Terror Strikes At The Heart Of The Ministry of Magic - Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, Gravely Injured

Many Ministry personnel were woken up abruptly last night with urgent news of a terrorist attack right in the middle of the Ministry's headquarters under Whitehall. Security was fully breached with multiple trespassers breaking into the lower levels of the Ministry. As of yet, information is highly classified. Who had broken into the Ministry and why, we at The Daily Prophet do not have the answers.

One shocking piece of news came not from the Ministry, but from eyewitnesses in the Emergency Response Unit at St Mungo's Hospital. None other than Harry Potter himself was seen arriving in critical condition as multiple healers fought to keep him alive. The Head Healer was heard expressing the severity of his injuries. One eyewitness told our ground reporters that Mr Potter appeared to not be breathing while being rushed into critical care. Since his shocking arrival, the entire hospital has been in a full security lockdown.

We can only assume that the two events are linked, though it does make us question why the fifteen-year-old wizard was in the Ministry and whether he was involved in the security breach...

Cornelius Fudge, Minister Of Magic, Officially Announces The Return Of He Who Must Not Be Named

Delivering a statement from the Ministry Atrium, Minister Fudge confirms that the Dark Wizard known under a redacted moniker, one that cannot be printed, is alive and at large.

"From the substantial evidence retrieved from the crime scene at the Ministry and from the testimonies of witnesses, we must accept that the wizard known as Lord Vol- him, has returned. While this news is, of course, devastating, we must however take encouragement from how his efforts to strike a terrible blow at the heart of the Ministry failed. Ten of his followers are in Ministry custody, five of which will be subjected to the Dementor's Kiss. The rest will each receive life sentences in Azkaban."

The Minister's statement can be read in full on Page 5.

Albus Dumbledore Restored As Headteacher Of Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry

With all charges against the headmaster dropped, Professor Dumbledore has been cleared to resume his post. Dolores Umbridge has since been removed, pending a review into her unorthodox teaching and disciplinary methods...

Harry lost interest in catching up with the news once he absently flicked through just the first paper. The next had his name emblazoned on the front page. He was treated to the glaringHarry Potter Vindicated as the choice for that day's headline. The picture they had chosen still moved. Annoyingly, it was from last year, taken after the Second Task. He was a sodden mess, though was grinning sloppily from his surprise success. An exasperated Hermione was just visible with Viktor Krum in the background.

He wasn't interested in reading a story about how he'd been right all along from the perspective of a hypocrite, so he put aside all the copies of The Daily Prophet that Ron thought he'd want to see when he got out of hospital. The gesture confused him as Harry had never liked publicity, in fact he made it very clear that he hated the attention - positive as well as negative. He wasn't that curious about what the Ministry and the press were allowed to release to the public, not when he had all the facts himself.

Sighing, Harry set the last paper down on the counter bedside his bed, trying to not knock over his potions in the dim light of the hospital wing. The morning sunshine filtered through the drawn curtains. The clock on the wall told him that it was breakfast down in the Great Hall, meaning his day of doing absolutely nothing was due to start. He'd already spent the past couple of hours forlornly staring into space. He couldn't sleep, woken up violently from a nightmare full of pained screams and purple flames.

The slow progress of his recovery frustrated him to the point where he was very certain Madam Pomfrey was going to silence him to stop his whining. Being reminded that he'd almost been a corpse humbled him a little, but he was so sick of being… well… sick.

He began to entertain himself with plots of breaking himself out. Considering that he didn't have the strength to walk from one end of the room and back again, tackling the stairs up to the Gryffindor Common Room was out of the question. He just had to face the fact that he had an ongoing heart condition and the heart was pretty important to the whole staying alive business.

As if she could sense his rebellious spirit coming to life, Madam Pomfrey made her appearance. His morning greeting from the strict matron arrived in the form of breakfast and he soon found himself propped upright by the magical bed so he could eat comfortably. She offered him the morning copy of The Daily Prophet, but he refused, having had his fill of their version of the news already from the past editions that he'd been given, plus the headline didn't mention Sirius so he wasn't interested. He soldiered through his morning meal, grimly remembering the warning that his healer at St Mungo's gave him about Pomfrey's insistence on making him eat every morsel served at his bed.

