A/N - Ok, so I may have, er, enjoyed myself a little too much last night. Let's just say it's a bad idea to drink for lightweight friends (coughgirlscough) when playing Beirut. Unfortunately, there was no Hermione to whip up a restorative potion. I'd have been too busy snogging her at midnight anyway ;)
Oh, yeah... always destroy or otherwise remove cameras from the premises before you get potted. That's my word of wisdom for the day. Learn from my mistakes. Fortunately, I wrote some of this chapter before said condition occurred. I'm not really all that happy with the beginning, but I think it really picks up as it goes along. Hope you enjoy it!
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Hermione had a lot on her mind the next week or so. Healer Swift was as good as her word and Harry was making an extremely quick recovery. He was still on half a dozen different potions that he had to take several times a day, though.
Harry, thought Hermione as she traversed the halls to his room. Harry, Harry, Harry. What am I to do with you?
Some days he was better, some days he slipped back down into apathy or downright self-loathing. It hadn't taken her long to figure out how much Harry hated himself, but she also discovered that telling him he wasn't a bad person didn't have any effect whatsoever. Which was really too bad, Hermione reflected, because she had an intense desire to shake him until he came back to his senses or his teeth rattled, whichever came first. Resisting that temptation, Hermione instead drew up a far more clever plan.
The plan was really quite simple; at the root of it she treated Harry as if he was a wary animal. First you put out some food for it, then you feed it from your hand. Then you pat it while you feed, and eventually you gain its trust. With Harry, her ultimate plan was to continually put him into situations where his many good qualities would naturally come out. Until he recovered enough to go out, though, she simply chattered on and on about light, frivolous subjects that couldn't possibly be turned into something darker. Eventually, Harry would get used to her presence again.
Yesterday had been a particularly good day; he no longer needed two of the potions and he was in the highest spirits she had yet seen, insisting that yet another scar had disappeared from his arm. She honestly had no idea how he could tell.
It was a good thing that he was feeling well yesterday, too, because an unforeseen complication had cropped up. Hermione's mind drifted for a moment as the scene came back.
"Oi! Hermione!" a voice bellowed behind her. She turned to find Ron stalking down the third floor corridor, a Healer trainee hopelessly trying to drag him back.
"You can't come in here, sir!" the light-haired little man was saying as he was pulled along.
"It's ok, Richard," Hermione said. "I know this buffoon."
"Oh... ok."
"Where've you been?" Ron demanded, not even acknowledging the other man's departure. "I've been trying to contact you for days, but you're never at your flat and you haven't responded to any of the calls I put in here."
"I've just been really busy, Ron. What's the big deal?"
"Busy?" he replied in disbelief. "Busy? Hermione, you came bursting into my house in tears, then you go incommunicado for a week! I was worried about you!"
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh."
"I'm sorry, Ron! I just wasn't thinking."
Ron drew a deep breath. "It's ok, Hermione. Just- let me know what's going on, will ya? I was scared."
A hot flush of shame ran through Hermione. She had completely forgotten about Ron and it was a very great admission for Ron to tell her that he had been scared.
"Ron, I'm really sorry. I understand; I would have been furious if the situation was reversed."
"It's ok," Ron said dismissively. "Now that I know you're ok. So what's been going on? Is is that patient?"
"Yes."
"Is he? she? getting better?"
"Yeah, I think so-"
At that very moment, Harry himself re-emerged from the bathroom and Hermione's heart leaped into her throat.
"Hermione, I'm ready for-" he stopped short upon seeing Ron, a blank expression on his face.
"Oho, who's this?" egged Ron. "Now I know what happened. You went off and eloped on us!"
"Don't be stupid, Ron!" snapped Hermione. "This is one of my patients. I was about to take him outside to get some fresh air."
Ron rolled his eyes at her. "Oh, so that's what you're calling it these days?"
"Ron!" fumed Hermione, though her heart rate settled down a bit as Ron obviously didn't recognize Harry.
Ron chuckled and held out his hand. "Hey, mate. I'm Ron. Ron Weasley."
"I'm No One," Harry said, taking his hand.
"No One? You have to be some- blimey, what happened to your arm!"
