The Tent by Wilkes

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 25/07/2007
Last Updated: 30/07/2009
Status: In Progress

(Deviates from the DH plot after Ron leaves) NEW SUMMARY! In the wake of Ron's absence,
Harry and Hermione discover a few things about their tent which lead them to some interesting
situations. (Eventually) a slow DH rewrite with a good chunk of humor and romance. Slowly building
H/HR, R/L fluffiness based loosely on the major points of DH. WARNING: Awkward situations
a-plenty!




1. Revelations
--------------

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any characters, locations, or situations
associated with the universe (although the plot might be directly stolen from DH in the future, but
it will have a more…preferable twist than cannon. Haven’t decided yet.)

**Chapter 1: Revelations**

Harry Potter stared out into the seemingly endless white in front of him. He did not know
specifically where he was, but he vaguely remembered Hermione saying something about the northern
border of London before they had last apparated. The bitter cold nipped at his nose and ears, both
body parts becoming increasingly redder as the hours of his watch shift progressed.

They were searching the country for another Horcrux…or at least they were supposed to be.
Despite countless movement across England for months, the trio had failed to procure any leads as
to where Voldemort had hidden the other pieces. Countless nights were spent discussing all the
clues they had gathered, but often these brainstorming sessions ended inconclusively, usually with
a hunger-driven bicker fest between Ron and Hermione which would cause Harry to suddenly become
“tired” and want to go to sleep.

During more peaceful times, the scene in front of Harry might have been less depressing, even
beautiful. The snowy hill where he sat outside the tent reminded him of the times he would look
outside his window in Gryffindor tower onto the grounds of Hogwarts after the first snow of the
season. Those times seemed so long ago. The landscape around him looked pristine and innocent,
completely ignorant of the disastrous war that was occurring around it which was taking more lives
everyday.

Harry thought immediately of Mad-Eye, his old professor and protector, and his companion Hedwig
the owl, a fresh wave of tears being offset by the now constant pain in his scar. The two had been
the latest casualties in a growing list of people Harry was forced to say goodbye to. The worst
part was, having been on the run from the Ministry and the Dark Lord himself, Harry did not even
know for sure if the rest of his friends and loved ones were still alive.

His mind leapt from face to face…Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, his professors at school, Lupin, Tonks,
Neville, Luna, Ginny (his heart had an especially large jump on the thought of his
ex-girlfriend)…were they all alright? When he resurfaced, would they all be together at the Burrow
or in a row of names in a graveyard? His thoughts then jumped to Hermione. At least he knew that
she was safe, sleeping on a bunk in the magical tent behind him.

A sudden chill passed through Harry’s body, ending in a resounding shiver on his neck and chest.
Instinctively his right hand flew to the locket hanging around his chest. Slowly, Harry ran his
finger over the locket of Salazar Slytherin. Harry frowned, a forgotten but obvious thought coming
back to his distracted mind. Even if they were to find the rest of the Horcruxes, they still had no
way of destroying them. Hermione had said that they needed weapons imbued with the greatest of
magics in order to destroy the soul-bearing items, and to their dismay the only weapon of which
they knew had such power was sitting in an office hundreds of miles away.

A sudden wind caused Harry to squint his eyes and mutter a small curse under his breath. The
quest to destroy the fragments of Voldemort’s soul had been strictly his own, and as time went by
with little to no progress in finding the remaining pieces, Harry felt more and more remorseful for
letting his two best friends come along. After all, although he had been given permission by
Dumbledore to tell Ron and Hermione about his mission, the choice to let them come, and also the
deadly consequences which might result of such companionship, was strictly by his own permission.
He had heard them mutter behind his back at the building hopelessness of their situation, and he
couldn’t blame them for their despair. He himself was beginning to feel like it was a lost cause,
and that the doom of the modern wizarding world was going to be entirely his fault.

Suddenly, a pain seared his forehead and caused him to scream. He was walking down a narrow
alley of a small village. Slightly further down, he turned into an alcove and banged on the first
door on his right. The door was barely cracked open when Harry saw it explode, the hallway
immediately filling with bolts of green light…

“Harry…HARRY! Are you alright?” he heard a panicked voice say.

