JK Rowling is the owner of Harry Potter, we, however, are the proud writers and readers of Harry Potter fanfiction.

Hermione asked Harry to tell stories about his childhood; she thought it would be good for him to remember the happy times, and she was really curious. What had her other self been like? Apparently she had been awesome. Someone who was always prepared, someone who always figured out the answer to riddles, someone who always came up with the plan. Someone Harry depended on.

She wasn't like that - Hermione knew she could have been - but she was softer than her counterpart. Really she was useless. Everyone depended on Harry, but he didn't have anyone he could depend on. Certainly not her. She'd been an awful friend, unlike his Hermione who had always stuck by him.

One night at Harry's apartment, after she grabbed her pizza and sat on one end of the green couch with red pillows, Hermione asked in a small voice, "Don't you wish I was like her - somebody who could help you the way she helped you? Someone you could depend on?"

"I do depend on you." Harry appeared confused for a moment before his face morphed into a sympathetic expression, He scooted over on the couch and gave Hermione a tight hug, "you shouldn't compare yourself to her. You are a wonderful person, just like she was, but you aren't the same person, and you shouldn't want to be."

Hermione buried her face into Harry's shoulder, "but I abandoned you, and I've never helped you on anything important, or protected you -"

Hermione slowly relaxed as Harry silently stroked her hair, after a minute he said, "You do realize I've known you longer than I knew her? My life without you would be so empty - I love listening to you talk, and - remember how you could tell when I had a nightmare, and you'd talk to me until I relaxed. If you weren't there my life would have sucked."

Hermione sniffled a bit as she sat back to look at Harry's face, "really?"

"Really," Harry nodded firmly, "can you imagine what I would have been like if we weren't friends? I'd have made a principled point of never talking to other students, and spent the entire time training in the Room of Requirements, and Dobby and Sirius would have been my only friends - and while I love both of them…."

Hermione giggled while still leaning on Harry; she enjoyed the feel of his warm arm around her. Harry probably would have acted that way. But - "still, don't you wish I was cooler, and able to help with practical things?"

"No." When Harry didn't continue Hermione looked up at him with a question in her eyes. Hermione felt more than saw Harry's shrug, "The only reason we were like that at all was because Dumbledore failed to protect us. Children shouldn't nearly die again and again; if they are forced to grow up like that, it means the adults failed horribly. If you'd grown up paranoid and terrified of failing to protect me, that would have been a horrible failure on my part."

"Yes, but, even if it is - technically good - that I didn't grow up that way, wouldn't it be nice if your best friend could support you that way? Could protect you?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I already have Dobby for backup, and life turned me into the paranoid git who always tries to be ready for the worst to happen, we really don't need two of me. Besides, you are missing something important - not only was she a different person than you are, I wasn't the person you've known." Harry grabbed his pizza with his free arm and started to eat, "You see, we weren't friends until Ron and I saved her from the troll. And our life was always filled with dangerous adventures, professors trying to kill me, researching threats and preparing to fight You-Know-Who. You can't go through some things without becoming close and facing death together is one of them."

Hermione kept herself squished against Harry, but sat up she could also eat her pizza as Harry continued, "We were friends because we fought together. I wasn't very studious, and until Ron got angry at me over the Goblet of Fire I always felt closer to him than her." Harry's gaze became unfocused as he remembered, "We made fun of how hard she studied and the time she spent in the library, and she'd force us to do our homework, and then she'd check over our essays - sometimes she'd even do part of our work for us, Ron had her do more school work for him than I did, but I certainly took advantage of her."

Hermione frowned as she imagined a Harry who didn't read and who needed help with his homework. It was a weird image, her Harry was mature and smart and talked about books with her - it was Neville or Susan who she'd help with homework, and Harry made sure everyone did the work themselves so they would learn properly. Hermione wrinkled her nose, "I like my version of you more."

Harry had been drinking soda as she spoke and he snorted it up as he started to laugh, "excuse me" he blew his nose with a napkin and then looked at her with a red face and bright eyes, "I'm glad you approve".

Hermione flushed, "obviously, the only reason you turned out so well is due to the hard work of that other me: don't feel too pleased."

Harry laughed, "that is definitely true."

They grinned at each other for a minute before Harry spoke again, "My friendship with you has always been different, I've always talked more with you than I ever did with her; in a lot of ways I know you better - also don't forget, I've known you longer than I knew her."

A giant smile forced itself across Hermione's face, somehow his answer had settled her anxiety. She snuggled into Harry's side again, and he obligingly put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Hermione didn't stop smiling as she said, "you must have terribly bored when I was a child and I'd babble on and on and on about books. I mean you already knew everything…."

