It Was Only a Dream

The classroom was deathly quiet. No one moved or made a sound. Hermione stared up at Professor McGonagall in shock, the piece of parchment dangling forgotten in her hand. “I’ve never gotten an F in my life. There must be some mistake,” she stuttered, dazed and confused.

“There is no mistake young lady. I am gravely disappointed in you, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall replied.

“But I worked on that report for two months. I spent hours in the library doing research.

I poured my heart and soul into it, didn’t I, Harry?” Hermione turned to her best friend of the six years, who was standing beside her, for support. “Tell her that I didn’t plagiarize that report. Tell her, Harry.” Hermione grasped Harry’s arm in a tight grip, her eyes silently begging him for corroboration.

“I’m sorry Hermione, but I can’t lie to the Professor. You told Ron and me just last week that you hadn’t finished your report and that you were going to copy from that encyclopedia. You said McGonagall was too dumb to ever notice.” Harry shook his head regretfully at Hermione.

Professor McGonagall sent a baleful glare in Hermione’s direction. She dropped her hand from Harry’s arm as if she had been burned, backing a few steps away from him as she did so. In fact, it felt like her heart had been burned out of her chest or her brain from her head. She felt that hurt and confused. Never in all of her life would she have thought that Harry would have turned on her. He had been her friend through good and bad times. More than once he had saved her just as she had saved him. Now Harry was standing in their classroom telling their teacher an outright lie about her.

Tears welling up in her eyes, Hermione started to shake her head from side to side. This couldn’t be happening. She turned pleading eyes toward Professor McGonagall, only to meet a severe, almost unforgiving face. She glanced around the room, looking into the faces of her classmates. Flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, Draco Malfoy stood there with a satisfied smirk on his face, an “I’m glad you’re finally getting yours” look. Ron, standing close by, looked sympathetic. Then she glanced wildly back at Harry, casting him a wounded look, not believing it was really her friend standing there who had, in effect, just called her a liar in front of all their classmates.

‘I’m afraid, Miss Granger, that this means at the very least that you will fail your sixth year at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall began. At the very worst, it could mean your expulsion. Plagiarism is an extremely serious offense. We’ll have to bring this to Professor Dumbledore’s attention immediately.”

“But I didn’t do it. I swear.” Hermione turned desperately to Harry, who was standing with arms crossed and a look of sympathy on his face. “Harry, please tell Professor McGonagall the truth. Please Harry. You have to help me. Please Harry, please… please…please…..”

The words echoing in her mind, Hermione sat bolt uptight in bed, breathing labored and tears streaming down her face. With a shaking hand, she reached over to turn on the light on the bedside table. “Why would I have dreamed that?” Hermione thought to herself as she wiped at the moisture on her face. “Harry would never lie about me….never betray me like that. Why would that have crossed my mind, even in a dream?”

Lying back onto her pillows, hands covering her face, kneading the place between her eyes, which had begun, throbbing, Hermione made a conscious effort to slow her breathing. It was still coming in gasps and hitches. “Okay, Ms. Logical, you know that was just a nightmare. There is no basis in fact for that ever happening. Reason it out. First, you would never have had to copy words from a book to write a report. You know more than enough words of your own. And you are much too intelligent to have to do that. Second, and much more importantly, Harry would never betray you. Never. Ergo, it was just a nightmare. Probably shouldn’t have eaten that second pumpkin pasty right before bedtime. That’ll teach you.”

Her breathing beginning to slow, Hermione turned over on her side, pulled her pillow into her arms and hugged it tightly to her chest. “Repeat to yourself,” Hermione whispered, “It was only a dream. It was only a dream.” Closing her eyes, she repeated the phrase over and over and over. But still, sleep was a long time coming.

* * * * *

Walking into the Gryffindor common room the next morning, Hermione cast bleary eyes around the room in search of her two best friends, Ron and Harry. Finding them ensconced in chairs close to the fireplace enthralled in a game of Wizard’s chess, she walked over to them and offered a cheerless, “Good morning.”

Harry looked up at Hermione but Ron didn’t take his eyes off the chessboard as he said, “Well it’s about time, Hermione, much longer and we would have gone down to breakfast without you.”

“Yes, and you know how Ron doesn’t like to miss an opportunity to eat,” quipped Harry.

“Sorry. I overslept,” Hermione replied.

That’s okay,” Ron grinned. “Checkmate. You gave me just enough time to beat Harry once again.”

Harry groaned, “Why do I even bother playing with you. I never seem to win.”

“Too true, but never let it be said that Harry Potter isn’t up to a challenge.” Ron sent a decidedly mischievous grin in Harry’s direction.

“Come on boys or we’re going to miss breakfast altogether,” Hermione smiled, her mood improving slightly due to her friend’s banter.

But as the trio made their way down to the Great Hall, she couldn’t quite dispel the feeling of dread that had been lodged firmly in the pit of her stomach since she had awoken from her dream the previous night.

* * * * *

Later that day, the three friends sat at a table in the corner of the Gryffindor common room working on their end of term reports. “Hello. Hermione. Are you in there?” Ron snapped his fingers repeatedly in front of Hermione’s face, trying to gain her attention.

“What, oh, did you say something to me Ron?” Hermione asked, perplexed.

“Yeah, for the last five minutes. Harry’s been trying to get you to answer his question about that spell we’re supposed to memorize,” Ron replied in exasperation.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?” Harry asked in a soft voice. “You didn’t raise your hand at even one question that Snape asked in Potions class today. And the way you are looking at that book and writing furiously, you’d think you were copying it or something,” Harry said with a smile in his voice.

Hermione leapt up from her seat at the table and rounded on Harry. “How dare you accuse me of cheating, Harry Potter. I thought you were my friend. Don’t you know me any better than to think I would plagiarize my report?” Hermione finished, her eyes flashing fire in Harry’s direction.

Harry stood slowly looking over at Ron as he did so as if asking for help in understanding Hermione’s sudden outburst. Ron just shrugged his shoulders, a confused look in his eyes, for once at a loss for a quick quip to defuse the situation.

“Hermione,” Harry began tentatively, walking around the table to stand in front of her. “I didn’t mean to imply that you would cheat. I know better than that. I was kidding, really. I’m so sorry that I made you mad.”

Sniffing back the tears that were threatening to fall, Hermione gazed up at Harry, all the anger gone, replaced instead with a feeling of supreme sadness and confusion. “I…I,” Hermione shook her head and turned and fled through the portrait hole, barely waiting for it to open wide enough to allow her to leave.

“What the bloody hell just happened?” Ron asked in total bewilderment.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied in a dazed tone, “but I guess I better try and find out.” Harry turned and slowly followed Hermione’s path through the portrait hole.

