This is a happy chapter, for once… no one dies, no one disappears, no one gets killed, wounded, scalded in a vat of boiling cheese, suspended upside down by a rope while getting repeatedly dipped in a crockpot of chocolate fondue, stuck to a massive wall of jello being force-fed ramen noodles, or otherwise mangled.

I apologize for how long this chapter took to put up. This chapter was done three weeks ago, but I didn't post it for reasons known to only a friend (coughkenzicough). Next one should come sooner.

Disclaimer: you know the drill. They should really just post this thing on the front of the site: "This site is intentionally for the posting of works that are inspired by or stolen from other published works. Plagiarism cannot be punished by law."

Chapter 25

Power and Responsibility

Snape was gone; Bellatrix was gone. Disapparated. Harry was left alone with his whirling, screaming, disbelieving thoughts. His chest heaved, gasping for breath that didn't seem to come. His body was still drenched in that icy cold, the terrifying chill of power and pain. His insides were leaden, his legs like jello. He felt his knees hit the cold stone floor, sending a jarring pain through his body.

Crucio. The Unforgivable Curse. He had broken a wizarding law. He had defied the Ministry of Magic. But it was not this that tore at him.

He had tortured a person. He had forced a living human being through the throes of terrible agony. He had gone against every moral sentiment he had ever learned and he had tortured a person.

A sob wrenched itself out of his throat. What have I done?

A slight moan came from behind him. He was yanked brutally back to the present, and he remembered, in a rush of confused, howling thoughts, where they were, why they were there, what had made him feel this way. He remembered who it was, lying behind him in the tunnel.

"Draco," he whispered.

He tried to call on his magic, feel the reserve burning within him, but for the first time in weeks it would not come. He needed light; he could see nothing in this darkness as black as death, closing in on him like an iron fist trying to claw the life out of his body. He dragged himself to the source of the moan.

He reached out and felt Draco's body, and a warm, sticky, liquid covered his hand. Blood.

"Let's get out of here," Harry whispered, forcing back the overwhelming physical and mental pain that was about to engulf him. Harry found Draco's forearm and gripped it tightly. He focused, fighting the dizzying throbbing that tore at his insides. He concentrated on Apparating, fixing his destination—St. Mungo's—in his mind and trying to force himself towards it.

It would not come.

His head throbbed worse. He felt his strength fleeing, his body collapsing. The world turned around; he did not know up from down or left from right.

Gasping one last time, Harry passed out.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The icy chill was gone. His head didn't pound as badly anymore. His eyes flickered open. He still couldn't see anything, but his strength had returned. He reached out and felt Malfoy's body beside him.

A slight draft came swirling down the tunnel. The breeze was fresh, teasing him, inviting him to leave this wretched place. Exhaustedly, he searched for his Inner Sanctum.

It came, this time, with a rush of warmth. He hardly had the strength to say the spell. "Accio wand."

He felt his wand fly into his hand. He gripped it tightly, and his other hand found Malfoy's wrist. With a final effort, he Disapparated.

A quiet buzzing filled his ears. People around him were gasping, pointing. Where had he Disapparated to? He couldn't remember. He tried to heave himself up, but someone pushed him gently back down. "Stay there," a soft voice said. "We'll get help."

A few minutes later, he felt himself being lifted into the air, whether by a spell or by strong arms he knew not. He let himself fall into a passive, dazed sort of trance. There's nothing you can do, he told himself tiredly. Let them help you.

They set him down. Someone poured a sweet, biting liquid down his throat and the pain numbed slightly. "Hold on," someone said quietly. "Hold on."

The first thing Harry saw when he opened his eyes was the face of Remus Lupin. He blinked several times, ridding his vision of the blurred edges, and tried to sit up.

Lupin wouldn't let him. "Lie down," he said firmly. "You'll hurt yourself."

Harry blinked again. The room around him wouldn't come into focus. It was white and gray, that much he could tell, with people moving around him. "Whahreyoudoinere?" Harry said past a swollen throat.

"Pardon?" Lupin said.

Harry coughed, tasting the coppery flavor of blood. "What're… why are you here?"

"We got an owl saying you'd been hurt and that you were in St. Mungo's. I wasn't just going to leave you here."

"St. Mungo's?" Harry asked, trying to sit up again. Lupin still wouldn't allow him to. "How did I get here?"

"You Apparated into the middle of their front hall, apparently, bleeding and fainting."

"I didn't," Harry protested.

Lupin shrugged. "That's what they told me." He stood up restlessly and crossed to a brighter spot in the room, maybe a window. "Care to tell me what you and Malfoy were doing?"

"Malfoy…" Harry repeated slowly, not understanding. An image briefly flashed in front of his mind, one where a bushy-haired girl furiously slapped a sallow boy. He sat up straight. "Hermione," he gasped.

Lupin turned sharply. "What about Hermione?"

Harry struggled to remember. A rush of memories pounded into his skull, and he tried to shut them out. A wild, mocking laughter, a harsh voice interrupting it, spells cast, an outraged scream, more yelling…

And then he remembered. The scene came back with frightening clarity. "The counter curse," he gasped, hauling himself out of bed, "it's…"

Lupin forced him down once more. "Calm down, Harry, or you'll pass out again."

"There's a book!" Harry said, gasping and fighting Lupin's strong, resolute grip. "There's a book, and it has the counter curse!"

Lupin's grip faltered a moment. "A book? Are you sure, Harry?"

"Yes," he growled through gritted teeth. "Now let me up."

"Harry!" Lupin said, raising his voice slightly. "Calm down! What book is it?"

