(The epilogue doesn't exist in this story, obviously. 8th year continuation.)

/WARNING/ Despite the silly title, this story does actually get pretty dark. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Drarry

I hadn't forgotten that I had saved Draco. In fact, now that everything has started to wind down, it comes to my mind more often than usual. I don't know why I decided to go back into that fire to save him. At the time, I found it to be instinctual; a "no man left behind" instinct that brought me back to him.

Yet as I lie back on my bed at the Burrow, now in the hot month of August, I start to think it could have been something else that brought me back to him on that broomstick. Maybe it was his desperation. Maybe it was my pride. But whatever it was, it was enough to put me in the position of risking my life further by diving back in to save the white-blonde haired boy.

My thoughts are broken by the loud tramping on the stairs that I know to be Ron's. Within a few seconds he has burst into the room with a wide grin on his face.

" 'Mione's finally broken the charm on her parents. They're coming back to see her, and she wants them to meet me!" I give him a sideways look "and you too, of course." He quickly adds, his face reddening a bit. I smile.

"Brilliant Ron!" I stand up and clasp his shoulder in congratulations. "Are you nervous?" I ask him. A weird feeling rises in my chest...

"For some reason, I'm not!" Ron says, seemingly oblivious to my tightening grip on this shoulder. I shake my head slightly, and the feeling goes away. Odd. "I feel like, after all we've been through... well, this isn't exactly the most stressful thing that I've done." He smirks.

"That's really awesome Ron." I say, genuinely happy for him. I always knew, in the back of my mind, that Ron and Hermione would get together. Don't ask me how, I just could tell.

"We're meeting them after our trip to Diagon Alley. Speaking of which..." He turns to his bedside table, and picks up the single bit of parchment sitting there. He glances at it before stuffing it into his pocket, along with some sickles and knuts, and perhaps even a galleon or two. "It's about time we got on our way. We don't want to have to rush." He says. I nod, and run down the stairs, laughing as he nearly falls, the strange feeling from earlier forgotten.

When we enter the kitchen, we're greeted with the succulent smell of frying bacon and eggs, and some toast, jam, and kippers already waiting on the table.

"What's the special occasion, Mrs. Weasley?" I ask, jokingly. She smiles and puts a pitcher of pumpkin juice out in front of Ron and I, Ron's mouth visibly watering. I punch him lightly in the arm.

"Well, you two need your strength to get through all your back to school shopping!" She says, putting down her spoon and walking to Ron's side. "My ickle-ronnykin's going to be a big eighth year!" She exclaims animatedly while pinching Ron's cheek, earning a groan of annoyance from him. I stifle my laughs by stuffing a piece of toast in my mouth.

"Mum! We're only going back for our N.E.W.T.S!" Ron says, pushing his mother away.

Hogwarts, now under headmistress McGonnagall, has invited the previous year's seventh year students back to finish (and in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's case) begin their instruction. Professor McGonnagall wants to re-teach from the beginning, seeing as the curriculum was tainted by Voldemort's forces. All three gladly accepted, wanting to return to the place they fought so hard to protect.

"Hurry up and eat, now!" Mrs. Weasley pushes, and we do as we're told. "Where's Hermione?" She asks. Ron answers, his mouth full of half-chewed bacon.

"She's meeting us at The Leaky Cauldron after we finish shopping. She has family matters to attend to." He manages to say.

"Very nice people, the Grangers." She says, returning to her cooking. "Only met them briefly, but they were both very pleasant muggles." She says, respect clear in her voice. I smile as I finish eating.

After both having our fill, Ron and I trek upstairs to make sure we have everything we need.

"You know, this year's going to be hard for us... you especially." Ron says, quietly. I look at him.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well... just because... I mean, you were famous before, of course. But now... Harry, you defeated the bloody Dark Lord! You've hardly been able to leave the house all summer because of the crowds..." He says. "Everyone wants to know you, to be close to you... we don't know how it's going to affect you now..." He looks at me with concern. I return my gaze to my rucksack, trying to ignore Ron burning a hole into the back of my head. I turn to leave our room, but he grabs my shoulder, and spins me around.

"Ron." I say in a tone that tells him to drop it. But this time, it seems he doesn't want to listen.

"Don't think I don't know about your nightmares, Harry." He says, quietly. I try to turn and leave again, but he holds on harder. He flips me to face him again. "Harry, it's okay to be affected! You've faced horrors that no one could ever imagine." He runs one hand through his unruly red hair. "You've been to hell and back. It's okay to feel-"

"I'm fine." I say, cutting him off. I can't talk about it anymore.

"But Harry,-"

"Ron, drop it. If I have any problem, you'll be the first to know." I say. He finally backs off, although unhappily.

"Fine. But if you wake up screaming bloody murder one more time, I'll have to tell someone." He says, turning away. I reach out my hand to stop him.

"Wait!" I say. He turns. "I don't recall ever waking up and screaming..." I know the nightmares, and I know I scream, but I never keep screaming after I've woken up. "Am I actually awake?" I ask him.

"Well, yeah." He says, puzzled. "Your eyes are open, and you say sorry, in the same tone, every time it happens." Ron says. "You mutter some pretty freaky things after that though." He says

"What... what do I say?" I ask

"Well" he exclaims, seemingly slightly frightened. "Usually you say 'he must be killed' or 'no one is safe' and stuff like that, but you must just be having flashbacks of Vo-" he swallows. Old habits die hard for him. "Voldemort."

I nod, not wanting to show the fear that has just risen inside me. I don't remember this at all. All I remember are the dreams...