* * * * *

After searching the entire castle for Hermione without success, Harry had gone back to his room to don his cloak to begin a search of the grounds. He made a quick stop at Hagrid’s hut, found out she wasn’t there, and declined Hagrid’s offer to help search. Harry finally found her sitting on the edge of the fountain in the outer courtyard, shivering.

“For an usually intelligent person, it wasn’t very smart of you to run out of the castle without a cloak in the dead of winter, Hermione,” Harry smiled down at her, relieved to have finally found her, cold, but safe and unharmed. He didn’t pause long enough to analyze the feeling of immense relief that was washing over him in waves.

“Here, take this,” he said, shrugging out of his heavy cloak and wrapping it securely around Hermione’s shoulders. Harry was more than a bit surprised when she snuggled down into the arms he’d wrapped around her.

“Care to tell me what’s wrong?” Harry asked as he briskly rubbed his hands up and down Hermione’s arms to try and generate warmth into her frozen limbs.

“I had a dream. A nightmare, really,” Hermione’s muffled reply came from somewhere in the vicinity of Harry’s chest, where her head rested. “I got an F on a report in McGonagall’s class.”

Harry’s hands ceased their motions and instead gripped her upper arms and pulled her out so he could see her face. “All of this because of a dream that you received a F on a report?” Harry asked incredulously. “Isn’t that a bit extreme, even for you, Hermione?”

Hermione’s warm brown eyes gazed into Harry’s vivid green ones so intensely that he felt his stomach clench in anticipation of what was to come. “It wasn’t the bad grade that made it a nightmare, Harry. It was the fact that you told McGonagall that you knew I had cheated. You lied about me Harry, to a teacher. And it wasn’t to protect me… it was to get me in trouble,” Hermione finished with a catch in her voice.

Harry sat there dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to say. It was after all only a dream. The Hermione that he knew, the one that had been his best friend almost from the beginning, should have known that he would never betray her. Lie for her, yes. But never about her. He tried to reason with her practical side, instead of the side that seemed to be terrified of the dream.

“Hermione,” he said softly, “you know that I would never do that. It was only a dream. Not real. Don’t you know me better than that?” Harry asked, a hurt tone in his voice, not realizing that he had grasped Hermione’s arms tighter while he spoke until he saw her wince slightly. He immediately released her arms and instead moved his gloved hands up to cup her face. Hermione looked up at him with eyes full of trust, and unless he was mistaken, love. It nearly stole his breath away. A white-hot heat shot down to the pit of his stomach, further hampering his ability to breathe. As Hermione continued to stare intently into his vivid green eyes, Harry knew he was about to kiss her. He wasn’t sure if it was a conscious decision, he only knew that there was nothing in the world that he had ever wanted to do more, not catch that blasted Snitch or win the House Cup for Gryffindor. Lowering his head and closing his eyes, he caught her lips with his, applying a slight pressure. As he began to tentatively explore her lips with his, he was caught totally off guard as she ran her tongue across his lips, seeking entrance. With a groan, he allowed her entrance and pulled her tighter as she began to explore the recesses of his mouth. Then he began to return the favor. When they pulled apart, Harry was supremely glad that they were still seated. He didn’t think his legs would have supported him otherwise. He rested his forehead against Hermione’s, trying desperately to catch his breath, a bit gratified to hear that Hermione’s breathing was no less labored.

When her breathing had returned to some semblance of normalcy, Hermione looked into Harry’s slightly awestruck face and smiled. “Yes Harry. I do know you and I trust you. That’s what made it such a nightmare, to think that you would betray me like that.”

Harry dropped his hands from where they still cradled Hermione’s face. And instead grasped her numb gloveless hands. Becoming aware of the fact they were still sitting outside in the snow, Harry pulled her to her feet, suddenly a little shy about what had transpired between them. “Let’s go inside before we both freeze to death. We’ll figure out how to overcome your dream together.” Hermione squeezed his hand slightly in response as Harry lead her back to the warmth of the castle.

* * * * *

Back in the common room, curled into a chair by a roaring fire, Hermione snuggled under a scarlet and gold quilt, while Ron and Harry paced back and forth in front of her watching her every move, wincing with every sniffle.

“You’ve probably caught your death of cold, running out into the snow like that with no cloak,” Ron admonished for at least the fifth time.

Raising the mug of warm Butterbeer she had cupped in her hands to her mouth for another sip, Hermione cast an apprehensive look over the rim in Harry’s direction. He hadn’t said two complete sentences to her since bringing her in and settling her under the quilt by the fire. He simply kept pacing and throwing glances at her over his shoulders, his green eyes unfathomable. Her nerves already nearing the breaking point from the combination of her dream and what had transpired between she and Harry outside, Hermione set the mug down with a thud and rose from her chair. Wrapping the quilt around her, she announced, “I’m going to bed.” With no more than an annoyed glance in Ron’s direction, a worried one in Harry’s, she swept from the room like a queen leaving her subjects to stutter in her wake.

“Well are you going to tell me what happened between you two outside?” Ron asked, taking the chair that Hermione had just vacated.

“How do you know something happened between us,” Harry stuttered, a flush tingeing his cheeks that had nothing to do with the warmth of the fire.

“I mean, did she tell you why she threw such a fit before and stormed out into then night,” Ron replied. “Or did something else happen that I should know about?”

“No, nothing else happened,” Harry replied quickly, turning away from Ron so that he wouldn’t see the guilt written in his eyes. Ron was his best friend in all the world and Harry didn’t like keeping things from him. But what had happened between he and Hermione was too special and too scary to talk to Ron about yet. He didn’t know when, or if, he would be ready to share those details.

“She just told me what had made her so upset earlier,” Harry finally turned back to face Ron.

And that was…?” Ron questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Hermione had a bad dream. She dreamed she got an F on a report in McGonagall’s class. She..” Before Harry could finish his sentence, Ron sputtered, choking on the mug of Butterbeer he had picked up to drink.

“Hermione got a F on a report. No wonder she went off the deep end, that’s a bloody nightmare as far as she’s concerned. Her worst fear come true,” Ron wiped at the tears that had formed when he had nearly choked, but he couldn’t wipe away the merriment that shone from his blue eyes.

“It isn’t funny, Ron, and it was more than just the bad grade that made her upset,” Harry admonished Ron with a frown. “She also dreamed that I told McGonagall that she had cheated and plagiarized her report.”

“Wow, I can see why she was upset. Wonder why’d she dream that and what are you going to do about it?” Ron questioned.

“I don’t know,” Harry ran his fingers through his unkempt dark hair in a sign of frustration, looking toward the staircase where Hermione had made her stormy exit. “I wish I did.”

* * * * *

After donning her pajamas, Hermione climbed into bed and released the heavy velvet drapes to effectively block out the rest of the world or at the very least, her roommates. “It was only a dream,” Hermione picked up the refrain of the previous night. But if it was only a dream, why did it still bother her so much? That just wasn’t practical. And if Hermione Granger was anything, it was practical. “Just because I had that dream last night does not necessarily mean that I will dream it again tonight,” Hermione tried to reason with herself.

