To Dwell on Dreams: VI. Starting Over

Hermione lay stretched on the couch as Jane circled it, pointing her wand at Hermione and muttering incantations.

"Dominatio Inocuus …"

Hermione's field of vision shrank, Jane disappeared from its outskirts …

"Anima Corpus … Compactio …"

The room turned black …

"Incepto."

And she was back in her bed in Gryffindor Tower.

She sat up shakily, shoving the bedsheets away from her.  Her legs carried her out of the shadowy room silently, down the stairs, into the common room … she felt herself moving her legs, but could she stop them if she tried?

If you don't want to do this anymore, it's all right.  It's really OK.

I don't mind, she answered, heading for the stairway to the boys' dormitory.  She trod on each step gingerly, one at a time, up to the first floor.

Is he here?

No.

She climbed another flight.

Here?

Yes, in that room.

Hermione tiptoed through the door, past Neville and Ron.  Harry was curled up on his side, fast asleep.  For a moment, she just stood there, watching him; then she took him around the shoulders and gently shook him awake.  His eyes flipped open and landed on her.  Hermione quickly put a finger to her lips.  "Shh, don't wake the others.  Come with me."

She grabbed one of his hands.  Harry pushed himself up with the other and swung his legs over the bed.  He picked his glasses off his bedside table, putting them on clumsily as Hermione pulled him away.  They crept out of the room.

"Hmione, whazgoingon?" he mumbled, his eyelids drooping.

"Shh."

They hurried down the staircase as quietly as possible, Hermione's hand still gripping Harry's.  She kept glancing sideways at him; Hermione had a feeling Jane was trying to take in every detail of his appearance.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry repeated, "What's going on?  Where are we going?"

She steered him to a leather armchair in the common room and sat down in one opposite him.  Harry squinted sleepily at her.  She stared back, examining his scar, his eyes …

"What're you trying to do?" he asked confusedly.

She sighed heavily, looking down, and fingered a strand of her untidy brown hair.  Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice was whispering words she couldn't make out …

Her hair twisted between her fingers.  It grew longer, straighter, brighter … red.  She felt her face contract; it was now slightly thinner.  Her legs stretched and lengthened, as did her fingers … her skin lightened … everything about her body was steadily transforming into Lily Potter at the age of twenty-two …

When it was finished, she met Harry's gaze again.  His eyes were no longer half-closed, but wide and shocked; his whole face trembled with suppressed hope.

"H-Hermione, how did you do that?"

She looked sadly at him.  "I'm not Hermione," she corrected him in a new, slightly lower voice – Lily's.  "I'm your mother, Harry."

"You're not," Harry insisted, shaking his head, but not taking his eyes off her.  "You can't be … the dead can't come back!"

"I haven't come back," Lily said quickly.  "I'm just borrowing Hermione for a bit – with her permission, of course."

Harry's expression switched from disbelief to anger.  "Hermione, stop it.  Now.  This isn't funny."  His face was white and shaking.

Tears pricked the corners of Lily's eyes.  "I'm really not Hermione," she said, her voice quavering.  "Please, Harry … trust me …"

Harry was silent.  He seemed to be scrutinizing her for signs of dishonesty.

"I only have a minute to speak with you," Lily continued in a more urgent tone.  "I just – I just want to comfort you, somehow.  I know there are rough times ahead of you … but you're not as alone as you feel, even if we – your Dad and I, and Sirius – don't live in your world anymore.  And" – her voice rose – "I have finally found a true successor who will look after you, now that I can't."

"A successor?" Harry repeated.  "What do you mean?  Who is it?"

Lily barely hesitated.  "Hermione."

Harry's eyes narrowed.  He leaned away from her, clearly not about to trust anything else she said.

"I – I don't know how to make you believe me," said Lily desperately.  "This isn't some twisted joke – I really am your mother – oh, Harry!"  She smothered her mouth with her hands, forcing in the cry that had been about to escape.  Harry looked as though he wanted to reach out to her, but his hands stayed in his lap.  There was an uncomfortable pause.  Finally, in a gentler voice, he asked:

"Why is Hermione your 'successor'?  How can she look after me?  She's just my friend!"

"That's not true," Lily argued, lowering her hands.  A moment passed; suddenly a trace of a smirk flitted across her face.  "She's also my friend."

The effect was instantaneous.

"What!" Harry yelped.  "How could you know her?"

"I've gotten to know her just this week," she explained.  "That sounds impossible, I know, but – Hermione is the one living person I can still meet.  There's a middle ground, between your world and my world … it's the world of dreams … that's where Hermione and I see each other.  From now on, Hermione will be able to meet me whenever something comes up – that includes when you're in trouble.  I didn't have much time to be your mother while I was alive, but in a way, through her, I can still take care of you."

