A/N: Another story that takes place during the predicted Horcrux hunt. I know it has been done before, I really hope that you all enjoy it nonetheless. This started as a completely different plot bunny but evolved into this... in my opinion, something much more. I hope, anyway.
*
It was a night where they needed warmth.
Hermione shivered in her sleeping bag. The walls of the tent rattled dangerously as strong winds batted against it. The threatening sounds of waves crashing echoed in her ears, almost as if the ocean was going to swallow them and their little tent up. How she wished that this had been a magical tent.
She burrowed into her sleeping bag, trying to block out the sounds of the wind and waves and also trying to generate some warmth. It was December. She had lost track of what day it was. A cough broke the pattern of usual sounds.
Her eyes flew open. Concern and fear washed over her. It would not do to get sick. Her mind reeled with Harry and Ron repeating over and over.
That is, of course, if that cough did not belong to someone else.
Hermione wrapped her hand around her wand, which was tucked into the waistband of her jeans.
Silently, she peeked her head out of the sleeping bag, only to be met with Harry's form, sitting up, his silhouette hunched over in the dark. Ron was snoring peacefully on her other side. Her grip on her wand loosened.
"Harry?" she whispered.
A whispered incantation and a soft light was shining into her face. "Hermione?"
"You all right?" she asked, sitting up. She shuddered as the cover of the sleeping bag slipped off her shoulders, meeting the cold air in the tent.
Harry did not answer. He really didn't need to. He wasn't looking at her anymore, his face turned away and his wand light extinguished. Hermione bit her lip in worry.
Just as she was about to lie back down, Harry's whisper broke the tense silence that had formed between them.
"This is where we went... that night."
Hermione did not need to ask whom he was talking about.
"D-Dumbledore?" Her heart beat hard against her chest. It was rare to have Harry open up to her like this. She saw his silhouette nod. He still was not looking at her.
Tentatively, Hermione reached out and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. She squeezed it gently.
I am always here.
"You should go back to sleep, Hermione," Harry said softly. Hermione slowly removed her hand from his shoulder. She moved closer to him instead so that they were sitting right next to each other.
"I can't," she told him honestly. "It's a bit cold."
He turned to her, Hermione only just being able to make out his features in the dark. "You're cold?" he asked, concern laced in his voice.
"Yeah. Aren't you?" She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She shivered. "I wish we could conjure some blue flames in a jar or something..."
"We shouldn't use magic, though. We could be detected," Harry explained, although he didn't need to. All three of them were familiar with the rule that magic must be used as little as possible.
"We're close, aren't we," she said.
She saw Harry nod again. "I didn't think we would find anything here. Not after... well..." he trailed off. "Well, we're not sure yet anyway."
Silence fell between them again. Hermione sighed.
"Harry, you should get some sleep," Hermione told him. This wasn't the first night Hermione had caught him awake while she and Ron slept.
"But it's cold," he said, a slight smile in his voice as he used her same reason for being awake.
"Harry..." she began, though he could hear a hint of her own smile.
"Fine. I know, I know." He lied down in his sleeping bag, staring absentmindedly at the roof of the tent. He felt a shudder beside him.
"Erm, maybe we should lie a bit closer together if you're so cold? Body warmth, you know," he suggested. He blushed a little bit at the concept, but told himself that it was a matter of survival and no time to be embarrassed. Hermione responded by promptly sliding closer to him.
*
The next night was just as cold. Hermione shivered uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. She tried muffling the sound my smothering her mouth with the sleeve of a baggy, woolen sweater. Ron was smart and had packed extras, letting her borrow one.
"Your teeth are chattering," Harry whispered beside her.
"Y-yes, I kn-know," she replied.
"Open up your sleeping bag," Harry ordered. Hermione's teeth stopped chattering momentarily.
"Wh-what? Are you crazy?"
"No, come on, trust me." Hermione stared hard at him but did as he instructed. She bit back a whimper as cold air seeped into her sleeping bag.
Suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around her middle in the dark.
"Wh-what are you doing?" she whispered frantically.
"Body warmth, remember?"
Hermione found herself settling into his embrace, noticing how much warmer she really was with the combination of his own heat beside her and both their sleeping bags overlapping each other. "What's Ron going to say?" she asked no one in particular, wrapping her own arms around Harry.
"He can join us tomorrow night if he wants to," Harry answered. The two of them laughed quietly, the first time they had laughed in what seemed like a really long time.
The next morning, Harry and Hermione woke up before Ron did. Hermione noted that the last night had been the best sleep she had gotten in ages. She smiled shyly as she looked up into Harry's face, their arms still wrapped around each other.
"Morning, Harry," Hermione said softly.
Something inside Harry swelled at the sight of her smiling up at him in the morning.
I want to see this every morning...
"Morning." He smiled a little bit himself. "Sleep well?"
"Mmm-hmm," she replied. "You're warm." A soft blush crept up her cheeks. The waves of the ocean were softer in the morning.