Picking up the book she had been reading earlier, she reached for her wand and whispered “Lumos.” Maybe a little light reading would help calm her nerves enough to fall asleep, although most people would not consider the thousand page tome entitled Poisonous Plants to be Used in Potions light reading. After reading the same page three times without remembering a word, and still no closer to sleeping, Hermione slammed the book closed in disgust, wincing at the loud noise it made in the otherwise silent bedchamber.

If the truth be known, it was not simply the fear of another nightmare that kept sleep at bay, but the memory of the kiss that she and Harry shared earlier that evening. Just remembering the way his lips had caressed her own sent a warm feeling coursing through her veins. “Admit it, Hermione. There have been times this past year when you have looked at Harry Potter and seen more than just your friend. He’s got that killer smile that seems to light up his whole face….and those beautiful green eyes that change from sea to forest green depending on his mood. Okay and let’s be honest with yourself, the interest he showed in Cho, well that caused more than one twinge of jealously to tighten knots in your stomach,” Hermione thought grimly.

Extinguishing the light from her wand with a softly whispered, “Nox,” Hermione pulled the covers up around her shoulders and waited for sleep to claim her. After counting what seemed like a thousand owls flying over the wall, she finally succumbed to sleep only to be awakened by the same dream from the previous night with one frightening difference. This time Harry didn’t even pretend regret when he lied about her to Professor McGonagall.

“But I didn’t do it. I swear.” Hermione turned desperately to Harry, who was standing with arms crossed and a look of disdain on his face. “Harry, please tell Professor McGonagall the truth. Please Harry. You have to help me, please, please, please…”

Harry turned to the Professor, “I don’t know why she would think I would lie for her, we were never that good of friends.”

Tears now spilling unchecked down Hermione’s cheeks, she looked desperately around the silent room searching for any sign of sympathy. Finding none, she resolutely squared her shoulders, wiped angrily at the tears and cast one last look in Harry’s direction…

Suddenly the dream shifted, she was seated on the edge of the fountain, Harry sitting in front of her, his hands holding hers. But instead of the look of awe that Harry had worn earlier that day after they‘d kissed, it was replaced by a look of satisfaction.

“I told Ron that you’d be easy. One kiss and you’re already all over me.”

“What?” Hermione questioned in shock. “My Harry would never say that.”

“Face it babe, who’d want an average looking, bushy headed bookworm like you? Do you honestly think that the famous Harry Potter would be interested in you? Only in your dreams.”

Hermione jerked her hands from Harry‘s, stumbled to her feet and ran for the castle as if pursued by the hounds of Hell itself, “No, you’re not my Harry, not my Harry, not my Harry…”

Hermione awoke with a start, heart racing and throat clogged with tears. “Why am I dreaming these things? Harry would never act that way. What does it mean? It’s almost like my worst fears coming true.” Burying her face in her pillow, Hermione sobbed out her hurt and confusion until all the tears were spent and all that was left were unanswered questions.

* * * * *

When Hermione didn’t show up for breakfast the following morning and then missed her first class, an almost unheard of occurrence, Harry and Ron decided to take action. Failing to find Hermione in her dorm room, Harry thought it best if he and Ron split up to search for her. Putting on his cloak and gloves, Harry began a search of the grounds as Ron began a systematic search inside the school.

Ron didn’t have far to look. As he pushed open the door to the unused second floor girl’s bathroom, he slumped against the doorframe in relief when he heard Hermione’s voice. “She must be in a bathroom stall talking to herself. No, Moaning Myrtle,” Ron thought with a huge grin when he heard another voice answer Hermione. Ron quietly closed the door and leaned back against the wall to listen. He should have come here the very first thing. He had been extremely surprised the previous day when Hermione had fled outside. Over the years whenever Hermione had been upset about something, she had gone to the girl’s bathroom to hide out. So she was back to old patterns now. In fact, it had been an incident with a mountain troll in their first year in the first floor girl’s bathroom that had cemented the friendship that he, Hermione and Harry now shared. Drawing his mind back from his musings, he tried to focus on the conversation at hand.

“Myrtle, I know Harry would never behave that way in real life, so why I am letting a silly dream control my life and how I feel about him?” Hermione asked, tears clogging her voice. “The dream is like my worst fears coming true. It brings to mind all my old insecurities, of failing in school and of no one liking me.”

Myrtle, always close to tears herself, replied “ I can understand the bad grades upsetting you, but what’s the deal with Harry? I thought the two of you were just friends.”

“We are friends. Harry’s my best friend. But lately, I’ve started thinking of him as more.” Hermione hesitated, “He kissed me yesterday.”

“He what?” Ron blurted out, then clamped a hand over his mouth, afraid he’d given his presence away. But apparently Hermione and Myrtle had not heard him since Myrtle continued, “Really, I always thought you’d end up with that Ron fellow.”

Hermione smiled at that, “Well there was a time when Ron and I thought that too.”

“Do tell,” Myrtle exclaimed, all pretense of tears gone.

“During fourth year, I think Ron and I had a crush on each other, although being a typical boy, Ron didn’t want to admit or acknowledge it. But at the start of fifth year, I decided to confront Ron about our feelings,” Hermione began her narrative.

“You don’t say,” interrupted Myrtle.

“Are you going to let me tell this story?” asked Hermione.

“Sure, go right ahead,” Myrtle answered.

“Since the start of term fifth year Ron and I had been more or less avoiding each other and he wouldn’t spend any time alone with me. So I decided to take action. One night when I knew Harry would be out at a late Quidditch practice, I put on my best robe, tried to tame my hair as best I could and went down to the common room to confront Ron.”

“Ohhh, this is getting good,”

“Myrtle.”

“Sorry, please continue.”

“Okay.”

On the other side of the bathroom stall, Ron thoughts went back in time to a warm fall evening a little over a year ago.

The common room was crowded with students studying, playing games or just goofing off. Ron was sitting with his classmates, Dean and Seamus, listening to them argue over who was the best Quidditch player in history, when he glanced up to see Hermione walking towards him, nervously smoothing her hands down the front of her robe.

“Hi, Ron,” Hermione smiled shyly, stopping a few feet from their table.

“Hey,” Ron answered back, glancing up at Hermione nervously.

“Do you think we could go someplace and talk?

“In private,” Hermione asked casting a sideways glance at Dean and Seamus , who had stopped their discussion to listen attentively to Ron and Hermione’s conversation.

“Oooh, yes Ron,” Dean said in a high-pitched voice. “Let’s talk.” “In private,” Seamus added, elbowing Ron in the side and giving him a broad wink and a smirk.

