Approaching the End

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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A/N: Thank you for the reviews from the last part!

*

Harry woke up with his eyes too heavy to open, but otherwise warm and with a soft voice whispering into his ear.

“Ron is outside with Madame Pomfrey right now,” Hermione was saying, tracing meaningless patterns on his arm as she lay next to him. “She's asked us a few questions... but we haven't said anything.”

The rustle of curtains. Ron.

“How is he? Has he woken up yet?”

“No,” Hermione replied, getting up. Harry missed her warmth immediately.

“What did she say?” her voice dropping.

“It's okay. She doesn't know. She didn't seem too happy though. Says that we should have brought him to St. Mungo's...”

“St. Mungo's wouldn't have taken him in without us answering questions we don't want to answer,” Hermione said, the stress evident in her voice. “Thank God he's doing well, though. We owe her...”

“I hope he wakes up soon,” Ron said after a silence.

“Me, too. We need to get out of here as soon as possible. No one should know that we're here.”

“Weasley! Granger!” a sharp voice said. Harry's heart stopped beating momentarily as he recognized it as McGonagall's voice.

Harry heard Ron and Hermione leave his bedside. Madame Pomfrey immediately hurried in once they left.

“Oh, Mr. Potter,” she said, clucking her tongue. Harry struggled to move or to just open his eyes, but his body was not cooperating. He felt his mouth being forced open. “This should do you some good.”

He swallowed a foul, bitter substance, his world instantly going black.

*

He sat up quickly in bed, breathing hard. He tried to reach for his wand, but it wasn't found in its usual place. He was on the verge of panicking before Hermione's voice gently signaled her presence in the room.

“It's okay, Harry. Relax,” she said. Harry turned his head to face her. She was sitting at a chair on his bedside, his wand and glasses on the small table next to her. His gaze floated over the rest of the room. He was surprised to see that they were back at Grimmauld Place.

“Wh-what happened?” he asked, his breath slowing.

Hermione pursed her lips. “I could be asking you the same question! Care to explain this?” She threw a wrapped up piece of cloth at his bed. It unraveled as it landed, revealing a wand that rolled slightly before resting at the edge of the cloth, somewhere near Harry's feet.

“How long was I out?” he asked, staring at the wand in wonder. Images from that night flashed in his head.

“Two days! We had to bring you to Hogwarts to see Madame Pomfrey right away! You had just collapsed at mine and Ron's feet with blood leaking out of you like a faucet! It was a good thing Madame Pomfrey didn't ask that many questions!”

“Where's Ron?” Harry quickly asked, hoping to steer Hermione away from a lecture.

It worked.

“He's asleep. He hasn't gotten much sleep the past two days...” Her voice trailed off. Harry looked away. There were dark circles underneath her eyes. She had obviously not gotten much sleep either.

“What about McGonagall?” Harry questioned, memories from his brief time awake in the infirmary at Hogwarts rushing back.

“H-how do you know?”

“What did you tell her?” Harry pressed on.

“We didn't tell her anything!” Hermione said defensively. She bit her lip. “She... she knows, Harry.”

Harry's eyes bulged. “She knows?” Hermione nodded. “How?!”

“Dumbledore, Harry,” Hermione explained. “He didn't leave her a letter or anything explicitly telling her, but McGonagall had found his diaries and she was able to crack the code in order to read past the various recipes for chocolate cake.” Hermione inwardly cracked a smile. “Maybe he wanted her to know. Why else would it have been that easy for her?”

Harry nodded in thought.

“She... she didn't really say anything to us though. She just told us that she knew what we were up to and... she's willing to help in any way that she can.” Harry looked up at her. “It's... it's kind of comforting, isn't it?”

It was when she said it that he felt it... relief like no other. He had no idea that this secret about the horcruxes had been eating away at him this much.

“Here,” Hermione said, grabbing a hold of the wand and its cloth. She stared at it, mesmerized. Intricate designs and runes adorned the handle of the wand and although it must have been centuries old, its dark, almost-black wood shined with brilliance. Hermione could feel the magic radiating off of it. The back of her head warned her that that magic was probably Voldemort's soul encased within. She shuddered, wrapping the wand up and placing it in the pack that hung at the headboard of Harry's head. She felt for Hufflepuff's cup, too.

Two down.

“I really got it, didn't I,” Harry said, his voice breaking her thoughts. Hermione turned around to look at him. He was staring at the pack in disbelief. “I could have died,” he said without thinking, images of the horrors he went through that night flashing before his eyes.

Hermione immediately flew to his side on the bed. “Promise me you'll never do that again,” she said desperately, placing her hands on either side of his face.

Don't leave me again.

He wordlessly turned his stare to her.

I can't.

“Promise me, Harry,” Hermione repeated. The hands on the side of his face gently began to caress his cheeks. “Please?” she whispered.

Are you really here?

He stared into her eyes, seeing the concern and... love... swirling within them. Not thinking of what he was doing, ignoring the protests in his head, he leaned forward, his lips meeting hers.

His mind was immediately silenced when he felt Hermione respond to the kiss. She kissed him back fervently, their lips and tongues dancing with each other as she attempted to drink him in, to reassure herself that he was really there. A thrill went up Harry's spine as he tangled his hands in her hair and unknowingly brought her to lie on top of him.

“Her—Hermione?” Harry said breathlessly, struggling with himself as he stopped the kiss. The protests in his head were coming back, but they were hard to discern through all the haze. She was on top of him, her hands in his hair. His hands had found their way underneath the hem of her shirt, splayed across the small of her back.

What are we doing?

Hermione quieted his thoughts and the words at the tip of his tongue with one look. She gently shook her head, placing a finger over his lips. Her eyes communicated everything.

It's alright. I'm here.

Harry brought one of his hands up to brush the hair from the side of her face. Their lips met again in a softer kiss, lips brushing between whispers and touches leaving trails of fire in their wake.

Harry was amazed at the feeling of having Hermione in his arms in this way. It overwhelmed him in a pleasant way.

You're always here.

*

“Don't leave without telling us again,” Hermione whispered, lying down beside him, staring at him intently. Harry was lying down on his side, facing her, his fingers dancing along her arm much like she had been doing to him in Hogwarts' hospital wing. “Harry, Ron and I are here to help you. Please, remember that!”

Harry steadily avoided her gaze, concentrating on the meaningless symbols he was tracing on her skin. “I had found something,” he said.