Harry coughed up his soda again, "I already knew everything? Well, if you think I did, I suppose you must be right…."

Hermione smacked him and laughed, "Of course you didn't know everything, you just convinced an impressionable child that you did. Honestly, you should ashamed of yourself."

"I suppose I should be." Harry squeezed Hermione closer and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead, "I apologize to mini Hermione for being so dastardly as to appear perfect. Could you relay my profound regrets to her?"

They both giggled before Harry said, "I was never bored, at first I just wanted you to be happy, but had no idea what to say. So if you talked it would be easier. But," Harry shrugged, "while I'd never have believed this as a child, books are interesting. And when you talked you'd get this glint in your eye and your voice would catch your enthusiasm, and you'd move your hands like this," Harry gestured, and then he said in a fervent voice, "It would be impossible to become bored listening to you."

When Harry finished Hermione's mouth fell open, "Harry, I think that might just be the sweetest thing you've ever said to me."

He blushed brightly; Hermione couldn't stop smiling and she had a warm feeling in her chest. After a moment she leaned up and kissed Harry on the cheek, "thank you for always listening."

Harry only blushed brighter and they sat there for several minutes holding each other. Eventually Hermione asked, "Can you tell me more about how you think she was different, besides the obvious?"

Harry kept his arm around her while he frowned at the brown coffee table and collected his thoughts, "None of us had a proper childhood and we all knew after the first year that it was up to us to solve every problem. We couldn't rely on the adults. In an important way she stopped being a child when she was twelve. She felt like if she didn't work as hard as possible, if she wasn't the smartest I would die, and it would be her fault." Harry stuttered to a stop and swore, "Damn Dumbledore. Damn him. She was eighteen, she had stress lines around her eyes and she was always desperately scared."

After he trailed off Harry stared at the Hogwarts diploma above the TV for a minute before he said, "I suppose we already talked about that difference, the other obvious way you two always seemed different is that," Harry turned to Hermione and shrugged, "I don't know why, but she was desperately driven in school in a way you never have been. You enjoy school, and it is important to you, but when she faced a Bogart third year her greatest fear was being told she'd failed all of her classes…."

Harry turned pale, "Merlin, I thought it was silly at the time," Harry sounded sick, "My best friend thought she'd be worthless if she couldn't prove that she was the smartest; she felt the only reason we wanted her was because of her intelligence. And I never realized…."

Harry pulled his arm away from Hermione and his gaze darted around the room as he rubbed his hair. "Don't," Hermione grabbed Harry's face and turned it towards her, "You were a child. It doesn't do any good to wish you'd acted differently." Hermione held eye contact until Harry nodded.

She leaned back against Harry again, and pulled his arm around her. Harry sighed and shook his head, "Still, Merlin! I never realized ... You've never been like that. I don't know why, but I'm glad."

Hermione smiled, "Its all you, of course. You made sure I knew you'd love me no matter what. Everyone else, my parents, my teachers, everyone would tell me that I was smart, while you told me you believed in me and would always be my friend no matter what. Besides, I always knew you were smarter than me, so there was no point worrying about being the best."

Harry looked confused as he set the crust from a slice of pizza down on his plate, "I was always smarter than you?"

Hermione laughed, "Don't be silly, even without the 'I'm a decade older and have done it before' thing you are brilliant. I mean think about the things you've done." Harry still looked confused. Hermione realized he didn't see himself as smart. Was it her counterpart's fault?

Goodness though, it was time for Harry to realize what he'd actually accomplished, "Stop being silly. You do realize dumb people can't do your job? And look at everything you've accomplished. An idiot couldn't have done that."

Harry glanced at the table with his thinking scowl and then looked up at her half a minute later with a twisted smile, "Bloody hell, you're right. I am brilliant. Wow. I'd never realized."

Harry had a stunned expression as he sat back. After a moment Hermione said in a faux stern tone through which her smile could easily be heard, "don't let it go to your head."

"I don't know, it easily could. I think I'll get all puffed up, and go around telling everyone I'm the smartest and - " Hermione smacked Harry to stop him.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure it doesn't."

Two weeks later they had dinner near the back of a small curry place. Harry had set up privacy wards so they could freely talk, and over the past few weeks Hermione had read several psychology textbooks. Most said it was a good for people to talk about horrible experiences with someone they trusted. Obviously, Harry couldn't talk to a psychiatrist: between 'magic doesn't exist' and 'mass murder is illegal' it would be a really bad idea. So Hermione knew it would have to be her who helped Harry talk about the things that gave him nightmares.

