his wake. She felt rejected, hurt and embarrassed of her actions. All she could do was toss and turn recounting the past few hours in her mind. She cried, hating her own weakness, and willed herself to stop. Loving Harry had always been an inner struggle, but knowing he loved her back and not wanting anything to happen from it left a gaping hole her chest. She never felt this kind of heartbreak before and she didn't know how to handle it.

To pass time she read, going over the text regarding the potion over and over again to see if she had done it wrong. Clearly she had. She heard his thoughts, and felt his emotions telling her one thing, but his actions spoke another. His rejection for her had been quick and without second thought.

But she came to the conclusion that everything went the way it was supposed to, and Harry confused her now more than ever. She found the potion to help understand Harry, but the end result made her think that maybe she shouldn't have drank the potion in the first place and pried into the innermost parts of Harry's heart and mind. All she wanted to do was help, to feel closer to him, to be the one to push him out of the state of mind that he was stuck in right now. If anything, it put even more distance between them, and enough for her to wonder if it would ever be the same way again. She felt guilty and scared that maybe it had ruined their friendship forever.

It would have been easier to be blissfully unaware of his feelings, trapped in her own anguish of unrequited love. She would rather battle with herself everyday just accepting the role of being his best friend than feel this hurt from his rejection when it didn't make sense to her at all.

According to the text there would be lingering effects of the potion. The effects would happen at random, the connection not as strong as the first hour of taking it, but enough to feel really strong emotions, hear whisperings of thoughts, and quick flashes of visions or memories. The connection would only be broken after two weeks after the residual remains of the potion had been completely cleared from her body. The evidence was of this was clear after Hermione had fallen asleep that night and dreamt Harry's dreams.

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Apparently Harry dreamed in color.

His dreams were startling real, true in imagery, and remarkably vivid. Like his current state of mind, the dreams his brain conjured up in his sleep were jumbled, jumping back and forth as if indecisive.

At first, the dreams started off as a rush of images, snippets of last year during the TriWizard Tournament, lingering briefly on the traumatic visions of Cedric dying, and the fear and loathing of Voldemort himself.

But despite her own fears running through her when she saw the images of Voldemort through Harry's mind for the first time, she quickly came to realize that the Dark Lord was not what haunted Harry in his sleep.

It was her.

She could feel the confliction of emotions that he ran through him in his sleep at the foreshadowing thought of her. The horrific vision of Voldemort ran through his brain again, and the flash of green light associated with Cedric Diggery's death played over. The moment when he finally teleported back through the portkey repeated itself in his mind, with him hunched over crying and clutching the body closely. The body was not that of Cedric's but of her, frozen and dead in his arms. Dark shadows of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named made itself shown, and Voldemort's terrifying triumphant laugh that sang through Harry's mind was not as loud as his own voice telling himself the be more cautious, to not fall too hard, and that he couldn't have her in order to protect her.

Despite his turmoil, his brain sorted out that this was only a dream, and let itself flow into happier thoughts of him and her as if it couldn't help itself. With a sudden jolt it flashed to the image of them laughing together in the common room. Then jumped to a memory of the younger version of her running toward him and hugging him with a huge smile on her face. To her sitting close to him while they studied with her leaning over his shoulder to see his paper work and correcting him along the way.

A tidal wave of memories and emotions swirled around in his brain; all in which focused on her and only her. Countless images flashed around her circling in a whirlwind of moments that she herself barely remembered. Yet clearly they were important enough to him since they were replaying in his dreams and leaking into his unconscious state of mind.

She saw herself at different stages of their time at Hogwarts. From the first year with her bushy out of control hair and her arrogant `know-it-all' persona introducing herself on the train; to every time he played a Quidditch match with her there to cheer him on regardless of the fact that she did not enjoy the game; to a flash of them riding on the back of Buckbeak during their third year with her arms tightly wrapped around him fearfully and her face buried into his neck; and lingered on the moment he stared at her in awe as she made an appearance at the Yule Ball and down the staircase into his view.