Harry pondered this for a moment.

"Why did you pick Hermione to be the one person you can still meet?" he questioned her at last.  "Why didn't you just choose … well … me, for instance?"

"It wasn't up to me," she said patiently.  "The conditions were that my successor would be someone I'd never met before.  She must have been chosen because she's a close friend of yours and, actually, she's a lot like me.  But listen, Harry, this is important – you can't ignore her like you did today, and like you've done a lot in the past, I hear."  Harry looked a bit taken aback.  "She's my successor … listen to what she has to say … if you shut her out, you shut me out as well.  Not to mention that it makes her miserable.  Will you promise me that you'll stay her friend?"

"I – I promise," Harry stammered uncertainly.

Lily smiled.  "You're a good boy."  She reached over to push aside Harry's fringe, revealing the scar.  Harry's eyes shifted awkwardly to the floor.

"It's a terrible burden to carry," she murmured, "that prophecy, especially at your age … but we're all rooting for you, Harry.  James and Sirius love you fiercely … the Order of the Phoenix will do all they can to keep you safe … you've got your best mate, Ron Weasley … and Hermione cares about you more than she shows."

Her hands moved to cradle his face.  Harry's eyes suddenly darted back up to her, and he said, "Mum – can I ask you something?"

"That depends on what it is," Lily answered with a shadow of a grin, dropping her hands into her lap.

"Does – does Sirius forgive me?  If I hadn't gone into the Department of Mysteries, he would still be alive … and do you forgive me, for making Voldemort kill you?  I – I've brought all of this on you, and Dad, and Sirius – and even Cedric –"

Lily interrupted him before he could get too caught up in his wretchedness.  "Harry, none of this was your fault.  You realize that, don't you?  Anyway, the three of us – your father, Sirius, and I – have to bear our own guilt of leaving you with only Petunia and that dratted Vernon for guardians.  You have done nothing that requires our forgiveness.  James and Sirius have said this themselves," she added, after seeing Harry shake his head disbelievingly.  "And I can speak for myself; I never, ever regret having died to save you."

Harry turned away, blinking a bit more rapidly than usual.

"You make us proud, you know," said Lily fondly, "not just for all the things you've done, but the way you, as a person, turned out despite all these – all these hardships.  You could easily have grown up to be toughened and bitter ….  But Harry," – the next words caught in her throat – "I have to leave you now.  My time's up."

"Wait," he said hastily –

"There's nothing I can do."  She was already transforming back into Hermione as she spoke.  "Just remember what I've told you … remember that you're not completely on your own …"

And with that, Lily was gone.

Hermione broke away from Harry's gaze quickly.  Could she control her own actions yet?  She lifted a finger from her knee and put it back down.  Good.  But she didn't know where to look next.  She glanced at Harry, who had chosen a spot to stare at on Hermione's right.  All she could hear was his breathing; she tried to keep her own as soft as possible.

Finally Hermione couldn't stand the tense silence anymore.

"Harry – yesterday when I fainted – that was when I realized that the girl in my visions was your mother."

Harry turned to her, astonishment plain in his face.  "You said it was my eyes …"

"They're the same as hers!"

He stared at her, open-mouthed, finally comprehending … but a sudden movement in the shadows caused both of them to whirl in the direction of the staircase to the boys' dormitory.  Ron had emerged from hiding behind the doorway.  He looked pale.

"Ron!  W-what are you doing up?" asked Harry, flabbergasted.

"I don't know what made me wake up," Ron said, walking timidly over to them, "but I saw your bed was empty – I wondered where you went."  He turned his dazed eyes on Hermione.  "So that's what it was, then?  You're Harry's mum's – 'successor'!"

Hermione's pensive mood evaporated swiftly.  Had Ron forgotten that he had barely spoken to her all week?  She resolutely closed her mouth and stared icily back at him.

"I mean, ah" – he looked nervously at Harry, then the floor – "I guess I had the wrong idea about things."

Hermione saw Harry glance at her out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't care.  She was going to sit it out till Ron acknowledged that he'd been a thoughtless, overreacting jerk.  This was one time she would not forgive him so readily …

"It's OK," she heard Harry say suddenly.  "Forget about it."  She glared at Harry accusingly.  He gave her an incredibly annoying, this-is-the-right-thing-to-do look.  Ron was watching her apprehensively; he quickly looked down when she caught his eye.