Harry glanced down.
"Cut myself shaving."
"That's some cut! What were you using, a chainsaw? Is that why you're here?"
"One of the reasons," Harry replied dryly.
"Ron," Hermione broke in, "I'm supposed to be taking Ha- No One for a walk."
"Woof, woof," Harry barked quickly to cover up the lapse. It worked well as Ron cottoned on immediately.
"Wow, she's got you trained pretty good, eh?" Ron said with a wink. "Where's your collar?"
Hermione glared at the smirking men and for a moment it was eerily reminiscent of their time spend together at Hogwarts. The moment was broken as Hermione's face underwent a remarkable transformation. Her expression turned angelic and her voice nearly dripped honey as she said, "If you're a really good boy, No One, you'll get another special treat when we get back. I think we might have one biscuit left."
Harry's smirk melted off his face and Ron guffawed.
"Now, would you like to play some more?" Hermione asked sweetly.
"I think she's got you there, mate," Ron wheezed.
"And you," Hermione said ominously to Ron. "You're not off the hook yet either, mister. I'll deal with you later. Come on, No One, let's go."
Taking a firm hold of Harry's arm, Hermione led him away. They hadn't managed ten steps when heavy footsteps sound behind them and they heard Ron shout.
"Wait! I don't have much going on right now; I'll walk with you."
"No." Hermione said at the same time Harry responded, "Sure." She gave Harry a swift look.
"I think it would be nice to have some company," Harry said levelly.
"Go ahead, now. Listen to him, Hermione," Ron urged.
"Oh, alright," capitulated Hermione. "But don't put any undue stress on my patient!"
"Wouldn't dream of it. Where are we going?"
"Well," Hermione said slowly, "I thought we'd go to Hogwarts. We can apparate to Hogsmeade, then walk around the grounds a bit."
"That sounds great! Have you been there, No One?"
"Yeah..." Harry replied. "I've been there once or twice."
"Oh, then we'll have to show you all around," Ron said happily. None of them noticed Swift standing at the other end of the hall behind them. She was watching them and wearing a small smile.
They ended up apparating to Hogsmeade, with Hermione bringing both Harry ("You're too sick yet") and Ron ("You never were very good at apparation") along with Side-By-Apparation. Within minutes they were strolling around the Hogwarts grounds. Classes were out for the summer, so there was very little activity. They spent a good fifteen minutes walking around the lake as Ron entertained them with old school stories, which Harry already knew.
"Well, that was nice," Hermione said finally as they approached Hogsmeade again. "No One, let me take a look at you... Yes, you do appear to be benefiting from the physical activity."
"Yeah, mate," Ron chipped in. "You look pretty healthy to me. How about this: my girlfriend Charlotte and I and some of our friends all go out for drinks on Friday nights. Why don't you come along this Friday?"
"Ron, No One is sick! He really isn't up to gallivanting off with you and your drunken friends!"
"And bring Hermione here," Ron overrode her. "She needs to get out more, as you can tell."
Harry spread his hands and shrugged, plainly saying it was out of his hands.
Hermione focused back on the present and room number fourteen. Putting on the cheeriest expression she could muster, she opened the door and stepped in.
* * *
Harry looked up as Hermione came in. He was fully dressed and had been pacing for a solid half hour. Yesterday he had felt quite good, but today was taking a turn for the worse.
I want my instruments, he thought. I think I'd be ok if I could play a little bit.
"Hi, sleepy head!" Hermione greeted brightly.
"Hermione, I want to go back to my place," Harry said without preamble.
"What?" Hermione asked, smile sliding off her face.
"I want to go to my place."
"Harry, you promised!" she accused shrilly. "You promised you'd stay until you were recovered!"
"I know," Harry said with a desperate patience. "There's just some stuff there I want to get. Please?"
Hermione flushed.
"Oh... I'm sorry," she apologized. "I shouldn't have jumped down your throat."
"Whatever. It's ok. Can we please go?"
She stood there, foot tapping and peering up at him. Harry hadn't ever realized what a tiny little thing she was.
"Oh, what do you need to go back to that horrible place for? I'm not letting you back in there; it's not good for you."