Harry opened his eyes and realized he was no longer perched on his box, but rather was staring
up into a darkening, snowing sky. Directly above him was a bushy-haired young woman, eyes puffy
from a mix of cold and tears.

“I’m ok, I think. Just my scar…”

“I heard you screaming from inside, I thought people had come to take you and…” Hermione trailed
off. She was still dressed in her pajamas, having forgotten to put on a coat in her rush to comfort
her friend. Bits of snow were intermingling with her hair and face.

“Hermione, really. It’s alright, no need to worry, it‘s over now. Come on, let‘s get you inside
before you freeze to death,” said Harry.

“Me freeze to death? You’ve been out here for ten hours! We’re supposed to take shifts,
remember? Just because you’re the Chosen One, it doesn’t mean you have permission to go back on our
schedule!” said Hermione in her matter-of-fact tone. It reminded Harry of the several times she had
berated him and Ron for not sticking to their homework routines which Hermione had set for
them.

Harry smirked. “Fine, last time I do something nice for you then,” he said, which elicited an
eye roll and a small, grateful smile from Hermione before she started to lead him inside of the
tent. He pulled his arm away from her hand quickly. “Hey, you know that someone should always keep
watch...”

“Oh, Harry. The wards we have been more than enough to keep us hidden. Not to mention that there
are no known people in this area for at least seven miles, and even if there were, the blizzard is
picking up and the temperature is expected to drop below…”

“Alright alright, let’s go inside!” Harry cried, pushing his best friend into the tent and
following her inside, but not before peaking over his shoulder one last time to make sure no one
was coming. The sun was just a sliver over the horizon now, and the snowfall was coming down faster
than ever. Harry sealed the flap of the tent before taking a seat near Hermione’s blue conjured
flames, his clothes becoming damper as the remnants of snowfall began to melt away.

The magical tent he was in still awestruck Harry. Although small from the outside, the inside
was a comfortable set of beds, a bathroom, and a kitchen. It amazed Harry how such a large portable
home could fit inside of Hermione’s small purse. He smiled, remembering the first time he had
encountered the magical habitat. They were at the Quidditch World Cup, the Weasleys, Hermione, and
him, and his smile broadened as he remembered that only he and Hermione knew how to set up the damn
thing. It seemed so long ago now, being able to just go on an outing for pleasure without having to
worry about being taken away by throngs of Death Eaters. It seemed so long ago that he had been
entirely happy.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, noticing his slight frown as she put down some tea on the
table.

“Huh? Oh nothing, just reminiscing. Remember when we first saw this tent? Harry asked, deciding
there was no harm in telling Hermione the truth. She smiled immediately.

“Ah yes, the World Cup! Remember Mr. Weasley being so confused as to how to set it up?” She let
out a giggle. “Oh, it seems so long ago, doesn’t it? I remember that day! You and Ron…” Hermione’s
voice trailed off, the smile vanishing from her face.

A very thick silence filled the tent, as Harry watched the shadows of the flames dance on
Hermione’s down turned face. They hadn’t spoken about Ron for days, not after he had stormed out on
the two of them for feeling like their quest was taking them nowhere. Harry had been so angry at
his red-haired companion…for betraying him, for giving up, for leaving him in his hour of need. But
most of all, although Harry would never admit it to him, he was angry at him that for every minute
he was gone, his anger was replaced with loneliness. Splotches of moisture were beginning to fall
on Hermione’s legs, but no sound came from her mouth.

Harry took back his thoughts. Harry was angriest at Ron for turning Hermione into
*this*.

It was several moments before Harry broke the silence. “I’m sure he’s ok Herm…”

“It’s over,” interrupted Hermione sternly.

Harry was quite confused and taken back from her outburst. “What do you mean?” he said
tentatively, although in his heart he had a notion where the conversation was heading.

“Me and him…Ron. I’m just done with him,” said Hermione, staring directly into the fire, her
teacup shaking in her hand.

