Unofficial Portkey Archive

Hello everyone! I know I know-I said my posts won't take any longer than two weeks, and this has taken me three. I'm sorry, my job has had me working a lot of overtime, which cuts into my writing time. Barely been able to sleep! Luckily, I slept part of my Friday away so I could stay up til 5 a.m. and get this posted for you guys. Not gonna lie, not a whole lot goes on in this one-might be why I was literally falling asleep while writing it-that or I'm really tired, which I am. Haha. Anyway, like I said, not a whole lot is going to go on here, but last chapter was pretty action-packed, and next chapter is going to be pretty big (I think), so this is a little interlude that gets us from points A to B. Hope you enjoy! And for those of you that look at my replies to your reviews, I know I'm behind, I will try to take care of them tomorrow, most of them anyway, haha. I had a lot of song inspiration for this one, as you shall be able to tell! Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter-you guys are awesome.

Disclaimer: I own nothing besides Cliffinshire, and soon that will be gone, and I'll have nothing. This makes me sad. I need ice cream.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Whispers in the Dark (or as my own person name for this chapter that I enjoy, Shit Gets Heavy)

The days grow shorter and the nights are getting long
Feels like we're running out of time
Every day it seems much harder tellin' right from wrong
You got to read between the lines

"Fight the Good Fight" Triumph

Hermione leaned against the counter, her breath caught somewhere uncomfortably between her chest and the back of her throat. Wheezing and shaking slightly, she reached for a cup and filled it with water from the tap. She downed half the glass, and splashed the rest of it on her burning face.

Feeling worn out, she slowly slumped down to the hardwood floor, enjoying the cool wood against her sweating body. She had just returned from a run with Harry and Draco. They wanted to make one more quick round then head for a workout in the garage on Sirius's weight set, but Hermione begged off. Ever since the incident at the Quidditch game, Harry had insisted that Hermione train with him. He wanted her out of danger, but if she were put in danger, he wanted her in top form.

Their vacation was unofficially over. They had returned to Sirius's beach house against Harry's mother's wishes. However, as Harry put it-they had three weeks before September. The likelihood of Voldemort going after him after letting him go at the match was pretty slim. Hermione could tell he had been nervous about returning here, but Hermione was glad he decided to. She wasn't ready to go home just yet, and she didn't want to stay under Lily Potter's watchful eyes either.

She had an inkling that Harry was hiding something from her, and here, she was determined to find out. He was quick to know that the Death Eaters were there at the match for him, and even quicker to respond. Yes, they were in a war, and yes, Harry had already undergone preparations for it with his training and attempting the Auror program, but Hermione hadn't realized just how in deep he had been. He hid his worries well. His dream had been his only slip, and she still didn't know how bad that had been. Something had happened to her, and she had figured it had been at the hand of Voldemort or his minions at the time. Now, however, Hermione couldn't help but wonder else had been haunting him?

It was easy to forget about the war here on the beach, lying in the sun or sitting on the porch and watching the rain. With the sound of the crashing waves and the views of the beautiful cliffs, it was hard to remember they were battling an evil. In some ways, she had forgotten. The war thus far had been in the back of her mind. Now, it was at the forefront. By his quick actions at the match, it seemed like the war had already been weighing on Harry's mind quite heavily, and Hermione needed to know why. Coming out and asking him wasn't an option-he could lie too well, after all, he had hidden his worries thus far. No, she needed him to come to her, for him to want to share with her. However, she doubted that would happen, as he was determined to shield her from the ugliness they were dealing with, which was something she was not handling very well.

Yes, their vacation was over. Instead of days filled with video games and fun at the beach, their activities took a whole new turn. They trained hard-both mind and body. Hermione hated working out with Harry-and Ron and Draco when they were here. After a lot of thought, Draco had decided to not try out for Puddlemere United. Instead, he got a permanent job at the twins' shop with Ron. With everything that was going on with Voldemort, he felt it would be better for him to stay here and be at the Order's expense. Hermione had expected Harry to throw a fit about it, but he hadn't said much. Perhaps he realized their futures were going to be influenced by Voldemort and there was no use fighting it. Perhaps he knew more about what was going to happen than she did that he didn't plan to share, and foresaw Draco needing more time for defense training. Perhaps he saw his best friend as one more body between Voldemort and Hermione. That thought scared her, and she knew it couldn't possibly be true because Harry would never think like that.

Hermione slowly made her way to Harry's bedroom to get fresh clothes for her shower, still worn out.

She was lying on the couch in the living room by the time to two boys decided to come inside, both covered in sweat. Harry sat down on the floor, not wanting to get sweat all over the couch as Draco hopped in the shower first because he had to go to work.

"How are you doing? Feeling alright?" Harry asked with a smile. "You're getting used to it, yeah?"

Hermione gave him a pointed looked. "I'm right terrible at running and you know it. I'm not going to pretend to like it." She told him over the book she was reading.

