Understanding

chocodance

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 27/04/2007
Last Updated: 18/07/2007
Status: in_progress

The war is raging, relationships are falling apart and the trio has difficulty comprehending it all. Sometimes all you need is someone who understands.

Chapters

1. untitled

2. untitled

3. chapter 3 (finally)

1. untitled

She should have seen it coming.

They were two completely different people, in nearly every respect. Harry was essentially the only thing they had in common, and they likely would never have talked to each other after first year if it wasn't for him.

So why was she so surprised when it all fell apart? Why was the shock so fresh, the pain so raw and great?

She would be lying if she said she hated Ron. No, after all the awful things he had said and often screamed at her, she did not hate him and she doubted she ever could. Hermione loved him deeply, even if he drove her positively mad. It's just that this time, all the love in the world was not enough. They just couldn't make a relationship work anymore, and she was madder than Trelawney if she was going to keep believing otherwise.

The bickering was no big deal at first. Throughout their schooling, they would always bicker about the stupidest things. Now that she looked back on it, S.P.E.W., Krum, Lavender, and everything else they ever fought about seemed like nothing. After all they had done and seen and been through on this godforsaken, never ending horcrux hunt made all of their school worries seem so petty. Hermione felt as though she'd give almost anything to have those simpler days back.

It was the summer after sixth year that they began to develop their relationship. As much as Hermione wanted to hold it off because she felt like they needed to concentrate on the tremendous task before them, Ron insisted. He wanted her, needed her now more than ever and she knew he was hurting and scared of what lay ahead. After an intoxicated dance at Bill and Fleur's wedding and first kisses that would forever remain blurred in her memory, Hermione decided to give in. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? And hadn't everyone always said that they would get together anyway, because they were simply perfect for each other?

Several months into the horcrux hunt, they were weary and growing desperate. While they had only managed to locate and destroy two horcruxes, Voldemort's power seem to grow more by the day. Communication with Lupin and other Order members revealed a disturbing amount of new killings every day, and even though they knew some of them, they realized it was only a matter of time before it hit very close to home. It didn't really matter whom, people were dying and they were still struggling to find answers. By spring they were forced to cut down communication with the Order drastically, so they were left mostly on their own. Three young adults, barely of age, forced to grow up too early and save the world before it was destroyed. It was an enormous burden, leaving no time for teenage problems.

The fights began to move from smaller things to bigger matters. Some days after a rough fight or a close brush with death, they would hold each other in their little battered tent, discussing love and life and a future beyond all this, whispering as not to wake Harry, though she knew he hardly ever slept anyway. Ron's vision of the future was much different than hers; he wanted a loving housewife with ten little Weasleys and a dog and a lovely house on a hill; she wanted to go on and do great things. After restoring the wizarding world, she would fight for the rights of elves and werewolves and giants and maybe pursue a career in medicine or teaching, she wasn't sure which. She didn't want to be an Auror anymore, she was so sick of fighting already, so tired of taking down the bad guys. What she did know, however, was that she wanted to make a difference in this world, which would take time, and even in five years she doubted she would be ready to start creating Weasley offspring. This upset Ron, of course, since he didn't understand why she still wanted to struggle for the elves and giants when she could be living such a peaceful existence with him and their little house.

That was another thing about Ron. He loved her dearly, but he never could understand her.

They began to fight more and more as the days passed. At first Hermione attributed it to stress; they were all so tired and overburdened that they would naturally be prone to fighting. Harry never fought, though, and it nearly broke Hermione's heart every time he would ask them to stop fighting with a sunken face and empty green eyes. Harry was suffering so much, she knew; he hardly ate or slept or even talked, and it felt so selfish to keep fighting. The world was counting on them, and she was still bickering with Ron over stupid things, wasting time while more people were dying still. It all just seemed so... pointless.

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The last fight, the one that ended it all, happened earlier that day. They had received a rare breakthrough in the location of another horcrux, and they faced their task eagerly, relieved to finally be doing something again. When they approached the run-down building where it was suspected to be, the sound of several people apparating filled the air, causing them to momentarily panic.

They barely had time to draw their wands before five death eaters were in front of them, murder painted on their faces. Barely seconds went by, curses and hexes flew every which way, three death eaters fell, Harry's wand had been taken from his grasp. Hermione saw the two death eaters point their wands at Ron and Harry, grinning madly, and she instinctively screamed “NO!” and jumped toward Harry, knocking him to the ground just in time as a flash of green buzzed closely over her shoulder.

Adrenaline pumping, she took out one bewildered death eater and Harry the other before she fell back to the ground, breathing fast and sweating. She looked at Ron for a moment, terrified of what she might see, but he had managed to dodge their curse and was sitting up, gazing at her with terrified eyes. She glanced back at Harry, who looked at her blankly before quickly enveloping her in a hug that nearly crushed her.

“Hermione... why would you... don't ever do that again,” he whispered urgently between breaths, apparently unable to form much of a complete thought.

“Hey, it's okay... you'd do the same for us,” Hermione whispered back, not knowing what else to say.

They separated, Harry looking so lost and sad it made her heart ache again. “Just promise me you won't try something like that ever again. If I lost you...” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence, though they both know what he meant.

“You know I can't promise that,” she said, giving him a gentle smile and taking his hand, squeezing slightly.

“Please,” Harry pleaded, his voice breaking, “promise me.”

Hermione gave him a look of complete resolution, shaking her head ever so slightly. Nothing he could say would ever change her mind, and they both knew it. Harry was unable to look at her as he helped her to her feet. He simply turned around and walked to the house, saying nothing.

Hermione watched him sadly before turning back to Ron. There was a blank look on his face, his mouth set in a thin line as he simply stared at her, speechless.

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The horcrux lead turned out to be nothing, so the three of them walked back to their tent in the woods in despairing silence. They apparated to another location much farther away, knowing that their previous hideaway was no longer safe. Hermione was not surprised that it was once again another forest. They set up camp without speaking, falling into a routine that was gaining in familiarity. Harry left them afterwards; he liked to take walks when he wanted to be alone, though he never went too far.

Hermione could not quite recall everything that was said in the fight soon after, though she knew the basics. At first, Ron had been terrified she had been killed, and relieved to see she was fine. Later on, when he was able to take it all in, the fact that wands had been pointed at both boys and she had jumped for Harry had been brought up. After all, Ron could have just as easily been killed. Hermione didn't know quite what to say, she really didn't think it was something to fight over. There was no time to think, just to react, and she saw Harry first and instinctively jumped for him. It was nothing, really, but Ron did not think so.

He said it was always about Harry, it always had been him first. Even now they were together, she still thought of Harry before him, and it hurt. She got angry; weren't they supposed to look out for each other, love each other, after all? He was being a selfish prat, of course she loved him.

Though Ron was having trouble seeing it her way. He was closer to her, curses were shot at both the boys, and her instinct told her to save the other one. He saw the terror on Harry's face as he held her, grasping her as if he would never let her go. He had seen her almost give up her life for him, then heard her tell him he couldn't stop her from doing it again. He saw the look on his face as he walked away, looking as he might simply break into pieces. It was then, Ron said, he knew she was no longer his. Never had been. She loved both her boys more than words could express, but she could never be his the way he had wanted. It simply would never work, and he was beginning to see that. He was tired of all the fighting, the lies, the pretending, and he couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't stand one more fight, he was so sick of it all and so was she.

Hermione protested, they had been through the “it's not working” argument before. There was a sense of sadness in his voice, though, such a tone of finality that she had never heard until now, and it scared her. He wasn't angry at her, he was coming to terms with the inevitable, as painful as it was.

She heard Ron zip the tent behind her, collapsing and letting out barely stifled sob. Hermione hardly ever heard Ron cry, and it terrified her. It was then she knew it was over, truly over.

