Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own any of the characters, those are JK's and other peoples' I suppose! I own the storyline, although I'm sure many have done something similar. That's okay, it's not often you find something totally and completely new.

A/N: Edited to make the first two chapters one, as everyone's clamoring for longer chapters... Thanks for the reviews!!! It's all been very helpful. As this is my first story with I may be a little dumb or something. Don't fret. So, it's a H/HR fic, and been edited also to change Hermione being a miraculous new Sex Goddess. Hope you like, comtinue with the reviews please!! THANKS!

Harry could hear them again... the voices, they were whispering to him. They filled his head, coming from all around him. He struggled to decipher the words, but everything washed together, in a waterfall of breathy conversations. The archway stood, nearly surrounding him, his nose nearly touching the black veil. It seemed that if he only pushed it a little to the side, he would see first a shoulder, a torso, a few strands of tangled black hair, and finally the great smiling face of his godfather, Sirius Black. Harry would reach his hand in, and Sirius would take it, and they'd walk out of the Department of Mysteries, leaving behind the memories of that terrible night forever. One finger touched the veil, then two; his hand gripped the edge of the cloth, trembling, pulling ever-so-slightly...

"HARRY POTTER!" A familiar voice shouted, very near to his ear, awakening him from his slumber. "Are you ever going to wake up!?" Harry could feel someone prodding his side with a wand-like wooden stick, and opened one eye, blearily. "Wossa matter...?" he mumbled, blinking his blurred green eye. The other eye opened, and he could see a girl's face, inches away from his own.

"ARRRGGHHH!!!!" he exclaimed, jumping back in surprise. Unfortunately, seeing as he wasn't in the bed he was used to, he leapt a bit too far backwards and toppled onto the ground with a loud thud. Painfully, Harry untangled himself, and slowly stood up. Straightening out his clothes, he threw what he thought was a very mean, frightening glare at she who had interrupted his sleep; Hermione Granger.

"You aren't allowed to come into my room, you know that," he said, though it was hard to keep a straight face looking at Hermione's pleased grin. He suddenly felt very self-conscious, as he was wearing Dudley's old pajamas, which were too large, and nearly falling off him. The shirt was unbuttoned, and the pants were loosely tied at the waist. His hair was unruly, and stuck up in every place; he had a sudden urge to dive under the covers to hide himself.

Hermione sat down lightly on his bed, smiling as she watched Harry's face turn an alarming crimson color. "It's time for breakfast, Harry," she said. "You'd better hurry downstairs before all the food's gone." She quickly stood up, straightened the blankets that were strewn about over the bed, and, with a last look in Harry's direction, flounced out of the room.

Harry watched her with an open mouth. For the three weeks he had been residing at 12 Grimmauld Place, he had noticed things about Hermione. He couldn't understand what it was that made his stomach fill with butterflies whenever she was around. Of course, many of the boys seemed to be looking at her differently now... he'd noticed Fred and George stealing glances up her skirt as she walked up the stairs when they'd come to visit for a bit.

Something about her was different, but Harry couldn't put a finger on just what it was. Although her teeth had been straight ever since the fourth year, when she'd let Madame Pomfrey shrink her teeth a bit smaller than they had been originally, he had never really noticed just how beautiful a smile she really had. He supposed she'd been smiling more often now, and it was refreshing to see when she did. Also, while her hair was quite as bushy as it ever had been, it seemed to be quite a bit nicer than what he remembered. Perhaps she'd found a new way of styling it, or something.

The thing Harry most noticed about Hermione was her quiet confidence. She seemed to carry herself quite differently than she had when they'd left Hogwarts for summer vacation, with her shoulders back and her chest out... well that was something to look at; Hermione had gone and sprouted breasts, when Harry wasn't looking, he supposed. They weren't LARGE breasts, but they were breasts all the same...

Harry suddenly felt very stupid, standing in his over-large pajamas, thinking about Hermione... because something other than his hair was beginning to stick up. He got mad at himself for thinking about one of his best friends this way, and hurriedly changed into some clothes. After attempting to comb down his hair, he gave up and headed out from Sirius' old bedroom down for breakfast.