She thought it was probably the fighting that had been the most traumatic, so after the waiter brought their plates of food she asked, "Was it horrible being a soldier and killing people?"

Harry frowned as he stopped spooning his curry onto the rice, "I'm not sure we should talk about this, I did some nasty things, and … I'm not sure you want to hear about them." He looked away from her, "I'm not sure I want to tell you."

"I know you don't want to talk about this, but you went through awful things, and just holding it in isn't good for you. When someone has gone through something traumatic they should talk about it so they can get distance and -"

Harry interrupted her with a touch on the arm, "I wasn't traumatized by killing people. I wasn't traumatized by the fighting. I liked it." Harry glanced around uneasily before he locked his eyes on Hermione, "that's what I don't want to tell you. What I -" Harry looked down at his hands, "I'm scared Hermione, I will never lie to you, but I'm worried that if - if you understand what I really am you'll decide that I'm evil after all, and that I am a monster, and you'll run again and never return."

"I don't want that," Harry visibly swallowed as he stared at his hands, "I really don't want that."

Hermione's stomach felt awful; this was her fault. She'd called Harry a monster and now he'd internalized it. Hermione grabbed Harry's shoulder and made him look at her, "you aren't a monster. I was wrong, you shouldn't believe that you are awful because I said that and -"

There was a glint of amusement in Harry's eye when he interrupted her, "I am a monster, just like a dragon is a monster. But I don't dislike myself anymore than a dragon would." Harry saw the disagreement in her eyes and continued, "Think, those legendary heroes, Achilles or Hector or King Arthur, if you view them from the perspective of their enemies, if you think about how many people they killed, and how much more powerful than a normal man they were, it would be accurate to call them monsters."

Hermione lightly joked despite her sick feeling, "King Arthur and Achilles? A dragon? At least you don't have self esteem problems."

Harry grinned at her, then for a minute they silently picked at their food. Hermione still felt awful. Harry, rightly, didn't trust her to always be there for him. Even if he didn't hate himself, she needed Harry to trust her, to know that no matter what she would - she would love him. She needed Harry to be able to tell her anything.

There was also a bit of anxiety: what was he hiding that he was still scared to tell her about? Thoughts of awful things he might have done in his first world, during that quest for vengeance flashed through Hermione's mind, and she committed again: no matter what she would never reject him.

Hermione looked at Harry as he slowly pushed his chicken tikka masala around, "Harry do you trust me?"

Hermione felt her stomach flip as Harry's green eyes seemed to look through her soul before he nodded. Hermione then held his eyes and said intently, willing him to believe her, "I won't run away again, I will never run away from you again." A very old memory from the day when Harry showed her his broom went through Hermione's mind, "Nothing you tell me will ever make me less your friend."

Harry looked away from her and swallowed hard, then he stared at his food as he slowly collected his thoughts. "Battle," he began, "is more fun than anything else. You know one of you will die and your blood is humming and everything is intense and bright and a second feels like a minute. And you are completely focused, and then you blow his arm off, or cut the big arteries in the leg, or get an instant kill through."

Harry stared out into the restaurant, "better duelists can stop it but you can transfigure the air in someone's lungs into an explosive. I almost always try that before anything else. Its not as much fun as a real fight, but you don't want a real fight if there is a large group. When fighting a group you don't feel anything as you kill them because everything is focused on the next opponent, but when you've defeated the last one that thrill of knowing you are alive and they are dead, there is no better feeling in the world."

After a pause where he scooped his rice and curry onto a torn off piece of roti Harry continued, "There was an American general during their civil war who said something like 'it is good that war is so awful, else we would come to love it' - I'd seen how awful it was when everyone died, but I still came to love it. I miss the adrenaline, the feeling of desperation, and the plotting and preparation, the knowledge there is no do-over, and that mistakes are fatal. Flying or hunting acromantulas can't provide a comparable thrill. I have wonderful dreams about battles, the real hard fights when I hit a group too big or things I did in Africa; there are some extremely good warriors there."

Harry trailed off and Hermione touched him on the arm, and asked "I thought your nightmares were about fighting?"

"No, my nightmares are where other people die. Most often her, it happened right in front of me after all. Sometimes you. Sometimes the two of you are merged in my dreams. Other people. Luna especially - she didn't have any friends for years and she was killed even younger than your counterpart. Dobby, he died right in front of me when Bellatrix sent a knife through him. I still have nightmares about Cedric Diggory dying, he was the first person I saw killed, I was only fourteen. Sirius was killed by Bellatrix LeStrange when she knocked him through the veil in the Department of Mysteries."

Harry took a swallow from his chai tea and shook his head, "Merlin!" He let out a deep breath, "I've seen a lot of people die."