Hermione remained silent. He was avoiding having to promise her anything, but she didn't want to interrupt his accounts on the night he left to say anything.

“But where?” asked Hermione. “I looked up everything, everywhere on Ravenclaw's wand!”

“Not everywhere,” Harry said, finally raising his green eyes to look at her.

*

By the time she woke up, night had come, obscuring Harry's bedroom in darkness. Harry's rhythmic breathing and warmth against her told her that he was still sleeping. She smiled fondly as she caught a glimpse of Harry's face cast with silvery light as moonlight cascaded into the room from the window. She leaned over him, admiring the youth, innocence and vulnerability that radiated off his sleeping form. She placed a brief kiss on his temple. Harry squirmed slightly in his sleep, his arm draped over her waist tightening just a little bit as he held her closer.

Just then, the doors burst open and the lights blinked on, blinding Harry and Hermione as they sat up in alarm from the sudden noise.

Ron stood in the doorway, pale as a ghost and breathing shallow. In his hands he clutched a ripped piece of parchment containing hasty scribbles.

“I just got an owl...” he said, his voice cracking. “The Burrow... the Burrow's been attacked.”

*

There was no time to think.

In a whirl, Harry, Ron and Hermione were at St. Mungo's rushing towards a group of people that consisted of Professor McGonagall, Remus, Kingsley, Mad-Eye Moody and Tonks. They all turned gravely towards them as the three teenagers skidded to a stop.

“Mum... Dad...?” Ron asked breathlessly, his freckles standing out starkly against his deathly pale skin.

Remus motioned towards the room they were standing outside of. “They're... they're unconscious right now,” he said grimly. “But the Healers said that they're going to be fine.” Harry and Hermione placed supportive hands on Ron's back as he swayed from relief on the spot. “Ginny, Fleur and your brothers are in there right now.”

Ron nodded and immediately went inside. Harry and Hermione chose to remain outside, considering this a strictly Weasley affair. Remus looked down at them with sad, tired, but kind eyes. The full moon had just passed a couple of days earlier.

“How are you three doing?” he asked, whispering although there was no real need to whisper. He stared at them, his eyes probing. Harry and Hermione shuffled uncomfortably. It seemed that he knew they were up to something. Harry briefly looked up, making significant eye contact with Professor McGonagall. He saw her purse her lips and look away.

“We're doing fine,” said Harry. Remus looked at him suspiciously for a moment, but nodded.

“Professor Lupin, what happened?” questioned Hermione, changing topics for the moment but also effectively getting to the bottom on the attack at the Burrow.

“Death Eaters,” Remus said simply, much too preoccupied to correct Hermione like he usually would have. “They know where the Weasley's loyalties lie. They're some of the few purebloods that were entirely devoted to Dumbledore. And it's no secret to people at the Ministry how much Arthur loves Muggles.”

The expression on Harry's face darkened. It was also no secret how close the Weasley's were to him.

“How's Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione asked fearfully.

Remus shook his head. “They fought hard. They may appear like simple wizards, but Molly and Arthur are strong fighters. The Healers say that they should recover, but it's going to take some time.”

“They called us just in time,” Tonks said.

“There weren't any other Weasleys there, thank goodness. Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny and obviously Ron weren't hurt.”

“Is Percy here?” Harry asked, the words falling out of his mouth before he could stop them.

The adults exchanged looks with one another.

“He got the message,” Moody said plainly.

Harry clenched his jaw, a bitter taste in his mouth.

How could he?

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Remus looked at him in understanding and Harry felt a guilty squirm inside his stomach as he stared into the trusting eyes of one of his parents' best friends.

“Why don't you and Hermione sit over there?” he said, gesturing towards the waiting room area. “Moody and I will be staying here, but Tonks and Kingsley have to get back to the Ministry and Professor McGonagall needs to be at Hogwarts.” A ghost of a smile, a comforting smile, formed itself on Remus' features. “You've been through a lot. Get some rest.”

Harry and Hermione complied, trudging over to the seats as if lead weighed down their shoes. Everything was so overwhelming and Hermione felt herself feel very, very tired despite from having just woken up a few minutes ago. She and Harry sat, Harry hunching over to clasp his hands together in thought as he stared into an empty corner. For a second, Hermione thought of leaning her head on his shoulder or hugging him or something, but she instead chose not to. She did not know exactly what was going on between her and Harry now that they had kissed, and now seemed like an inappropriate time to show affection and possibly raise the topic.

Harry's eyes flickered momentarily in Hermione's direction, her hair choosing that moment to fall and shield her face from him.

It wasn't the right time, and so many other things were going on, but Harry couldn't help but feel a strange, twisting feeling in his stomach. He and Hermione had kissed. It felt like it came out of the blue, yet at the same time, like it had been building up for ages. Being alone with her brought these troubling and confusing questions glaringly to mind. He had even asked Hermione to spend the night with him so he could sleep peacefully, like always when with her, holding her.

Harry sighed. Hermione sighed. They both stared at the clock hanging on the wall in front of them.

For now, all of that had to be pushed to the side. There were much bigger things going on.

And it would do to remember that...

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A/N: Thanks, once again, for the reviews from the last part. Reviews really are the best motivator for a writer, so keep them coming, please! =)

*

It felt like several hours had passed when it really had only been one or two. The Weasleys emerged from the hospital room with ashen faces, each one looking as if they were going to collapse from exhaustion, worry, fear or just a combination of all. Ron took a spot in the waiting area next to Harry and Hermione, sitting down heavily. His breathing was shallow and his once friendly blue eyes had turned steely and cold.

Ginny was the last to exit the room, her eyes downcast as she walked slowly, following Ron’s footsteps to the waiting area. She slowly lifted her head and her eyes met Harry’s.

Without another word, she immediately walked forward and clutched at Harry, a sob escaping her mouth and silent tears streaming down her face.

Hermione quickly looked away, telling herself that she did not see Harry automatically wrap his arms around Ginny. She told herself that even if he did, it shouldn’t matter anyway.

There are more important things to worry about.

Right now, Ron was beside her, his eyes tightly shut and his hands clutching his head. She hurriedly went to go fetch him some water.

*

Harry couldn’t sleep.

Guilt gnawed viciously at him as images of what Mr. and Mrs. Weasley must have been through flashed through his head. Goose pimples appeared on his skin and a chill overtook him as he imagined the quaint Burrow, filled with memories and scents of blessed summers, with the Dark Mark looming treacherously overhead.

