At first she figured they were just anxiety dreams, because having Sybil Trelawney in her head was a sure sign of nervous tension having nowhere to go. Having Sybil Trelawney in her head spouting innuendo like, "Why don't you come with me, little girl, on a magic carpet ride?" was an impending sign of madness, Hermione was quite sure.
Only, there actually was a magic carpet. It was large, and of Arabian make, like one she had seen a picture of in a book discussing the Charming of every day implements. Hermione remembered thinking there was something soothing about it, that it was something she could have found in her grandparent's impeccably furnished country home. There were very few things that transferred well and somewhat contextually from the world she grew up in to the world she was becoming an adult in, and it was nice, occasionally, to find them out.
There was a carpet, and a ride, and wind in Hermione's hair. Which was, of course, completely ridiculous, because Hermione hated flying. Ron had--more than once--tried to take her up as some sort of romantic treat and it was sweet of him, truly, but Hermione liked the feel of dirt shifting under the impact of her feet, the slide of marble underneath her Mary Janes. There was so very little surety to be found in this world, she wasn't sacrificing the small bits she could have.
When she'd had the dream every night, four nights going, she said to Ron, "Are you having recurring dreams?" because Ron, for all his mockery of her attention to detail, trusted magic, recognized it as familiar and comfortable, and wouldn't dismiss the question.
Ron shook his head. "What's yours about?"
And that Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to share. Ron wasn't always the most tactful of people, and she was worn from the dream's repeated intrusion on her rest. She settled for, "Magic carpet ride."
Ron scrunched up his eyes. "We should find you a book."
"Mm," Hermione said. She missed Hogwarts.
Ron must have told Harry because two days later he asked, "You sleeping all right?"
Hermione said, "Well enough." Harry had bigger things to be worried about than her sleeping patterns.
He asked, "Just a magic carpet ride, that's it?"
Since Harry was obviously taking the situation seriously, she said, "Well, no, but the rest sounds ridiculous said aloud. It sounds ridiculous in my waking head."
"Tell me?" Harry said softly. Hermione was bad at refusing when Harry sounded like he expected it--he'd had too many people in his life keep secrets from him. Her secrets weren't of much help to him, but they were often some of the only things she had to give him.
Hermione had left Hogwarts for him; sounding like a fool was nothing.
Harry didn't laugh. He said, "We're going to need to find Trelawney."
"Harry-" Hermione started, a smile forming on her lips, because, really.
"Hermione," Harry said, and the four syllables contained all sorts of things that coalesced in Hermione's head as "just trust me."
Hermione said, "I can see if the Headmistress will help."
Trelawney's house was every bit as incense smoke-filled, drape-infested and heat-drenched as her classroom. Hermione had her doubts about this, but Harry seemed quite sure and Harry sometimes had good instincts. Plus, he wasn't much of one for authority figures, let alone Sybil Trelawney, so Hermione figured he had his reasons.
He came armed with a sobering potion with which Professor Lupin had supplied them, and Harry didn't bother with preliminaries once allowed inside, just poured her a glass and said, "Drink."
She sputtered for a few moments about impudence but Harry looked at her in the slightly maniacal way that Hermione had noticed him polishing and Trelawney drank. When she came up she was blinking and vague and everything she always had been, but slightly less blurred around the edges. Harry seemed to think it was enough to be going on with, because he said, "You're a legilimens."
"I wouldn't have suspected it," Harry said, and he did sound a bit genuinely surprised. Hermione was more than a bit. Ron was very carefully looking away in order to gape stupidly. Really, Hermione thought, he did have his moments. Harry continued, "And if you'll just tell me why you've been sending Hermione nonsensical messages, we'll be on our way." His tone wasn't nearly so pleasant as his words.
Hermione frowned. Innuendo was one thing, but the invasion of her mind was another entirely.
Only, Trelawney looked validly puzzled. "Why would I send that girl anything?" She made the word "girl" sound like an entirely different sort of four-letter word.
"Fantastic," Hermione snapped. "You're a legilimens who gets her targets wrong. Why don't you just risk sending something to Lucius Malfoy, or Voldemort, for that matter?"
Trelawney blanched at Hermione's incautious use of the name. Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Nevermind all that."
Hermione looked over at him. He was not generally the forgive-and-forget member of the group. He said, "Magic carpets. Group transportation. You were trying to tell, erm...Harry? Something about our journey? Our destination?"
"Only that-" her voice became ethereal for a moment before she opened her eyes wide enough to see all three students glaring at her. The words stuck in her throat and when she tried again, they came out in a considerably lower register. "The message was not to let them separate you. For any reason."
Ron snorted. "All this for that?"
Harry looked thoughtful, however. Hermione asked, "Why do you care?"
"I. . ." Trelawney met her eyes, and for once, Hermione noticed that there was quite a bit of sadness mixed in with the battiness. "I rarely expect the future to turn out well-"
Another snort, this time from both Ron and Harry.
"But I occasionally dream that it will."
Hermione nodded a bit. She said, "Believe me, we're inseparable."
She took the liberty of curling herself around Harry that night, of pulling Ron up behind her, and slept. In her dreams, she could feel blades of grass beneath her feet, her toes brushing up against those of Harry and Ron.