The Reason by Emerald Tears

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 23/04/2007
Last Updated: 21/08/2007
Status: Paused

Neither of them spoke a word as the door that lead to what could possibly be the last moment of
untainted peace they had shared together closed behind them. An odd sense of loss gripped Harry as
he stared at the door, but the warmness coming from Hermione’s hand provided him with all the
comfort he needed.




1. The Reason
-------------



The Reason

A/N: Hello there! This was originally posted in FF.net, but I love this site so much (and I
finally got accepted!) that I decided to put it here, too.

This story for some reason just popped into my mind, and the only way for my soul to be at peace
was to write it down. I'm feeling quite sad and frustrated, but this cheered me up. This is a
one shot, by the way. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Nah, I don't own anything, save for the plot...

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On that beautiful summer night, the atmosphere was simply festive. It was hard to believe that
outside that garden, four Horcruxes and Voldemort awaited. It seemed surreal that after this night,
the last vestiges of peace they may have possessed would disappear. Uncertainty choked her every
thought. Would they be alright? Would many people die, and suffer? Would this War be over at
last?

Would *he* survive?

Yes. Yes, he would survive. She was willing to exchange her life for his safety.

Hermione sighed as she narrowed her eyes at the lights hanging everywhere, looking around with a
smile. The wedding had been very beautiful, very emotive, very... Weasley-ish, and the reception
was no different. Alcohol to get a herd of thestrals drunk, food to make a dragon feel fat, and of
course various assortments from the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Loud, happy music played by a
band she didn't know floated in the air; people of all kinds and seizes were dancing to the
beat. Ron was wearing a tux, as his brothers, and Ginny was wearing a lavender maid of honour
dress. Hermione was also wearing a formal dress, and her hair was perfectly curled for the
occasion- Molly had told her that since “she was coming with Ron” she had to look dazzling.

Coming with Ron...

As she sighed, Hermione walked over the abandoned chairs near the fairy infested trees and
heavily sat down on one of them, crossing her legs as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand.
Her eyes found Ron laughing with Charlie on the other side of the garden and her brow furrowed.
When she had arrived to the Burrow Ron had openly gaped at her, and had told her “Wow Hermione, you
look hot!” She had blushed and forced a smile at the comment. For some reason, she had not felt the
very least flattered by Ron's bluntness. In fact, she found herself wondering what Harry would
have said on her appearance.

Hermione had made many mistakes during her sixth year, she knew. She had been wrong in not
trusting Harry about Draco; she had been wrong in treating him like trash because he had archived
higher notes than her, she had been wrong about Ron... But her biggest mistake had been, actually,
letting Harry go. Beaming when he kissed Ginny... Back then, she couldn't have known what that
sensation in the pit of her stomach had been. She had thought it was happiness.

How very wrong she had been.

So she went for Ron. At the end of their fifth year, Hermione knew that she would have to keep
an eye on her feelings towards Harry. They were going out of control, and nothing went out of
control in her life; not if she could help it- Her feelings were no exception. So Hermione had
suppressed any kind of `more than friendly' feelings towards her emerald eyed friend and
carried on with her life. How could she have known that the suppression of those feelings would
have resulted in her disastrous sixth year? Trying to detach herself from Harry, to gain a little
distance, had equalled in becoming someone Draco Malfoy would have been proud of.

And, of course, there was Ron. Ron... Hermione had tried to truly love him, honestly, she had...
And that had also been a fiasco. Ron was nice person, yes, and he had loved her since their third
year, but that didn't mean that he could make her happy. His taunts had gotten hurtful over the
years, hurtful to the point that lately she felt very uncomfortable around him. Ron was too hyper,
too loud... And, if she dare say it, quite immature. Hermione still found it unbelievable that he
was envious of Harry for being famous. That insecurity complex, combined with his jealousy and
possessiveness, made Hermione recoil from him. Giving their friendship a chance to become something
more had apparently made all the flaws in their relationship dance in front of her clearly, so
clearly that it became unthinkable for Hermione to regard Ron as something more than a friend.

Hermione sighed sadly again and rubbed her eyes with her free hand, her eyes once again sweeping
the garden, and they fell on Ginny. Over the summer, Hermione had had plenty of time to analyze her
feelings and probe them. On Dumbledore's funeral, she had heard the conversation between Harry
and Ginny, and knew that they were near the break up... Ron was hugging her as she cried, and
Hermione had been quite ashamed of herself when the tears of grief mixed with tears of aching and
longing for Harry. She had been so confused. In the span of two minutes, Hermione had wished that
it was Harry holding her, instead of Ron... And she hadn't liked that sudden urge; it reminded
her of those feelings she had prohibited herself to acknowledge. Well, she had been right about
Harry and Ginny: they *had* broken up. Ginny had cried, had been mad, and had been
depressed... While Hermione had found herself with a strange sense of vindication.

And as Harry left the train station to return to his aunt and uncle, Hermione should have known.
As the days passed without a single letter from him, and anxiety consumed her, Hermione should have
guessed. She had been on the verge of paying him a very early visit on the Dursley's... How was
he doing? Was he alright? How was he feeling? Was he having a rough time accepting Dumbledore's
death? Despite all those obvious anvils, it was not before Harry actually *called* Hermione to
her house that she `realized' she was in love with him.

Yes, she loved him. She loved him so much that it hurt her... Oh, how she missed him even when
they were inches apart.

“Hermione,” someone said next to her ear, and her train of thought was broken. She blinked
quickly and her head turned to see Ron there, smiling at her. His cheeks were red.

“Hey,” she replied softly, returning the smile.

“Want to dance?” He offered, stretching his hand toward her. Hermione gazed at his hand and for
a moment wanted to tell Ron that she didn't love him, that she wanted to dance with Harry; and
incidentally, where *was* Harry? She had not seen him since the wedding ceremony.

“Sure,” she agreed quietly, and Ron grabbed her hand to drag her towards the crowd that danced
nearby. As she tried to look carefree and not dance mechanically, her eyes searched for a mop of
untidy black hair among the sea of red and brown and blonde, but there was none. What if he had
left without any warning? Harry wouldn't do that, right? Hermione bit her lip as Ron spun her
around, and as she glanced at the empty part of the garden, her heart skipped a beat. Harry was
there, leaning against a tree, staring at them dance with his hands in his pockets and an impassive
face. When he noticed her gaze, he looked away hastily.

“This is great, isn't it?” Ron suddenly asked her, slightly leaning over. Hermione stepped
away from him on reflex.

“Yeah, it is,” she replied. “Ron, goodness, how much have you drank? You could set off a fire
alarm with that breath!” She added. Ron grinned widely, spinning her around again.

“That's the idea... It's a wedding, Hermione! Lighten up!” He exclaimed. She rolled her
eyes and pried herself off from Ron's drunken grip, glancing in direction of Harry, who
didn't look away this time.

“I'm thirsty... I'll be right back, okay?” She told him. Ron nodded and kissed her
cheek, making her flinch. Forcing yet another smile Hermione whipped around and started walking
towards her other best friend, shuddering. Harry stared back at her as she neared him, still
inexpressive, unmoving... Unnerving. A smile found the way to her face as she stood in front of
him.

“Having a nice time?” Harry asked, nodding in direction of the Weasley/ Delacour
congregation.

“Not really,” Hermione honestly replied, shrugging. “Too many things inside my head...”

“I know what you mean,” he replied with a smirk, breaking the eye contact.

“And what about you?” Harry shrugged one shoulder and gave a non committal jerk of the head, but
didn't reply. Hermione sighed and leaned against the tree bark, next to Harry, and closed her
eyes for a second. “I'm sorry, Harry,” she blurted out, blushing as she stared down at her
shoes.

“Whatever for?” He wanted to know, raising his eyebrows. Hermione's brow furrowed.

“For our sixth year,” she answered, looking up at him. “I was horrible to you. To everyone,
really, but... Mostly to you.” She whispered the last part, ashamed, and looked away from those
hypnotic green eyes.

“Well, like I was any better,” came the surprising reply. Hermione sharply gazed up at Harry,
frowning slightly.

“What do you mean?” She questioned curiously. He kicked a small pebble before answering,
avoiding her eyes.

“The Draco thing, the Half Blood Prince... I should have listened to you,” he started barely
above a whisper. “Just like I should have listened to you about Sirius,” he added angrily.
Hermione's heart went out to him at these comments, but she suppressed the need to hug him. She
had to remember that Harry did not return her feelings.

“Oh, Harry... It wasn't your fault. Voldemort is not stupid, as you must know...” she
trailed off; Harry smiled.

“Yes, I've noticed,” he retorted. A silence fell upon them, and Hermione found herself
staring up at the other set of fairies adorning the tree leaves; she didn't know what to tell
him next. “Are you dating Ron?” His voice quivered slightly, with a note of urgency in it.

“No.” It sounded harsher than expected, she noticed.

“But I thought... With all your bickering and stuff...” he trailed off. Hermione snorted at
this.

“If I were to act by that kind of thing, I'd be married to Malfoy and carrying his babies,”
she told him. “Unresolved sexual tension, my bum. That `if you fight you're in love'
argument would've been fine if we were ten years old,” she added. Harry smirked.

“Ron never seemed to grow out of it, didn't he?” Hermione raised her eyebrows at this,
surprised.

“I think that this is the second time in two years that I've heard you take my side when it
comes to Ron,” she commented, blushing crimson and glancing down.

“I agree with you most of the time, you know. My pride coming in the way doesn't have
anything to with it,” Harry said softly.

“Why are you telling me this?” Hermione whispered, gazing at him. He shrugged.

“I'm leaving tonight. After this,” He said. Hermione widened her eyes at his confession,
feeling as though the ground under her feet had been removed.

“Harry- You can't- Weren't you going to tell us?” Hermione hissed, feeling wounded.

“Of course I was. It's just... Ron is drunk, first of all, and you seemed to be having a
good time with him, and I didn't want to upset you-”

“Well, I'm coming with you,” Hermione cut him off, straightening her back. Harry frowned and
turned away, running his fingers through his hair.

“You don't have to,” he muttered. Hermione grabbed his shoulders to turn him around, pushing
him against the tree roughly. She had fire in her eyes.

“Don't you dare say that, Harry Potter. Don't you dare! I'm coming with you, and
nothing's going to stop me!” She told him loudly. Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of
times, but no sound came out of it. “You mean more to me than Death Eaters, and Horcruxes, and
Voldemort- I neglected you for a whole year, and I'm not about to make that mistake again!
I'm not going to leave you alone, not now, not ne-”

And that was when Harry interrupted her with a kiss.

It wasn't soft, it wasn't gentle, and it wasn't sweet. It was a rough kiss, filled
with urgency and need; a kiss of one so desperate, looking for reassurance and safety... Harry
cupped her cheeks to bring her closer, and she didn't refuse. She might be surprised by his
action, but she still knew that she certainly didn't object to it. And yet, before she could
begin enjoying the kiss, it ended. Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes and saw Harry's wide,
scared eyes; he removed his hands as quickly as if her skin had burnt them.

“I'm sorry-” he breathed, stepping away from her.

“Harry-”

“I'm so sorry,” he repeated, whipping around and walking away quickly. Hermione scowled and
followed him, but the closer she got the faster he walked; away from the party, away from the
lights and the warmth, and into the darkness.

“Harry James Potter, stop!” Hermione ordered, managing to grab his sleeve. As if hit by a
*Petrificus Totalus* he halted and waited, his back still to her. In one swift movement
Hermione moved to face him, but Harry wouldn't meet her eyes. “Harry, look at me.”

“I can't,” he croaked. Before Hermione could utter a response, he jerked away from her. “I-
Hermione, I can't let you- I won't allow you to get involved in this.”

“Well, it's too late. It was too late from the moment you saved me from the troll,” she
replied. He shook his head.

“This is different,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Is it, Harry? Pray tell, what is the difference? *I* won't allow *you* to push me
away. It would be a waste of time that we don't have!” Hermione told him, stepping closer to
him. Harry glared at her.

“You don't get it, do you?”

“What?”

“Why I broke up with Ginny.”

Hermione blinked at this, and Harry smirked again at her silence.

“Well, I believe she didn't want to leave you alone, either,” Hermione bitterly said.

“You're wrong,” Harry said. “At first she didn't want to, yes. Then she just...
*accepted* it, shall we say?”

“I don't understand,” Hermione said, her brow furrowing. “What does this have to do
with-”

“It was you,” Harry growled.

“Excuse me?”

“She isn't you. She didn't force me to see that she'd never leave- She didn't
try to- to coax me out of my playing the hero role!” Harry told her, blushing at the mention of his
greatest flaw. Hermione suddenly felt like crying. Of course- Harry still loved Ginny, and he was
just frustrated because she wouldn't be going with him on the Horcrux hunt. She should've
known. That kiss had not meant anything.

“I see.” Hermione managed to say, trying to seem calm and collected. The searing pain across her
chest was, needless to say, not helping.

“No, you don't see,” Harry said in a low voice. “Don't you get it, Hermione? I was
expecting her to be like you. I expected her to show the same loyalty as you do, even if I'm
not worthy of it... I *wanted* her to be you.” Harry grabbed Hermione's shoulders,
squeezing them. “I couldn't see it back then. I needed her to be you; I was waiting to see in
Ginny what you are. That's why I broke up with her, you're the reason- Because she
wasn't my Hermione,” he whispered, boring his eyes into hers. Now it was Hermione's time to
look like a fish, searching for the words inside her head, but her brain had apparently decided to
lock down at his confession. This couldn't be real, this had to be a dream- There was no other
logical explanation as to why this was happening to her.

“I-”

“I want- I *need* you, Hermione,” Harry cut her off, his voice shaking. “I know that
it's probably too late, but I don't care. I may be dead tomorrow, so you might as well know
how I feel about you...” he trailed off, swallowing. “And I don't care if you don't feel
the same way; I completely understand. Just don't- don't... Don't shun away from me,
please.”

Somewhere along those lines, Hermione's eyes had blurred with tears. She would be never able
to describe how she was feeling right now- she felt as though she had just swallowed the sun, or
had fallen asleep on a cloud; maybe, simply because she felt so immensely elated, she found herself
crying on Harry's chest uncontrollably.

“Oh Harry, you idiot,” Hermione sobbed, gazing at him and grabbing his cheeks softly, as if she
feared that he would fade into thin air, “It's never too late.” Harry gulped, and a shy smile
began to tug at the corner of his lips.

“Does this mean... Do you...” His voice was thick with emotion. Hermione nodded; her lower lip
shaking as she smiled.

“Yes, Harry... I do.” It was amazing how hard it was for her to speak, how hard it was to convey
and put down in words everything she was feeling...

“I- I'm so- Hermione...” He seemed to be having the same problem as her, so she spared him
the torture of trying to explain his feelings through his voice with a kiss.

It wasn't soft, it wasn't gentle, and it wasn't sweet. It was a passionate kiss,
dripping comfort and faithfulness; a kiss of one so devoted, offering love and a safe shelter for
the rainy days to come.

The kiss deepened quickly...

Meanwhile, in the very heart of London, down in the Department of Mysteries, the door that was
locked at all times, which contained that force that it was as once more wonderful and more
terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature, suddenly unlocked itself with
a discreet dry sound.

-+-

A/N: Well, there it is. I hope that you liked it as much as I liked writing it, or at least
found it enjoyable... I have my doubts about the ending, but, to me, it just seemed to fit. This
story was originally intended as a one shot, but I'm trying to make it a long fic- tell me if
you want me to continue or not. I hope that you'll let me know what you thought of my story by
reviewing! Pretty please?

Bye, and thanks for reading!

-->



2. The Graveyard
----------------



The Graveyard

A/N: Well, first of all, thank you all for those wonderful reviews. They encouraged me to try
and make it a long fic... Let's see where it takes me... I've never tried writing
adventure/action, so I hope that you'll like it. Without further ado, here's chapter
two!

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own anything- Save for the plot.

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Harry snapped his eyes opened and broke the kiss, looking perplexed.

“Did you feel that?” He asked, slightly breathless. Hermione frowned and discovered with much
surprise that her hands were locked around his neck.

“No... What was it?” She asked, suddenly concerned. “Is it Voldemort?” She added in a whisper.
Harry shook his head slowly, wondering what he had indeed felt. It had been as though he had just
received an answer for a question he had been born asking. Why now? Why precisely on that
moment?

“No... It was something else... Like... Like an echo or something...” He tried to explain.

“An echo?”

“Yeah, sort of... Can't explain...” He rubbed his scar absentmindedly, not able to identify
that strange sensation, that lightening of understanding; for a split second, everything had been
so clear and flawless in his head... Hermione glanced at him worriedly, biting her lower lip.

“So what do we do next?” She questioned. He knew what she was referring to.

“Let's go now,” he replied. Hermione let out a long sigh and nodded.

“Where are we going? And what about Ron?”

“I... Well, before I started searching for the Horcruxes I had planned...” He blushed as he
trailed off; when had been the last time he had blushed in front of Hermione?

“Visiting your parent's graves,” Hermione completed gently. “I remember. If you want to be
alone, I'll stay here with the Weasleys,” she told him with a smile. Harry shook his head again
and returned the smile.

“If it isn't a problem for you... Well... I wouldn't mind the company,” he said barely
above a whisper, making Hermione beam at him. “As for Ron, let's wait until tomorrow or
something. We certainly can't take him with us if he's pissed,” he said.

“Right then. Let me get my wand and we'll be off. We're not telling anyone, aren't
we?”

“They'll stall us. We'll be back, in any case...”

“That's what I thought.” And with that Hermione turned around and ran in direction of the
Burrow, her hair bouncing behind her. Harry stared at her go and ran his fingers through his hair,
still swallowing the idea that she loved him back. As he started walking, he pondered on how the
thought of Ron and Hermione being a couple now seemed like a distant nightmare... Ron hadn't
been able to make her happy, after all... Harry stopped dead in his tracks at this thought. What
*were* they going to tell Ron? He didn't want to lose his best friend... Would he
understand?

