Musings (Harry Potter, Harry/Hermione #6 the space between dream and reality)
Title: Musings
Author: Icy
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the world of is ® Warner Bros and J. K. Rowling. No disrespect intended.
Author’s Note: These will connect to form a story, hopefully in chronological order.
The story begins with the end of Year 6. If I don’t get finished by the time Book 7 comes out… Oh well!
(It had been a clear day early on, and that had been what convinced Harry to join the Weasleys for a short match of Quidditch before lunch-that, and he’d been spending an unhealthy amount of time brooding lately. Since the end of 6th year, he’d been giving himself more than an unhealthy amount of grief for Dumbledore’s death, Snape’s betrayal-even more so than when Sirius had died. As the messy-haired teen pushed hard off the ground and rose at a dizzying page, Firebolt vibrating slightly under him, he gazed at the ground below, making out the two twins, Ron, Charlie, and Bill. He saw Ginny and Hermione sitting in the grass nearby, poring over a large volume that was open on the grass between them. Mr. Weasely was sitting in a chair not far off, watching his children with a sort of distracted sensitivity. Fleur sat next to him, reading a slender book. Mrs. Weasely was busy conjuring up a midday meal in the kitchen, and at times could be observed ferrying a steaming tureen or icy pitcher out to the table behind the people.
“Go, Harry!” Harry heard George yell as he released the two bludgers and the snitch. Bill had taken immediate position of the quaffle. Harry couldn’t even remember which team he was on, just that he was supposed to play Seeker and Chaser. Harry dipped lower, joining in the game again. His eyes darted over to Ginny and Hermione, and a pang of guilt vibrated within his chest. He’d found himself becoming disinterested in a relationship with Ginny once they’d broken off at the end of school, so he supposed that his not being able to keep a relationship due to the rising threat of Voldemort would be a good thing.
Harry barely caught the quaffle that Charlie hurtled at him. Maneuvering around Ron, Harry tossed the ball in the direction of the floating barrels.
“Good one, Harry!” George yelled. Harry gave the ginger-haired wizard a half-wave and took another lap above the others, keeping an eye out for the snitch while sinking into a different sort of brooding. Guilt continued to flood him as he looked over at Ron, who was obliviously yelling for Bill to stop chasing Fred and to go get the quaffle. He knew that Ron had feelings for Hermione, but no relationship was safe as whatever final battle against Voldemort that was to take place drew near.
Only a week of carefree joy remained until they’d all pack up and head for Grimmauld Place, and begin seriously immersing themselves in Order work. Harry wondered who he was wasting his last days brooding.
A golden shimmer glinted near Ron, and Harry dove at it, rushing past the redhead only to realize it had been the wizard’s watch. “Alright there, Harry?” Ron yelled. Harry ignored him and continued circling, dropping down to position behind George.
Harry scored once more before hiding in his thoughts again. He couldn’t shake the feeling of imminent doom, and he couldn’t figure out his feelings about his friends. Ron he knew would be furious if he ever got wind of the fact that Harry was even considering Hermione. Rightfully so, Harry supposed. He’d never had a chance to talk about how he felt-or didn’t feel-because Ron had been so clear about it. Ever since the Triwizard Tournament, however, he’d always wondered if there could be anything besides friendship between Hermione and himself. Ginny was a complicated issue, because he’d liked her-a lot. But he couldn’t imagine a serious relationship with her, honestly. While he was ahppy with her, she was too carefree. He couldn’t handle being with her and dealing with Voldemort at the same time.
“Hey, Harry!”
Harry turned around to look at Ron, whose mouth was moving. But he didn’t have time to register anything before he felt a blunt blow to the back of his head, a sharp pain, and then the familiar sensation of falling into darkness.
Harry didn’t know where he was, just that there was a comforting presence nearby. Sometimes he would see things flitting elusively before him, and he’d attempt to pursue them, only to fall back and struggle with what must be an adversity, the pain kept at bay like a crouching tiger in the close distance. Thankfully, he wasn’t conscious of his troubled thoughts of earlier.
Mrs. Weasley pressed a damp, folded washcloth to his forehead and stepped back, watching him toss and turn fitfully. She knew that he’d taken bludgers before, but there was no Madam Pomfrey nearby and she wasn’t sure he’d ever taken one to the head that hard before. Fred had gotten a stern talking-to and he wasn’t coping that well with putting Harry out that easily.
As she left the room and gently closed the door, she was surprised to see Hermione approaching. “He’s still sleeping. I think my spell worked because it seemed like his skull mended-it wasn’t really that bad in the first place,” she said quickly, for Hermione closed her eyes at that part.
“Can I just go make sure? I won’t wake him,” Hermione said quietly.
Mrs. Weasely pressed her lips together and moved down the hall.
Hermione entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She drew a chair up to Harry’s bedside and spoke in a low voice. “Harry, you’ve got to get better soon. There’s been Death Eater sightings all over the countryside, and Snape was spotted all the way in Cambridge.” She paused. “It only seems to happen when you’re not available, but we’ve also gotten post from the Order already, wanting to meet up. They’re going to have a meeting to officially declare you leader, I think.” She took his hand, which was cold. “Just a bludger, Harry. Please wake up soon.” Hermione gently placed his hand on the edge of his bed, stood, and left just as quietly.
In his fevered dreams, Harry heard Hermione’s voice penetrating the haze. Weakly he raised a hand. “Hermione…” But the vision of Hermione flitted way elusively once more, and Harry sank back under an uneasy, restless sleep.)
