Of Nightmares and War

She woke to his screams, just like every night, just like she always did.

It was always around this time that the nightmares started and the screaming always followed. Sometimes he would call for help, sometimes he would scream in anger, and sometimes it was gut wrenching fear. And then sometimes he would call out those name. The names of people which were no longer able to answer.

But by far the worst times were when he called out for her. There was emotion in his voice that almost cracked her heart because these nightmares are by far his darkest.

He never talks about them, those ones that make him call for her, never. He would tell her of Cedric, of Dobby, of Dumbledore or Sirius but never those dreams. He would keep them bottled up inside and that worried her... because of all his dreams these were also the most frequent, seemed to hold the most pain.

It had been six months since the end of the war and neither of them were getting any better. Neither of them had slept the whole night through since the battle. As night closed in it seemed their minds awoke, another old horror always waiting to be remembered. As time passed they slept less and less each night, no longer sure what could ease their pain. Oblivion could not even be found at the end of a bottle, potion or otherwise.

Harry continued to scream through the night and she continued to hear the word mudblood called to her over and over again (something she heard even not in sleep), kept feeling the knife that engraved it in her skin. The echoes of death that seemed to follow her, of those whose blood did not run pure.

The pain, their pain, kept mounting with no end in sight.

Their fears and memories spilled over into the daytime hours and panic attacks became another frequent occurrence. The product of minds too run down, too weary to build up walls around things they did not wish to see. One moment she would be looking at something as simple as a quill and see blood dripping from calloused hands (younger then than now) and pink would consume her vision for many long minutes before she came back to herself (a sad thing to be so afraid of a color). Harry would often stare at the painting in the hallway oblivious to the screeching woman within for hours at a time and come away shaking and unable to speak.

She wondered what he saw.

Ron was there with them too. He had shared their fights, had lived the war like they had and he had shared their night terrors for many months as well until one day he suddenly stopped. Like he had been touched by a unicorn or spelled to forget.

They could find no explanation until he told them he had met up with Luna (they had not met since after the battle) at café in Diagon Alley and from that chance meeting on, things had gotten better for him. He was now happily engaged and sleeping the entire night through. He still had the occasional flash back but nothing as bad as he had before her.

They were happy for him of course and glad that when he moved out he no longer had to try and calm down two hysterical roommates. He still stayed every once in a while and they remained good friends but he was in a better place emotionally when he didn't have to worry about the two of them.

They never sought 'professional help' (that would require going to a doctor and they no longer trusted those) but then who else could help them? Those that had survived the war were either in the same boat or had sat fearfully on the sidelines and allowed it to come to pass. They were not foolish enough to believe that the world had been magically rid of its purist ideals at the death of one man and so they kept to themselves. Fortunately few people noticed and their lives remained undisrupted by anything or anyone.

Harry like everything in his life before, had it the worst of all of them. He slept even less than they did and his flash backs seemed all the more real. The war had cost him more than any of the others and she was sure that he would have taken the easy way out if the same war that scarred him hadn't also given him an extreme appreciation for life.

Months went by and Harry started to go to bed earlier and earlier in the hopes of getting in more sleep before the dreams took him but it never worked, it just meant that the screaming started earlier. Despite this he kept trying and so he kept on being woken by the torture produced by his own subconscious. It was always like this and in a twisted way she was grateful because when he did this, he always woke her before her own dreams could really start.

She looked over at her nightstand and sure enough it read 11:05, the same as the night before... and the night before that. She had been asleep for less than an hour but it looked like there would be no more for her tonight.

"HERMIONE!"

The scream was loud and clear despite the walls it had to travel through to make it to her room. She bolted upright because there was something different about this cry, it was somehow more desperate and despairing than any she had ever heard from him.

Her wand was out from under her pillow (a paranoid habit since their time on the run) and she was on her way to his room in seconds. She cast a cautious 'lumos' so she could make her way up the old stairs of Grimmauld place without causing a minor cave in, coming to a stop before his door. It wasn't shut, it never was anymore, both of them needed easy access to the other during the night, after all you could not wake someone that you could not reach.