She felt like she should cry... scream.... do something .... but all she felt was numb.

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It was night, and very dark, since the cover of trees hid most of the bright stars. Hermione was sitting on the edge of a large stream, listening to the comforting sounds of the water and an owl hooting nearby. She knew she had been gone a while, and she should go back to the camp, but she couldn't bring herself to. Going back meant facing Ron, and it was something she was not ready to do just yet.

Her mind had been working on overdrive, buzzing with thoughts that seemed to drift all over the place. She thought of the next horcrux, and where it might be, why it wasn't where it should have been, and how the death eaters knew. There seemed to be so many of them lately, and she wondered if all of this really was useless, this attempt to fight when they seemed so doomed to fail.

She thought of Ron, and their earlier days. She thought of the fights, big and small. She remembered sitting in Ginny's room, crying and telling her what a big prat Ron was. He didn't understand, he never did, but why were they always fighting? Ginny would only say that opposites attract, Ron could be immature sometimes, he would come to his senses, it would work out, wait and see.

She remembered Ginny telling her that Harry broke it off, and how she didn't understand. She knew he was noble and wanted to save her suffering, but she wanted him. She knew they came from very different places, and had very different experiences, but they were perfect together, after all. They made each other so happy, why couldn't he see that? Her mother was gushing over Hermione and Ron, and if only Harry would come back to her they could be a wonderful, big, happy Weasley family like they were destined to be. She knew the war was at hand, but she refused to see it and instead thought of the big happy family with lots of red-headed children and a dog and a house on the hill. Why wouldn't he come back to her, when it was so simple?

Hermione recalled leaving the Burrow on the first night of the horcrux hunt, and coming back weeks later to Grimmauld Place to face the people they left without telling. She remembered the piercing stares, the looks, the disappointment. She could see Ginny's face so clearly in her mind, giving her a pained and despising look that spoke volumes in itself.

He said he wanted to protect me, didn't want anyone getting hurt, that's why he had to go alone. It was why I let him go. But why did he bring you two? Why wasn't I good enough? I can fight! I'm an equal! It's always been about you, you know. I just don't get it. Why you, and not me?

Ginny never really understood, either.

It never could be sunshine and daisies while the world was falling apart around them. Maybe it was better, then, to end it now. Maybe Ron would come back to her after this was all over and they could focus on their future instead of just surviving.

That was what Hermione wanted to believe, but she could still hear Ron's voice in her mind so clearly, his voice so final and full of heartbreak. This wasn't just a postponement, it was the end.

For the first time that day, she let the moisture build in her eyes without hastily wiping them. She placed her head in her hands and simply let the tears fall. What would she say, anyway, to herself? There was nothing to make her feel better now, her rational mind knew that. She loved Ron, she tried to make it work, she leaned on him for support in this living hell and now he was leaving her. It was true he would still be there, and care for her, but it wasn't the same anymore, and she knew they couldn't simply go back to the way things were before and pretend like it all never happened.

The crunching of leaves alerted her to another presence nearby, and Hermione instinctively grabbed her wand and pointed in the direction of the noise, her mind automatically switching into battle-mode. In the darkness she made out Harry's form, raising his hands in the air in a gesture of peace.

“Hermione,” he said, voice breaking the silence of the night, “it's me.”

Sighing, she dropped her wand and turned back to the river, hastily trying to wipe away her tears. She didn't need him asking questions that she wasn't ready to answer. She needed more time to think it all through.

She heard him walk closer and sit down next to her. She could feel his gaze, but she couldn't look at him. Not yet.

“It's late. What are you doing out here?”

She shook her head slightly and bit her lip, holding back more tears. She did not trust her voice enough to answer him, and kept her gaze intensely focused on the stream.

She heard him sigh and he looked away from her, hoping it would convince her to talk. “Ron didn't want to talk to me either, just kept himself shut up in the tent. Did you fight again?” He asked, but he had a feeling it was much more than that this time, and he could tell she had been crying.

“Something like that,” she spat bitterly, aware she definitely wasn't ready to talk about this. The pain was still too fresh and her emotional side was running out of control... she hadn't had time to reason with it all yet.

Harry was silent for a moment, gazing at the stream. He then whispered so quietly she almost didn't hear him, “It's over, isn't it? You broke up.”

He knew them too well, really. Did she honestly think she could keep it from him? “Yes,” she whispered back, voice breaking. What was it about all this that reduced her to a weeping teenager? Why did she have to come off as so weak and helpless?

“Oh. I, uh, I'm really sorry,” he stated simply. He knew he sounded stupid, but he didn't know what else to say. That had been happening to him a lot lately, he realized.

Hermione didn't say anything, she just simply kept looking off in the distance. She bit her lip like she was deep in thought and let her hands fall from her knees to the ground, holding herself up. Without thinking, Harry placed his hand on hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Do you feel like talking about it?” Harry offered, and was relieved to see the beginnings of a smile on her face.

“Are you sure? Because if I remember right, the last time a girl tried to talk to you about emotions and relationships, it didn't turn out so well.”

Harry chuckled. “Well, you're different than Cho. She cried all the time, and... you, uh, don't,” he paused, wondering what he was doing.

“Astute observation, Harry. Please continue.”

“What I'm saying is...something is wrong here. I think you should talk about it, you know. Get it all out of your system so I don't have to worry about you murdering Ron in his sleep. We can't afford to hate each other right now.”

“I know,” Hermione said irritatedly, “I know it's an awful time for all this, but I don't hate him. Honestly.”

“But you're still upset,” he stated, meeting her gaze as she shot him an annoyed look.

“Of course I'm upset, why wouldn't I be?” she snapped. “Once again, he's mad at me for something stupid. Something I barely had any control over. I didn't think, I just reacted, and he hated my choice.”

“But... there's more to it, isn't there?”

Of course Harry knew better. He had been with both of them long enough to know that as small as Ron's emotional range could be sometimes, he would not break up with her just because of that. He also knew she would have hexed his balls off if that was the case.

“Well, that's how the argument started out. He said we couldn't ever truly be together in the way he wanted, and how he was sick of all the fighting and everything, he couldn't take it anymore.”

“Oh,” was all Harry could say. He heard her sniffle and saw her wipe her eyes again. They sat in silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the night. Harry noticed it was growing cold, and he could see his breath in the air. “Hermione.... are you cold?”

“No,” came the immediate reply, though he knew she was lying. He squeezed her hand and noticed it was indeed very cold.

“You're freezing and you know it,” he said back, moving closer to her. “Come here,” he motioned with his arms, asking her to sit with him. She scooted toward him and sighed gently, letting him wrap his arms around her as she rested her head on his chest. He had been smart enough to dress properly for the weather, unlike her, and Hermione was drawn to the warmth of his body. He moved his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to warm her up before resting them around her again.

“Better?” He asked.

“Mmm,” came her muffled reply, and Harry smiled a little, surprised at himself. They hardly ever laughed or smiled anymore.

They let silence overtake them again, content to listen to the owls hooting in the distance and enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other. Harry began to feel drowsy, and he wondered if Hermione had fallen asleep herself until she spoke again.

“Harry?” came her small voice, drawing his attention.

“Yeah?” he replied sleepily, holding back a yawn.

“Why did you break it off with Ginny?”

The question took him by surprise. Both her and Ron had been careful not to mention Ginny's name in case it would upset him, and he felt they didn't need to know his feelings on the matter. “You know why. She would have been in danger here. I don't want her to get hurt because of me.”

“But you took us,” Hermione replied exasperatedly, as if explaining something from Hogwarts, a History for the hundredth time. “So that excuse doesn't work. There were plenty of times when you could have run off by yourself, and you didn't.” She paused, looking deep in thought. “You can tell me the real reason, you know. I won't judge you,” she said, her tone gentler.