Harry calmed down momentarily. What had he done with it? Last year, after Snape had demanded to see it…

"The Room of Requirement," Harry said, breathing heavily. "It's a potions book. It has the answer in the vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement. You have to need a place to hide something, and it'll come up with a room. It's in the vanishing cabinet…"

Harry felt his strength waning. The room turned upside down once more, and merciful blackness engulfed him.

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"Harry," a voice said quietly.

Harry felt his mind emerge from its quiet, undisturbed corner of recuperation. The voice was gentle, soft, feminine. He knew it from somewhere.

Above him, though his vision was blurred, hung a massive brown blotch in the white ceiling. People were moving around him.

"Harry," the voice said again.

Harry blinked a few times. His head felt heavy and his eyelids droopy. "Wha…"

Someone put a cool hand on his forehead. "He's awake," said the voice. "Sort of."

Another voice, this one male, spoke distantly. "Hey mate," it said. "We're here."

There were other voices around him. Some said his name; others talked in excited whispers. Harry lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes.

The room came into sharper focus. He was still in the St. Mungo's room. It was midmorning, judging by the dancing November sunlight that filtered through the white curtains. There were people at the foot of his bed. Though the corners of his vision were still blurred, he knew who they were. There was Molly Weasley with her arm around Ginny, Bill standing next to them. Beside Bill was Lupin, and his hand was locked with Tonks' slender fingers. On the left side of his bed stood Ron, grinning down at him, and on his right, looking at him with pride, was…

"Hermione," he croaked, disbelievingly.

She looked pale and rather fragile, but very much alive and smiling the sweetest smile Harry had ever seen. He felt his throat constrict. A slow grin began to spread across his face. He pushed himself off the bed, noting that the throbbing had left his skull, and embraced her jubilantly. "Hermione," he said again, his eyes burning.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered, hugging him back.

Then Ron was there, wrapping his own lanky arms around them both. Harry couldn't believe it. Hermione was there, not a ghost, not a memory, but very tangibly there, standing up. Harry pushed away the terribly memory of her lying there, icy, like she were dead. She's alive, he thought, his spirits soaring. She's alive, she's alive… Harry felt the tears slide down his cheeks, but for once, they were not tears of fear or of hatred or of sorrow. He felt Hermione kiss him on the cheek, saw as if from afar Ron turn to Hermione and kiss her on the lips, heard the roar of Bill and Ginny as they exchanged a high-five, heard Mrs. Weasley squeal in surprise.

And suddenly, everything went quiet. Approaching his bed, slowly, almost unsure, emerging from the corner of the room, came Draco Malfoy. He had a nasty-looking cut that stretched from his left temple to his chin, and he limped as he approached, but his face bore no grimace of pain. He looked at Harry as Hermione and Ron parted to let him through. "You did it, Potter," he said quietly.

Harry looked into those dark eyes, saw the hand that he stuck out to shake, and then he abandoned all dignity and embraced Draco, whispering. "Thank you."

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"I was asleep for three days?" Harry asked incredulously. "Three days?"

Ron shrugged. Lupin stood over at the window, gazing out at the clear night sky. "I found that book, Harry, and I found the spell and the counter curse needed. Hermione was slipping away, you know. She wouldn't have held out much longer."

Harry rubbed his temples. "What did I do that put me out for so long?" he whispered.

"You did something very draining to your body, Harry. The healers said it had something to do with your Inner Sanctum."

Hermione looked sharply at Harry. Gazing at Lupin, Harry asked, remembering painfully the spell that had crossed his lips, "What was it?"

"You drained it. You forced it to do something that it didn't want to do."

Lupin turned away from the window and gazed at him intently. "Harry," he said quietly, "Did you perform one of them?"

Ron and Hermione looked from Lupin to Harry, clearly not understanding. But Harry knew perfectly well what he meant. He knew Lupin read the answer in his face.

"I didn't mean to," Harry whispered. "I didn't know what else to do… she was attacking Draco and he was bleeding, and Snape had me by the neck and my wand was ten feet away… it was the only thing I could think of. She screamed…" Bellatrix's screams reverberated in his mind even now, three days after he had cast the spell. He couldn't bear it. He shuddered violently.

Lupin nodded, silencing him. "I know. I don't hold you in any less esteem for it, Harry, I promise."

Ron still looked confused, but a grim understanding was crossing Hermione's face. "It's okay, Harry."

"It's not," he whispered, averting his eyes. "It's against the law. It's against everything I've ever learned. Dumbledore would never have…"

Lupin sat on the end of his bed, his head in his hands. "Harry," he said slowly, "that you could do what you did shows immense power. Very few people can cast those spells. Fewer ever do." He looked sharply at Harry. "But with that power," he said quietly, "comes great responsibility. You have an obligation to exercise prudence, a duty to make wise decisions. There are cases in which those three spells may be necessary, but there are very few. Never use them unless it is absolutely necessary."

Harry met his eyes. "I won't," he whispered.

They left soon after, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. His terrible, relentless, struggling thoughts. The ideas he had repressed since his encounter with Snape surfaced. Lily, his mother, and Snape? The thought repulsed him. And yet, he knew Snape hadn't been lying. He knew had seen it in those black, merciless eyes. Had she loved him? Why had she married James, then? He had seen Snape's memory in his fifth year. He had seen Lily, seen that she had hated James. Why were they married? Harry's thoughts whirled. He pictured Lily kissing Snape, greasy-haired, hook-nosed Snape, and he shuddered.

No, he thought.

A/N: Now I find myself wanting to write the scene where Lily kissed Snape, but I don't think I'm ever going to be able to work it in here. Too bad. So I might write it as a oneshot. That'd be fun… hmm….