Dessert Anyone?

    He watched her fall to the floor. An expression slowly reached his face. It was a heartbroken stare. And it would have been interpreted as this if he had had the right person watching him at the time. But he did not have this perfect individual looking at him. So his look was interpreted as an ice cold glare. "Dream well, Hermione," Harry said, and then added softly, "I'm sorry."

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    "Ron! Ron!" she woke up screaming.

    "Hermione, Hermione, it's okay. You're going to be all right, Chocolate Eyes," replied Harry, trying to calm her by brushing her auburn hair behind her ear with his long fingers.

    "Where's Ron?" she demanded without hesitation, pushing his hand away from her face.

    Harry stared at her. So, she doesn't remember last night. "Hermione, Ron is… dead."

    "What?!" she exclaimed, as her eyes widened. But suddenly every small, little detail from the battle the night before came rushing back. She sunk back into the pillows she had been sleeping on earlier.

    "Hermione?"

    Just as fast as she had remembered the events from the last night, she threw off the sheets that were tucked in around her, stood up, and began to undress.

    "Hermione?! What are you doing?! Get back in bed! Stop striping!" Harry yelled. He stood up when she didn't obey, "Hermione!" He grabbed her arm.

    "Harry, let go of me!" she screamed right back at him, flinging her arm to force him to release it.

    "Hermione, you are in no condition to be leaving, right now," said a firm voice behind Hermione.

    "Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione answered the voice. "I'm sorry, but I have to go."

    "Well it does not matter if you want to or if you have to, you're not going," Harry replied for the nurse.

    "You're starting to sound like me, Harry," Madam Pomfrey told to him.

    "It's all those weeks I spent in here," he laughed.

    She smiled at him. "Those were younger days," she stated. "I miss those days." Her smile faded.

    While her two old friends were catching up, Hermione had dressed and snuck out the side of the curtain that was still hung open from the aged woman slipping in.

    "Hermione?" Harry looked around him for the young woman. "Where'd she go?" he all of a sudden became serious, his eyes wide and staring at Madam Pomfrey, almost daring her to answer. "We've got to find her, before she does something foolish."

    "What's wrong with her?" asked the witch, surprised at Harry's haste.

    "Ron," was his single word answer. It was all the nurse needed to know what had happened.

    They both grabbed there jackets and headed out the door of the infirmary into the hallway.

    Hermione ran through the corridors, turning the familiar corners and passing through memorable doorways and under recognized arches, each one shrieking at her, threatening her, not in words, but in the sounds echoing in her ears from the whipping air. I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!!!! she screamed at herself in her own head. This…this…is just too familiar! I have to leave. I have to GET OUT!!! She ran faster, faster, faster, faster, faster, faster, faster…

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    She awoke from her dreaming to darkness, complete darkness.

    "Thank you mister Potter. That will be all, for now."

    He walked steadily toward the wall opposite the desk at which The Dark Lord, himself, sat. But, before he made it to the secret hatch which he was meant to pull to open the restricted passageway to leave the underground mansion, he turned back around.

    "Sir?" he said.

    As the high-back, leather chair rotated to face him, an annoyed, angered expression came onto the snake-like face. "What?" it asked.

    Harry hesitated, but pulled up his courage and said it. "I didn't lie. About loving her. I still do," he said, and gulped.

    "Does it look like I care?" Voldemort asked daringly.

    "No, sir. Sorry, sir." I'm such an idiot, he said to himself, turning back.

    "Don't be so kind to yourself, mister Potter. You're more than an idiot."

    Harry took a long breath or air inside his lungs so he would not snap back at his boss, like he wanted to. Stupid mind readers, he thought. Behind him, Voldemort smirked.