It was the least he could do to offer the Weasleys Grimmauld Place to stay in. It was close to St. Mungo’s and well protected. His heart squeezed at the thought of more Death Eaters coming after the family he considered as good as his own.

Ron had told him not to blame himself.

But as Harry looked into the eyes of his friend, filled with anxiety and rendered almost lifeless as he reflected upon his ailing parents, he just couldn’t help himself. He shivered uncontrollably, feeling so cold and alone.

A knock came from his door.

Harry jerked up in bed, surprised at the noise that disrupted the still night. His hand was already upon his wand and his mind was already ripping through all the curses he knew even though he told himself that it was very unlikely that he was going to be attacked at Grimmauld Place. He had made sure of that.

“Come in,” he called out, sitting up.

He was surprised when he saw Ginny come into the room.

“Ginny?” Harry asked. “What are you doing in here?”

Ginny looked up at him shyly. “I, er, I couldn’t sleep.”

Harry understood. Death Eaters had just attacked her parents after all.

“Oh,” was all he said.

“I was wondering if, er, I could... talk... with you,” she finished lamely, looking at him helplessly.

Harry’s eyes grew wide. “Oh! Right... of course. I mean, yeah, if you... need someone to talk to then...” He fumbled with the edges of his blanket for a minute before awkwardly patting a spot at the foot of his bed. Ginny sat down, not at the foot of the bed, but right next to him.

“Harry,” she whispered, so low that he had to lean in to hear her. “I want you to kill him.” She lifted her head to stare hard at him, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “Kill him for what he’s done, Harry.” She then rested her head against his shoulder, sniffing softly and it was all Harry could do to wrap his arms around her and try to comfort her.

“You’re my hero, Harry,” she whispered to him, her head resting against his chest.

Harry did not know whether those words empowered him or just added another burden to his shoulders.

*

Hermione’s heart was beating frantically inside her chest.

She knew she was risking it now that the house was full... but she didn’t think—she never would have thought--

But I should have.

After she saw Ginny enter Harry’s room and close the door silently behind her, Hermione sunk down along the wall, letting out a shuddering breath she didn’t know she was holding.

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

She dug her palms into her eyes, hoping to stop the onslaught of tears she knew was coming. She could feel the prickliness already. She dug harder and harder until stars bloomed behind her eyelids.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up straight in the dark. She blinked rapidly until the prickly feeling behind her eyes disappeared. Now was not the time. They did not have the time. Never will.

Knowing that she wasn’t going to be getting any sleep that night, Hermione traipsed over to the Library. There were more important things to worry about. She had a duty to fulfill.

*

When Hermione awoke, she awoke staring into a pair of blue eyes, a tired smile twinkling in them.

“R-Ron?” she mumbled sleepily, picking up her head from the large tome it rested on.

“Hey, you,” he said. “Why are you asleep here?”

Hermione rolled her head side to side trying to work the crick out from her neck. When she stopped, she saw Ron staring at her, patiently awaiting her answer.

“I had... things to do.”

Ron’s tiny smile disappeared from his face. “You have to get proper sleep, Hermione,” he said.

She smirked. “I think you’ve been hanging around me for too long, Ronald.”

The small smile reappeared at the corners of Ron’s mouth. Hermione felt some of the misery from last night ebb away.

“Come on,” said Ron. “Time for breakfast.”

The thought of breakfast with everyone brought uncomfortable images of having to face Harry, possibly sitting next to Ginny, acting as if everything were normal... acting as if nothing had happened last night. At all. Between either her or Ginny.

“Only if we can eat it outside,” Hermione blurted out. She was glad that the sun chose that moment to stream in through the windows.

Ron looked at her bewildered. “Hermione, it’s February!”

She plastered on a smile. “But it’s almost March. It can’t be that cold. Besides, it looks gorgeous outside today.”

*

Harry was beginning to wonder where Ron and Hermione were. Everyone was already in the kitchen, eating the breakfast that Charlie had prepared, except him or her. He would have gone to check on Hermione, maybe to wake her up, but something held him back. Ginny had found him standing outside her door and had convinced him to come to breakfast already.

“Morning, everyone!” Ron announced, entering the kitchen already fully dressed, with Hermione right behind him.

A chorus of “g’mornings” wound themselves around the table. Ron and Hermione sauntered over with their plates, piling food onto them and grabbing mugs of coffee or tea. Harry watched as they gathered everything, his eyes mostly following Hermione’s movements. Her hand gently brushed against his as she reached for the jam. Harry’s eyes shot up to her face and he felt slightly startled when he saw her staring right back at him.

It felt like a few moments had passed before they tore their gazes away from each other. Hermione mumbled a “sorry” for bumping his arm. Harry opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted when Ron called out her name.

“Hermione, you coming?”

Her head turned to face Ron, completely away from Harry.

“Yes, Ron! And don’t remember to get our coats! We can’t be catching our death out there!” she called after him, immediately turning back into the same, old Hermione. Except that she wasn’t... to him.

Harry wanted to ask where they were going and why they needed their coats, but before he could say anything at all, the pair of them walked out of the kitchen with their plates and mugs in hand.

*

When Remus came to visit, Harry was expecting more bad news. He wasn’t that much comforted when Remus informed everyone that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were doing splendid and should be waking up any time now. It did not help that he had gathered him, Ron and Hermione into one of Grimmauld Place’s many drawing rooms so he could talk to them in private.

“You three are to begin your training this Saturday with Tonks, Kingsley, Moody and I,” were the first words out of his mouth.

Harry, Ron and Hermione just stared stupidly at him.

“Training?” asked Harry. “For what?”

Remus pursed his lips. “For Voldemort and his Death Eaters of course... and anything else he might have up his sleeve.” He crossed his arms looking down at the three of them. “There may not be a formal Order of the Phoenix right now, but we’d be damned to let you three do everything yourselves.”

He dropped his arms, signaling that their private meeting was over. But before they could all pile out of the room, he stopped them.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” He pulled something out from his pocket and tapped it with his wand. Five leather bound notebooks appeared in his hand, which he promptly handed over to Hermione. “From McGonagall. She says that she herself was unable to find anything more in them, but maybe you three might.” He watched as Hermione traced her fingers on the faded, gold-lettering on the spine in awe.

