En Memoriam

Chapter 27

Harry groaned deeply in his sleep, his brow glistening with sweat as his back arched, shifting from his side to lay flat. His hands pushing at invisible walls though all he managed to move were the blankets.

Harry could hear screams—deathly screams—echoing through the small space he found himself. Surrounded by quickly closing stone walls, he pressed desperately against them to try and keep them back while somewhere above him the cries continued to whip at his soul.

"Hermione! Hermione!" Screamed a voice not his own, taken from a memory. His best friend's desperate attempt to do something-anything.

Harry could not see him, only the stone walls that pressed upon him further. The screams continued and his heart pulsed. He cried out in pure frustration, helplessness and fear.

Suddenly, the walls vanished and he found himself on his hands and knees above a polished wood floor. His head rose as the room warped around him. The walls unclear as his focus was solely on the woman laughing maniacally.

"No!" His voice sounded weak even to his own ears though his throat pulsed as though he'd screamed. Bellatrix laughed as she approached but her body began to flicker, the knife at her side gleaming. Every half-second Harry watched her body grow taller, her hair straighter, dark eyes and stoic features staring down into his soul.

Harry desperately tried to move forward even as the form in front of him flickered back and forth between Bellatrix and Snape, the screams from before coming again.

Suddenly, the scene changed and his eyes turned towards Hermione. Her body lying still on the floor, her eyes-just like Cedric's-staring straight back at him. Her clothes had changed from a ruddy jacket and jeans to her ministry robes. Her face, no longer young but as he saw her now. Bellatrix was leaning over her, and though Hermione's face never changed the screams continued, the knife in Bellatrix's hand hidden by her turned back as she presumably began carving into her arm.

Harry begged, pleaded, and cried out but no sound came from his lips. His body jerkingly moved forward to try and reach his friend. All he could see was her eyes, lidded, and her chest so impossibly still. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind that she was already gone even as Bellatrix continued her macabre act.

When he dared to raise his eyes he found Snape, now knelt opposite Bellatrix, his head turned down. Another knife, just the same, in his hand. Though for some reason, Harry didn't think he was assisting in the torture of his friend but rather trying to mend it. Even though the two sat on opposite sides of Hermione's arm and the vision hardly made sense, it was what he believed.

"Hermione...?" Harry reached out over the wooden floor, his fingers just barely brushing Hermione's. Cold. They were so cold.

Harry shot straight up in bed, his chest heaving as the dream melted away to the dim light around him. His body shined with sweat and his heart was threatening to burst forth from his chest. Propped on his hands he closed his eyes and let his head roll back to take in large gulps of air.

He had had that dream before, though the ending of it was entirely new. As he had never actually seen Bellatrix torture Hermione his mind had taken it upon itself to create the most horrific false memories. The screams, however, were very real.

He let out a small groan and dragged his hand up to his face rubbing at his eyes. His internal clock told him that it was still early, still plenty of time to rest. Even so, he did not want to go back to sleep. A soft noise to his side ran a small spike of fear up his spine and his head turned in the darkness to find Hermione still lying beside him. He'd almost forgotten that he'd asked her to come to bed with him again.