"Please, Hermione? There are some good things, really. I just want to get them."
"Give me one good reason," Hermione challenged.
"My instruments are there," Harry said quietly. "And I can't summon them. The whole building is warded against that sort of thing. You'd have better luck apparating inside Hogwarts."
"I suppose that's a good reason," Hermione admitted grudgingly; her dreams were still haunted by the one performance she had heard Harry give. "I'll go get them for you. You just stay here."
"NO!" Harry shouted in alarm.
"That's my final word as your Healer, Harry."
"No, I didn't mean it like that. You can't go there alone, Hermione, it's too dangerous! If you tried to get in without me there..."
Hermione frowned. Harry looked genuinely worried.
"Why? What did you do?"
"You don't want to know, Hermione. Trust me, you don't want to know."
Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully. Harry noticed these things; he had seen her do it so many times.
"I have to get permission from Healer Swift," she said finally.
"Will she let me go?"
"I doubt it," Hermione replied reluctantly, not meeting his eyes.
"Hermione, please," pleaded Harry. "I need to play!"
Harry was getting desperate; his eyes flickered over to the blade that Hermione had nearly impaled him with the day they arrived at St. Mungo's. Hermione followed his gaze and then went very still. Harry could almost see her thoughts churning.
"Come on," she said abruptly, taking his hand and leading him out of the room, all the while chuntering under her breath.
"can't believe I'm doing this... going to get in so much trouble... can't stand that horrid place..."
Harry barely heard her.
Finally, they reached the designated disapparation area. Without waiting for her, Harry pulled Hermione closer and disapparated.
They re-appeared with a pop in Mud Scrapper Lane. It had not been a comfortable apparation, however, and they sprawled forward, Hermione landing on top of Harry.
"Hermione?" Harry said, shifting her slightly. "Are you ok?"'
Hermione lifted her head slowly off his chest and brushed a tendril of bushy brown hair back behind an ear. She started at him intently, nose inches from his own.
"Are you ok, Harry?" she said in a deathly quiet voice.
"Because if you are," she continued, voice rising, "I'm going to kill you!"
"You're ok," Harry replied, scrambling to his feet and pulling Hermione up with him.
Ignoring her death gaze fixed on his back, Harry strode over to the rapidly expanding 46 Mud Scrapper Lane. Hermione uttered a very unladylike oath.
"Hermione," Harry said without turning around, "you'd scrub Ron's mouth out with your wand if you heard him say that."
She growled and shoved him through the door.
"You're just lucky I like you, Potter."
Inside was as dark and gloomy as before. Harry conjured another of those eerie globes of light and affixed it to the ceiling. He looked around slowly and shivered.
"You wanted to know what I did?"
"What?"
"When I told you you couldn't come here alone. Look," Harry pointed. Above the entrance a head was mounted. A house elf's head. An aura of power and menace was radiating from it.
"HARRY!" screamed Hermione. "That's- that's Kreacher! HOW COULD YOU DO SUCH A THING? AND THAT CURSE ON IT!!"
Harry saw it coming, but made no attempt to duck or block the full-armed slap Hermione delivered. It left a red welt on the left side of his face and Hermione rubbing her stinging head. She abandoned it and used the other arm to deliver another stinging blow. Harry now sported matching red cheeks, but hadn't so much as flinched.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into bringing us here!"
Another thundering blow left Harry staggering slightly and Hermione clutching a hand, tears in her eyes.
"You're going to hurt yourself, little witch," Harry said quietly, taking one of her hands in his. He massaged it briefly and Hermione felt a warmness spread through it. He did the same to the other, easily quelling her furious attempt to break free. Only then did she realize that her hands no longer hurt.
"Harry, how did you do that?" she asked, frowning at her hands. "And I'm still very upset with you!"
"I watched you Healing and picked up a few things. And you should be upset with me. You could never punish me enough for everything I've done."
* * *
Hermione felt her anger and shock fading away to an aching sadness. Harry just stood there, patiently watching her with flaming cheeks. He wasn't afraid of her being disappointed in him. He expected her to despise him. To be disgusted by him. Feeding into that wouldn't help anything. And in a sudden flash of insight, she understood.