With a wave of her wand, she had the curtains drawing back from the windows, bathing Harry in glorious daylight. It was wonderful to have a view of the mountains and the bright blue sky. Once he finished the breakfast that would have made Dudley envious with the fat juicy sausages and crispy hashbrown, Pomfrey went about his treatment.

"I'm going to remove your dressings and see how you are healing up," she said, her tone surprisingly soft, "take off your shirt for me if you think you can manage."

Harry's heart twinged painfully, causing him to feel breathless for a moment. He hadn't seen the damage properly, not yet confronted by how his wounds looked. With his breakfast plate and cutlery all cleared away, Pomfrey moved the table down to the end of the bed so he had plenty of space. Nervously, he unbuttoned his shirt. He stubbornly removed it, despite the uncomfortable pulling on his chest wounds and jostling of his still sore body. With his nightly dose of pain blockers waning, he could feel a lot more of the damage done. Deep bruises always grew more painful over time, forming days after the incident took place. He drew in a sharp breath as he lowered his chin down, seeing mottled purple bruises around his ribs. Those weren't from Dolohov, but from when he fell down the tiers to where the Death Eaters caught up to him. He fractured a rib or two and though those bones were fixed, the bruising remained.

Pomfrey carefully removed the gauze and bandages. When the air touched the exposed skin, Harry gasped hoarsely. His eyes screwed shut as the skin immediately stung.

"Are you going to be honest with me about how much pain you're in?" Pomfrey sternly asked him. Harry nodded, keeping his eyes shut.

"Yeah… it's stinging really badly."

Harry peeked one eye open, looking down. He knew it wouldn't be pretty, but it was still a shock.

Right over his breastbone, there was a vivid red X. It was jagged and uneven, each spike a different length. It had mostly scabbed, but from where he'd taken off his shirt, the scab had cracked and a dribble of bright red blood was leaking out. Dark bruises marred his skin, worse at his right side as he recalled hitting the edge of a step. He could smell the different ointments and salves that had been applied to help his wounds to heal, but the gashes carved into his skin were Dark in nature and the curse too powerful for such remedies to fix. Around the stark lines, his skin was still burned, the tissue partly healed.

"Sit up fully for me. I need to see the exit site as well."

Harry swallowed, leaning forwards so she could gently move him a little. He didn't realise he was injured at his back as well, but as he moved, his skin around his upper spine stung as well.

"Take this… two mouthfuls," Pomfrey ordered, pressing a small bottle into his hand. He hadn't noticed her summoning the potion from his supply. Harry looked down, recognising the mint green concoction. Eagerly, he removed the stopper and gulped at the pain blocker. "Well done." The matron took the potion from him, watching him closely. "Nice deep breaths, alright? Let's control this pain before we go any further."

She rested her hand on his shoulder, her touch surprising him as he nodded and did as she told.

"I… I've not been awake when they changed my dressings before," Harry felt the need to tell her, "is my back bad as well?"

"There's a mark where the curse passed through, but it is already healing much better than your chest," Pomfrey informed him, then she squeezed his shoulder, "you're doing most of the hard work yourself. There is little that can be done with conventional healing when it comes to Dark curses like this. We can help relieve the pain, keep you calm and comfortable, but it's your own magic that will be fixing the damage. That means plenty of rest and no exerting yourself, understand? I'll put a sticking charm on the bed if you try to leave your bed without help again."

Harry laughed weakly, very aware that she was deadly serious. She'd been furious with him the evening before when he tried to go to the bathroom on his own without the wheelchair and nearly fainted.

"I'll put some burn paste on to calm these down, but will leave the contusions to heal naturally. They look far worse than they are."

