A/N: Hi! I'm still here! Ok, so in Austin Powers (the first one), you know when that guard is about to get run over by the steamroller and he has tons of space and time to move, but he doesn't, so he just stands there screaming until he does get run over? Yeah, that was life to me. Saw it coming, couldn't move, so I just stood there until I got run over. I've had this written out for about 3 weeks now, but I wasn't about to let it out without a beta (thank you Pips!). So it sat until I could puff myself up from the flattening, find a beta, and post this.

This IS the prequel to "Lessons" and all the stories associated thereof, but it can be read on its own. I doubt very much it'll contain references to those stories, so those who haven't read "Lessons" and its associated stories should be safe. I'm not entirely certain where this is going nor how long it'll be, so enjoy the ride!

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"Whoever knew that winning would be so boring?" Ron sighed, flopping back onto his hospital bed.

Harry and Hermione mumbled their agreements. They were all for boring, but boring doing something, not boring sitting around not doing something.

It had been exactly six days since the fall of Voldemort. Six days, two hours and thirty-seven minutes by Hermione's watch. They knew because they'd counted. Two of those days Harry had spent in a coma and Ron and Hermione had spent in a healer induced sleep to help alleviate a year's worth of exhaustion. Once all of them had woken, they'd lazed around in their robes and pajamas, thankful they didn't have to do anything except eat, sleep, and talk. They had a whole ward consisting of seven beds to each side of the room to themselves to walk around. Despite that, they chose to stick close to the window, the table beneath, and their beds.

On the fourth day they were allowed to see their families. The Grangers and Molly and Arthur Weasley bustled in and fussed over the three, alternating between laughing and crying. Mrs. Weasley came bearing gifts, a heaping hamper of food and a box of games. From where he sat on the edge of his bed Harry didn't see that as a good sign, but he'd barely had time to acknowledge that thought before Mrs. Weasley had engulfed him in a smothering hug. Ron rescued him just as he was beginning to see spots.

"So when do we get to leave, mum?" Ron had asked a few minutes later.

The Grangers and the Weasleys glanced at each other becoming alarmingly quiet.

"What?" Hermione had asked looking between her parents and the Weasleys.

"Weeeell . . ." Arthur had begun.

"The healers want you to stay in isolation for a bit longer," Molly had started when Arthur seemed unwilling to continue. "They feel you need more time to recuperate and heal."

"There's more to it than that. Why can't we do that at home?" Hermione had asked suspiciously.

"The healers also want to make double sure that Harry hasn't been . . . unduly influenced by You-Know- oh sod it, Voldemort," Arthur had chipped in, barely suppressing a wince at the name that came out of his own lips, "and there's a mob outside. The Apparition points have all been overrun to the point where St. Mungo's administrators are considering putting up anti-Apparition wards over all the points, leaving a couple open for emergencies. They want you to wait here until the excitement dies down from chaos to a mere feeding frenzy."

"And how long will that take?" Harry had asked with dread.

"A few days, tops, to both make sure you're unaffected by V-V-Voldemort," Molly had smiled proudly to herself, "and for the excitement to die down."

A few days, it seemed, was turning into seven with no end in sight. They'd played Wizard's chess, Wizard's checkers, Gobstones, Exploding Snap, Muggle and Wizard's Solitaire, Muggle Monopoly, even Sorry, until they were sick to death and mutually swore that if they ever saw a chess piece, fake money or playing card ever again it'd be too soon.

They also hadn't had any more visitors beyond the healers either.

"I spy with my little eye –" Harry began.

"Don't," Hermione warned. "Not that again. We already know all the colors in the room, nothing's changed."

"But I have a new one!"

"Let me guess, you spy green."

"How'd you know?"

"Everyone saw the healer bring in that new blanket, mate," Ron piped up from the bed beside Harry's. "I'm guessing a number between one and ten."

"Four," Harry and Hermione intoned in unison.

"And Hermione always picks paper and we always pick rock," Harry sighed. "What I wouldn't give to be in a coma right now."

"Harry James!" Hermione gasped. "Don't you ever say that again!"

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly.

They lay there on their backs, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. There was a long silence before Ron spoke up. "I see a bunny this time," he said pointing up.

"I've got it!" Harry sat up and jumped off his bed.

"What?" Hermione sat up and watched him run around the room yanking the sheets, blankets and pillows off the beds.

"We are going to build a fort!" He flipped one of the metal framed beds on its side.

"Harry, we can't!" Hermione gasped, scandalized at the mess he was making. "The healers –"

"Sod the healers, this is brilliant!" Ron laughed, hurrying over to help.

