As Harry forced one leg to move in front of the other, he managed to leave the courtyard and enter into the hallways of the castle. Within moments, Neville appeared and pushed himself against Harry to keep him upright.
"Thanks mate," Harry mumbled.
"Yeah, sure. Man, what a duel! I watched it, didn't see the end though. What did you do to Malfoy at the end?" Neville asked as he tried to support Harry and help him walk.
"Ow, other arm, other shoulder," Harry said biting down, until Neville moved from the left shoulder with the burned hand to Harry's right. "I didn't do anything to him," Harry then added, still mumbling. If Neville heard this or found it odd, he did not reveal so.
"Is it done then? You and Malfoy," Neville asked.
"Yeah," Harry said, trying to look back at the courtyard though he had to give up turning his neck; too difficult a movement at the moment. "Yeah, think so."
As they came towards the stairs, they were greeted by the Weasley twins. "Looks like quite a fight," one of them said with raised eyebrows at Harry's state.
"What – why are you guys out here?" Harry asked.
"We did some patrolling of the halls tonight. Lots of Slytherin lads out tonight, would you believe it," one of them said. "And Filch, had to give him quite a run-around. Flitwick was out and about too, but him we just gave a short detour that led away from the courtyard."
"Yeah, Flitwick's not a bad sort – for a professor, that is," the other twin added.
"Thanks," Harry said with as much a smile as he could muster. "You three have been real mates tonight."
"No sweat, Harry. Your hand looks terrible, by the way, and the rest of you aren't too shiny either," a Weasley said. Normally, Harry had grown fairly adept at telling them apart, at least if he had a few minutes to identify their speech patterns and small tells. With his current state, however, he gave up.
"Thanks for reminding me, I almost forgot the searing pain I was in," Harry murmured and managed to get a brief laugh out of his companions as they helped him up the tower.
"Sometimes it feels like punishment that Gryffindor students got a tower for their living quarters," Harry added, reminded too well of last time these three particular gentlemen had helped him traverse this path.
"Blimey, Harry, that could be considered two jokes in a row! Careful you don't strain your funny muscles, they must be all but dwindled away," a twin winked. Harry realised he was right; this was the first time he had joked about anything in a long time. He tried to wink back and laugh, but only managed to cough.
The portrait gave them admittance to the common room and did not even bother to remark on students being out at night or the state Harry was in. It was starting to be old news. The common room was not empty, however. Light burned inside, revealing Hermione sitting in a chair and staring straight at them. There was some uncomfortable shuffle back and forth, as it somehow felt like it was Professor McGonagall or such who had caught them.
"Thanks for tonight, mates," Harry said. "I'll see you tomorrow." Neville and the two Weasleys said goodnight and left the room, leaving Hermione to stare at Harry with an expression on her face he could not scrutinise. "Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry started out saying. He was not quite sure yet for what, but apologising was probably the right way to begin. "I don't doubt you strongly disagree with what I have done tonight and how it led to my present state."
She narrowed her eyes. "You mean duelling with Malfoy?"
"So, I should just assume everybody knows," Harry said while moving forward so he could lean his arm against the back of a chair. "Yes, we duelled," he then admitted.
"Do you feel better?" One might have expected the question to be asked sarcastically, but it sounded genuine.
"I'm not sure," Harry said honestly. "I think so. Well not physically, obviously, I have no idea how to get rid of that enfeeblement he hit me with. But mentally, I feel… relieved?" Harry suggested.
"I'm glad then," Hermione said, moving forward and letting her gaze examine him. "Even if I wish it hadn't been violence that made you feel better."
"That's it, though," Harry intervened. "I didn't hurt him. I was going to, and I had the chance. But I stopped, I just… realised it was pointless. Hurting him would have felt good for that moment, while it lasted. But I'd probably still be mad as hell afterwards. Not that I forgive him or anything. But maybe I was able to let go a little bit," Harry finished his analysis, that was as good as one could hope from the psychological insights of a 15-year old.
Harry knew that some part of him was still hurting; that the scars on his chest still were painful in some sense of the word. A part of him still wanted to hurt Malfoy back, perhaps even as far as kill him just to be rid of him forever. But the rest of him, which seemed to be the majority, just wanted to feel good again. If his life was hurling towards an untimely end in an encounter with Voldemort, Harry wanted to feel some modicum of happiness until then.
Hermione stepped forward and hugged Harry, and he felt himself lean forward a bit to support himself on her. "Maybe there's hope for you yet, Harry," she whispered and she gave his hand a squeeze. Unfortunately it was the left one, and he could not prevent from making an outburst of pain.
"Not that one," he gasped, and she stepped back to examine his hand with a trained eye.
"Fire, again? Really?" she shook her head and pushed him towards a chair near the table. On it stood a small basket with various vials, herbs and similar supplies.
"You were camping out here in the common room with a first aid kit?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"I told you, Harry. I can't stop you from doing stupid things, so I'll just be here to patch you up afterwards," Hermione said matter-of-factly and gave him a piece of chocolate to help clear his mind from the enfeeblement, before she took out a flask and applied its content to his burned skin. It instantly cooled and Harry felt the pain relief flood through his system.
"Thanks, Hermione."
"It's what I am here for."