Her Harry never could have done these things. But this Harry could, because he hated himself. Because he considered himself tainted, evil. What were a few more murders? Especially if, by killing Death Eaters, he could be rationalize to himself that he was protecting innocent people.
"He killed Sirius," Harry said bitterly, glancing at Kreacher's head.
She didn't know exactly why she did what she did next except that it just felt like the exact right thing to do. Standing on her tiptoes, she grabbed Harry by the ears and pulled his face down to kiss him on the cheek.
"I understand, Harry," she said, hugging him so tightly he grunted.
I want my Harry back. And I'm going to get him, because I'm Hermione Granger and I never lose.
"Come on, let's go get your stuff," she said briskly, releasing him and acting like nothing had happened. "I imagine it's in this other room here?"
"Yeah," Harry said behind her. He hadn't moved.
"Well, come on silly," Hermione teased. "You're the one who made such a big fuss about this in the first place."
"Another one just disappeared," he said in a distracted voice. "I know it did. I felt it."
A sudden chill ran down Hermione's spine. Something almost clicked in her mind, but then it was gone.
"Another what?"
"Another scar. Look," Harry held out his arm. She turned and examined it. This was the third one Harry claimed had disappeared. And... well, could he be right? The arm was still mutilated, but it did look slightly less scarred.
"I think you're right," Hermione said slowly.
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know, Harry. I just don't know."
They stood there bemused for several minutes before Hermione shook herself.
"Come on, let's get your stuff."
"Right," Harry said. "Only... I don't think I need it right this instant anymore. I think I'm ok."
"What?! After all that fuss?"
"But I still want it," Harry hurried to conclude.
"You better!" Hermione strode towards the other door.
"Wait..." she stopped. "This one isn't warded is it?"
"No, it's not," Harry assured her, pushing past and opening the door. Hermione stepped in and gasped.
This room was also a mess, but of a very different kind. Two large worktables lined the sides and a smaller table full of tools the far wall. Lying all around were projects in various states of completion; several instruments, small pieces of furniture, carved figures, all made of wood. Harry's personal set of instruments were stacked neatly in the corner.
"Harry, did you make all this?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice.
"Yeah..." Harry wandered around, picking up and putting down various pieces. "Sometimes it would help, creating things, when I... was in a bad place."
He picked up something small from the far end of the left worktable and turned it around in his hands; Hermione couldn't make out what it was.
"Sometimes it wasn't enough, though," Harry continued, looking down at his arm. Hermione stood extremely still; this was the first time Harry had opened up to her.
"Here," Harry strode over and pressed the the small, hard object into her hand, closing her fingers over it. "I made this for you a couple years ago. I was thinking about you..."
He hurried away to a large trunk with seven locks before Hermione could look at the object. Hesitantly, she raised her hand and opened it. Resting on her palm was a tiny perfect carving of an otter. The details had been cunningly brought out with meticulously applied stains of different color.
"Oh... Oh..."
"D'you like it?" Harry asked nervously.
"Oh, Harry. It's the most exquisite thing I've ever seen. And... well, my Patronus is an otter," she finished softly.
"Yes... I remembered."
"Harry Potter... you make me cry an awful lot," Hermione said, smiling through her tears. "You have no idea how much this means to me."
"Please don't cry, Hermione," Harry pleaded. "I don't want to make you cry."
"It's ok, you silly boy," Hermione laughed.
"That otter saved me a great many scars," Harry said quietly. "It took me longer to make that than all the rest combined."
More tears ran down Hermione's face, but she ignored them. Pulling out her want, she conjured a clear, indestructible container and carefully stowed the otter inside it.
"Let's get this stuff packed up," she said, tucking the container inside her robes. "We might have to make several trips. We can store most of it at my place."
"Oh, I think we can do it in one," Harry said, opening the chest and motioning her over. She walked over and looked in to see a normal looking trunk.
"Harry, I don't think that's going to do it."
He winked and shut the trunk, then put a different key in the second lock and opened it back up. A different looking interior greeted them. Harry cycled through all seven, the seventh opening into a large, underground sort of room.