The old house seemed remarkably cleaner and almost... sparkly, Harry thought, as compared to the last time he'd visited. Walking down the stairs was no longer a war with the dust that flew up and attacked its disturber, and the windows had been wiped of the grime that once prevented view to the outside.

Another more pleasant attribute of the house was its calmness. Kreacher, the treacherous house-elf that had once made his dwelling in a tiny closet of the house, had been removed and punished, though nobody knew how exactly a house-elf could be punished properly. The subject was always quickly changed whenever anyone dared to ask... but, as the only person who actually cared was Hermione, the miserable elf was soon forgotten.

The absence of the house-elf allowed for the screaming portrait of Sirius' late mum to be removed, at long last. There was, however, a curious inscription left where the portrait had been attached for so many years, written in a language that nobody seemed to be able to read.

The dead house-elves' heads shrine had also been eliminated, much to the relief of everyone. These changes made the house almost fun to live in. The problem was, everything reminded Harry painfully of his godfather, and Harry missed Sirius more and more every time he thought about him. It was especially difficult, sleeping in Sirius' old bedroom. The members of the Order who lived at the house had decided that Harry should get to sleep there, as Sirius was like a father to him in life.

The worst part, Harry supposed, about sleeping in his dead godfather's old room, was the fact that each night he'd been there, he had dreamt the same dream, over and over, about that terrible veil that had caused the death of Sirius. For the month of June when he was staying with the Dursleys, he hadn't had any dreams about Sirius at all, though he had expected to. It was all he thought about, though; the way Sirius had been laughing just as he fell... he stayed in his room, barely eating, not talking at all to his miserable relatives. No, he didn't dream about Sirius... he dreamt about his fate.

He'd had the most horrible dreams about the prophecy he'd seen only a few weeks ago, in Professor Dumbledore's office. He knew now, either he or Voldemort had to die. And if Voldemort were to die... then... he, Harry would have to be the one to murder him. The enormity of it all had filled his head, overwhelming him to the point of hysterical tears. He'd seen so many things in his dreams, but not once had he seen himself being victorious in the fight for the wizarding race.

Shaking his head as though to clear his mind, he began to walk down the stairs once more, for unconsciously, he'd stopped as he thought about his dreams. He reached the bottom landing, and continued on to the kitchen, the scent of eggs and bacon filling his nostrils. His stomach gave a great rumble, and he realized just how hungry he was. Forcing a sort of smile onto his face, he opened the door into the kitchen.

Not very many people were eating there anymore; they'd already shoved their food in their faces and gone off to frolick amongst the flowers, he supposed. Or perhaps they were doing some important Order business. All that remained now in the kitchen were Mrs. Weasley, who was doing the cooking, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.

"Good morning, Harry," Ginny said, looking up at him. "Or should I say... good afternoon?" She grinned mischievously. Harry narrowed his bright green eyes at her, although he was still smiling.

"Well, it's kind of hard to get any sleep 'round here, with you lot clunking around right underneath me at obscene hours of the night," he retorted, directing his comment at both Ginny and Hermione, who shared the room directly beneath his. "What on earth can you be doing that makes so much noise??"

The small redhead exchanged a sly look with her brown-haired partner in crime. "That's none of your business, that," Hermione said, which threw the two girls into a fit of giggles. They said no more on the subject, and Harry gave up, rolling his eyes.

"Have some breakfast, dear," Mrs. Weasley called to Harry, holding out a heaping plate of scrambled eggs and bacon. Harry took the plate and set it on the table at the place next to Ron. The ginger-haired boy seemed to be in a sort of stupor, so Harry turned his attention to Hermione. He noticed that she and Ron seemed to be sitting awfully close to each other, and this made him feel rather upset. He watched her talk and laugh with Ginny as he quietly ate his eggs, noticing the way her hair was a sort of golden colour when the sun hit it... and the way her hands moved wildly when she got excited, and the way, when she wasn't excited anymore, she put her hand back in with Ron's...

An intense rage shot through Harry when he saw this, and he stood up violently, shoving his chair back with a loud bang. Everyone, including Ron, who was awoken from his reverie by the noise, and even Mrs. Weasley, stared at Harry in alarm. "Sorry... I've got... a stomachache..." he mumbled, clutching his stomach in an offhand sort of way and walking very briskly out of the room.

A/N: PLEASE Review!!! I'll love you forever!!