Harry rested his chin on the top of her head, frowning. Of course he knew she wouldn't judge him. The problem was, he wasn't entirely sure of the real reason himself. At the time, the decision just seemed... right. “I told you, I didn't want her hurt,” he lied.

“If you're going to stick with that logic, it means you don't care if Ron and I get hurt, since you let us come so easily.”

“That's not true,” Harry replied quickly. He knew, deep down, that he should have left them behind. He had never wanted them to become so involved in all of this. He had come to terms with the fact that he would likely die in this long ago, it was something he had known for a long time. What he couldn't deal with, however, was the thought of either of them badly hurt or dying.

Why did he let them come, then?

It was something he had thought of but did not want to admit to himself, because it felt like a betrayal to Ginny. He liked her, and she did make him happy for that short time they were together, but the truth remained, however hurtful it was to her.

He didn't need her like he needed them. He enjoyed being with Ginny, but he needed Hermione and Ron. Thoughts of being without her didn't strike him as painful, and he knew this quest would be very, very hard without Ron and Hermione to keep him sane. They knew more than Ginny did what he had been through and the immensity of what he was now facing. They both had helped him out more than he could have ever asked for. Ginny, however, would likely just want to snog and gossip and talk about futures he was afraid they wouldn't even have, pretending like they weren't facing the end of the world.

She never really understood him, really. He wasn't sure if she ever could, even when it was all over.

“Then what's the real reason? She wasn't cheating on you, was she?” Hermione asked anxiously. If she had, Hermione would hex her into next week. She had been learning some rather nasty ones lately.

“No,” Harry stated. “She just... she wouldn't know what to do on this whole thing. I like her company, I just...”

“Don't need her,” Hermione interrupted, finishing the thought for him. Harry was taken aback by how perceptive she was. “You like her, but knew she would never be happy doing this, that she's meant for other things. You don't need her the way you do Ron and I, and she doesn't really need you.”

“Oh. Uh... right,” Harry stammered.

“When this is all over, are you going back to her?”

He paused before answering, taking a deep breath of chilly air. “I don't know, honestly. She... I already feel like I'm a changed person, you know? I know it sounds stupid, but after some of the stuff we've done... I'm not the same. Even when we were at Hogwarts, whenever I tried to talk about something serious... she'd always change the subject, like she didn't want to talk about it. All she wanted to talk about was us, or snogging or gossip or something else.”

“She didn't understand you,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly, but Harry wasn't taken aback this time.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “that's pretty much it.” He could feel Hermione shiver and snuggle closer into his body, and he knew they should be leaving soon because it was growing colder and he didn't want her getting sick. “We should go back to camp now,” he said, waiting for her response and getting none. Frowning, he brushed some of her bushy hair away from her face and saw that her eyes were watering again. “Hermione... are you okay?”

She wiped at her eyes. “It hurts,” she whispered, and he knew she was thinking of the breakup again. He began to rub comforting circles on her back with one hand, hoping it would help. “It hurts more than I thought it would. I should have seen it coming, I... oh, I'm sorry Harry, I'm being silly. Honestly, what's wrong with me, I...”

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Harry interrupted her. “I know it hurts. But... I think, in time, the pain will go away,” he added, running a hand through her tangled hair. “It will be okay someday.”

“But what if it's not okay?” she whispered again, almost afraid to speak it. “What if we're not going to be okay? Not just with this relationship thing, but... with all this. Saving the world and everything. Sometimes it just seems so hopeless... and I get scared. Scared that something will happen to one of you, or both, and that we won't have a someday to look forward to.”

Harry held her tighter, suddenly overcome with an urge to protect her. He didn't want to think of losing her at all. “I can't promise that we'll all make it, or that you won't get hurt, as much as I want to be able to. I can promise, though, that I'll try everything in my power to make sure that tomorrow comes for us. I promise I'll try and give you a future, where you can be whatever you want and be with whomever in peace. I owe you that much, anyway, after all you've done for me,” he said, a nearly overpowering sensation of genuine love for the girl he held growing within him.

He kissed the top of her head gently and stroked her hair, enjoying the sensation of having her in his arms. “I just need you to promise me... that you won't try something like today again. I don't want you to die for me, I couldn't take it,” he said quietly, dreading the answer he knew would come.

Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly back. “You know I can't promise you that. I don't need you pulling any heroics either and dying for us. The world needs you,” she paused, taking a deep breath, “and I need you.”

Harry grinned slightly. “You know I can't promise you that. I need you too, you know. More than I think you know.”

Hermione shifted beneath him so she could look at his face. He met her eyes, searching and questioning, his intense gaze never leaving her... it was then she knew.

Neither of them understood why they had been thrown into this mess. They didn't understand how one man could do so much harm. Neither of them comprehended why Voldemort and his supporters could do what they did, or how they would be able to fix it and make the world right again. The didn't know what fate had planned for them, or how they would be able to deal with it if one of them was lost.

There was one thing they both comprehended in that moment, however.

They understood each other, more completely than she had ever realized. She knew he couldn't promise her tomorrow would be sunshine and daises, but it didn't matter. They were together, and doing what they needed to do without question. The world was falling apart around them, and they couldn't pretend like they weren't terrified of losing each other, of losing everything. They had to keep fighting, to give the world a chance for a future despite the risks because it had to be done. To pretend otherwise was wrong, and they both knew this.

They understood each other, and they always had.

This thought gave Hermione a great deal of comfort as she snuggled back into Harry's arms, content for the moment to be safe in his comforting embrace.

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Well, I hope that wasn't too mushy or angsty, I haven't written anything in a while so I can't honestly tell anymore. If you made it this far into it, you deserve a cookie. This didn't have a beta either, so the likely numerous mistakes are my own.

Thanks for reading, and I hope y'all enjoyed it! I'm intending for this to be a one-shot for now. I'd like to continue it, but I'm really bad at committing to anything. Ugh. So if I don't write anything else before book 7 comes out- HHR 4EVA, keep the faith no matter how craptastic the last book is, more inspirational junk that we don't need cause our ship is awesome without canon anyway, blah blah blah. Yay! **tosses cookies**

Oh, and sorry about all the big spaces between paragraphs. I'm not sure why they're there, or how to get rid of them. Curse my technical ignorance!

2. untitled

Harry never wanted to believe that things would get this bad.

He had heard stories about Voldemort's last ascension to power. He listened to those in the Order whisper about the dying, the despair, and the utter hopelessness they often felt. He remembered Moody showing him the picture of the old Order, and naming off everyone that had been brutally murdered or destroyed. Harry listened attentively and vaguely grasped the sense of tragedy that surrounded it all. He knew Voldemort had killed his parents, yes, and was responsible for Cedric and Sirius and the destruction of countless others. Some one had told him once that he couldn't ever know what it was truly like to live in those dark times, however, unless he had been there. You only know that kind of utter desperation and horror if you've lived through it yourself.

Harry used to feel angry at remarks like those. He had come into contact with Voldemort and his forces often enough, and he had stared into his horrid red eyes and cheated death. What did they know, anyway? He'd accomplished much more than many of the Order. Who were they to tell him what it felt like?

Looking back on it, Harry knew he had it all wrong. He didn't know, and he wished with every fiber of his being that he had never discovered for himself, or that the people closest to him had to.

All the wishing in the world could not change anything, he knew. Wishing can't bring back anyone from the dead, wishing won't make the pain go away. Harry wished he could make things okay again somehow, though they would never be fully right again.

Only a few weeks had passed since the night Hermione and Ron had broken up, though it had seemed much longer to Harry. The first week they couldn't even talk to each other, and Harry got so sick of the silence that he almost wished they'd bicker with each other again just so he wouldn't get wrapped up in his own thoughts for too long. He didn't want to dwell on his newfound feelings for Hermione. She was still hurting from Ron, though she seemed to make peace with it for the most part. Now was not the time for such things, however. As much as Harry hated it, he knew he had to let it go until the time was right.