“Shut up, you gits, Ron rounded on his friends, face flaming to rival the red of his hair. “Sorry about that, Hermione,” Ron stood, taking Hermione’s arm and leading her toward the portrait of the fat lady in the pink dress, all the while trying valiantly to ignore the snickers of his fellow Gryffindors that drifted across the room after them.

Once outside of the school, Ron lead Hermione to a bench underneath an ancient tree that had stood as a sentinel for hundreds of years in the outer courtyard of the castle. A warm November breeze ruffled Hermione’s already mussed hair as Ron sat beside her and looked up into the purplish pink sky, trying to focus on anything except the girl who now sat so close beside him. “Nice sunset,” Ron said blankly.

“I didn’t ask you out here to talk about the sunset, Ron. I want to know why you have been avoiding me since the beginning of term,” Hermione asked, taking one of Ron’s hands and pulling his attention back to her.

“I…I haven’t been avoided you, silly,” Ron stuttered. “You, Harry and I have been spending as much time together as we ever have.”

“That’s just the point. If Harry wasn’t with us we wouldn’t be spending time together at all. Anytime Harry had to leave, you got out of the room so fast too that I thought my head would spin,” Hermione pointed out in a matter of fact way.

Ron looked into Hermione’s eyes and choked out, “It’s just…I started to have these feelings for you.”

“What feelings, Ron?” asked Hermione in a hesitant voice.

“These feelings,” Ron stated lowering his head to Hermione’s and tentatively touching his lips to hers. After a few seconds, Hermione pulled back and began to giggle. At Ron’s affronted look, Hermione schooled her face into a bland expression. “Sorry, Ron,” she began apologetically. “Let’s try that again.” This time Hermione leaned in and pressed her lips to his and only seconds later, it was Ron’s turn to pull away, a wide grin on his face.

“Nothing, huh?” Ron smiled.

“No, not really,” Hermione grinned back at him.

“Well, it was worth a shot. Guess we’re destined to just be friends,” Ron stated not appearing to be at all disappointed.

“Yeah, I guess so,“ Hermione said rising from the bench and holding out her hand to the boy who would always be her friend, nothing more.

“So that’s the long and the short of it,” Hermione told Myrtle. “Ron and I are just friends. But when Harry kissed me yesterday, laughter was the last thing on my mind. As if the dream itself isn’t enough to worry about, now I have to worry how this will affect my relationship with Harry.”

Ron decided he’d eavesdropped long enough; he opened the door and let it close with a loud thud. “Hermione, you in here,” Ron called out.

Hermione exited the stall with a “Thanks for listening Myrtle” thrown over her shoulder. She glanced sheepishly up at Ron and said, “You looking for me?”

“Yeah,” Ron stated. “I think we should find Harry and try to get down the bottom of this dream business once and for all.”

“I think you’re right,” Hermione responded, preceding Ron out of the bathroom door.

* * * * *

Harry had been walking for what seemed like hours, trudging through the heavy snow, alternately scanning the landscape for any signs of Hermione and calling out her name. From Hagrid’s hut to the Forbidden Forest to a circuit around the lake, Harry felt like he had walked miles without seeing any sign that Hermione had been any of those places. Making his way back to the inner courtyard for a third look in hopes that she would come back to the place she had been the day before, Harry sat down heavily on the edge of the fountain, despair beginning to overwhelm him, hoping fervently that Ron had had better luck finding Hermione inside the castle.

Letting his mind drift back to the previous days encounter, a small smile pulled at the corners of Harry’s mouth as he thought about the kiss that he and Hermione had shared. The softness of her lips as he pressed his lips to hers. The way that she had taken the initiative and ran her tongue across his lips seeking entrance into his mouth. The sheer wonder of the feeling as her tongue explored his mouth and his, hers.

Harry Potter had never felt that comfortable around the opposite sex. Most of the time he just felt awkward and shy. In fact, outside of a small crush he had on fellow Quidditch player, Cho Chang, Harry had never paid the fairer sex much attention. Until yesterday. Until Hermione. Harry didn’t know what made him kiss Hermione. She was his best friend, had been since they were eleven years old and a certain encounter with a mountain troll had forever bonded them in friendship. And friends didn’t feel that way about each other, did they? He certainly hadn’t expected it, but there it was. Now what to do about it.

Shaking himself from his reverie, he decided that finding Hermione and solving the problem of her dreams was the more pressing matter of the moment rather than dealing with their newfound feelings for one another. That is if she did feel the same way about him, Harry thought.

Rising to his feet and blowing into his gloved hands to try to restore some warmth before beginning another circuit, Harry glanced up into the sky to see a snowy white owl descending in his direction. “Hedwig,” Harry smiled, as his pet owl landed softly on his extended arm. Taking the note that Hedwig carried and giving her an affectionate rub across her snowy head, Harry watched as she took flight back in the direction of the owlery. Quickly unfolding the note, Harry read the brief missive written in Ron’s typically untidy scrawl.

Harry,

Found Hermione, OK. Meet us in the Great Hall.

Ron

Harry’s knees nearly buckled, so great was his relief that Ron had found her. He quickly left the snowy courtyard, almost running in his haste to reach the castle and ascertain for himself that Hermione was indeed unharmed.

* * * * *

 

Running up the front steps, Harry pulled open the huge front door and hurriedly made his way to the Great Hall. In his haste to get to Hermione, Harry inadvertently bumped into someone walking through the door in front of him, almost knocking that person down.

“Sorry,” Harry said hastily, pushing past.

“Potter, where are you going in such a hurry that you’d think your robes were on fire?” Professor McGonagall asked with a slight frown.

“Oh, sorry Professor. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” Harry replied with a sheepish smile.

“Obviously,” Professor McGonagall smiled, after all this time she still had a soft spot in her heart for Harry Potter. “Surely you aren’t afraid they’ll eat all the lunch and not save any for you?”

“Lunch?” Harry asked in confusion. “Oh, yeah, lunch. I worked up an appetite in class this morning.”

“Would that be Professor Binn’s class that you, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger all missed this morning?” asked Professor McGonagall drolly.

“Well, uh…,” Harry stuttered.

“Don’t bother with an explanation Potter. That will be ten points from Gryffindor…each. I trust that you three can find your way to my class this afternoon,” the professor finished with a lift to her eyebrow.

“Yes, Professor, we’ll be there,” Harry promised, rocking back and forth slightly in his agitation to reach Hermione and Ron.

“Go, Potter,” the professor waved her hand at Harry, sensing his impatience. “I don’t want to know. I’m sure that would simply mean more points from Gryffindor.”

Harry smiled his thanks as he hurried away towards the Gryffindor table. He could see Hermione and Ron already there, seated near the end. Much to his disappointment, they were not alone. Dean, Seamus and Neville were sitting close by.

Harry noted that the noonday meal had already begun. The air hung heavy with the delicious smells of the food that crowded the table. Dean, Seamus and Neville were eating and talking enthusiastically about something. Ron sat there eating, but not with his normal enthusiasm. Hermione was simply pushing her food from one side of the plate to the other. Harry sat down between them.