Almost unconsciously his feet carried him towards the party, and thorough the Burrow's
living room, and to the front door, where Hermione was waiting for him patiently. She was wearing a
coat over her dress, and the tip of her wand peeked out of one of the front pockets. She smiled at
him, he smiled back, and they joined hands before opening the door and stepping outside the house.
Neither of them spoke a word as the door that lead to what could possibly be the last moment of
untainted peace they had shared together closed behind them. An odd sense of loss gripped Harry, as
he stared at the door, but the warmness coming from Hermione's hand provided him with all the
comfort he needed.

And so in silence they started walking to the nearest apparition point, under the starry sky.
The sound coming from the party slowly dimmed until it couldn't be heard anymore; only the
sounds of the night accompanied them through the deserted street. Hermione sighed as she stole a
glance at Harry.

“You've changed, Harry,” she stated barely above a whisper, avoiding looking at him.

“For good or bad?”

“For good. It's just... Well... The things you told me tonight... The way you acted...”
Hermione felt too embarrassed to tell him how much older and mature he had looked in that lonely
spot of the garden.

“You've also grown, Hermione,” Harry replied, and now she did look at him, surprised. “I
guess that Dumbledore's... His... death... showed me that there are so many bigger things in
life than snogging and fooling around...” He told her, frowning. “There are more important things.
Things that are worth fighting for, you know?” Hermione also sighed, squeezing his hand.

“What things?” She wanted to know. He shrugged.

“You. Ron, Lupin, the whole Weasley family... Whatever,” he mumbled awkwardly. Hermione
smiled.

“Love in general, you mean?” She said as they rounded a corner, getting nearer to the hill
overlooking the town where Ron lived. She wasn't even sure if they were about to apparate
anymore- They just kept on walking, talking, being with each other; wanting to make up for the
times they had lost last year.

“Yeah... Among other things...” Harry finally agreed. They kept on climbing up the hill for a
while, until they halted before a short and slightly shrivelled tree, and Harry sat down, waiting
for her to do the same. She did. From where they were sitting they couldn't see the entire
town, but among what they could glimpse, the Burrow stood out from the other houses nearby.

“Do you think he'll notice we aren't there?” Hermione asked in a soft voice, nodding in
direction of the Burrow.

“He's too drunk.” Harry simply replied, staring straight into the black, clean sky. Hermione
rested her cheek on his shoulder, following his gaze into the heavens.

“How do you think he'll take the news?” Hermione questioned, a cold feeling in her stomach.
Ron would go mental... But if she ever had to make a choice between the two, she knew perfectly
well where her loyalties lied.

“You know Ron. He'll get angry; he'll make a scene...”

“Why are you so mad at him?” Hermione asked, amused. Harry turned crimson, and only answered
when she started poking his ribs playfully. “You can tell me, you know. I won't laugh.”

“Because he got to act on his feelings for you before I did,” he muttered at last, looking at
the grass. “I mean... It's not like I- Well... It's hard to explain,” he blabbered, ripping
out some strands of grass. He didn't want Hermione to think that he regarded her as a
trophy.

“Then I feel the same way towards Ginny,” Hermione offered, coming closer to him. Harry
snorted.

“This summer, for some reason, I remembered the first time that I saw her, when we were eleven,”
he started. Hermione tilted her head sideways, waiting for him to continue. “She only paid
attention to me when Mrs. Weasley told her I was, oh *dear*, Harry Potter,” he said with a
sardonic smirk. “That memory made me wonder... If nobody had told her who I was, would she have
loved me like she told me she did?” Hermione noticed the trace of bitterness in his voice, so she
grabbed his hands again in an attempt to comfort him.

“I don't know, Harry,” she answered truthfully. “Would you have wanted her to?”

“No, and yes,” he replied. “No, because she never truly loved me; but I can't say much about
that, because I never did either- She was a distraction. Something that proved to me that I'm
still a teenager and allowed to do teenage stuff... She was ideal back then, because I needed that
type of `romance' last year. You know: nothing deep, nothing complex... Nothing behind it.” He
explained. “And yes, because it would've been nice to think that I'm worth loving, and
it's not just my name that which is lovable...” He lowered his head as he admitted this last
part, and Harry couldn't help but wonder why he was bearing his soul to Hermione like he was
doing now- Why tonight? What was so different from any other night, or day?

“Harry...” Hermione found herself wanting to tell him how she was feeling, but it sounded like
something Pansy Parkinson would say: `oh, well, I always knew she was a fangirl. I've always
loved you because of who you are, unlike Ginny...' But there was a need inside of her, an
aching need to tell him everything while she still had the chance... Some force she couldn't
fight obliging her to confess everything... “I love you. To me, you always were Harry. Just
Harry...” Hermione blurted out; her cheeks and neck turning red as she saw him smile.

“I love you, too.” Just like that, said so simply, but not lightly. Those four sacred words;
words that had been repeated and spoken by almost every single human being around the world from
the beginnings of humanity, and yet, Hermione felt like it was the first time she ever heard them.
A silence fell over them, a silence full of sounds, crickets and breezes and rushing leaves, but
nothing more. “It's three thirty,” Harry suddenly stated, glancing at his watch. “I think we
better get on the move.” Hermione blinked at this, startled out of that cozy spot with Harry, and
nodded as she stood up with the help of his hand.

“Okay. You'll have to guide me there, I'm afraid.” She told him, gripping his arm
tightly. Harry breathed in a closed his eyes, closely followed by Hermione, and with a `crack'
they vanished from that hill to reappear in another lone street, in what appeared to be a very
small and old town. There was no sound or no sight of movement anywhere. Hermione nervously gripped
her wand through the fabric of her coat; there was not a house nearby. “Harry?” She whispered,
staring at the dirty road frightfully. It was good that there wasn't any mist, because anyone
would've thought that they were standing in front of Voldemort's unplotabble house.

“We're near the graveyard,” Harry whispered back. “That's why there's nothing
around. C'mon,” he added, grabbing her hand as they lurched out of the shadowy sidewalk, and
further up the street. Hermione pressed herself against Harry almost unconsciously, looking around
her apprehensively. What could spring out of the shadows that surrounded them? Their footsteps,
muffled by the dirt, resounded in the night loudly... Hermione glanced at the end of the street and
narrowed her eyes, trying to bring into focus those big, black blobs in the short distance.

“Is this it?” she asked barely above a whisper. Harry agreed with his head as they continued
walking. Nettles, vines and hedgerows wound themselves on an old and slightly rusty gate that went
on to cover the whole block; the entrance to the graveyard was ajar. Harry gulped and Hermione
squeezed his arm at this, biting her lower lip. The sight was creepy. Maybe it was just because it
was nearly four in the morning and the moonlight bathed the place, but the crooked branches
resembled long, pointed, menacing fingers. They both stopped moving at the entrance gate, and
Hermione could almost sense Harry's discomfort. “Well, go in,” she prompted.

“I'm not leaving you alone here,” he argued, but Hermione knew that he wanted to do this
alone- she wasn't about to intrude into his privacy.

“I'll put a Disillusionment charm on myself; I'll be alright.” She reassured him. Harry
hesitated at this, stuck between the guilt of leaving her alone and the need to be alone for what
he was going to do. “Go on- I'll wait here.” She urged, pulling her wand out of her pocket.
Without further ado she rapped her head with it and shivered as the charm slithered down,
transforming her into a sort of human chameleon. Harry stared at the spot where Hermione stood,
slightly disconcerted with the fact that she was there but he could see right through her- She must
have moved, because for a split second he noticed her silhouette.

“Right then... Don't move too much. If anything happens, just scream.” She didn't move
again, or speak, so Harry breathed in deeply and went through the gate and into the graveyard. The
place was apparently empty, and it was reasonably well kept. It went out for miles, or so it seemed
on that night... He wondered where his parent's graves were? He couldn't go checking on
every tomb, it would be a waste of time, and Hermione was still alone at the graveyard gates. As he
glanced around, narrowing his eyes at the faded stones surrounding him, he felt it again. That
upsurge of energy, of power- And everything was clear again.

His feet started moving quickly, past the tombs and the mausoleums, past the broken angels
adorning the oldest graves, and into the darkest part of the graveyard. As Harry continued moving,
urged by that bizarre force, he noticed that this part had certainly had be forsaken; the grass was
dying, yellow, dry; the tombs were cracked, and there were open holes here and there; he hoped that
they were empty. At last his footsteps faltered and slowed down at the sight of two adjacent tombs,
partially hidden beneath the dirt and the grass.

Harry kneeled down in front of the rain washed stone and a lump formed in his throat when he
read the inscriptions embossed in the stone: the names of his parents, and the dates of their birth
and death. There was nothing else, because it really wasn't needed. Harry brushed some dead
leaves off his mother's tomb and straightened up again, putting his hands in his pockets. A
mixture of melancholy and affection plagued his eyes as the restful silence enveloped him.

“Hello, mom, dad.” he started, not know how to exactly transmit how he was feeling. “I... I
wanted to see you, before I start looking for Horcruxes... Pieces of Voldemort's soul, in case
you don't know. I guess... I just wanted to see... Just wanted to know how you two are doing,”
he muttered, blushing slightly. “I'm doing okay. I came with Hermione- she's not here;
she's at the entrance, waiting for me. You know, mom, dad, I really do love her. She's my
best friend; she'll always be. The line from friendship to something more wasn't painful to
cross, I must admit.” Harry said, smiling. “She told me she loves me, too, and I'm so happy. I
need her so much; she has helped me so many times- more than I have helped her, in any case.”

Silence. A hesitant smile.

“Tell Sirius and Dumbledore that I miss them too, if they're there with you.”

He kneeled one last time in front of the graves and again brushed the cold gray surfaces, with a
long sigh.

“I have to go now,” he whispered, standing up. “I'll return, someday. I promise.”

And with that Harry turned around and began walking back towards the gates, feeling strangely
hollow. A warm and soft breeze began blowing as he moved, accompanying him through the graveyard.
Harry closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, sensing the summer scent in that breeze; it held a
sort of loving aura about it... Maybe the visit to his parents had heightened his sensitivity...
Sooner of what he thought he could distinguish the hedgerows and the gates, and his pace quickened.
Warily he neared the place where he had left Hermione, taking his wand out for security measures,
but the breeze gave him confidence.

“Hermione?” He whispered.

“I'm here,” She replied at his left, and as she moved Harry once more noticed the outline of
her wand on her head. Seconds after Hermione stood smiling at him, looking slightly punch drunk.
The consistent breeze made her curls fly in every direction.

“Are you alright?” Harry wanted to know, examining her closely. She nodded.

“It's this breeze,” she started softly. “It feels like I'm smelling Amortentia...” she
trailed off. Harry raised his eyebrows, surprised at this answer, and reached out for her hand.

“Let's go back to the Burrow,” he suggested. Hermione agreed with her head and they started
walking again in silence, and the more they distanced themselves from the graveyard, the gentler
the breeze became, until it finally died down somewhere near the place where they had first
apparated.

“How was it?” Hermione finally asked, referring to the visit. Harry shrugged.

“Fine, I guess. It felt... weird. But good weird.”

“I see...”

“Thank you for coming with me,” Harry told her, turning to gaze at her. She stood on the tip of
her toes so she could kiss him, communicating him through her lips how happy she was that he
trusted her enough to accompany him here. After their sixth year, Hermione felt like she had to
thank him.

“Anytime,” she breathed when they parted, locking her arms around his as they positioned
themselves in the right spot to disapparate. “Oh, Harry, and one more thing.” she suddenly said,
breaking their concentration.

“What is it?”

“Sorry about not telling you this before, but you *are* worth my loyalty.”

-+-

A/N: Well, there it is- The second chapter. I hope you liked it... If you feel like reviewing,
that would be lovely. Feedback is most appreciated!

-->



3. R.A.B
--------



R.A.B

A/N: Hello there! Thank you for your reviews- I'm very happy that you like this story.

Disclaimer: Nah. Only the plot.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

The stillness of the air was broken by a gentle morning breeze, sweeping over the hill and
Ottery St. Catchpole. Faded pink and purplish streaks announced that the sun was rising, as Harry
and Hermione reappeared in the very same spot they had left hours ago. Hermione grinned at the
horizon and breathed in deeply; she loved the fresh, new, clean air that sunrises brought. It was
so peaceful... Harry's arm sneaked around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him, and he
kissed her temple.

It was simple surreal to think that hours and hours ago they had thought they were just friends-
that neither of them knew what the true feelings of the other person were. There had been no drama,
no fit of tears, no anguish...

And that was only a part of why it was so perfect.

“We should head back,” Hermione suddenly said, breaking the silence. Harry grimaced at this.

“Must we? Can't be just owl Ron to tell him where we are?” he asked.

“You know we can't do such thing, Harry... What about the rest of the Weasleys?” Hermione
replied, frowning slightly.

“I don't like saying goodbye to people,” Harry mumbled. Hermione squeezed his arm at this,
smiling warmly.

“But you won't be alone. Come on- The sooner the better,” she told him, starting to walk
down the hill and dragging Harry with her. Truth to be told, she wasn't too excited to face Ron
or Ginny either, but for reasons completely different to the Horcrux hunt. Hermione doubted that
the Weasley family, however nice they were, would understand why she had chosen Harry and not Ron.
Had Rita Skeeter been right about her, after all, back in fourth year? What if everybody thought
she had cheated on Ron with Harry? Hermione couldn't care less about what strangers thought,
but she *did* care about her other best friend, and about Ginny, who despite being a fangirl
was Hermione's best female friend...

“What's wrong?” Harry's clear voice broke her train of thought. Hermione blinked and
realized that they were already a block away from the Burrow.

“Ron,” Hermione simply said. Harry sighed and placed his arm around her waist, making
Hermione's skin tingle.

“He'll have to understand,” he said seriously. “He'll come around.”

“I hope so...” Hermione trailed off, letting her hands wound themselves around Harry's arm.
It felt so natural, so comfortable to be like this to him, so close, walking on that lone street.
Hermione's thoughts again landed on their fourth year, and smiled widely when she recalled what
Rita's article had said. For the future's sake, she should do a mental note of pasting that
piece of the newspaper to her diary or something...

“What's up?” Harry wanted to know, also smiling.

“Well, I was thinking about that article that was published about our supposed love affair, and
that I should give some credit to Rita Skeeter,” Hermione responded, grinning when she saw Harry
widen his eyes in horror.

“What?? Give credit to that- that... What for?” he spluttered.

“She said the right things in the wrong time,” Hermione retorted smugly. “I'm not sure about
the scarlet woman thing, though.”

“You always played with Ron's feelings, and mine by default!” Harry replied dramatically.
“Don't you dare deny so!” Hermione giggled at this for some reason; wondering why was she
feeling so elated acting like a twelve year old with Harry. She *never* giggled.

“Viktor never told me anything about the article, though,” Hermione mused. As they turned around
the corner, Harry snorted.

“Maybe not to you- *I* had to endure The Talk,” Harry admitted. Hermione raised her
eyebrows at this new scrap of information.

“What did he tell you?” She asked curiously. Harry shrugged.

“He wanted to know if there `*vas'* something between Hermy-own-ninny and me,” He
answered, making Hermione grin wildly. “He believed you talked too much about me,” Harry added,
turning to grin back at Hermione, puffing out his chest mockingly.

“Now don't you start to gloat, Mr. Potter, or I'll reconsider,” Hermione told him with a
smirk.

“Funny thing is, I thought they were both delusional when it came to us,” Harry confessed.

“And Cho was a tad bit militant, as well,” Hermione commented. “But I'll give it to them,
too- their delusions were pretty accurate in the end,” she said.

“I'll say,” Harry agreed, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. Hermione was about to grab
his face to pull him over for a more heated kiss when-

“Where *have* you been?!” A shriek made them jump out of their skins. Harry and Hermione
looked ahead and nearly winced when they saw a fuming Molly Weasley standing in front of the
Burrow's door, wand out and all. “We thought- You could've been kidnapped! You could've
been killed!” She exclaimed.

“Please, Mrs. Weasley-” Hermione started, but was quickly cut off by Molly.

“And without as much as a warning- Half of the Order was about to start looking for you
two-”

“We're sorry, Molly,” Harry interrupted her. “I had some business to attend to, and Hermione
came with me.” he explained. Maybe they should be more assertive towards Mrs. Weasley, but he
really didn't feel like elaborating.

“Some business to attend to?” Molly repeated, outraged. “Was it so important that it
couldn't wait until it was daytime, at least?” she questioned. Before either Harry or Hermione
could speak, she pointed her wand at the doorknob. “Inside. Now.” She ordered without looking at
them, plainly trying to calm down. Harry sighed as he strode over to the door, and Hermione was
beginning to regret convincing him to come here again.

As they walked through the living room everything was very silent and tranquil; something quite
strange when it came to Ron's house. When they entered the kitchen they found Mr. Weasley
sitting on the table, writing on a piece of parchment; he immediately looked up at the sudden noise
and his features relaxed.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” he said with a tired smile. “Are you two alright?”

“Yes, Mr. Weasley. Thank you,” Hermione replied. “We apologize for leaving without telling
you.”

“Well, I trust you two won't do it again,” Arthur said, rising from the chair he was sitting
on. “Now that you are both here, alive and kicking, I may get some sleep. Excuse me...” He added
with a yawn, smiling at them one last time before disappearing through the nearby stairs. Harry
gazed meaningfully at Hermione, who sighed.

“I know, I know,” she told him, slightly annoyed. “We shouldn't have returned.” At this
Harry raised his eyebrows, surprised.

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to go to bed,” he told her. Hermione raised her right
eyebrow at his comment and half smiled.

“Don't you think we'll be rushing things?”

“What?” Harry asked, puzzled, and as he understood what Hermione meant, his cheeks turned into a
healthy shade of red. “Oh- That- Well, I didn't mean it that way-”

“I know, silly,” Hermione cut him off. The idea of sleeping with Harry had crossed her mind a
couple of times, truth to be told, but she didn't think that it was a good idea right now- Too
full of Weasleys... Besides, it was so- so *cute* to see Harry blush and stutter over the
idea. “But no, I'm not really sleepy yet... What about you?”