Hermione started to work harder than ever on her already relentless research, but they all still felt they were getting nowhere. They hadn't had any contact with the Order for almost two months, and Harry was anxious for news, hoping they were making more progress somehow.

They stayed at a muggle inn one night during a bad storm, and they were horrified to find out even in that small village, the muggles were starting the realize something horribly wrong was going on. For all the muggles could tell, the people were just vanishing into thin air and dropping dead for no reason, and they were understandably growing very scared. Harry knew this meant Voldemort's power was very close to, if not already at, the level of his previous reign. His supporters were growing in number while they still had nothing else to go on.

Even though they were all able to lay down on their first real bed in months that night, none of them were able to sleep.

Another week came and went. Harry became so sick of not hearing any real news that he decided they should go visit Grimmauld Place. God knew they could do with a visit to the Weasleys and some of Molly's cooking. They wanted to feel normal again, if only for a few hours. Even Hermione couldn't find any energy to protest like she normally would, so it was decided.

As soon as Harry entered the dark and haunted interior of the house of Black, he immediately got the strangest sense of foreboding. His eyes first caught Moody at the table, his intense gaze focused on the map he held. He looked up and, spotted Harry, and frowned immediately. His eyes, both magical and normal, quickly glanced at the floor and gave Harry the impression that something was very, very wrong. Before he had time to ask any questions, Mrs. Weasley came bustling into the room.

“Is that Minerva already? I thought she wasn't coming until... oh!” she gasped, seeing the trio near the doorway. Usually she was very talkative and welcoming to them, but now she said nothing. She glanced at them all, as if surveying them, before walking over to Ron and hugging him fiercely.

“You're here,” she stated simply, reassuring herself. “You're here. You're okay,” she repeated, still not letting him go.

“I'm fine, mum, really,” Ron wheezed back, barely able to breathe. “You can let go now.”

“I've missed you, Ronnie. We've missed you all,” she said shakily, letting him go. “I'm glad you came today, we can all have dinner together again. Ginny, Fred and George are upstairs, and your father and Bill and Charlie will be back soon. Oh, it will be wonderful to have us together again for a change,” she paused, then gave Ron one more bone-crushing hug. “I love you very much. You know that, don't you?”

“Yes, mum,” Ron answered back shakily.

Harry glanced over at Hermione, who looked as if she might cry. Surprised, he took her hand and said her name quietly to attract her attention. She looked back at him, then at Mrs. Weasley and Ron with a look of complete sadness, and then he realized what was wrong.

She missed her parents. She hadn't talked to them since before Bill and Fleur's wedding. They had a nasty row when Hermione tried to tell them about the quest she was going to embark on. Despite their lack of knowledge about the magical world, they weren't stupid. They knew how serious the whole thing was, and what Hermione was asking them to do. They didn't want to give their only daughter permission to gamble with death for a world they barely even knew, but Hermione stood firm because she knew what must be done.

They had never fully approved of her leaving, and because of security reasons Hermione had not talked to them since.

All Harry could do was hold her hand and reassure her. “You'll see them again, I promise,” he whispered, and she nodded and gave him a grateful smile. Harry decided that he could ask Moody what was wrong later... it could wait for now.

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For the first time Harry could remember, dinner with the Weasleys and Moody was a very quiet affair. Ginny still couldn't bring herself to talk to any of them, and even Fred and George seemed to have nothing to discuss. The air seemed to be full of tension, and Harry was starting to wish he hadn't come.

Hermione was the one to finally break the silence. “The roast is delicious, Mrs. Weasley. Is anyone else coming tonight? I wanted to have a word with Professor McGonagall if she stopped by,” she asked casually.

“Oh, Minerva is coming by sometime tonight, dear. Fleur is off with her family for a few days, the poor girl hasn't seen them in ages. I tried to get Tonks to stop by, but since he... oh. Uh, she didn't feel like coming,” Mrs. Weasley finished off rather quickly, obviously hiding something.

“Since he... who's he? Since what?” Ron asked in between bites.

Mrs. Weasley just shook her head, trying to get them to drop the subject. Harry noticed that most of the Weasleys seemed to be avoiding his eyes.

“Mrs. Weasley... where is Professor Lupin?” Hermione asked quietly.

“He... he's... oh, I can't...”

“They need to know, Molly. They need to know,” Moody interrupted Mrs. Weasley. “Remus Lupin... was on an Order mission three weeks ago. We found out through a reliable source that he was discovered by death eaters, who outnumbered and killed him.”

Hermione gasped, placing her face in her hands. Ron choked on his food and glanced disbelievingly at Moody. Harry just sat there, his face emotionless.

Lupin... was dead. Dead and gone, like Sirius.

“I'm sorry, Harry, I know how much you cared for him. I'll spare you the details, but I'll tell you that he didn't go quietly. He put up one hell of a fight, Remus did.”

Harry barely felt Hermione grasp his hand under the table, clutching it with such strength his fingers grew numb.

Lupin... after Sirius, he had been the last connection to his parents. He had helped him so much... and he was gone forever. Pettigrew, the fucking traitor, was the only one left. His father... Sirius... Lupin... all gone, and all because of one man... if you could consider Voldemort human anymore, anyway.

It wasn't right, it wasn't right at all, and Harry suddenly felt deeply sick.

He stared at the floor and was vaguely aware of the Weasleys offering their condolences as they left the table. When he finally looked up, he saw Ginny standing above him.

“There's a little memorial for him out in the garden. It's not much, but... I thought you'd like to see it,” she offered, holding out her hand.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered, getting out of his seat and brushing her hand away. He didn't see the way her face screwed up in anger at his dismissal, but he heard her exasperated sigh as she led them all out back. Hermione had let go of his other hand right when Ginny had addressed him, and Harry had a strong urge to hold her hand again.

Harry vaguely remembered someone mentioning this place had a garden when they first came in fifth year, but he had never seen it. It was not very impressive, most of the grass was dead and weeds and wild plants adorned the landscape. Harry knew it must have been magically enlarged at some point, though probably used for something other than gardening because the Blacks definitely were not that type of family. Ginny led them to a large tree, where Harry spotted several medium-sized stones underneath. One had Sirius' name on it, and the one next to it had Lupin's and several fresh flowers had been placed next to it.

“I know it's not much,” Ginny remarked as they stopped in front of the markers. “None of us new Lupin's birthday, so we just left his name. When all this is over we'll give them headstones and a proper funeral.”

“How did you get him back?” Hermione asked.

Ginny sighed sadly. “They didn't find his body. They destroyed him,” she said bitterly, and Harry grimaced. Maybe she was finally getting an idea of what they were up against.

Hermione sighed. “How is Tonks holding up?”

“Very upset. Mum can't even get her to come for dinner anymore.”

“Well, I would imagine this place has a lot of memories that would be too painful for her right now. She must be devastated. I can only imagine..” Hermione's voice drifted off.

“Well, at least he gave them a good fight, like Moody said,” Ron added, his gaze focused on the stone. “He... he'll be remembered. A great man, Lupin.”

“He ended it on his own terms,” Hermione whispered, and Harry wondered what she was thinking, but his wandering thoughts were brought back to the present by a barely stifled sob from Ginny, who then promptly turned away and ran into the house.

He knew it was only a matter of time before it hit close to home... but he still couldn't grasp the fact that Lupin was gone. He felt Hermione take his hand again, and saw that she was holding Ron's as well and trying very hard not to cry.

They stood in silence for a while in front of the makeshift grave, trying once again in vain to understand death.

The wind blew gently, and Harry wondered if Lupin could somehow be there right now. It then blew harder, ruffling Harry's clothes and brushing Hermione's hair against his face, and it was then Harry felt he was.