When she entered his room, to her surprise he was already awake. They rarely woke from their nightmares by themselves, usually they held them captive, unable to escape until someone could rescue them but tonight had been different. It must have been truly terrible for him to wake on his own.

She could feel the uncontrolled magic in the room caused by whatever horror he had just seen. Photos had fallen to the floor, chairs were overturned and the window had a large crack in it. As for Harry himself, he was sitting in the middle of the bed, covered in sweat and breathing like he had just went head to head with a dragon.

However it was the look on his face that made her launch herself at him and hold him like he would disappear. He looked like his heart was broken. And that was something she could not take. The world could stop spinning for all she cared, so long as Harry never looked like that again (not after Sirius, not after Dumbledore).

It had been an unspoken rule that she was not to come to him on nights when he called out for her because it was something he did not wish to share or burden her with. She had once, the first time it happened but he had looked at her with so much fear and asked that she not pry because her knowing would hurt him even more than the dream ever could. So she hadn't asked again, nor had she come when he called for her... but this time was different, he latched onto her tightly and breathed her in like a starving man.

"Hermione." He breathed into her hair in relief. "...My Hermione."

He didn't appear to notice what he was saying, he just continued to hold her and murmur her name in between large gulps of air with his face buried into her shoulder.

"What happened, Harry? Please, let me help you." She was in tears now because this was the last straw, she was bone weary and they both needed this with a desperation only the sleep addled could. They needed to tell someone what it was that kept them up at night and the only people they trusted was each other.

His breathe caught in his throat but he whispered the words anyway. "It's always the same, always you... They were torturing you again and I couldn't stop them." He paused to take a deep breath before continuing. "They made me watch just like always but this time they... th-they made me write on your arm." He didn't finish but then he didn't have to because they both knew what was carved into her arm that day.

"... After they were done.." even now he could tell all that they did to her in his mind. "they made me... made me kill you. And I couldn't stop it. I tried but I wasn't strong enough to stop it." Few recognized the feel of the imperius but he did, few realized that such a loss of control could mean. But he did. The war would have been much different had he been but a little weaker, even for a moment than he was

And that, she realized, was what had sent him over the edge. This was clearly not a new dream, it was one she had herself (minus the Harry hurting her part) many times but that last bit was obviously a whole new addition to his dream scape. Otherwise it wouldn't have sent him over the edge like that.

"I'm right here Harry, I'm alright. You would never hurt me."

"How can you possibly say that after all that I put you through over the years? After everything I dragged you into?" He pulled away from her, shocked that she could so firmly believe that when he most certainly had hurt her much and often over the years. It was his fault and his alone that she woke screaming with the remembrance of the cruciatus curse. His fault that she had such a filthy term permanently edged into her skin and his fault that she still held the look of one who had gone too long without enough food sustain them.

She would always amaze him. He had never met anyone so wonderful or loyal as her and he probably never would.

She was his deepest desire and his worst fear all wrapped up in one. Every time he looked for her she was there and every hope he had for the future was reliant on her presence in it. He had done so much to her over the years, put her through so much, yet here she was comforting him, saving him from himself.

"You have never and you will never hurt me Harry. I have complete faith in you... after everything how could I not?" She smiled up at him from where she was now seated on his bed, glad that he had begun calmed down.

He pulled her back into his arms, holding her until his breathing calmed and the tension in his muscles eased. Suddenly on the brink of sleep once more he placed feather-light kisses across her cheeks and nose, "I truly don't deserve you 'Mione."

She froze, not quite believing what she had just heard but Harry didn't seem to notice the effect that his words had had and continued to hold her. She didn't know what to say but he didn't seem to expect anything and it wasn't long before he was breathing deeply again, sound asleep with his arms still firmly wrapped around her middle. She couldn't move and she couldn't bring herself to wake him so she settled down and resigned herself for another long and sleepless night.

She turned over, burrowing into the warm mass beside her, not quite ready to leave the land of dreams she was enjoying so much. She breathed in the familiar scent of her best friend, content to stay where she was for the rest of her years or at least the remainder of the day. It was a Sunday after all.