“Hi,” Harry said, noticing Hermione’s puffy red-rimmed eyes.

“Hullo, Harry,” she replied with a watery smile.

“McGonagall’s on to us about skipping class this morning,” Harry informed Ron and Hermione. “We’ll have to go to class this afternoon and work on the problem this evening.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Ron replied. “Okay with you, Hermione?”

“Fine,” stated Hermione rising from the bench. “I’ll meet you two in Transfiguration. Honestly,” Hermione promised at Harry and Ron’s skeptical looks.

With a heavy heart, Harry watched Hermione leave the Great Hall. His own plate of food sat there untouched.

* * * * *

 

Hermione made her way slowly down the crowded hallway, all the while her mind racing through the possible explanations for her dreams then discarding each one as completely illogical. She automatically turned the corner that would lead her to Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration class, but failed to see Draco Malfoy coming from the opposite direction until it was too late. Hermione walked straight into him, knocking both of their books from their hands, sending them to the floor with a resounding crash.

“Oh, I’m quite sorry,” began Hermione, bending down to pick up the books without looking up to see who she had bumped into. “I had my mind on other things.” She sorted her well-used books from the ones that looked as if they had never been opened, straightening up and handing the like new books back to their owner.

“You should watch where you’re going,” sneered Draco Malfoy, jerking his books from Hermione’s hands. Looking over his shoulder to make certain no one was watching, then motioning Crabbe and Goyle closer behind him to block the view, he pushed Hermione against the wall, leaning over her menacingly. “You think you can walk around here with your head in the clouds, not paying attention to those of us beneath your notice. You think you’re better than me because you’re so smart but you’re just a Mudblood. You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Back off, Malfoy,” Hermione demanded angrily, trying to push him away from her but hampered by the armload of books that she carried. When Draco only leaned in closer, lowering his smirking face close to her own, Hermione felt her anger turn to a flicker of fear. Shifting her books to her left arm, Hermione tried to reach for her wand but Draco was faster. He pulled back slightly, holding her wand securely in his hand out of her reach.

“What do you think you can do to me in a hall full of people, Draco?” Hermione asked with more bravado than she felt.

Draco only smiled in response. Then pressing his face into her thick brown hair, Draco whispered into her ear, “We won’t always have an audience, Miss Know It All. I think it’s about time for you to know what it feels like not to have all the answers…to be out of control for a change.” Straightening away from Hermione, Draco threw one last satisfied smirk in her direction and motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him into class.

Hermione sagged back against the wall, closing her eyes and trying valiantly to regain control over her raging emotions. She gasped, eyes flying open as someone grabbed her upper arm, demanding, “What the hell was Malfoy doing to you, Hermione?” Hermione exhaled her relief when she realized Ron was standing beside her, grasping her arm. Harry came to her other side, gently placing his hand on her shoulder, but the fire flashing from his green eyes, belied his quietly asked, “Are you okay, Hermione?”

Smiling reassuringly up at Harry, Hermione nodded, stepping away from her two friends. “We need to get to class before we’re late. Please,” Hermione said beseechingly. “I’ll explain later,” and walked into the classroom without a backwards glance, leaving Harry and Ron to follow… Ron’s expression still angry….Harry’s more bewildered.

* * * * *

 

Later that afternoon, a normally studious Hermione was finding it extremely difficult to maintain her attention span as Professor Flitwick, her Charms teacher droned on about a charm that would enchant the recipient into doing the spell casters biding.

When he asked if there were any questions and was meet by a roomful of blank faced stares, Professor Flitwick said, “Well, I guess, we’ll move right along to the Sleep Charms.” Ron replied to this with a loud snore. Hermione shook herself from her stupor and elbowed Ron in the side to wake him. Jerking upright in his seat, Ron glared at Hermione, who turned her attention back to the professor, determined to pay more attention to the lecture.

“There are many varieties of Sleep Charms, Professor Flitwick began in his high pitched little voice, “the most common is the Visitation Charm in which the people on whom the charm has been cast can meet in their dreams. This charm can often have strange and wonderful consequences. But there are also some very evil charms that fall under this heading. Can anyone tell me the worst type of Sleep Charm?” Professor Flitwick asked hopefully.

“Oh no, of course. Why didn’t I think of that sooner?” Hermione exclaimed in exasperation.

“Because I just asked you the question, Miss Granger. Do you know the answer?” the professor queried.

“Of course,” answered Hermione, glancing to Harry then to Ron, shaking her head to keep them quiet. Going into her book-quoting mode, she answered Professor Flitwick. “The Phobia Charm is when a spell is cast in which the recipient dreams of their worst fear. And it can be made progressive so that each subsequent dream compounds the fear until…,” Hermione broke off in a choked voice.

“Until what?” Harry asked in an anxious voice.

“Until the person is driven mad,” Hermione finished, not meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Yes, well very informative and correct as usual, Miss Granger,” Professor Flitwick interrupted. “That will be all for today, but remember to read chapters four and five for next class,” he ended in dismissal.

Hermione picked up her books and quietly proceeded Ron and Harry out of the classroom, dreading the questions that would inevitably follow. As soon as they were out of the room, Ron started his verbal assault of questions, but Hermione shook her head and indicated that she wanted them to follow her. Harry glared Ron into submission and they obediently followed Hermione. It didn’t take long before they realized she was leading them to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

* * * * *

Once the trio had entered the bathroom, Hermione quietly shut the door behind them. Turning to face her two friends, who stood there waiting expectantly, Hermione took a deep breath and began. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. I knew there had to be a logical explanation for it. Why didn’t I realize it?” Hermione trailed off, shaking her head.

“So, you’re saying someone put a Sleep charm on you,” Ron stated.

“Not simply a Sleep charm, Ron, but a Phobia Charm,” Hermione explained. “A phobia is something that you are afraid of…”

“I know what a phobia is,” Ron interrupted. But the look Hermione gave him shut him up instantly.

“If for instance,” Hermione continued as if Ron had not interrupted, “this charm had been placed on you, Ron, you would have dreamed of spiders, probably thousands of spiders, crawling all over you. And with each subsequent dream, the spiders would have gotten bigger and probably have started biting you and…”

“Stop,” Ron exclaimed, a look of horror contorting his face “I get the picture.”

“Oh, but I can’t see it,” came the watery voice of Moaning Myrtle from behind the bathroom stall door.

Hermione walked over and opened the door to the last stall to find Moaning Myrtle sitting there. “I didn’t hear you crying, Myrtle, so I didn’t think you were in here.”

“I was in the u-bend of the toilet ruminating on my untimely demise when I heard you come in. A girl can’t be properly depressed about her death with you around, Hermione,” Myrtle said with a sigh.