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Later that night, Hermione suggested that he go talk to Ginny. She had been in her room since she left the garden, and seemed to be quite upset.

Even though Harry felt like he'd rather converse with Kreacher, he agreed. Maybe now would be a good time to get it all in the open. It wasn't right to give her false hopes anymore, he knew.

He knocked on her door several times before receiving an answer.

“Go away,” she snapped.

“Ginny... it's me. I want... I want to talk to you.”

He could hear her snort through the doorway. “Oh, now you want to talk. Found time for me in your busy schedule, have you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. This was going to be harder than he thought. “Come on, Ginny. Just open the door, I'm not here to argue with you.”

He heard her release the lock and she opened the door slowly before letting him in. She sat down on one of the beds, and he sat down across from her.

“Well... go on, then,” Ginny said bitterly, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Harry sighed. “I just wanted to say that... I'm sorry for how things ended. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I know I should have talked to you last time I was here. You have every right to be furious with me,” he paused, and Ginny was shooting him a very icy glare.

“Oh, really?” She said acidly.

“Look, I didn't come here to argue with you. I just wanted to apologize, is all. I know it seems unfair that Ron and Hermione came with me after all that rubbish I said to you.”

“Then why did they come?” Ginny asked, her tone still very angry.

Harry ran his hand through his messy hair, sighing again. “Look, I care about you very much, Ginny, I do... it's just... ugh. You wouldn't understand if I told you.”

“Try me,” she spat.

Harry decided that there was no way getting around this. It had to come eventually. “It's just... Ron and Hermine have always been there, you know. I didn't want them to come, but they insisted and... I let them. I needed them, and they were fully aware of what they were getting into. I'm sorry I can't tell you what we're doing, but it's dangerous and complicated and... I just didn't want you getting involved in something you weren't ready for.”

“I'm strong, Harry. You know that. I could have helped. I can still help you, if you'd just....”

“No,” Harry interrupted her. “I know you can be very good at charms and other things but... this thing involves so much more than that. Good bat-bogey hexes aren't going to get you anywhere in this, Ginny. You're not ready.”

“I'm only a year younger than you. What makes me so different? Yes, Hermione's brainy and Ron... well, he's a good friend, I'm sure... but Harry... I'm your bloody girlfriend. I'm supposed to be the one closest to you. I'm your equal, I'm your other half, and I'm supposed to be with you no matter what. Are you just going to let me wait here again? I'm so tired of waiting, Harry. I just want this to be over so we can be together, since you won't let us be now,” she added with a hint of bitterness. Harry placed his head in his hands, and she moved over to his bed, wrapping her arms around him. He shrugged her off, standing up.

“Ginny... you don't understand, do you?”

“Understand what? That my boyfriend deserted me and won't even let me touch him? That...”

“I'M NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND ANYMORE!” Harry yelled, no longer able to restrain his frustration. “Or did you just block that whole conversation from your memory?”

Ginny's face began to grow a shade very similar to her hair as she stood up with him, eyes blazing. “Oh, I remember. You said we couldn't be together for now, but nothing about it being done for good. What's changed since then? For Merlin's sake, Harry, you brought it up at a BLOODY FUNERAL! You were very emotional, and obviously not thinking clearly! Was I really supposed to take you seriously?”

“Not thinking clearly? Honestly, Ginny, I think that conversation was the first time I had been thinking clearly for a very long time, and I still stand by my decision whether you like it or not. You're not going with us when we leave tomorrow, and we can't be together, do you understand?” Harry said, trying not to yell as much as he possibly could.

“But when this is all over, you'll get over this whole... this little phase you've gotten into and we will be together again, Harry James Potter,” Ginny declared, sounding much like a mother scolding a child.

“NO! This isn't just a phase, and WE CAN'T BE TOGETHER! NOT NOW, NOT EVER!” Harry shouted.

Ginny was obviously startled, and she had to compose herself for a moment before she continued. “Can you give me a reason why? One good reason why we can't be together when you know this is meant to be.”

“No, I don't know that it's meant to be. Look, I appreciate all you've done for me and our relationship was not worthless. It made me happy while it lasted, and it taught me a lot about myself.”

“So you agree I make you happy. So why...”

“YOU STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND, DO YOU?”

Ginny stopped for a moment, apparently unable to come up with anything to say.

“Well?” Harry asked.

“There's someone else, isn't there? I bet it's Hermione, you've always been going on about how great she is and all those rumors in the papers and I thought it wasn't true, I thought you were too good for her anyway, I don't know what's so great about her that makes you boys like her so much, she's not pretty at all and she's such a...”

“There's nobody else right now, Ginny. We just can't work together, is all. THERE'S NOBODY ELSE, AND IT'S NOT JUST ABOUT THAT, OKAY?”

She screwed up her face and opened her mouth as if to retort, but her reply was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley flying into the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? You'll wake up the whole house with your bickering, half of them are already outside the door. Harry, go back to your room. I don't want to hear another noise from this room again tonight, Ginevra, understood?”

“Yes, mum,” she replied automatically, giving Harry a look of hatred as he turned around to leave the room.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I didn't mean to disturb anyone,” he apologized, suddenly feeling like a complete prat, fighting about something so stupid when so much bigger things were happening.

“It's fine, dear. Just go to bed,” she sighed and closed the door behind him as they left. Mrs. Weasley bustled down the stairs, leaving Harry standing in the hall.

As he turned to go toward his room at Grimmauld Place, he noticed Hermione and Ron standing outside the doorway, both of whom appeared to have listened to every word of the argument.

“I'm sorry we listened in on you, mate, it's just the whole house could hear you and.... well, I got curious,” Ron grinned. “Don't worry about Ginny, she's stubborn and she'll get over it eventually. We should leave early tomorrow, though, to be on the safe side.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, his mind still processing the event.

“Well, if we have an early start, we should get some sleep,” Ron turned to go down the hallway, then glanced back at Harry and Hermione. “You two coming?”

“Yeah, I'll be up in a minute,” Harry said, and Ron shrugged before turning away and leaving them.

Hermione had said nothing so far, and Harry wondered what she was thinking. Her expression was giving away nothing, though he could tell she hadn't been very pleased about what she heard.

“I'm sorry about being so loud, I didn't think she'd get that angry. It was a good idea to talk to her, though, hopefully now she'll leave me alone be for a while,” he said.

“Well, she needed to hear it from you, though I expect she'll want to talk to you again, since she still doesn't understand why,” Hermione stated, her voice edged with a trace of anger.

Harry paused. Why was she mad at him now, too? What did he say?

“So... nobody else?”

He was confused for a moment, and then it dawned on him. He had told Ginny that nobody else had factored into this. Ginny had said awful things about Hermione, and he had replied by telling her there was nobody else he wanted.

Nice one, Potter, he thought, mentally cringing. You really screwed this one up.

“I... oh. Hermione... that's not what I meant. I didn't mean you're nothing, I just... I didn't think there was anything between us right now, is all. It would have just made her angry, and she would tell Ron and it would...”

“It's okay,” she interrupted him, her face still expressionless. “I understand.”

She quickly swung around and walked down the hallway, unable to share a room with Ginny that night.

Harry stood there for several minutes, rooted to the spot and wondering how so many things could be going all to hell at once.

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He found it hard to sleep that night. While he was still very upset about Lupin's death and the events of that night, there was something else. Something just felt... not right. A queasy feeling starting to work its way up his stomach and then it hit him.

His scar.

The pain was intense, and Harry curled up and grimaced, feeling like he was going to pass out. While it wasn't the worst scar experience he'd ever had, the pain was still nearly blinding and Harry could tell whatever Voldemort was up to, he was definitely having some intense emotions at the moment. He didn't have time to think about it long, however, before he slipped into unconsciousness.

