Gift for stelladelnordxd from flipflop_diva
To: stelladelnordxd
From: flipflop_diva
Title: In Dreams They Speak
Summary: It wasn’t like Harry didn’t know what he should do. But knowing what you should do and actually doing it are two completely different things.
Characters/Pairings: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Sirius Black
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Word Count: 1,596
Author’s Note: Thank you to my beautiful beta Crystal for looking at this last minute! And thank you to Steph for hosting this and giving me some most-needed extra time. Jamie, I took inspiration from your prompts of Sirius and Harry having a father-son moment and spring time. I hope you enjoy!
It was springtime. The flowers were in bloom. Open. Vibrant. Beautiful. He couldn’t remember ever seeing so many in one place, nor could he remember them being so large. Some were almost as tall as he was. But it didn’t stop him from running through them, laughing as petals brushed his face.
She was just ahead of him, long brown hair flying behind her, her cloak billowing in the gentle breeze. He could hear her calling to him, could see her turn around to check if he was still there, a smile wide on her face.
He reached out for her, but his fingers slipped right through the fabric of her clothes, snagging only air.
He tried again, confused, but this time she turned away from him and picked up speed. He called out for her to stop, but she didn’t hear him. He tried to run faster, but she ducked around a flower. And then she was gone.
The breeze stopped too.
The flowers stood tall and stoic, blocking his path.
He felt a presence behind him. He turned, hoping it was her somehow, but the sight sent relief through him all the same. Sirius smiled at him, in that kind way he used to smile at him when he was alive.
“Harry,” Sirius said, and his voice, though gentle, sounded almost reproachful, “You can’t keep letting her get away like that, son. You don’t have forever.”
•••
Harry’s eyes snapped open and he sprang upright, gasping, only falling back when he realized that he wasn’t in a bed of flowers but in his own bed in the room he shared with Ron in their own flat. It was just a dream, but the same dream he’d had for the fifth time in the same amount of days, and just like the other four times, his stomach felt clenched in knots, from anxiety or fear or maybe something else entirely.
Harry lifted his hand to his head and tried to force himself to remember that it wasn’t real, that it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
“The dream again, mate?”
Harry turned his head to see Ron propped up on an elbow, staring at him. “No,” he muttered, but at Ron’s persistent stare, he sighed. “Yes. Again.”
“For Merlin’s sake, Harry, why don’t you just go tell Hermione how you feel so you can get on with things? You know dream Sirius is right.”
“Dream Sirius is dead.”
“He’s still right.”
Harry glared at his best mate. Sometimes he really regretted the idea to get a flat together and spend all their time together. He also really regretted ever telling him he thought his feelings for Hermione might be more than friendship.
“’Sides,” Harry grumbled. “She’s moving to Paris in a couple weeks.”
“She hasn’t said yes to the job yet.”
“But she wants to.”
Something whacked him in the side of the head. He looked down at the new pillow that had landed on his bed and then glared at Ron. “What was that for?”
“For you being a bloody nitwit is what,” Ron said. “Fleur’s father offered her the job three weeks ago. She’s not waiting to say yes because she really wants to go. How are you so dense?”
“I am not dense.”
“If I’m telling you you’re dense, you are,” Ron said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “We both know how helpless I am with girls.”
“I still don’t know why you want this so bad. You used to have a crush on Hermione.”
Ron stood up. “For ten minutes when we were fourteen. You’ve been in love with her for years. And I can’t stand another day of the two of you moping around and not doing anything about it.”
“I am not in love with her,” Harry said sulkily, but even he realized how childish that sounded.
“You should go see her today,” Ron said.
“She’s having a girls’ day with Luna and Ginny.”
“So?”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Harry said. He didn’t want to admit that the idea of asking Hermione to stay had been in his head for days, but the thought of it almost made him want to hurl.
“You really are helpless, mate,” Ron said, and he shook his head at Harry as he exited the room.
•••
That night the dream was different. He was in a dark room, with no visible doors or windows, and it was cold. Freezing really. Harry rubbed his hands over his arms but neither the motion of that nor the thin clothes he was wearing seemed to provide any protection.
