Re-post: Always and Forever by neiva

1. A Midnight Hello

DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are my own they all belong to the amazing, wonderful J.K Rowling. Also this plot isn't my own it belongs to Neiva.

Harry had been turning in his bed trying to find a more comfortable means of falling asleep. Uncle Vernon's snores could be heard from across the hall so Harry was sure that no one would find out if he sent a letter to his friends. It had been so long since he had heard from either of them and he was starting to feel lonely.

It had been a month since he had defeated Voldemort and yet everyone still treated him like he had to stay in the protection of his Aunt Petunia. He was going to go into his seventh and final year at Hogwarts and he was beginning to wonder what a life without the worries of constant threats and evil was going to be like.

Normal for once, he thought to himself

It didn't help much that he had been getting constant owls from every magical newspaper asking for exclusive interviews. He hoped that tomorrow, when he turned seventeen someone would finally come get him and take him to get his Apperation license.

He wondered what Ron and Hermoine were doing; the thought of them soothed him, thinking it would not be long before he saw them again. They had been through so much with him and he was sure that he would have never been able to defeat Voldemort without them; they each played a big part in it one way or another, even if they didn't realise how much.

His mind wondered to the day where so many lives were lost to the hands of the Death Eaters and he almost faded away.

When Voldemort came to him he had been in the Gryffindor dorms asleep. It was a cowardly thing to do, sneaking up on someone when their guard was completely down. He had sent the Death Eaters to find and distract the teachers and any students who dared get in the way. It was Harry's scar that woke him. This time the feeling had been different, almost alerting him to the danger on its way.

Dean had been going to the common room for forgotten homework and happened to spot Voldermort as he headed towards the dormitories. It was his scream that caused everyone to wake up in fright. He wasted no time in yelling "It's him, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is..." Was all he got to say before he was killed with the killing cures, although by this time though Harry had properly gotten his ground.

When Voldemort had entered the dormitory the whole school seemed to be altered with his presence; Order of the Pheonix members could be seen through the windows heading towards the school.

With great difficulty Harry had finally been able to get everyone exept a stubborn Ron out of the room. He and Ron had been close to the door when Hermione had appered with her wand up and ready. When she stood next to him, face full of determination it was then that Harry realised the feeling that he couldn't live without her.

His wand had given him a shock bringing him back to reality and in alarm causing him to drop it. He felt panic and knew the sinking feeling meant that was the end of it. Voldemort had tried to do exactly what he thought he would do, seize the moment. Harry wasn't sure if it had been the laugh or the shock Voldemort had upon realizing the amazing Harry Potter had dropped his wand, but Voldemort hesitated for too long.

It was long enough for Harry to feel Ron's hand on is shoulder and Hermoine's grab his now empty hand. It brought forth an energy that sparked some source of wandless magic to Harry. He remembered feeling that he didn't want Ron, his friend who had been loyal, to end up with the fate that now awaited him. And that he did not want Hermione to see the last of her days here. He wanted her to be happy, to be loved, to be ... his.

No sooner had that thought come into his head, than it had left. He then felt hatred like no other towards the man before him. He had every right to, but this had been different. He wanted him to die, to suffer, to feel all he had made him feel for the last sixteen years of his life. He wanted him to feel the feeling that he had bestowed on many before him, and with that, a ball of energy had been conjured from the depth of his anger.