He made her look beautiful, feel beautiful, with all the overwhelming emotions and images of her flashing through his mind. But his dreams took a sudden detour, and focused on snippets that clearly weren't from reality as she wished they would be. Before her eyes she saw an image of him running his hand through her wavy long hair to finally settle at the curve of her neck. To him kissing a freckle on her neck. To him snogging her senselessly.

There was another jolt and the images ran backward quickly as if in rewind like his brain wanted to replay the moments leading up to this. The dream started to take on more of plot as a scene played out before her. It was as if his previously indecisive unconscious state of mind had decided what it wanted to focus on, and knew which direction it wanted to go. The imagery blurred and refocused, and Hermione recognized the moment that lay before her.

It was their second day back after the summer break and they we're sitting in her favorite spot in the library working on the assignment Professor Binn's had given them that day. It was all the way in the back, tucked in the corner, where most students never went, nor did they even know about. Madam Prince seldom went to this corner of the library knowing the books were hardly touched, never checked out, and when she did pop in every once and a while she merely nodded in their direction and left them to study. It was quiet and Hermione liked to think of it as her secret place where she went when she wanted to be alone. Only her, Ron, and Harry really knew about it, but Ron never really went back there with them, not finding any desire to go deeper into the library than he needed to.

It was an unusually hot day. With magical advantages, Hogwarts was usually a comfortable room temperature year round yet this section in the library was so desolate, and far from any windows that the air around them was stagnant and humid.

Despite the stifling heat Harry found refuge with being alone with her even if it was just to study. It had been a long tiring day. The whispering seemed to be out of control today, and resentment that a lot of his fellow classmates had toward him had progressed to confrontations that he was not prepared to face and it was all just too overwhelming.

He found solace in her company. She the one person he could rely on to not judge him, and he was eternally grateful for it. Sure Ron had trusted him and believed him about what had happened last year during the TriWizard tournament, but Hermione had never let her jealousy cloud her judgment, nor let the misconceptions about his fame taint her loyalty towards him. Her faith in him never wavered, and although Ron continued to assure him that things will get better and that he will stick by his side no matter what, being with Hermione comforted him more than anything else at the moment.

They sat in comfortable silence, and for the life of him he couldn't concentrate on the assignment that he knew had to be done. He had only completed one sentence before he looked up at her, and he felt trapped. He was overcome with a startling realization to how beautiful she looked, how much he desired for her, and how much he wanted her. It was such a powerful emotion that he couldn't breathe and he knew that it wasn't due to the humidity around him that felt thick enough to cut with a knife. Admittedly, it hadn't been the first time he felt this way about her, but this was the first time he allowed himself to dwell on the thought of her this way.

She was in her element. Her quill flew across the parchment in rapid flowing movements and she only paused to glance at the textbook that lay across from her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and she was biting her lip in the way he found adorable when she concentrated. The evidence of the late August heat was visible by the flush of her cheeks and the sweat that was forming at the bridge of freckled nose. Like him, her robe was hanging over the chair next to her, along with her tie, and she had her sleeves rolled up trying to find relief from the heaviness of their uniform. She had a few buttons of her blouse undone, and he leaned closer as if he couldn't help himself wanting badly to glace down her shirt.

He blamed it on his adolescent hormones. This was Hermione after all, his best friend, whom if had known his intentions would hex him into oblivion. Most of the time he could control his teenage urges because he prided himself as being chivalrous and respectful of the opposite sex, but Hermione was so unguarded at the moment, oblivious to the world and not her in her normal attentive and conservative state that it was too tempting not to take a quick glance.

She could sense his stare and glanced up at him and he averted his gaze quickly. “This is not the kind of assignment you can copy off of me you know,” she said teasingly and smiled.

The teasing smile on her face only made him want her even more and Hermione was reminded that this was only a dream as images of him kissing her without abandon and pushing their study tools off of the table in a mad rush to let his teenage hormones take control flashed quickly. It was only but a second that his mind let it wander down that path but enough to know that the memory of that day must have taken a lot of self restrain on his part.