Harry grinned. "It won't be so bad. The first couple of weeks are the hardest. Once your body gets used to the stress you are putting on it now and gets accustom to the workout-" He began, trying to sell her the same speech he had since their first run.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know, I know. You've only told me a couple hundred times now, Potter. I don't need it again. I'm doing it, okay? I don't have to like it." She laughed.

Harry shrugged with a smile. "Just trying to be supportive-didn't know that was a crime." He replied defensively.

Hermione closed her book. "Yes, well, you're being a little too supportive."

Harry crawled towards her and laid his head on top of her chest. "Fine. I'll be less supportive. You suck and you need to buck up, Granger. Aren't going to outrun those Death Eaters with speed like yours!" He joked, nuzzling her neck.

Hermione tried to push him away. "Ew. You're all sweaty and I already got my shower! You're making me gross!!!"

Harry chuckled. "That's okay. You can take another shower with me." He said huskily, climbing on the couch with her and catching her lips in a kiss. He unceremoniously pushed her book away from her hand so it dropped on the floor with a muffled thud. His hands caught each of her thighs and wrapped her legs around his hips so he could press closer to her.

Hermione let out a soft moan of approval as his lips began to travel down her neck. With her eyes closed, she whispered his name softly, her hand threading through his hair, uncaring about the dampness of it. Pulling slightly, she guided his lips back to hers hungrily.

"Oh, Merlin. I think I'm going to be sick." A voice drawled from behind them as Draco made his way over and plopped down on the chair beside them.

Harry pulled away reluctantly. "Go away. Don't you have to be at work or something?" He mumbled grouchily, not moving from his spot despite his friend's presence.

"Soon. Perhaps even sooner if I have to witness the pair of you create your own homemade porno right here on the bloody couch." He said with a gagging expression.

Harry got to his feet and pulled Hermione to hers as well. "Ha-ha, Malfoy. We'll just be going then-you spewing chunks may very well ruin the mood." Harry said, towing Hermione in the direction of the bathroom.

* * *

I left alone, my mind was blank,

I needed time to think

To get the memories from my mind

What did I see? Can I believe that what I saw

That night was real and not just fantasy?

Just what I saw in my old dreams

Were they reflections of my warped mind staring back at me

'Cause in my dreams, it's always there

The evil face that twists my mind and brings me to despair

"The Number of the Beast" IRON MAIDEN

* * *

Harry tossed his pen down and peered over the page before him with tired eyes. It was a small journal entry of sorts. The events at the Quidditch match really put in perspective that they were in danger and this war was really going on. Being at Sirius's house, away from the real world, had given them a false sense of security. Yes, he knew there was danger, but actually being thrust into the recent situation he had been, it brought the war to a whole new level. His dreams had been the only connection really to Voldemort, the only reminder that he was out there, no doubt building an army to wage war on the only world he knew. He had attacked them, and had most likely gotten the information on their whereabouts from Harry's mind.

Harry didn't know if his dreams were important, but just in case they were, he decided to document them. Once he returned from training camp, he could bring it up to Dumbledore and see what his thoughts were concerning him seeing into Voldemort's mind, and vise versa. Harry thumbed idly through his small dream journal. He had written a description of every detail he could remember, about when he had the dream, and the pain level of his scar that he could remember from the whole summer. He knew he was missing some, but he figured he at least had all of the important ones. Some even had small sketches, like the inside of a cave, or another of a brown-haired girl bound on a table surrounded by faceless hooded figures. Harry gave an involuntary shiver at the memory.

Tonight, he had been taken to a room full of hundreds of glass spheres on rows and rows of shelves. The room had been dark and unfamiliar. Harry had no idea what that was about. All he knew what that he woke up at three in the morning to a sharp pain in his scar and sweating. He looked at the clock now, and it told him that it was almost half-past three. Hermione, Ron, and Draco were all still fast asleep at this ungodly hour. With a yawn, Harry decided he would join them-he accomplished about all he was going to with his dream. He closed his book and returned to his bedroom. Harry tossed the journal in the bottom drawer of his bedside table before crawling back into bed with Hermione.

His body automatically curved to hers and he pulled her close. He couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety that was swimming in his stomach. How could he be apart from her for two weeks, and have her off in another country, without his protection? Part of him said it was a good idea-she would be far away from Voldemort and safe. Another part of him was terrified because that meant she was away from the Order, away from him…what if something happened?

He couldn't ask her to not go, he knew that. He didn't even know if staying would make her safer. Harry also knew missing training camp wasn't an option either. In a perfect world, Hermione would stay at Headquarters, swathed in bubble wrap until his return.

It was strange, to worry about someone the way he worried about her. He couldn't believe how hard he had fallen for her-well, that's not true. Knowing her, he could definitely see why he would have fallen so hard. However, had someone told him back in September that Hermione Granger was going to become so important to him, that he was going to feel this intensely for her…he would have told them they had gone mad. Not possible. There was no chance in Hell.