In no time they had a fort of sorts made up of two bed frames on their sides, a couple of mattresses laying crossways to provide the ceiling and another mattress laying at the back for a third wall. Blankets provided a handy door and the rest had either been laid inside or were draped over the "ceiling." Cushioning charms and a warming charm on the floor inside finished off their creation.

"I steadfastly refuse to go in there," Hermione called out after they'd slipped inside.

"C'mon, you know you want to join us," Ron called out from inside their fort. "It's a Fortress of Luuurve!"

Hermione snorted loud enough to hear them inside their haven. "Too bad you aren't my love."

"She just had to rub that in," Ron muttered to his best friend.

"To be fair, you did bring it up," Harry murmured back.

"You can be you know," Ron called out in a cajoling voice.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh yeah, that's the way to a girl's heart: promise her a snog in a mattress fort. Real romantic."

"Shut it you."

"Been there, done that, have the emotional scars as a souvenir, thank you very much," Hermione retorted.

"It wasn't that bad was it?" Ron asked poking his head out the blanket door.

"Ron, if I had a brother and I desperately decided I wanted to kiss him in the middle of a frost bitten run down castle, I wouldn't need to. I'd already know what it was like because I'd already kissed you."

He winced. "Ok, it was that bad, but that doesn't mean you can't join us."

"If it's your Fortress of Luuurve, perhaps I shouldn't be disturbing you two. Three's a crowd you know," she replied with a smirk.

Ron yelped and scurried out from under the mattresses. Harry poked his head from beneath the blankets and gave his best friend a look that clearly said, "Gimme a break."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that!" Ron spoke up hastily, the tips of his ears going red. "I'll just be over here."

"All right then, I'll be in my Fortress of Solitude by myself," Harry called out retreating behind the blankets.

Hermione watched Harry for a quiet moment. Wasn't he a little claustrophobic? she wondered to herself before she was distracted by Ron setting up Sorry.

When the healers came for their daily check up, they looked at the beds reprovingly, but made no comments. They understood how bored the three teenagers were and the beds could be easily returned to their proper states.

"Harry, have any You-Know-Whoish tendencies?"

"Nope," he replied from inside the fort.

"Any unexplained rage or need to crucio people for no reason?"

"Nope."

"Good. We'll see you tomorrow then."

"When do we get out of here?" That was Ron.

"Four more days of testing on Harry, then it's up to the public to back off."

"What's being done about that?" That was Hermione.

"Not much at this point. Crowd control mostly. We just have to wait for them to get bored and go home."

Ron whined in the back of his throat.

"But, as a consolation prize, we did bring lunch!"

Harry came out to eat and the new games and books the healers brought were a welcome distraction. For the time being it seemed as though the fortress was forgotten.

Later that night, Hermione woke with a frown. It was getting harder and harder to fall asleep at night to the point where she, Ron, and Harry were finally nodding off around two in the morning. The lack of stimulation was making it hard for their brains to shut down at night considering they were pretty much shut down during the day too. But even still, once asleep, she usually stayed that way, so why was she awake?

She looked about the room and noticed Harry missing from his bed. He couldn't have gone far, since wards had been set up to keep unauthorized people out and keep them in. She sat up to call a healer, but that was when she heard a whimper from the fort.

Hermione slipped out of her bed, padded silently to the fort and slipped inside. She started slightly at the sudden brightness as the moon outside reflected in his eyes. "Harry," she gasped softly. "I thought you were asleep."

"I woke up," he whispered simply.

She took the initiative to lie next to him, snuggling under the warm blankets. "Bad dream?"

He was silent for a long moment, a dark shadow under the mattresses. "Yeah. I – Do I have to talk about it?"

"No," she whispered back. "I was there. I know."

They were quiet for a few moments, the silence between them comfortable. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I thought you were a bit claustrophobic."

"I am. A little. But in here it feels . . . comfortable. I mean a part of me doesn't like it in here, but a bigger part feels safe enough to override that other part. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately it does. How're you feeling?"

"Ok. I think. I keep thinking about the dream." He shifted closer to her, unconsciously seeking out comfort. He'd never done that before, but Hermione willingly gave what he sought. She wrapped her arms around him and he tentatively laid his head on her chest, wrapping an arm around her waist. She hadn't realized how much comfort she could receive by giving it to him. He felt good in her arms and smelled good too, or as good as hospital smell could get. Almost unconsciously, she began running her fingers through his perpetually messy hair, soothing away his bad dreams and kicking up the smell of sunshine like dust motes.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice muffled by her t-shirt.

"Any time," she whispered back on the cusp of dreaming.