The imagery of his adolescent impulses vanished as if being erased for a clean slate and the voice of his own thoughts rang loud and clear in the dream.

This is Hermione.

My best friend.

The most loyal person that I've ever known.

The one person that without I probably wouldn't be alive today.

She deserves better than to rush into anything.

She deserves to be taken care of.

And I want to give that to her.

I've never felt this way about anyone before.

I am truly, madly, in love with her . . .

And with a startling realization Hermione deducted that this was the exact moment that Harry Potter fell in love with her. It was such a mundane moment. The moment ordinary in comparison to other memories and adventures that she shared with him. Yet the fact that it was such a simple moment made her heart swell because all it took was a single instant with them alone, with them being themselves in comfortable companionship that made him realize that he loved her. It made her recognize that he loved her solely for being who she was, and more importantly who she was to him. It was in that simple second with them tucked away in their own world in the back of the library that their friendship had been pushed past the normal boundaries all in it's own accord. After all, their relationship had always been teetering on the edge of the cliff between platonic and not so platonic boundaries and there really wasn't a need for something colossal to push both of them past what would be considered normal for friends.

She remembered the moment clearly, yet Harry reminded her through his dream what happened next. He leaned over and touched her hand softly making her look up again, breaking her concentration as she felt the jolt of electricity from his touch. She remembered it felt different than any other touch he had given her, and she extended her hand and opened her palm to him to take his hand.

He said nothing, and accepted taking her hand entwining their fingers together with a nervous smile on his face and she watched as he flushed and looked down at his parchment. She recalled how young he looked, despite the fact that he had grown into a man before her eyes. His hair was awry and his green eyes shown bright like the day they arrived at Hogwarts. She knew the look, because she wore it herself that day, and probably in that exact moment along with him that day in the library. She knew that this was the last time she was able to read the look in his eyes and she saw it clearly as they were filled with a sense of awe that something monumental would happen in the near future, that something magical was happening, and it would change their lives forever.

Nothing else happened after that, it was just a private, special moment that happened between them, and they silently continued to study, not willing to let the moment pass, nor let go of one another's hand.

She watched as the images swirled around her and fade as she felt the familiar pull of her being swept away from the connection and everything faded to black.

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Hermione woke with a startled gasp due to the magical pulse that ran strongly through her. She was left with a stronger ache in her chest than what she felt before she had fallen asleep and she felt a mad impulse to go to Harry.

The notion was quickly dropped as she heard the familiar unlady-like snores from Lavender Brown's bed, and glanced out the window. It was still dark, and she knew she and Harry were probably the only ones awake at this hour.

So did all she could do, and stared up at the silk red canopy of her bedpost, and dwelled on that moment in that dream. She wondered what happened and restlessly ran it over in her mind. She could envision Harry doing them same, and a wave of anger ran through her.

Why was he acting like such a prat? She couldn't understand it for the life of her. That was Ron's job after all. The memory of them in the library was such a special moment, and things could have been so different after that. They could have been together by now, she would be there to comfort him though everything, and yet Hermione knew that after that moment was when he started to push her away.

Nothing confused her more than Harry James Potter right now.

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Harry woke to an odd tingle of magic course through him. It was the same as he felt before this afternoon walking toward the common room. Something was going on, and he needed to get to the bottom of it all.

He sat up quickly to investigate, but stopped when he looked out the window. From the placement of the moon and the shade of nightfall he guessed that it was probably only three in the morning and no one was awake at this hour but him. He woke from nightmares countless times enough to figure out what time it was without a watch by now, and he knew better than to roam the halls at this hour.

So he did all he could do and stared up at the deep red canopy of his bedpost and contemplated his dream. His dreams of Hermione tormented almost as much as dreams of Voldemort did these days; the emotional pain hurting as violently as the physical pain of his scar when the Dark Lord made his way into his dreams at night.

It was that night after their moment in library that Voldemort opened a connection that was stronger than anything he ever felt before in his dreams. He could feel as Voldemort poked and prodded through his brain, and found the source of his weakness and saw Hermione and the emotional output that had consumed his thoughts at night and during the day. Voldemort spent the rest of the night in his dreams tormenting the dream Hermione, showing what he will do to her if he ever got a hold of her.