* * *

When a man loves a woman
Can't keep his mind on nothin' else
He'd trade the world
For a good thing he's found
If she is bad, he can't see it
She can do no wrong
Turn his back on his best friend
If he puts her down

When a man loves a woman
Spend his very last dime
Trying to hold on to what he needs
He'd give up all his comforts
And sleep out in the rain
If she said that's the way
It ought to be

"When a Man Loves a Woman" MICHAEL BOLTON/AL GREEN (I know there are others, but these two are my favorite)

* * *

Yet here he was, in love in the worst kind of way. The kind of way where he would do absolutely anything for her, where he worried about her safety before anyone else's, and knew if push came to shove…he would watch the world burn if it spared her pain. It was dangerous to have someone like that in his life given his situation. He knew Voldemort must know, he had seen in his head where Hermione very often frequented his thoughts. It scared the hell out of him that the Dark Lord would maybe use this to his advantage. With Hermione unprotected for two weeks…it was a tough thought to swallow, and made his chest hurt just thinking about it.

But she was talented, he forced himself to remember. Hermione was no fragile china doll, he knew. She could hold her own, and she was completely brilliant. Skills, intelligence, and fitness-three very important attributes both of them needed to hone desperately, and they were improving every day. If there was anything the Quidditch match had forced him to realize, it was that they were no match for Death Eaters. He felt that they hadn't really had a fair chance-things spun out of control too quickly to really have their skills tested. But that was war. Situations weren't ideal by any means, and you had to deal with what you were dealt.

He could still see Hermione dropping out of the tree onto Bellatrix's shoulders. Her face-horrified by what was about to come-burned into his brain. Her screams would not go silent. The entire image haunted him, his nightmares. He knew he would do whatever he had to do to ensure that that never happened again.

His training intensified-even more than it had already. He spent a large part of his day reading and researching new spells to master. He ran even more, sometimes he felt like that's how he was going to go out-death by pure exhaustion. He didn't think it was possible for him to kick it up another notch. He had packed on muscle over the summer from working out. He could feel his strength increase. He knew he wasn't wasting his time with his workout and exercise. What if he were in a situation where wands had fallen out of their hands and it came to basic hand-to-hand combat, and they had to use the most crude of weapons-their own bodies? He would be ready.

Hermione's training in the physical front was not going so well, but it had only been a week and a half, and she had no past athletic background to build on. She would improve, he knew. Her training with the new spells they found was going brilliantly, however. Her two strong attributes were definitely her skills and her intelligence-perhaps the two most important. He was proud of her and her abilities. He felt bad, later, when she thought he was insulting her abilities during their fight at his house. At the time, the fact that she would get angry over something so stupid during their argument over bigger, more important things, it had irritated him. However, once they had calmed down, he had felt bad that she would even consider Harry having no faith in her abilities. He knew she was dangerous with a wand and that her spell work was brilliant.

However, at the end of the day, he knew brilliant spell work, running fast, and being logical wasn't going to save them-not when their enemy played the game with no rules, no compassion for anyone, and was the root of all evil. They needed an edge, but they may as well be looking for it in pillow shop.

* * *

Hermione wrote down another spell and a brief description on it in her notebook for them to try later, once Harry woke up. After his shower, the two of them had been so worn out by their run that they lied down on the couch and put in a film. Harry had fallen asleep within the first twenty minutes. Hermione was now sitting in the chair, book in her lap with the movie playing in the background. She glanced over at him, sprawled out on the couch with his mouth hanging open slightly and his glasses about to fall off his nose. She knew he had been having problems sleeping. He had also been training past the point of exhaustion. This was a very much needed nap, that was for sure.

She sat her book down and slowly walked over to the couch. Hermione pulled his glasses off and sat them on the coffee table. She watched his eyelids twitch and spasm slightly and his facial expression changed into one of discomfort. Still asleep, his hand came up to rub his scar for a second, as if it bothered him.

Hermione reached over to wake him up from whatever was troubling him, but stopped just short of touching him. What was he dreaming about? She bit her lip. She shouldn't. She might not even be able to-she had never tried. If Harry found out, he would be angry with her, no doubt. Hermione's eyes landed on her wand, and she leisurely reached over to grab it.

Feeling guilty, and not even sure if this would work, she pointed her wand at him and whispered under her breath, "Legilimens!"

Instantly, her mind was taken over by images that she had no connection to. Instead of the onslaught of flashes of memories like her encounters with Professor Snape, there wasn't the chaotic skip between images. It was more comparable to her watching a film of one single thought. Also, the vision was muddied and blurry, and the sound was as if she were underwater.

She was standing in a dark, rock-formulated chamber. Her voice was a soft hiss, and she was talking to someone behind her, and her tone was full of amusement. "A spell in Azkaban to start. He put so many of my faithful servants in there…a little revenge for them. Then…then he will be dealt with how I see fit."

"Of course, my lord. It is no more than he deserves." A man's voice answered, soft and full of certainty, like always. She knew the voice.