“Now Hermione, don’t be so…” Harry started

“So what Harry? WHAT? Do you think I enjoy waiting for him to grow up and be a man? Do you think
I *want* a person who snogs Lavender Brown out of jealousy…to make me jealous? Do you think I
*want* to date a guy who makes me cry almost as much as he makes me smile?” Hermione yelled,
now staring at Harry, the tears freely flowing.

“Well, to be fair Hermione, you guys weren’t *technically* dating…”

“I DON’T CARE! Call if whatever the bloody hell you want, but I’m done with him, and done with
the way he treats me. I’m done with crying myself to sleep waiting for him to come back, I’m done
with…”

She paused to hiccup and wipe her nose with a conjured tissue. Harry took the opportunity to
throw in a few words of defense for Ron, but they were to no avail. Now Hermione was bawling
uncontrollably.

“Don’t defend him, why must you take his side? How would you like it if Ginny acted like…”

A touch of anger mixed in with Harry’s slew of emotions. The situation was getting much worse by
the second. “*You* leave Ginny out of this…”

“Well, not all of us can have a partner who is just *perfect* in every aspect, like
you.”

Hermione matched Harry’s angry glare with one of equal force. The fire was roaring wildly
in-between them, but the heat of the flame was nothing compared to the tension in the room.
Suddenly, a loud sound came from the door flap, and both jumped and pointed their wands at the
noise.

Hermione sighed. “Just the wind…”

Harry was relieved that they were safe for the time being, but he wasn’t ready to let go of the
heated argument they were having. They stared at one another for what felt like hours, neither one
wanting to let go of their pride.

Hermione was the first speak. “Harry…I’m sorry about all this. These feelings have been inside
me for days and holding them in just made them worse.”

Despite himself, Harry found his heart instantly warmed by Hermione’s plea for forgiveness.
“Don’t worry about it Hermione, I’m sorry for getting all defensive too.” She smiled and took a
deep breath before getting up to bring their teacups to the sink. Harry turned his head and
followed Hermione to the kitchen with his gaze.

“To be perfectly honest, I knew you two would eventually get together, but I never thought you
guys were,” Harry paused to gather the right words, “long-term material.”

Hermione let out a boisterous laugh, which made Harry smile wider than he had for days. To hear
her laugh was a much better distraction then the silent sobs he heard whenever she thought he
wasn’t paying attention.

“Well, since we’re being perfectly honest,” smirked Hermione, as she rejoined Harry at the
table, “I never thought you and Ginny would have lasted this long.”

Harry’s jaw dropped slightly. Hermione’s words came as a shock to his system. Wasn’t it
*her* who helped get them together in the first place? For the first time in awhile, Harry was
at a loss of words.

“What? It’s the truth! I mean, you have this antipathy for the girls who fawn over you for being
famous, and you end up dating the first person you ever knew to hold you on such a high pedestal!”
Hermione said, guiltily enjoying making her best friend squirm uncomfortably.

Harry figured now was the time to stand up for himself, before having to hear more of Hermione’s
revelations. “She is *not* a fan girl, and I’ll have you know that we have much more lasting
power than you think!”

Hermione was now enthralled, much to Harry’s dismay. He knew he was slowly walking backwards
into a dead end. “For example?” Hermione asked, in what Harry figured was her best Rita Skeeter
impression.

“Well, *our* relationship isn’t based on bickering and occasional flashes of potential!”
Harry stated, immediately regretting his words in fear of starting another wave of Ron-induced
crying. Fortunately, Hermione seemed unshaken by his comment, and even returned it with a playful
roll of the eyes.

“Oh yes,” said Hermione, “a relationship based on good looks, quidditch skills, and snoggability
is MUCH better than what Ron and I had.”

Harry opened his mouth to rebuttal, but instead stopped to think of what Hermione had just said.
Surely, she couldn’t be right about his relationship with Ginny. Yes, he was initially attracted to
her for her looks, and he admitted that her abilities as a Chaser didn’t hurt her. But there
*had* to be more to his infatuation with the youngest Weasley, for it felt different then it
had been with Cho. Was Hermione right? Was that all his relationship with Ginny had been? And since
when did he start referring to his relationship with Ginny in the past tense?