“Back to the matter at hand,” Ron stated, drawing Hermione’s attention back to him. ”I can understand you being afraid of getting a bad grade, talk about your worst nightmare, but what’s with the Harry part? Why would you be afraid that Harry would lie about you?” Ron asked, repeating the question he’d asked Harry the previous day in the Gryffindor common room. “And if it gets worse with each dream, what did you dream the second night that was worse than Harry ratting you out to the Professor?”

Those were the questions that Hermione had been dreading. Not wanting to answer them, even to herself, she had fled rather than face Harry and Ron the morning after her second dream. Now Ron stood there waiting expectantly for an answer. Hermione couldn’t even force herself to glance in Harry’s direction. So when he spoke for the first time since entering the bathroom, Hermione jumped slightly.

“I think the more pertinent question might be, who put the Phobia charm on Hermione and why?” Harry stated, concern lighting his green eyes as he cast an encouraging smile in Hermione’s direction. Gratitude flowed through Hermione as she offered Harry a small smile of her own.

Apparently missing the deeper exchange between the two, Ron interposed, “Well, Malfoy, who else? He hasn’t liked Hermione from the beginning because she has Muggle parents. And she’s always been smarter than him, though that’s not too hard.”

“True,” Harry commented, “but why now? Like you said Ron, he’s never liked Hermione from the start. Or me. Or you for that matter. So why choose Hermione and not one of us?”

“I think I know,” said Hermione, all the color draining from her face.

“Well, don‘t keep us in suspense,” Myrtle prompted, speaking for the first time after being uncharacteristically silent.

“Myrtle,” Harry and Ron both admonished.

Hermione was wringing her hands in nervous agitation. Harry walked over to stand in front of her and took both of her hands in his. He didn’t care that Ron and Myrtle stood there gawking, mouths hanging open. “Hermione,” Harry began, forcing her with his voice to look up into his eyes. “Please, tell us what happened.” He gave her hands a slight squeeze and a smile that was meant to encourage.

“It was a little over a week ago in Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration class. The one you both missed. You were in the infirmary, Harry, after being hit in the head with that Bludger during Quidditch practice. And you were in bed sick, Ron, after eating that whole box of chocolate frogs that I gave you for Christmas.” Harry and Ron both grimaced at the respective memories. Hermione began her narrative.

Professor McGonagall walked around the room, stopping at each student’s desk to inspect the work they had done. The assignment had been to turn a stuffed toy rabbit into an exact live replica. As she wended her way through the desks looking at her student’s offerings, she shook her head in dismay. Neville’s rabbit was twitching its nose, its forepaws in the air, sitting on its still stuffed behind. Dean and Seamus had an orange and blue rabbit, respectively. The stuffed ones she had given them were black and brown. But as they were both completely live rabbits, she’d have to give them points for that. Making her way to the other side of the room, where the Slytherin students were seated, she looked first at Crabbe and Goyle’s stuffed rabbits, completely unchanged from their previous form. Then she made her way to Draco Malfoy’s desk, glancing down at his rabbit and gasping in shock. Something had gone horribly wrong with his spell. What sat on his desk was definitely alive. It was covered in brown fur. But it wasn’t a rabbit. It was a snake. It was coiled with its head raised and it’s fangs bared, ready to strike. Professor McGonagall grabbed her wand and quickly turned the snake back into a harmless brown stuffed bunny. Glaring at Draco, the professor swept back to the front of the classroom.

“I cannot believe that students in their sixth year here at Hoqwarts are unable to perform a simple transfiguration spell. And Mr. Malfoy I said a rabbit not a snake. Can you not tell the difference?” Professor McGonagall asked, as several students snickered. Glaring around the room, the laughter quickly quieted as the Professor walked over to Hermione. On her desk sat a furry white live rabbit an exact replica of the stuffed one that had sat there minutes before. “Only Miss Granger accomplished the spell to perfection. Malfoy you should take lessons,” Professor McGonagall concluded as the clock struck the hour, signaling the end of class.

As Hermione gathered up her books, she looked up to see Draco approaching, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle. Bending over and whispering threateningly in her ear, Draco warned, “One of these days Granger, you’re gonna know what it feels like to not know it all.” He straightened, gave Hermione an evil smirk and strolled from the room followed by his fellow Slytherins.

“I didn’t take his threats seriously,’ Hermione concluded her narrative. “You know Malfoy’s always spouted off idle threats and never followed through with them.”

“Guess you showed him up in class one too many times, Hermione,” Ron chipped in. “He finally decided to get even. I say we go bash his brains in. What do you say, Harry?” Ron stood, fists clenched, looking as if he was spoiling for a fight.

Harry, still holding Hermione’s hands in his replied, “I think it’s more important that we find out how to reverse the spell. Do you know how to do that, Hermione?” Harry smiled down at her gently.

“That’s the thing with this charm, only the one who cast it can undo it,” Hermione looked up into Harry’s eyes with despair.

“Well that settles it,” Ron stated, moving towards the door. “We find Malfoy and beat the bloody hell out of him until he takes the spell off of Hermione,” Ron concluded, a snarl in his voice.

“No, Ron, you don’t understand,” Hermione dropped Harry’s hands and went to stand beside Ron whose right hand was already on the doorknob. “This is a complicated spell. Draco couldn’t have done it all by himself. He had to have had help.”

“Who, Crabbe and Goyle?” asked Ron skeptically.

“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum? Hardly,” laughed Hermione.

Ron looked quizzically at Hermione, “Tweedle who?”

Giggling slightly, Hermione shook her head at Ron, “Sorry. Never mind. It’s a Muggle thing.” Hermione looked across the room to see Harry grinning at her. Although Harry’s parents had been a witch and a wizard, Harry had been raised by his mother’s sister and her husband who were Muggles. So he understood the reference to the book Alice in Wonderland. Hermione decided she’d have to let Ron borrow her copy sometime.

“I think what Hermione is trying to say, Ron, is that someone who knew what they were doing had to have helped Malfoy” Harry said, walking over to stand by his best friend. “But I don’t know who.”

“Snape,” offered Ron.

‘He certainly doesn’t like us,” agreed Harry, “ and Malfoy is his favorite student. But I don’t think even Snape would do that.”

“So how do we find out?” Ron asked in exasperation.

“Well maybe you had a good idea to begin with, Ron…” Harry began.

“Harry,” Hermione exclaimed, a surprised expression on her face.

“Yesssss,” Ron pumped his fist in the air. “You hold him and I’ll hit him, Harry.”

Smiling broadly at Ron, Harry chuckled, “That’s not quite what I had in mind.” At Ron’s disappointed look, Harry grinned. “I was thinking of some intimidation of a little less violent nature. Our Miss Granger got top marks for transforming a stuffed rabbit into a real one. Wonder what she could turn Malfoy into?”

Ron’s eyes lit up with mirth. “Oh, I could think of a thing or two.” Ron rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

“So could I,” Hermione added. “So could I.”

