I Thee Wed

Chapter 6

Dreams That Disturb

Author's Note: You are all free to be vastly impressed at such a timely update from yours truly. If you're not…well, I'm not Queen of the World yet so I suppose there's nothing I can do about it.

Thank you so much to everybody who left suggestions in their reviews! You all served as my muses and helped to bring this chapter out so quickly. Those of you who suggested bringing in the media in this chapter as opposed to later on when I was planning on doing so are geniuses. I like this thing better your way than my own, dear readers. So…if it sucks it's your fault. Either way, I'll still be working on the incentive I promised at the end of chapter five.

Disclaimer: I don't own most of the characters in this story. A few of them are mine however, and if you want to borrow them feel free to send me an email. I doubt you do, though. If you'd like to host this story on your web page the drill is the same.

He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream and he sometimes wondered whose it was and whether they were enjoying it.

-Douglas Adams, "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy"

A week into Ron's new living arrangements had left the man more than a wee bit exhausted. As a boy he had been able to sleep for twelve, thirteen hours straight, but ever since he'd returned to England he hadn't managed more than five. Long days at the pitch and nights spent avoiding the subject of marriage left him longing for rest, but to no avail. The sleep he did manage to catch was filled with dreams, mostly about quidditch (Oliver was always the antagonist), but sometimes about Harry, Hermione, and the other Weasleys. They were all harmless, of course, and he rarely remembered them the next morning. At least, that was the case in the beginning.

"Creevey!" A loud, booming voice filled the small building that housed The Magic Post. The building was home to a brand new newspaper that was increasing in popularity slowly but surely. The Editor and Chief, one Louis Coleridge, had once worked for The Daily Prophet, but had been fired when the Ministry objected to his less-than-censored reports on the rise of Lord Voldemort. Only recently had the man been able to pull together enough funds to start a paper of his own, for he had vowed the day The Prophet had kicked him out on his bottom that he would never work for anyone but himself from there on out.

A thin, shorter-than-average man burst into the room. Colin Creevey had matured quite a bit throughout the years (he'd even caught the eyes of some of the girl's in the office!), but he was as eager-to-please as ever, especially when it came to writing a halfway-decent article.

          "You needed me, sir?" Colin bounced up and down a bit as he waited for a response.

          "Stop moving, Creevey, you're making me dizzy," said Lou. Colin stopped. "I've been hearing some interesting gossip."

          "Gossip, sir? Do you want me to write a gossip column? I'm not really the man for the job, but maybe if you need some photos—"

Lou sighed and put his head in his hands. "Creevey!"

          "Sir?"

          "Don't move. Don't talk. Just stand there and listen. I'm about to tell you something I don't want repeated, so shut the door."

          "I thought you wanted me to stand here and do nothing," Colin said meekly. When Lou glowered at him he rushed to do as told.

          "There was a bit of a spectacle earlier this week at Diagon Alley. Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and an unidentified male of about the same age were seen in the street. Nobody knows exactly what they were talking about, but apparently Granger rushed them into a nearby shop."

          "Maybe they just wanted privacy?" Colin queried.

Lou nodded. "That could be it. Or it could be something else. I'm sensing a story."

Colin ignored Lou's casual mention of Ron and Hermione as "kids." The older man had fought for Dumbledore but had never much liked the idea of Harry and his friends being such a part of what went on. While he respected the trio for defeating Voldemort, he was not enamored with their legacy like some were nor did he see them as the living deities most of the world made them out to be. Lou didn't hate Harry, Ron, or Hermione, but if any of them had skeletons in their closets, he wouldn't be afraid to expose them. News was news, after all, and his paper needed something big to truly be respectable.

          "Sir, I can't be impartial to this. I knew all of them back in Hogwarts…we fought V-Voldemort together. We're friends, of a sort."

Lou sat down in his chair heavily. "I know, Creevy, and that's why I'm asking you to do this. The paper's doing well, but it's not picking up as many readers as our financial backers originally hoped. We need an exclusive, Creevy, if any of us want to have jobs six months from now. You know these people, use that to your advantage."

Colin left the small office filled with both guilt and excitement. If he uncovered one of his friends' secrets he'd never be welcomed in their good graces again. That also went for the other million or so Weasleys, as well as the group's many friends. Still, if he did find something his career would skyrocket. He wouldn't have to do freelance photography anymore, he could earn enough writing to provide for his photographical pursuits in any way he saw fit. He could move into a flat with more than one room. He could afford a girlfriend, even. Torn, Colin packed up for the night.

In Ron's dream it was summer. Though it had been spring when he had fallen asleep, the differences between the two seasons were everywhere. It also helped that he was at Hogwarts. Ron had spent so much of his youth roaming the school he knew it both inwards and outwards.

He was by the lake. The sun was warm on his face. He had taken off his robe and rolled back the sleeves of his collared white shirt. His feet were in the lake, reveling in the coolness that surrounded them. Peace and tranquility reigned. If Ron were awake and able to analyze the situation he would now have been positive this was a dream if only because of the calmness. Hogwarts had never been calm back in his day.