“Dumbledore’s diaries,” she said, her voice floating around them all.

“Good luck on your search,” Remus said before nodding at each one of them and leaving the room.

*

Hermione, whether she did it consciously or unconsciously, made it a point to avoid Harry as much as she could. It had been quite easy when all the Weasleys had been staying with them.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had woken up two days ago and were recovering smoothly.

The house felt extremely empty after they all left. Harry, Ron and Hermione were once again left to their own devices as everyone else departed and continued to do their own part in the war against Voldemort.

Hermione looked away as Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck before she left to go back to Hogwarts. She missed Harry slightly turning his head so that Ginny’s lips caught themselves at the corner of his mouth.

Ginny stepped back from him, an unreadable expression on her face. She simply nodded curtly and proceeded to hugging Ron and Hermione goodbye.

“I’ll write,” she told them, her eyes lingering a little bit longer on Harry. “You, too, okay?”

“Goodbye, Ginny,” he said to her, shoving his hands deep within his pockets and looking at her with apologetic eyes.

*

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

Hermione nearly dropped the mug of tea she had been making in surprise. She whipped around, breathing hard and her hand already upon her wand.

“Don’t do that!” she said, hastily sticking her wand back into the waistband of her pajama bottoms.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Harry repeated, stepping closer to her. She promptly turned her back to him, busying herself with making tea.

“I would never try to avoid you, Harry,” she said, a hint of exasperation in her voice. She had thought that she had crept out of bed quiet enough so as not to wake either Harry or Ron... but especially Harry. “Want some tea?” she asked.

Harry stared hard at the back of her head, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Ginny and I aren’t together,” he said, feeling compelled to tell her this... to make her understand, to make her believe, that this was true.

Hermione’s fingers slipped a bit at these words, the teaspoon she had been holding almost falling out of her hands and clattering to the ground.

“Really?” She turned around to face him, her features a complete mask only showing him concern when he knew that what he really wanted to see was lying underneath. “Did you want to talk about it?”

Harry’s eyebrows drew closer together. “No, I... no, that’s not what I want to talk about!” he exclaimed. He did not understand why she was playing dumb. Hermione could be everything but dumb.

“How much sugar did you want in your tea, Harry?” she asked.

Something inside of Harry cracked at the way Hermione was asking him trivial questions, at the way she just stood there, making tea, acting as if nothing happened, acting as if that night had not happened. Sure, they hadn’t exactly had the time to discuss things the past few days, but here he was now, trying to open the discussion and getting no results whatsoever. He severely doubted that anyone could forget that easily. Especially Hermione.

“You know how I like my tea,” he said to her stiffly.

She nodded and continued making his tea.

Harry felt himself snap.

“Hermione, what’s going on?” he whispered roughly, remembering to keep his voice low because Ron was asleep upstairs.

She stopped making tea and turned around to look at him, leaning against the counter. It suddenly occurred to Harry how tired she looked. She impatiently massaged one of her temples as her other hand clutched at the counter.

“Harry, I can’t do this right now,” she told him wearily.

But Harry wouldn’t give up.

“Well, when can you?” he asked her stubbornly.

“Goodnight, Harry,” she said, stepping past him and storming out of the kitchen, leaving her and Harry’s tea, steam rising out of the mugs.

*

Hermione flipped through one of Dumbledore’s volumes, jotting down notes whenever she found something remotely useful. The piece of parchment she was working with was covered with her handwriting and key phrases and words stood out only to Hermione amongst the scribbled mess.

She closed the latest notebook she had been scouring, focusing instead on her notes.

Tom Riddle... horcruxes... orphanage... Harry... cup... Ravenclaw... wand... Priori Incantatem... Lily and James Potter...

Her mind worked fast, sorting everything she read into predetermined categories and slots in her mind. It was like working out a very complicated puzzle. Some words filled in voids, others created new blanks, and still others seemed to fit nowhere.

“Come on, Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione said to the empty room around her. “Help me find something!”

*

Attacks were becoming more and more common, news of some attacks coming all the way from France. The Ministry still tried to cover things up, but the general Wizarding public wasn’t stupid. News traveled faster by mouth anyway.

Harry felt it approaching. It scared him to death. It also killed him a little bit inside when he looked into Hermione’s eyes and only saw hardness and raw determination for her research.

She didn’t sneak into his room at night anymore. He stayed up often, a tiny hope flickering inside of him that she would.

“This came for you,” Hermione said to him, breaking his thoughts. She handed him an envelope.

To Arnold

Harry stared at it cryptically.

“Arnold? I don’t any Arnolds... the only Arnold I know is Ginny’s little Pygmy...” his voice trailed off as realization dawned on him. It was a letter from Ginny, disguised. He looked to Hermione, only to have her quickly look away from him.

“Oi! You two, you better come in here. Remus is in the Floo!”

Harry and Hermione quickly hurried to the room Ron called from. Remus’ head was in the fireplace and he looked up at the three of them gravely.

“I think you three better come here quick,” he said to them, speaking fast so their communication did not last too long.

“What is it?” Harry asked in alarm.

Remus’ expression darkened. “It’s Mundungus Fletcher. We... we found him dead in an alleyway last night and... I think there’s something that you need to see.”

A/N: I’m sorry for the long delay in my usual week-or-something updates. Life got really complicated for a bi and then the internet on my computer broke, but it’s starting to go back to normal and the internet is all fixed!

I hope you like this next chapter, despite even more complications between Harry and Hermione. That can happen when you have to deal with horcruxes and such, so give ‘em a break =P.

The reviews from the last part were some of the best I have received. Thank you so much and please leave a review for this part, too, if you’ve got something to say.

*

Harry and Hermione quickly hurried to the room Ron called from. Remus’ head was in the fireplace and he looked up at the three of them gravely.

“I think you three better come here quick,” he said to them, speaking fast so their communication did not last too long.

“What is it?” Harry asked in alarm.

Remus’ expression darkened. “It’s Mundungus Fletcher. We... we found him dead in an alleyway last night and... I think there’s something that you need to see.”

*

Ron swung the locket in front of his face like a pendulum, his eyes following it as it flew back and forth and back and forth. He finally dropped it onto the table and sighed.

“What good is it when we have, what, three horcruxes but we don’t even know how to destroy them?” he asked out loud.

