Harry woke up with a start, expecting to be looking at the inside of the tent, to find that all that had happened had only been a dream. Instead, he found himself looking at the closed curtains of his four poster bed in Gryffindor Tower. He slowly raised his hand to his forehead, and became acutely aware that his scar felt like any other scar and no longer pained him.
He sat up and pushed open the curtains around his bed, and after squinting at the stunning light that poured in through the dormitory window, looked around the room.
Neville was fast asleep on his bed, the sword of Gryffindor lay carefully on his bedside table. Harry thought briefly about how Dumbledore had left the sword to him in his will, and decided that if it was in anyway within his power, Harry would see to it that Neville kept it, until another true Gryffindor called for it in a time of need.
He glanced over at what had been Ron's bed, but saw that it was vacant, as he had expected. He got up and grabbed his wand, appreciating the fact that it was whole once again, and made his way to where he knew he would find his friends.
In the Common Room, on the couch in front of a crackling fire, Harry recognized Hermione's brown hair, even bushier than normal as a result of the battle the day before. As he came to the front of the couch, he found his other friend sound asleep, with his head on her lap.
Hermione hadn't yet noticed Harry's arrival, and was staring strangely into the flames, as if she were in another place.
"Hermione," Harry whispered, jolting her out of her trance. She gave him a small smile. He gestured towards the portrait hole and mouthed "Walk with me?"
She nodded and, after gently moving Ron off of her so as not to wake him, followed him out of the Common Room.
When the fat lady's portrait had closed and they had nodded their responses to her thanks for saving the castle and killing "that bad, bad man", Harry spoke quietly "Hard to believe it's over isn't it?"
Hermione nodded, "Yes, it is… we've been working for this since we were eleven haven't we? I always thought that when this finally came, it would be happy, joyous; I expected to be running up and down these halls in rapture... but instead it feels…"
"Hollow?" Harry offered.
"Yes," she said quietly. For a while the only sound was their footsteps, and then Hermione softly asked, "Harry, may I ask you a question?"
"Of course," he replied, kicking a small piece of rubble down the corridor, "Anything."
"When I was battling Bellatrix… you know, after your fake death and before your theatric reappearance?" she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and smirked slightly.
Harry chuckled, "Yes I saw that. You, Ginny, and Luna were doing brilliantly."
"Hardly," Hermione replied, her smirk changing into an expression he could not read, "The three of us together couldn't even make her break a sweat… she kept laughing at us, chiding us… well me mostly. She said things like 'Oh little Mudblood girl wants to play again does she? She didn't like the last game we played. Shall we try again? I was going easy on you last time Muddy, this time I'll-" Hermione choked back a sob, "Well never mind what else she said. Harry I- I wanted to kill her Harry, but I wanted to do much more than that. I kept imagining torturing her. I wanted to hear her scream, hear her beg for mercy. I wanted to stand over her and make her beg for death, and then Crucio her again... Harry I… I wanted to destroy her. To give her a life far worse than death. And when I saw her Killing Curse almost hit Ginny, I saw my opening.
"If Mrs. Weasley hadn't pushed me aside, I would have done it. I didn't think about the fact that if I had, Voldemort would have killed me in an instant, I just knew I was going to do it. Harry, does that make me any better than a Death Eater? That I wanted to do something like that to someone else… does that make me just as evil?"
She was openly weeping now, refusing to look at Harry. He drew his crying friend into his arms and said, "No Hermione no. That doesn't make you evil. Don't say things like that."
As her crying died down into an occasional little gasp, he pulled away from her and looked into her tearstained face, "I have used the Cruciatus curse before Hermione, twice." He said quietly.
"On who?" she asked, meeting his gaze in shock.
"Yesterday, I used it on one of the Carrows when he spit in McGonagall's face," he replied, "and in fifth year, in the Ministry of Magic after she killed Sirius, I followed Bellatrix and used it on her."
When he said Bellatrix's name, Harry saw a glint of malice and satisfaction in Hermione's eyes that frightened him slightly. She seemed horrified by whatever thought that had come into her mind and looked away from him once again.
"I wanted the same thing you wanted. To do to her what she had done to so many others. I think she should consider herself lucky that Mrs. Weasley killed her," Harry said, grinning slightly, "Because between dealing with you, me, and Ron, it would have been a hell of an existence."
Hermione chuckled through her tears, "Yes it would have been…" she seemed to compose herself slightly and looked at Harry seriously, in true Hermione fashion, "Harry Potter, if you ever scare me the way you did yesterday, you're going to wish Voldemort did you in."
Harry laughed and threw his arm around his friend's shoulder as they continued to walk down the corridor, "Don't worry Hermione. I don't plan on dying again anytime soon."