To Dwell on Dreams

"... oh, you should hear some of the things she's said to the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney! Did you ever take Divination with her?" asked Hermione, hoping she sounded offhand.

"Mm, I don't think she was there then, and I never took Divination ... but I can imagine what McGonagall might tell a teacher she doesn't respect. McGonagall was definitely the best..." Jane sighed reminiscently.

How long had Professor McGonagall been teaching, again? Thirty-nine years ... and when Umbridge had tried to sack Trelawney, Trelawney had screeched something about being at Hogwarts for sixteen years ... so, judging by the numbers, Jane could have easily been Harry's mother. Hermione smiled triumphantly. Now she just had to check a couple more things.

"Erm, I've been wondering. I hope this isn't a sensitive question, but ... did you die while you were at Hogwarts?"

Jane turned sharply to her. "How old do I look?"

"Oh, I don't know ... I thought maybe you ... well, I was just being stupid - but - but people always say Hogwarts is the safest place anyone can be, right?" Hermione fervently hoped she didn't sound suspicious. Jane scrutinized her for a moment.

"You're right, I wasn't at Hogwarts. I don't think Professor Dumbledore would ever let anyone at Hogwarts come to harm."

"But where did you stay, if your parents were dead?"

"By then my sister was old enough to have a place of her own," said Jane airily.

"Your sister saw you die?"

"N-no, but - er, can we talk about something else? Only that I'm not too thrilled to relive my death, you know ..."

"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Hermione, wondering guiltily if that excuse were partly true. "I'm sorry."

"For example, now that you've sort of made up with your best friends" - Hermione looked indignant - "well honestly, you didn't even apologize to both of them properly - I was curious, what is it like having guys as your best friends?"

That was Hermione's cue to launch a tirade about everything from being made a "scarlet woman" by Rita Skeeter to having to listen about Quidditch all the time; Jane started to snort with laughter when Hermione got to the bit about Ron and Harry being too thick to understand how other people thought. Hermione rounded on her.

"I'm serious!" she protested. "Sometimes I wish Parvati and Lavender - those are the Gryffindor girls in my year - were a bit less girly, and Ron and Harry a bit more so!"

"A bit more girly?" Jane repeated, giggling all the harder. "You know, you really shouldn't expect so much from your friends ... even your best friends ..."

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms, glaring as Jane shook with spasms of laughter. "Well, you yourself called the boys in your year 'terrors.'"

"They were," insisted Jane, "but not because they were - ha ha - too - manly -"

Hermione grabbed a nearby cushion and hurled it at Jane, who hit it back. The rest of the night was spent in similar fashion, concluding only when Hermione's eyes would no longer stay open.

It was lucky for Hermione that she had enjoyed Jane's company so much that night. The next day made up for it.

"Morning," she greeted Ron and Harry briskly, sitting down at the table. She immediately busied herself with breakfast. After a few seconds, however, she noticed that neither of the boys had said a word. She eyed them in turn; both boys' lowered faces looked furious.

"What's the matter with you two?"

"Why did you faint yesterday?" asked Harry sharply.

Hermione, who was reaching for an omelet, stopped moving abruptly. Had she fainted? Now she remembered ... it was right after she had realized that Jane was Harry's mother. But that wasn't something she would tell Harry.

"I don't know," she answered tersely.

"Well," said Ron, who was finally looking her in the face, "you said it was because of Harry's eyes."

"I - I said that?"

"Is that the reason? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think Harry's eyes normally make you fall over unconscious."

Hermione remained silent.

"Well, is it?" Ron repeated, more forcefully.

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because you and Harry refuse to tell me anything! What kind of friends are you, anyway?"

"Ha!" cried Hermione triumphantly, pointing a finger at Ron. "Listen to that! That is exactly what I was saying before, take that, you hypocritical -"

"Don't try to change the topic!"

Hermione shook her head and dropped an omelet onto her plate. "I don't believe it," she muttered, chopping the omelet viciously. "Another row - once a week just isn't good enough, is it? ... What happened to you both, after I went to bed?"

"I don't know, ask him," Harry said, jerking his head towards Ron, "but you'd better tell us why you really fainted, before Ron starts thinking I knocked you out with a club in the middle of a room full of people!"

Hermione turned to Ron, who was glaring murderously at Harry.

