fic: "Visions and Visitations, 1/?" Harry Potter.
Visions and Visitations, 1/?
Harry/Hermione, post-war. Spoilers for DH.
Rated PG-13.
Summary: Dreams are getting married in July or taking a bubble bath. Lucius Malfoy advancing on you, his eyes burning with hatred? That’s a nightmare.
For Megg: my best friend, my partner in crime, my sister.
----
CHAPTER ONE: Visions
Vision (n): 1. The faculty or state of being able to see.
2. An experience of seeing someone or something in a dream or trance, or as a supernatural apparition.
Hermione used to forget that the war was over. At least twice a week she woke up, reaching for a wand that wasn’t by her bed or a knife that wasn’t resting under her pillow. For a split second she was terrified--dreading a blast of green light or a bellowed curse.
Harry didn’t understand what was wrong. He tried, of course. He stroked Hermione’s hair and whispered “shh” and “it’s all right, pet, it was just a dream.” But it wasn’t all right and it wasn’t just a dream. Dreams are when you come to class in your underwear or fail all your exams. Dreams are getting married in July or taking a bubble bath. Lucius Malfoy advancing on you, his eyes burning with hatred? That’s a nightmare.
On the surface it seemed like it had been easy to pick up the pieces after the war. Harry proposed to Hermione six months after the final battle (she said yes six seconds after that). Ron harrumphed and stomped around until he got an owl from Luna Lovegood inquiring if he had been vaccinated against Jabberwockies. Ron said yes and took her out for tea and stopped glaring quite so much.
Molly and Arthur packed up Fred’s things and sent them to George. Percy started dropping by the Burrow for dinner. Bill and Fleur announced they were having a baby. Ginny graduated from Hogwarts--her seventh year was rather uneventful, especially when compared to her sixth. She moved to France, intending to study language. Teddy Lupin was passed around from one Wizarding family to the next--in the absence of parents, he acquired an unseemly amount of uncles and aunts.
In the midst of it all, Hermione kept waking in a cold sweat, shaking with terror that she hadn’t felt in a year. Harry suggested sleeping pills, but Hermione was afraid she wouldn’t wake up. Ron lent her one of Luna’s protective amulets, but Hermione purposefully forgot to take it home. Molly offered to read Hermione’s tealeaves. The young witch tried to conceal a snort of contempt.
For the most part, Harry kept his mouth shut. He didn’t make a fuss when Hermione wanted to keep her wand under her pillow and he let her set wards all over their tiny apartment. Harry bit his lip when Hermione speculated that her new officemate was a former Death Eater and he calmed her down when she came home from work convinced that she had been followed. One night, however, it became too much for him to bear.
“I saw him,” Hermione wailed the instant she had Apparated into the apartment. “I saw him, Harry.”
Harry tried to make out her words through her sobs, but all he could hear was “Malfoy.”
“Malfoy? Don’t worry, Hermione. Draco Malfoy is in Azkaban.”
Hermione shook her head. “I saw Lucius.”
Harry froze, “Lucius is dead, pet.”
The witch glared at him. “I know that! I’m not an idiot, Harry. I swear, I saw him outside my office.”
“That’s impossible,” Harry said flatly, pulling away. “You killed him yourself.”
Hermione’s words were so soft Harry almost missed them. “Maybe that’s why he’s back.”
“Back from where? From Hell? Because that’s where he ended up, I promise.”
“What about my dreams? What if they were some kind of--“ Hermione stopped, blushing.
Harry just smirked. “Prophesy?” The young witch didn’t respond. “I never thought I’d see the day when Hermione Granger advocated Divination.”
“Well if you’re just going to make fun of me...” Hermione snapped, storming toward their bedroom.
Harry caught her arm. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He took a deep breath. “But, Hermione, please listen to yourself. Lucius Malfoy has been dead for a year.”
“I know,” Hermione’s voice was quiet and sad. “I know.”
Harry sighed and held her closer. “Are you okay?”
Hermione broke away, trying not to cry. “I’m fine,” she whispered. Harry didn’t believe her for a minute, but he knew better than to pry. He let her go, watching as she slowly walked into the bedroom. He tried not to flinch when the door shut with a harsh click.
Inside the bedroom, Hermione collapsed into herself. She shook violently, remembering the final battle. Lucius had separated her from the others, cornered her and waited, watching her like a hawk. Hermione knew that he wanted her to cry, scream, and panic. He wanted Hermione to beg for her life, but she would be damned if she cracked in front of Lucius Malfoy. With a calm Hermione had never felt--before or since--she raised her wand and cried Avada Kedavra. It was exactly the way she had imagined it in her darkest nightmares: the rush of green light, the thump of his falling body, the bile that rose in her throat. She sank to her knees, crying at the knowledge that she had killed a human. A terrible, evil man, but a man nonetheless.
The war changed everyone. George lost a twin; Teddy lost parents he barely knew. Harry lost his greatest nemesis (which wasn’t a loss, not really); Ron lost his easy humor. Hermione lost her innocence. She could still remember Lucius’ grin--frozen on his lifeless face.
That night, Hermione couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, hating Harry lying beside her in his easy, untroubled sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Lucius--Lucius waving his wand, Lucius killing her family, her friends, her fiancé. She saw Lucius laughing, saw piles of bodies, saw his lips twist into the imitation of a smile. “I told you I’d be back,” he said, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Hermione screamed until Harry shook her awake.
