Disclaimer: See Part 1
From My Soul
Part 3
"So, any ideas?"
Ron was the first one to break the short silence that had fallen as they all stared at the locket in Harry's hand.
He looked at Harry. Harry looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back at Harry.
Harry shook his head. "No," he confessed rather glumly.
"I'm going to go look through the little library I remember seeing when we were last here," Hermione volunteered.
Ron made a sarcastic noise. "Oh of course, because what we really need is to see what kind of reading material produces nutters like Kreacher and Sirius's barking-mad mum."
"Just because you seem to think it'll kill you to crack open a book sometime," she snapped. "Don't be an idiot; it's likely that they'll have books on darker magic than what there is in Hogwarts."
"And you can never do anything without reading a book first," Ron shot back.
Hermione flushed angrily, her mouth opening to respond but Harry stepped in before she could.
"Oh just shut up!" he exclaimed, startling even himself with the vehemence of his exclamation. "You're not helping! And Ron, Hermione's right; we need to research since we know so little. I'm going to- I don't know- see if I can reducto the locket or something."
Hermione looked stricken as she looked at Harry but all she said was, "I'll go research," before she left the room, not looking at Ron.
Ron was still flushed as he looked from the door through which Hermione had vanished and then at Harry. "I'll-er- help you, mate," he said rather hesitantly.
"Yeah, thanks," Harry said, his anger gone as suddenly as it had flared. Ron and Hermione had always bickered. It was just the way their friendship (their more-than-friendship?) worked. And he needed both of them too much to push them away now.
He wanted to apologize for yelling, for turning on Ron like he had, but he wasn't sure what he could say and finally gave up as he left Sirius's room for one of the unused and mostly empty rooms to see if he could come up with some way to destroy the locket.
~*~*~
Hermione sniffed and blinked back half-angry, half-hurt tears as she scanned the titles of the small collection of books in one of the back-rooms.
She didn't know why Ron's little sarcastic remarks about her reading still bothered her so much, why she still responded so angrily. It wasn't as if they were anything new; he'd been laughing at her bookworm habits as long as she'd known him. It just-hurt. And it bothered her. They weren't dating-not officially as such. He hadn't said anything and neither had she-and he'd only kissed her, hesitantly, a few times, and they'd both been embarrassed afterwards. Things had just become awkward between them, tension arising whenever they were alone together.
She welcomed the distraction of the search for the horcruxes, the feeling that she was needed, that this was something she could do. She might not know much about horcruxes but it was magical; it involved spells and research and all those things she knew.
This-whatever this was between her and Ron-she didn't know so well.
She didn't know why she found it so- disappointing- that Ron still didn't accept her love of books; that he still didn't even try to understand all that you could learn from books.
He fancied her (didn't he?); why didn't he understand her?
And what did it mean that she was always either furious with Ron, or hurt because of something he did or said, or just plain uncomfortable around him?
She didn't know what had happened to her; she'd always prided herself on being the rational one, the clever one-but then this last year, she had barely even recognized herself when she was around Ron. He'd just made her so- so angry that she'd retaliated instinctively. And it had hurt her pride that Ron, whom she'd always rather known fancied her, would snog Lavender…
But she didn't like the person she turned into around Ron, because of Ron. She didn't like that she was always angry and mean- reacting to the hurt and the confusion she felt and taking it out on the people around her.
She wanted-she wanted things to be simple again. When she, Ron, and Harry were just best friends. She wanted-wanted to like herself again. Wanted to stop feeling this way whenever she was with Ron.
And for the first time, she wondered if, maybe, this was a sign that she and Ron weren't meant to be more than friends…
After all, hadn't this started because she thought she fancied Ron and she'd been upset that he'd chosen Lavender over her?
She shook her head to clear it, wiping away her tears with a determined hand. She'd wasted enough time; she needed to get to work.
Harry needed her and she would not let him down. She wouldn't-not again, not like she'd done this past year by not believing him about Malfoy. Harry needed her-and at that moment, that was more important than anything else.
~*~*~
He hadn't thought it was possible but the house was even more depressing at night, now that it was empty except for just the three of them.
Around him the house made odd, creaking sort of noises as it settled and he shivered slightly, though not from cold, as he walked aimlessly around.
He'd told Ron and Hermione to go to sleep while he stayed up, to keep watch. He didn't think anything would happen-at least not tonight. No one knew- yet- where they were, but he didn't want to take any chances.
Besides, he wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep anyway, tired as he was.