“A bit, but not quite enough. Let's sit on the couch,” he suggested, leading her to the
nearest couch and plopping down on it heavily. Hermione smiled and rested her head on his lap,
stretching out her legs so they hung from the arm of the couch, closing her eyes. Harry grinned and
started running his fingers gently through her now wilted curls.

It was safe in that living room: there was no Voldemort, no Horcruxes, no Ron, no Ginny... There
was only Harry, Hermione, and the silence... They didn't want to get up from there, no...
Never...

“Harry?” Hermione whispered, not daring to completely break that cozy atmosphere they were
submerged in.

“Mmm.”

“Where are we going after this?” she wanted to know, yawning. Harry's fingers didn't
stop running through her hair, and she took that as a good sign.

“I don't know,” he responded with a heavy voice. “I don't know where to start.”

“We should go to Grimmauld Place,” Hermione stated. Now Harry's fingers did stop moving, and
she sensed his discomfort.

“No.” Just like that, deadpan. At this, Hermione straightened up on the couch, facing him.

“I think I know who R.A.B is,” she blurted out. Harry's eyes widened.

“Who?” His tone was urgent, amazed. Hermione bit her lower lip.

“Well, I think- Remember Sirius had a brother?”

“Yeah, the death eater one... But what does he have to do with anything?” he asked,
frowning.

“Sirius said that he was killed because he wanted to back out,” Hermione said. “But what if he
knew something else? Something he didn't have to know about?” she told him. At her intense gaze
wheels started to turn inside Harry's head, trying to remember what the paper inside the locket
said- *“... but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the
real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can...”* “R.A.B stole the Horcrux...” Harry
muttered, and Hermione grinned.

“Regulus A. Black!” she squeaked. Harry's mouth fell slightly open.

“But he stole the Horcrux, and wrote that he'd destroy it as soon as he could-” Hermione
nodded eagerly at this.

“But what if he never got to destroy it? What if he hid it in the one place no one would look
in?” Hermione gushed excitedly. Harry's mind was racing, trying to see the connection- Hermione
had said that they should return to Grimmauld Place; Sirus's brother; but they had already
cleaned the house-

“The locket!” Harry breathed as this thought hit him like a slap in the face. Hermione beamed at
him.

“None of us could open it, remember?” she said. Harry was still processing the fact that they
now knew where the next Horcrux was- He looked over at Hermione, who was grinning widely, and
hugged her tightly.

“Harry! What-” Hermione was cut off by Harry's laughter as he lifted her up in the air,
still hugging her, and spun her around. He felt so happy, so excited, and so grateful and relieved.
She couldn't understand.

“I love you,” he told her huskily, kissing her fully on the mouth. Hermione widened her eyes at
the power he was transmitting through his lips, but soon enough she started to return it with equal
force. Harry didn't need to explain the reason for his happiness, he needn't worry that she
wouldn't understand- she already knew.

A loud, crashing sound reverberated on the living room, making Harry and Hermione spring apart
guiltily, as though struck by a lightening; they had briefly forgotten that they were still in the
Burrow. They both turned around to spot the source of the noise, and Hermione winced while Harry
paled slightly.

A fuming, red, blistering Ron glared at them from the kitchen table; not bothering to even look
at the plates lying broken at his feet.

-+-+-

A/N: And that's that, for this chapter. I hoped you liked it, and I hope you'll let me
know what you though of it by reviewing! Until next chapter!

-->



4. Confrontation
----------------



Confrontation

A/N: Hello! Thank you so much for your reviews! They make my day. I'm so happy you like this
story! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: Nope. Nothing. Zero. Save for the plot.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

None of them said anything; they heard the birds chirping outside and they saw sunlight
streaming through the windows. Ron's hair was tussled, he was in his pajamas; Hermione was
still wearing the dress and Harry the tux. No, they didn't say anything at first- they just
stared at each other.

“So. So...” Ron started; even his voice sounded uptight.

“Ron...” Hermione trailed off, biting her lower lip. Ron nodded, his face inexpressive, and
raised his eyebrows. This calm reaction was, actually, far scarier than any other he may have
had.

“How does it feel to betray me, Harry?” he asked just as calmly. “How does it feel to stab your
best friend on the back? Good?”

“I did no such thing,” Harry answered through gritted teeth, his hands turning into fists.

“And what about you, Hermione? Must feel nice to cheat, right? Must make you feel desirable...”
Hermione's mouth fell slightly open at this, and felt Harry stiffen even more next to her. She
grabbed his arm and mutely told him to calm down; they'd be exploding glasses next...

“What are you implying, Ron?” Hermione wanted to know, trying to remain cool and rational.

“I'm not implying anything... I don't need to.” Harry let out a growl of rage and lunged
towards Ron, fists raised, but Hermione managed to hold him back. However much Ron deserved it, a
fist fight wasn't the way out-

“Let me go, I'll kill him,” Harry hissed.

“Harry, please, this is not the right way-” Hermione panted, pulling him back by his coat; Ron
smirked.

“That's right, Harry, hit me; after all, I deserve being punched for not realizing earlier
that Hermione always loved having lots of, ehem, different wands to grab...”

Harry let out a howl. Hermione blinked and instantly let go of Harry, who threw himself over Ron
and lifted him by the collar of his pajamas, slamming him against the kitchen wall.

“Say something like that again and you'll regret it, Ron, I swear,” Harry warned him.
“Apologize to her!” he roared, tightening his grip around Ron's collar, raising him inches
higher... Ron turned to a shade of puce Uncle Vernon would've been proud of and pushed Harry
away from him harshly.

“*You* should be apologizing to *me*, you bloody bastard!” Ron exclaimed, pointing at
him.

“Ron!” Hermione cut in, scandalized.

“Stay out of this, Hermione,” Ron replied in a dangerously low voice, his eyes still fixed on
Harry.

“Don't patronize me!” She said loudly.

“Hermione, would you mind giving us a few minutes?” Harry asked her, looking back at Ron with
equal anger. Hermione frowned, opened her mouth to protest and then decided against it; she'd
have her own talk with Ron afterwards. And so, without further ado, she walked out of the kitchen
and up the stairs, like Arthur had done earlier. As soon as her steps couldn't be heard
anymore, Ron finally lost it.

“Why did you have to go after her?! The one thing I wanted! The only thing *you knew* I
wanted!” He exclaimed, making Harry's blood boil.

“Hermione is *not* a trophy, Ron! She isn't an object, she's a person, and a damn
great one as well!” he spat back. Ron got redder, if such thing was still possible.

“She was *mine*! *I* got her first!” he accused. Harry, for a couple of seconds,
wondered if Ron was hearing himself and actually meaning it.

“What, are we running a race now? And she's the price, isn't she? The one thing I
couldn't get?” Harry retorted heatedly. “Well, let me enlighten you on some points: I never
wanted to compete with you, did you ever realize that? It was never about `who would get the girl
first'-”

“Are you going somewhere with this?” Ron cut him off.

“You don't deserve her!” Harry stated. “She was -and is- first and foremost, our best
friend! It's about time you start acting like you actually care for her-”

“I care about her-”

“What a nice way you have of showing it! Did you care for her when you made her cry on the Yule
Ball? When you bring her down because she gets good notes, but then everything's okay when she
helps *you* get high grades? Or even better, when you just recently called her a tart?” Harry
shot back. “I could go on and on!”

“I have loved her since third year!” Ron said. “You- You're just on the rebound!” he
added.

“Oh Ron, stop it. You'll have an aneurism.” someone snapped; Hermione had returned, and few
times in his life had Harry seen her look so livid.

“What about my sister?” Ron spluttered, gazing back at Harry.

“Ginny is well aware that we broke up. This does not concern her in any way.” he responded
icily. Before Ron had a chance to speak, Hermione stepped forwards resolutely.

“Harry, would you mind?” she asked. Harry, still breathing heavily from his outburst, seemed to
hesitate for a few seconds but then nodded, turning around and, instead of going to the stairs,
went out to the garden. Ron didn't meet Hermione's eyes. “I can't say I'm surprised
with your reaction, to be honest,” she started coldly. “Explain yourself.”

“Oh, I'm sorry if I don't live up to your expectations- That's always me, isn't
it? Stupid Ron Weasley, never as perfect as Harry Potter,” he retorted bitterly.

“No one has ever expected you to be like him, you know, save for yourself...” Hermione trailed
off, and felt a sense of triumph when she saw his face; served him right. “We like you for who you
are.”

“Couldn't have liked me very much, as you cheated on me with Harry,” Ron said.

“Harry already told you that he didn't betray you, just like I didn't cheat on you. We
were not dating, Ron.” Hermione retorted, keeping her anger and shock at check- It hurt to hear Ron
say those things.

“Yes, we were!”

“No, we weren't!” Hermione replied shrilly. “What Harry and Ginny did, *that* was
dating, Ronald! I must've missed the time when you asked me to go to Hogsmeade as your date, or
asked me to be your girlfriend!” she argued, her cheeks turning red. Ron frowned at this,
apparently at loss for what to say; either that or he hadn't understood what Hermione had just
said.

“But- But- Hermione! I thought it was obvious!” he said, his frown deepening. Hermione pursed
her lips, her eyebrows knitting in puzzlement.

“What was?” she questioned.

“That I fancied you! Wasn't it obvious??” Ron asked.

“Um...”

“Oh, c'mon- All the bickering and that... When I fought with you about Krum... When I got
offended when you beamed at Harry in Potions...” Ron explained incredulously. Hermione smacked her
lips together, attempting not to smile scornfully at Ron's definition of romance.

“All our bickering is just that, Ron... Bickering.” she carefully told him. “We never could have
worked.”

“Yes, yes we could have- We still can!” Ron said, stepping nearer to her.

“No,” Hermione said. “I'm sorry that I lead you on this past year- I really am. I
should've accepted my feelings for Harry, instead of indulging your hopes...” she trailed off.
Ron raised his right eyebrow at this.

“Since when you've liked Harry?” he demanded. Hermione sighed and looked down.

“Fifth year,” she mumbled, staring again at Ron defiantly.

“Fifth year?!” he echoed. “I thought- I thought that what you had with Harry was a one
night-”

Ron was fiercely cut out by Hermione's palm as she slapped him just like she had slapped
Malfoy all those years ago; with the same outrage and disbelief... Except that now they were tears
shining in her eyes, tears full of pain and hurt.

“How dare you!” Hermione shrieked, as Ron touched the red imprint of Hermione's hand on his
cheek. “I thought you were our friend! I thought that six years of friendship would overcome this!”
she said with a shaky voice. “We are in the middle of a War- I wouldn't like to lose you over a
stupid thing like this, and I'm sure that Harry feels the same.” she ended, shaking her head.
Ron's brow furrowed and he looked down and away, but did not answer. He was still touching his
cheek... At the lack of answer, Hermione huffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Alright then,” she started. “Harry and I are going to Grimmauld Place; we'll be there for a
while-” Hermione interrupted herself, thinking about the Horcrux, and wondered if she should ask
Harry first if they should tell Ron about it... Maybe Harry was too mad with Ron to want him to
come with them... “And- And that's it.” she added lamely. Ron nodded imperceptibly, but
didn't give any other sign of acknowledgement, so Hermione frowned again and simply walked out
of the house and into the garden, where she spotted Harry sitting under the tree, were they had
first kissed.

The garden was littered with confetti, plastic glasses, multicoloured streamers; patches of
grass were missing in the spots people had most danced on... Seeing Harry sitting there alone,
staring at the air with a lost look, amid the debris of the party; the soft morning light and the
morning breeze, and the fact that they may have just lost Ron made Hermione's eyes brim with
tears again. Slowly she walked up to him, trying not to imagine Harry facing the same panorama of
finality, but at the end of the War... At the sight of her face Harry immediately stood up, a look
of concern in his eyes.

“Hey,” he softly said, brushing her cheek with his hand. He always had had trouble when it came
to handling crying girls, but with her... He knew her so well that he simply knew how to handle
her. Hermione shook her head, closing her eyes, and buried herself in Harry's chest without a
word, encircling her arms around his waist. Harry sighed and hugged her, resting his chin upon her
head. “It'll be alright, love, you'll see,” he told her barely above a whisper, at loss for
anything else to say. Despite all the animosity he felt towards Ron right now, the sadness that he
had been like a brother to Harry still remained.

“You had never called me `love' before,” Hermione stated the obvious, her voice muffled.
Harry grinned at this.

“Would you like me to stop?” Hermione shook her head against his chest and moments after she
remerged, her cheeks covered in thin, black tear trails.

“Did you... Did you hear everything?” she questioned shakily. Harry nodded.

“Almost. I left when you slapped him...” he responded. “Have you really loved me since fifth
year?” He asked timidly, as though not daring to hope. Hermione allowed a small smile to show at
this question and agreed with her head. “We could've had a year...” Harry added. Hermione's
smile widened at this and she shook her head no.

“Harry, you didn't need me in *that* way last year... That was a step you had to take
alone, I believe. Had you needed me -like you needed Ginny- last year, then you would've
realized how you felt for me sooner,” Hermione replied. Harry raised his eyebrows at her answer,
and used his thumb to rub out the make-up lines down her face.

“Maybe...” he trailed off. “But you're with me now,” he whispered, blushing slightly, making
her grin and nod.

“Let's go,” Hermione told him. “We probably woke up the whole clan, and I don't feel
like dealing with them,” she explained. Harry chuckled and ducked his head.

“As you wish,” he said. Hermione embraced him again and gasped softly at the sight of his
smudged white shirt.

“Oh, Harry, I ruined your shirt,” she commented, examining the spots. “I'm sorry... I'll
*Scourgify* it-”

“Don't worry about it,” Harry said. “If during this war black eyeliner is the only thing
that's going to stain my shirts, I'm not about to complain.”

-+-+-

A/N: Hoped you liked this one! I'd like to give credit to mathiasgranger for the aneurism
line- I laughed so much when I read it that I decided to include it. And just for the sake of it:
if it was not blaringly obvious after this chapter, I really, really dislike Ron. Sorry, but he had
it coming since fourth year. I hope that you'll review to tell me what you thought of the
chapter!

-->



5. Grimmauld Place
------------------



A/N: Hi! Thank you for your reviews; I can't even explain you how happy they make me feel...
I hope they keep coming! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Disclaimer: Nah- uh. Only the plot.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

The afternoon sun shone over them as they apparated in that nasty old neighborhood, which had
not changed one bit since their fifth year, except perhaps for the filth on the sidewalks. They had
paid the Dursley's a last visit, so Harry could retrieve his clothes and belongings, and then
they had gone to Hermione's house so she could also change and get some clothes. Currently,
Harry and Hermione tightly clutched their wands in their pockets, walking slowly towards the empty
street over which the unplotabble Grimmauld Place was supposed to be. Though it was highly
improbable that Death Eaters would attack by daytime, it was better to be safe than sorry...

“Harry...” Hermione suddenly said, breaking the silence, “I was thinking... Who's the secret
keeper for Grimmauld Place?” Harry stopped dead at his tracks at this question. They were a block
away from the house, still.

“It was Dumbledore,” Harry replied. Hermione bit her lower lip.

“Oh, no... The spell must have lifted; what if the Death Eaters already found the place and
destroyed it?? The Horcrux!” Hermione moaned, cradling her cheeks with her hands. Harry gulped and
ran his fingers through his hair- he had not thought of that. The mere thought that they had been
so close to the Horcrux just to have it snatched away from his grip was almost unbearable...

“So what do you suggest we do?” Harry asked. “I could take out the invisibility cloak and we
could sneak in?” Hermione bit her lower lip and frowned.

“I think it's too risky; they could see part of our bodies... I think that we have to go for
the Disillusionment charm again,” she replied. Harry agreed with his head and Hermione followed
suit; she grabbed him by the hand and led him behind a big dumpster as she took out her wand. She
rapped Harry's head first and then hers, using -Harry supposed- the nonverbal spells he had
never mastered. Once they were camouflaged they broke into a run to get to Grimmauld Place, and
when they did Hermione winced. The old house was plainly visible, still in one piece, but
visible.

“There's no Dark Mark above it,” Harry said barely above a whisper.

“There was no one to murder inside,” Hermione retorted in the same voice, as they carefully
approached the house. “Let's look through the windows...” With a ghost like tread, each of them
took a peek inside from the different windows, and saw that everything was in order. They rounded
all the windows around the perimeter of the house, and it seemed perfectly empty... When Harry and
Hermione met each other again (it took some time to identify the silhouettes) at the front door,
everything seemed to be okay inside of Grimmauld Place.

“Should we go in?” Hermione whispered, finding it very annoying that she couldn't see Harry
as she spoke, or as he replied.

“We must,” Harry whispered back. “There's a Horcrux in there... In any case, we go in, get
the locket, and hide until we find a new secret keeper or something,” he suggested. “What if we
*Accio* the locket??” Harry said excitedly. “That's it! We open one of these windows, we
summon it-”

“Harry, no!” Hermione whispered, scared. “What if the Death Eaters have it? Remember that when
you summon something, no matter what it is, it comes to you... What if, I don't know,
Malfoy's mother has it? Or Bellatrix... Even Snape! They'd notice if the locket just went
flying out of their living rooms,” she rationalized.

“You're right,” he grunted. “It's just... I don't want to enter Sirius's
house...” he mumbled, embarrassed.

“Okay... I'll go.” At this comment Harry frowned, unable to see Hermione's face, but he
knew that she was determined. Did she really believe that he was going to let her go in just like
that? It was almost insulting.

“Are you crazy?!” he hissed angrily. “Honestly, Hermione! If we have to go in, *I'll*
enter!”

“And have you forgotten what I told you on the wedding? I'm not leaving you alone!” she
hissed back. Harry rubbed the `invisible' bridge of his nose at this.

“Okay, okay,” he said, admitting defeat. “Let's both enter... I'll go first.”

“Nonsense,” Hermione snapped. “We'll go together; and we better hurry before the charms
lift,” she added. The sun was already setting in the horizon, and invisible as they may be, it was
not safe to linger outside.