Author: Icy
Pairing: Harry/Hermione
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the world of is ® Warner Bros and J. K. Rowling. No disrespect intended.
Author’s Note: These will connect to form a story, hopefully in chronological order.
The story begins with the end of Year 6. If I don’t get finished by the time Book 7 comes out… Oh well!
(It had been a clear day early on, and that had been what convinced Harry to join the Weasleys for a short match of Quidditch before lunch-that, and he’d been spending an unhealthy amount of time brooding lately. Since the end of 6th year, he’d been giving himself more than an unhealthy amount of grief for Dumbledore’s death, Snape’s betrayal-even more so than when Sirius had died. As the messy-haired teen pushed hard off the ground and rose at a dizzying page, Firebolt vibrating slightly under him, he gazed at the ground below, making out the two twins, Ron, Charlie, and Bill. He saw Ginny and Hermione sitting in the grass nearby, poring over a large volume that was open on the grass between them. Mr. Weasely was sitting in a chair not far off, watching his children with a sort of distracted sensitivity. Fleur sat next to him, reading a slender book. Mrs. Weasely was busy conjuring up a midday meal in the kitchen, and at times could be observed ferrying a steaming tureen or icy pitcher out to the table behind the people.
“Go, Harry!” Harry heard George yell as he released the two bludgers and the snitch. Bill had taken immediate position of the quaffle. Harry couldn’t even remember which team he was on, just that he was supposed to play Seeker and Chaser. Harry dipped lower, joining in the game again. His eyes darted over to Ginny and Hermione, and a pang of guilt vibrated within his chest. He’d found himself becoming disinterested in a relationship with Ginny once they’d broken off at the end of school, so he supposed that his not being able to keep a relationship due to the rising threat of Voldemort would be a good thing.
Harry barely caught the quaffle that Charlie hurtled at him. Maneuvering around Ron, Harry tossed the ball in the direction of the floating barrels.
“Good one, Harry!” George yelled. Harry gave the ginger-haired wizard a half-wave and took another lap above the others, keeping an eye out for the snitch while sinking into a different sort of brooding. Guilt continued to flood him as he looked over at Ron, who was obliviously yelling for Bill to stop chasing Fred and to go get the quaffle. He knew that Ron had feelings for Hermione, but no relationship was safe as whatever final battle against Voldemort that was to take place drew near.
Only a week of carefree joy remained until they’d all pack up and head for Grimmauld Place, and begin seriously immersing themselves in Order work. Harry wondered who he was wasting his last days brooding.
A golden shimmer glinted near Ron, and Harry dove at it, rushing past the redhead only to realize it had been the wizard’s watch. “Alright there, Harry?” Ron yelled. Harry ignored him and continued circling, dropping down to position behind George.
Harry scored once more before hiding in his thoughts again. He couldn’t shake the feeling of imminent doom, and he couldn’t figure out his feelings about his friends. Ron he knew would be furious if he ever got wind of the fact that Harry was even considering Hermione. Rightfully so, Harry supposed. He’d never had a chance to talk about how he felt-or didn’t feel-because Ron had been so clear about it. Ever since the Triwizard Tournament, however, he’d always wondered if there could be anything besides friendship between Hermione and himself. Ginny was a complicated issue, because he’d liked her-a lot. But he couldn’t imagine a serious relationship with her, honestly. While he was ahppy with her, she was too carefree. He couldn’t handle being with her and dealing with Voldemort at the same time.
“Hey, Harry!”
Harry turned around to look at Ron, whose mouth was moving. But he didn’t have time to register anything before he felt a blunt blow to the back of his head, a sharp pain, and then the familiar sensation of falling into darkness.
Harry didn’t know where he was, just that there was a comforting presence nearby. Sometimes he would see things flitting elusively before him, and he’d attempt to pursue them, only to fall back and struggle with what must be an adversity, the pain kept at bay like a crouching tiger in the close distance. Thankfully, he wasn’t conscious of his troubled thoughts of earlier.
Mrs. Weasley pressed a damp, folded washcloth to his forehead and stepped back, watching him toss and turn fitfully. She knew that he’d taken bludgers before, but there was no Madam Pomfrey nearby and she wasn’t sure he’d ever taken one to the head that hard before. Fred had gotten a stern talking-to and he wasn’t coping that well with putting Harry out that easily.
As she left the room and gently closed the door, she was surprised to see Hermione approaching. “He’s still sleeping. I think my spell worked because it seemed like his skull mended-it wasn’t really that bad in the first place,” she said quickly, for Hermione closed her eyes at that part.
“Can I just go make sure? I won’t wake him,” Hermione said quietly.
Mrs. Weasely pressed her lips together and moved down the hall.
Hermione entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She drew a chair up to Harry’s bedside and spoke in a low voice. “Harry, you’ve got to get better soon. There’s been Death Eater sightings all over the countryside, and Snape was spotted all the way in Cambridge.” She paused. “It only seems to happen when you’re not available, but we’ve also gotten post from the Order already, wanting to meet up. They’re going to have a meeting to officially declare you leader, I think.” She took his hand, which was cold. “Just a bludger, Harry. Please wake up soon.” Hermione gently placed his hand on the edge of his bed, stood, and left just as quietly.
In his fevered dreams, Harry heard Hermione’s voice penetrating the haze. Weakly he raised a hand. “Hermione…” But the vision of Hermione flitted way elusively once more, and Harry sank back under an uneasy, restless sleep.)