A brief added scene, set at the end of Goblet of Fire.

It was late when Madame Pomfrey reluctantly agreed to release him from the hospital wing, and Harry only earned his freedom by promising to go straight to his dormitory and to sleep. The lure of his own bed was tempting after two nights of starchy hospital sheets, but he knew sleep would not come easy, and even as the doors closed behind him, his mind had begun to race.

Without really thinking about it, his feet led him up a set of spiral stairs, and he blinked to find himself at the top of the Astronomy Tower. All around, the night sky was dark and quiet, the deceptive calm acting as a balm to the chaos he knew was brewing just out of sight.

Finding a suitable spot, he sat down carefully, hugging his knees into his chest as he took a moment to just stop.

Ever since the moment he had touched that cup in the maze...no, the moment he had heard Dumbledore announce that his name had come out of the Goblet...his world had been going at a hundred miles an hour. From his fight with Ron to becoming a social pariah, fighting a dragon, having his private life constantly open for scrutiny by that two-bit hack who called herself a journalist, diving into the lake and fighting merpeople, the maze and now…

And now Voldermort was back.

Despite the non-stop conversations about it, it was the first time Harry had really allowed himself to think it.

Voldermort was back.

And it was all his fault.

"Harry?"

A gentle voice sparked Harry out of his spiral, and he was halfway to his feet, wand in hand before he recognised the figure.

"Hermione."

She smiled tentatively, slowly approaching his hiding spot, and Harry sank back down to the floor, his heart starting to approach a normal rhythm.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have startled you. Not the best idea, all things considered."

Harry could only manage a grimace. Smiles seemed a long time ago. Hermione took a moment, seeming to weigh up the situation, and then slid down to sit beside him. There was a silence between them, but it wasn't awkward or tense. In fact, for the first time since he entered the maze, Harry felt comforted.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" He looked up, following the gaze of the young witch. The sky was filled with stars, most of which were far beyond his skills of identification. There was one, however, which always stood out brightest to him, and which seemed to have placed itself firmly in his eyeline, as though determined to stand out. The Dog Star.

"I wish he hadn't had to go."

Without turning his head, he knew that Hermione was looking at him.

"I mean. I get it. There's things he has to do. Important things. And I know he'll be safe at Lupin's. And I know we have to move quickly. And all this is more important than what I want. But still. I wish he hadn't had to go."

He sensed rather than saw Hermione's head tilt slightly; she always did that when she was listening.

"He didn't want to." Her voice was soft. "You know he didn't. Dumbledore practically had to throw him out of that hospital wing away from you. If it was his choice, he would have stayed. It's just…"

"Yeah. I know. The war." Harry didn't mean to interrupt her, but he didn't seem to have much control at the moment. "Responsibilities."

"Yeah."

There was another silence between them as they continued to gaze up at the night sky, the wind a gentle whisper around the tall tower.

"It's not your fault you know."

Harry paused at her words, still gazing upwards.

"I know you think you caused this somehow. Voldermort coming back…Cedric..." her voice faltered. "What happened to Cedric. I know you blame yourself."

Harry scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous…"

"I know you Harry James Potter. I've known you for almost five years, and I know how you think. You think that if you hadn't taken Cedric with you, he'd still be alive. You think that if you hadn't gone to the graveyard, Voldermort wouldn't have come back. God, you've probably convinced yourself that if you had different blood then the ritual would have failed, and none of this would have happened!"

Harry opened his mouth, ready to protest, but the words wouldn't come out. The stars above suddenly seemed to have a blur to their edges, as though he was seeing them through water, and he blinked hard.

"But none of that is true."

Hermione's voice remained soft, but there was steel behind her words.

"The only person to blame for Cedric's death is Voldermort. And the only person to blame for Voldermort coming back is Pettigrew."

There seemed to be something the matter with Harry's throat; it was becoming hard to swallow.

"Absolutely none of this is your fault."

Harry blinked again, but the stars didn't lose their fuzzy edges. Instead, he realised his cheeks were wet, and he furiously wiped at them with his sleeve. There was a gentle pressure on his leg, and he looked down to see Hermione's hand resting gently on his knee. He looked up to see her steady brown eyes meet his, a fierce expression on her face. She fixed him with her steely gaze as she repeated her words.

"This. Is. Not. Your. Fault."

Words seemed to be failing him, and all he could do was nod. That seemed to satisfy the witch, however, and she smiled gently before returning her gaze to the sky. The silence resumed, but this time it was different. For the first time since he touched that cup, Harry didn't feel alone.

"I'm scared Hermione."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, but he felt no desire to pull them back. He knew she wouldn't judge.

Hermione met his gaze once again, her face full of understanding.

"I'm scared too. People like me aren't exactly on Voldemort's Christmas card list, you know. Muggleborns and blood supremacy don't really mix."

"I'd never let him hurt you." For the first time since he left the graveyard, Harry felt something other than dragging fear and dread. He felt fire. "I don't care what I have to do-"

Hermione put her hand on his arm, cutting off the flow of speech.

"You don't have to do anything, Harry. That's my point. You're not on your own. Dumbledore is organising a defense as we speak. There are a whole army of trained Aurors who are loyal to him. The Weasleys would do anything for you, Sirius would rather cut off his own head than let anyone touch you, and Ron would fight a lion for you."

She paused, lowering her head. Harry nudged her teasingly.

"And what, you'd let me steal half your cheesecake at dinner?"

She laughed, looking back up at straight at him

"Let's not go that far. But I'll break every school rule for you, how's that?"

Harry laughed, and felt the weight in his chest ease a little. Hermione leaned in, her head on his shoulder.

"It's nice to hear you laugh."

She paused.

"Everythings going to change now isn't it?"

Harry sighed, wondering if there was any way to deny it, to make it better, to soften the blow.

"Yes."

He felt her sigh, and then her shoulders stiffen in determination.

"Well this won't."

She sat up, looking him straight in the eyes, and repeated her words.

"This will never change."

Their eyes locked, and in that moment, something passed between them. Something unspoken, and amazing, and unbreakable. Hermione smiled, before settling back in, head on his shoulder, as they turned their attention back to the stars overhead.

Somewhere out there, Voldermort was reigning wrath on his Death Eaters for allowing Harry to escape. Peter Pettigrew was placating his master, desperate to affirm his position within the ranks. Death Eaters were rallying the troops, answering the call, and reawakening dark powers. Sirius Black was knocking on the door of a cottage well hidden in the woods, exhausted from the journey, and terrified for his godson. Severus Snape was bowing before the Dark Lord, praying that his cover remained intact. Aurors and Order members were awakening, shaking off ancient spells, unlocking secret documents, and preparing themselves for the worse.

Somewhere out there, war was brewing.

But right here, just for this brief, fleeting moment, Harry Potter was at peace. As long as he had this brilliant witch by his side, fighting in his corner, he could take on whatever Voldermort threw at him.

And that would never change.