She swung around and faced her old Potions professor. "Indeed, Severus, indeed. And how are things going with the Order? Dumbledore…that man makes me laugh with his pathetic attempt to stop me." She laughed ruthlessly.

Snape didn't bat an eye at the jab at the Headmaster. "No news, my lord. Still scrambling from the Quidditch match. That came as quite a shock, as you know." Snape replied.

"Of course I know. Just a reminder that the Potter boy is still on my list, even if not in my sights at the moment. He will be, in time. No need to rush. I want…theatrics when dealing with him. `The-Boy-Who-Lived?'" She sneered, referring to his new nickname. "The Wizarding World will know just how weak he is before all is said in done. The-Boy-Who-Has-Fallen will be more appropriate. My secret weapon will ensure that, well, one of my secret weapons. One will be his undoing, while the other will be his destruction." He laughed.

Snape's interest was piqued. "These secret plans, my lord. Perhaps, if you share…" He left his thoughts hanging in the silence between the two of them.

She felt a sneer form on her thin lips. "Ah, my dear Severus, we have been over this. These plans only lie with the most trusted, and the most trusted alone. Do not worry…in time, Severus, in time…it is better to be in the dark. The inevitable twist will be most…satisfying."

Snape bowed his head in respect. "Of course. I look forward to it. If you need an aiding, however-please, allow me to help you. As for now, however, if there is nothing else, I must be returning."

She raised an alabaster hand with long, thin fingers in dismissal. A door behind her shut, and she was alone, feeling smug. She sat down at the head of the table before her, laced her fingers behind her head, and closed her eyes.

The image changed. She was suddenly flying high in the air in a face-paced Quidditch match, sounds and images now clearer than ever.

* * *

Say your prayers little one, Don't forget my son
To include everyone, I tuck you in
Warm within, Keep you free from sin
'Til the sandman he comes

Something's wrong, shut the light

Heavy thoughts tonight
And they aren't of snow white
Dreams of war, Dreams of lies
Dreams of dragons fire
And of things that will bite, yeah

"Enter Sandman" METALLICA

* * *

Hermione released the spell and crashed back to reality. Harry was still fast asleep before her, his expression no longer troubled now that he was dreaming of Quidditch and not Voldemort. Shakily, she got up from the floor and dropped back into her chair. Hermione tried to process what she had just seen. While her mind wanted to ask if what she had just seen was real or not, her heart already knew it was. The way he rubbed his scar. The dream from Voldemort's point of view. How she could feel how he was feeling, even as a spectator. Perhaps even the blurriness of the vision was another sign. At first, she thought maybe that's just how Legilimency worked, but once she was switched over to the Quidditch dream, it was crystal clear.

Harry was seeing into Voldemort's head. He never said anything. Never shared this with her. He had mentioned before that he couldn't remember what he had dreamt, only that it had been about her and it had been bad. Had he known, really? She couldn't be sure. She hated to think he would lie to her, but after recent events…she wasn't sure if she could fully trust him to be honest with her. He needed to get over that real quick, she knew. The only way they were going to survive this war was if they were open and honest with each other.

How long had this been going on? And, with a sinking feeling, she wondered if this connection worked both ways. The Death Eaters at the match suddenly came to mind. It had been such a coincidence that they had happened to know exactly where they were to deliver Voldemort's message to Harry. If Voldemort had plucked the information from Harry's mind, what else could he have figured out? Information on the Order? He had Snape for that.

And Snape. He had reacted so coolly. Given information without a second thought. His façade had been flawless, especially the way he had tried to pry information from Voldemort about his secret weapons. Plans Voldemort was unwilling to share with anyone save his most trusted servants, and that category must not include Snape. This information surprised her.

His secret weapon would be Harry's undoing, he had said. Another would be his destruction. And the Order had no idea what these weapons were, and Snape was no closer to finding out what they were than she was. Fear gripped her heart tightly.

Someone had been put in Azkaban, but she found it difficult to even care about that with Harry's demise being planned at this very moment. Yes, she knew Voldemort wanted Harry dead. That was no secret. He had promised suffering. That was almost more than she could handle. To hear Him talking about it, and about having the secret weapons to do so at his disposal…that was it. It pushed her past the point of madness. She felt the urge to go to Voldemort herself and kill him for even considering hurting Harry.

It couldn't be the simple, however. Things never were. Azkaban. Secret weapons. Harry's undoing and destruction. While still trying to digest all this, she hadn't noticed that Harry woken up.

"Hey you." He said, looking over at her with a yawn.

Hermione's head snapped up to meet Harry's stare.

Immediate concern crossed his features as he sat halfway up onto his elbows. "You okay? You look pale. What's wrong?" He asked seriously.

Hermione smoothed her expression and grinned at him. "Nothing. I'm fine. How did you sleep? You looked…upset earlier, but then it passed. Did you have a nightmare?"