Harry tiredly nodded, just wanting the pain blocker to cut in as the burns were stinging fiercely.

"How are you feeling? Not feverish?"

Pomfrey continued to question him as she treated his injuries with her usual brisk and efficient manner. By the time she was applying a lilac paste to his chest, the pain had dimmed. Harry's head lulled forwards, his body rocking slightly as she carefully dabbed on the paste. A smart knock at the sealed doors interrupted her ministrations just as she finished winding fresh bandages around his chest. Frowning disapprovingly, she shot a firm look over at the doors. No student would dare knock on the doors unless it was an emergency.

"Sit back and I'll deal with this," Pomfrey said quietly, guiding Harry back to rest against the pillows. He had started to get sleepy, but the unwanted guest had him feeling alert, watching the matron march over to the door.

She only opened the door by a crack, keeping her voice low purposefully. Harry's stomach sank when Madame Pomfrey didn't firmly tell whoever it was to leave and reprimand them, instead reluctantly opening the door. He knew instinctively who would intrude and be given permission to do so. Of course, he should have known that he would try to force a private conversation with him the moment Harry was within his jurisdiction. Sure enough, when Pomfrey moved aside, Harry saw Albus Dumbledore.

Not ready to confront his feelings of bitter disappointment and betrayal, Harry turned his head away, anger and distrust surging up where he should feel comforted. As Dumbledore entered, shoes clacking on the tiles, his presence should instil feelings of safety. Instead, Harry felt distinctly unsafe. He felt vulnerable and disarmed.

"Poppy, I know I overstep, but if I could have a few moments alone with Harry, I would be grateful."

From how Madame Pomfrey stormed off to her office, giving an impressive door slam behind her, it was very clear what her opinions were of Dumbledore abusing his authority. Harry stared after her, his mouth open, but then his anger burned, causing him to grip his bedsheets and clench his jaw. He still pointedly didn't look at Dumbledore, not even as he heard him approach - cautiously, though, Harry noted with some satisfaction.

"I know you are very upset with me, Harry," Dumbledore chose to say as his way of greeting.

Upset?

How could such a simple word explain away Harry's feelings? The one person who Harry trusted above all others to protect him had abandoned him. He ignored him, neglected him, kept secrets from him and in the moment when he needed him the most, he wasn't there. Harry's trust, his loyalty, had never been mutual. Harry had been a fool to ever believe that he mattered to a man like Albus Dumbledore. If he truly cared, he would have fought harder for him instead of letting Fudge and Umbridge walk all over him. He would have helped.

Harry could feel himself shaking so he took a deep breath, relaxing himself against the pillows. He then forced himself to turn his head, finding Dumbledore standing a foot away from the end of his bed.

Good, he's keeping his distance.

Lifting his chin, Harry looked at Dumbledore's face, struck for a moment by how old he appeared in that moment. His face was wan, tired, more lined and hagged than Harry had ever seen him before. His white beard and hair sheened in the morning sun, glasses glinting in the light. He'd chosen a surprisingly plain set of grey velvet robes, as if he felt that it was more appropriate for the mood. He held his hands before him, solemn as he beheld Harry with what he could only describe as regret.

"I used to think you cared. I used to think you were just trying to protect me from being hurt, but for these past few months… for this past year … I know now that you never cared. How could you care when you don't… talk to me or even look at me? You are supposed to be, legally, the closest thing I have to a parent and… well… where have you been? I speak to you once, maybe twice, a year, if that."

Dumbledore turned from him then, bringing his hands up to his face. There was a sharp exhalation and his shoulders hunched. A stab of guilt plagued Harry then. As angry as he was, he didn't want to cause hurt. Harry chewed on his lip for a second to stop himself continuing his angered tirade and giving Dumbledore a chance to explain himself - finally.

After a few seconds, Dumbledore looked over his shoulder, meeting Harry's gaze.

"May I sit with you, Harry?"