“Ron’s right,” said a voice just behind him. Harry didn’t even jump. It was like he had been expecting him to be there. “You’re running out of time.”
“You’re dead,” Harry said.
Sirius laughed. “Come on, Harry,” he said. “You’ve been part of this world for ten years. Do you really think such a little thing as death could keep us apart?”
Harry frowned at that, but didn’t reply.
“Besides, you’re changing the subject,” Sirius said.
“Why do you care so much?”
“Why shouldn’t I care? You’re my godson. I want you to be happy.” Harry felt Sirius move to stand beside him, although he couldn’t see anything more than his outline in the dark room.
Sirius sighed, but it was a noise of contentment. “Your father was quite stubborn too,” he said.
“I’m not stubborn,” Harry said.
“But it was a different kind of stubborn. Your father wouldn’t give up when it came to your mum. Do you know how many times he had to ask her out before she said yes?”
“I’m not going to ask Hermione out more than once.”
“Why do you think she would say no?”
“She’s moving to Paris.”
“She hasn’t said yes.”
“You sound like Ron.”
“Maybe Ron’s right.”
Harry snorted, but Sirius didn’t laugh.
“You know what I think?” Sirius said. Harry had a feeling he was going to tell him even if he told his godfather he didn’t care. “I don’t think you’re scared she’s going to say no. I think you’re scared she’s going to say yes.”
Harry scoffed. “That makes no sense.”
“Of course it does,” Sirius said. “You’ve lost so many people in your life. You’re afraid if you try this and it doesn’t work that you’ll lose her too.”
Harry frowned at that. He wasn’t sure he actually was afraid of that, but it was a sound point. “Great,” he said. “Even more reason not to.”
“But,” Sirius continued, “what if it does work out? Did you ever think of that?”
Harry sighed. “I can’t lose her,” he said quietly.
He felt Sirius’ hand on his shoulder. “Just trust me,” he said. “You won’t.”
•••
Harry lifted his hand to knock and froze. He had never seen a more intimidating door in his life. Which was stupid really. He knocked on this door all the time, almost every day, in fact. He probably spent more time sitting on Hermione’s couch than his own. And why should a door be intimidating anyway? He had destroyed Horcruxes and faced Voldemort and Death Eaters and almost died countless times.
No, a door was not going to be what beat him.
He gritted his teeth and pounded his fist against the solid oak. Barely an instant later, it swung open, and Harry had to fight the urge to bolt.
“Harry!” Hermione grinned at him. Harry swallowed. She was dressed in an old pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt, with her hair loose and tangled around her head. He had never seen her look more beautiful.
“I didn’t know you were coming over,” she said. She opened the door wider to let him enter, but instead he just stood there. It was now or never.
“Don’t go to Paris,” he blurted.
The smile on her face faded instantly. “What?”
“Don’t go to Paris,” he repeated, this time more calmly.
“Harry,” she said. “It’s a very good career opportunity. You know I can’t just pass this up.”
“You haven’t said yes yet.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I want you to stay.”
“Harry-”
“For me. I want you to stay for me.”
Hermione blinked. “Harry, what’s going on?”
Harry closed his eyes for a brief second. “You can’t keep letting her get away like that, son,” dream Sirius had said. “You don’t have forever.”
“I love you,” he said, summoning as much confidence into his voice as possible. “I am in love with you. I want to be with you. Here. In London. Please don’t take the job.”
He forced himself to meet her eyes. She was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t really read. Confusion maybe? Or horror? He thought again about turning around and running.
But then suddenly he couldn’t move. Something was around his neck and something else was against his lips. Something soft. And … oh.
Harry pulled back to look at her. She was beaming. He thought maybe there was moisture in her eyes but he couldn’t be sure.
“Hermione?” he whispered.
“It sure took you long enough to ask,” she said.
Two hours later, tangled together in her bed sheets, his arm wrapped tight around her, he felt himself finally let out the breath of air he felt he’d been holding within him for weeks.
“So does this mean you aren’t going to Paris?” he asked quietly.
She slapped him playfully on the chest. Harry laughed.