Harry's expression automatically tensed. "I don't know. It's kind of foggy. All I remember is playing Quidditch…and you."

Hermione wanted to believe him, but she could see the lies in his eyes. "Me?" She asked, raising an eyebrow and playing along, and not showing how much it killed her that he couldn't be completely honest.

"After a particularly brilliant catch, you surprised me with a reward of your own." He said with a wink, and Hermione couldn't get over how easily he could ignore his intrusion into Voldemort's mind and his findings. He played it off so well that she almost believed that he hadn't really remembered anything. "How about you come over here and I tell you all about it?" He suggested, scooting all the way against the back of the couch to give her space to join him.

She got up and lay down alongside him, her back to his chest while he wrapped his arm securely around her. His breath tickled her neck as he began to whisper his dream in her ear. She only heard half of his words as his lies still echoed in her mind. She hadn't realized he was no longer talking and was waiting for a response.

"Hermione? Are you sure you're okay?" He asked worriedly.

Hermione turned her body to look at him. "Yes. I…it just worries me that you are having nightmares." She said uncertainly, hoping to spark something in him that would cause him to spill the beans.

Harry looked into Hermione's brown eyes, deep with concern for him. He knew his dreams would only cause more anxiety for her. He made a mental note to not take any more naps from now on. He would only sleep when she slept too. He had dreamt about Voldemort discussing several matters with Snape, from alliances and secret weapons to putting someone in Azkaban because despite what the Ministry thought, Voldemort ran the prison now, not Fudge. He would make note of them for Dumbledore, and go from there. No point in burdening Hermione with them now. Finally, after a few seconds of silence, Harry smoothed his features and gave her a smile. "Don't be. I'm sure it was nothing." He pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. "These are the dreams worth remembering…ones I spend with you. Almost as good as the real thing." He sighed, letting his eyes close. Falling back asleep with her right here beside him was almost too easy. He needed to get up before he dozed back off. "Do you want to go for a swim?" He asked. They hadn't been to the ocean since his birthday, almost two and a half weeks ago. They had been doing nonstop training in one form or another that they had barely had a moment to think, let alone do something fun.

Hermione did not like being put off, that was obvious, but she let it go. Instead of insisting further, she squeezed his arm that was slung across her middle and curled under her hip. "It's raining."

Harry looked out of the window and saw that it was indeed raining. "Of course it is. It's always raining."

Hermione shrugged. "Don't like the weather, move."

"Would you come with me?" Harry asked teasingly.

Despite being upset with her boyfriend, Hermione was unable to resist his charming banter. "I dunno, maybe. Would you want me to?" She shot back with a grin.

Harry hugged her tightly. "I want you to be with me always. Maybe we can move to an island somewhere, away from it all. Just sit on the beach all day. Paradise. Make a living selling coconuts or something. Somewhere wild and exotic. Maybe the natives won't even speak English." Harry fantasized in her ear, letting his hand slip beneath her top to graze the warmth of her stomach.

Hermione could hear the wistfulness in his voice, as if he really wished his words were true, but knew they never would happen. It did sound like a tempting dream. She turned around in his arms to study his face. His features were smooth. Perfect nose. Beautiful lips. Startling green eyes behind round glasses. His midnight ebony hair had grown out slightly longer than he was accustomed to, and she knew he was planning on getting it cut soon before going to camp. Now, it fell messily across his forehead and stuck out in all directions. Bed head. Tired eyes.

He grinned uncomfortably, showing her his perfect teeth. "What are you staring at?" He asked, bringing his hand up to cover her eyes.

She grabbed his fingers and brought them to her lips and kissed each one individually before entwining her fingers with his, marveling at how much larger his hand was than hers. His hand made hers look like a child's in comparison. "You." She replied simply, snuggling close into his chest. "How about we make our own paradise right here in the mean time?" She asked, her nose pressed against his neck. She could smell his deodorant and body wash. She couldn't imagine something happening to him, and knew she would do anything to stop it.

His arms wrapped around her back. "Sound brilliant." He whispered in her hair, closing his eyes. "I love you."

In response, Hermione's embraced tightened.

* * *

Whether it was because they were feeling particularly in love, or if they were burnt out on training, the two did not go over the new spells Hermione had found like they had for the last two weeks. The rain continued to pour outside, effectively keeping them in the house. They made dinner together-a light pasta recipe that Hermione told Harry he was going to eat, whether he wanted to or not; his diet be damned! Then they cleaned up the Muggle way, just enjoying being normal for a moment.

They played a few rounds of video games before putting in Friends. They were up to season five. Hermione missed being lazy with him like this: sprawled out on the couch and laughing. She hadn't felt this light since before the disaster at the Quidditch match, a fortnight ago. And they only had two more weeks here-actually twelve days. They were going home on a Thursday, and Harry would be leaving that Sunday for training camp; and she would be going to Greece that Wednesday morning on a nine a.m. flight. Then she would be returning a week and a half later on Saturday, while Harry would be back Sunday. Once they were back…she didn't know. Harry would go into the Auror program, while she would waste away at Clarence's library, continuing her independent training.