In response, Harry jerked his chin over to the seat where Hermione had settled herself the day before when it was just them. He wished she was with him instead of Dumbledore. The Headmaster carefully approached, settling himself on the edge of the seat before resting his hands neatly on his lap.

"If my actions have caused you to question whether or not I care about you, then I have erred grievously in my judgement."

Harry frowned, staring past the bed to the floor, his mind suddenly flooded with the memory of the breathless Hermione who ran through the entire school with a small library in her bag. Then he thought of himself… of his mindless act, throwing himself between Hermione and a fatal curse.

"What you did made me think you were punishing me," Harry said quietly, "distancing yourself from me, not looking at me… leaving me with the Dursleys when I was… when I shouldn't have been alone."

Dumbledore sighed. "I feared that Voldemort would use the connection between the two of you-."

"So why not tell me?" Harry interrupted, his anger surging at the sigh. That impatient sound as if Harry was the one at fault. "I knew I was seeing in his mind. I knew it wasn't normal. If you just gave me a reason, if you warned me that he could use that connection, then I would have never fallen for the trick to draw me into the Ministry. All you had to do was just tell me… but you didn't trust me."

To his horror, Harry saw the distortion in his vision as tears began to form. Sharply, he turned his head, bringing an arm up as quickly as he could to swipe away the moisture under his glasses. He hadn't had the chance to put his shirt back on. His bandages were exposed for Dumbledore to see the damage - yet now he got a glimpse at the emotional damage as well. The pain rose and Harry let out a soft sob involuntarily.

Dumbledore shifted at the sound, half-rising. Harry threw his arm out to stop him from getting closer.

"Harry…"

"It's funny," Harry said, his voice not really sounding like his own where it was so tight with his pain, "I was even in this very bed when I asked you why Voldemort came after me when I was a baby. You knew why my parents died… why I had to grow up all alone… and you didn't tell me. You had me wait years before I found out and when I did, it wasn't from you, but from Lucius Malfoy."

In response to such a statement, Dumbledore had the gall to let out a soft, sad sigh. He at least gleaned that Harry was not willing to be touched or comforted. He leaned back, keeping his distance from Harry who very much didn't want him close in his personal space.

"You are justifiably angry with me. I… can see how you could easily interpret my actions the way you have, but I tell you, Harry, I swear I only have ever had your best interests at heart."

"Then you should have cared!" Harry burst out then, turning his head to look at Dumbledore, who he then saw had tears in his own blue eyes. "You should have been there for me when I needed someone… anyone!"

Pausing for a moment, Harry had a brief moment of clarity when he realised that he was shouting at one of the most powerful and brilliant wizards to ever live. The level of disrespect he was showing was more than worth a few detentions, but right then, they weren't student and teacher. Dumbledore had a duty of care, a responsibility beyond that of a teacher. And the simple truth was that he'd failed in that job.

"All I have ever wanted… is for someone to actually care about me . You… you know what my deepest desire is. You knew what I saw in the Mirror of Erised. The first time we ever spoke, you told me not to dwell on it, but I just… wanted someone to be in my corner for once. I'm an orphan with no family who gives a damn about whether I live or die… and instead of being there for me while my mum and dad couldn't… while Sirius couldn't, you let me believe I was alone."

Breathing heavily where his hands clutched at the sheet at his stomach, Harry let a single tear to make its journey down his cheek. It dripped off his chin, falling on the back of his right hand where the evidence of the abuses he had to endure alone were visible in the form of five words: 'I must not tell lies'. He lowered his gaze when Dumbledore brought his own hands up to his face. Harry hadn't meant to expose so much of his hurt feelings, but speaking them for the first time, standing up for himself, made him feel lighter than before.

As the silence stretched on, Dumbledore slowly lowered his hands. He turned his face towards Harry, revealing streaks of tears that glistened over his lined cheeks.

"I am more sorry than I can possibly express, Harry." His voice was quiet, almost fragile and uncertain. "You have been hurt too many times under my watch and now it is I who have hurt you most of all. I am an arrogant old fool who believes that he alone knows what is best for those around him, but you have shown me what all my years have failed to teach me. Wisdom does not come with age, but with experience… and you have experienced so much. Too much."