Harry/Hermione, post-war. Spoilers for DH.
Rated PG-13.
Summary: Dreams are getting married in July or taking a bubble bath. Lucius Malfoy advancing on you, his eyes burning with hatred? That’s a nightmare.
For Megg: my best friend, my partner in crime, my sister.
----
CHAPTER ONE: Visions
Vision (n): 1. The faculty or state of being able to see.
2. An experience of seeing someone or something in a dream or trance, or as a supernatural apparition.
Hermione used to forget that the war was over. At least twice a week she woke up, reaching for a wand that wasn’t by her bed or a knife that wasn’t resting under her pillow. For a split second she was terrified--dreading a blast of green light or a bellowed curse.
Harry didn’t understand what was wrong. He tried, of course. He stroked Hermione’s hair and whispered “shh” and “it’s all right, pet, it was just a dream.” But it wasn’t all right and it wasn’t just a dream. Dreams are when you come to class in your underwear or fail all your exams. Dreams are getting married in July or taking a bubble bath. Lucius Malfoy advancing on you, his eyes burning with hatred? That’s a nightmare.
On the surface it seemed like it had been easy to pick up the pieces after the war. Harry proposed to Hermione six months after the final battle (she said yes six seconds after that). Ron harrumphed and stomped around until he got an owl from Luna Lovegood inquiring if he had been vaccinated against Jabberwockies. Ron said yes and took her out for tea and stopped glaring quite so much.
Molly and Arthur packed up Fred’s things and sent them to George. Percy started dropping by the Burrow for dinner. Bill and Fleur announced they were having a baby. Ginny graduated from Hogwarts--her seventh year was rather uneventful, especially when compared to her sixth. She moved to France, intending to study language. Teddy Lupin was passed around from one Wizarding family to the next--in the absence of parents, he acquired an unseemly amount of uncles and aunts.
In the midst of it all, Hermione kept waking in a cold sweat, shaking with terror that she hadn’t felt in a year. Harry suggested sleeping pills, but Hermione was afraid she wouldn’t wake up. Ron lent her one of Luna’s protective amulets, but Hermione purposefully forgot to take it home. Molly offered to read Hermione’s tealeaves. The young witch tried to conceal a snort of contempt.
For the most part, Harry kept his mouth shut. He didn’t make a fuss when Hermione wanted to keep her wand under her pillow and he let her set wards all over their tiny apartment. Harry bit his lip when Hermione speculated that her new officemate was a former Death Eater and he calmed her down when she came home from work convinced that she had been followed. One night, however, it became too much for him to bear.
“I saw him,” Hermione wailed the instant she had Apparated into the apartment. “I saw him, Harry.”
Harry tried to make out her words through her sobs, but all he could hear was “Malfoy.”
“Malfoy? Don’t worry, Hermione. Draco Malfoy is in Azkaban.”
Hermione shook her head. “I saw Lucius.”
Harry froze, “Lucius is dead, pet.”
The witch glared at him. “I know that! I’m not an idiot, Harry. I swear, I saw him outside my office.”
“That’s impossible,” Harry said flatly, pulling away. “You killed him yourself.”
Hermione’s words were so soft Harry almost missed them. “Maybe that’s why he’s back.”
“Back from where? From Hell? Because that’s where he ended up, I promise.”
“What about my dreams? What if they were some kind of--“ Hermione stopped, blushing.
Harry just smirked. “Prophesy?” The young witch didn’t respond. “I never thought I’d see the day when Hermione Granger advocated Divination.”
“Well if you’re just going to make fun of me...” Hermione snapped, storming toward their bedroom.
Harry caught her arm. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He took a deep breath. “But, Hermione, please listen to yourself. Lucius Malfoy has been dead for a year.”
“I know,” Hermione’s voice was quiet and sad. “I know.”
Harry sighed and held her closer. “Are you okay?”
Hermione broke away, trying not to cry. “I’m fine,” she whispered. Harry didn’t believe her for a minute, but he knew better than to pry. He let her go, watching as she slowly walked into the bedroom. He tried not to flinch when the door shut with a harsh click.
Inside the bedroom, Hermione collapsed into herself. She shook violently, remembering the final battle. Lucius had separated her from the others, cornered her and waited, watching her like a hawk. Hermione knew that he wanted her to cry, scream, and panic. He wanted Hermione to beg for her life, but she would be damned if she cracked in front of Lucius Malfoy. With a calm Hermione had never felt--before or since--she raised her wand and cried Avada Kedavra. It was exactly the way she had imagined it in her darkest nightmares: the rush of green light, the thump of his falling body, the bile that rose in her throat. She sank to her knees, crying at the knowledge that she had killed a human. A terrible, evil man, but a man nonetheless.
The war changed everyone. George lost a twin; Teddy lost parents he barely knew. Harry lost his greatest nemesis (which wasn’t a loss, not really); Ron lost his easy humor. Hermione lost her innocence. She could still remember Lucius’ grin--frozen on his lifeless face.
That night, Hermione couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, hating Harry lying beside her in his easy, untroubled sleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Lucius--Lucius waving his wand, Lucius killing her family, her friends, her fiancé. She saw Lucius laughing, saw piles of bodies, saw his lips twist into the imitation of a smile. “I told you I’d be back,” he said, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
Hermione screamed until Harry shook her awake.