Things would change, that much was obvious. She would have to get used to sleeping alone again. She would have to get used to being in the middle of the war. She would have to get used to putting up a brave front for her parents so they wouldn't worry.

She would have to get used to a lot of things she wasn't ready for at the moment. That's why these stolen moments of normality were cherished after two week of stress and worrying.

Going to bed that night, Hermione clung to Harry, afraid he might disappear if she let him go. Normally, she slept on her side, away from him because she liked her space. Not tonight. Tonight, she curled her body around his, her hand flat against his chest and her cheek against his bare back, enjoying the warmth of his skin beneath hers. She lied awake, her mind replaying his dream over and over in her mind, her brain trying to make sense of its implications.

She had dozed in and out in fitful bouts of sleep. Harry's smallest movement jarred her awake. It was no surprise that him slowly getting out of bed caused her eyes to open again in the dark room. The clock read four forty-five. She watched silently as he bent over and opened his bottom beside table drawer and pulled out a thin notebook and exited the room. Confused, she sat there in his warm bed, alone. What was he doing? She laid there for several minutes, wondering whether or not she should follow and see what he was up to. Was he keeping track of his training maybe?

While her mind worked, apparently so had he. Before she could come to a decision, the door eased open and she quickly shut her eyes, not wanting to be caught awake for some reason. She peeked through one eye and watched him replace the notebook back into the drawer before crawling back into bed. For the last two weeks, he had moved his morning run to a little later in the morning, now that Hermione went with him. She felt him pull her close to him and plant a soft kiss at the base of her neck. She laid there, his body pressed up against hers and holding her tight, with her mind on what was in the drawer and wondering how she was going to find out.

The answer came easily enough. When he woke her up to go on their run, she begged off. "I'm too tired." She said with a yawn, which was true.

"We can go later if you want." He said, though Hermione knew he hated waiting too late in the morning to go.

Hermione shook her head as she stretched out on the bed. "Go ahead. I'll get the next one."

He gave her a look, the look had had given her several times when she tried to get out of going.

With a sheepish look, Hermione pulled the pillow over her face.

"Hermione…" He said sternly, pulling the pillow away.

Hermione sat up on her knees and hugged him from behind, her arms slung over his shoulder with her fingers grazing his chest. She knew there were a few things Harry couldn't say no to and was too weak to resist. "How about…" She whispered seductively in his ear, pausing to lick the length of his neck from its base to his ear, "You go on a run, and I lay here in bed…naked…" She kissed the back of his neck until she got reached his other ear, eliciting a soft groan from him. "And think up all the ways I can make it up to you?" She asked, pressing her body against his and letting her fingers rake across his chest while she continued to kiss his neck. She allowed her hand to venture farther south, across his stomach and he caught it just before it reached the waistband of his boxers.

"Hermione…" He repeated, but this time his voice was more of a plea. "It's important for you…for you to…" His words faltered while Hermione's tongue continued across his skin and her nails trailed along the muscles in his stomach.

"Important for me to…?" She asked innocently, maneuvering so she was now sitting in his lap, lips still on his throat.

"Important…important for you to be in top form and be able…able to…" He tried to get out, his eyes closed as Hermione's light touches caused his body to shiver in pleasure.

"Something wrong with my form?" She teased throatily, grabbing his hand and sliding it under her shirt and up her body.

"No, just…just…" His voice trailed off.

"Just what?" Hermione breathed. She could hear his breathing quicken as feel his body responding to hers, and knew she was treading dangerous territory. If she got him too worked up, he'd call off the run himself and she needed him to leave. If things got much more out of hand, then no doubt Harry would-

"Aw, fuck!" Harry groaned in defeat, grabbing her roughly by the back of her head and pulling her lips to his. His hands grasped her thighs to keep her from falling as he half-stood and twisted his body and pushed her back onto the bed with himself falling on top of her. With his mouth on hers urgently, Hermione had no control over the moan that erupted from somewhere in her chest. His hands were everywhere, searching for bare skin.

It certainly wasn't what Hermione was aiming for, but she chalked it up as a victory anyway.

Laying in bed an hour later, tangled in sheets and each other, her shoulders shook with laughter at Harry's accusation of her getting out of running using her body.

"I don't want to. I will run twice as hard tonight, I promise." She insisted, pulling the sheets close around her body as if she would mold herself into the bed if she pressed hard enough.

Harry chuckled and slid out of bed to gather clothes. It was now late in the morning. If he didn't train now, then he wasn't going to. Once he was dressed and saw that Hermione hadn't budged, he sighed. He crawled over back in bed with her. "Promise you will go tonight and try hard?" He asked, his eyes twinkling.

Hermione nodded insistently and held up a pinky. He hooked his with hers, dropped a kiss on her nose, and headed for the door.