It was heart wrenching. It was that day forward that he made the decision to break away from her along with everyone else. He was strong enough to deal with being alone. He spent most of his life doing so, taking care of himself and just spent every day focusing on survival.

His mind and heart betrayed him though. This afternoon with Hermione in the common room was a close call. Something pulled him to her, and he was terrified at the prospect. Was it Voldemort? Or was it Hermione? The look in her eyes after she woke up made him think that she wanted him as much as he did her. But how? She never showed any inkling of fancying him, never showed a hint of wanting things to develop further than their friendship. He sighed quietly.

Nothing confused him more than Hermione Jean Granger did right now.

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3. In Her Absence

A/N: I know I said that this will probably be a 3 part series. But I got away with myself and it kind of got lengthy. I am currently working on the last part (it's halfway done), but every time I open it to work on it, I just sit there staring at it. My muse is currently off doing another project, and the words come easier in that one. I do plan on finishing this though. Soon. Fingers crossed.

Also, I apologize if this part is a little dull. I wanted to add to the back story, and give a little insight as to where Harry is coming from. So even though this chapter is not heavy in context toward the actually plot, I felt the need to put it there. I promise that the next (and last) part will make up for it.

And lastly, I never claimed to be perfect. I know my writing style is a jumbled mess of run ons and fragments. I'd like to think that it's what makes my style unique, no matter how grammatically incorrect it is. This part isn't beta-ed so if it's too hard to read past my errors I apologize.

Anyway, read, review, and enjoy!

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Chapter 3: In Her Absence

Hermione woke the next morning after a couple more hours of restless sleep with a pounding headache and her mind in overdrive. She knew that classes would be too hard to get through with her mind on a fritz like it was and her focus was tainted by an overwhelming sense of dizziness and fatigue. She knew that these were the side effects of the potion, but didn't know it would affect her everyday routine such as classes and even being able to function. She figured that classes would be unbearable but it wouldn't be as hard as facing Harry after what happened the night before.

She didn't dream Harry's dreams after she had fallen asleep the second time and she could only guess that he didn't fall back asleep like she had after a few moments of contemplating everything. Harry's dreams did nothing but confuse her more, and she was tired of trying to figure out what Harry wanted. She realized that trying to figure out what was going on with Harry was a probably dead end. It was a good thing since it was wrong of her to drink the potion in the first place and she might as well give up trying piece things together. After concluding that overanalyzing it would get her nowhere, she forced herself to push it from her mind and allow herself to fall back into a fitful sleep.

For the first time in Hermione life she wasn't able to find a solution to the problem. Understanding Harry was like an arithmetic equation that had no connecting variables. A language she couldn't teach herself no matter the work ethic she put into it. Like a sonnet so contradicting that the whole point was to not make any sense out of it at all. She had spent the last five years being Harry's friend and she was starting realize how much she didn't really know him as well as she thought she did. She couldn't figure out for the life of her how to comfort and help him through everything if she was a huge part of his inner turmoil.

All she knew was what she wanted was probably selfish on her end. Especially with Harry in desperate need of a friend right now. Her feelings shouldn't matter, and all she wanted was things to go back to the way it used to, if only just to settle the loneliness of not having him by her side anymore. If she hadn't been sick she would be determined to make things right between Harry and her. She was embarrassed yes, but she wouldn't allow that to ruin their friendship that meant volumes to her. She made a vow that if he allowed her back in, she would accept the role of his best friend and push her feelings aside once again even if the thought was heartbreaking. It would be far worse to not have Harry in her life at all. With a newfound vigor she was determined to find Harry and be his friend, but the feeling of illness hindered her and she decided today wouldn't be the day to make things right. She would give him as much space he needed today in hopes that he would come around on his own accord.

She could only imagine how he must feel if she felt horrible from the torrent of dreams that haunted him at night. Her mind had worked itself to exhaustion and for the first time since she started school at Hogwarts she opted not to go to her classes for the day.