Hermione bristled. “I’m doing all I can, Ron! As I’m sure you know, the information regarding horcruxes is a tiny bit scarce. Not even McGonagall or Lupin know anything about them,” she hissed at him vehemently.

Ron raised his arms in either surrender or protection. “I wasn’t blaming anyone, Hermione. I was just saying...”

Harry stared darkly out of Grimmauld Place’s kitchen window, deep in thought. He couldn’t help but acknowledge that Ron was right. They had the horcruxes, but what were they going to do with them?

“I say we just throw them against a wall or slam it down with a Bludger or something and see what happens.”

“Ron, are you crazy?! Did you see Dumbledore’s hand last year? It was completely mangled! It was black! And all from destroying a horcrux!”

“But how do you know how Dumbledore destroyed the horcrux, huh? He didn’t say that he tried it physically. What if he used magic? Maybe horcruxes have some shield around them preventing magic from being used to destroy them, or if it is used, it has serious repercussions like a mangled, black hand!”

Hermione gaped, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

Ron had a point.

Harry turned away from the window to face Ron and Hermione at the table.

“It’s still too dangerous to try, though,” Hermione finally said. “We need to research further into the subject.”

“But Hermione!” Ron said exasperatedly. “How long have you, and us too might I add, been researching the subject? It’s been months! And it’s gotten us nowhere in finding out how to destroy the bloody bastards.” Ron eyed the locket crucially before grabbing the sugar container and smashing it over the locket.

“RON!” Hermione cried.

“Calm down, Hermione. It didn’t even scratch the damn thing. I was just getting frustrated.” He set the sugar container aside, starting to clean up the sugar that had spilled on the table.

Harry approached the table, staring at the locket cautiously as it was going to explode any minute.

Reading his mind, Hermione looked at him in disbelief. “Harry, you’ve got to be joking.”

“I destroyed Riddle’s diary by plunging a Basilisk fang through it,” he said to no one in particular. He looked up at Ron and Hermione, his eyes shining as his mind started piecing parts of a complicated puzzle together. “Dumbledore was the one who destroyed the ring, and he probably used magic.” He grabbed a hold of the locket. “But I was the one who destroyed the diary and I didn’t use magic.” He approached the kitchen counter and opened up a rickety, old drawer.

“Harry...” Hermione began slowly, fearing the worst.

“So that means...” He pulled out a hammer from the drawer, ironically a tool Hermione insisted on keeping inside the house for practical uses, and swung hard at the locket perched atop the counter.

“HARRY!” Hermione shrieked before a blinding light filled the kitchen.

*

Harry blinked his eyes open, somehow finding himself on the other side of the kitchen, crumpled painfully against a wall. He stood up, hearing a few limbs and joints crack a bit painfully, but otherwise... he was perfectly fine.

“Ron? Hermione?” he called out to the eerily quiet kitchen.

“Wow.” Harry quickly turned his head to see Ron peering out from under the table. “Wow,” he repeated.

There was a groan and both boys hurried over to Hermione who had also been thrown off her feet and was now sprawled in the corner of the kitchen. She groaned again. “It hurts to move,” she said. “I think a chair flew at me,” Groaning again, she slowly tried to sit up. Harry and Ron were quick to help her.

“You’re bleeding,” Harry remarked, wiping a spot of blood slightly above Hermione’s eyebrow. His touch made both of them stop for a split second and they stared into each other’s eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. Ron had turned away from them and was staring at the locket, still lying on the counter innocently. The only difference was that it was open.

“I think you did it, mate,” he said softly.

Harry ripped his eyes away from Hermione’s. “Huh?” he said pathetically, his mind swirling over everything too much too fast.

“I think you destroyed it.” Ron slowly stepped towards the locket and touched the locket, once, twice, as if he expected it to burn him. He picked it up and started swinging it back and forth again. He burst out laughing. “You fucking did it!”

Ron ran over and hugged both Harry and Hermione, squeezing them painfully together. But they didn’t care. They were all laughing. Hermione found that she was crying. Harry was speechless. His eyes were still fixed on the spot on the counter where the locket was. A large scrape in the wood signaled the impact his hammer had made and the chairs and table were askew around the kitchen, but remarkably, that was all.

“Harry Potter and the Horcrux-Destroying Hammer!” Ron exclaimed.

“Who knew it would have been that easy?” Hermione whispered in wonder.

Harry agreed.

Why was it so easy?

*

Dear Harry,

I miss you already.

This is very hard for me to write because I’m not exactly sure where “we” stand at this point. I know that you ended things between us, but with everything that’s happened, I just don’t know. It seems like only yesterday we were walking by the lake at Hogwarts or flirting with each other at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

I better end this now. I hope to see you soon.

Love,

Ginny

*

“What did she say?”

Harry jumped in his seat, jolting out of his silent reading of Ginny’s letter for the second time.

“Ginny,” Hermione said, sitting across from him with a cup of tea in her hands. “What did she say?”

“Nothing,” Harry lied, avoiding eye contact with Hermione.

Hermione stared at him for a moment before sighing and picking up a copy of the day’s Daily Prophet. “There’s been another attack. A family in Bedford.”

Harry hated this routine they shared. The routine of normality where “good mornings” and “good nights” were shared, where Hermione went to the library to research and where Harry occupied his time with Ron discussing strategies and more research, where the three of them poured everything they got into their training that they were too tired to talk the rest of the day. The routine where she no longer came to his room seeking warmth or comfort, and he no longer sought it from her either, chickening out every time he wanted to.

Ron shuffled into the kitchen, his hair sticking up on end from last night’s sleep and a piece of parchment clutched in his hand. “Mum is inviting us over this weekend,” he said, scratching the back of his head absently.

“For what?” Harry asked, trying to ignore the way Hermione was ignoring him behind bold headlines.

Ron looked up from Mrs. Weasley’s letter, an odd expression on his face. “For my birthday,” he said softly. His gaze snapped back to the letter. “Blimey, I had forgotten all about that...”

“Then we’ll go,” Harry said, pasting a smile on to his face.

Is this what the war has done to them?

*

Fred and George’s flat was buzzing with activity. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been staying there since their discharge from St. Mungo’s since The Burrow wasn’t in any state to live in.

“Yet!” Mrs. Weasley had briskly said while she stirred contents with a heavenly smell in a large pot. “All of us grew up in that house so we’re going to do everything we can to bring it back.”

When Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived, an onslaught of Weasley hugs were received. Mrs. Weasley fussed endlessly over them, ignoring Ron entirely when he pointed out that she was the one who had been in a hospital just last month.

“’Lo, Harry,” a shy voice said to him. Harry’s eyes met Ginny’s but he quickly looked away.

“Hey, Gin,” he said.

Hermione observed their exchange, almost missing it entirely within the flurry of Mrs. Weasley’s chidings of Ron standing next to her. She watched as Harry looked away from Ginny, shoving his hands into his pockets, a gesture she knew he did when he was nervous and uncomfortable. When he turned away, his eyes came in contact with hers and it was her turn to look away.

“Oh, Hermione! Would you be a dear and help Ginny and I in the kitchen?” Mrs. Weasley asked, while Ron fiddled with his hair consciously after having suffered an attack to it.

Hermione pulled on her best smile. “Sure, Mrs. Weasley.”

Harry watched as the girls walked into the kitchen, Ginny looking back at him before the door swung shut.

“Oy, let’s go into the living room,” Ron said. “Grab a Butterbeer or something.”

“Ronald!” Mrs. Weasley’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Go set the table!”

“But it’s my birthday!” Ron exclaimed.

“So?” the rest of the Weasleys chorused.

Harry laughed heartily, slapping Ron on the back. “Happy birthday, mate. C’mon, I’ll help you.”

*

With a delicious dinner resting in their stomachs and slices of chocolate cake covered in cherries topping it all off, the family broke off into happy chatter around the living room. Harry’s spirits felt considerably lighter knowing that three horcruxes had been destroyed and that the Weasleys (except for one... Percy had yet again failed to show up) were safe and happy, under the same roof for once. His feelings of contentment were disrupted when he felt a warm hand place itself on his thigh momentarily.

“Meet me in the kitchen,” Ginny said out of the corner of her mouth, as she got up and began to gather dishes.

His stomach churning, Harry got up, offering to help.

*

Hermione sighed as she toyed with the crumbs of cake on her plate.

“Are you done?”

She looked up at Harry, waiting expectantly for her plate. Her eyes darted over his shoulder to see Ginny with a pile of plates of her own, waiting for him so they could go into the kitchen together. She pushed the plate towards Harry’s outstretched arm.

“Yeah, I’m done.” Then she turned away, missing Harry looking back at her before Ginny hustled him into the kitchen with the dishes.

Soon after they disappeared, Ron appeared next to her, handing her a cold bottle of Butterbeer.

“Balcony?” he asked, and she nodded.

When they stepped on to the balcony, Hermione was glad for the sweater she wore as a chilly wind blew from the late, winter night. It was bearable though, and she was thankful for the fresh air compared to the heat coming from the flat full of Weasleys.

“There’s something going on between you and Harry,” Ron said, opening his Butterbeer, the bottle hissing noisily into the night.

“Hmm,” was all Hermione said, not opening her drink just yet.

The two stood in companionable silence as Ron sipped thoughtfully, looking out over a busy, Muggle London street.

“Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes must be doing smashing if Fred and George can afford a place like this.” He sipped again as Hermione remained silent. “Albeit, it’s not a flat that can house all of us at once, but...” He shrugged.

“Ron,” Hermione suddenly said. “Why don’t you think the two of us didn’t work out?”

Ron gulped, focusing intently on the cars zooming by on the street. “Why do you ask?”

Hermione shrugged. “I don’t know,” she told him truthfully.

“Well first of all,” Ron said, “we decided to keep our relationship a secret from everyone.”

“There were more important things to worry about,” Hermione explained.

“I know, I know.” Ron sighed and turned to face her. “Second of all, while the snogs were nice, the fights seemed to get worse.”

“And I always thought that you liked the fights.” Hermione smirked, receiving a light shove from Ron.

“I did... once in a while. But,” he turned to face her seriously. “They started getting a bit...”

Hermione nodded, not needing Ron to finish.

“And third of all?” Ron leaned in a bit closer. “Your thoughts were with someone else.”

Hermione’s eyes bulged and she stepped back from him. “What? My thoughts were not—“ she began.

“You just didn’t know it at the time, Hermione,” Ron said, interrupting her tirade. “Either did I, honestly. But looking back, it makes sense.”

“I don’t see how it makes sense,” Hermione huffed.

“Oh come on. What was the number one reason we kept our relationship a secret?”

Harry.

“We had other things to worry about!”

“Like...?”

Hermione remained quiet.

“And our fights, they started to be about...”

Harry.

“But that hardly...! I’m sorry, Ron, but the times you wanted to go off snogging we were knee-deep in research about Voldemort!”

“I know, I know, Hermione!” Ron said, trying to soothe her down. “Don’t worry about it. But... it’s just... Harry was part of everything, whether we did it consciously or not. Sometimes, I think that we wouldn’t even have been friends if it weren’t for him! Actually, we wouldn’t have been friends if it weren’t for him.” Hermione bit her lip. “He’s the one that remembered to go back for you in first year, you know.”

“H-he was?” Hermione asked, not knowing this minor detail in the history of their great friendship.

Ron nodded. “Yup. So you see? If it weren’t for him, ‘we’ would have been nothing.” He turned to stare out at the city street once more.

Hermione moved closer to him and hooked an arm though his, leaning her head against him. “I don’t know, Ron. Maybe first year just wasn’t our year, but I think we still could have been friends.” He looked at her and she smiled up at him. “I don’t regret my time with you. We had fun, really. But we just weren’t meant to be like that. At least we’re better friends now, though.”

Ron smiled back and kissed the top of her head. “That’s true.” He stared out at the sky pensively and it amazed Hermione how much Ron had grown and how much he reminded her of Harry at that moment. “We’ve been through too much to throw everything away,” he said.

Hermione’s heart tugged at his words, her mind fleeting to Harry who was back inside.

With Ginny.

Her heart squirmed again but for different reasons. She joined Ron’s gaze out to London sadly. “I wish we worked though,” she whispered as she thought of how Harry and Ginny must be getting back together right now. What was stopping him, really? They had destroyed three horcruxes, things were going relatively smoothly and spirits were high.

Ron shook his head. “No. One can’t go wandering around life trying to make something out of nothing at all.”

“Yes. You’re right,” Hermione said softly, her voice being carried off by the wind, her thoughts drifting to a kiss that happened between her and Harry almost a month ago.

Just let go, Hermione.

