When they got into her apartment, the first thing he did was to take a shower. She gave him some of her dad's clothes that she always kept around in case her parents visited. When he came out, all the grime and dirt was gone and she took a better look at him. His hair was very long now, down to below his shoulders. His face was gaunt from malnutrition. His eyes that were once full of energy and a mischievous twinkle were dull.
Harry tucked in heartily to the bacon and eggs that Hermione had prepared for him when he had been in the shower. They were both sitting on a couch in front of the TV and Harry had a plat on his lap, eating like there was no tomorrow. He halted for a moment and burped loudly which made Hermione giggle. He looked apologetically at her and dug back in. She let him eat in silence and when he was done, she took the plate from him and put it in the kitchen sink.
When she came back, Harry was lying on the couch with his forearm covering his eyes and yet she could see the tears of happiness flowing down his cheeks. She lifted his head up and sat down on the couch. She pulled his head onto her lap and started stroking his hair like she used to do in his sixth year when he had told her of the prophecy and he had broken down. He relaxed instantly and let out a deep breath of contentment. They talked quietly for a while but were both exhausted from the days activities.
She was thinking about all that had happened in the last two days. Harry had been set free and here he was, as sane as anybody. She couldn't get her mind off of it. She noticed his breath getting softer and realized that he had fallen asleep. She let her head fall back and soon was asleep as well.
She awoke several hours later, not quite refreshed. It was dark now and the light of the streetlamps outside her apartment cast an eerie orange glow to everything. She looked around to see what had woken her when she noticed that
Harry was gone and that she was lying on the couch, clutching a pillow. For a desperate moment, she thought it had all been an elaborate dream but let out a sigh of relief when she heard his voice.
"Have a good nap?" He asked softly from the doorway.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and nodded while yawning. She got up and made her way over to him. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the kitchen. She forced him into a chair and went about making tea. She put two steaming mugs of tea on the table and sat tin the seat opposite him.
"You have some explaining to do." She said. He nodded and she continued.
"How is it that you are still sane?" She asked curiously.
He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He took a drink and began.
"Do you remember all those times in sixth year when I disappeared for training?" He asked her. She nodded.
"Well, that training was originally supposed to keep Voldemort from getting in my head and finding out about the 'power that he knew not' part of the prophecy. The occlumency went fine and I mastered it by the end of the year. However we still hadn't gotten anywhere with the powers. After I got put in Azkaban, I went mad within a few months. Each day seemed to last for an eternity. All I could see and hear was the vision of my mothers screams as Voldemort killed her."
"It was on my 18th birthday what I was rescued. The powers kicked in by themselves. They pulled me out of madness. Suddenly, I was no longer affected by the dementors. It was as if a veil that had been covering my eyes was lifted. I suddenly knew what I could do. Even now, they are still increasing. If I hadn't been announced innocent, I would have apparated out of there within a few months. I would have had enough raw magical power to bypass the anti-apparition wards. Now, the magic doesn't teach me things I didn't know already. Otherwise I could have just conjured food whenever I was hungry. We hadn't done that before I was imprisoned. Instead, it magnifies my normal power and allows me to do things that normal wizards don't have enough magic for. Such as…" He drifted off.
He held up his hand in front of her and cupped them together. There was a blue glow inside it that seeped out through the cracks where his fingers met. It suddenly stopped and when he opened his hands, there was a softly pulsing ball of blue energy hovering an inch above his hand. She looked at it in amazement and interest. He took his free hand and with a swipe of his finger, a large gash appeared on his forearm.
"HARRY WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Hermione shrieked in terror. He smiled warmly at her and brought his other hand down. When the blue ball made contact with the cut, the cut sealed up and disappeared without leaving a scar.
Hermione slumped back in her seat and covered her mouth with her hands while staring at his woundless forearm. He smiled at her again and waved a hand in front of her face. She snapped out of it and her gaze shot up to Harry's face so fast that Harry missed it. She grabbed his arm and ran her fingers over where the cut had just been, trying to convince herself of what she had just seen. Harry chuckled at her.
"I asked Madame Pomfrey to teach me that spell since I kept on getting so many quidditch bruises. Normally you need a wand for it and it only works on bruises and small scrapes but if you put a lot of power into it, you can heal broken bones and such."
She didn't give any sign that she had heard him but just kept running her fingers over his arm, not looking up. He put his hand on top of hers and held it tightly. She looked up at him and smiled.
"Harry you have to stop surprising me like this or I am liable to have a heart attack." She said.
He grinned at her. She yawned and so did he.
"I guess we're still not fully awake. We should get some sleep. It's probably going to be a very long day."
They both got up and Harry made for the living room and Hermione made for her bedroom.
"Harry, we're both adults. We can sleep in the same bed without getting embarrassed. I've known you for 12 years. And besides, I never realized how uncomfortable that couch is until today. My neck is so sore."
Harry looked slightly scared at the prospect.
"And what happens if I accidentally touch something I shouldn't be touching?" He asked her.
She let out an exasperated sigh. "Listen Harry, like I said, I've known you for 12 years now. If you do touch anything accidentally, I'll know that it was just that. An accident. Now come on." She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into her bedroom. She went over to a wardrobe that was placed at the far end of the room and pulled out a long floral nightgown.
"Turn around." She told him. He did so and a minute later, she turned him around again. She got under the large duvet covers and he lay down on top of them. She sighed again.
"Harry, you'll get cold. Now get under here." She ordered imperiously. He grinned at her a little nervously as he did so. She turned off the light on the bedside table and propped herself on her elbow to face Harry.
"I'm really glad you're back Harry." She said softly. He too propped himself up onto his side.
"It's good to be back." HE said. He leant over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before laying back down again. She put her head on his shoulder and an arm across his chest. He was too stunned to say anything and was stiff at first but found that he enjoyed the feeling. He relaxed and kissed her forehead.
"Goodnight" He whispered. She was already half-asleep and only managed a half mumbled goodnight before her breathing steadied and she fell asleep. He too closed his eyes and felt the darkness overtake him.
Ron Weasley lay in bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. He tried desperately to fall asleep to no avail. He couldn't stop thinking about Harry.
'He's innocent.' He thought to himself incredulously. 'He's innocent and I treated him like shit. He'll never forgive me. Not that I deserve to be forgiven. What have I done? What have I done?' The last words echoed through his head repeatedly.
Silent tears of regret slid down his cheeks and he rubbed them away furiously. When he had heard that Harry was being convicted, he had felt a guilty pleasure.
'He always has people fawning over him. It'll be good to bring him down a notch.' He had thought to himself then. His jealousy of Harry being the Boy-Who-Lived broke through and he was blinded by it. Somewhere in the back of his head, a tiny voice was yelling at him and saying that Harry would never kill Hagrid. He had quickly squashed it down and ranted and raved in his mind at how even though he had killed someone, Harry would probably only get a slap on the wrist considering that everyone adored the Boy-Who-Lived.
At his testimony, he had not only told of what he saw at the incident but at how he woke during the night screaming, making him out to be a lunatic. He was uncaring about the hurt look that Harry gave him. He ignored him and went on describing Harry's lunacy. Meanwhile, Harry's face had turned from hurt to terrifyingly cold. Even though he was on trial for murder, he looked supremely unconcerned about it.
After he had been declared guilty, the dementors had come in and swept him away but not before Harry had shot one last glare at Ron who wore a triumphant look on his face.
"What have I done?" He asked himself before returning to staring at the ceiling.