Dumbledore tentatively reached a hand out, but he only placed it on Harry's bed, not moving to touch him. Harry looked over it, seeing the faint liver spots and knobbly veins. His skin appeared greyish compared to Harry's own slightly tanned bare arm.

"When you are recovered, I will tell you everything… everything I should have told you the first time we truly spoke. You have my word, that there will be no more secrets."

Harry let out a long breath, experiencing more pangs of guilt at the heavy remorse he heard in Dumbledore's voice.

"I would like that," Harry said, hoping to relay his gratitude, "and… I accept your apology, professor."

"Albus," Dumbledore corrected softly, "I think, after dressing me down as effectively as you have done, you have earned the right to call me by my first name."

Blood rushed to Harry's face, clearing his throat a little awkwardly, "Um, I think that might be a bit too strange."

"All the same. It's about time that I treat you as the fine young wizard you are growing up to be and not a child in need of coddling. Besides, you have proven yourself to be a very adept teacher. Perhaps I should be offering you a position as a member of my staff." Dumbledore's smile grew a little more, meeting his eyes. "I may have heard about an exceptionally strange discrepancy in the Defence Against The Dark Arts OWL results. It appears a select few students had impressive results while the rest of the year barely passed."

Harry's face flamed hotter, "er… about that. I… um… I'm sorry. For the whole 'Dumbledore's Army' thing."

"Sorry that you got caught or sorry that you broke a Ministry decree?" Dumbledore asked with a teasing glint in his eye. Harry felt the tension ease from his chest as a smile of his own twitched up his mouth.

"Sorry for, um, getting you in trouble with the Ministry."

Dumbledore merely chuckled, his own spirits lifting now that they had cleared the air.

"I assure you, I enjoyed myself immensely. I have been waiting for an excuse to become a fugitive for years. One more thing to mark off the Bucket List, as I believe it's called. As for what you were doing, I did what I could to help obscure your efforts from discovery. You and your friends did the right thing."

Dumbledore then rose to his feet, turning to look down at Harry with a more sober air. He clutched his hands together, meeting Harry's gaze properly.

"I have never been more proud of you, Harry. You are every part a Potter and, I hope, I will have the opportunity to tell you about your greater family history. It is quite the story to tell."

With that, he offered Harry a respectful bow in farewell.

"I will pop in on you while you recover… if that is quite alright with you. Though I am afraid I will turn down the offer for Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans."

A small laugh escaped Harry, a little dazed how he had gone from shouting in a rage at the man one moment and sharing a joke the next. Whatever was going on, it felt… right. Harry had been right to say his piece and make Dumbledore listen to him. Something had changed between them and whatever it was, it was a good thing.

"Okay, pro- Albus," Harry cringed, "no, it doesn't feel right."

"It will, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "it will."

Sirius Black Exonerated

Falsely convicted of the murder of twelve muggles and true culprit - Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black has been cleared of all charges today by a unanimous vote. After three days of court sessions, the Wizengamot has finally come to the verdict that Sirius Black was innocent and wrongfully imprisoned in Azkaban. As we have followed the trial, we have come to learn of Sirius Black's true allegiances and incredible bravery as he maintained his convictions for his innocence. We cannot ignore the grave miscarriage of justice that led to Mr Black's detainment without trial under wartime laws that had not been lifted at the time of his arrest. Mr Black had been denied legal representation or any opportunity to make his defence.

Multiple testimonies from witnesses and confessions extracted from convicted Death Eaters all prove that Sirius Black was never a supporter of He Who Must Not Be Named. He did not betray the Potters or ever wish any harm upon their surviving son, his own Godson, Harry Potter. With Sirius Black now a free man, he is now able to carry out his duties as Mr Potter's legal guardian. We all at The Daily Prophet wish them all the best now that they can finally be a family.