Motioning for Ron to open the door, Harry added, “Come on you two, we have a lot of planning to do if we want to trap Malfoy into confessing his accomplice and get the charm reversed before Hermione has to go to sleep and have that dream again.”

“Yes and we don’t want Hermione to have that dream too many more times. She’ll eventually go mad. Oh, wait,” Ron deadpanned, “how will we tell the difference?”

Hermione shot Ron a deadly look. “Weasley, care to find out what I can turn you into?’ she asked with a serious expression.

“Let’s go,” Harry said, knowing better than to take either friend’s side for fear of the repercussions.

As Harry was ushering them out of the door, an uncontrollable grin on his face, he heard Myrtle call out, “Hey, bring Malfoy back here so I can see it.” Harry’s answer was a quietly closed door behind him but he could still hear Myrtle sob, “I’m dead and I still don’t get to have any fun.”

* * * * *

The twinkling stars lit up the deep velvet of the bewitched ceiling in the Great Hall. Hermione sat at the Gryffindor table, pushing her food from one side of her plate to the other, occasionally taking a bite but not tasting anything. Ron ate with less than his usual gusto. Harry only ate because he had failed to eat his lunch and knew he must keep his strength up so he’d be alert enough to help carry out their plan.

At the Slytherin table, Draco watched as Crabbe and Goyle inhaled their food, helping themselves to second and third helpings that magically appeared as soon as they had cleaned their plates. Staring over at the Gryffindor table, Malfoy gave Hermione a smile full of evil intent when he caught her glancing his way. Hermione quickly looked back down at her plate, suddenly becoming seemingly very interested in the potatoes that lay there uneaten.

She missed seeing the satisfied look that came over Malfoy’s face.

Nodding her head slightly and taking a deep breath, Hermione knew what she had to do. She, Ron and Harry had gone over the plan extensively, leaving nothing to chance except Draco’s compliance. After the threatening scene in the hallway earlier that day, the three had assumed that Draco wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to get Hermione alone. Harry, his back to the Slytherins, saw Hermione take a deep breath and nod. That was the signal that she was ready to proceed. He caught her worried brown gaze with his deep green one, trying to give her as much silent encouragement as he could. His smile alone spoke volumes of his newfound feelings for her.

“Hermione, it was only a dream,” Harry said in a slightly elevated voice, setting their plan in motion.

Hermione slammed her fork to the table, putting both hands down beside her plate and raising herself slightly from her seat. “It was not only a dream, Harry Potter. I have been trying to explain my fears to you and Ron all day. But you just don’t understand. You won’t listen to me,” Hermione ended in a raised voice.

Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Slytherins as well as their fellow Gryffindors were beginning to stare in their direction.

“Calm down, Hermione. You’re being totally irrational,” Ron interjected.

“Irrational. You say I’m being irrational,” Hermione screamed. “I’ll show you irrational.” Picking up her glass of pumpkin juice, Hermione flung the contents into Ron’s face, Turning on her heel, she stormed out of the Great Hall leaving a room full of students and teachers gawking in her wake.

As Ron wiped the pumpkin juice from his face, Professor McGonagall hurried over, asking in a concerned voice, “What’s wrong with Miss Granger?”

Harry rose from the table and turned to his professor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco rising from his table, say something hurriedly to Crabbe and Goyle and stride from the room.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with Hermione,” Harry answered. “But Ron and I will find out.”

“If you need me, you know where to find me,” Professor McGonagall said kindly as she left Harry and Ron and made her way back to the head table.

Making certain Draco had already left the hall, Harry and Ron followed at a discreet distance, so as not to be seen if Draco happened to look back.

* * * * *

Hermione hesitated in the hallway, wiping her damp palms down the front of her robe, listening intently for the footfalls indicating that Draco had indeed followed her out of the Great Hall. She checked for the fifth time to make sure she had her wand. It was exactly where it had been the last four times she had checked. Finally hearing footsteps coming up the hallway behind her, Hermione began walking slowly toward the staircase that would lead her to the Gryffindor tower.

Suddenly seized from behind, Hermione was spun around and pushed up against the cold stone wall. Even though she was anticipating the confrontation, she was still startled to look up and see Draco there, staring menacingly down at her, only inches separating them.

“I told you there would come a time when we didn’t have an audience, Mudblood,” Draco snarled nastily at her.

Hermione tried to steady her breathing. Anger coursed through, tinged by a touch of fear. She was furious that Draco would put a charm on her with the ultimate hope of driving her mad. She also didn’t rule out the possibility that Draco could mean to do her physical harm either. But she knew that if everything was going according to plan, Ron and Harry were nearby, hiding under Harry’s invisibility cloak. They had agreed to give her a few minutes to try to trick Draco into confessing whom he had as his accomplice. If that failed, the plan was for Harry and Ron to overpower Draco and have Hermione threaten to turn him into a toad or some such ignoble creature.

Failing that, Ron thought that beating Draco to a bloody pulp was still a good option.

“Get away from me, Malfoy,” Hermione demanded in her bravest voice, raising her hands and pushing at Draco’s chest to put some distance between them.

“Where were you going… to bed…to have sweet dreams,” Draco’s cold eyes raked across Hermione’s face looking for any signs of fear.

Hermione carefully schooled her face into a blank mask, “What would you know about my dreams, Draco?”

When Draco’s only response was a smirk, Hermione continued. “Well, let me tell you what I know,” she said in a deceptively sweet tone. “You put a Sleep charm on me. A Phobia Charm, to be precise. But what I don’t know is who helped you. The Phobia Charm is a very complicated. You’re not smart enough to cast it by yourself.”

Hermione found her upper arms seized in a tight grip. Before she could stop herself, she gasped in pain. A loud thud echoed down the deserted hallway. Draco jerked in the direction of the noise. “Who’s that?” he demanded looking up and down the hallway for the source of the noise.

“Do you see anyone?” Hermione asked drawing his attention back to her.

“No, only the Muggle that’s ruining my life. Do you know how much I hate being compared to a Mudblood and coming up lacking? All the professors sing your praises. Your grades are perfect while mine barely keep me in school. You have no right to even be here. If it weren’t for you, there wouldn’t be any comparisons. You shouldn’t even be here,” Draco finished, fury contorting his features, his hands still gripping Hermione’s arms tightly.

“So that’s why you did it, revenge…malice…spite…jealousy,” Hermione ticked off her reasons. But that still doesn’t answer the question of who helped you.”

“My father,” Draco spat out. “I sent him an owl and of course he was willing to help. He hates Muggles as much as I do. He snuck in one night to help cast the charm. Then all I had to do was sit back and watch it work. It was an added bonus that it seemed to drive a wedge between you and Potter. Who knew your worst fears would be about him? Although I should have, everything’s always about him,” Draco finished with a sneer.

