Harry Potter was dead.

Not quite so literally, dead, but he knew he definitely was not alive. Wherever he was, he got the distinct feeling that he didn’t exist yet, or didn’t exist anymore, he wasn’t quite sure.

There was wet grass and mud under his feet, and the air around him was cold and damp. Looking around he tried to gauge where he was and if he was in any immediate danger.

He was standing on a hill overlooking a small valley filled with fog. Protruding out of the fog like skyscrapers in a miniature city were thousands of gravestones. He shuddered. The last time he had been in a graveyard had resulted in the death of one of his classmates. But this seemed different. He was different.

With his seeker’s eyes, trained to detect small movements, he noticed a figure in a midnight blue cloak come slowly through a gate at the far end of the cemetery. Something about the way this person moved seemed familiar to him. Not able to put his finger on it he began to move down the hill, into the little valley filled with fog.

Running around and through the gravestones, Harry had to concentrate to keep from losing the blue cloak in the thick fog. He watched as it rounded a huge crypt, ducking behind the huge stone structure. Harry slowly crept closer to the crypt, and knelt on the ground peering around the edge with one eye.

There waiting to receive this mysterious blue cloaked figure was Severus Snape. Harry narrowed his eyes as he looked at his one time Potions Master. Nobody knew where Snape had gone after the fateful night of Dumbledore’s death, but not one day had gone by in Harry’s life when he didn’t think of Snape and how he would seek his revenge. Snape looked younger now. His long hooked nose was not as big, and his hair wasn’t as long and greasy. He looked to be maybe twenty or twenty one.

But it wasn’t Snape’s age or appearance that Harry was most aware of. It was the manner in which he held himself. The way his eyes flitted from one shape to the next never gazing at anything for more then a second. Harry was used to a strong willed, sneering, emotionless Snape. This man in front of him was very scared and afraid. When he saw the figure that Harry had been following, he smiled his face breaking into the very first genuinely happy grin that Harry had ever seen on him.

“I cannot meet you this way anymore Severus.” The figure in the blue cloak had spoken. Harry’s attention was wrenched from Snape back to the mysterious figure. The voice was so familiar. He couldn’t put his finger on how or when, but he knew this voice.

“I am aware.” Snape said, standing. “I am also aware that if your Fiancée knew you were meeting with me…”

“Quiet.” The cloaked figure stepped closer to Snape. Harry grimaced. If he was watching a secret rendezvous between Snape and his lover, he really would rather be somewhere else. “Why is it you wanted to see me?” The woman asked, tipping her head back to look into Snape’s eyes. He looked like Harry had never seen him before, almost in love. Harry gaped as the sallow faced man ran his fingers along the inside of the mystery woman’s hood and pulled out one strand of red hair.

“For this.” Snape said taking a pair of small scissors from his pocket and snipping a bit of the beautiful red hair. The woman tucked the remaining strand away inside her hood as Snape took out a small pouch and dropped the lock of hair into it, tying the cords closed securely. Snape looked down into the eyes of the mystery woman in a way Harry had never seen him look before. “I wanted something to remember you by.” The woman laughed. Harry closed his eyes; the sound of her laughter was like bells. If he could only remember!

“Severus, you chose your path, I have chosen mine. Maybe in some other life, some other time I could have been with you, but here and now it is impossible. Be careful with this.” She said fingering the pouch in his hand where he had put the lock of her hair. “All kind of dark magic can be done with something as valuable as that.”

“ I am aware.” Snape resounded. Harry actually began to feel something for this couple. In love, but couldn’t be together. “My darling, I-”

“I know Severus. There is nothing we can do. Please.” She tipped her head away from him. “I must go now. I’m sorry. This is it. Goodbye.” She turned and ducked around the far side of the crypt leaving Snape alone.

“Goodbye my love.” He whispered. Then he seemed to straighten, gather his resolve, and he Disapparated.

Harry ran to catch up with the hooded woman. If he could just get in front of her, he could see her face. Find out who she was. He ran around the crypt and then in the direction of the gate that she had come through. She was standing there, at the gate, one hand raised as if to open it, the other clutching something at her throat. Her hood had fallen down and Harry could see her long red hair through the fog. He stopped dead watching the woman as she slowly turned to get one last look at the graveyard. He recognized her now. The hair, she shapes of her hand, and as she turned those emerald green eyes just like his own.

His mother.

Harry woke with a start, sweat pouring down his back.

“Mum?” He whispered into the dark still air.

“Mmmphhh.” The sleeping form of Ron Weasley answered from the bed next to him. Harry sighed, releasing the tension from his dream self. He unclenched his hands from where they had been gripping his violently orange bead spread and wiped his sweaty palms on his pajama top. The various occupants of the Chudley Cannon posters on the walls of Ron’s bedroom zoomed in and out of their frames, making spectacular goals and smiling for the cameras. Harry worriedly rubbed his forehead. He had not had such a vivid dream since around the time Snape had been trying to teach him Occlumency.

Snape. Harry shuddered, thinking about his mother with that sallow, ugly git. Had his dream once been a reality? Or was it a figment of his imagination? Laying back down on his trundle bed, he pulled the covers over his head and tried to sleep. Try as he might to block out the visions of Snape and his mother, he could not quite get them to fade away. Pushing his palms into his eyes he concentrated on making his mind blank, and failed as the other thing that had haunted his mind for days broke into his thoughts.