"Where did you get this?" Hermione asked in amazement.
"It was Professor Moody's," Harry said solemnly. "I filched it after- after I killed Voldemort. Moody was killed in the battle and I wasn't feeling very scrupulous. He took seven Death Eaters with him."
"Oh, right... well, stand back, Harry."
He looked at her questioningly as she raised her wand, then hurriedly stepped back as all sorts of objects flew over and started arranging themselves neatly in the trunk.
"Right, that's it. Let's go, Harry. We don't need to be here anymore."
"Hang on..." Harry looked around. "Ah..." He spied a grubby little sack in the corner and picked it up. Peering in, he sighed.
"Here, Hermione," he said, handing it over. "It isn't much, but it covers some of what I owe you."
Puzzled, Hermione looked inside. There were a handful of Galleons, a few Sickles, and a heap of Knuts.
"Oh, no, Harry," she said, handing it back. "I have enough."
"Please take it," Harry said, refusing to accept it back. "It's all I have."
"But- what happened to all the gold in your vault? You had a small fortune! And this stuff would sell for even more!" She motioned at the trunk.
Harry looked away, and Hermione had a sudden flashback. A white-haired man was kneeling besides a ragged little boy, pressing a Galleon into his hand.
"Oh... I think I know. Harry, how can you call yourself a bad person?"
Harry still wouldn't meet Hermione's gaze.
"You can't buy your way into Heaven, Hermione," he said simply. She sighed and tapped the trunk with her wand and it floated out behind them.
"Wait," Harry said suddenly. He turned to the other door and raised a hand. Inside, a dull roaring sound could be heard. A minute later, it faded.
Hermione edged forward and opened the door. Inside, a large quantity of dust lay on the floor.
"That's better, I think," said Harry. "Oh, wait, one more thing..."
Another wave and Kreacher's head crumbled into dust as well. Harry staggered and had to lean against the wall for support.
"Harry, you've overtaxing yourself!" Hermione cried, rushing over.
"I'm ok," he assured her. "It was necessary."
"Come on, we're going back."
With that, Hermione pulled him outside, gripped his hand tightly and disapparated back to St. Mungo's.
"Quick, follow me," Hermione whispered as they apparated. She led Harry through a warren of back corridors and halls. She peeked around every corner first and they managed to get back to Harry's room unseen.
"Thanks a lot, Hermione," Harry said when he was re-situated in his room, the trunk now in the corner.
"I think," Hermione replied firmly, "that you owe me a song. A lot of songs. As a matter of fact, just keep playing until I tell you to stop."
Harry smiled slightly, the first time Hermione had seen him do so in five years.
"Do you listen to any Muggle music, Hermione?" he asked, summoning his instruments with a wave of his wand.
"No, can't say that I do."
"I listened to a great deal while I was away. I find that it's much better than wizard music."
Harry bent over his guitar, the other instruments came into motion, and he began to play:
'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life
Try to make ends meet
You're a slave to money then you die
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down
You know the one that takes you to the places
where all the veins meet yeah,
No change, I can change
I can change, I can change
But I'm here in my mold
I am here in my mold
But I'm a million different people
from one day to the next
I can't change my mold
No, no, no, no, no
Well I never pray
But tonight I'm on my knees yeah
I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me, yeah
I let the melody shine, let it cleanse my mind, I feel free now
But the airways are clean and there's nobody singing to me now
No change, I can change
I can change, I can change
But I'm here in my mold
I am here in my mold
And I'm a million different people
from one day to the next
I can't change my mold
No, no, no, no, no
I can't change
I can't change...
.........
As Harry played, the door to his room opened unnoticed. Healer Swift stood there, humming contentedly. Behind her, more people were gathered around the door. One healer waved his wand and the music was magically amplified to fill the whole building. People too sick to leave their beds cried as they felt the anguish in Harry's songs, but felt as if a burden had been lifted from them as Harry slowly progressed towards a final ending song of hope.
Hermione sat leaning forward, oblivious to all else, legs crossed, elbows resting on thighs, chin in hands and eyes fixed on Harry's face.
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