Hermione waited a few minutes before slowly climbing out of bed, sheets secured around her body, and watched out one of the windows. Soon, she watched as Harry, Ron, and Draco all came into view with their running clothes on. They stretched for a second before hitting the pavement. She knew they would keep in close to the house with her being here alone, keeping it in view. She waited a few more minutes before rushing over to the bedside table and wrenching it open. She shuffled a few papers around and had to dig for a second before pulling the notebook out with a flourish. "I win. Granger-one; Potter-zero." She mumbled under her breath before falling back onto the bed and opening the book.

On h the first page there were a few lines-not even full sentences in Harry's untidy scrawl.

Feel weak and strong at the same time-trapped-uncomfortable-pacing in front of mirror-no face-dark hair-features too blurry to make out-bright crimson eyes

Don't remember scar hurting

Underneath was a quick sketch, just a large oval and a faceless figure with dark hair standing before it, red eyes gleaming. Was that supposed to be Harry?

Confused, Hermione turned the page-another few lines, another small sketch.

Cave?-green waters-triggered by looking out at the ocean-flashed before my eyes-dreamt about it the night before-looked like a cave maybe-woke up with scar hurting and sweating-can't remember dream

A small sketch of gray, jagged walls and rocky shoreline with eerie green water meeting it.

Next page. More lines, more pictures. She went through the book quickly. She stopped when she saw a drawing of a girl bound on a table among faceless figures. Brown hair, brown eyes. She didn't need to read it to know what was going on in this one. There wasn't a description anyway. Scrawl below the drawing were just five words:

If I fail-no words

She swallowed uncomfortably before turning the page. Nightmares replaying the Quidditch match with no pictures, no scar hurting. These weren't connected with Voldemort, these were just his own fears. She came across one with glass orbs from, by the date of it, just a few days ago. Confusion riddled the tone of his words.

Big dusty room-glass spheres-dunno what that's about-scar hurt pretty bad-I have no recollection of this place-unfamiliar-felt a tug of something, not sure-why am I brought here?-not the first time been haunted by this one-maybe Dumbledore will know

The next and final dream caused her heart to stop. It was from the day before, the words chaotic as if he was trying to write down everything he could remember before he forgot, interrupting one thought with another and going back and forth:

Secret weapon-someone is in Azkaban-Voldemort talking to Snape-won't tell him secret plans-plans supposed to cause my destruction-of course they are because that's my luck-scar hurt but not too much-another intrusion, not fed-blurry and muffled-only most trusted know secret plans-who in the hell is that?-Sirius said Bellatrix was loyal and close with Dark Lord?-revenge on who put Death Eaters in Azkaban-?

"That liar." Hermione said vehemently, snapping the dream diary closed. So he was remembering everything, and lying about it. She opened it and read it again, quickly, before returning it to its place in the drawer. She didn't want to get caught. She crawled in bed, mind still reeling as she went through all of the dreams she had read about. How could she bring this up without confessing her breaking into his mind and snooping through his things? While she felt him lying trumped that for sure, she didn't want him to think he couldn't trust her.

She reached over and put her knickers and shirt back on, feeling a little numb. It was worse than she thought. He was having dreams that-by the looks of it-were getting progressively worse. If she understood it right, sometimes the images were "fed" to him by Voldemort, while other times it was an accidental intrusion, most likely caused by the connection they have through his scar. Having nightmares fed to him by Voldemort was bad-very very bad. It meant Voldemort was not only well aware of the situation and could get information from Harry's mind, but he could manipulate his dreams.

She was scared-scared for him and scared for herself. He had to go to Dumbledore. Maybe she could go to Dumbledore. She had a few days before going to Greece.

Going to Greece sounded so stupid now. Since the Death Eaters' attack, going on any sort of vacation seemed foolish. What if something happened while she was in Greece, either there with her family or back here with everyone else in the Order?

She had half a mind to ask her parents to cancel it, but she knew how long they had been planning and looking forward to it. With her being gone pretty well the entire summer, how could she deny them this?

She thought back to his notes in his book. Severus didn't know Voldemort's secret plans, but perhaps Bellatrix was aware of them, only "the most trusted," Voldemort had said.

Who was the most trusted? Was it Bellatrix?

When Harry returned, he found her much like he left her, only with clothes on. Dripping from sweat after an exceptional run and workout in the garage, he wasn't sure if he was going to get sick or grin goofily.

"I thought you were supposed to be naked and thinking of my reward?" He asked, lazily leaning against the closed door.

Hermione looked up at him, and he immediately knew something was wrong. His grin faltered. "What is it?"

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She tried again, but still, she couldn't find words. Instead, tears stung at her eyes and she kept letting out some sort of high-pitch crying sound until suddenly her body shook with full-blown sobs. Harry's arms were wrapped tightly around her as he sunk to his knees on the mattress beside her. "Hermione, you're scaring me. What is it? Did something happen?"