Read more on Page 4…

What little space there was on the front page for the introduction text was filled with the compact print. Most of the page featured a full size photograph of a beaming Sirius Black as he swanned through the throng of reporters. He appeared to ignore the Aurors keeping the crowds back, enjoying every second of his freedom as he even waved.

Hermione found herself smiling as she read the page again. She soon busied herself with rereading the full article, for at least the fifth time, while perched in her usual spot next to Harry's bed. She spent more time in that chair for the past few days than she had anywhere else. In front of her, Harry was having his mobility observed as he paced carefully up and down the room under Madame Pomfrey's supervision. She wasn't alone. With her head tipped downwards, eyes unseeing as she used her other senses to check on Harry's progress, was Head Healer Esther McKinnon.

Harry's excitement was palpable as he followed each instruction, desperate to prove to the Head Healer that he was recovered enough to leave the Hospital Wing. With the news of Sirius being cleared, they were all rooting for Harry to get his bill of health so he could be reunited with his Godfather.

Ron grumbled something from the otherside of Harry's bed. Hermione glanced over, laughing softly as she saw him scowling at the copy of The Quibbler that he managed to get his hands on. He had muttered something about liking the puzzles at the back, but Hermione suspected that he used the guise of being seen reading the magazine to get in a certain ravenclaw's good books. He did appear to be trying to work out some sort of puzzle from the intense concentration on his face and how his tongue was stuck out, as it was whenever he chose to use the grey matter within his skull.

"That will do, Harry," Head Healer McKinnon said softly, bringing Hermione's attention back over to Harry who plodded back over to the two healers observing him. He still wore pyjamas, but the difference between how he looked back when a critical patient in St Mungo's to his present condition was startling.

"I think you are ready for the moment of truth," Esther said smilingly as she handed something out to him. Hermione gasped, putting the paper aside on the bed. It was Harry's wand. Ron had been stirred from his puzzles, blinking up in surprise.

"Are… are you sure?" Harry then asked, stirrings of doubt entering his voice. He hesitated, waiting for confirmation. Esther just smiled and nodded.

Slowly, Harry reached out for his wand. Hermione watched with baited breath as his hand wrapped around the handle being offered out to him.

"Okay, so far so good," he muttered under his breath, then he rolled his wand around in his finger, a soft smile gracing his face. His gaze lifted up, finding Hermione's. She smiled back. Her heart gaze a flutter as a tender look entered his brilliant green eyes. A look not just of joy and contentment, but one of love.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Dazzling silvery white light burst from his wand, causing a small yelp of surprise from Madame Pomfrey. Coalescing out of the bright tendrils and beams of light emerged a huge stag, shining as bright as the moon. Hermione felt all her hairs standing on end as she felt Harry's magic rush out from the power of his patronus, warm and reassuring. The stag trotted forwards, bowing his head to the Head Healer who then bowed her head back, impossibly seeing the gesture despite her blindness. Harry gazed in wonder at his own magical display, catching the stag's attention. He paced silently up to his master and Harry lifted up his hand. The magical guardian butted his ethereal nose against Harry's open hand and then, in a collapse of silvery mist, it disappeared.

The light in the room dimmed with the absence of the patronus. A hush followed and Harry lowered his arm.

"How do you feel?" Esther asked after a few moments of silence. Harry smiled once more at the question.

"Not dizzy or anything," Harry said, "it's really back? All of it?"

"Your magical core has indeed healed," the Head Healer confirmed, "I speak to you later, Harry, once I have recorded my observations with Poppy."

Madame Pomfrey then gently took Harry's elbow, guiding him back to the bed while Esther turned away and headed for the matron's office. As Harry returned to the bed, Madame Pomfrey was talking to him.

"I want you to spend tonight here, but tomorrow morning you'll be able to leave and return to your dormitory."

Harry nodded in response, earning a small patt on his shoulder from the usually austere matron. She then levelled firm looks at Hermione and Ron - much more characteristic.