“Good,” he said. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Kristine | Puff | 53 points
From: flipflop_diva
Title: In Dreams They Speak
Summary: It wasn’t like Harry didn’t know what he should do. But knowing what you should do and actually doing it are two completely different things.
Characters/Pairings: Harry Potter/Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Sirius Black
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Word Count: 1,596
Author’s Note: Thank you to my beautiful beta Crystal for looking at this last minute! And thank you to Steph for hosting this and giving me some most-needed extra time. Jamie, I took inspiration from your prompts of Sirius and Harry having a father-son moment and spring time. I hope you enjoy!
It was springtime. The flowers were in bloom. Open. Vibrant. Beautiful. He couldn’t remember ever seeing so many in one place, nor could he remember them being so large. Some were almost as tall as he was. But it didn’t stop him from running through them, laughing as petals brushed his face.
She was just ahead of him, long brown hair flying behind her, her cloak billowing in the gentle breeze. He could hear her calling to him, could see her turn around to check if he was still there, a smile wide on her face.
He reached out for her, but his fingers slipped right through the fabric of her clothes, snagging only air.
He tried again, confused, but this time she turned away from him and picked up speed. He called out for her to stop, but she didn’t hear him. He tried to run faster, but she ducked around a flower. And then she was gone.
The breeze stopped too.
The flowers stood tall and stoic, blocking his path.
He felt a presence behind him. He turned, hoping it was her somehow, but the sight sent relief through him all the same. Sirius smiled at him, in that kind way he used to smile at him when he was alive.
“Harry,” Sirius said, and his voice, though gentle, sounded almost reproachful, “You can’t keep letting her get away like that, son. You don’t have forever.”
•••
Harry’s eyes snapped open and he sprang upright, gasping, only falling back when he realized that he wasn’t in a bed of flowers but in his own bed in the room he shared with Ron in their own flat. It was just a dream, but the same dream he’d had for the fifth time in the same amount of days, and just like the other four times, his stomach felt clenched in knots, from anxiety or fear or maybe something else entirely.
Harry lifted his hand to his head and tried to force himself to remember that it wasn’t real, that it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
“The dream again, mate?”
Harry turned his head to see Ron propped up on an elbow, staring at him. “No,” he muttered, but at Ron’s persistent stare, he sighed. “Yes. Again.”
“For Merlin’s sake, Harry, why don’t you just go tell Hermione how you feel so you can get on with things? You know dream Sirius is right.”
“Dream Sirius is dead.”
“He’s still right.”
Harry glared at his best mate. Sometimes he really regretted the idea to get a flat together and spend all their time together. He also really regretted ever telling him he thought his feelings for Hermione might be more than friendship.
“’Sides,” Harry grumbled. “She’s moving to Paris in a couple weeks.”
“She hasn’t said yes to the job yet.”
“But she wants to.”
Something whacked him in the side of the head. He looked down at the new pillow that had landed on his bed and then glared at Ron. “What was that for?”
“For you being a bloody nitwit is what,” Ron said. “Fleur’s father offered her the job three weeks ago. She’s not waiting to say yes because she really wants to go. How are you so dense?”
“I am not dense.”
“If I’m telling you you’re dense, you are,” Ron said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “We both know how helpless I am with girls.”
“I still don’t know why you want this so bad. You used to have a crush on Hermione.”
Ron stood up. “For ten minutes when we were fourteen. You’ve been in love with her for years. And I can’t stand another day of the two of you moping around and not doing anything about it.”
“I am not in love with her,” Harry said sulkily, but even he realized how childish that sounded.
“You should go see her today,” Ron said.
“She’s having a girls’ day with Luna and Ginny.”
“So?”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Harry said. He didn’t want to admit that the idea of asking Hermione to stay had been in his head for days, but the thought of it almost made him want to hurl.
“You really are helpless, mate,” Ron said, and he shook his head at Harry as he exited the room.
•••
That night the dream was different. He was in a dark room, with no visible doors or windows, and it was cold. Freezing really. Harry rubbed his hands over his arms but neither the motion of that nor the thin clothes he was wearing seemed to provide any protection.