He kept thinking of leaving the Burrow, of the last look Ginny had given him-and wondering why it was that his promise to Dumbledore hadn't been the only thing keeping him from confiding in her. Dumbledore hadn't said anything about keeping the Prophecy secret and he hadn't wanted to tell Ginny about that either. Even if it didn't mean all that much-even if he'd still want to destroy Voldemort if no Prophecy had been written-he hadn't felt comfortable telling Ginny. And what did that mean? He liked Ginny, fancied her-didn't he? He'd meant what he said when he told her he would hate himself if anything happened to her because she was with him… And yet…
He wondered- gloomily- if the reason he and Ginny couldn't be together, the reason the memory of those weeks with her at Hogwarts felt like something that had happened to another person, was because he'd been happy in those weeks-and maybe he just wasn't meant to be happy…
He sighed, wandering down to the kitchen to get a cup of water.
He and Ron had realized in the late afternoon- after hours of trying every destructive or remotely destructive charm or hex or spell they could think of to destroy the locket (an endeavor that had, predictably, ensured that none of the few items in the unused room they'd chosen, remained in one piece while the locket remained unharmed)- that they were hungry-and that in his impatience, it hadn't occurred to Harry to get any food. He'd just been resigning himself to having to go find some sort of store or something (since he didn't have much confidence in his ability to just conjure up food like Mrs. Weasley was able to do) when Hermione had walked into the kitchen, with one of the two bags she'd had with her that morning. He'd noticed it that morning but then Ginny and everything else had distracted him and he'd forgotten to wonder why she needed more than one bag to fit her things in, given that she was much better at shrinking things to fit and packing them neatly into a small space than he and Ron were. The extra bag, they'd found, contained food from the Burrow's kitchen-to Ron's absolute delight (he'd looked ready to kiss Hermione and had declared, "I love you," in his first burst of exuberance at which she'd smiled slightly, indulgently almost, and just said, "Go on and eat.") So they'd eaten after all, simply, basically bread and cheese and some ham, but neither of them had complained. Harry had grinned at her as they ate and mouthed, "Thanks," and she'd smiled back, flushing a little.
He smiled to himself as he looked at Hermione's bag, still out on the table. Thank goodness for Hermione and her foresight; he knew, now, that was why he and Ron had come down to find her all ready and waiting for them in the kitchen of the Burrow; she'd come down early to pack enough food for the three of them, for at least a few days.
He threw himself into a chair, his smile fading as his thoughts returned-again-to the sodding, seemingly indestructible locket.
He and Ron had basically wasted a day in blasting at it with a Reductor curse (or ten, to be honest), to Banishing it across the room to smash into the opposite wall, to the Shattering Curse, to the Crushing Hex, to conjuring up a fire and trying to simply melt the gold of the locket down.
And he'd finally realized just how powerful a magical object a horcrux was when the gold didn't do anything other than become warmer than it had originally been.
In the end, he'd been reduced, more out of frustration than anything else, to simply yelling, "Accio soul!" at the locket-as if simply calling Voldemort's soul out of the locket would be enough. As he'd rather expected, nothing had happened. He had made a mental note not to mention that little failure to Hermione as he could already hear her voice in his head saying that a soul was hardly likely to be one of those things one could simply summon-and certainly not when it had been sealed into a magical object as powerful as a horcrux.
All in all, the day had been a rather spectacular failure, as far as figuring out how to destroy the horcrux.
Hermione had said she hadn't found anything yet-although she did say that she wasn't done skimming through all the books she'd found. Or at least she hadn't been at dinner. She'd gone back to researching and maybe had found something more out then. But he couldn't help feeling a pessimistic certainty that she wouldn't. How likely was it that the Blacks would have a manual on how to destroy a horcrux just lying around? Especially given that it was such an obscure bit of Dark Magic anyway.
And they were basically back to where they'd started.
He sighed and then tensed, automatically reaching for his wand, as he heard a small noise outside the kitchen.
He stood, walking silently and quickly over to the door and opening it-to see Hermione, who started back with a small cry, as the door opened in her face and she was confronted with his wand pointed at her.
He lowered his wand. "Hermione, I nearly hexed you!" He paused and then added, "I thought you were sleeping," as he stepped back, returning to his chair.
She took the chair beside his and sat down. "I couldn't sleep, so I got up again and finished going through the books."
He glanced automatically at the clock on the wall to see that it was just after 2 in the morning; it had taken her 3 hours to go through the 4 books she'd said she still needed to read when he'd told her and Ron to go to sleep. He felt a flicker of amazement for how quickly she could skim through books and-he knew from experience-still not miss pertinent information.
"Did you find anything else out?"
She sighed a little, making a wry face. "That Sirius was right to hate his family, for one thing. The collection of books they have is enough to make me dislike them. A whole lot on things like Muggle-baiting and a good number on Dark magic. There really isn't anything on horcruxes, though. There was one book called, 'So You Want to Be Immortal' that I thought might be of some use-and it, at least, mentioned horcruxes-but nothing that we didn't already know. That they're created from dividing your soul through an act of ultimate evil. It did say, though, that hardly anyone knows how to create a horcrux-it's not taught in any of the wizarding schools in Europe or America, obviously, not even in Durmstrang-and even if they did, most witches and wizards aren't powerful enough to create one."