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It was still very dark outside when Harry woke, and he could see the light of the full moon shining through the tiny window. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep when he heard loud whispers and heavy footsteps coming from outside his room. Curious, he sat up and rubbed his eyes, before quietly crossing the floor to the door.

“Are you sure it was them, Minerva? It could have been a neighbor, perhaps, just a random muggle attack.” Mrs. Weasley's voice was barely audible in the hallway, and Harry had to put his ear right up to the door to hear them, though he could tell they stopped walking.

“No, Mrs. Weasley, I'm afraid it was them. Moody heard and went to investigate, and he confirmed it was their house, he's been there on guard duty before,” Professor McGonagall's stern voice was more audible. “I really do feel awful, I was going to check up on them after I was done with that research... maybe if I had been there sooner...”

“Don't go blaming yourself, Minerva, it's not your fault. Besides, even if you had been there, you would have likely been outnumbered. There's just so many of them now,” Mrs. Weasley sighed. “How are we going to tell her?”

“I do not like it any more than you do, but it has to be done. She has a right to know.”

“Yes, yes, it's... oh, it's just hard. Those poor muggles, Arthur told me a lot about them and they seemed so very nice, it's such a shame they had to get involved in this. And to die like that.”

“Everyone is involved now, whether we want them to be or not. You've read some of the muggle papers, I presume? It's happening all over again.”

“Yes. Well... we really should tell her. I really hate to wake the poor thing with something... something like this,” Mrs. Weasley stammered.

“Something like what?” Harry had opened the door and was now standing in the hallway with them. He was definitely very curious now, and couldn't take simply eavesdropping anymore.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Oh, sorry we woke you, dear. We'll take care of it, you can go back to sleep.”

“I'm not tired. Tell who what?” Harry persisted, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

“It's fine, really, you can...”

“It's okay, Mrs. Weasley, let him come in case she doesn't want to be alone. Wake up Ron, too, I have a feeling she'll need you both,” McGonagall said, and Harry could swear he saw a hint of compassion on her usually stoic face.

By now Harry was definitely growing a little scared, and he quickly went to wake Ron. In his earlier years, it was almost impossible to get Ron to wake up before he wanted to. After months of living on the run, however, he had to learn to get up at a moment's notice, so he was growing better at it.

Ron seemed to be very confused at being woken up and taken out to the hallway with his mother and McGonagall, and before he had time to ask them anything they started walking toward the spare room where Hermione was sleeping.

“What's going on?” Ron whispered to Harry.

“I don't know, I think it might involve Hermione and...”

“Is she okay?” Ron asked immediately, suddenly fully awake.

“I think she's fine, but...”

Before Harry had time to finish his sentence, they stopped suddenly outside Hermione's room. Mrs. Weasley and McGonagall were about to discuss who would be the one to break the news when the door creaked open. Startled, they all looked to see a head full of bushy hair appear in the doorway.

“Something is wrong, isn't it? I could hear you talking down the hallway, but I couldn't hear all of what you were saying... it isn't...” she cut herself off, afraid to voice the fear that she already knew was true.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. “I'm so sorry, Hermione... it's... it's your parents. The dark mark... they're.. they were found...”

But she did not have to finish her sentence for everyone to know what she meant. Ron let out a loud gasp, and Hermione's eyes grew wide before she dropped to the floor, unable to hold herself up any longer.

The dark mark was above her house, and her parents had been murdered.

Harry felt such a wave of nausea rise within him he thought he might be sick right that instant. Her friendship with him caused her to lose her parents... and on the same day he promised her she'd see them again. One of his worst fears was unfolding right before his eyes, and all he could do was put his face in his hands and fight back the scream of anger and horror that was building within him.

All because of him...

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Okay, so my one-shot is no longer a one-shot. I'll probably have one more chapter, then an epilogue sorta thing. No matter how long it takes, I will finish this, even if it's crap. W00t! Once again, this was not beta-ed because of my laziness, so all mistakes are my responsibility.

To any readers and reviewers: THANK YOU SO MUCH. I luff you all. **huggles**

3. chapter 3 (finally)

Hermione had always felt that she was reasonably good with understanding emotions. She was the one to explain Cho’s mysterious behavior in fifth year. She was able to console Ginny through her numerous failed relationships, and she was the one able to get Harry to finally notice her, even though that didn’t turn out so well. She thought she was perceptive of the emotions of other people, and in turn she could work through and understand her own.

Oh, how wrong she was.

Despite her innate ability to decipher what those around her were feeling, she was sometimes at a loss as to why. Reason and logic were her foundation. Knowledge, the gift that she treasured so dearly, did not come from things like divination or feelings. Wisdom, perhaps, but she had not lived long enough to build a solid foundation from that. Reason could tell her the how and when and where, but not always why. Why people do certain things you can only discover within other people, not in books, and human relations were something Hermione had struggled with as long as she could remember. Perhaps it was why she had so few friends over her lifetime; she just didn’t understand people, and they didn’t understand her.

She realized the fact that she was now on the floor, her mind reeling with so many thoughts she felt dizzy. She barely felt Ron’s hand in her own, or Harry’s arms wrapped around her while he whispered her name over and over. She felt like she should say something to let him know she was still there, but she didn’t feel like she was. Maybe she should cry, or scream, do something.

One of her greatest fears had been realized, and all she could do was sit there, eyes glued to the floor. Her parents were dead. Gone. Two people she loved so dearly, and they loved her more than life itself, and she was never, ever going to see them again.

So why couldn’t she look up from the floor? Why couldn’t she say something, anything?

She closed her eyes, willing it all to go away.

It’s a nightmare. I’m fine, mum and dad are fine, I’ll go see them as soon as I wake up. I’ll say I’m sorry for fighting, I’m sorry for not seeing you, I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry I was brought into this world and had to drag you down with me, but I’ll make it fine again, I promise.

She opened her eyes slowly, hoping to find herself in her bed… but now she found both boys holding her, begging her to say something, do something. Are you there?

It was then she realized things weren’t going to be fine again, and a pain wrenched at her heart so intensely she thought it might rip into pieces. She clutched at her chest and gasped, before closing her eyes again and falling back into Harry’s embrace, waiting for the tears she thought should come, but didn’t, and she couldn’t understand why.

Why had it come to this?

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How long it was she sat on the floor with the boys, she couldn’t tell. Minutes, maybe, but it felt like hours. Her mind replayed the last conversation she had with her parents over and over again, her voice and theirs ringing clear in her mind as though months had not passed.

They had argued, and she had not apologized. Security reasons, the people in the Order had said. She couldn’t talk to them, she had to make it look like she was disconnected from them, like she didn’t care.

Oh, but did she care. She cared so much it was ripping her apart inside, and nothing Harry or Ron could do would make it better.

I’m sorry, oh god, I’m so sorry! Forgive me….

“Hermione?” A tentative voice finally broke her from her reverie. “Are you okay?”

She wanted to laugh at the question. Of course she wasn’t fucking okay, what was he thinking? She was going bloody insane. But the rational part of her mind told her that he was just trying to look out for her, trying to comfort her even if it was only by his presence.

“Hermione?” Ron asked gently, afraid of startling her. Her poor boys didn’t know what to do... but for once, neither did she.

“Oh God,” she choked out finally, before covering her face with her hands again, and she felt Harry clutch her tighter and rest his head on her shoulder, rocking her back and forth in an effort to comfort her. She felt far away, but she could swear she felt a few tears drop on her shirt, and now she knew that Harry was feeling guilty again, but she couldn’t bring herself to reassure him in any way.

She didn’t know why, but she was overcome with a sudden urge to go back home. Even though she knew it would likely make her feel worse to see it all for herself, she needed to go. She never got a chance to say goodbye last time, and if their presences still lingered in her home, she needed them to know. The rational side of her mind told her that it was silly to think the spirits of her parents might still be there, or that there was even a life after death, but this was something she had to do.