“Grab my hand; I can't see you,” Harry said, stretching out his hand and coming in contact
with something warm that he assumed was Hermione's arm, but it didn't exactly feel like an
arm.

“Harry... Um... I don't mind you touching my breast, but this is neither the time nor the
place,” Hermione's amused voice reached his ears, and Harry lifted his hand immediately.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed, his voice resembling a squeak. It was lucky that he had the charm on and
that it was dark; he could almost feel the heat that his cheeks were sending off. He felt
Hermione's hand grab his.

“C'mon,” she only said, and they went up the worn steps towards the wooden, old door.
“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Harry saw the outline of Hermione's wand but didn't hear her mutter any spell,
and still the `click' of the front door being unlocked could be heard. Breathing in deeply as
Hermione squeezed his hand, Harry carefully pushed the door open. Inside it was completely dark,
and nothing happened as they stepped through the doorframe and inside the house.

Clear inches of dust muffled their footsteps as Hermione closed the door behind them and they
made their way towards the kitchen, wands out and ready. Harry and Hermione shared the equal tense
silence as they warily inspected the house, which was, surprisingly, in complete order. Nothing was
out of place, there was nothing broken, and there were no signs of any kind of struggle...

“Do you know how to place safety wards?” Hermione breathed. Harry shook his head no, straining
his ears in case he heard something in the upper floors, but it was only their breathing what
resounded in the darkness that surrounded them. “Let's split up,” she suggested.

“Hermione, not again-”

“Listen to me,” she cut him off. “I know how to take care of myself. I'll seal the windows
and doors with the *Colloportus*,” she whispered. Harry scowled.

“And what do I do, sit on the couch and read the Daily Prophet?”

“Either you can keep complaining, help me seal everything, or you can inspect the upper floors
as I take care of the ground one,” Hermione told him. “It'll be faster if we split up.” Harry
reluctantly came to the conclusion that Hermione was right, but still didn't fancy the idea of
leaving her alone. He knew perfectly well that she could take care of herself, but it was just his
protective streak acting.

“Alright,” he said. “But first, let's cast the charms over ourselves again... I'll do
it,” he offered, rapping Hermione's head with his wand and then his own. “If you're not up
there in fifteen minutes, I'll come down again,” he warned.

“Just go,” she replied, and Harry heard her footsteps going over towards the front door, and
then that odd squelching sound that meant that the door was sealed. He sighed as he made for the
staircase, making a mental note to ask Hermione help him perfect those accursed nonverbal
spells.

True to her word, Hermione went up to the upper floors in less that fifteen minutes and found
Harry in the third landing, sealing the windows and doors that they would not use. The charms were
beginning to wear out again, but none of them replaced them- It was pretty obvious that this house
was as empty as it could be. Harry let out an exclamation of triumph as he magically sealed the
last window, making Hermione smile.

“Everything sealed?” she asked, going over towards Harry.

“Yep,” he said with a wide smile. “You know, I was thinking... What if we place a
*Confundus* on the house, so it looks as if this spot was empty? Not nearly as effective as
the Fidelius, I know, but...”

“I think that's a great idea,” Hermione said. “We'll have to go outside to do it,
though...”

“C'mon, the sooner the better,” Harry urged, already walking towards the staircase, Hermione
on his heels. When they reached the ground floor, breathless, Hermione immediately went over to the
windows to take a look outside.

“All clear,” she told Harry, and then she proceeded to go over to the door, pointing her wand at
it-

“Wait,” Harry said, taking out a minuscule strap of silver material out of his pocket.
“*Engorgio,”* he said, laying the tip of his wand over the fabric, and returned his invisible
cloak to its normal size so he could put it on. “Go ahead.” Hermione nodded and the door unlocked
once more; Harry quickly went out of the house and Hermione worriedly closed the door behind him;
she didn't like the idea of him being out there on the street alone... She needn't worry,
though, for Harry knocked on the door five minutes later, and reentered the house very much
alive... Hermione, again, sealed the door.

“What do we do now?” she wanted to know. “Do we look for the locket?” she asked Harry, but he
didn't seem to be listening. He was looking around him with a sad, nostalgic look.
“Harry...?”

“I never wanted to come back here,” he said with a strangely hollow voice. Hermione's brow
furrowed sadly and she went over to put her arms around his waist, not knowing what to say.
“It's just...”

“It's alright, Harry... You don't need to explain,” she said. Harry's arm returned
her embrace, and she felt him kiss her hair.

“Thank you,” he told her. “I don't feel like looking for the locket right now,” he added. “I
don't know if you realize this, but last night we didn't sleep...” Hermione broke the
embrace, smiling.

“Yeah, let's get some sleep...” she agreed. Harry walked over to the living room and
examined it critically.

“I'll need to clean the couch, though,” he said, peering down on a dust covered couch.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at this, putting her hands on her hips.

“And who said you're sleeping on a couch, Mr. Potter?” she questioned. Harry turned around
with an incredulous frown.

“Don't you even think of suggesting that you should sleep here-”

“Actually, I was about to suggest that we should sleep on a bed, upstairs,” Hermione said with a
smug smile, and Harry's throat dried up at the suggestion. “As long as you keep your hands to
yourself, though... Now you have no charm to blame,” she added. Harry smiled sheepishly and walked
over to Hermione, kissing her softly as an apology; Hermione grabbed his hand and smiled as she
guided him upstairs in silence.

---

“This is hopeless!” Harry exclaimed, throwing the locket to the wall violently.

“Harry, that isn't going to help!” Hermione declared in a huff, going over to where the
locket had fallen, and picked it up.

After four days of combing through the house for the locket, they had found it hidden inside
Kreacher's `room', among the sheets that had served as the elf's bed. It had been so
bizarre to hold the innocent looking locket knowing that you were holding a part of someone's
*soul*... A piece of Voldemort's soul rested inside the very locket that Hermione had
curtly picked up and placed on the table. They had tried every spell they knew with no success;
they had tried hitting, kicking, stomping on it, but the locket would not open.

“Then *what* is going to help?” Harry argued, pacing around the kitchen. “We've tried
everything!”

“How did you destroy Voldemort's diary?” Hermione asked; she had run her fingers through her
hair so many times out of frustration that it had swelled two times its normal volume, making her
look like a lion.

“I pierced it with the basilisk's fang,” Harry replied, still pacing. “The snake had bit me,
so I took the fang out of my arm and impaled the diary with it,” he explained. Hermione frowned at
this, staring at the locket fixedly, trying to find a connection, something that they could have
missed... As she concentrated on the locket in front of her, she felt something- a tingle that
invaded her whole body, a lightening of understanding... She didn't know what it was, or where
it came from, but it was bright and invigorating...

“Harry,” Hermione said, with her eyes wide open, “Voldemort could only touch you when Pettigrew
put your blood on the potion, right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Harry replied absentmindedly. “And still he couldn't possess me because I have the
capacity to love,” he added. Hermione nodded slowly.

“And you say that the fang went right through your arm? So it was drenched with your blood?”

“I don't know if it went `right through my arm', but it's quite possible that it had
my blood on it, yes,” he said. “Why are you asking-” he cut himself off as he stopped pacing,
looking at Hermione, who looked back at him with her mouth slightly open. “My blood... My blood!”
Harry exclaimed, going over the table to pick up the locket. “Do you think that it'll destroy
this?” he asked excitedly. Hermione grinned and nodded just as eagerly, but just as she was about
to speak, they heard someone knocking on a door. Hermione and Harry immediately took out their
wands as Harry hastily put the locket in his pocket.

“Was that here?” Hermione asked in a whisper. Harry shrugged.

“I don't-”

A more forceful knocking on the door interrupted him, and they both straightened up and tiptoed
towards the kitchen door, peeking behind the doorframe. Whoever was knocking had to be a wizard or
a witch... Harry gazed at Hermione and she nodded, as the knocking persisted, and together they
made their way towards the front door in silence. With one last gaze at each other and a nod, Harry
tore the door open as Hermione pointed her wand at the face of whom other but *Ron*, who had
frozen at the sight of both wands pointing straight at this face; he still had his fist in the air
as to continue knocking.

“Ron?” Hermione asked, hesitant, her wand not moving an inch. Ron nodded slowly, still looking
dumbfounded.

“Prove it!” Harry ordered. “What shape does Hermione's Patronus take?” Ron swallowed.

“An- an otter,” he croaked. At this Harry and Hermione lowered their wands from Ron's face,
allowing him to breathe properly again, and stood aside so he could enter. Once he had, and the
door was safely closed behind them, Ron broke eye contact and suddenly found the floor to be very
interesting. Harry crossed his arms and Hermione simply stared at him in silence. “I'm- I'm
sorry,” Ron finally mumbled, looking up at them. “I was acting like a prat.” Hermione allowed her
face to relax a bit, but Harry's face took a little longer to soften up. “I was being a
rightful git, and you two didn't deserve it,” he added.

“And?” Hermione prompted. Ron blushed.

“I shouldn't have... Well, what I said to you... Sorry,” he muttered. Hermione's smile
widened and she went over to hug him.

“Forgiven,” she told him. “I'm glad you came around.” Ron smiled back at her and then gazed
hopefully at Harry, who in the end also smiled and stepped towards Ron, patting him on the
shoulder.

“Yeah, apology accepted,” Harry told him. “Call Hermione a tart again and I'll kill you, but
there are bigger things going on now,” he added, making Ron smile nervously, because he knew that
some part of Harry really meant it.

“We may have found the way to destroy the next Horcrux!” Hermione squeaked.

“Horcrux? What Horcrux?” Ron asked, bewildered and amazed.

“Remember the locket that we found while cleaning the house in our fifth year? The one no one
could open?” Hermione asked him.

“No,” Ron answered, raising his right eyebrow.

“Come, we'll tell you all about it,” Hermione told him, grabbing both Harry and Ron by the
arms to drag them back into the kitchen. Ron and Harry shared a knowing smile at Hermione's
attitude, and both grinned when she asked them why they were smiling like that.

After all, some things never changed.

-+-+-

A/N: Well, there it is... This chapter was going to be a lot longer, but I decided to cut it in
two... As for Ron's reaction after the fight, as well as him spotting the house, they'll be
a more detailed explanation of it in the following chapters. As usual, reviews are always more than
welcome. Thanks for reading!

-->



6. The Locket
-------------



A/N: Hello there- First, thank you for those great reviews. I'm so glad you guys like this!
As for Ron back in the story, I'm not happy about it, but he *is* like a brother to Harry.
Unfortunately. Without further ado... Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Taking into account that the Deathly Hallows is to be published in July (is anyone
else terrified?), I don't own the characters. Just the plot. Alas...

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

“*This* is the Horcrux?” Ron asked incredulously as he examined the locket.

“Well, what did you expect?” Hermione asked him, frowning slightly.

“Dunno; it's just... I can't believe that a piece of You- Know- Who's soul is inside
of this thing,” Ron replied.

“Yeah, it's weird,” Harry agreed. “Say, Ron, can I ask you something?” Ron nodded as he
continued to narrow his eyes at the locket, turning it around to glance at it from every angle
possible. “How did you find the house? We placed a *Confundus* on it.”

“I knew you'd be here, so when I saw the empty spot, I knew something was up,” Ron answered,
finally leaving the locket on the table to gaze at Harry. “When we... um... fought, Ginny kind
of... heard us...”

“She isn't coming here, isn't she?” Harry sharply asked. He didn't feel like dealing
with Ginny right now; it had been hard enough avoiding her at the wedding. Ron quickly shook his
head.

“She had one of Fred and George's extendable ears, and when we were having lunch with my
family, she let it slip that you were here-” he was cut off by an indignant howl from Harry, while
Hermione let her jaw fall open. “My mom told me that the Order was looking for you, and that
they'd come here to keep an eye on us, but then my dad told my mom that he had already told
Lupin that you two were safe, and that there was no need-”

“And he is quite right,” Hermione said with a satisfied smile.

“Mom went mental; you know, made a scene...” Ron continued. “But I told her that I'd come
here to `check on you'.”

“But how did you find the house?” Harry repeated. Ron looked thoughtful for a couple of
seconds.

“Well, you see... Dad told me that Dumbledore had been the secret keeper for this house, and I
knew that the Fidelius would've disappeared because he passed away,” Ron began explaining.
“Since you had come here with Hermione, I assumed that you two would cast something like a
Confundus on the house... So I asked Dad to tell me how to deactivate it so I could see the house,”
he finished.

“I'm impressed,” Hermione said with her eyebrows rise.

“I'm not that stupid, you know,” Ron replied.

“Yeah, you have your moments,” Harry said with a grin. Ron blushed slightly but also smiled at
them.

“Well, are you going to tell me how to destroy this?” he asked. Hermione instantly lightened up,
excited.

“With Harry's blood!” she exclaimed. Ron gazed at Harry at this with a frown and a trace of
horror in his features, making Harry chuckle.

“It's probable that my blood also destroyed Riddle's diary, which was a Horcrux, so
Hermione thought that maybe it could work on this one too,” he told Ron, who scratched his
head.

“Trust Hermione to come up with something like that,” he commented. “So what're you going to
do? Let your blood fall over the locket?” he wanted to know.

“I think it's safer that way,” Hermione started. “First I had considered smearing
Harry's blood on some object, like a hammer or something, and then hit the Horcrux with it, but
then I remembered what had happened to Dumbledore's hand,” she told them.

“But how can that be safer?” Harry questioned. “I have to be near to the locket to let the blood
fall over it,” he said.

“Maybe we can gather it somewhere, like a glass, and then pour it over the locket. You know, we
levitate the glass and then tip it...” Hermione retorted. Ron shook his head.

“I'm not entirely comfortable with this conversation,” he said with the ghost of a smile on
his lips. “It's just so... morbid.”

“Morbid?” Hermione echoed.

“Yeah, morbid. Talking about Harry's blood like it was pumpkin juice that Fred and George
plan to drench Malfoy's hair with,” Ron said.

“It's not like I've never done something of the sort,” Harry said, shrugging. “To enter
and leave the cave in which the false locket was, I also had to use my blood, and Dumbledore's
as well,” he said.

“In any case, Voldemort is the morbid one here,” Hermione said. Ron looked at her like saying
`no shit' and Harry laughed when Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ron.

“Well then,” Harry said, rubbing his hands and standing up. “The sooner the better,” he added,
gazing at Hermione, who nodded and stood up, going over to the counter.

“What?” Ron asked. Harry, who had opened the cupboards and was now inspecting them, looked at
him.

“Time to destroy the Horcrux,” he said, going back to the cupboards.

“What? Now?” he asked, hastily standing up. “What're you looking for, mate?” He added when
he heard clinking noises, staring at Harry grin in triumph.

“A knife,” he simply answered, retrieving his hands from the cupboard, holding at least five
different knives. Hermione seemed unfazed by this answer as she brought a glass to the table,
placing it next to the locket. Paying no heed to Ron's horrified face, she stepped closer to
Harry to also examine the knives.

“You guys have issues, did you know that?” Ron couldn't help but to point out.

“Why would you say so?” Hermione asked, not even looking at him.

“Could it be because you're helping your boyfriend decide with knife is better to cut his
skin?” he retorted. As Harry decided for a short, yet sharp looking knife, Hermione sighed.

“Well, I don't like it at all,” she said, going over to the table again. “But destroying
this Horcrux is being one step closer to vanquishing Voldemort... It's better to bite the sour
pill and get over it, instead of thinking too much about it,” she explained.

“Besides, Ron... We'll have to leave this house soon, and I don't fancy carrying a
Horcrux in my pocket while strolling down Hogsmeade,” Harry added, standing next to Hermione.

“Okay, okay. Let's do it.” he gave in, apprehensively eyeing the knife in Harry's hand.
Hermione placed the glass under Harry's hand and bit her lower lip; Harry opened his palm and
placed the blade across it.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered, and Ron and Hermione both looked away, shuddering, as he
sliced his skin open. “You can look now,” Harry's voice stated, so Ron opened his eyes to look
back at the table. The glass was not even half full, but a considerable amount of blood rested in
it.

“*Episkey*,” Hermione said, pointing at the cut in Harry's palm, and it quickly closed.
Ron peered down at the glass and scrunched his nose in disgust when he saw the red liquid swirling
about- he hated the sight of blood. “Ron, cast an Imperturbable charm,” Hermione suddenly ordered
him.

“Why?”

“Just in case... We don't know what the spell protecting the Horcrux will do,” Hermione
said. Ron raised his eyebrows but nodded, taking his wand out of the pocket of his jeans and
pointing it towards the door. He muttered the incantation and then turned around to face his two
friends again.

“Done,” he clarified. Harry sighed once more.

“Good. Now let's step back,” he said, and the three pressed themselves against the wall of
the kitchen, as far away from the locket and the blood as they could go without leaving the
kitchen. “Use the Shielding spell, in any case,” Harry added, and Hermione and Ron nodded. “Well
then...” he trailed off, firmly grasping his wand as he positioned the tip in direction of the
glass. “*Wingardium Leviosa*,” he said, and the glass lifted itself from the table, hovering
over the locket. He felt Hermione gripping his arm, he could sense Ron's fear, he could hear
his own heart beating wildly in his chest... And he tipped the glass.

In a split second a brilliant white light illuminated the kitchen, blinding them completely.
Harry heard a bloodcurdling shriek and felt how his body was pushed back by the force of the
explosion, and next felt his head banging hard against the wall. Stars exploded behind his
eyelids... Rubble and dust were falling over them, all around, making them cough and making it
impossible to completely open their eyes. Still clutching his wand and feeling slightly dizzy,
Harry blinked madly as his free hand felt around the floor for his best friend and his
girlfriend.

“Ron? Hermione?” he lisped, coughing again.

“Harry-” a coarse voice, that Harry recognized as Ron's, said at his left. “Are you okay?”
Waving a hand in front of his face to clear the air from the dust, Harry managed to see Ron's
face at the corner of the room. A purplish bruise was staring to form near Ron's temple.