Hermione’s smile faded as she realized that Harry had stopped talking. Had she gone too far in
her playful talking? They had never talked one on one about their love lives before, and she
relished the opportunity to burrow into her best friend’s heart, for she always knew that he and
Ginny were a big mistake.

“Alright, assuming your logic is correct,” *As it always is*, Harry added mentally, “Why is
it that my feelings for her were…are so much more intense than the ones I felt for Cho?”

Hermione pondered for a moment before answering. “Cho was a crush, but your relationship was
very…complicated because of Cedric. But Ginny returned your feelings, and it made it that much more
real.” She stopped, wondering if she should continue. A slight nod from Harry answered her unasked
question. “Maybe it was the fact that you knew your days might be numbered. Maybe it was the fact
that she was part of your adopted family, and dating her would make you feel more interlinked with
them. Whatever it was, you were drawn closer to anybody who would fill the insecurity of never
having a chance to experience love first hand from your parents.”

Harry paused in thought, never before as amazed and respectful of Hermione’s brilliance. He
stared at her as the words seeped in. The conjured fire highlighted the features of her face, and
for the first time Harry realized that Hermione, the girl he had known for several years as being
his source for information and understanding, was actually quite beautiful. Yes, she had looked
quite stunning at the Yule Ball and at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but even now, with her eyes red
from tears and lack of sleep and her hair wet from snow, sitting in her pajamas on the opposite
side of a table, she looked gorgeous.

“Something wrong?”

“Huh? What’s up?”

“You’re spacing out…everything OK?”

“Oh yeah,” Harry said, snapping back to reality. “Just thinking about what you said.” Hermione
shot him a curious look. “We sure know how to choose them, don’t we?”

Hermione erupted in a fit of laughter, and Harry couldn’t help but join her. Outside the snow
continued to fall and the night was getting increasingly darker, but inside their tent, the fires
of mirth and friendship kept the two friends warm.



2. Spoons
---------

**Chapter 2: Spoons**

A few days later, Harry once again re-entered the tent after another shift as guardian. It was
close to midnight, and the constant snowfall of the days before was replaced with a piercing wind
which penetrated even the magical walls of their spacious tent.

As he started to remove his multiple layers of jackets and sweaters, Harry noticed a note
written in smooth handwriting sitting on the table. Making sure to remove his soaking boots at the
entrance (“Just because I’m your best friend doesn’t mean I’m your house elf,” Hermione had said),
he walked into the dimly lit room and read the letter.

*Dear Harry,*

*You know I usually stay up to chat when you’re done with your shift, but I was feeling a bit
under the weather and went to bed early. There is some mushroom soup keeping warm over the fire. I
know it isn’t much, but I think you can understand given our present conditions. I’ll see you in
the morning.*

*Love,*

*Hermione*

*PS: Don’t forget to wash your dishes!*

Harry smiled at the note, and sure enough a caldron of soup was boiling over the open flame. In
the corner, Harry could see Hermione sleeping on one of the cots, covered by four times the normal
amount of blankets and comforters in an effort to keep the cold at bay. Even by the fire, Harry
noticed, the mighty winter wind was threatening frostbite. He ladled himself a cup of soup and ate
it in silence, the warmth welcome in his empty and frozen stomach.

After cleaning his bowl and spoon (and as much of the kitchen and make-shift living room as
possible, for good measure) Harry undressed and got ready for bed. Slipping on a thick Weasley
sweater, Harry sluggishly made his way to his bed on the opposite side of the tent, anticipating
the warmth of his sheets.

With one foot up and one foot on the floor, Harry almost shouted as he heard a sudden moan and
the rustle of shifting linens. He turned quickly and realized the noise came from none other than
Hermione. Even from across the tent, he could tell that she was shivering. Although his body
punished him with a set of chills for leaving the potential warmth of his bed, he quickly rushed to
Hermione’s bedside. Despite the extra layers, her teeth were chattering from the cold. Gently,
Harry placed the back of his hand on her forehead.