"What is going on?" she demanded again. "I passed out for a minute or two, it's as simple as that. Maybe I've been working too hard. Maybe I haven't been eating. It's up to you - pick a cause that suits you, because there are some things I consider private, all right?"

"Private, indeed," snarled Ron, getting up and marching away from the table. Harry looked like he was ready to follow suit, but before leaving, he turned to Hermione.

"I would keep talking to you," he said in a loud carrying voice, "except Ron's afraid I'll smash your skull while his back's turned - or worse, actually have a conversation with you without him knowing all about it."

He stalked out of the Great Hall. Hermione faced her omelet again, which had been mercilessly sliced into countless tiny pieces - Did I do that? she wondered briefly. She speared a piece and lifted it, but it flopped off before it had reached her mouth. Perfect, she thought bitterly.

As usual, homework came to the rescue on what would otherwise have been a very miserable day. The library welcomed Hermione with open arms, even if Madam Pince did not. She settled into a corner and remained there until 9 o'clock, though this time she remembered to go to lunch and dinner; luckily Ginny seemed to be taking a break from Dean's company, so she wasn't alone.

Nevertheless, by the time she hopped off Mister at Jane's cabin, she was very ready to start on a long rant about the unfairness of life in general. But the sight of Jane, who looked rather edgy, checked that urge.

"Hey," said Jane, smiling weakly and sweeping her toes nervously against the floor. She was standing in the front room today, instead of practicing the piano or reading. Mister made himself scarce.

"Is there something the matter?" Hermione asked, with much more concern than she had shown Ron and Harry that morning.

"No," sighed Jane, still smiling feebly, "but I have something to tell you."

"That's funny. I have something to tell you too." Though, on second thoughts, she realized, Jane might not be too proud of me for it.

Jane looked as if she was considering the matter for a moment. Then she said, "Sure, out with it."

"Should we go in?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot, sorry." She grinned. "What kind of a hostess am I." They headed into the next room and settled themselves back on the usual couch.

"I'm really confused," began Hermione. "Now, Ron and Harry aren't speaking to me again" - Jane raised her eyebrows - "but I don't think they're speaking to each other, either. Which isn't terribly good for anyone."

"Why, what happened?"

"I don't know, but it had something to do with me passing out last night."

"You passed out? Why? You've started eating again, haven't you? Haven't you?" she repeated more emphatically.

"Of course I have," Hermione said shortly. But how long could she refrain from answering the first question? It was only fair that she told Jane the truth; it involved Jane, after all. She sucked in her breath. "It's because I was talking to Harry, and then I noticed - I noticed how similar his eyes were to yours," she finished quietly. There was a pause.

"And?" said Jane finally, her eyes wide with comprehension.

"You're Harry's mum, aren't you?"

To her surprise, Jane's face burst into a relieved grin.

"Yes, yes, you're right. I'm Lily Potter. Do you know, that saves me a lot of discomfort today. So you've known all along who I was -"

"Not all along," Hermione protested. "Just these two times."

"Well, that's good enough, because I've been feeling a bit uneasy about calling myself 'Jane Smith' all this time ... even if I was just following the rules ..."

"Rules?"

"Everyone gets a page of rules about the business, and we're supposed to keep them until the time comes. A lot of people lose them before it's their turn, but I got my turn early, just as I requested the Ministry." She paused for breath, and looked appraisingly at Hermione's bewildered expression. "That didn't make a jot of sense, did it."

"Not actually," Hermione admitted. "Could you start from the beginning, please?"

"Of course. Now, I've sort of rehearsed this, but I might still leave out bits and pieces by accident. I mean, I've been dead these fifteen years or so, and there are some things that may appear obvious to me that will sound like complete rubbish to you. Just - just interrupt me if you don't get something, OK?"

Hermione nodded; Jane continued.

"You see, every witch or wizard who dies and doesn't become a ghost - and most of us don't, you know how the Hogwarts ghosts are always whining about it - anyways, the truly dead witches and wizards just go onto a sort of afterlife. It's a poor imitation of life, with no magic or colors or too many frills; still, it's quite all right, and I'm loads happier now than I was in the last few years of my life. I don't know a single dead person who isn't content, actually. But back to the point. Now, the Ministry up here, which, I can assure you, is much more effective than your Ministry of Magic, divides witches and wizards into different categories. I happen to be in the category of 'people whose lives were cut short for no good reason.'"

"In your case, being killed by Voldemort?"

