Wassup homies ? So I've noticed this trend that each chappie I put up gets less reviews… which doesn't really mean anything since I only have two chapters before this.. anyways, let's try to change that So, on to the story.. I had the idea for the plot of this chapter and I'm all: 'OHMIGOD YES !', but then I typed it.. and I'm not sure I like it that much anymore. In other words, 'It sounded better in my head' I wanna see what people think though, so I'm putting it up anyways!

And a quick note regarding the last chapter, to the reviewer gryffindorgirl:

After I read your review, I went right to the story you mentioned, and I have to admit they are quite similar. I didn't mean to plagiarize in any way, and I honestly don't think I did. I did not steal any ideas, or sentence combinations. Yes, both chapters mention Hermione having difficulty walking, but that's not even the main concept of the story. Mine is about how Hermione feels after the torture, the other is about Harry/Hermione friendship vs. Ron/Hermione relationship. And yes, both are set at Shell Cottage, but a lot of other fics are.. that setting was created by J.K. Rolling, not the author of the other story. I'm sorry if you thought I copied ideas, or thought my chapter was unoriginal. I promise all of my plots come from my own noggin' ;) Anyways, thanks for reviewing and I hope you like this chapter better !

Wouldn't Change a Thing

To anyone else, they would have looked like a couple. The two walked hand in hand down the street of a muggle suburb. This seemed unusually hard for the girl, as the boy kept squeezing her hand and whispering what seemed to be encouraging words in her ear.

The girl turned sharply into a driveway, pulling the boy along with her.

Hermione fought off tears as she walked up the pathway to her front door. She hadn't been here for a little over a year. She had almost forgotten this part of her life; it felt like it was a dream that she had long ago…

She had brought Harry along because she had visited his home with him. Not the one he had grown up in, but his home before all of this had happened. Before his parents had died. Before his life had changed forever. She wanted him to now see the place she called home before her life had changed, 11 years after his had.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, aluminum key. She didn't want to use magic in this place; she only had once, and she never wanted to again. Sticking the key in the lock, she turned it. It clicked, and she took a deep breath as she opened the door.

She felt Harry apply a gentle pressure to her hand as they stepped inside. She wasn't prepared for what she saw.

Death Eaters had defiantly been here. The house was destroyed. Everything seemed to be broken, or out of place. Glass was shattered all around the floor, and the walls had blood smeared on them. Books lay open with pages ripped out, and the sofa had been torn open. The whole place was a disaster.

Tears ran down Hermione's face as she stared at the mess. This was only the front room, she didn't know if she could bear to see the rest of the house. She dropped down into a corner and curled up, putting her face to her knees.

She heard Harry mutter something, then leave the room. It seemed unlike him to leave her alone, but she was glad he did. He'd seen her break down too many times in the past year and he shouldn't have to comfort her every time. She -like everyone else- knew she asked too much of him.

Harry walked down the hall, waving his wand and cleaning up everything he could. He fixed every broken glass, and stacked every book. He walked into the living room and noticed a few pictures on the mantle.

One had a large group of girls –all around age five- dressed in tutu's, doing a graceful ballet pose. He found it easy to pick out his friend from the group, simply because she was the one doing the pose wrong. He chuckled at Hermione's lack of athleticism.

In a cabinet beside the television, there were dozens of home movies. After stacking them neatly with his wand, he noticed one of them was entitled Hermione's Spelling Bee. He smiled and rolled his eyes.

One by one, he tidied each room. It took about fifteen minutes until he got to the last one.

He opened the door to a room that unmistakably belonged to Hermione. The walls were purple, and the bedding was pink with a little flower pattern. Harry, of course knew her parents had probably picked this out. The one noticeable abnormality –besides the huge mess- would be the photographs moving in their broken frames. Pictures of Hermione, Ron, and himself littered the floor. He smiled down at one of the three of them in their first year, arms around each other, grinning broadly in front of the house cup.

He waved his wand one last time and everything in the room rearranged itself. He watched as the head of a stuffed bear sewed itself back onto the body, then plopped casually down onto the freshly made bed.

Hermione had stopped sobbing. The first thing she heard was a clattering noise coming from upstairs. She looked up, bracing herself for the shock of seeing her destroyed home, but instead an even bigger one came.

She looked up to see everything was neat and back in place, just the way she had remembered it being when she had left one year ago. She quickly jumped to her feet and ran upstairs, knowing exactly what the clattering sound she heard had been.

She saw each room had been cleaned. Everything was in place, and everything in perfect condition. She was glad she didn't have to see any more, glad that her memories in this house wouldn't be ruined. She was glad she wouldn't have to see the effects of dark magic being used in her home.

The door was open in her bedroom, and she saw him standing over her desk. She walked quietly over to him. He was staring at a picture of the three of them, taken back in their very first year at Hogwarts.

"If you told me then" he said quietly, not looking at her "that at seventeen I would search for pieces of The Dark Lord's soul, be betrayed by my best friend, let my other best friend be tortured, die, come back to life, then kill Voldemort… I would have gone mad."

"Harry, you've gone through so much –it worries me that you never let anything out. I've just realized… I've never seen you cry. I know if I were you I would never have been able to keep it together as long as you have… I just want to know Harry, are you okay?"

They looked at each other, and he nodded his head.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione. It's all over. To tell you the truth, yes. I'd been holding it in. I felt like I had to be the strong one, 'cause the whole world was literally on my shoulders. I guess I'm just better at it than you" he winked at her, and she rolled her eyes "But don't worry about it now. It's all over, and I just don't want to waste any more of my life being anything but happy, and neither should you. It kills me when you break down; I want you to be happy. It just reminds me that maybe your life would have been better if we weren't best friends. That's why I went ahead and fixed everything. It was because of me the Death Eaters came here –don't argue- they were looking for me. Either that, or to torture you for information about me. I hate it when you cry, and it's even worse when it's because of me… I just had to fix it. "

She didn't necessarily agree with his accusations, but she didn't feel like arguing, so she just nodded, looking up she whispered "Thank you, Harry" She got on her tiptoes and gave him an innocent peck on the cheek.

He smiled, and wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. They stared back down at their eleven year-old selves, who were happily cheering with pride at their accomplishment. Hermione listened to her friend's heart beating, shivering slightly when she remembered a time when she was convinced it had stopped. She thought about what he had just said, and a question came to her mind.

"Harry, have you ever wished we weren't friends… or as close as we are?" She asked quietly.

Harry hesitated a little before answering.

"Yeah, but you know it was only because I cared too much. Now, looking back I don't see a way I could have done it without you… or Ron" he added

She nodded her head against him, though she felt like she had already known the answer.

"Have you ever wished we weren't friends? You know, just wondered why you kept going along with me after all the danger I put you through?"

"Harry," She started firmly "You gave me so many chances to back out. If I ever felt like it wasn't worth it, don't you think I would have left? I cared too much to think of doing otherwise, no matter how many times you tried to protect me from all of this. I just knew that this was bigger than me… bigger than us."

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm. He whispered "Thank you Hermione" before leaning down and placing a small kiss on top of her head.

To anyone else, they would have looked like a couple. Those people, however, didn't know their story. To themselves, they looked like two people who had gone through so much together; so much at such a young age. To themselves, they were two people ironically bonded closer by evil.

And if you asked them, they wouldn't change a thing.