*

“I’m sorry, Ginny.”

Ginny sniffed, wiping her eyes with her wrist since her hands were soapy. She turned away from him and continued washing the dishes. She soon gave up, a plate slipping from between her fingers and clattering loudly in the sink. She sighed.

“Well, I tried, didn’t I?” she said, a fake smile on her face as if she wanted to laugh the whole thing off as a lighthearted joke between friends.

“I-I’m sorry,” Harry repeated, meaning it but knowing that his words were losing all meaning anyway.

Ginny grabbed a hold of his hands, causing them to be soapy as well but that was the last thing on both of their minds. She stood up on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his, but when he didn’t respond, she quickly dropped his hands and stepped back, fleeing the kitchen.

Harry stood there, alone and dumbfounded. When he finally gathered up his thoughts, he cast a charm over the dishes to wash themselves and went into the living room to join everyone else.

It was Bill that pointed out where Ron and Hermione were standing out on the balcony when Harry failed to find them.

In a room full of Weasleys, Harry was surprised to find himself feeling very alone.

A/N: Midterms blow. Keep me happy with reviews! Hope you like this part!

*

“Ron, are you scared?” Hermione asked him.

Ron gulped not knowing how to answer that question. Instead he said, “Well, Hermione, are you scared?”

She looked away from him, staying silent.

“Me too,” Ron said.

*

By the time they Apparated back to Grimmauld Place it was past midnight. Hermione went up to bed yawning widely, bidding Harry and Ron goodnight. The two watched her go.

“Well, I don't blame her. She was up early today doing research,” Ron said, kicking his shoes off.

Harry grunted in reply, hanging up his coat. He hadn't said much to the two of them the rest of the evening ever since they returned to the living room from the balcony back at Fred and George's.

Ron noted Harry's strange demeanor but ignored it. “Do you think we'll be able to find out what the next Horcrux is?”

“I don't know, Ron,” Harry answered tiredly. He didn't feel like talking to Ron tonight. He just wanted to go right to bed like Hermione.

Ron shrugged. “Well, I guess if anyone is going to find out it'll be Hermione,” he said.

“Of course,” Harry said stiffly.

Ron slammed the closet door a little harder than necessary. “What's your problem, Harry?” he asked.

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Harry snarled. He didn't care whether or not it was Ron's birthday. Technically, it wasn't since it was past midnight. He was tired and annoyed over...

“Hermione,” Ron said simply.

Harry whipped around. “What?”

Ron was staring at him seriously, arms crossed as he leaned against the staircase railing. “Your problem. Hermione.”

“Why would it...?” Harry turned around shaking his head. “It's not Hermione.”

“Oh, so is it Ginny then?”

“No!” Harry snapped.

“Then it has to be Hermione.”

“Well, right now it's you if you don't quit it.”

Ron laughed lightly. “Look, Harry, we could dance around this all night but to be frank, I know you too well.”

Harry had a hard time believing this. Ron wasn't the most perceptive bloke on the planet and after seven years of knowing him, this was really the first time he ever confronted Harry about this type of issue. Harry scoffed.

“Think what you want,” Ron said, still in that annoyingly cool tone of his. “Being around Hermione a lot has rubbed off on me.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Harry blurted out. Ron visibly stiffened.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I don't think I need to explain what I mean by that,” Harry replied coldly. “You know very well what I mean.”

“Are you jealous?” Ron asked incredulously, his eyes widening.

“I'm tired. I'm going to bed.” Harry started up the staircase.

“You're bloody jealous!” Ron said, following him up the stairs. Harry ignored him. “Why are you jealous? You have nothing to be jealous about!”

Harry huffed and stopped in his tracks. “Nothing to be jealous about? I'm sorry, Ron, but you guys are my two best friends and with the way the two of you have been running off together to be alone, well...”

“You notice us running off? Now?”

“Of course I notice you running off! And what do you mean by now?”

Harry clenched his fists. Ron wore an expression of mirth that he really wanted to punch.

“Mate, Hermione and me aren't together! Not now anyway.”

Harry blinked. “What do you mean by now?” he repeated.

The tips of Ron's ears turned slightly red. “I-I don't know if I should be the one telling you this.”

“Well, who then?” Harry asked, crossing his arms.

“Okay, Harry, look. Don't be mad, all right? Hermione and I... we went out.” Ron stared apprehensively into Harry's face. “We dated... for a little bit.”

Harry remained quiet. The inside of his head was screaming, however.

“We didn't tell anyone. You weren't the only one we kept quiet around. No one knew. But, well, it just didn't work out.” Ron shrugged, his voice faltering.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Well,” Ron said, “you mentioned on how you noticed us `running off together'.” He quoted with his fingers. “I just find it funny how you never noticed it when we did it before. Only... now.”

Harry turned away from him and began marching up the stairs again.

“Harry, do you fancy her?” Ron called after him. He didn't answer. “I think you should talk to her!” Ron called again. His only response was the sound of a door slamming.

*

Harry didn't rest easily that night. His dreams, for once not plagued by Voldemort, were instead full of dreams involving Ron and Hermione.

Harry, do you fancy her?

Ron's question echoed in his head even in the morning.

Yes, I fancy her.

But Harry couldn't help but question his own feelings. Did he really? Or was he simply jealous that his two “best” friends shared something that he hadn't been a part of?

Nights full of coldness and warm arms encircling each other filled his mind, and a moment where a heated kiss was shared hummed throughout his entire body.

He needed to talk to her. For real.

He found her in one of Grimmauld Place's drawing rooms. Ripped and worn tapestries hung on the walls, each one depicting a different kind of Dark creature. Harry couldn't understand how Hermione was able to work in here. She was hunched over a molding desk, books and parchment scattered all around her. Her hair was haphazardly clipped back, her fingertips were stained with ink and her mouth was absently muttering things as a quill and parchment floated in front of her, scribbling frantically.

“Hermione?” Harry called from the doorway.

Hermione looked up, startled, the quill and parchment dropping from its floating state.

“Oh! Harry, it's just you,” she said. A small smile lit up her face and for once it almost seemed like things were back to how it used to be. But upon seeing the serious expression on Harry's face, the smile immediately disappeared. “Wh-what is it?”

Harry took a step into the room. He had no idea how to start. He figured the best way was to sort of ease the topic in, but things between him and Hermione had been so distant as of late that he couldn't even conjure up small talk. He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans.