"Exactly. And the Ministry thinks that's rather unfair, as I believe most people do, so they've devised a system that allows every one of us to form an unbreakable bond with a living person at some point in eternity. And that's especially useful because many of us had goals we didn't finish during life. The Ministry handles everyone's requests, and they try to pair up people based on how similar their personalities are."

"Wait. Are you saying that I'm the living person who's the most similar to you, ever?"

"Not quite," Jane corrected her, "because the Ministry also takes into account how useful the two people will be to each other."

Hermione considered that point. Had Jane been useful to her yet? Not really, but - she was a great friend. As for her own usefulness to Lily Potter, Hermione was one of the two people closest to Lily's son.

"Picking people with similar personalities is also important," Jane explained, "because this bond has to be created within four days. Five, if you count the last day, when we explain it all, like I'm explaining it to you. That sounds like a really short time to get to know someone, but the Ministry's pretty good with choosing people who will click. I mean, I think we've done pretty well" - she looked apprehensively at Hermione, who nodded and smiled shyly - "and out of the billions of people who have done this in the past, only seventeen actually botched up the process badly. The Ministry took full responsibility for it, though, so they all got second chances."

"Sorry to butt in, but - where are all of these dead people? It looks like you're the only one around here."

Jane smiled.

"I am. But that's because you're not really seeing Lily Potter. I'm just a vision, left on the living earth to meet you whenever you are ready. That's why I appear to you as your own age."

"But ..."

"The Ministry gives all witches and wizards that died untimely deaths limited control over two bodies. So right now, in the afterlife, I'm actually sipping a cup of Earl Grey tea. That doesn't require too much concentration. The rest of my attention is focused on telling you what's been going on."

Hermione stared blankly at Jane, trying to sort it out. "So ... you're in two different places at once, doing two different things, as long as you don't need to think too hard in both of them ..."

"That's right, but my two existences are more independent than you might think. They were both created at the time of my death, but they have lived separate lives since then - that's why Sirius's death came as a shock to me, on that first day. Of course I've already met Sirius, but my existence here didn't know that - not until later, when I realized that I had finally met you, and I made sure to concentrate on being Jane during the rest of our talks. That sounds like gibberish, but you have to experience it to know what it's really like."

Hermione let it sink in before voicing her next question. "And ... because you, as Jane, are not in the afterworld, your eyes are still green, and you can do magic ..."

"Well, yeah," said Jane, shifting uncomfortably for some reason.

"But if you're on the living earth, can't I find you while I'm awake?"

Jane shook her head slowly. "This log cabin is on an unmapped part of the world that you could never find by yourself - you have to be taken there in your sleep by someone like Mister." The giant otter, upon hearing his name, padded over to the couch and flopped down at their feet.

"But I'll keep seeing you in my dreams, then?" asked Hermione uncertainly.

"No," said Jane quietly. Hermione's heart sank. "It ends after tonight ... but we'll meet again whenever one of us is truly in need of the other. We might never meet again, if we're - lucky. Or maybe we'll meet just one more time. But we will never again see each other for five days at a time, like we just have, until after you die, when we're in the same world."

Hermione swallowed, feeling suddenly a bit lost. She absent-mindedly stroked Mister's fur.

"From what I've seen of you," Jane added, "I gather that we'll both miss each other. I'll miss you a lot, for sure. But there was something Professor Dumbledore told me once - he must have told it to everyone who's ever seen that enchanted mirror - I believe he said, 'It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.' And I know you've been getting into a lot of squabbles with the people you care about most, but ... that's your life, you can't change it, and there are so many good things about it, even if you don't notice them all the time. Nobody should depend on dreams for happiness."

Both girls lapsed into thought. Finally Jane broke the silence:

"Have I explained everything?"

Hermione nodded numbly, hoping that this wasn't the end. It couldn't be. Jane couldn't disappear from her life, just like that!

Jane lowered her eyes. After a minute of awkward silence, she looked up. "And now I need to ask of you a - a favor."

Anything to keep the end from coming, Hermione thought to herself. "What is it?"

"I swear I won't do anything without your express permission, but what you told us - what you told me two days ago, about Ginny Weasley and - the Dark Lord ... it gave me an idea. But I swear I won't do it if you won't let me."

"What do you want to do?" asked Hermione, wondering what could make Jane so ill at ease.

"Well, this is my last chance to do it. At least for a while."

She took a deep breath.

"I'd like to see my son again."