She was just drifting back to sleep when a calloused hand began to sift gently through her hair. She happily leaned into the touch... until she realized that no one should be touching her let alone be in the same bed as her.

She sat up, taking her wand from its place beneath her pillow and pointing at the intruder but the curse died before it left her lips as she recognized that it was in fact Harry in her bed. Wait, not her bed, his.

She relaxed immediately, feeling a little silly for not remembering where she was and glad that she had successfully stopped herself from having a mild panic attack.

Harry who had tensed up at her sudden movement also calmed when her wand fell back to her side and she seemed to realize what was going on. "Sleep well?" He murmured, breaking the somewhat tense silence surrounding them, thought something in his tone seemed a little off.

"Wonderfully." She replied automatically but then she paused looking at him in shock.

They had slept the rest of the night through... without nightmares. In fact her dreams had been rather pleasant. Her eyes grew round and she stared at him in shock, this was something that hadn't happened to her since the end of sixth year. Her head whipped around to the clock on his bedside table... 10:27! Not only had they slept through the night, they had also slept in.

"And you? How did you sleep?" She turned back to Harry, amazement written across her features. She was still shocked and her words came out in no more than a whisper.

"Fantastic." He stated plainly but looking as though he wasn't sure that what he had said could be true even though he had experienced it himself.

They stared at each other for a moment before understanding finally dawned on the both of them. What they had done last night, the only thing they hadn't tried before to help them sleep had in fact been the only thing that worked.

Suddenly the entire situation seems a bit too awkward, where moments ago it was something wondrous. She looks down at her hands, twisting her wand back and forth between them, (amazed at the energy she had to do such a simple thing, an energy that she felt had been absent for what seemed like years). There really was nothing that could be said to make the situation any less weird for the two of them, so she decided to change the subject.

"Umm... I saw Ron and Luna yesterday." There something completely irrelevant to their current state and a safe topic of discussion.

Harry however appeared unsure whether he wanted to ignore their discovery but after searching her face for a moment he sighed and followed her lead. They would have to talk about it later, they had no choice really. Their nightmares were robbing them of life and if there was a way to fix it then they would have to take it, no questions asked.

What scared Hermione though was the effect it would have on her and Harry. Their relationship dynamic was years old and despite wanting it to change in way that would draw them closer together, she was also afraid of what that might do to them. It was the same silly schoolgirl fear that had held her back from him before.

Way back to what seemed like a lifetime ago, all the way back in fourth year, she had fallen for her best friend. At first she had thought it to be merely a passing fancy and left it to run its course but as the years past she had realized that it wasn't passing at all. Now she knew it was the one and only, forever kind of love.

That more than anything made her too afraid to tell him how she felt because she was one hundred percent positive that she couldn't live without him. If that meant that she was eternally friend zoned then so be it. A lifetime of friendship was far better than a lifetime of nothing.

She knew better now than to risk something so permanent for something so impossible. The war had taught her above all things to cherish what she had.

The rest of the day passed in the usual manner that days off do for those who are incredibly busy, they lazed around, doing the odd chore but mostly doing what they can't do when they have to work (they had been helping to rebuild Hogwarts in the aftermath of the last battle). They made no mention of what they had discovered that morning and when it came to be time for bed once more they went their separate ways on Hermione's insistence.

It was cold… so cold and the marble floor was hard beneath my back but then my body felt so beaten that I was sure nothing would feel soft again. There was a coppery taste on my tongue and I could smell something sharp and acidy hanging around me, my own urine I assume. There was no noise, not a whisper except a rhythmic dripping that originated from somewhere nearby and echoed throughout the room.

I was alone, I could tell because the pain had stopped. Not the normal pain one feels after being tortured, no that was still there, the other pain. The pain that usually accompanied the word 'crucio'. They had left me on the floor, covered in my own bodily fluids, not even bothering to put a guard over me. Now that they had all they wanted from me, I had been left to die in peace.