“Yeah- Where's Hermione?” Ron put a hand over his bruise as he crawled towards Harry, who
had large cut on his cheek.

“I don't know- Hermione?” Ron said, looking around. When Hermione didn't answer,
something that felt like complete panic seized Harry when he distinguished Hermione's limp body
under half of what had been a chair, near the kitchen door. As he quickly staggered towards her he
found himself inside the Department of Mysteries; he was fifteen again, and Hermione had just been
hit by Dolohov's spell-“Harry, calm down,” Ron's voice suddenly reached his ears, and only
then did Harry realize that he was sweating and panting. “She's just been knocked out. Probably
the chair...”

“Yeah, you're- you're right- I'll take her to our room-” Harry agreed, still in a
daze, picking the debris of the chair up and throwing it away. With some effort he cradled
Hermione's body safely in his arms and stood up, Ron following suit.

“*Our* room?” Ron asked as he opened the kitchen door with some effort, kicking pieces of
rubble away. Harry didn't answer at first, too conscious of Hermione's lax body in his
arms. Why did he overreact like that?

“She told me to share it with her,” he finally said as they reached the stairs. A minute of
silence filled the air as they climbed the staircase.

“Oh,” Ron only said at last. Harry agreed with his head, turning round the corner in direction
of the last room in the hallway. When he reached the room Ron opened the door, stepping aside so he
could pass; Harry took three big strides across the room and carefully laid Hermione on the bed,
taking the opportunity to check if she was breathing. When he was certain she was alright, he
turned around and noticed, with some surprise, that Ron had not followed him into the room. With a
last glance at Hermione Harry walked over to the door and went out of the room, and, noticing the
look on his best friend's face, sighed as he closed the door behind him.

“Let's go and see if it actually worked,” Harry chose to say, quickly beginning to walk back
to the stairs; he could hear Ron slow steps behind him.

“Did you mean it?” Ron wanted to know as they walked down the stairs, making Harry raise his
right eyebrow.

“What?”

“What you told me about not deserving Hermione,” Ron specified. Harry halted at the bottom of
the stairs, closing his eyes for a second. He gazed at Ron.

“Yes.” Ron widened his eyes at this, not believing his ears. He had thought that Harry had said
that just because they were fighting...

“What- Why?” he questioned as they started moving towards the kitchen.

“I already told you why.” Harry lightly replied, glancing at him.

“So you are perfect enough to deserve her, I take it?” Ron accused; the tips of his ears were
red. Harry shrugged.

“No,” he told him. “I honestly don't think I'm worthy to even lick the dirt on her
shoes, but I'll let her decide that.” he added barely above a whisper, putting his hand on the
doorknob and turning it to open the door. The window panes had exploded and the table was nothing
but a heap of burnt wood on the floor; even small chunks of the walls were missing.

“Bloody hell,” Ron stated, ogling at what had been a kitchen in perfect shape twenty minutes
before the whole `destroying the Horcrux' business. “Lucky Hermione thought of the
Imperturbable,” he added. Harry nodded as he started looking through the pieces of the table for
the locket. Ron quickly began helping him, not daring to bring the subject of Hermione up. As he
removed a particularly big piece of the table away, his hands felt a cold, metallic material. “I
found it!” he exclaimed, triumphal, lifting the locket- now burnt and blackened, but still closed
and apparently whole.

“Let me see it,” Harry urgently requested, prying the offending piece out of Ron's
hands.

“Try to open it,” Ron said. Harry frowned and bit his lower lip as he turned the locket sideways
and pressed the small lock... And the locket parted open easily, hanging innocently by its chain.
Harry stared at it, transfixed, while a grin found its way to Ron's face. Harry lifted his eyes
to look at him, with his mouth open.

“Is it...?” he trailed off, his eyes still wide. Ron nodded and strongly hit Harry on the
back.

“Yeah, mate. You destroyed it! You destroyed the Horcrux!” he announced. Harry's gaze
returned to the locket and stared grinning slowly, madly, still incapable of believing it.

“God dammit!” He finally exclaimed, waving his arms and throwing the empty locket against the
wall. Somewhere in the world, wherever he was, Voldemort was one step closer to his death! Almost
unconsciously Harry did a small jig on the spot. How happy Dumbledore would've been! Harry
turned around and hugged Ron (who raised his eyebrows, amused), laughing. Few times in his life had
Ron seen Harry look so happy- Even more than when he won the Quidditch Cup in third year. But then
again, this was a *little* bit more important than that... Harry broke the embrace, still
grinning like a madman, and raised his index finger. “But this was not my idea...” he started
solemnly, whipping around on the spot. “It was hers! Hermione!” he exclaimed, walking over to the
door. “Hermione, are you awake?!” he yelled, running out of the kitchen.

“Mental, I tell you,” Ron muttered to himself with a grin, hearing Harry's faded
`Hermione!' calls coming from the upper floor.

Hermione moaned softly as she stirred, touching her head with her hand. A lump the size of
Crookshanks was starting to form on her forehead and scalp, but that didn't matter. She
wasn't in the kitchen anymore; what had happened to the Horcrux? Was Harry alright? And Ron? As
her eyes brought the room into focus, she heard a door slam against the wall, and she jumped at the
loud sound. Seconds after she saw Harry's face hovering above hers. He had a gash on his cheek
and his glasses were chipped and askew, but other than that he seemed to be perfectly okay.

“Harry, what-” She was rudely interrupted by Harry's lips over her own. Hermione widened her
eyes at this, shocked, assuming that the plan had worked? She put her hands on Harry's chest
and gently pushed him away, her brow furrowing. “Is it gone? Are you two alright?” Harry nodded at
both questions and pouted, grinning. “Are you sure? Did the whole kitchen... mmmfff...”

Hermione was not quite sure how it had happened, but she suddenly found herself squeezed under
Harry, returning his kisses with surprising ease for someone who had been knocked out by a chair
and had just woken up. Horcrux? What kitchen? Maybe it was because of Harry's excitement and
happiness, maybe it was because of hers- but there was something else there. Some indescribable
force behind their kisses; that very same force that had helped Hermione figure out the blood
theory... But from where did it come from? What was it? What triggered it?

And why was she thinking about that right now?

Harry's mouth moved from her mouth to her jaw line and the soft skin under her earlobe,
making Hermione sigh deeply and tilt her head sideways to give him more room, and Harry accepted
her invitation gladly, leaving a trace of kisses all the way from her earlobe to her neck. Her
hands found their way to his back, curling her fingers around his t shirt, softly nibbling on his
neck as a comeback. When she felt Harry's hand on her stomach, beneath her blouse, she let out
a small gasp.

“Harry- Ron is downstairs...” her voice faded into a purr as he continued to nibble on her
collarbone mercilessly. On their own volition, Hermione's hands worked their way under
Harry's shirt too, wanting to feel his skin-

“I don't care,” he breathed. The scary part about this whole situation was that Hermione
also couldn't care less, and didn't object when Harry claimed her mouth again as his hands
began to roam over her body clumsily, as though wanting to touch everything he could reach in the
shortest amount of time possible. The pace was maddening and their actions became more desperate;
the temperature in the room seemed to go up ten degrees in three seconds...

CRASH!

Harry and Hermione both froze as they heard that, their eyes going towards the door.

“Idiot boy, where is it? WHERE IS IT?!” a dimmed shout could be heard, followed by a BANG. Harry
sprung up like hit by lightening at this, still breathing heavily, and Hermione grabbed both their
wands and ran towards the door, Harry by her side.

That had not been Ron's voice.

-+-+-

A/N: And that's all for now. Hope you liked it... Please leave me a review to tell me what
you though of it!

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7. Into Hiding
--------------



Into hiding

A/N: Hello there- Thank you for your reviews! I'm so happy you like this, seriously. Thank
you for reading. Enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: Why would I be writing fanfiction if I owned the characters?

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

The door to the kitchen was ajar. Harry and Hermione tiptoed towards it swiftly; wands out, and
ready to pounce. They didn't know how many people were in there; they didn't know who it
was that had screamed-

“Now tell me!” a male's muffled voice exclaimed. For a minute nothing could be heard.
Hermione gazed at Harry and he nodded, positioning himself to kick the door when the right time
came.

“Kill him and be done with it-” another male replied, sounding almost bored. Harry lifted his
leg but Hermione stopped him promptly, signaling herself with her index finger. “He isn't
responding.”

“And risk His wrath?” as the man replied Hermione cautiously leaned closer to the door and
peeked through the gap; two tall men, using black robes, stood with their backs to the door.
Without taking her eyes off them Hermione lifted two fingers for Harry to see, and then extended
her hand to warn him not to do anything yet. She could sense Harry's frustration, but they had
to know why these two Death Eaters were here, and what they were looking for.

“Unless you have Veritaserum this vermin apparently won't speak; let's kill him and
inspect the rest of the house,” the other told him. Hermione beckoned Harry to get closer as she
pointed the tip of her wand towards one of the men. Without so much as a blink, Hermione shot a
Stupefy out of her wand that hit right between the shoulder blades of one of the Death Eaters, who
immediately collapsed.

“What the-?”

“Go!” Hermione exclaimed, stepping out of the way as Harry finally kicked the door open
violently.

“*Stupefy*!” he exclaimed, and another beam of red light faintly illuminated the room
before it hit the remaining Death Eater in the chest; he fell over his colleague in a heap. Both of
them were wearing skull-like masks. Hermione immediately ran towards Ron, who was against the wall
with his jaw slightly open. Resisting the urge to kick their faces, Harry followed suit, stepping
over the unconscious men. They'd deal with them later.

“Ron? Ron, are you okay?” Hermione was asking Ron, who didn't give any signs of having heard
her or, for that matter, having witnessed his two best friends take down two of Voldemort's
followers. Ron's eyes were unfocused, staring blankly at the door. Harry gazed at his face,
frowning, while Hermione bit her lower lip worriedly. After another minute's silence, Harry
straightened his back.

“Ron, hand me the locket,” he requested. Hermione looked inquisitively at Harry at this, who
only shook his head and then nodded in direction of the red head, which had raised his leg as to
walk, but kept it immobilized in the air. “The locket, Ron,” Harry repeated loudly. Ron's leg
went down and raised his other leg, seemingly about to walk, but again stopped dead in his tracks.
He was acting like a bizarre marionette; in some other situation, it would've been amusing.
Just as Hermione was about to ask him what was going on, Harry looked at her meaningfully, and once
more nodded in direction of Ron.

“Er... Ron? Give the Horcrux to Harry,” she said hesitatingly, not quite sure of what her
boyfriend was trying to prove. Ron didn't move, and Harry grinned in triumph.

“Just like I thought,” he stated. Hermione glared at Harry at this, but as she glanced at Ron,
she gasped.

“He's under the Imperius!” she breathed, and without further ado pointed her wand at Ron and
cast the *Finite Incantatem* on him.

“You know, love, you really need to teach me the nonverbals,” Harry commented as Ron shivered
and shook his head as he returned to normal.

“Maybe if you had paid more attention to Flickwick instead of slobbering after Ginny, you would
know them already,” Hermione coldly replied. Harry raised his eyebrows at this, surprised by the
change in her attitude.

“Ouch,” Ron muttered, glancing at Hermione and then at Harry, who sported a hurt look.

“What happened?” Hermione asked Ron, avoiding looking at Harry. “We heard someone screaming and
a bang-”

“Yeah, before they put me under the Imperius they blew a chunk of the wall off,” Ron started,
signaling a burnt spot on the wall just next to him.

“What did they want? The Horcrux?” Harry questioned. If Voldemort had realized that another
piece of his soul had ceased to exist, Harry frankly didn't want to imagine what the
consequences would be.

“No, they wanted... Well, they wanted your wand.” Ron replied.

“Wand?” Harry echoed, perplexed. Ron agreed with his head, but Hermione didn't say anything.
Her brow was furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah, that overrated tree branch that you use to cast spells,” Ron said with a half smile. When
Harry raised his eyebrow as a reply, his friend raised his mockingly. “Anyway, I didn't tell
them, so they put the Imperius on me,” he added with a shrug. “From what I could hear, Moody's-
Er, Crouch's classes in fourth year finally paid of...”

“Why would Voldemort want my wand?” Harry muttered, glancing back at the collapsed Death Eaters.
Ron shuddered at the mention of the name, as usual, but also peered down at the Death Eaters with
an incredulous expression.

“I'd say something about nonverbal spells, but Hermione might stick my wand up my nostril,”
Ron's whisper was almost conspirational to Harry, who pursed his lips. “What're we going to
do with these two?”

“Throw them away somewhere, I guess, and we better hurry.” Harry replied, turning around to look
for the locket, near the wall where it lay, lifting it up and pocketing it. The thought that the
object in his pocket was nothing more than an ugly locket was invigorating.

“What if we *Obliviate* them, too?” Ron suggested. “It'll buy us some time to go into
hiding-”

“Well, Ron, aren't you a bright little bulb today? I'm amazed,” Harry told him, patting
him on the shoulder.

“Hey, don't take it out on me,” he said in a low voice, scowling. “It's not my fault if
you guys fought or something... Incidentally, what *were* you two doing?” Ron asked in a
mutter, helping Harry *Reparo* the kitchen.

“Um... Celebrating,” Harry said, blushing at the memory. “We didn't fight-”

“Ollivander,” Hermione's clear voice resounded in the kitchen, making both boys turn
around.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Ollivander,” Hermione snapped. Harry decided to ignore the tone of her voice and try to
decipher what she was trying to tell them. Ollivander was the maker of wands, yes. He had told
Harry how curious it was that he should be destined to have the brother wand of Voldemort... And,
honestly, besides curious, it had been lucky- If in that graveyard they hadn't-

“*Priori Incantatem*,” Harry mumbled to himself, widening his eyes.

“But Ollivander was kidnapped, remember?” Ron told them. “Last year...” he trailed off, and then
opened his mouth as he connected the ideas. Hermione nodded at both facts mutely.

“Maybe Voldemort forced Ollivander to tell him how it could be avoided, and they obviously
wanted to either destroy Harry's wand, or take it to Voldemort himself,” she said.

“Wow, Hermione...” Ron said, shocked. “Where would we be without you?”

“Well, for instance, you Ron wouldn't be able to even cast the Leviosa, and you'd
probably still be eating Lavender's face,” Hermione lightly replied, moving to raise one of the
Death Eaters by the ankle with her wand. Ron winced at the comment. “As for Harry, well, maybe now
that he won't get high with Ginny's perfume anymore...” she trailed off. Harry blushed
crimson at this.

“How did you know that?” he asked, mortified, angry, and quite hurt by her sarcastic manner.

“My sister's perfume?” Ron asked, frowning.

“She told me,” Hermione replied to both Harry and Ron as she took the man's mask off with
disgust; she didn't recognize the face- he looked quite young. “Recognize this one?” she asked.
Harry and Ron leaned over to look at the man and then shook their heads.

“No,” they said in unison. Harry lifted the other Death Eater just like Hermione had done, with
the exception that he had to say the incantation, and also took the mask off.

“These must be new,” Harry said, examining him. “Nice career choice, idiots,” he added as he let
the man fall to the floor. Ron grinned.

“Okay, let's get out of here,” he said, pointing at the Death Eaters to disillusion them.
“We'll obliviate them later,” he added, once the floating bodies were camouflaged. Harry and
Hermione nodded and in silence they left the kitchen and went into the living room, repairing
things that were broken or out of place, with the idea of making the house look as though no one
had ever entered it. Once outside the house, Hermione reinforced the Confundus over the house `just
in case', and they quickly began waking towards the nearest apparition point. Using Harry's
Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have been of much help, because of the still unconscious Death
Eaters dangling in the air, and the rest of Harry's and Hermione's personal belongings were
safely (shrunk) resting in their pockets.

“Where are we going to go now?” Ron wanted to know.

“Let's go to the cave that Sirius used in fourth year,” Harry said.

“Don't you think that going to Hogsmeade is too risky?” Hermione asked.

“Let's apparate in the outskirts... We'll dump the minions somewhere around there,”
Harry replied. Hermione shook her head.

“So we'll leave two obliviated Death Eaters in the middle of Hogsmeade? Do you think
they'll have a drink in the Three Broomsticks and then leave?” she argued heatedly.

“Do you have a better idea?” Harry barked back.

“Er, guys-” Ron started to say, but was amiably ignored.

“Any idea I might have is better than leaving two Death Eaters near that village!” Hermione
retorted, quickening her pace.

“Let's hear it then! What brilliant plan are you going to come up with now?” Harry told her,
moving forwards to keep up with her.

“Don't talk to me like that!” Hermione said loudly.

“Harry, Hermione-” Ron was again interrupted, this time by Harry.

“Oh, so *you* can make me look like an idiot and I can't defend myself?”

“I did nothing of the sort! If you don't want to face the truth about Ginny and you,
that's not my problem-”

“Exactly! That's not your problem!” Harry exclaimed. Before Hermione could reply, hit, hex
Harry, or all of the above, Ron decided to put his foot down.

“GUYS!” He shouted, making Harry and Hermione stop walking (weren't they almost jogging by
then? Really...) and turn around to look at him. “Why don't we just let the Aurors in the
Ministry deal with the Death Eaters?” At the fierce look in Hermione's eyes, Ron continued
speaking before she opened her mouth. “Let's contact someone like my dad or professor Lupin-
That's what the Oder is for, right?” he said.

“And how exactly are we going to contact them?” Hermione asked.

“I'll apparate with them to the Ministry,” Ron replied, puffing out his chest proudly. Harry
snorted.

“You'll lose more than an eyebrow,” he told Ron. Hermione glared at Harry.

“Well, at least he's saying something logical!” she told him shrilly.

“Oh sorry, did I hear *you* suggesting something about what to do with the Death Eaters?”
Harry shot back. Ron rolled his eyes and murmured two consecutive *Finite Incantatum* on both
Death Eaters, so they first became visible again and then fell to the floor. As Harry and Hermione
kept fighting like cats and dogs, Ron kneeled down next to the unconscious men and put his hands,
respectively, on each of their shoulders.