His shoulders slumped slightly. "Oh," he said, trying and failing to hide his disappointment.
She paused and then continued, more slowly, "I was just thinking. Harry, a horcrux seems to be something like a symbol of ultimate evil; it stands to reason that destroying a horcrux can only be done by someone who is, well, the opposite of that. The only people we know of who have destroyed a horcrux are you and Dumbledore. I think-just from what Sirius said of his brother and what we can sort of guess from what the rest of the family seems to have been like-that Regulus Black didn't succeed in actually destroying the horcrux-maybe he was even killed before he could; all he could do was hide it here, which he did. I think one of the things we need to destroy a Horcrux, no matter what the ultimate spell is, is someone who is pure of soul. It's like what Dumbledore called the power of a soul that is whole and untarnished. So at least we know we have that; we have you. And that's something, isn't it?"
"I--" he started and then stopped, his throat closing. What could he say? Thank you? It didn't seem appropriate; she hadn't said what she had as a compliment; it had only been, for her, a simple statement. She thought he was pure of soul. Why hearing her say something like that meant so much- affected him so much-why he felt a lump of half-embarrassed emotion in his throat-he didn't know. All he knew was that hearing her say that meant something.
He wished he knew what it was about him that first Dumbledore and now Hermione called his purity of soul-what it was about him that made them believe in him. But he didn't. He didn't understand what it was about him that Dumbledore-Dumbledore, who was such a powerful wizard and so wise-could say, as he had, "I am not worried, Harry. I am with you."
He felt a familiar surge of grief and looked away from Hermione, blinking rapidly. He would not cry. He would not cry. He would not cry…
He cleared his throat, changing the subject automatically. "What's going on between you and Ron?" he asked, only half-hoping for a real answer.
She stiffened a little and then sighed. "I- I don't know," she answered honestly.
He frowned slightly as he looked at her. "You don't know?" he repeated blankly.
She made a vague motion with one hand. "Things are just-strange-between us now. I don't know; I thought I fancied him; I do care about him but I don't know if that's enough or if I care about him the right way, or- or anything… I just- I just don't like the person I turn into when I'm around him these days. I don't like feeling angry or hurt or- or awkward." She sighed again and then tried to smile at him. "I really shouldn't be telling you all this; you have so many other more important things to be thinking of right now. You don't need to be bothered by wondering about me and Ron."
"I asked," he reminded her. "Besides, you're my friends. I want to know-and I want to know that you're happy. So that at least someone is…" he added under his breath.
She heard him and frowned, putting a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry about Ginny," she said, rather hesitantly, her voice soft.
"I know," he finally said, because for some reason he did know. "I don't-" he began, hesitated and then continued, "I don't think we were meant to be--somehow. I just wish- wish it could have ended differently."
He sighed and shrugged a little. "It's okay, really. Better it happened now than later, I guess," he finished. He managed a small smile as he looked at her, a smile which she returned.
They sat in silence for a while until he blurted out, "I'm glad you're here."
"I'm glad I'm here too." And she was. Glad to be here, the three of them working together for one goal again; glad to be helping Harry. And glad, just at that moment, to be sitting here beside Harry, not talking but just comfortable, just herself. No need to worry about anything or anyone else, no need to feel self-conscious, no tension, no anger. Just her and Harry. At that moment, in spite of everything, she was happy. And she couldn't help but wonder-half-guiltily-if maybe this was what was missing between her and Ron. Maybe the lack of this peace, this simple content to just be, with another person, was what was wrong between her and Ron…
And maybe, just maybe, this was what was-right-between her and Harry…
To be continued…
Note: Yes, Ron says he loves Hermione-- just like he did in HBP. Does it matter? No. And frankly I
think JKR making Hermione blush over it in HBP is the height of stupidity. It was gratitude, simple gratitude, and
nothing more-- over homework and now, food. Yes, very deep. We say we love people all the time out of gratitude; it
doesn't mean that much and it is NOT a real declaration of deep feeling. Ron's wasn't and is not a serious
declaration and shouldn't have been treated as one in HBP-- because I don't believe he has that sort of real
feeling for Hermione. It's called a teenage crush-- that JKR doesn't seem to believe anything besides a teenage
crush exists is her problem and yet another reason why her so-called romance doesn't work. So her views on romance
have all the emotional range of a teaspoon-- again, that's her problem and it doesn't make us delusional for
believing there's more to romance than that.
With that said, *gets off soapbox* Just wanted to get that out there because it really annoyed me in HBP.