Her legs felt wobbly and she felt nauseous as she got dressed and made her way to the hospital wing to get an excuse note from Madame Pomfrey.

It was still early, the sun barely making its way above the horizon and she slipped quietly pass the portrait and into the halls. She knew that she was one of the only few students up at that hour as she made her way towards the hospital wing feeling slightly unbalanced. She leaned up against a wall after bumping into it, feeling wretched from the pounding in her head and took a deep calming breath. She knew she was nearly there and she was starting to feel feverish. As she was trying to regain the strength to push herself off the wall and continue on her journey she heard an airy dreamlike voice greet her.

“Hello Hermione Granger,” she heard Luna Lovegood say and walk over to where she leaned against the stone wall clutching it like it was a life line. “You don't look too well, maybe you should go to the hospital ward to see Madame Pomfrey.”

A wave of uncalled for irritation ran through Hermione, “that's where I'm going,” she said and pushed herself off the wall unsteadily. “I-,” she started but a huge wave of vertigo hit her like a ton of bricks causing her to retch and vomit all over the stone tile just missing Luna's bare feet.

Luna responded immediately, a look of concern passing through her usually spacey eyes. She allowed Hermione to lean against her, and she steadied them helping Hermione along the corridor to see their head nurse. “I'll show you there,” Luna said nonchalantly as if it were as simple as her showing her where the Great Hall was, and Hermione was grateful for the tremendous act of kind will coming from a girl she hardly knew.

When they arrived at the hospital wing Madam Pomfrey rushed over to help Hermione to a cot. “What's wrong with her this time?” the matron asked with a weary look on her face. Although Hermione hadn't been to the infirmary as much as Harry did, she was still one of the head nurses regulars.

“I think she has a bad case of ju ju whispies in her stomach,” Luna said in a serious voice. “I'll leave her in your charge,” she smiled and waved goodbye to Hermione before skipping away.

“What in the world is ju ju whispies?” Hermione groaned and rubbed her temples trying to relieve some of the pain the throbbing headache was causing.

“I have no idea child,” Madam Pomfrey responded. “Now tell me what's wrong?” she asked and pulled out her wand to cast a diagnostic spell on Hermione.

Hermione's eyes widened in panic not wanting for the nurse to know why she had such a splitting headache and nausea. She knew that if the head nurse found out she would have to inform the Headmaster, and experimenting with potions that weren't apart of the curriculum was frowned upon.

“I just think it's a bad case of the muggle flu,” Hermione blurted out. “I think I just need to sleep it off. Maybe you can give me a some Sleeping Draught and Pepperup Potion,” she said quickly.

Madam Pomfrey eyed Hermione sternly and lowered her wand. She knew that the girl before her was a bright witch, and very diligent about going to class. She could hardly believe that she would fake illness or eat one of those candies that the Weasley twins were handing out to students to trying get out of attending classes. “Okay,” she sighed and helped Hermione situate herself in a more comfortable position on the cot. “You should be fine by supper time, and I'll give you a written excuse for your absence in classes.”

Hermione sighed relieved that the head nurse didn't interrogate her any further and drank the potions Madam Pomfrey gave her. The sleeping draught put her into a much-needed deep sleep that was void from any dreams and worries that bombarded her mind that put her in the hospital wing in the first place.

oooOOOOooo

Harry got ready for the day early since he couldn't fall back to sleep after he had woken from his nightmares. His body dragged as he showered and got dressed slowly taking his time. He felt like he hadn't gotten an ounce of sleep the night before, and the restless tossing and turning made his body ache, and his head pound.

He went down to have an early breakfast by himself. He couldn't quite figure out if the whisperings and the stares were easier to block out when there were a few people or a big crowd. With a smaller crowd he was able to pick out exactly who was whispering his name and was wearing a scowl on their face, and which ones avoided him like the plague. The hardest ones to face were those that shocked him like Seamus Finnagin. The were many whom he considered his friends at one point, yet now they caused the fraction that divided the entire Gryffindor House on his behalf.