“Fever,” he said to himself. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his wand, but
immediately realized that he knew no spell which could help him cure his sick friend. Frowning, he
wished that Madame Pomfrey was there to help him. He scratched his forehead, not knowing what to do
next.

Hermione let out another moan of discomfort as she curled herself into a tighter ball. Deciding
on the only plan he could think of, Harry returned to his bed and grabbed every single sheet he
could. Tiptoeing back to Hermione’s bed as not to wake her up, he started the process of burying
her under his own blankets. When he had finished, Harry noted that she now resembled a napping
Eskimo, the thick extra layers looking like a discolored parka.

Completing his task, he glanced back at his now naked cot, not looking forward to the subzero
night ahead. He had not even taken one step before he realized that sleeping without any covers
would be suicidal. He could see the headlines now: *“The Chosen One Defeated in Uneventful Case
of Hypothermia!”* But turning back to Hermione (whose shaking had lessened significantly with
the additional warmth), he knew that his sacrifice of personal luxury was well worth it if it made
her more comfortable. He would do anything for her, and what was one night of sleeping in frigid
conditions between best friends? He determined that there was no point of even sleeping, as from
his room he would not be able to hear Hermione if she suddenly needed him during the night. He
would have to stay near, so he accepted his fate of being both ridiculously cold AND ridiculously
tired. There was no other way. Unless…

*Unless…*

“Merlin, please don’t let Ron come back tonight.”

Harry walked back to his room, and slowly carried his bed across the tent, placing it gently
next to Hermione’s. As soon as he placed it down, a swift blue flash lit the area and Harry saw
that the two cots had formed together into one massive mattress. Mentally beating himself for the
awkwardness that was sure to ensue in the morning, Harry climbed into his…hers…their bed and slowly
untucked the sheets from Hermione, slipping under them beside her. Thankfully, they were large
enough to cover both of them while maintaining enough space in-between so that they didn’t touch.
Harry was immediately pleased with his decision, as the warmth of the mound of blankets was more
than enough to ward away the biting wind. Facing himself the opposite direction as Hermione and
putting his glasses on the closest night stand, he closed his eyes and swiftly fell asleep.

************************************************************************

*Hermione had no clue where she was. All around her were bright blue skies and large fluffy
clouds. She seemed to be in mid-flight, but was not moving anywhere. She attempted to move what was
supposed to be her arms, and discovered that she was completely herself, just…floating. Cautiously,
she took a step forward, and immediately felt herself plummeting toward the Earth, the wind blowing
past her at an alarming rate.*

*She tried to scream, but realized that in whatever universe she was in she had no voice.
Perhaps she was dead? A ghost? As she pondered her present state, a dot emerged on the rolling
hills below her. She blinked her eyes, and suddenly she was no longer flying. Instead, she was
standing on a platform, facing a mob of familiar faces. To her right she could see the entire flock
of Weasleys, Ron sitting with a glazed look on his face while Fred and George were pointing and
laughing at something in the distance. To the left were a group of her school friends. Seamus,
Dean, and Lavender were all chatting amongst themselves while behind them Professor McGonnagal was
chatting with Professor Dumbledore.*

*“Dumbledore?” Hermione thought to herself. “I have to be dreaming.”*

*From down the aisle between the two sides, she saw Cedric Diggory walking in with Cho on his
arm, greeted by Mad-Eye Moody, Kreacher, and Winky.*

*“Definitely dreaming.”*

*A chorus of trumpets echoed from behind her, which caused the conversation to cease. Only now
did Hermione realize that all the people in the crowd donned elegant dresses and dress robes. She
had seen this scene before: This was Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but…different. For one, the happy
couple was sitting with the rest of the Weasleys, their eyes staring at the arch opposite of the
platform Hermione was standing on. Secondly, the Burrow was no where to be found, but instead the
opening was surrounded by endless fields of flowers.*