Without saying a word, Hermione slowly untangled herself from the Harry’s arms before standing up. She could hear Harry immediately stand up behind her, as if afraid to leave her alone. At the moment, she didn’t care much if they came with her or not.

She started walking toward the hallway, feeling very separate from her body and almost dead herself from the surrealism of it all.

Harry’s voice, however, rang clearly through her hazy thoughts. “Where are you going?”

She stopped for a moment, not bothering to turn around. “Home,” she answered.

Harry sighed. “Don’t do this, Hermione. Please don’t.”

“I need to go,” she stated simply, as if it were nothing more than an ordinary errand she had to take care of, to get done and over with.

“I know, I just… don’t think you should. It’s not going to be easy to be there, and…”

“I know it’s not going to be easy, Harry. Nothing is anymore. I have to go,” she argued, trying to get him to see. You can’t always protect me, you know.

“What’s goin’ on?” Ginny emerged from her room, looking wide awake and interested as she took in the distressed looks of the trio. “Oh… is it true then? I heard mum saying…”

“It’s none of your business, Ginny,” Ron snapped, knowing her habit of saying the wrong things at the wrong time. He didn’t want her upsetting Hermione more than she already was, and Hermione was glad she was spared from telling her off herself, since she was not in the mood to do anything nicely.

“You two can come with me if you want, but I’ll understand if you don’t want to. I just have to see them,” she argued again, trying to hold back tears once more.

“Hermione, please,” Harry pleaded, holding his arms out to her. Stay with me. She gratefully accepted his embrace, while Ron joined in and held her too. Her boys.

Ginny frowned at the doorway, obviously a little upset at being left out once again while having to watch her boyfriend hold another girl. He’s never held me like that.

“I think you should do what Harry says, and stay here. You’re just going to hurt yourself more, and I doubt there will be much of your parents left to see anyway,” Ginny piped in.

“Fuck, Ginny! What the bloody hell is wrong with you, saying something like that?” Ron had turned around, his face growing red in anger.

“It’s okay, Ron,” Hermione said quietly, holding onto his arm. “Just let it go. She’s probably right anyway, but I’m still going.”

Harry tightened his arms around her and buried his face into her neck. He knew more than anyone that going back would be very emotional and difficult, but he also understood there was no stopping Hermione if she was determined to go. “Fine. But I’m going with you,” he lifted his head up to look at her, and he swore he saw the hint of the tiniest of smiles on her face. She didn’t want to have to take this difficult journey alone.

“I’m going too,” Ron said, and took Hermione’s hand. “We’re can’t just let you go off by yourself now, can we?”

Hermione squeezed his hand back in appreciation, before looking back to Harry. “Let’s go, then.”

“And don’t you run off and tell mum where we went, she’ll just worry herself sick,” Ron commanded Ginny, who was planning to do just that.

Ginny watched her brother turn around and follow his two best friends down the stairs, and into the kitchen. She heard the door shut quietly, and she saw them out the window where Hermione took both boys’ arms in hers for side-along apparition, since they had never been to her home and could not see the destination in their minds. The way Hermione imagined her home, however, was likely very different now from what it used to be. Ginny just hoped that the boys wouldn’t hurt themselves for Hermione’s sake. They’d do anything for her, after all, though she didn’t see why they would.

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The pop of apparition entered the quiet country atmosphere, and the first sensation Hermione felt after coming home was darkness and rain. The sky was covered in clouds and rain poured down mercilessly.

She had apparated a ways from her home, as not to alarm any ministry people that may still be there, though they couldn’t afford to stay long nowadays. Though several hills separated her from her childhood dwelling, the bright glow of the dark mark could be seen clearly in the distance, since it had not yet faded. The sight sent chills through her body that had nothing to do with the chilling rain. It was a picture that was vivid in her worst nightmares, and now here she was, wide awake.

Summoning her reserves of Gryffindor courage, Hermione gripped the boys’ hands and led them forward.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Harry asked, his gaze never leaving the mark in the sky though rain and fog clouded his glasses and vision.

She sighed and closed her eyes, willing it to go away but knowing it never would. What she was about to do would stay with her the rest of her life, she knew. “I’ll never be ready. But I have you two here with me, so… I can do this,” she stated, feeling determination begin to overcome her fear.

Harry squeezed her hand back in affirmation, and they continued on toward the little country house. As they grew closer more details came into view. It was a small white home along a dirt road, with remnants of flowers and plants scattered in the yard. The door was busted off, and the glass seemed to be blown off from all the windows.

Tonks was standing on the porch, talking quietly to another auror. The sound of their footsteps on the muddy road alerted her, and she spun around, her face betraying her surprise as recognition dawned on her.

“What are you three doing? You shouldn’t be here,” she said as they crossed over to her. “Especially you, Hermione. You don’t want to see this, go back home.”

“This is my home, and I have every right to be here,” Hermione glared at her. “You’ve secured the area, right? I need to see them.”

Tonks sighed and rubbed her weary eyes. “Honey… there’s nothing left. Those goddamn people, they just blast them all to pieces, they don’t care about…”

“I know. Like Lupin,” Hermione said, and Tonks gasped. Hermione let go of the boys and walked over to Tonks, holding her as she held a sob. “I’m so sorry, I know how much he meant to you. To all of us.”

Tonks had her eyes tightly shut, but Harry noticed tears escaping anyway. “I’m sorry about your parents. They never should have been brought into this.”

The two women understood each other more completely in that moment than they ever had before. They both knew pain, true pain, and were living it every day. Tonks let go of Hermoine but gave her a small smile, communicating without words. Thank you.

Hermione gave her the tiniest of reassuring grins back. It’s okay. It’ll all be okay, in the end. The pain never goes away, but we’ll make things better, for us, for everyone.

Tonks moved out of the doorway, clearing the way for Hermione, Ron and Harry to enter. While this was entirely against Auror protocol… well, she never was one for rules, and the ministry was going all to hell anyway, they had bigger things to worry about. She knew it would be devastating for them to see all this, but she also knew that if she had known exactly where Remus had been taken from her, she’d visit it too. Sometimes it’s more painful not knowing.

Hermione glanced once more at Tonks, then took a deep breath and entered the doorway into her living room.

At least, what was once her living room. She gasped and brought her hand to her chest as she took everything in, though it was causing her real and physical pain to do so. She heard Harry pause behind her and Ron cough in an attempt to hide his own discomfort.

The furniture seemed to have been blown out of the way, likely in an attempt to chase one or both her parents. Broken picture frames and tattered books littered the room, and a large hole with cracks emanating from all sides appeared next to the stairway, a poorly-aimed reducto curse.

Hermione picked up one of the pictures on the floor and she could feel Harry look over her shoulder to glance at it. It was one of her favorites, taken a year before she started at Hogwarts. She had always endured teasing and bullying at school, but that year had been particularly rough. Her parents took off two whole weeks from their dentistry practice just to take her on an impromptu vacation. They had a little cabin by a lake in France, and it was gorgeous; Hermione could still vividly see her parents smiling at her from the beach while she frolicked around in the lake for hours until the sun would set behind her. This picture was taken at sunset; all three of them standing in front of the colorful lake and sky, smiling brightly, and Hermione covered in sand.

They had always wanted other children, Hermione knew, but somewhere along the way she found that her mother was unable to have more, and later still Hermione would find that it was her fault, the result of a particularly difficult birth.

They had always done so much to make their only girl happy and loved, and Hermione had done nothing but hurt them. And now, however indirectly, she was at least partially responsible for their deaths…

I will not cry, she willed herself. Not now.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the broken picture on the one small table that was still standing. She walked toward the stairs, but she found herself stopping at the first step, unable to move.

“Hermione?” Ron asked tentatively.