“Er...” he began. He looked down at his feet. For a moment, he thought he saw Hermione make a move as if she were going to step closer to him from the other side of the desk, but when he looked back up she was still in the same spot. “I-I was wondering if you wanted to practise some dueling,” he finished lamely.

“Dueling?” Hermione asked, blinking.

“Y-yeah,” Harry said, shrugging. “Remember what Kingsley said. We need to practise as much as we can and... we haven't done so in a while. I'm always dueling with Ron and I'm starting to know how he moves.” At least that much was true.

“Oh, sure,” Hermione said, beginning to gather up her stuff on the desk. “Just give me a minute to get ready. I'll meet you upstairs?”

“Yeah. Upstairs.” Harry turned on his heel and proceeded to the large, empty room where they practised dueling, wondering if he'll ever be able to talk to Hermione about... this.

*

“Harry? You in here?”

Harry immediately stood up from his sitting position on the mats on the floor. “Y-yeah! I'm here.”

Hermione walked over to the middle of the room. “Okay. Let's do this.”

“Right.” Harry walked to stand across from her, telling himself to slip into dueling mode. He trained hard to put outside feelings away when it came time to duel.

Suddenly, without warning, Harry felt a weight slam into him and his wand leapt out of his grasp. Luckily he was able to grab onto the wand and hold it before it went any farther. He looked up. Hermione stared at him with her eyebrows raised. Harry wasn't fighting like normal. It seemed like his mind was elsewhere... no niceties were exchanged during these duels because it was more than likely that a Death Eater was not going to show you some. Usually he was on the alert, putting up a Protego Charm in a flash.

Just then a jet of red light came flashing toward her and she ducked just in time, rolling over and getting onto her feet as fast as possible. It was like a switch had been turned on. Harry was sending hex after hex and Hermione barely had anytime to put up shields and throw in a few curses herself.

“You're being too defensive,” Harry said to her as she erected yet another shield, causing the jet of red light to bounce off of it. “You have to be on the offense, too!” He threw another curse and yet again, Hermione threw up a shield.

She gritted her teeth. It was all well and good for Harry to say all that, but he wasn't giving her a chance!

Death Eaters aren't going to give you any chances, either.

Hermione took a deep breath and finally launched a spell at him.

Expelliarmus!

But Harry was able to put up a shield just as fast as she was. He threw another one at her and this time, a Stinging Hex grazed her shoulder. She didn't dwell on it too long. She, Harry and Ron got these all the time during their duels with one another. They were easy to heal.

“Offense!” Harry yelled, annoying Hermione.

“Quit telling me what to do and just duel!” she yelled back, sending a jet of red light streaking toward him. He ducked out of the way.

“I'm just trying to help!” he said, as another jet of red light just missed his right ear.

“Well, don't! Death Eaters aren't going to be helping me, are they?” She threw up another shield, but still managed to slide a few feet backwards with the force of the curse Harry sent.

“Fine!” Harry sent another curse, not realising how much force he was putting into them. Hermione bit her lip as the curse bounced off her shield but still sent her sliding back. She Apparated to a different part of the room, throwing Harry off but he was back in the game quickly.

He was doing it again. She couldn't get any curses in. Harry was just too fast. A part of her was proud with his quickness with the wand, but another part of her was getting aggravated.

EXPELLIARMUS!

Her mind screamed and sure enough, the curse flew at Harry at an alarming speed. He tried to throw up a shield but this time, he wasn't fast enough and the curse was particularly strong this time. He had the wind knocked out of him and he felt his wand fly from his grip. Breathing hard, he watched as his wand flew into Hermione's outstretched arm. He desperately thought “Accio!” to get it back although he knew it wasn't going to work.

But then, before Hermione could grab the wand it began to float back toward him. Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. Harry couldn't believe what was happening. His concentration on his wand broke and it clattered to the floor. The two of them stared at it, breathing hard from exertion. Hermione looked up at him.

“Harry... did you just do wandless magic?”

Harry shook his head. “I-I don't know!”

Hermione bent down and picked up his wand. Walking over and handing it to him, she stared levelly into his eyes. “Do you have any idea what his means?” she asked him.

Harry cradled his wand as if it were made of glass. “No...” He looked at her, slightly surprised to see that she was smiling.

“Harry! This means that... well... you're powerful!” She took a hold of his wand again to examine it, Harry noticing how her hands held his for a moment. “Bloody powerful, is how Ron would put it,” she said with a smile, staring at his wand. “Of course we knew that you were powerful, what with conjuring a Patronus at thirteen, but this just strengthens that fact!” She babbled on excitedly. “You have to practise this! We should let Remus know, he'll know what to do. Or maybe even McGonagall. I'm pretty sure Dumbledore said something in his journals... those could help. This could be an advantage! Wandless magic is very difficult. Voldemort can probably do it, but now that you can do it, too, with practise of course, it's putting you two on a level playing field for once. Oh, Harry!” She threw her arms around him as he listened to her rapid talking in shock.

Hermione pulled back from him, her arms still wrapped around his neck. “I always knew you were above the rest,” she whispered happily. Harry looked at her, her hair in disarray from dueling, wearing a simple white tank top and black sweat pants, but with her face smiling because she was proud of him. Her breath came out in short gasps from talking so fast.

“You did? You do?” Harry asked.

Hermione beamed. “Of course! Why do you think I always push you so hard?” She laughed and it seemed as if all the awkwardness between them for the past few weeks evaporated into thin air. At least for this moment.

Harry suddenly realized the position they were in. His arms rested on her waist and hers were wrapped around his neck. They were so close...

The air in the room had suddenly changed. Hermione pulled back farther, forcing Harry to let her go. “We should let Remus know now,” she said. “Then you can start practising it as soon as possible.” She bent down to pick up her wand from when she had dropped it in excitement. “Good practise, Harry,” she said before turning around and heading toward the door.

Harry watched her go for a good five steps before calling out, “Hermione, wait!”

She turned around and with quick strides, Harry walked up to her, standing very close, face to face. “You... you really think I can do this? I can master all this and... and...”

Hermione reached up to stroke his cheek. “Harry,” she whispered. “You're a great wizard, you know.”

“Not as good as you,” he quickly said, the words sounding familiar.

Hermione scoffed. “Me-“

Harry cut her off. “Yes... you.” And he leaned in and kissed her.

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