Or all the peace that I could feel after having sold out my closest friends just so that I could be free from the torture they had inflicted. I had given away years of love and companionship just for a little relief and now that I have it I wish I didn't. I would give anything to have that burning torture back if it meant that my friends would live. Anything.

I could feel my life slipping away just like the moisture running down my arm and dripping off my fingers. I didn't mind. After what I had done I didn't deserve to live any longer.

They were right, I really was nothing but a useless 'mudblood'.

Wait… blood.

So that's what's falling from my fingers…

"Hermione... Hermione." Hermione opened her eyes to find Harry whispering her name in her ear. Her heart gave a jolt at the sudden return to awareness and she let out a tiny shriek. The dryness of her throat let her know that this wasn't the first scream of the night and that she had in fact been calling out throughout the entirety of her less than pleasant dream.

She turned to Harry, ignoring that he was a little too close and tried to take in his features in what little light the moon provided. He was alive, she reassured herself and her dreamscape had been somewhat inaccurate in its retelling of the events at Malfoy Manor.

No matter how many times she had that dream it still scared her like no other, not just because she was being tortured but also because there was no way she could live with herself if she ever sold out Harry like that. Every time she had that dream she was afraid that when she woke up it would all turn out to be true and the world she lived in would be very different to the one she hoped for, the one that she worked so hard for. But seeing Harry reassured her that it was just a horrible nightmare of what could have happened, not what did happen.

It was times like these that she thought of how good they truly had it. The war had the possibility of ending far worse that it did, it had the potential to destroy so many lives but it didn't and if the price that they had to pay for this outcome was a lifetime of pain and unrest than she would pay it all over again. She would pay it a thousand times over just to have Harry here before her safe and whole.

She reached out to touch his cheek, still a little afraid that he would disappear and gave a relieved sigh when her fingers brushed against warm skin. "Harry." His name was mumbled through her slightly too large (for the circumstances) smile and it became even wider when he smiled tentatively back.

There was an awkward moment after that, both unsure what to do next before Harry took matters into his own hands and slipped under the covers with her. She tried to protest, albeit half-heartedly but he was hearing none of it and she had no choice but to allow him access.

He was determined that they would both have a proper night's sleep, he was so sick of waking up night after night to either her cries of pain or his own horrors. She was too important to allow this to continue, she of all people didn't deserve the hand she was dealt. He never liked seeing her this way, it made him feel helpless and now that he knew that he could prevent it, he was determined that it never happen again, even if she felt awkward being this close to him.

They had been through so much together, seen so much together that this should seem like nothing compared to all the other things that had happened to them. He honestly couldn't understand what had scared her so much about sharing a bed, they had done it before when they were chasing horcruxes to keep warm and now they were doing it to keep the dreams away. To him there was no difference, he had loved her then and he loved her now, sharing the bed with her would affect that very little.

He had hidden his feelings from her for so long that it was second nature. It was also second nature to find any excuse to be close to her without arousing her suspicion. Sometimes he wondered how he had succeeded all these years when she was the smartest person he knew but then he supposed that they said love was blind for a reason. Even the smartest of people had been fooled by it but either way he wasn't going to take it for granted and he always made sure that she knew he was there for her without getting close enough to scare her away.

He was careful.

He never wanted to lose the best friend that he had ever had, he was willing to watch her live a happy life married to another man, bearing his children just so long as he could be a part of that life. Living on the edges was not his dream but the edges seemed like a truly wonderful place when he considered his other options.

She was Hermione Granger, there was absolutely no way she would ever consider him. Even if by some miniscule chance she did see him that way. He knew her, just the idea of being with him would send her running to the hills. She would over think things, talk about their friendship as though it was sure to end and then she would avoid being anywhere close to him until one of them was thoroughly off the market and she was certain that there was no possibility of life heading in that dangerous direction. He couldn't allow that, so he buried his feelings deeper than he buried thoughts of the war and it was only times like these that they came back out. Times when he was made painfully aware of her lack of regard for him in any manner than that of an almost brother.