“You think?” Harry asked, throwing back the Invisibility Cloak to reveal that he and Ron stood only a few feet away.

“What the…where did you two come from?” Draco stuttered.

“You think we’d leave Hermione alone with the likes of you?” Ron asked in bemusement.

“Take your hands off of her, Malfoy,” Harry demanded, taking a step closer.

“Who’s going to make me, you two?” Draco laughed, dragging Hermione around in front of him like a shield.

“No, but this might,” Harry answered holding up a small black plastic box.

Smirking, eyes narrowing, Draco laughed, “What is it, a magic box?”

“You could say that,” answered Harry with a smile. He pressed a button and a whirring noise filled the quiet hall. Pressing another button, the noise stopped. It’s a Muggle device called a tape recorder. It’s better than magic. Listen.”

The words warbled a bit, but Draco’s tinny voice filled the hallway clear enough to be understood.. “My Father. I sent him an owl and of course he was willing to help. He hates Muggles as much as I do.” Due to the magic surrounding the castle, electronics didn’t work well, but the tape recorder worked well enough to spit Malfoy’s words back at him.

The color draining from Draco’s face, he released one of Hermione’s arms and reached for his wand. But this time Hermione was quicker. She reached her wand first, turning quickly and pushing Draco back against the wall, her wand pressed against his throat. Ron rushed over a grabbed Draco’s wand out of his hand before he could bring it up to use it against Hermione. Draco’s eyes widened slightly in fear.

“Not so fun being on the receiving end, huh, Malfoy?” Ron crowed in triumph.

“You’re going to send an owl to your father and have him come and take the Phobia Charm off Hermione,” Harry stated, moving to stand right behind Hermione. “And you’re going to do it now.”

“If I don’t?” Draco asked with one last show of menace.

“Hermione is going to turn you into a little slimy creature befitting your personality,” Harry smiled down at Hermione who still stood there, her wand pressed to Draco’s neck, a delighted twinkle in her warm brown eyes.

Draco stood there, searching for any avenue of escape. Finding none, he conceded ungracefully, “I’ll send the owl.”

* * * * *

Hermione sat on the edge of the fountain, gazing out over the snow-covered landscape. Looking back towards the school, she saw Harry’s tall, lanky form approaching. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to still the nervous quivering in her stomach that was part trepidation and part excitement.

Stopping a few feet in front of Hermione, Harry gazed down at her with a smile. “I checked the bathroom first and I never thought I’d get away from Myrtle. She had to know all the details,” Harry sat down beside Hermione, facing her. “At least you wore your heavy cloak this time.”

“Yes and I’m not missing class this time either since it’s the weekend,” Hermione added with a tentative smile. “Oh” Hermione said, a thought suddenly springing to mind, “I meant to ask you last night and forgot in all that happened afterwards, “What was that loud thump in the hallway. I thought the plan was blown out of the water for certain?”

Harry laughed slightly, a self-deprecating smile lighting his face. “That would have been me about to blow the plan. When Draco grabbed your arms, I just about threw off the Invisibility Cloak and put Ron’s plan into action. Beating Malfoy to a bloody pulp sounded like just the ticket. But Ron nearly tackled me to keep me from it. Can you believe that Ron was the level-headed one that wanted to give you time to complete the plan?”

Hermione shook her head, no, grinning. Harry smiled back, then frowned, “Hermione I still can’t believe that you wouldn’t let us turn Malfoy over to Dumbledore last night after his father reversed that charm. I thought Ron would burst a blood vessel. Why’d you let Malfoy off?”

Hermione sat there for a moment gathering her thoughts, having dreaded the moment when she would have to reveal her reasoning for her leniency with Draco, knowing that in turn, it would reveal her greatest fear. “Harry, I never told you the details of my second dream. I need to tell you now.” When Harry smiled in encouragement, Hermione continued, “The dream started off the same but this time you didn’t even regret turning me in to McGonagall.”

“And that’s why you didn’t turn Malfoy in,” Harry interrupted, confused.

“No, let me finish, please.” At Harry’s nod, Hermione swallowed nervously and continued, “The dream shifted, Harry. We were here. It was the day that we kissed. But this time you laughed at me, asked me how I could ever think that you would really want me. After all, I was just a plain bookworm. Why would you want to be friends with me, much less anything else.” As Harry was about to interrupt again, Hermione pleaded, tears glistening in her eyes, “No, please, I have to say it all.” Harry nodded, his own eyes moist with unshed tears.

“That’s always been my biggest fear, Harry. That people wouldn’t like me. I was too much of a know it all. When I came here to Hogwarts and Ron made that comment about me not having any friends, I was crushed. That confirmed all my fears. But then we had that little run in with the mountain troll and you and Ron realized you could trust me and we all became best friends. I was afraid of losing that. I still am,” Hermione finished, tears now coursing down her cheeks unchecked.

Harry gently wiped Hermione’s tears away with his gloved hands. “But what does that have to do with Malfoy?”

“I guess I just felt sorry for him. I think deep down Draco has the same kind of insecurity that I had. After all if your only friends were Crabbe and Goyle, wouldn’t you feel like you were a loser in the friend department too?” Hermione asked with a smile.

Harry chuckled at that but quickly became serious again. Reaching up, he gently cupped Hermione’s face in his hands. “Hermione, you’ve got to know that you will always be my best friend, no matter what. Nothing will ever change that. I promise.”

“Not even the kiss we shared the other day?” Hermione asked, a catch in her voice.

Looking deep into Hermione’s eyes, Harry asked with trepidation, “Do you not want that kind of relationship with me, Hermione?” A trace of the boy who had spent so many years unloved and unwanted seeped into his tone. “Do you just want us to be friends?”

“I want both Harry, more than anything,” Hermione declared, bringing her hand up to brush Harry’s unruly dark hair back out of his eyes. “But I don’t want it to change what we have now. I don’t want to risk losing my best friend.”

“You won’t, Hermione. I promise. We can be both.”

Drawing her closely into the secure circle of his arms, Harry lowered his head to Hermione’s and caught her lips in a tender kiss. After exploring her lips softness for a moment, he trailed slow, gentle kisses from the corner of her mouth to her ear and whispered, “And no more bad dreams either, love.”

Snuggling down into the safety of Harry’s arms, Hermione laid her head on Harry’s chest and smiled. Listening to the slow steady beating of his heart, she thought about the bad dreams that had plagued her. The rational, practical side of her had known that Harry would have never betrayed her or have never uttered the hurtful words the dream Harry had. But she also knew that sometimes dreams were a way to manifest unspoken fears, even without help from a Phobia charm. So Hermione looked up into Harry’s eyes and decided to make him a promise. “We can’t always control our dreams, Harry. But I promise I’ll always share my dreams with you…the good and the bad.”

Harry gazed down into her love filled eyes, lowered his mouth to hers and sealed the promise with a kiss.