Ginny. The way her hair looked in the sun. How she had looked at him so knowingly at Dumbledore’s funeral. He wanted, more than anything, to be with her as they had in the spring. “But it’s impossible.” He mumbled to himself.

“Impossumbloo...” Ron mumbled back at him, turning over in his sleep. Harry couldn’t help grinning at his friend. For four weeks Ron had stayed with Harry at the Dursley’s so Harry could get all his things together, not that he had many things to get together. Mostly they had gone to keep Harry’s Promise to Dumbledore. To keep Dumbledore’s magic alive so that it could continue to protect Harry in the journey that faced him. Ron had gone absolutely crazy playing with Dudley’s muggle toys, like his Playstation, and his computer. Dudley had been scared witless by the presence of two almost fully-grown wizards in this house.

Once the four weeks were up Harry and Ron had immediately met Hermione and Ginny at the burrow. From there, they had decided, they could plan their next step, while they waited for Fleur and Bill’s wedding.

Harry turned over, watching the dim light that filtered through the filmy curtains playing on the ceiling. It was nearly morning. As he laid in bed he realized that it was morning. He had been seventeen for twenty four hours.

He gave up sleep and rolled himself forcefully out of bed. If he couldn’t sleep, then he could at least start his day off with a cup of tea. Walking out into the hall, he took the steps two at a time down to the Weasley’s kitchen.

“Incendio” he muttered under his breath, waving his wand at the cold fireplace. Flames sprang to life, merrily crackling as if they had been burning for hours. He filled the kettle with water and placed it over the fire. Sitting down at the kitchen table he let his head fall into his hands. More than anything he wanted to talk to one person. Ginny. Since the last time they had talked at Dumbledore’s funeral, Harry hadn’t known how to approach her.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t think of her. To be truthful there wasn’t ever a time when he didn’t think of her. It had been his decision to break it off because he didn’t want anything to happen to her. He already put Ron and Hermione in danger ever day, and he had sworn that he would not create more danger for Ginny.

The kettle over the fire began to whistle and Harry quickly went to get it before it woke any of the Weasley’s or Hermione. He made himself a cup of tea, and sat at the kitchen table surveying the chaos around him. Tomorrow was Fleur and Bill’s wedding and the Weasley home had been a veritable war zone all week. While Mrs. Weasley did, somewhat hesitantly, accept Fleur into her family last spring, that by no means meant that she had given the part-veela girl free reign over her “precious son’s” wedding. Every day was a silent struggle between the two women to get their own way. Ginny, on orders from Mrs. Weasley, would conjure a pile of peach napkins only to be overruled by Fleur who would change the whole pile to pink. Poor Ginny, Harry thought, to be stuck between those two.

His mind slowly slipped to its favorite stream of thought. Ginny. If he couldn’t date her, that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about her. The way her hair fell over her shoulder when she was working. The way his hands felt when he touched her face. The way she kissed him and the way she said his name… Harry… Like lemon drops, sweet and tangy.

“Harry?”

If he concentrated enough he could hear her speaking his name. He smiled, thinking of the way she looked when she teased him, her eyes sparkling, her pink lips smirking at him.

“Harry!” He jumped, surprised and embarrassed to be caught fantasizing. Hermione had come down the stairs behind him while he wasn’t paying attention. “Why are you up so early, Harry? Couldn’t you sleep?”

“I had a dream-” he immediately stopped himself. He didn’t want to tell her about the dream. It was hard for him to think about his mother and Snape, much less tell someone else about it. He knew he was being silly, but he felt like if he told her, it might become real. Hermione looked at him knowingly and for a minute, Harry was afraid that somehow she could read his mind.

“Oh Harry, I know you dream about Ginny.” Hermione said all-knowingly, patting his arm. She sat down with him at the table and poured herself a cup of tea. She looked at him sympathetically. “Ron told me that you spend every night muttering to yourself and tearing your bed apart.” It was true. Many mornings Harry woke up to find that he had pulled all the sheets off his bed. He was used to being a vivid dreamer but never had he had such active sleep habits. “You should just talk to her, Harry.” Hermione continued, “you know she loves you. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“You know why.” Harry said, finally looking up from his tea. “I cannot put her in danger like that! If lord Voldemort knew that she meant more to me than just ‘my best friend’s little sister’, he would use her against me. After Sirius and Dumbledore…. I just cant do that anymore. I can’t do that to her, I can’t. It would be selfish.” Harry looked into her eyes. “I do love her, Hermione, but I can’t stand it.” He paused trying to put his emotions into words. “I cannot stand to lose one more person that I love. If you and Ron would let me alone, I would leave you too.”

“You know that isn’t going to happen Harry.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “We will be with you no matter what.” She drained the last of her tea, and stood to put her empty mug in the sink. "You know," she said turning back to him, "You were still at the Dursley's yesterday so I never got to tell you something important." She turned to look out the window. The sun had started to rise, and from their spot near the table they could see the bright oranges and golds beginning to pour over the town of Ottery St. Catchpole. Hermione turned back to Harry, smiling as warmly as the sun.

“Happy Birthday Harry.”