They ate in silence for another minute before Hermione asked, "Are there any stories that stick out from the time you were fighting?"

Harry frowned at his plate for a minute, "I suppose my most vivid memory is when I killed You-Know-Who. He had his soul anchors, and while we'd destroyed all of them he made another one; it fragmented his humanity even further - he was completely insane. So I sent him a letter; it said something like 'I'll be at Godric's Hollow, come alone if you aren't a coward'. He was insane, so he just apparated there immediately. And he stood in the open, completely unprotected, in this black robe that exposed half his chest, ranting and taunting me. By this point I was something of a professional, so I ignored what he said and lined up a shot and stunned him.."

Harry paused as the waiter refilled their water, "You see I needed to find where he'd put the other soul anchor to permanently destroy him; I later discovered a much much easier way to deal with someone who'd made horcruxes. That was how I destroyed the You-Know-Who in this universe."

Harry continued, "I took him back to the camp I'd set up with Charlie, Kreacher and Winky. We forced a potion down his throat, which temporarily made it so he couldn't use magic, tied him up and woke him."

Harry's eyes grew distant, "There he was, he looked stunned, he didn't have any eyebrows and his face was completely pale and snakelike - the resurrection hadn't gone perfectly - and he was scared. He was so scared. He had these wide eyes." Harry smiled as he remembered, "And then there was a sound and I could smell it, he shat himself, and then I asked 'well Mr. Riddle, do you want to tell me where your horcrux is' and he replied 'fuck you Potter' - but he was still definitely scared, and then -"

Harry gestured as though he was pointing his wand at something beneath him, "Crucio. I just held it for a minute. And he screamed, and screamed, and screamed." Harry smile became creepy as he stared into the memories, "When I let go he didn't say 'fuck you again' he just watched at me. I could see it in his eyes; he knew he'd tell me. Voldemort had tortured so many, but he had no pain tolerance, nobody had ever dared to hurt him since he was a boy. So I cast it again, and held it for another minute - he was having trouble screaming by this point because his vocal cords were damaged, but he hurt I could tell."

Harry pulled his lips back and brandished his teeth, and Hermione thought he was too absorbed in the memory to see her anymore, "I thought if I just stared at him a bit longer he'd tell me, so I didn't give him the chance." Harry gestured with his hand again, "Crucio. After that he told me. It only took three minutes to break the 'most terrifying dark lord ever'. Pathetic. He then told me where his horcrux was, and all of its defenses. So I took Kreacher for backup and left Charlie there with Winky to keep an eye on Voldemort. Then I came back with the horcrux."

"He'd done everything to escape death, he'd even stuck it in his name 'flees from death', so I made it painless," Hermione could see the muscles in Harry's neck tense as he bit out, "He had to know he was dying, he shouldn't have anything to distract him from the fact he'd lost and this was the end. I destroyed the horcrux in front of him and then cast a numbing spell and just barely nicked one of the arteries in his groin so he could see the blood slowly ooze out to form a bigger and bigger puddle but wouldn't be able to feel it."

"We all got beers and set up chairs so we could drink while watching him. It took two hours - we cast several blood replenishing spells so he'd have plenty of time to think - and we joked the whole time. And his eyes - I talked to Charlie about it later and we agreed - the panic in them was the most beautiful sight either of us had ever seen. Then we made a game of destroying the body; Kreacher was very inventive."

When he trailed off Harry's eyes were stunned, and he looked away, pushing a hand against his mouth. Hermione stomach felt tight and sick as she watched Harry stare away from her. The story was horrible, but - and she knew this attitude was wrong - but You-Know-Who deserved to die that way; all that mattered was Harry. How could she make him happier? Hermione furiously debated with herself: should she grab Harry's hand, should she say something?

Before Hermione acted, Harry looked at her with wide eyes, "That was the happiest day of my life. That shouldn't have been the happiest day of my life. I shouldn't have even enjoyed it. I -" Harry swallowed and turned away again, "I should have just killed him. It didn't matter what he'd done, it was wrong to -"

Hermione reached across the table and grabbed Harry's arm; he looked at her hand, and looked away from her again. "Look at me," Harry's face was scared as Hermione looked into his eyes and passionately said, "you aren't a monster, anyone who'd gone through what you had would have felt like that." She held Harry's eyes until he swallowed and nodded, then Hermione said, "Don't ever think you are anything but a good person. Ever."

Thankyou for reading, I don't know if you will agree, but this is my favorite chapter. Bits of the first conversation are so cute and fluffy, and I think the Harry's description of killing Voldemort is the best thing I've written yet. Though what makes me like it may not make you as a reader like it.