"Harry, I'm not so sure this is a good idea." She tried to persuade him again but he was already settled down next to her with his glasses off and placed on her bedside table.

"We've been searching for something to fix this for over six months Hermione. We've tried everything and so far this is the only thing that has worked. I'm not going to give up this chance to live like a normal person, for you to be healthy again just because you don't like having to be this close to me. Sure, it's not quite normal but it is better than nothing and it won't affect anything until you start seeing someone and even then I'm certain that whoever it is will understand, if that's what you're worried about." He continued to rant on about why it shouldn't matter for a little while until he stopped suddenly as though he had been hit. Then with the oddest look on his face, he asked "Unless you're already seeing someone?"

He didn't even wait for a reply before he was scrambling out of her bed towards the door, all the while apologizing under his breathe and mumbling something about stupidity.

He couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of that before and it was really the only thing that he could think of that would cause her to be so repulsed by sharing a bed with him. He had been preparing himself for this day since he realized that he loved her but that didn't make it hurt any less. Thinking about a hypothetical boyfriend and the real deal were such completely different things and even though he fully planned to support her, he wasn't ready just yet. He had been blindsided and right now there was no way he would be able to keep it together in her presence.

So he did what all heartbroken people do, he went off to find a place where he could sit peacefully in his misery. He knew it was petty but there wasn't much else he could do. He hadn't been able to stop his reaction and it was too late to pretend that it was all alright so his only option really was to think it all through and regroup.

Hermione stared after Harry, slightly shocked by what had just happened. She didn't understand what had set him off like that. She could count on her fingers the amount of times she had that look of deep sorrow on his face and most of them were related to the loss of someone he loved. She felt awful for putting that look there but she had no clue what had done it. She had only told him that she was unsure about this new sleeping arrangement and he had already known she had reservations about it that morning and then she hadn't even answered his question before he fled the room.

...His question.

Everyone has moments in their lives where they discover something new or realize something that they had been missing for years that been right under their noses. This was one of those moments. Because there was only one reason why someone would react that way to her being in a relationship.

He fancied her.

She felt so stupid because now that she knew it was just so obvious. She had spent years thinking that relationships were supposed to be stormed into and untamable. Fires that left you out of breathe and on your knees but Harry loved people in the most undramatic way possible. While others charged in, he hung back, slowly carving his way. His quiet devotion was so easy to miss but meant so much more than any show of affection could possibly mean. Instead of stealing her breathe away he became the air she needed, in the sweetest way possible he had her begging. She needed him and instead of making it into something showy he was simply there when he was needed. He became exactly what she wanted.

Suddenly she felt so incredibly undeserving. The way he loved was so pure compared to hers, his honesty and devotion told her that he would be there no matter what she did to him. Yes, she loved him and had been devoted to him for years but something told her that she was a whole lot more selfish about it than he was.

He was willing to bow out, to leave her to someone else as long as she was happy but she most certainly wasn't. As far as she was concerned 'if you love them than let them go' was not a good principal. If she was being honest with herself she would say that she had merely been waiting for the first sign that he was in any way willing before she let loose.

She couldn't pass him up any more than she could pass up the chance to rid herself of nightmares.

She was out of bed and following Harry down the hall before she had time to think it through any further.

"Harry... Harry." She rounded the corner to find him sitting on the floor with his back slumped against the wall and his head in his hands, looking almost worse than he did when he found out that Voldemort was back for the second time. Only he would think that her having a boyfriend was worse than a war. It made her feel horrible that he would think that this was even remotely comparable to the darkest time in their lives, it showed her that he loved her more deeply than he did just about anything else in his entire life.

When he didn't look up or even acknowledge her presence she knelt down in front of him and tried to tug his hands away from his face, noticing that he must have left his glasses on her bedside in his haste to escape. Which explained why she had no trouble finding him because he never got far without them.

His hands didn't budge and she almost growled in annoyance. She huffed and sat down beside him mumbling under her breathe before softening slightly when she saw that he was genuinely distraught at thinking she was seeing someone other than him.

