Harry Potter and the Year After

Chapter Sixty-seven: Dreams and Morning

Chapter 67: Dreams and Morning

Hermione performed the charm on herself though she was already half asleep. Ron watched her bare chest as she doze by the low firelight. Her nightshirt was tucked behind her. He didn't want to wake her—she looked so peaceful.

But it wouldn't do to sleep here either.

He kissed her but she was sleeping and only sort of kissed him back. So, he pulled her pajama bottoms up and pulled her nightshirt back onto her and buttoned a few of the buttons. Then, he carried her up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

Thankfully, Dean and Seamus both had their hangings drawn closed. Ron laid Hermione down in his bed and pulled the hangings shut. Then, he laid down next to her and soon fell asleep, their limbs intertwined...

***

I'm going to kill you, Harry Potter. And I am going to use your slag to do it.

Harry had nearly fallen asleep when a voice—unmistakably Voldemort's voice—had come into his head. Ginny was sleeping soundly... Harry's arm had fallen asleep so that it tingled. Careful not to wake her, he slid his arm out from under her head so it was tucked under her pillow instead.

Harry listened hard for the voice again. Was this part of PMTD? On the rare occasions that Harry was left home while the Dursleys went out for the evening, Harry would sometimes sneak-watch the tele. He'd seen a war movie once that had depicted flashbacks and PTSD. Maybe this was the same sort of thing?

When Harry heard nothing for a few minutes except for the nearly-silent sound of Ginny's breathing, he let himself shut his eyes again. Soon, as the feeling returned to his arm, he fell asleep.

***

Mary Cattermole sat with chains around her wrists and ankles were she sat before the Wizengamot. They'd taken her wand away. Ron glanced around but Harry wasn't there to help him. He was on his own.

But then, Ron realized, that Harry was the one putting Mary on trial. Except it wasn't Mary in the seat any longer, it was Hermione.

"Harry, you can't do this! You know she's a witch!" Ron yelled to Harry, who had the locket hanging around his neck.

"She's not a witch," Harry said gravely, shaking his head. Ron looked around again, and he saw two brooms there. His wand was suddenly in his hand but it hadn't been only a moment before. He blasted the chains from Hermione's wrists and ankles and mounted one of the brooms.

"Come on!" Ron coaxed. "Get on the other broom! We have to get out of here. The fiendfyre! Let's go, Hermione!"

"I can't!" she said, "You know I'm a terrible flyer!"

He wrenched her onto the back of his own broom as the fiendfyre engulfed the stands that the Wizengamot was in, but then Harry was there on the other broom.

"Go! Let's go!" Harry yelled and Ron and Hermione sped down the hallways on their broom, Harry following shortly after. But up ahead there were at least a hundred dementors.

"We have to stab them in the head!" Harry called. "With your wand! Use your wand!"

But then Ron's wand had disappeared again.

"Just use a Patronus charm, Harry!" Ron yelled back.

Ron woke with a start, breathing hard. It was morning—he could tell by the thin beam of light peeking through the crack between the hangings and the headboard. Hermione was still asleep next to him, one of her arms laying on his chest, the other was tucked under the side of her face.