“Ron’s right,” said a voice just behind him. Harry didn’t even jump. It was like he had been expecting him to be there. “You’re running out of time.”
“You’re dead,” Harry said.
Sirius laughed. “Come on, Harry,” he said. “You’ve been part of this world for ten years. Do you really think such a little thing as death could keep us apart?”
Harry frowned at that, but didn’t reply.
“Besides, you’re changing the subject,” Sirius said.
“Why do you care so much?”
“Why shouldn’t I care? You’re my godson. I want you to be happy.” Harry felt Sirius move to stand beside him, although he couldn’t see anything more than his outline in the dark room.
Sirius sighed, but it was a noise of contentment. “Your father was quite stubborn too,” he said.
“I’m not stubborn,” Harry said.
“But it was a different kind of stubborn. Your father wouldn’t give up when it came to your mum. Do you know how many times he had to ask her out before she said yes?”
“I’m not going to ask Hermione out more than once.”
“Why do you think she would say no?”
“She’s moving to Paris.”
“She hasn’t said yes.”
“You sound like Ron.”
“Maybe Ron’s right.”
Harry snorted, but Sirius didn’t laugh.
“You know what I think?” Sirius said. Harry had a feeling he was going to tell him even if he told his godfather he didn’t care. “I don’t think you’re scared she’s going to say no. I think you’re scared she’s going to say yes.”
Harry scoffed. “That makes no sense.”
“Of course it does,” Sirius said. “You’ve lost so many people in your life. You’re afraid if you try this and it doesn’t work that you’ll lose her too.”
Harry frowned at that. He wasn’t sure he actually was afraid of that, but it was a sound point. “Great,” he said. “Even more reason not to.”
“But,” Sirius continued, “what if it does work out? Did you ever think of that?”
Harry sighed. “I can’t lose her,” he said quietly.
He felt Sirius’ hand on his shoulder. “Just trust me,” he said. “You won’t.”
•••
Harry lifted his hand to knock and froze. He had never seen a more intimidating door in his life. Which was stupid really. He knocked on this door all the time, almost every day, in fact. He probably spent more time sitting on Hermione’s couch than his own. And why should a door be intimidating anyway? He had destroyed Horcruxes and faced Voldemort and Death Eaters and almost died countless times.
No, a door was not going to be what beat him.
He gritted his teeth and pounded his fist against the solid oak. Barely an instant later, it swung open, and Harry had to fight the urge to bolt.
“Harry!” Hermione grinned at him. Harry swallowed. She was dressed in an old pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt, with her hair loose and tangled around her head. He had never seen her look more beautiful.
“I didn’t know you were coming over,” she said. She opened the door wider to let him enter, but instead he just stood there. It was now or never.
“Don’t go to Paris,” he blurted.
The smile on her face faded instantly. “What?”
“Don’t go to Paris,” he repeated, this time more calmly.
“Harry,” she said. “It’s a very good career opportunity. You know I can’t just pass this up.”
“You haven’t said yes yet.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I want you to stay.”
“Harry-”
“For me. I want you to stay for me.”
Hermione blinked. “Harry, what’s going on?”
Harry closed his eyes for a brief second. “You can’t keep letting her get away like that, son,” dream Sirius had said. “You don’t have forever.”
“I love you,” he said, summoning as much confidence into his voice as possible. “I am in love with you. I want to be with you. Here. In London. Please don’t take the job.”
He forced himself to meet her eyes. She was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t really read. Confusion maybe? Or horror? He thought again about turning around and running.
But then suddenly he couldn’t move. Something was around his neck and something else was against his lips. Something soft. And … oh.
Harry pulled back to look at her. She was beaming. He thought maybe there was moisture in her eyes but he couldn’t be sure.
“Hermione?” he whispered.
“It sure took you long enough to ask,” she said.
Two hours later, tangled together in her bed sheets, his arm wrapped tight around her, he felt himself finally let out the breath of air he felt he’d been holding within him for weeks.
“So does this mean you aren’t going to Paris?” he asked quietly.
She slapped him playfully on the chest. Harry laughed.
“Good,” he said. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Kristine | Puff | 53 points