She shook her head and just continued to cry. She didn't know why, but with everything, she found she couldn't hold it in any longer. She broke down and bawled into Harry's sweaty neck, clinging to his body. "I'm just s-s-so s-s-scared about what is g-g-going to hap-ppen." She choked through her hiccups.

"Hermione…baby…please…don't cry. You know I can't handle seeing you cry." Harry said, feeling his heart go out to her. He hated watching this beautiful girl break down. Her fingers clawed at his back as she scrambled into his lap, pressing ever tighter against him.

Regaining a little composure, she was able to get out a few more words, "I just don't want anything to happen to you, or my parents, or our friends…but there are no promises and we aren't any closer to finding anything about Voldemort and I…I just don't know what I can do to help and…and…what if we don't win? What if something happens?" Her words were coming out fast now, and Harry could barely understand them.

He had his own fears including the ones Hermione was recounting. He just held her, and waited for her tears to stop. Finally, she grew quiet and her grip loosened somewhat. "Don't think like that, Hermione. We're going to win this, and nothing is going to happen to anyone." He promised, knowing he had no control over that but he was going to try like hell to make sure the words come true. "We're fighting, Hermione. We're fighting, and we're going to win this. We have more to fight for." He said, pulling her away to look her square in the eye. "I won't lose you. I won't lose my parents, or yours. Or my friends." He vowed, trying to make her believe his words.

Hermione didn't know what to say. She didn't know what had come over here. Harry had come in at the worst possible moment. She had just been thinking about the implications of Voldemort winning, about what would happen, and before she knew it, she was in tears. Sobering up, Hermione responded with a nod, "We're in this together, right? Together." She repeated.

Harry nodded. "Together."

"I…I think I need a nap." Hermione said, dazed.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You've only just woke up."

Hermione shrugged. "I didn't sleep well last night."

Harry nodded. "Then let's take a nap. Don't worry-I'll watch over you. You don't need to worry about anything." He said, stretching her out and tucking her in. "Dream only good dreams. I don't want you thinking about stuff like this." He whispered in her ear before kissing her forehead softly.

Hermione was too exhausted to respond. She watched as Harry undressed from his sweaty clothes and toweled himself off for the most part. He slipped on a pair of pajama pants, and lay down beside her. She felt fatigue instantly overcome her as she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Watching Hermione break down had been terrifying, and it brought his own fears to the surface. Fears he had been battling over for weeks. He had made the right decision, keeping his nightmares from Hermione. She worried enough as it was.

* * *

Despite the lies that you're making
Your love is mine for the taking
My love is just waiting
To turn your tears to roses

"Whispers in the Dark" SKILLET

* * *

Hermione was quiet all day. She felt foolish for her breakdown. She would not show such weakness again. She went on a run with Harry and Ron without a fuss-Draco had to work. She cooked dinner. She was on auto-pilot. Harry noticed, but said nothing, understanding that there was nothing to say. Her breakdown had scared him-it had scared even her. The very thought of losing was too much for her to take. Losing her parents, Harry, her friends…the life she had made.

And Voldemort had a trick or two up his sleeve that he wouldn't share with Snape, therefore the Order was in the dark on that front. The Order itself was growing, but not nearly fast enough. The attack from the Death Eaters had shown that-Voldemort was more organized than the Order, and it gave him the edge.

Something had to be done, but she didn't know what. Harry wasn't ready to face him-none of them were. Word needed to be spread, and believed. More needed to devote themselves to the Order. They all needed to take action-she needed to take action. She felt like she wasn't helping at all. Harry was training, Snape was acting spy for Dumbledore and risking his life doing so, everyone at Headquarters was doing whatever they could. She had never even been to Headquarters. In this fight, she felt useless. She may as well be against them for all the help she was worth. And in that thought, she found her possible answer.

We're flirtin' with disaster ya'll damn sure know what I mean.
You know the way we run our lives it makes no sense to me
I don't know about yourself or what you plan to be, yeah
When we gamble with our time we choose our destiny

"Flirtin' With Disaster" MOLLY HACHET

Well, that's that! Hope you all liked/loved/didn't hate it. Just want to say, before being start flying with things in this chapter that might not exactly add up to canon…there are a few assumptions being made, not necessarily true, not necessarily untrue either, so you'll just have to see! PLEASE review. Takes like two seconds. I love them. I look for them all the time. I'm a little pathetic like that, so make my day and tell me what you think! I have it figured out, I think this story will have eleven chapters maybe…there are three BIG places for it to end, but if it ends where I'm planning at the moment, I think I came up with eleven. I mapped it out on notebook paper-yeah, I got that serious with it. I mean business! Ha!

Just realized I spent almost 3 hours editing/dozing off/lyrics/author's note on this. I have no life.

REVIEW!

Until next time (WHICH COULD BE VERY SOON BECAUSE I ALREADY HAVE A LOT OF THE NEXT CHAPTER DONE IF I GET ENOUGH MOTIVATION TO FINISH IT!),

*~Archie~*

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