Suddenly, the sound of a twig breaking outside of the tent broke the tranquil silence. Harry stiffened. Hermione had heard it, too.
"Harry..." she mouthed, looking at him urgently.
He nodded wordlessly, taking out his wand and motioning towards Ron. The two of them stealthily untangled themselves from each other and slipped out of the sleeping bags. Hermione leaned over to Ron, who was still sleeping peacefully, firmly placing a hand over his mouth as she prodded him awake.
His eyes opened in alarm and his wand was out in a second. Upon recognizing Hermione, he relaxed.
"A noise," she mouthed. Ron nodded.
Harry was already at the tent door. His hand reached for the zipper...
Silencio! Hermione thought. He slid the zipper down, completely silent. He made eye contact with Hermione and thanked her with his gaze.
He took in a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever was out there. He took one last look at Ron and Hermione, on the alert and ready for attack behind him. Something inside of him swelled again.
He crashed out of the tent screaming, "STUPEFY!"
*
Harry hissed in pain as Hermione dabbed at a large gash on his forehead. He could hear Ron in the bathroom, cursing at his own wounds.
"You two are extremely lucky," Hermione said, fiddling with the supplies in the first-aid kit. Another loud swear word echoed from the bathroom, followed by a bang as something fell. Hermione sighed. "There goes a bottle of alcohol," she said. "If only Ron had just let me tend to his wounds..."
"He might have kicked you in the face the way he responds to alcohol on a cut," Harry said. "We could always just get another bottle." Harry felt her soft, cool hands on his forehead as she applied more alcohol-soaked cotton to his wound. He looked all around their room at the inn, willing to focus on anything but her face, which was so close to his.
"So lucky..." she muttered again. She placed both hands on each side of his face, blowing softly at the wound, the feeling immediately relieving Harry. She pulled back, scrutinizing him, her brows furrowed in worry.
Harry wanted to kiss her then.
She's always there...
"Uh, Hermione?" Ron's voice called from the door to the bathroom. "I kind of broke the-"
The moment was gone.
Hermione swiveled around to look at Ron. "Yes, I know, Ron. We'll just get another bottle in the village tomorrow."
Ron looked relieved when she did not chastise him more.
"You all right, Harry?" he called, over Hermione's shoulder.
Harry felt his face break out in a smile as Ron and Hermione waited for his answer. "Never better," he replied. "After all." He held up a wad of dirty rags wrapped around something. "We have this!"
Harry, Ron and Hermione felt themselves staring at the wad of dirty cloth. Only the three of them knew what was underneath it all.
Hufflepuff's cup.
They were one step closer.
*
The room held only two beds. Harry offered to take the floor, but Hermione would have none of it. She would happy to take the floor. Harry and Ron, being their noble selves, declined this arrangement. Ron would take the floor. But Harry didn't want that either. It was a vicious circle.
"Honestly," Hermione said exasperatedly. "I'll just bunk with one of you then!"
Harry and Ron both blushed profusely.
"I, er, I kick in my sleep," Ron mumbled.
Hermione stared at Harry. He looked up, their eyes locking onto each other's, both their minds replaying the night before... the comfort and warmth they found in each other's arms. Ron looked between them, puzzled.
"I'll sleep with Harry, then," she said.
The two of them slept on opposite sides of the bed, carefully not touching each other although it was a mighty feat. Hermione felt that she was going to fall off the bed any minute.
"Beats being cold in a tent, doesn't it?" Harry said, his gaze concentrated on the ceiling.
"Yes, it really does," Hermione answered.
"I'm just glad to be out of there." Harry inwardly cringed at the place they had camped out for the past three nights, near the dangerous cliffs, the threatening waves and the traps before they finally found the horcrux.
"Did you get to identify those Death Eaters?"
"No. They wouldn't talk. I didn't recognize either of them."
"The Ministry seemed a bit surprised at the gift we left them, though. That's always good," Hermione said.
"Thanks to the Portkey that you conjured. I was wondering how we were going to get out of there..."
"Do you know how many laws I broke conjuring that thing?" Hermione shook her head, but a smile was on her face.
"They don't know it was us though. We can't let them know how we caught those Death Eaters. Too many questions would be asked about what we're doing."
Hermione nodded, she shut her eyes tightly. "We're so lucky though. Only a few scratches... I don't know what I would have done if you and Ron's injuries had been worse..."
"What about you? That scratch on your back looked pretty nasty..."
"I try not to think about me," Hermione said. Her eyes were still shut and she shuddered as her thoughts lingered on what could have been.
"Are you cold again?" Harry asked her. Before she could answer, Harry had already moved closer and slipped his arms around her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"No... thank you," Harry whispered back. "For being there," he added.
*
Hermione was reading frantically, trying to ignore the tiredness she felt in her eyes and in her whole body.
Something... anything... something!
She scanned page after page, her fervent page-turning ripping a few pages of the books she looked at. She didn't care.