He settled into his seat as his breakfast materialized itself in front of him. Despite his fatigue, the pounding headache offered a distracting sense of calm and he found it easier today to handle the stares and the whisperings. He was slightly grateful that his mind felt fuzzy and that fatigue overpowered the sense of anger that was usually his reaction to the student body against him.

He quietly ate ignoring everything around him and when he was finished he wandered the halls aimlessly as more and more students made their way to breakfast before classes. He found himself in the library telling himself he needed to study for History of Magic especially without Hermione's helpful notes. Professor Binn's boring voice and dull lectures were already hard to focus on in the first place, and with everything going on right now, he knew that if he didn't push himself to keep up with the lesson plan he probably wouldn't pass his O.W.L.s for the course.

It was as if he was unconsciously trying to torture himself as his feet led him to the back of the library to her spot, and peeked around the corner to see if she was there. He missed her dearly, and was torn between being disappointed and relieved when he saw that she wasn't in her usual seat that morning. As if on their own accord, his feet led him to the table where they usually sat and he sighed feeling depressed and lonely.

He shook his head feeling pathetic as the memory of that day hit him again, fresh in his mind from the dream the night before, and he allowed himself to dwell on the thought of it once again.

He knew that something had to change. It had been a weeks since he had spoken to his friends and instead of making it better like he thought it would, it was just getting worse. He had fallen into a deeper depression and it did nothing to help the fact that he was being ostracized most of the whole student body. If anything the absence of his friends made it easier for those who were against to single him out.

On one hand there was those who openly glared at him, some even bold enough to speak up calling him names, and on the opposite side of the spectrum there was those who avoided him all together, calling him cursed; afraid to even go near him for no good reason. Regardless of whichever side they were on, the feelings towards him were still negative and left him feeling hurt and confused.

His friends had been nothing but loyal to him, and in return he cut them off. He knew it was unfair, but at the time but at the time it seemed like a good idea. It was his own battle to face, and they didn't need to be apart of the drama that was centered around his life at the moment. He figured allowing them in would only be wrong if the negativity was not only placed on him, but on them as well. He really didn't want to put them through that.

And then there was Hermione. His mind went on overdrive on just the thought of her and he let out another sigh. His heart and mind were at battle with themselves, and as the days passed his love for her only grew. The distance only made him want her more, and the unusual events of last night with her almost kissing him opened a connection that was unclear, exciting, and terrifying at the same time.

He could only wonder how long he could stay away from his friends, especially Hermione, and if it was worth it at all to begin with.

oooOOOOooo

When he walked into History of Magic that morning the first thing he noticed was that Hermione wasn't there. She usually was one of the first to show up, going over the text that was assigned the night before. She had a habit of reading ahead so she showed up earlier to go over her notes and refresh her memory of that chapter that they were working on. He knew no one as diligent to their studies as Hermione was.

That's why he was surprised to find her usual spot in the front of the class empty when Professor Binn's started the lesson. He kept on glancing back and forth from her seat to the door expecting her to walk in late. Not that she ever was. But he knew it wasn't like Hermione to miss a class. Unlike other students at their age, she thoroughly enjoyed studying, soaking up every bit of information as possible which in turn made her the brightest witch in school. For the past five years she never missed one class with the exception of her being petrified by the Basilisk during their second year. Hell, she even managed to attend more classes than anyone else by this point during their studies due to her Time Turner in third year.

There had to be something wrong. He took a glance at Ron who apparently didn't notice their friend's absence seeing as though he was already nodding off. Professor Binn's had barely even started. Despite his own fatigue and Professor Binn's droning he felt anxious and worried. The ghostly teacher's monotonous voice was easier to drown out as Harry went through all the worst case scenarios as to why Hermione didn't show up to class this morning. His nerves were on end and he felt worried sick as he sat in wonder. It only made the class feel longer than it really was.