"Harry..." still no reply but she carried on anyway. "You didn't give me a chance to answer your question-"

He stiffened at her side and immediately cut her off "It wasn't my business, I shouldn't have pried. If you wanted to tell me then you would have, I'm sorry." He looked like he was going to make another run for it so she grabbed onto his arm and held him firmly in place.

"I don't have a boyfriend Harry!" She said sharply, getting angry at herself now for letting him even think that for a moment. "I don't even fancy anyone... I mean anyone but y..." She couldn't finish, second guessing herself now that she was actually about to say something. What if she was wrong and he didn't feel the same way and it had all just been the saddest kind of wishful thinking?

She turned to look at him, only realizing then that she had his full attention and that he was now looking at her rather intently as if he could read the answer in her expression. She didn't know what to say and he was so close, only a slight tilt of the head away, so she did the only thing that would fully express what she meant without words. She kissed him.

There were many things that she enjoyed, loved even, quiet afternoons in the library, the smell of pages in a new book, spending time by the fire watching her two closest friends play wizards chess but none of it compared to the feel of Harry's lips. They were soft and warm and they felt like they were made just for hers.

She sighed into the kiss as Harry began to respond and that was all it took for her thoughts to flee. Years of pain and anguish disappeared and for the first time in so long she felt like everything was right in the world. One touch was all it took for her to not only stop thinking about the war but to forget there ever was a war. One taste and she was sure that she would die happy.

She turned her head to get a better angle and deepen the kiss, feeling his teeth lightly nibble on her bottom lip. She tentatively ran her tongue across his lips hoping that he would let her in and she couldn't help but smile when he did, pleased with herself.

His reaction however caught her slightly off guard. One minute they were sharing the sweetest kiss of her life and the next Harry had wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him so that she was straddling his lap, all the while his tongue was becoming thoroughly acquainted with her mouth. Her hands found their way to his hair and she began to pull at the inky strands while she moved herself even closer into him while his hands began to wander.

Unfortunately they still needed to breathe and eventually they pulled back but only long enough for him to whisper 'I love you' against her lips. After that she couldn't be stopped and soon they were making their way back to her bedroom but this time there were things other than a good night's sleep on their minds.

That night she found that despite his 'quiet devotion' Harry was more than able to kindle a flame and that he could be passionate with the right persuasion. And of course the sleep afterwards was peaceful too.

He was crawling across the pure white snow, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He couldn't walk, but he stilled hoped desperately that he would get there in time to save her. He could hear her screams and their vicious laughter but he couldn't see them, in fact he couldn't see anything. All around him as far as he could see there was only white, endless white.

He gasped in pain as his leg hit a hidden rock right against one of the deep cuts the severing spell had made in his flesh. It slowed his progress considerably as did the loss of blood but he kept trying, kept moving.

…Until he heard one last heart wrenching cry and gave up.

"Harry!" Hermione was hovering over him with a worried expression plastered on her face and seeing it caused him to relax immediately. She was alright, she was safe.

He tried to give her reassuring smile, she didn't need the worry, she had only just gotten back from a trip to Australia to visit her parents. He hadn't been able to go because Hogwarts couldn't stand to lose two of its professors at the same time in the middle of the year so he held the fort as a favor to McGonagall while Hermione made the much overdue trip.

Things had been a lot better for them since that night eight years ago, they had gone back to Hogwarts to finish their seventh year and then proceeded to take positions as teachers at their most beloved school and then as soon as they were settled Harry had proposed. Now they were happily married and expecting their first child in about six months.

Of course things weren't perfect, they fought like any couple and while the nightmares were held at bay by the others presence they came back the moment the other was gone. Things were never completely normal, they both slept with their wands underneath their pillows and Hermione was always overly suspicious of magical artifacts while Harry refused to go anywhere near the astronomy tower no matter what reason was given. Flash backs and panic attacks were their main problem after they got together but eventually they too became less and less common. They would never forget what they had seen, could never forget but they could move on.

No things weren't perfect but they were as close as they could be for the survivors of nightmares and war.