          "Ron? What are you doing out here all by yourself?" Ron turned to face Hermione. She was carrying a book but she didn't look like she had as a student. She looked like she was a 28-year-old, highly successful Healer. The only difference was a softness around her that never seemed to be there in real life. She wore a light pink skirt and white cotton blouse. She looked beautiful.

          "Hermione? Why aren't you in Ancient Runes?"

          "What are you talking about, Ron? We're not in Hogwarts anymore," said Hermione.

Ron kicked at the water. "'Course we are! Why else would be at Hogwarts? Any minute now Harry's going to come and we're going to go play Quidditch."

Hermione frowned. "Why do you insist on living in the past, Ron?"

          "What are you talking about, Hermione? I was talking about the very-near future. Maybe Harry will let me use the Firebolt…" Sighing, Hermione took a seat next to Ron. She leaned over and picked up his hand, surprising the boy to no end. "Are you sick?

          "Why don't you see me, Ron?"

Ron swept his gaze across Hermione. Medium height, medium weight, brown eyes, curly hair with a bit of frizz lurking here and there…all in all, he could see her quite well. "What are you talking about? I see you just fine!"

          "You don't see me." Hermione stared out at the lake.

          "Hermione, are you nutters? You're not invisible or anything, I see you just fine!"

          "You don't see me, Ron."

Infuriated, Ron let his voice rise to a shout. "I do! I do see you! I see you, I see you—"

          "Ron!" A scream pierced Ron's slumber, causing him to shoot into an upright position. His eyes blinked rapidly as they attempted to adjust to the darkness that was interrupted only by the moonlight that snuck in through the blinds. It illuminated an anxious looking Hermione. When his mind was able to focus on her, he reached up and grabbed her hand like she had done earlier in his dream.

          "I see you, Hermione! I do, I do see you!"

Hermione held on to Ron's hand and squeezed. "Shh, it's alright, dear. I can see you, too." A moment passed where both were silent. Ron used the time to regain his composure, concentrating on getting his breathing back to a normal level. When he looked back up at Hermione she was still looking at him with concern. He noticed that though she'd managed to haphazardly throw on her robe, her feet remained bare on the wood floor.

          "It was just a dream?" he asked.

          "Yes. I heard you screaming and I ran in to check on you. Are you alright?"

Nodding, Ron let go of Hermione's hand and used it to rub at his eyes. "It was so weird…" He trailed off.

          "I still have nightmares, too," Hermione told him.

          "About what?" Ron asked, ignoring the fact that his dream hadn't exactly been a nightmare and he was taking advantage of Hermione's comforting. Not that he cared.

Hermione took a seat on the side of Ron's bed. "You know, about the war. I dream that my parents didn't make it. I dream that you and Harry leave me alone." Her face took on a pained expression.

          "I wouldn't leave you alone." The words shocked Ron the moment they left his mouth. They sounded so solemn, yet he meant them like he'd never meant anything before. Apparently Hermione was just as shocked because her face took on an odd expression he had never seen before.

          "I thought—well, you were gone on the tour so long, and I never heard from you anymore, I-I sometimes thought you would."

Ron looked Hermione directly in the eyes before he spoke again. "I promise I won't leave you alone."

In the light of day this conversation would have been awkward and out of place. With the sun comes a person's ability to rationalize, to accept the way their world works. The moon had intoxicated them, though, allowing Ron and Hermione to converse freely with no boundaries. These talks always come to an end though, and a moment later Hermione regained her absent sense of propriety. Ron seemed to be heading down the same path for he did not protest when she stood up again. In an almost embarrassed voice Hermione told Ron goodnight and exited the guest room.

Ron didn't fall asleep again until the sun kissed the horizon.

          "Professor Potter?" A matronly voice invaded Harry's quiet office. He looked up from the paper he was grading to see Headmistress McGonagall staring at him fondly.

          "Yes, Minerva?" Harry fought and succeeded to use the woman's first name. Though he had worked at Hogwarts for about five years he still found himself slipping into his old schoolboy ways now and then.

She shook her head as if to clear it of distracting thoughts. "It's come to my attention that Mr. Weasley is home from his trip around the world."

          "He is indeed," Harry told her. "Have you caught him at some sort of trouble?" he smirked.

McGonagall scowled at him. "For your information, Potter, I do not care what sort of trouble my former students manage to get themselves into once they leave my school." Harry highly doubted that, but let the subject drop anyway. "I was simply wondering if he and Miss Granger would like to join us here at the castle this Saturday for a meal."

A thought occurred to Harry. "Have you missed him, then?"

Bristling, McGonagall fixed Harry with The Look. "I have done nothing of the sort!" A few seconds passed leaving both Harry and McGonagall laughing. "You won't tell him, will you?"

          "Wizard's honor," he replied smiling.