The next time she woke she was greeted by a much different scene.

There was a loud rush of conversation around her punctuated by the occasional scolding of what sounded like the Weasley Matriarch before the sound of doors swishing open then shut took a few of the voices away.

“She needs to wake up soon,” an annoyed voice grumbled. “I’m tired of being at this bloody hospital.”

She shifted; the pain was not as intense as before as she struggled to blink open her eyes. This time her mouth felt dry, her tongue almost furry as she tried to swallow a few times.

“Hermione?” Harry’s voice called.

She frowned, her head moving on the pillow before her eyes blinked open into the bright light coming through a window she didn’t notice before.

“Harry?” she asked in a croaky voice, slightly confused.

It took her a moment to remember, dazed as she was, why she was in a hospital bed.

Harry smiled, his glasses slightly askew and his green eyes bright as he reached for a small table beside her bed and grabbed a cup. He shifted closer, positioning the straw at her mouth and she took a deep drink of cool water.

“Better?” he asked and smiled wider when she nodded. “How you feeling?”

“Strange…” she said after a moment, her head feeling fuzzy.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” a rougher voice said from further away. “They’ve got you on ten different potions a day. Remember earlier when she was talking about Draco of all people?”

She turned to see a bright red head of hair leaning against the window. Ron had his arms crossed, his wand tapping nervously against his shoulder. Her brows pulled together.

“What?” she said, her voice still cracking a bit.

Harry shook his head, bringing the cup to her lips again.

“Don’t worry about it, you just were mumbling in your sleep is all. Having a nightmare, it seemed like.”

Hermione shook her head a little, she couldn’t remember any of her dreams.

“You okay?” she asked after a moment, looking Harry over.

He looked fine, though a little pale and wan. There were dark, purplish circles under his eyes and whenever he wasn’t speaking, his face appeared to take on a hollow, haunted look.

“Sirius is gone…” he said softly, turning away from her to place the cup on the table.

“Oh Harry…” she reached for him, trying to stifle a wince as she pulled on his arm until he turned back to her.

Bright tears glittered in his eyes and there was a faint splotch of red appearing on his cheeks and neck. A muscle worked in his jaw as she pulled him closer until she could wrap her arms around him.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. At her words Harry’s arms wrapped around her and his face pressed into her neck. He gave a deep, rattling breath before she felt his tears beginning to collect on her skin. “I’m so, so sorry Harry.”

Her fingers brushed through his unruly hair, her other hand gently circling his back as he cried. Flicking her eyes to Ron, she saw him shift uncomfortably on the other side of the room, his eyes darting back and forth between them and the ground as if he wanted it to swallow him whole. There were strange scars dotting his neck and arms from the brain creature he’d summoned in the Ministry and from the way he’d rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, it looked like he was wearing them as a badge of honor.

After a long moment Harry sniffed loudly and pulled away.

“Not going to ask how I am?” Ron huffed.

Hermione grimaced slightly as she resettled on the bed.

“How are you, Ron?” she asked slightly mechanically.

He grumbled, pushing himself off the wall and striding over to her. Hermione noted that he looked strangely agitated, as if seeing her comforting Harry had made him upset.

“The suckers on that brain thing still kind of burn,” he complained, completely oblivious to the other two’s suffering. “It’s been annoying dealing with the paste mum has to put on it.”

Hermione hummed, trying not to lose her temper.

“That sounds… difficult,” she said after a moment, reaching to unsuccessfully smooth Harry’s hair.

Ron’s eyes flashed.

“Yeah, it has been,” he said rather forcefully.

She turned back to Harry.

“Are you staying at the Burrow now?”

He shook his head while Ron shuffled his feet in impatience at being ignored.

“No, Dumbledore says I have to go back to the Dursleys, at least for a little bit.”

Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Whatever for?”

He shrugged. “Just said he has his reasons. ”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek thinking it was cruel of the headmaster to force Harry back with his awful Aunt and Uncle after he’d just lost the closest thing to a father he’d ever known. Using the excuse that he “had his reasons” didn’t seem like a reason at all and she felt a surge of anger on behalf of her friend.

How was it that Dumbledore was seen as the pinnacle of good when he continually acted against Harry’s – and other’s – best interests?

A sandy haired nurse strode into the room then in crisp mint green robes with a small golden clipboard in her hand.

“Ah, Miss Granger, lovely to see you awake,” the healer said in a no-nonsense voice. “I’m Healer Brown, I’ve been overseeing your care while you’ve been staying with us.”

“Can she go home yet?” Ron asked brusquely.

Healer Brown’s face pinched with annoyance as she turned to Ron.

“As I said before, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger here will require a longer term stay than you – regardless of how harrowing your injuries must have been.” She turned back to Hermione. “How are you feeling, dear?”

The tips of Ron’s ears turned pink at the dismissal, obviously annoyed at the attention Hermione was getting while she described her mild confusion, dry mouth, and overall achiness.

“Ah yes, the confusion should pass after today once we no longer have to give you the nerve repairing potion,” the healer said kindly. “Excuse me, Mr. Potter, I just need to check her vitals.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Harry said, hopping up from her bedside to allow the healer to cast an incantation to check Hermione’s vitals.

“In fact, I believe it is time for Miss Granger to rest without visitors for the time being. Her parents should be arriving very soon to check in on her and it is best they have some privacy.”

Healer Brown gave her a small wink before completing the complex incantations above her and beginning to shepherd the boys from the room.

Before he could get too far, Harry doubled back to grab Hermione’s hand.

“Thank you, Hermione,” he said in a quiet but fervent voice.

“For what, Harry?” she asked, confusion swirling again through her mind like a thick fog.

“For believing in me, for going with me to the Ministry. For fighting against You-Know-Who with me.” He leant forward, kissing her cheek lightly. “For being my best friend.”

Guilt ripped through her chest, an agony worse than the cruciatus curse or even the strange purple fire had been. Harry gave her a lopsided smile at the tears that escaped from her eyes, assuming they were due to his thanks.

At the door Ron sighed dramatically.

“See you soon, Mione,” he said impatiently.

She gave Harry a small squeeze then Ron a half-hearted wave.

Then the boys were gone and all Hermione could ask herself was:

What have I done?