"Buried, almost tangible secrets filled the space between them, and so, without a second to think, she closed it."
The scars of war opened more wounds than Harry Potter thought possible. As he returns to Hogwarts for his eighth and final year, he le...
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HARRY AWOKE WITH A START, his hand slapped onto his stinging forehead.
His scar didn't hurt, it hadn't since he defeated Voldemort, but his head stung as if anticipating the white-hot pain so engraved into his memory. He wasn't screaming or sweating like he usually would after a nightmare, but instead felt a great rush of adrenaline, as if he had been super-charged or taken a rather large dosage of caffeine.
Blinking quickly to rid himself of any leftover sleepiness, he shot out of bed and arrived exactly where he knew he had to go. Within seconds, he stood at the door to Hermione's room, knocking rapidly on the wood and praying she wouldn't be angry with him.
To Harry's relief, a wide-eyed Hermione opened the door. She looked alert and fully awake with purple shadows under her confused eyes, surveying him blankly.
"Is something wrong?" asked Hermione, glancing nervously down the hall as if she expected something to jump out at her.
"No, nothing's wrong," Harry reassured her as she stepped aside to let him in. "My scar — Hey, Hermione, is everything alright?" He gestured wordlessly to her puffy eyes, just noticing them.
Hermione paused, swallowing hard and looking down at the floor. "Ron and I had a fight last night."
"What happened? Did he do something? Do I need him to yell at him, 'cause I'll do it," said Harry, ready to tear down the hallway at Hermione's word.
"It's not important," she said bluntly, moving her hand to wave him off. "It was stupid and I'm over it. What's wrong with you though? You mentioned your scar, did it hurt again?"
Harry examined her for a second, and when she stood still and unwavering, he decided it was safe to talk about his own problems.
"My scar is fine, it's more my head that hurts, not my scar. I just wanted to talk to you about this dream I had—" He stopped when she sighed loudly. "You sure I don't have to talk to Ron?"
"No, it's fine, I just got intense déjà vu," Hermione smiled softly.
Harry stared at her, for he was feeling rather conflicted about this dream and felt that she should be able to see that.
Hermione forced the smile off her face. "Nevermind. Go on."
Harry sat down on a chair in the corner of the room, leaning his back on the wall and trying his hardest to remember the dream. He retold all of it to her in great detail as she watched him carefully, her tired eyes narrowed in thought and intrigue.
