A/N: This is my first attempt at a Harry Potter fanfic, though I've really enjoyed reading tons of them. Just to let everyone know, this takes place when H/H/R are in the 7th year. Oh, and the title is subject to change. Anyway, I hope this is decent for a first effort. Always love to hear what people think (so please r/r!), and I could really use a beta reader, if anyone is interested.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, or anything related to Harry Potter. I'm also not making any money, and therefore not a worthwhile person to sue.
Chapter One
That Dream
He probably wouldn't have felt so bad about the whole thing if his dreams didn't have a tendency to come true. But, as they did, he was quite worried about the latest recurring dream he'd been having. Especially when considering who it was he was dreaming about . . . .
The dream was always the same. Practically everyone was in the common room, doing homework, playing chess, planning their next prank (ok, so that was just the Weasley twins), or just chatting. He was always in the corner, with his friends, working on Potions homework. Then, she would come walking in, and all activity in the common room would stop. She would glide in-feet never touching the ground-wearing white robes that seemed to float around her. Her long beautiful hair was down, flying behind her like there was some kind of wind that blew just on her. Her skin positively glowed, and her smile was enough to send all the male hearts in the room-save for her brothers' of course-into palpitations. When the male population of the room had picked their jaws up off the floor, they began to crowd around her, competing with each other just to get a gaze or a smile. Well, all except him. He sat there just watching, growing more and more upset at the sight before him. That's always when he turned to Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George with a look of indignation on his face that plainly said, 'you're allowing them to hit on your sister?' Ron was able to interpret that look on his face, and merely shrugged. "She's a big girl now Harry," he would say, more than a little amusement in his eyes.
"But she's your little sister!" he would always say, not comprehending how his best friend could be so blasé about the travesty that was occurring just a few feet away.
And Ron would always just shrug, replying "yes, she is, and she always will be, but she's growing up. She's hardly little anymore, is she?"
There was nothing he could do to deny this, but that didn't mean that he didn't try. So he tried a different tactic. "Well," he would inevitably say, "isn't she a bit young to be dating?"
Hermione would always answer this. "Whoever decided that there was an age limit to dating? Ron and I have been together since our fifth year, and you never said that I was too young to be dating."
Harry had to admit to himself that she was right. And he would always think to himself, but I never had an interest in you. And then he would wonder where that thought had come from. Hermione would smile sympathetically at him then, and say, not unkindly, "you didn't expect her to wait for you, did you?"
He would always ask himself this question, but he could never come up with an answer. At least, never an answer that he wanted to admit to. And then she would say, "she's moved on. She's over you." And then his closest friends would go back to their own thing, leaving him to watch, with growing horror, the sight of Ginny Weasley being drooled over by most of the male population of Hogwarts. And he would note with disgust how even Draco Malfoy couldn't keep his eyes off her. She never looked at him once and Hermione's words always came back to him . . . "you didn't expect her to wait for you, did you?" . . . "she's moved on. She's over you."
And that's when Harry Potter would wake up, dripping in sweat, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss that confused and disturbed him.
***
Harry looked over to see that it was just barely morning. Still too early to get up, but as he was unwilling and unable to fall back asleep, he rose, and made his way to the common room. He'd had that dream again, and though its meaning was painfully clear to him, he was quite unwilling to think about it. It was almost enough to make him wish that he would have a dream about Voldemort again. At least those nightmares he could understand. This dream was rather painful for him, as he couldn't comprehend why now, of all times, he was feeling attracted to . . . well, feeling what he might be feeling. It was really rather incomprehensible to him. Yes, he'd noticed lately that she had stopped stalking him. And, when he talked to her now, she was able to carry on a conversation without blushing. When these realizations had first hit him, he thought he'd been glad. He still didn't see her much, but at least when he did, he didn't feel awkward around her.
But now, after he'd had this exact same dream every night for two weeks straight, he wasn't so sure. Maybe he just missed the attention she used to give him. Yes, he thought, that was it.
Still, he mused, he'd never particularly enjoyed that kind of attention-nor,
truth be told, any kind of attention. Well, except maybe being good at Quidditch.
But besides that, he'd never been one to enjoy attention. So, he was forced
to admit, maybe that wasn't it at all. Maybe he really did feel something
for her. Just as he was mentally about to go down a path that he truly did
not savor, he was interrupted by the appearance of a gaggle of third year
girls. For once in his life, he was grateful for the giggles and the furtive
looks that were shot his way, as they were a distraction from the girl that
had occupied most of his thoughts for the last week. He could do this, he
resolved as he watched them head down to breakfast. He could just pretend
that he wasn't having that dream, or those feelings. Besides,
he realized, Ron probably wouldn't appreciate hearing about his best friend
having dreams like that about his sister. Not to mention feelings like those.
Possible feelings, he amended quickly. He had no feelings except,
perhaps, friendly or even brotherly feelings for Ginny Weasley. Yeah,
a small part of him thought wryly as Ron headed into the common room, maybe
if I tell myself that enough I might actually believe it.