“Honestly, guys,” Ron said, and again Harry and Hermione peered down at him, this time in
surprise. “Anyone could've taken these two and you wouldn't have even noticed,” he added.
They at least had the dignity to look guilty.

“I'm sorry,” Hermione said, biting her lower lip. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“We'll both go,” Harry said, making Hermione purse her lips.

“Nah, I'll be alright... Harry, mate, I think I understand you now...”

“Why?” Harry asked.

“With the bickering,” Ron said, shaking his head. “Bloody annoying... You two go ahead to the
cave, I'll go there after I leave this two in the Ministry...” and with that he closed his eyes
tightly and with a loud POP Ron and the two Death Eaters disapparated from the sidewalk, leaving a
fuming Harry and Hermione alone.

Without speaking a word to each other they both disapparated at the same time, and a few seconds
later found themselves on the outsides of a now desolated Hogsmeade. The shops and bars were
closed, and no one was walking in the streets. Harry looked sadly at what had once been such a
cheery place and now seemed a ghost town; Hermione sighed and shook her head, turning around and
starting to make her way towards the cave. Harry snapped out of whatever sadness he was feeling and
quickly followed her; both still sharing that tense, angry silence. Twenty minutes later, for they
had got lost once, Harry and Hermione found themselves stepping carefully inside the tunnel that
lead into the cave.

“Why do we keep going to the places which remind me of Sirius?” Harry muttered.

“This was your idea,” Hermione sentenced as they reached the heart of the cave.

“Hermione, would you mind explaining to me why are you acting like this?” Harry angrily
questioned. Hermione's brow furrowed and she looked away.

“It was your fault. If you hadn't kissed me-”

“I didn't see you refusing,” he told her.

“That's not the point! Ron could've been *killed*, Harry! If those Death Eaters had
not been so clumsy...” Hermione retorted with a shiver. Harry let out a huff as he raised his arms
in annoyance.

“How could we have known? It wasn't our fault!” he exclaimed. Hermione turned around and
walked towards one of the walls of the cave, crossing her arms.

“I was so scared,” she said barely above a whisper. “We all could've been killed; they were
about to murder our best friend...” she trailed off. Harry relaxed, understanding what she was
trying to tell him, and walked towards her. “I was so relieved, and I felt so guilty, Harry!”
Hermione squeaked, turning around to face him. Her eyes were glassy. “I love you two too much to
lose you...” she whispered, lowering her eyes. Harry lifted her chin with his index finger
gently.

“It won't happen again,” he told her. Hermione shook her head.

“And how do you know that?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I don't know what I'll do
with myself if... if...” her voice died down at this and she sniffed, concealing her face with her
hair. Harry let out a sigh and hugged her, kissing her hair in a vain attempt to comfort her. He
couldn't pretend that it hadn't shocked him how close Ron had been to death, either.
“I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to make you look like an idiot,” she communicated to his
shirt. He smiled.

“I'm sorry, too. Your brilliant plans are, well... Brilliant,” he told her, making her
chuckle hoarsely. She broke the hug and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smiling.

“Glad to see your eloquence is still in one piece,” Hermione told him.

“I try.” he said, before leaning in to kiss her softly. Kissing Hermione, he had discovered, was
so different from kissing other girls. Cho had always been crying; Ginny was... well... er... she
was aggressive and pushy, but Hermione... Kissing her made him feel as if he was a fish that had
been caught in a net, and was suddenly thrown back into the water. He wondered if she felt the
same?

“So I take it you guys are okay now?” a known voice asked, making them part. Ron was staring at
them, smiling very slightly.

“How did it go in the Ministry?” Hermione asked him, grinning. Ron shrugged as he walked towards
his friends.

“To make it short, complete madness. Scrimgeour almost peed on himself... And he almost blew
every blood vessel in his body when I told him that we were planning to Obliviate them. Said that
they could provide very useful information of You- Know- Who's whereabouts and all...”

“Well, what did he expect us to do?” Hermione questioned, frowning. “If you hadn't had the
idea of taking them to the Ministry...” Ron nodded and yawned, sitting down on the floor of the
cave. Harry and Hermione followed suit.

“So what's the next Horcrux?” Ron questioned. Harry retrieved the locket from his pocket,
opening it again and eyeing it.

“Dumbledore said something about Hufflepuf's cup and Nagini...”

“Nagini?”

“Voldemort's pet snake,” Harry clarified, raising his eyes to look at Hermione and Ron.

“Well, Nagini will certainly be our last objective,” Hermione stated. “I think we should talk to
Dumbledore's portrait; maybe he can tell us something useful...”

“Term starts in two months,” Harry said.

“I know. I wonder if they'll let me go to the library?” Hermione asked no one in
particular.

“Why wouldn't they?” Harry asked. “You'll be Head Girl-”

“Harry, honestly- Do you think I'll return to Hogwarts?” Hermione wanted to know. At
Harry's shocked face, Hermione raised her right eyebrow. “I could actually be offended, you
know.”

“But- But what about your N.E.W.T.s?” at Harry's question Hermione pouted, apparently under
the impression that he was pulling her leg.

“You matter more to me than exams,” she answered, sounding wounded.

“Sorry,” Harry told her. Hermione agreed with her head.

“Don't worry.”

“I'm hungry,” Ron announced. “Let's see if there's something open in Hogsmeade.”

“I don't-” Hermione started.

“We can't die of starvation, Hermione... We need the energy!” Ron cut her off, making Harry
laugh.

“I second that,” he said. Hermione gazed at them both in disbelief.

“You're hopeless.”

-+-+-

A/N: Well, there you go. Hope you liked this chapter... I felt a sort of guilty pleasure writing
the H/Hr fight... Is that wrong? Hehe... Anyway, please leave me a review to let me know what you
thought of this chapter!

-->



8. Voices
---------



A/N: Thank you for those amazing reviews! Enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: Nope. Nothing but the plot.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

The Three Broomsticks wasn't even a shadow of what it had once been. In fact, Harry was sure
that he'd seen the Hog's Head with more costumers. Madame Rosmerta stared at them
apprehensively as they sat down in the most secluded table in the pub, and there they quickly ate
under the scrutiny of the female owner. After they had paid for the awkward dinner, the trio
scurried off back into the cave using the shadows and the alleys to conceal themselves. An air of
uncertainty and discomfort choked the little town, and no one blamed anyone for avoiding it. Now
safely inside the cave, which had also been charmed with a Confundus, they could discuss what they
were going to do in the following days.

“I say we go to Hogwarts as soon as possible,” Hermione was saying, sitting Indian style in
front of Harry and Ron. “When term starts, it'll be difficult to be low-key,” she added.

“But will Hogwarts reopen?” Ron asked worriedly, scratching his cheek. Harry, whose elbows were
resting on his knees and whose hands covered his mouth and chin, frowned slightly.

“McGonagall was quite keen in reopening it,” he said through his hands. “I don't know what
the rest of the teachers make of that, though, except for one, of course.” His tone became icy, and
Ron and Hermione shared a worried glance. What would Harry do to Snape, if he ever saw the former
teacher again, would surely be a spectacle not apt for the weak of stomach.

“And what will we do there?” Ron wanted to know.

“Talk to Dumbledore's portrait; see if he knows something that could lead us to the next
Horcrux,” Hermione replied, and Harry nodded. Silence enveloped them for a minute after this;
Hufflepuff's cup could be anywhere... How long would the hunt last? Would Voldemort come to
realize that his precious bits of soul were at danger? Would they be able to destroy *all* the
Horcruxes, before it was too late?

“What did they do with the Death Eaters?” Harry broke the silence, glancing at Ron, who
sighed.

“They didn't know what to do with them. They can't send them to Azkaban, obviously, so
they have them immobilized in the Ministry,” he answered.

“But Voldemort will notice that they're missing! He'll send more Death Eaters to look
for them!” Hermione exclaimed worriedly.

“That's what Shacklebolt is afraid of,” Ron said. “They don't have many options.”

“And Voldemort has spies in the Ministry,” Harry said with an odd weary voice. “They need to get
out of there, quick.”

“Evacuate the Ministry?” Hermione asked, widening her eyes. “That's impossible... Just for
two death eaters?”

“They'll be more, once Voldemort finds out,” Harry said. “And the Death Eaters will tell the
others that Ron took them there, and that you and I knocked them out in Grimmauld Place,” he added.
Hermione covered her mouth with her hand and Ron went pale. Harry stared at them, his eyes dark-
hiding. “We can't stay here for long,” he told them dryly.

“Where are we going to go?” Ron asked after swallowing. Harry broke eye contact at this,
standing up as straight as he could with the cave's low ceiling.

“I don't know.”

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked -almost in a squeak- Harry, who had walked over to the
entrance leading to the tunnel.

“I'm going to mount guard,” he retorted, not looking at them, and he proceeded to sit down
facing the darkness of the entrance. “You two go to sleep,” he added.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Hermione questioned, crawling over to Harry.

“No,” he said. Hermione stopped moving, her brow furrowing.

“But Harry, you can't stay up all night alone...” she trailed off.

“It won't be the first time, Hermione,” Harry snarled, glaring at her from the corner of his
eyes.

“Don't you-” Hermione started angrily, put closed her mouth when she felt Ron's hand on
her shoulder. She turned around and he shook his head, nodding in direction of the wall opposite to
the entrance. Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Ron glanced at her meaningfully and pursed
his lips, so Hermione decided to follow him.

“What's your problem?” Hermione hissed at Ron once they were pressed against the wall.
“Don't you see what he's doing-”

“I know what he's doing,” Ron hissed back. “Let him be; we'll talk to him tomorrow,” he
added. Hermione's frown intensified but didn't say anything at first, refusing to let Harry
shut them out like he had done countless times.

“Okay, but we should take turns to guard the cave,” Hermione gingerly whispered. Ron nodded.

“No problem there. Goodnight,” he abruptly whispered back, lying down on the floor and rolling
to his side. Hermione tilted her head sideways, glancing back and forth at Harry and Ron in a
contemplative silence. She sighed and leaned against the damp wall, staring at Harry's back
(which was as straight as a pin), and hugged her knees. What if Voldemort decided to attack the
Ministry? What about Tonks, Lupin, and the rest of the Order? And what would *they* do? Where
would they hide, after leaving this cave? She heard Harry whispering *`Nox'*, and they
were plunged into total darkness.

Hermione winced inwardly at this, but didn't move. She didn't like this, no, she
didn't. What could happen to them in the darkness? What could they find, if they turned on a
light again? Hermione suddenly realized that she was scared. Not scared of the darkness itself, of
course, but... Oh, what had they done? Why had they allowed Ron to take the Death Eaters to the
Ministry? Sirius's old house would be blown to pieces, and Voldemort would send his minions and
henchman to look for Harry, to look for her Harry, and for Ron. She didn't care if she died
protecting them, but what would become of her if Harry died? Of course, she'd be a wreck if Ron
died, too, but Harry... She couldn't live without him- She'd have no purpose in her
life.

Hermione wanted to go over to the entrance and touch Harry to make sure that he was breathing;
she wanted him to hug her, so she could find comfort in his warmness, but she didn't dare let
him know how she was feeling. Harry had bigger things on his plate now. Her grip around her knees
tightened, and she hid her face there. The darkness and silence that surrounded them suddenly
became so very real, almost metaphoric; she wanted to scream, but instead felt warm tears sliding
down her cheeks.

When had she started crying? And why was she crying, for Merlin's sake? It was just
darkness... As long as she could hear Harry and Ron breathing, nothing else mattered.

As Hermione desperately tried to calm down and fall asleep, Harry tensely gripped his wand. He
was painfully aware of Hermione's agitated breathing, as well as her mounting discomfort, and
he couldn't understand why. He could faintly hear Ron's calm breathing, indicating that he
had fallen asleep, but Harry could hear Hermione's as clearly as though she was sitting right
next to him. Since that night when they first kissed, he found himself incapable of not being aware
of her presence, whatever the situation may be. Why? Had it always been this way, and he had not
realized? No, not in this way. There was something... Harry frowned in the darkness. Could it be
love? It had to be. Was this what Dumbledore had been trying to explain to him? Surely. But to be
felt so strongly? And what about those moments of sudden clarity, a sort of guidance in tough
situations?

Harry didn't want to depend on her so much- she was a target, she would *always* remain
a target, and all because of him. Why hadn't he stopped her when she decided to go with him on
the hunt? Why hadn't he just left the stupid party without telling anyone? *Because she'd
turn the world upside down to find you,* a small voice in the back of his head replied. Harry
smiled shortly. *But it shouldn't be that way. They're both in danger because of me, and
they shouldn't be.* Harry knew that he had hurt Hermione by snapping at her like he had
done, but he had needed to be alone, and to think... To get past his sudden fear and insecurity.
Hermione needed to be safe. For his sanity, she needed to be safe, and she'd never be safe if
she was with him... Harry frowned sorrowfully and thanked that no one could see his face at that
exact moment. He wanted to go where Hermione was and embrace her, but he didn't move.

Eventually the night ended and the sun rose, as it always did. Hermione had fallen into an
uneasy sleep at some point, and Harry had dozed off once, but when the dim morning light greeted
them, both set of tired red eyes met each other while Ron snored quietly in the background.
Hermione yawned and crawled over to where Harry was sitting, staring at her with an impassive
face.

“Hey,” she whispered, kissing him softly.

“Hey.” Harry whispered back, looking down.

“Harry...”

“Slept well?” he quickly asked. Hermione frowned slightly.

“No. You?”

“No.”

“What's wrong?” Hermione pressed. Harry's lips tensed, but didn't say anything, and
she patiently waited for him to speak.

“We can't... We can't be together, Hermione,” Harry finally mumbled, looking up at her
slowly.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Harry whispered, once again breaking eye contact. “It's too dangerous...” he
trailed off. Hermione crossed her arms at this, pursing her lips.

“Well, it's not like I didn't see this coming,” she retorted.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, please. You still don't get it, do you?” Hermione told him. “We being a couple
doesn't make any difference! Voldemort already knows what you mean to me, and what I mean to
you. The fact that I'm your girlfriend now is irrelevant to him,” she explained. Harry shook
his head, but before he could speak, Hermione interrupted him. “And even if it does matter, I
don't care. This was my choice, and I don't regret it.”

“But-” Harry was cut off when something brown and small flew into the cave, buzzing over their
heads, making Hermione shriek and Harry to stand up so quickly that he hit his head on the stone
ceiling.

“What? What?!” Ron's sleepy exclamation could be heard. “Is that Pig?” he added in
disbelief. Harry, rubbing his head, looked up to see, indeed, a small owl flying in circles above
them. The owl hooted and flew towards Harry like a rocket, colliding against his chest.

“Does he have a letter?” Hermione cautiously asked, embarrassed by the way she had screamed,
while Ron scrambled towards them. Harry was currently holding the small owl while trying to untie
the scrap of parchment tied to its leg.

“Why do Scops have to be so neurotic?” Ron grunted as Harry finally managed to retrieve the
letter, hastily opening it and reading it.

“What?” Hermione anxiously asked, biting her lower lip. Harry frowned as he passed her the
letter.

*Snuffles gave one to you. I have the other. Contact me as soon as you get this.*

Nothing else. Hermione raised her eyebrow and passed the note over to Ron, who sported the same
face as she did. “Who is it from?” he asked. Hermione shrugged.

“It's Lupin,” Harry announced, reading the note again. “He knew we called Sirius that, too.
Besides, I recognize the handwriting,” he told them. The owl hooted once last time and flew out of
the cave as quickly as he had flew in, leaving them alone again.

“But what did Sirius give you?” Hermione wanted to know.

“I don't...” Harry trailed off, running his fingers through his hair. What had his godfather
given him, that Lupin could `have the other one'? Ron and Hermione stared at him in silence as
his thoughts traveled to Sirius's presents: the firebolt, the knife, the DADA books... Was he
forgetting something...? He saw himself staring at something broken at the bottom of his school
trunk. “The two way mirror!” he exclaimed.

“The what?” Ron asked, as Harry dipped his hand in his pocket to retrieve his shrunken trunk
from it.

“The two way mirror Sirius gave me,” Harry explained as he examined what looked to be his trunk.
“I just have to say the name of the person who has the other one and I'll see him or her,” he
explained as carefully placed the small box on the floor and pointed his wand at it, muttering the
spell to return it to its original size.

“Why do you carry that around?” Ron questioned, referring to the school trunk, as Harry opened
it and started rummaging through his possessions.

“Well, he couldn't leave it in the Dursley household, don't you think?” Hermione said
with an unmistakable disgusted face, probably remembering Harry's childhood.

“Right. How did *that* go?” Ron wanted to know as Harry grunted and threw some books out of
the trunk.

“Wonderful; we had tea and everything,” Harry's muffled voice was heard. Ron laughed.
“Hermione screamed a lot.”

“I did not!” she argued when Ron's laughter became stronger. “I just... Told them that they
should've treated Harry better.”

“And that's why the next door neighbor came to ask my uncle if they needed to call the
police,” Harry replied as he stood up, triumphant, holding the mirror. Hermione smiled.

“Shut up and give me that,” she ordered, hitting Harry on the arm as she examined the mirror
critically. “When did Sirius give you this?”

“Fifth year,” Harry answered. Hermione raised her eyebrows, wanting to ask him why hadn't he
used this to communicate with Sirius, but it would be like throwing salt on an open wound. She
merely nodded and handed it back to Harry, who stared at it with something that resembled
guiltiness combined with sadness. He shook his head and opened his mouth to say Lupin's
name...

“How do we know it's really him?” Ron asked. “It could be a Death Eater or something,” he
added at Harry's and Hermione's looks.

“We can't shut the world out,” Hermione said quietly.

“But he's right,” Harry said. “I have an idea.” And with that he walked towards the tunnel
of the cave, Ron and Hermione behind him.

“I can't see anything,” Ron complained as he stepped on Hermione's foot.

“That's the idea,” Hermione snapped, rubbing her sore foot. “This way Lupin will only hear
Harry's voice, but won't be able to see where we are.” Ron didn't reply to that; too
busy wondering how Harry and Hermione managed to act as though they could read each other's
mind. He remembered being jealous of the way they just looked at each other and knew how the other
was feeling, or what he or she was planning... He never had that connection with Hermione.