By the time they were in their second period with Professor McGonagall it was apparent that Ron had woken up and realized that Hermione was not in attendance. Ron looked as worried as he felt. They both knew that it was rare that Hermione would rarely miss class, being as studious as she was. Clearly there had to be something wrong.

The whole class was spent with them shifting nervously in their seats taking quick glances at Hermione's empty chair, and on occasion each would steal a glance at each other, briefly holding eye contact with the same questioning look in their eyes. Ron's discomfort was more visible than his own as Ron continued to look wildly around the classroom looking at Hermione's dorm mates giving the same look to them that he had given Harry.

Eventually Professor McGonagall caught onto Ron's disruptive behavior. “Is there something wrong Mr. Weasley?” she asked abruptly looking annoyed for the interruption of the lecture.

“I was just wondering where Hermione was Professor,” Ron mumbled slinking deeper into this seat at the stern look McGonagall was giving him.

“Her absence is excused,” was all the professor said not quelling the worries that ran through Harry and Ron's head. If anything it made it worse, as the mauled over what kind of trouble Hermione might have gotten into. The division in their friendship twisted a knot of guilt in Harry's stomach and he sat the rest of the class brooding over the fact that whatever hindered Hermione from attending class today she had to bare through all alone. And that was entirely his fault.

The class dragged on, and Harry barely heard a word McGonagall had said during her lecture. His parchment designated for notes was left empty, his quill not a drop of ink on it. When class finally ended he gathered his belongings quickly wanting to catch up to Ron who was already halfway out the door.

“Mr. Potter, may I speak with you a moment please?” McGonagall said sternly and as he came to a halt.

“Sure Professor,” he said uncomfortably and shifted under her gaze. He watched Ron go, feeling slightly irritated that the professor had stopped him before he was able to catch up with his best friend. Or used to be best friend, he heard his inner thoughts grumble ashamed.

“Do you know the reason why I need to have a word with you Mr. Potter?” She said looking down at him with an intimidating look.

“Yes, Professor,” he mumbled not looking into her eyes.

“Your grades have fallen dramatically Mr. Potter. I'm guessing that Ms. Granger is no longer helping you with your studies?” she asked raising an eyebrow.

He just nodded, and when he said nothing else she took at deep breath. “May I ask why?”

“We've had a bit of a fall out Professor. It's not her fault, it's mine,” Harry said not looking at her or giving the professor a further explanation.

She hummed sympathetically. “Mr. Potter, I do have eyes and ears you know. And I am full aware of the rumors going on about you right now. I can assure you, that without friends it will only make things harder on you.”

McGonagall stared at him harshly for a second before her gaze turned sympathetic, “You really are a striking image of your father you know,” she said in a nostalgic voice. Harry glanced up; it was not often that Minerva McGonagall let her usual stern façade fade away.

Yes, he had heard this numerous times and nodded to her “spitting image of my father… with my mother eyes.”

She smiled back her eyes twinkling, “Yes Mr. Potter, but I was also referring to his entourage as well. Friendship was very important to him. And he grew up a very brilliant young man because of it. And with the addition to your mother it made his best attributes shine even brighter.”

Harry listened in awe as McGonagall recalled the day when she first met his father in class, and how rowdy he and his friends were. It always filled him with a sense of wonder whenever he listened to stories of his parents, yet it also made him feel a bit envious, and especially with everything going on in his life presently it was starting to make him feel more lonely than ever.

He just swallowed and nodded slowly before cutting her off. He knew he wouldn't be able to take it much longer without having a nervous breakdown in front of the Transfigurations teacher, “may I go Professor? I don't want to be late for Potions.”

She looked startled by his abruptness but curtly excused him. As he exited the door he heard her call out once more, “Mr. Potter, please take my advice to heart. I could only imagine what you may feel. But have you asked yourself how the must feel as well? Remember those who love you have feelings too.”

He stalled in his tracks momentarily feeling overwhelmingly guilty but tried to shake it off and left.

Of course they had feelings. And he knew he was continuing to hurt their feelings with each passing day. Especially after what happened with Hermione in the common room yesterday.

He was determined to make it right. If only he could figure out how.

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