"Five minutes, you two. You are already here past visitation hours," she reprimanded, tapping her pocket watch. She then turned, heading off in the direction where her official superior had gone.

Harry tossed his wand on the bed, then dropped himself down on the end, sighing. His previous good spirits seemed to have evaporated. Sensing immediately that something was wrong, Hermione got up from her seat. Harry glanced over his shoulder at her, scooting across to the left to give her space to join him.

"What's the matter?" She asked him quietly. He shook his head a little, smiling at her, though it was guarded. She rested her hand on his lightly, but then glanced to where Ron was watching, removing it before he noticed their closeness.

"I've been so desperate to be out of here, but now that it's happening… I don't know. I don't feel ready to face it all yet." Harry said softly in response. "Everyone's going to be so full-on, pelting me with questions and… it'll be worse than ever now that everyone believes me."

"Surely it's better than having everything think you're a nutjob?" Ron commented, moving to join them. There wasn't any room at Harry's other side so he awkwardly hovered. Harry scowled at Ron's lack of tact.

"It's just for a few more days, then you'll be spending the whole summer with Sirius," Hermione assured Harry, shooting Ron a frustrated look. He grimaced sheepishly in response. Harry smiled gratefully at her efforts to make him feel more positive.

"Sirius needs to get custody of me properly before I can live with him - otherwise it's technically kidnapping. I've got one last stay with the Dursleys before they take me away from there for good," Harry's smile turned wistful, almost hopeful as he looked over at the window. "I used to dream about a long-lost family member showing up at the house one day, telling my aunt and uncle that he was taking me. Now it's finally happening… I don't know what to feel."

Hermione found herself looking up briefly at Ron, seeing her own surprise reflected back at her. It was one of very few things Harry had offered up about his unhappy childhood.

"Maybe you should feel like finally you will be where you belong," she said, returning her full attention to Harry. She nudged him with her arm. "Do you think Sirius will want to find somewhere else to live? Somewhere that's not tainted by his family?"

"I don't know. We… well… we've not talked about anything like that before," Harry said a little shyly, "but… he hates that place. I know what it's like to be forced to stay somewhere you hate."

He then smiled again, his shyness more on display as he drew his shoulders up a little defensively. He didn't appear guarded anymore. Just… open and calm.

Not shy, Hermione noticed then, he's being vulnerable.

Harry was opening up to them, showing them his vulnerable side. His honest side. He had lowered his guards.

He felt safe with them.

"Well, maybe it's time to think about what sort of home you'd like," Hermione prompted.

Ron then moved to sit behind them, his weight dipping the mattress. With the three of them close, Hermione felt it then as well. That safety blanket of friendship. It was warm, reassuring and, above all, comforting.

Madame Pomfrey gave them a lot longer than five minutes. Hermione sat, half in awe, as Harry described a small, modest cottage. His picture of home had a thatched roof, ricketty floorboards and roof rafters. There was a farmhouse kitchen with wooden furniture, fresh flowers on the window sill. Harry smiled as he mentioned that they would have a cat just to annoy Sirius. Then he trailed off, staring off oddly for a moment before he looked up at Hermione. She smiled back, ignoring the tears in her eyes.

"That sounds perfect to me," she said, her voice thick.

When after at least half an hour, Madame Pomfrey and the Head Healer returned, Hermione knew they couldn't stay any longer. Ron ruffled Harry's hair with a smirk, grasping his shoulder before standing. Hermione didn't hold back as she threw her arms around him. He returned her hug. As their chests touched, Hermione felt a strong flood of warmth around her heart. It felt so much like the feeling of Harry's patronus. When he drew back from her, he blinked, his smile still oddly shy.

They both got to their feet, Harry walking with her to the doors to see them both off. Ron had already left a few steps before noticing that Hermione was loitering. She couldn't leave, not yet. Something in her heart told her to pause at the door. She felt Harry step up to her. Felt his hand touch her back as he moved close.

His lips pressed against her cheek.

"You are home to me, Hermione."