It was February. They still had not found another horcrux or a way to destroy it. Hufflepuff's cup remained wrapped in cloth, buried in the pack that Harry kept with him at all times.
Hermione was in the library at Grimmauld Place. The House of Black, now the House of Potter because of Sirius leaving it in Harry's name, served as a sort of headquarters for she, Harry and Ron. They came here in between horcrux hunts.
They came here when they had no other leads and were stuck in a rut.
Ravenclaw's wand was unique in that its core held the feather of a raven, believed to have been from Ravenclaw's familiar itself. Raven feathers are not known to hold any magical properties but Ravenclaw excelled in the Dark Arts and the defense against it. Many believe that it was because of this unique core.
Location of the wand remains unknown.
Unknown...
Hermione slammed the book shut. She got up from the table, standing next to the window that overlooked the dark street outside, arms crossed.
"Hermione?"
Hermione turned around. She smiled tiredly. "'Lo, Ron."
"Why are you up so late?" he asked, standing next to her.
"I can't sleep. I'm..." she motioned helplessly to the heap and piles of books on the table behind them.
"Did you find anything?" Ron asked gravely.
Hermione shook her head sadly, the feeling of failure washing over her.
"Ron... I can't," she whispered. She couldn't speak because of the lump in her throat.
"Can't what?" Ron peered at her worriedly. Tears were brimming in her eyes.
"I can't find anything," she whispered, her voice aimed at the floor.
"Hermione?"
"I CAN'T FIND ANYTHING!" Hermione shut her eyes fiercely, her hands coming up to cover her ears. She didn't want to hear herself sob.
Ron looked at her in alarm. He quickly wrapped his arms around her, gently bringing them to a sitting position on the floor. Hermione's body shook with sobs. Her tears soaked through his shirt.
"I can't find anything," she repeated. "Nothing, Ron! What are we going to do? What do we do next?" She hugged him tightly, almost as if he were a lifeline. "I'm lost, Ron. I don't have the answers."
I don't have the answers to help him...
*
Ron tucked her into bed that night, kissing her forehead softly. Hermione was so grateful. Harry and Ron were her life...
"Sleep, okay, Hermione?" Ron said to her, brushing hair off of her face. "You need to be strong. We all do."
For him.
"Thank you, Ron. I-I'm sorry... for breaking down like that." Ron shook his head with a grin on his face. Hermione grinned a little bit herself. "I know how you get around crying girls."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Hey," he said mock-sternly. "I've grown up a bit, alright? If I can handle Death Eaters, I can handle a crying girl. Emphasis on the singular," he added. The two of them chuckled.
We've all grown up.
"Now, sleep." He got up and left her room, the door shutting softly behind him. Hermione stared at his retreating back, turning to stare out the window after he left. The curtains were drawn, therefore she only saw soft, orange balls of light coming from the lampposts outside.
She sat up, her feet sliding over the bed and resting on the cool, hardwood floor. She walked out of her room, the floor creaking with each step she took. She reached his bedroom and debated on knocking on the door.
She did.
"Come in," his voice, to her slight surprise, answered. She opened the door, her head peeking around the corner.
"Why're you awake?" she asked.
He smirked at her from his sitting position on the bed. "I could ask you the same thing."
"I'm cold," she answered. It was partly true. In more ways than one.
No other words needed to be spoken as Harry moved over and Hermione slipped in beside him. It was like second nature the way they wrapped their arms around each other.
I love this.
"So do I."
Hermione's eyes flew open. She did not realize that she had spoken out loud. Harry felt her stiffen in his arms.
"You do?" Hermione asked him, staring up at him.
He tightened his embrace around her, his eyes closing as sleep magically took him over. He slept the best when it was with her.
"Yes," he whispered.
*
Harry wasn't back yet.
Hermione bit her nails as she paced back in forth in the kitchen. Ron was sitting, eerily silent, at the table.
"He didn't tell you where he was going?" she asked him, her voice hovering over the edge of breakdown.
"No," Ron answered, not showing the slightest hint of annoyance like he usually would at Hermione's repeated questions. She kept asking the same questions from five minutes ago. He kept asking himself, too. "He told me that he'd be back. He just needed to get something." Ron wracked his brain from his conversation with Harry that morning. It didn't seem out of the ordinary at all. Harry often went outside in the mornings to go on a walk or even buy some groceries for the house.
"Did he put a Disillusionment charm?" Hermione asked.
Ron shook his head. "No..." Ron buried his face into his hands helplessly.
They couldn't lose Harry. Not now.
We'd all fall apart.
Suddenly a sound at the door echoed towards the kitchen, followed by heavy footsteps. Ron and Hermione had their wands out in a flash. Ron went to be first to open the door. Drawing a deep breath, he swung the door open, ready for attack, Hermione behind him, ready as well.
The two were met with the sight of an extremely disheveled Harry. There was mud smeared on his face, one of the lenses on his glasses was cracked and, Hermione gasped, a dark stain of blood at the front of his robes.
"I-got it," Harry said before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed at their feet.
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