“Remus Lupin,” Harry's clear voice reached Ron's ears, breaking his train of thought.
They all leaned over the mirror, apprehensively waiting for Lupin to answer. The mirror's
surface blurred for a couple of seconds, and then they could clearly see Lupin's worried
semblance, and behind him, what looked to be a library or a living room.

“Harry? Harry, is that you? I can't see you,” Lupin said.

“Yes, I'm Harry,” he replied. “Professor, I'm sorry about this, but you'll have to
prove to me that it's really you.”

“I'm glad you're taking precautions; ask me anything.” he was speaking quickly,
urgently.

“In your fifth year, what did my father liked doing, out in the grounds and near the lake?”
Lupin smiled.

“Sometimes he played with a snitch he had stolen. And he liked to ruffle his hair, depending on
Lily being nearby or not, and hexing Snivellus.” Harry smiled back and paid no heed to
Hermione's and Ron's perplexed glances. “Well, Harry, now that we know it's me... Are
you alright? Are Ron and Hermione with you?”

“Why?” Harry suspiciously asked. Lupin sighed.

“Molly's going spare,” he started, “but that's not our main concern. I don't want
any of you to come remotely near Grimmauld Place, you hear me?” Lupin's features became stern
at this.

“Why?” Harry repeated with a frown, but he knew why Lupin was giving them this warning.

“The Death Eaters escaped from the Ministry,” Lupin said with a heavy voice, and Hermione
gasped. “We believe that the spies in the Ministry helped them.” The trio shared a silence after
this scrap of information. “Harry, please be careful of who you three talk to, and try to blend in,
okay? If you ever need to contact me, or the Order, use this mirror. Don't return to the
Ministry, either.”

“We won't,” Harry replied tensely. “You should get out of there too.”

“We can't have a massive evacuation or let the spies take hold of what we're doing; it
would be a massacre. We're trying.” Lupin let out a long sigh. “I have to go now, Harry. Be
careful.” and with that Lupin's face became blurred and the mirror didn't reflect anything
but the darkness of the tunnel.

“We have to get out of here,” Ron stated, breaking the silence.

“Let's wait until tomorrow,” Hermione suggested in a whisper. “If the Death Eaters are on
the loose, it's guaranteed that they'll be looking for us- We can't apparate directly
to Hogwarts, and we have to warn someone that we're going there,” she added. They both turned
to look at Harry, waiting for him to tell them what to do.

“I don't know,” he finally mumbled. “I don't know where we could hide.” He suddenly felt
so tired...

“I'll reinforce the Confundus,” Hermione said bracingly. “Let's stay put here, and
something will come to us. It always does.”

“I'll go with you,” Ron retorted. Harry didn't object to that, and slowly turned around
to return to the cave while putting the mirror in his pocket. Where could they go? What if they
went to Hogwarts and the Death Eaters decided to attack the place? Harry sat down on the floor and
closed his eyes, sighing. He was so deep in thought that he didn't notice Ron sitting down next
to him in silence. Hermione placed all of
Harry's belongings in his trunk again and shrunk it in silence. Once the work was done, she
went over to her best friends and sat next to Harry. He smiled at her and pocketed his trunk.
Hermione rested her head on Harry's shoulder, closing her eyes, wondering what could she tell
Harry to make him feel better, but nothing came to her.

“Harry, you should get some sleep,” she finally whispered, lifting her head.

“How do you expect me to?” Harry snarled.

“I know,” she said barely above a whisper. “But you need your strength. Ron and I will mount
guard.” Ron nodded at this, smiling bravely.

“But you didn't sleep last night either,” Harry argued.

“I'll be alright... I'll sleep later. Please, Harry... We'll think of something.”
She begged, touching his arm. Harry opened his mouth to complain when Ron interrupted him.

“It'll do us no good if you're so tired that you can't pronounce a Stupefy,” he
said. Harry closed his mouth and after a moment's hesitation smiled weakly.

“Thank you,” he told them quietly, lowering his face. Hermione smiled widely and kissed his
forehead, crawling over to the entrance next to Ron. Within the next ten minutes, Harry had fallen
asleep. Hermione bit her lower lip as she glanced at him sleeping. It reminded her of the nightmare
she had had last night: Harry had died, and she had found his body in the middle of the battle
field while flashes of green light shot from everywhere around her.

“You can sleep if you want to,” Ron muttered. “You look terrible.”

“Why thank you,” Hermione retorted with a smile. “I can hold on a little bit longer.” Ron
nodded. They were in silence for a few minutes, and then... “Ron, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Last time you fought with Harry, it took you like two weeks or more to forgive him... What made
you apologize so fast to us?” Hermione wanted to know. Ron examined his wand as he shrugged.

“The slap was a good start,” he begun. “I just... I realized... Well... I *did* realize
that we were at War, you know, and that Harry... well...” Ron stuttered, blushing.

“That Harry may not have that much time left?” Hermione completed in a shaky whisper. Ron agreed
with his head.

“I do believe that he'll kick Voldemort's sorry ass, but... he could also die while
doing so.” his voice was so low that Hermione could barely catch the words.

“I know.”

“But he won't be alone,” he added.

“Words fail me,” Hermione whispered, starting to smile. “Have I just heard you talking
maturely?”

“You have little faith in me.”

“Can anyone blame me?”

“Shut up and go sleep with Harry.”

And for the first time in a while, Hermione actually complied with what Ron had told her to
do.

-

It felt as though she had just slept a second when she felt someone shaking her, but the cave
was again pitch black, so she supposed she had slept throughout the day? Harry's hands were
around her waist, cradling her close to him, but she had little time to ponder on that.

“Hermione, Harry, wake up!” Ron was whispering over and over again, still shaking them. He
sounded close to tears.

“*Waz* th'matter?” Hermione mumbled. She felt Harry stirring beside her.

“Wake up, wake up!” Ron urged again.

“Wha' is it?” Harry groggily asked. Hermione heard Ron swallowing.

“There are voices,” he started. “Voices outside the cave,” he added in a terrified whisper.

-+-+-

A/N: I hope you liked it... And that you'll leave me a review! On other note, I can't
tell when I'll be updating again; I'm writing chapter nine and it's becoming very
difficult, so I hope you'll be patient with me? I'm going on a rough time in my life, too,
and I'm sure that if I rush it, I'll end up writing a chapter where everyone dies or
something equally angsty- I'll try my best to finish soon, though. Thanks for reading!

-->



9. Tricked twice?
-----------------



A/N: Well, here it is: chapter nine. I hope that it's not too crappy, but it was the best
thing I could come up with these days. If it does suck, however, don't be too harsh on me.
Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Um... no. Just the plot.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

It was as if Ron had thrown a bucket of cold water over them. Harry and Hermione, still vaguely
disoriented because they had just woken up, stood up as they took out their wands.

“Voices? What voices?” Harry gruffly whispered.

“I don't know,” Ron answered, his voice trembling. “I can't recognize them,” he said.
Hermione couldn't see neither Harry's nor Ron's faces, and the fact that they
hadn't planned what to do if a circumstance like this arose contributed to her growing
panic.

“What about the Confundus?” she could only ask, feeling lost. Where would they go? They
hadn't warned anybody, they hadn't talked to anyone save Lupin-

“I didn't have the chance-” Ron started saying when they heard a few branches snapping, as
well as a sudden silence in the cave. Harry's emotions were going haywire, and he couldn't
tell why. There was fear, there was nervousness, but there was that emotion, that sensation rising
inside of him...

“We have to go. Now!” he exclaimed, grabbing Ron's and Hermione's arms just as a bright
red light, obviously a spell, flew right over their heads.

“Stupefy!” a woman's voice was heard, and another beam of red light bounced off the
wall.

“Look out!” Ron exclaimed, and Harry bent down as Hermione gasped. There were hurrying footsteps
coming from the tunnel, accompanied with excited exclamations. Without another thought, Harry
grabbed Ron's and Hermione's arms and closed his eyes so he could Apparate elsewhere...

“Yes!” a shout brought him out of his concentration. Harry immediately grabbed his wand, and
without second thought he cast the first thing that came to his mind.

“*Sectumsempra*!” he exclaimed. The beam of light illuminated the cave for a couple of
seconds, giving him the chance to see how many people were inside: three or four- A shriek was
heard when the spell met its objective.

“*Cru*-” another person began saying, when Harry felt Hermione rising next to him. A blue
beam shot out of her wand and hit the one who had been speaking, making him topple over like a wood
plank, but there was one more left.

“*Expelliarmus*!” Ron shouted this time, aiming at, hopefully, the remaining person. They
heard a dry sound, probably the wand hitting the walls, and a growl. For a couple of seconds
nothing happened, and then someone pushed Harry against Ron, causing them to hit the walls...

“Let me go!” Hermione shrieked in the darkness. Harry heard this and peeled himself off Ron so
quickly that he stumbled with one of the unconscious persons, causing him to fall on a puddle of
sticky liquid that he assumed to be blood.

But he didn't care. There was a white rage inside of him, almost blinding him... He stood
up, breathless, and felt pure, raw outrage and strength running in his veins, making him reckless.
He didn't care if he hit, injured, or killed: Hermione had to be safe. There was no other
option, no other way. His heart was beating so fast and hard that it nearly hurt him; his head was
pounding under the influence of whatever was he was feeling...

Hermione had been forced to drop her wand, and was about to punch the face of the man holding
her when she felt an invisible tidal wave sweep over her body. A tidal...? Hermione felt goosebumps
forming on her skin as the man holding her stopped fidgeting. Were had *that* came from?

“Let her go,” Harry growled, and a new wave of that raw magical power swept over the whole cave
now, endangering all of those inside, including Harry. One had to learn how to control such crude
force before unleashing it, and Hermione was certain that Harry had never done such thing. After he
had spoken, the dust particles hanging about in the air seemed to stay still for a couple of
seconds.

Harry was breathing heavily, gritting his teeth; his hands turned into fists. He seemed to grow
taller inside that small cave, towering over the man holding Hermione. His features had hardened:
his lips in a straight line, pale as a ghost; glaring down at the spot where he knew the man
trembled, keeping him immobilized without the need of wands or threats.

Hermione knew perfectly well that the magic was not directed at her, but she couldn't help
but to be scared. She had never seen Harry like this. Suddenly, the man (who she assumed was a
Death Eater) released her as if she was on fire and let out a high, prolonged shriek. Hermione
panted and backed away from him; her hand madly trying to get a hold of her wand; the man began to
thrash around the spot, still letting out those horrifying screams. She wanted to say something, do
something, but she her mind was completely blank-

Next thing Hermione felt was someone roughly gripping her arm, and then the familiar sensation
of Apparition. Once it was over, she wrenched her arm out of the person's grip and her sudden
dizziness made her fall on her back.

“Hermione,” a male voice reached her ears. She blinked a couple of times, focusing the face in
front of her.

“R- Ron?” Hermione asked. “Where are we? Where's Harry? Are you alright? Who *were*
those people?” she started firing questions in quick succession, standing up on wobbly legs. She
didn't know if her disorientation was a product of the adrenaline, the fear and the shock, or a
mixture of the three.

“I'm here,” Harry's deep voice made her turn around. There he was, unscathed and
unharmed, but his clothes were covered in blood. He looked worn down.

“Harry...” Hermione whispered, aghast. He stepped closer to her.

“Are you okay?”

How could he act so calmly, after the episode in the cave? What exactly *had* he done?
Neither Hermione nor Ron had ever doubted Harry's extraordinary magical power, but still...

“You- you used... Did you cast the *Crucio*?” Ron wanted to know. Harry's eyes fell on
him; taciturn green orbs that held nothing of Harry in them.

“I don't know,” he replied. Hermione raised her hand to her mouth at this. So Harry had not
only done wandless magic, but had also performed an Unforgivable Curse no less? Where his feelings
for her truly so strong?

“Where's your wand?” she questioned.

“I have it,” Ron said before Harry could speak. “I grabbed it and did side along Apparition,” he
added before handing the wand to Harry. Only then did Hermione truly pay attention to their
surroundings: they were in a sort of forest; the moon was shining so brightly that the shadows of
the trees hid them from prying eyes.

“Where are we?” Harry asked, also looking around.

“Far from Hogsmeade; near Hogwarts,” Ron responded.

“We have to tell Lupin or McGonagall,” Hermione stated. “We'll need the mirror.” she added,
gazing at Ron, who nodded. They both turned to look at Harry, who was staring at the ground with a
lost look. “Harry?” Hermione said, but he did not acknowledge her.

“Mate,” Ron said loudly, waving his hand in front of Harry's face. This time Harry did
react, and looked up at them looking disconcerted. “We have to use the mirror,” he told him.

“Oh... Yeah, sure...” Harry replied absently, taking the small mirror out of his pocket and
handing it to him. He glanced at Hermione before returning his gaze to the ground. Ron raised his
eyebrow at the mirror.

“Remus Lupin,” he spoke. His reflection blurred and then the mirror's surface turned black,
but no face appeared on the other side. “Lupin,” Ron repeated, making Hermione bit her lower lip
worriedly as she leaned over his arms to see the mirror, while Harry merely looked at them. The
blackness in the depths of the mirror vanished and Tonks appeared this time, with her pink hair and
big bags under her eyes.

“Ron? Ron, is that you?” she asked, widening her eyes.

“Where's professor Lupin?” Hermione asked. Tonks sighed.

“Full moon,” she simply said. “What did you need?” Ron and Hermione looked at each other; unsure
of what to say, but when they gazed at Harry he shrugged.

“It's a risk we have to take,” he told them.

“We need to go to Hogwarts,” Ron told Tonks, who frowned slightly and then nodded.

“Very well,” she said. “I'll tell someone to wait for you.” And with that her face blurred
and disappeared, leaving only a pale Ron staring back at himself and Hermione.

“Let's go, then,” Harry broke the silence. Ron and Hermione agreed with their heads and they
started walking in direction of their school as Ron handed the mirror back to Harry. The three
wands were out and ready for an attack, but nothing but their own steps followed them through the
night.

“Harry?” Hermione timidly asked. “Whose blood is that?”

“I casted the Sectumsempra on one of them,” Harry started, looking at the spots like he
hadn't noticed they had been there before. “Before I... Er... I slipped and fell into the
puddle,” he added.

“Oh.” Hermione said. She knew it was stupid, but she didn't quite know how to handle Harry
after what he had done. After all, wasn't this part of the reason why she had decided to go
after Ron during their sixth year? She was ashamed to admit it, but some part of her knew it was
true. *“I imagine Harry is a scary boyfriend,”* one of the girls had once said. Hermione stole
a glance at Harry, who was walking next to her, and let out a sigh.

That magic he had done... It had been because of her. And while that idea was flattering in its
own way, as well as amazing in the sense of how much power he had released, well... It *had*
been a bit frightening. They could all have died, since there had been such little room for the
magic to expound about. Hermione glanced at Ron, walking at her right side, and frowned slightly.
Ron wasn't scary. No... He wasn't scary, but he couldn't fulfill her in the way Harry
did. That was what she couldn't see last year.

Besides, truth to be told... Could anyone blame Harry for being `scary'? With all the crap
he has been trying to cope with since he was one, could anyone expect anything else? Hermione
thought, in all honesty, that Harry could have turned out a thousand times worse.

Harry Potter *was* a scary boyfriend. But Hermione Granger wasn't a coward.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand, surprising him. “You'll have to learn to control that
power before you do it again,” she told him. Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times,
for he had been expecting Hermione to be utterly horrified with what he had done.

“I... I didn't know I could do it,” Harry finally told her, blushing. “I'm- I'm
sorry,” he added.

“Don't be,” Ron cut in, grinning, making Harry and Hermione turn to look at him with their
eyebrows raise. “It was kind of creepy to watch, I'll admit it, but brilliant nonetheless,” he
said. At his best friends' looks, Ron also raised his eyebrows. “Oh, sorry... did I interrupt a
deep, contrite talk you two were about to have?”

“Oh shut it,” Hermione told him, as Harry shyly started to grin, looping her arm around
Ron's and her left one around Harry's.

“There it is,” Harry stated, pointing at the looming Hogwarts castle. There were no lights
coming from any of the windows, nor smoke coming from Hagrid's hut. The place looked so
forsaken that it was alarming. Their footsteps faltered as they neared the gates, and the wands
tips were lit in spite of the moonlight. And while they cautiously neared the familiar grounds, the
same question ran through the three heads: “have we been tricked?”

The still silence was broken when Hermione heard a rustling of leaves at their right. She
wrenched her arm away from Ron's and pointed her wand directly at the spot from where the sound
had come out. “There's something there,” Hermione whispered to both Ron and Harry, who followed
her example and also pointed them at the stubby bushes.

“At the count of three,” Harry whispered back. Hermione and Ron nodded. More rustling was heard
at this. “One... Two... Three!” he exclaimed, and the trio shouted Stupefy in unison. The
bush's leaves rustled because of the spells, and then there wasn't any other movement.
Harry was about to inspect what they had just stunned when a strangled gasp coming from Hermione
made him freeze.

“I must admit you have the most acute hearing, Miss Granger.”

-+-+-

A/N: Short chapter, I know, and some may think that it could be nothing but a filler, but allow
me to differ. Again, I can't tell when I'll be updating again, but I hope you liked this
one, and I also hope that you'll let me know if you did through a review. Thanks for
reading!

-->



10. Return to Hogwarts
----------------------



Return to Hogwarts

A/N: There aren't enough words to apologize for the huge delay in this chapter... I'm so
sorry guys! Now that I'm on vacation I'll try to update faster! Thank you for all your
lovely reviews; I hope you like this chapter!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot. *sigh*

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Before she even had the time to say something else, professor McGonagall found herself being
pointed at by three shaky wands, making her raise her eyebrows.

“What's the meaning of this?” she asked. “Didn't Nymphadora tell you that I'd be
picking you up?” Hermione was the first to lower her wand, swallowing.