“I can do this,” she said, more for her own encouragement than theirs. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure? It’s okay if you want to leave, I know this is a lot to deal with, if it’s too much…” Harry trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

“I’m fine,” she stated, though she knew the boys would never believe her. She was a horrible liar and they could always see right through her… especially Harry.

Steeling herself, she made the trip up the debris strewn stairs, carefully avoiding the large chunks of wall that had fallen there. When she reached the top, she noticed another crater in the wall at the end of the hallway, another missed reducto curse.

They just blast them all to pieces, and…

Hermione screwed her eyes shut, taking another deep breath before she moved on.

The first room she came across was her own. Peering inside, it looked almost exactly how she’d left it, minus the papers scattered on the floor and the bits of plaster dust that alluded to what had passed just outside the doorway. Underneath all that, she could tell her mother kept it neat for when she could finally come home, even though she warned them it could take years. Mum, I’m so sorry… I never wanted this…

Continuing on, she made her way to the site of her parents’ bedroom. Before she even reached it, she knew this was where it happened.

Harry had caught up to her and placed his hand in hers, trying to offer comfort the best he knew how.

As much as she had tried to prepare herself for what she might see, she was completely unprepared for what had actually befallen.

The room was a wreck; their bed and most of the furniture had been blown to dust, and the wall was covered in holes in craters, showing that they at least put up a fight. The floor and the back wall next to the window was covered in red streaks… blood… and underneath the window was the tiniest pile of ashes. It was open, they had likely attempted to escape, but had not made it. You could see and hear the rain outside, and they watched as the rest of the ashes got swept up in a gust of wind and flew outside and away into the sky.

Turned into ashes. Oh my god. Oh…

Clutching her chest, Hermione glanced at the opposite wall, where there was a hastily written message written in blood. The blood of her parents, oh god, she was going to be sick….

The writing was sloppy, but the message was decipherable and very clear.

Mudblood.

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth, it was just too much, she was going to retch. Without a second glance at Harry and Ron, she turned and ran from the room, as fast as she could, down the stairs, three at a time, oh god she wasn’t going to make it…

She managed to fly across the porch and down to the muddy lawn where she fell to her knees, heaving. Harry and Ron came soon afterwards, and she felt Harry’s hand rubbing circles on her back and heard Ron starting to be sick himself.

Tonks had decided they needed to be alone, so she made her way to the backyard, the rain hiding the tears streaming down her own cheeks.

Hermione didn’t know how long she stood there in the mud, where the heaving turned to sobbing and when she couldn’t cry anymore she let out a scream that echoed through the sound of rain. Neither of them had thought to do a charm to repel the rain, and as a result they were all thoroughly drenched and cold. Hermione clutched Harry tighter for warmth and he squeezed her back, burying his face in her wet and tangled mass of hair.

“I killed them,” she whispered, almost inaudibly. “Oh god, I killed my parents, I…”

“No,” Harry stopped her, his voice stern yet shaky. “You didn’t do this. You’re not responsible, that’s just what they want you to believe.” I’m responsible. They’re dead because you’re my friend.

“It’s true, Harry, I killed them. They gave me everything and I did nothing but hurt them,” she then laughed bitterly, and it unsettled Harry. “You know, when I got my Hogwarts letter they were skeptical about it. They didn’t want me to go, but I argued with them. I wanted to go, and they let me because it would make me happy,” Hermione sighed. “I should have listened, I should have never gone…”

“Don’t say that,” Ron interrupted. “Then we would have never met you.”

“Well, I think you’d both be better off without me anyway, I’m an annoying little know-it-all that does nothing but hurt everyone.”

“You know that’s not true,” Harry said. “You’ve saved us more times than I can count, neither of us would be here without you. We need you. I need you,” he paused, taking a deep breath and lifting her head up so she could look into his eyes. “I love you, Hermione, so much it hurts. I might not be able to change the past, but I will do everything I can to help make the pain go away. To make things right again,” he said, holding her face gently in his hands.

She closed her eyes, holding back a sob, as Harry closed the space between them. She felt his lips on hers, and she froze for a moment before gently kissing back. It wasn’t a deep kiss, nor a long and passionate one, but still full of all the love and gentleness Harry felt for her, and it was enough.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw that Harry looking down at her, with so much love in his eyes that she felt her heart might shatter for the hundredth time that night. They were no longer basked in the green glow of the Dark Mark as it finally faded away into nothingness, and for that Hermione was grateful. She glanced over at Ron, who looked a little uncomfortable, but when he reached over and held her hand, forcing a small smile, she knew things would be okay between them.

The rain began to subside slowly, but Hermione still held onto Harry, though the chill that pervaded her body was lessening.

She didn’t want to admit it to them, but she was more scared than ever now. If they could track down her parents so easily, who’s to say they couldn’t find them? That they wouldn’t come back to her home, searching for her?

“I appreciate everything you two have done for me, but… I don’t know if it’s safe to be with me anymore. I mean, they might be coming for me now, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“When has it ever been safe for all of us, in this world? We’re not leaving you,” Ron said.

“Yeah. We’ve had time to turn back now, haven’t we?” Harry smiled slightly, quoting Hermione’s words that seemed so long ago.

“Whatever happens, remember that? We stay together whatever happens,” Ron repeated his own words. “We’re not breaking that now, you know.”

Hermione grinned slightly through her mask of pain, knowing that they were right. They weren’t about to leave her now, or ever. They needed each other too much.

She knew that the future looked bleak, and that it was very possible that they would fail this quest before them. It hurt, but she knew the truth. As much as they wanted to be optimistic, there was no telling what tomorrow would bring.

Despite their outlook, and despite the ever-growing evil force that was closing in on them more every day, Hermione couldn’t help but feel a sense of optimism in that moment. Her parents were dead, and she knew the pain from that would never fully heal. It would get better with time, however, and Ron and Harry would be there for her.

She closed her eyes again and let herself sink into the comfort of Harry’s arms once again. Through the smell of mud and sweat and a faint hint of blood and death, she could smell him, and it brought her comfort knowing that someday in the future, she could fall asleep in these arms every night.

As long as she had her boys, and Harry’s love, she was ready for whatever the future had in store for her. It might not be sunshine and flowers and a big happy family, but as long as she had Harry and Ron, Hermione knew she would be okay in the end.

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AAAHH I’m so sorry it took forever to update! My computer fried, and I just recently regained access to the internet. I also had this chapter almost done, but it got lost in when my machine decided to implode and die, and I’m not smart enough to back-up my stuff. THX, technology.

I’m a little disappointed with this second version of the chapter, I thought my first was better but, eh, it’s not like I can do anything about it, though I think I rushed through it a bit just so I could have time to finish it before DH. I apologize if it’s too sappy or a piece of junk, and feel free to tell me if it is. Dust in the Wind came on my iPod toward the end of this, which resulted in the corny ashes being carried off in the wind thing. All we are is dust in the wiiiiiind… *cries*

Well, I hope everybody has an awesome time Friday and Saturday, whether you’ll be going to a party or not. I’ll be seeing OotP earlier in the day, then going to a midnight party at B & N and dragging several friends, yeay!!! Whether you’re spoiler-free or have read every spoiler out there, I hope DH doesn’t disappoint you too much… and if it does, we can just laugh at it and make more fanfiction, because we have the power to create the ending for ourselves, the way it should be.

I might add more to this, depending on how inspired (or not) I feel after DH. Who knows… but even if I don’t write more on this, I won’t stop writing more H/HR. Even if DH is an OBHWF-fest, people always have hot affairs *waggles eyebrows suggestively*, or we can just ignore the book altogether. And yes, I know I’m so optimistic XD

Okay, I’ll stop rambling. Thanks to anybody who actually reads all the way through this crap, and I hope you all enjoy this wonderful Harry Potter filled week!!!