Nightmares (HP) (Drarry)

seven: speculation

Hermione smiled as Harry entered the Great Hall looking refresh and well rested. It was an uncommon occurance for him, after all, and Hermione had taken to being concerned greatly. "I've got a plan!" she exclaimed as Harry took his seat.

He piled some food onto his place, not really paying attention to what, and sighed. "Don't you always? What's it this time?"

"External factors," she grinned, "We could compile a chart, a table, or something, of all the possible external factors that could contribute to your nightmares and lack thereof."

Harry flushed at the mention of his nightmares, he found them awfully embarrassing. "I think it's just random, 'Mione."

"There's only one way to know for sure!" Hermione said. Ron, arriving late, sat beside Harry, searching both of their faces.

"Lemme guess," he sighed, "Hermione has come up with some grand, energy exhausting idea?"

"As always," Harry said, taking a bite of his eggs.

"It's as good an idea as any," Hermione huffed. "And might be useful in stopping your nightmares altogether. A common denominator must exist and I intend to find it. So what do you say? Give it a try?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged. "I don't see why not. But it'll have to be later. I've got detention right after breakfast."

"You've been getting a lot of those lately, mate," Ron said, "Who's it for this time?"

"First I have one with Flinch, then Snape, then classes. After lunch I have detention with Umbridge, then classes, then Umbridge some more, alllll the way til supper," Harry counted them off on his fingers.

"Blimy!" Ron patted his arm empathetically, "You've got your work cut out for ya."

Hermione shook her head, "What's been up with you? You're off."

"I just..." Harry bit his lip, zoning out mid sentence.

Hermione shoved his arm, causing Harry to blink, returning to his senses. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I've been like that a lot lately. Zoning out, getting distracted, forgetful. It's why I've got so many detentions."

Hermione frowned. "You should go see Madame Pompfrey. You could be sick."

Harry mulled this over, then shook his head. "It sounds more mental than physical. Not sure if there's much a healer could do."

Hermione huffed, "But if you're not better in a few days, you'll go see her? Please?"

Harry sighed in resignation. "Sure, 'Mione, sure."

He glanced around, noticing that most of the Great Hall was empty. "Shoot! Gotta get to detention, sorry guys," Harry shot up quickly. His head became foggy, his hand shooting out to grasp the table for support.

"Harry?" Ron asked. "Harry, mate, you okay there?"

Harry shrugged, not really paying attention, busy trying to remain conscious and upright. A moment later, his vision cleared and he let go of the table. "I just stood up too fast," he said simply. Hermione protested, but it fell to deaf ears as Harry had already began to walk off.

Harry, though he may have insisted otherwise, knew that his little dizzy spell was not caused by standing up too fast.

What, he wondered, was wrong with him?