"That's the closest you'll ever get to an apology, isn't it?" she shot at Ron spitefully.  He continued to stare at the floor.  Defeated, she exhaled shakily.  "OK, whatever then," she muttered.

Ron lifted his gaze to her and gave her a rueful smile.  Hermione wanted to kick him.  But just then, he opened his mouth to speak:

"I'm sorry, Hermione.  I'm sorry, Harry."

They gaped at him, lost for words.

Harry was the first to make another sound.  "Wish I could have recorded that," he said, starting to grin.

"Hey!" protested Ron, before looking back at Hermione anxiously.  Hermione gazed at him in wonder.  Ron freely used many words Hermione would only refer to by their first letters; but after five years in his company, she had learned never to expect this particular S-word from him.

"Am I dreaming again?" she asked the air, then shuddered a little, remembering Jane.  She firmly pushed the memory out of her mind.  "I honestly can't tell if I am, anymore," she continued as though nothing had happened.  "I'm so exhausted …"

"Me too," said Harry.  "You woke me up, remember?"

"Oh, right."  She didn't have the energy to sound ashamed.  "Well, I'm off to bed.  Good night."  She hoisted herself off the chair into a standing position.  Harry shot her a tight little smile, clearly still contemplating what had happened.  She returned the smile and glanced at Ron before concentrating on the task at hand: staggering over to the other staircase.

From behind her, Harry said, "Let's go up," to which Ron mumbled his assent.

A couple of minutes later, Hermione turned off the faucet in the girl's bathroom and dried her hands on a nearby towel.  She yawned widely, wondering how late it was.  In the wide-spanning bathroom mirror, she inspected the reflection of a small window high up on the opposite wall.  The sky seemed to be lightening a little.  She glanced quickly at herself in the mirror, ready to go back to bed –

Her eyes were still green?!

She blinked – no, they were brown, as usual.  She must have been imagining things.

But before she could completely dismiss the incident as the product of a sleep-deprived mind, a voice in her head interrupted her:

Er, I just wanted to make sure everything worked out OK before I left … I'm going now, really.

The voice was so faint … she could easily have imagined that, too …

But what did it matter?  If that had really been Jane (which it couldn't have been, she told herself sternly), Jane would have nothing to worry about – everything had worked out OK.

Parvati and Lavender were snoring lightly when Hermione finally crawled up on her mattress.  As she closed her eyes, she felt a strange burst of affection for her roommates.  She no longer viewed them as silly girls whose only purpose in life was to giggle loudly whenever Hermione wanted to focus on homework.  If she hadn't been so jealous of their friendship – a fact she finally admitted to herself – she would have seen long ago that they were as capable of good and sensible deeds as she was.  They were just of a different "type," as Jane had said.  Maybe one day, Hermione, too, would feel no guilt in giggling about what she now deemed inconsequential matters.  "Freedom and happiness for all types …"

Thanks to Jane, she was beginning to understand the point of winning the war that was raging outside Hogwarts.

But meanwhile, she could dwell on the things that had happened within this school's walls.  Ron had uttered a proper apology for perhaps the first time in his life – certainly the first time in Hermione's presence.  Harry had met his mother fifteen years after her death.  Hermione had suddenly become his mother's "successor" – oh, the word seemed magical in itself!

Could it be that Harry had found a parent at last?  Hermione shivered to think that, in a way, she was taking Lily Potter's place.  And in the process, she had found a best friend – or two, or three.  She could want for nothing more.

She smiled and snuggled herself more comfortably under the covers.  Happy thoughts whizzed through her head in circles; she wondered how she would ever fall asleep with the commotion they were causing.  But fall asleep, she finally did – and tonight, her sleep was dreamless.

THE END

Author's End-of-Story Ramble: Well, there it is.  Hope you liked it.  Let me tell you, each of these chapters was five times longer than my usual English paper, and have I just spent a month writing this fanfic?  Disturbing.  This chapter, especially, was really difficult to write.  But lots of fun.

Would you know, the total number of reviews for this story jumped from 14 to 30 after I posted the fifth chapter.  First page!  This story finally ended up, for once, on the first page!  A dream come true, literally (not kidding, I think I mentioned it in an earlier chapter).  I do dearly hate Fanfiction.net's system of updating the listing periodically … but what can I say, it's free.  Anyways.  Thank you thank you to all reviewers.  Very heartening, it is, to know that people are reading something I've worked way too hard on.  Especial thanks to Ceire for getting more people to read this, and little miss narcissa and Ash for lots of beta-reading!

Oh right.  Before I forget.  A big thanks to J.K ROWLING!

Now, this is something I did not plan.  "Expecto Patronum" apparently means "to await the protector" … hmm.