“We're sorry, professor... I guess we're a bit paranoid,” she said. Their professor
nodded.

“You'll tell me why when we're inside the grounds... Excuse me,” she said, pushing Harry
and Ron aside and walking towards the bushes. Eyeing whatever they had stunned critically,
McGonagall stretched her hand and retrieved a limp Mrs. Norris from the mess of branches and
leaves. The trio widened their eyes and looked at each other in mute horror. “Argus is not going to
be happy about this,” McGonagall commented.

“Please, professor-” Ron started, “we didn't know it was Mrs. Norris; we just heard a noise
and, um, as Hermione said, we're, er, a bit paranoid, and-”

“Calm down, Weasley, it's not as if I'm going to murder you... I'll leave that task
to Argus,” McGonagall cut him off with a small smile. “We use Mrs. Norris as an alarm system. When
someone approaches the school she warns Mr. Filch, who in turn lets us know,” the professor
explained. Hermione and Ron nodded, while Harry just stared at her in silence. “Well now, let's
go in,” McGonagall said as she opened the gate while carrying the unconscious cat.

The walk through the grounds was fairly quiet, except for Hermione's story of the cave and
the attack. McGonagall listened attentively, absorbing every detail for she'd have to report
this to the Order. Hermione had the sense to skip the part of Harry going berserker on the Death
Eaters, and he was glad for it. He wanted to talk about that with the only person he was sure could
guide him, even though he was now only a portrait hanging in an office.

“... And that was why we were paranoid,” Hermione finally finished at the doorsteps of Hogwarts.
The professor nodded thoughtfully and sighed as she opened the doors.

“Very interesting,” she said. “I imagine that the Death Eaters saw you at the Three Broomsticks
and alerted the others...”

“That's what I thought,” Hermione replied. McGonagall placed Mrs. Norris on the floor and
un-stunned her; the cat meowed loudly and glared at them before walking away, probably in the
search of the caretaker.

“Professor,” Harry spoke for the first time. “I- We need to talk to the Headmaster. Is that
possible?” he seriously asked.

“Certainly,” McGonagall replied, surprised by her student's formality. “Follow me.”

As they walked through the Great Hall and reached the moving stairs, Harry looked around as if
he had never seen the castle before. Each step told a story for him, every single portrait meant
something; every crack in the wall seemed to tell him goodbye and at the same time represented
home; a place he had always loved and had meant safety. Would he see Hogwarts again? Would he live
to tell his kids about Norbert and Moaning Myrtle? He was aware of Ron's heavy steps at his
right and Hermione's hurrying feet on his left; he could see his professor in front of them,
and yet he felt in a dream like state-

“Are you okay?” Hermione murmured in his ear, breaking his train of thought. He looked up and
found that they were reaching the head master's gargoyle. Had they really walked that much
already?

“Yeah...” Harry trailed off.

“You sure?” Ron asked. Harry nodded as they stopped walking in front of the gargoyle leading to
the office. McGonagall turned around and stared at them in silence, waiting. Hermione grabbed
Harry's hand.

“Go ahead,” Hermione told him. “We'll wait for you here.”

“But... Don't you want to-?” Harry started to ask when Ron interrupted him.

“You'll tell us all about it, mate,” he said, pushing his friend towards the gargoyle.

“Lemon drops,” McGonagall said, and the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal the staircase. “You know
the way, Harry,” she added kindly. Harry nodded and sighed deeply, going up without a glance back.
He couldn't remember when he had entered that office for the last time... Had he entered it
after Dumbledore's death? After a short trip he entered the office, and he immediately noticed
that the objects that usually released smoke and whistles were not moving anymore. Fawkes's
perch was still empty... Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and walked towards the desk; he
felt thousands of eyes on him as he moved. The headmasters in the portraits muttered among them;
some even waved at him.

“Long time no see, Harry,” a familiar voice startled him. He whipped around quickly and
swallowed when he found himself staring at Dumbledore once more. Harry opened and closed his mouth
a few times.

“Professor Dumbledore,” he finally managed to say, forcing his legs to move closer to the
portrait. This was so strange... Dumbledore's death still seemed so irrational. “How... How
have you been?”

“I woke up a few days before your birthday,” Dumbledore told him with a smile. “What about
you?”

“We found a Horcrux,” Harry ejaculated. “We destroyed it.” he added, producing the real locket
out of his pocket so he could show it to Dumbledore, who leaned over in his seat to get a better
look at it.

“Amazing,” he commented as his smile grew. “Where did you find it? How did you destroy it?”

“It was tucked away in Grimmauld Place,” Harry started. “Hermione helped me find it, and then
she came up with the way to destroy it. She proposed to use my blood, and, well... It worked.” he
finished somewhat lamely.

“I wouldn't expect less from Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore retorted. “Congratulations,” he told
Harry, who looked away.

“I don't know what to do to find the cup,” he said in a low voice. “I don't know where
to start. What if I fail? What if I send Hermione and Ron to their deaths?” he continued, blushing.
“I would have never found the locket if it wasn't for Hermione... If it weren't for Ron in
that cave, I'd...” his voice died down at this.

“I surely must have told you before that my faith in you never faltered, Harry. I know you will
make it.” Dumbledore replied. “No one said it was easy.”

“I know.” A prolonged silence followed that last statement, only broken by the occasional owl
hooting or the dimmed howls that came from the forest.

“Harry...” Dumbledore finally said. “You will need Godric's sword.” At this words Harry
frowned as he lifted his face.

“What for?” he couldn't help but to ask. Dumbledore stroked his bear thoughtfully.

“You pulled it out of the hat, and you killed the basilisk with that sword. Had Tom known about
the existence of that weapon, he would have turned into a Horcrux, too...”

“But a sword won't help me kill Voldemort,” Harry said.

“You never know, Harry. I must insist.” Dumbledore said sternly. Harry opened his mouth to
argue, until he wondered when Dumbledore's suggestions had failed to help him... Leaving aside
the Horcrux incident. But if it had been the `real' locket, Dumbledore would have helped him
get one step closer to vanquishing Voldemort.

“Fine,” he finally agreed. “I'll take it.” Dumbledore beamed at his answer and nodded
towards the sword. Harry sighed and walked over to the glass case and removed the top lid, allowing
him to clumsily retrieve the sword. When he had first held it, he hadn't noticed how heavy it
was.

“We'll arrange for one or more of the professors to teach you how to wield it,” Dumbledore
told him from his portrait. Harry nodded, lifting the sword and walking towards his former
headmaster. He felt like some sort of warrior carrying the sword. Dumbledore would be asking him to
slay dragons next... he smiled at the memory of the first task. Before he could ask about the thing
that was most bothering him, Dumbledore opened his mouth again. “If you wish, you, Ms. Granger and
Mr. Weasley can stay in the school until term starts.”

“Until term starts?”

“Was I wrong in assuming you would not be returning to the school?” Dumbledore questioned,
eyebrows raised.

“No, sir,” Harry mumbled, a strange sense of shame washing over him.

“Yes... Minerva was quite disappointed at having to assign a new Head Girl,” the headmaster
replied with a smile. Harry agreed with his head and swallowed.

“One more thing, professor...” he trailed off. The old wizard slightly leaned over and waited
for him to start. “We... We were attacked tonight, while we were hiding in the cave you discovered
back in fourth year,” Harry started. “The remaining Death Eater grabbed Hermione and she didn't
have her wand... I told him to let her go,” Harry had to stop, for his throat felt strangely dry.
Dumbledore sported a slight frown, obviously listening to every word Harry was saying. “I was so
angry and scared, sir... A few days ago another Death Eaters tried to kill Ron and now one of them
had Hermione; I couldn't allow it; I was so frustrated! I didn't know what happened... I
just...” he trailed off before breathing in deeply. “I think I cast the *Crucio* on him, but I
hadn't realized it sir, I swear! I wasn't thinking straight, and-” Dumbledore lifted his
hand and Harry closed his mouth, anxiously waiting for his response.

“Did you also perform wandless magic when Mr. Weasley was in danger?” he asked.

“No,” he admitted barely above a whisper. Did this mean that he didn't care for Ron at all?
Was he a bad friend for unleashing such massive power only because Hermione was in danger? Did it
make Harry an ungrateful bastard?

“You're not a bad person, Harry,” Dumbledore's gentle voice broke through his train of
thought. “Forgive me if this question seems impertinent, but are you and Ms. Granger dating?” Harry
blushed and scratched the back of his neck as he nodded, not able to meet Dumbledore's gaze.
“Do you love her?” Harry could feel the heat coming off his cheeks at this question, but he firmly
met Dumbledore's eyes this time around.

“Yes,” he stated. “But I also love Ron as a friend!” he insisted.

“Naturally,” Dumbledore relented. “I hope that it won't happen, but if a situation in which
Mr. Weasley is in extreme danger arises, you'll try to save him by all means necessary, even if
it means having to resort to wandless magic.”

“It's just...” Harry began, feeling the urge to explain himself, “It starts like... like a
small electric shock... And then it grows, and it sorts of... guides me... It makes me more...
powerful,” he struggled to describe that feeling of *being* strong; of being able to get
through whatever problem arose. “I think Hermione feels the same way, but I can't be
sure...”

“I see,” Dumbledore retorted thoughtfully. “When did this begin, Harry?”

“When I... er... when I kissed her,” he mumbled. He thought that he knew what it was like to be
deep in the claws of embarrassment and awkwardness, but he stood corrected. Dumbledore nodded,
leaning back on his seat as he stroked his beard again.

“Interesting...” he only said. “Very interesting indeed.” Harry shrugged.

“I guess...” he left the sentence hanging. Apparently, the conversation was over. “Well,
professor, I'll be... um... leaving now. Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Dumbledore replied. “When you leave, would you please ask Minerva if she can
come?”

“Yes,” Harry simply replied, hardening the grip around the handle of the sword as he walked
towards the door of the room. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it, opening the door...
“Sir?” he called.

“Yes, Harry?” he heard Dumbledore's reply.

“I miss you,” Harry confessed, and left before Dumbledore could utter a reply.

Harry quickly got down the stairs, the sword dangling in his hand, and the back of the gargoyle
jumped aside so he could get out. Ron was sitting on the floor; Hermione looked nervous and stood
next to professor McGonagall, who eyed the sword with her eyebrow up.

“Professor, Dumbledore was wondering if you could go to the office,” Harry said, not wanting to
talk about the sword. Dumbledore would tell her anyway, he presumed.

“Certainly. The password for the Gryffindor common room is the same one you had at the end of
term; please go there at once,” she ordered them sternly before disappearing up the staircase. The
three of them waited until the gargoyle had jumped back into place before speaking.

“You were in there a long time,” Ron was the first one to break the silence. “Why did he give
you the sword?”

“He said I might need it,” Harry responded. “We'll stay here until term starts,” he
added.

“Wonderful” Hermione exclaimed. “We can do some research on hexes, curses, charms... We can go
over some transfiguration stuff and maybe Potions!”

“Potions?” Ron asked, pursing his lips in disgust.

“Yes, potions,” Hermione calmly replied. “Learning how to prepare antidotes and such. Do you
think they'll have something about Horcruxes in the library?”

“No,” Harry immediately said. “It's a banned subject in Hogwarts.”

“Well, it won't hurt to check,” Hermione argued, making both boys smile. “Perhaps I could
even send Viktor a letter, asking him about them-”

“You can't,” Ron contradicted her this time. “It wouldn't be safe with everybody reading
everybody's mail.”

“You're right,” Hermione agreed. “Mm... You know, Ron, I really like you when you make
sense,” she added. Ron frowned.

“And what's that supposed to mean?” Ron retorted, already getting red.

“Nothing,” Hermione told him innocently, hooking her arm around Harry's. “Let's go eat
something... I'm starving.”

“If you think you'll get out of this acting like me you're wrong,” Ron huffed, making
Harry laugh.

“You know, mate,” he said to Ron, “you're digging up your own grave by making those
comments...”

“Typical!” Ron exclaimed as they started to walk in direction of the kitchens. “Now that
you're dating you are entitled to take your loved one's side and I'm the third wheel,
right?” he ranted. “I should've seen this coming... *What* makes me like you two, I
don't know!” he added dramatically.

“Pssst... You sound like your mother,” Hermione hissed with a smile, elbowing Ron in the
ribs.

“Oh stuff a sock in it, Hermione. When we enter the kitchens, I'll refuse to pay Dobby for
his services. He's only a house elf after all,” Ron said. Hermione's cheeks reddened and
Harry only sighed, looking down at the sword in his hands. He didn't like how, in the dim
lights of the hallways, the rubies shone like fresh blood.

After they a delicious dinner -and having paid Dobby- Harry, Hermione and Ron made their way to
the Gryffindor common room, grateful and contented with the fact of sleeping on beds and returning
to a place they knew secure. As Ron opened the portrait and climbed up, carrying Godric's
sword, Harry grabbed Hermione's hand before she could follow their red headed friend.

“I want to talk to you,” Harry mumbled. “Can I?” Hermione, surprised, nodded.

“Are you guys coming?” Ron loudly asked them from inside the common room.

“Just a second,” Hermione replied. “I think I can see him rolling his eyes from here,” she told
Harry with a smile as the portrait closed. At the sight of Harry's serious face, though, her
smile faded. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing important,” Harry said, staring at the floor. “It was something Dumbledore said... And
it made me wonder...” Hermione patiently waited for him to finish his idea, confused. “Do you
really want to skip this school year?” he finally asked.

“We've gone over this,” Hermione told him firmly. “I'll skip this year and the next one
too, if that's what it takes.” Harry looked away.

“You knew that you were going to be Head Girl, and... You've always loved classes so
much...” he said quietly.

“I don't care about that.”

“But those are your dreams,” Harry replied. Hermione crossed her arms.

“Why does it matter if they were? I want to help you; your future is more important than mine
anyway-” Harry frowned at this.

“Don't ever do that again!” he cut her off. Hermione widened her eyes, startled by the tone
and volume of his voice. “Don't you put yourself below me,” he growled.

“Harry...”

“Don't. If that's where you place yourself in my life, Hermione, then I've been an
ungrateful bastard after all,” Harry bitterly said, recalling his talk with Dumbledore.

“I'm sorry,” Hermione said in a small voice, making Harry grow more livid.

“Why are you apologizing? I should be the one doing that if that's the way you really feel,”
he barked, turning around.

“Going somewhere?” Hermione asked, now starting to sound annoyed.

“I need a walk,” Harry snarled.

“Don't do that,” Hermione snapped. “Running away from your feelings won't make anything
better.” At his lack of response, Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and went to stand in front
of him with her hands on her hips. “Potter, look at me,” she ordered. Harry glared at her. “Glaring
at me won't take you anywhere, you know,” she said with a very Malfoy- esque attitude.

“If you want to stay here at Hogwarts I won't mind,” Harry lied venomously, but Hermione
could see right through it.

“You're being stupid,” she squarely told him.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Stop acting like a three year old and listen to me!” Hermione finally exploded, stamping her
foot on the floor. “I'm sorry for what I said, okay? You're not the only one who has issues
here! You know you matter more to me than school, Harry. I'll tell you that everyday if
that's what you want to hear- I love you more than a Head Girl badge!” Hermione finished. Harry
blinked a few times and breathed in deeply, running his fingers through his hair.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered.

“Good,” Hermione seethed. “Now could we go to sleep?” Harry nodded and they both opened the
portrait and climbed through the hole without talking. Ron wasn't in the common room; he
probably was in the boy's dorms already. Harry and Hermione awkwardly wished each other
goodnight and went on different directions without a glance back. When Harry reached their room he
entered and closed the door by leaning on it heavily, releasing a long sigh.

“Big fight?” Ron asked from his bed. Harry grunted as a response and dragged his feet over to
his bed, throwing himself on it. “I'll take it as a yes, then.”

Fifteen minutes passed in complete silence before Harry and Ron heard someone knocking on the
door.

“You get it,” Harry grunted. Ron shook his head with a sigh and walked over to the door and
opened it. As he had imagined, Hermione stared back at him, biting her lower lip. Ron sighed again
and pointed at Harry's bed over his shoulder, but Hermione didn't move.

“Are you... Are you be okay with this?” she shyly asked him. Ron nodded and stepped aside,
allowing her to pass, and closed the door after her. Ron walked to his bed and smiled when he heard
Harry's `ooof!' as Hermione threw herself over him like a bag of potatoes, hugging him.

“I will only say this once,” Ron suddenly spoke, making Harry and Hermione look at him in
surprise. “If I hear even *one* moan, I'll kick one of you out!” he threatened, pointing
his index finger accusingly at the couple. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other.

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley,” both chanted as a response. Ron's face reddened as he cursed them under
his breath, sitting on his bed and closing the curtains around it.

“I mean it!” he exclaimed one last time, and his statement did nothing but make Harry and
Hermione burst in laughter.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

A/N: There it is. Dammit, why do I like writing H/Hr fights so much?! I actually really enjoyed
writing this chapter, so I hope that you'll find it worthwhile. Don't forget to review if
you liked it... Thanks for reading!

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11. Author's note
-----------------



A/N: *sigh*... I've never really liked these authors's notes, but I own you guys an
apology, or that's how it feels.

I honestly think that Harry and Hermione wanted to elope in the seventh book, and JK didn't
let them... So I guess that we fanfic writers will humbly take the liberty. Also, I refuse to
believe that after all Dumbledore was just a manipulating old man that kept Harry alive only
because he wanted to defeat Voldemort. Oh, and did I mention that I didn't feel sorry for Ron
in the locket scene? And what is it with Rowling's fixation of leaving one year old boys
orphans?

So you know what? Screw the crappy epilogue, screw all the unnecessary deaths, and screw Snape
dying!

Let Herons and Chocos live with their definition of romance. I prefer the delusional, militant,
and anvil- dodging one.

I am not giving up on this story. I seriously considered it, for a while, but I won't. Now
that I've swallowed and wrapped my head around DH, it's time to pick up the thread
again.

I hope you wonderful people won't be disappointed with my evil, evil version of the last
book.

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