*She blinked again and she was suddenly standing next to the first row of guests, and two
people were standing at the alter. The groom had very messy black hair and a unique pair of
glasses, and was absolutely beaming at his wife-to-be. Who she was, however, Hermione could not
tell, for her face was covered with a long white veil.*

*She had seen this scene before: The wedding of her best friend. It had happened at Bill and
Fleur’s wedding, as the bride and groom were exchanging their vows with one another. She had been
staring at the couple when her gaze had suddenly shifted to Harry, which caused her to smile so
broadly. To imagine that one day he would have a bride, that one day he would be freed of his
destiny as savior of the world, that one day he would be able to be normal, happy, and loved…it was
that feeling which caused her to weep in happiness.*

*Suddenly, a disembodied voice said the words the crowd was waiting for. “You may kiss the
bride.”*

*Harry grinned from ear-to-ear. The moment seemed to pass in slow motion. He reached for the
white veil, and he revealed that the bride’s face turned out to be none other than…*

Hermione let out a sudden gasp as the scene before her disappeared. She was no longer at a
wedding ceremony; rather she was now looking at a tan canvas wall which was shaking slightly in the
wind. Still adjusting to consciousness, she tried to move slightly but realized she was pinned down
sideways by something heavy. A sleepy look over her shoulder revealed that a mountain of blankets
lay on top of her, a lot more than she had originally slid over herself as she had fallen asleep.
She tried to lift her head to get a better view, but immediately regretted it. A sharp pain
penetrated her head, almost making her gasp as she remembered the migraine which had caused her to
retire early. She had remembered freezing as she drifted to sleep under her extra covers, but now
by whatever means the extra layers had appeared she felt much, much warmer. Not wanting to get up,
she closed her eyes and rolled on to her other side as to let the circulation return to the arm she
had been sleeping on.

Or rather, she attempted to switch her sleeping position before her roll was interrupted by a
very firm wall.

Hermione’s eyes shot open. There DEFINITELY was room to move around when she fell asleep. It was
only then that she had realized that in her field of view there were way too many limbs. She was
lying on her left arm, and her right hand was resting close to her forehead. However, another arm
had slid under her neck and she was gently resting on it (how she had not noticed the pressure
before, she did not know) and another was draped over her under the comforters, its hand gently
resting on her stomach.

Not only was someone in her bed, someone was *cuddling* with her. Panic took over her body,
but the gentle grip of this mysterious stranger and the extra layers of blankets pinned her in
place.

*“If only I could get my wand,*” she thought to herself. Wriggling her freehand under the
sheets, she managed to grip the wand that was sitting in her pajama pocket. Slowly, to insure that
her predator would not notice, she pointed her wand behind her back. However, she noticed that
something was odd about this extra person’s hand, the one belonging to the arm that had become her
neck pillow. It looked like writing…but she couldn’t make it out. After a minute of squinting and
adjusting to the shallow light of the tent, she could just make out the last two words: “*tell
lies.”*

She gasped audibly. Her intruder was none other than her best friend. Her mind was instantly
flooded with a million more complicated thoughts than before. Why was he in her bed? Why wasn’t he
sleeping in his own room? When did her bed get so big as to fit two people in the first place? Did
the extra sheets belong to him?

After the obvious questions, she attempted to block out the more…awkward ones, but she couldn’t
help it. How had their bodies ended up so entangled? Did he intentionally snuggle up to her? Its
not that she minded sharing a bed with her best friend, for she found nothing wrong with two
platonic friends inhabiting the same sleeping situation if the circumstances brought them to it,
despite the cultural taboo. It was just…she didn’t know how to describe the feeling. Surprising was
the word she settled for. She was sure that if someone had taken a picture of her right now, they
would find the “Brightest Witch of Her Age”, Hermione Granger, at a total loss of words.

Suddenly, she heard Harry mutter something incomprehensible, the warm air brushing against
Hermione’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine that definitely was not caused by the cold. This
action was quickly followed by Harry’s grip tightening around her stomach as he pulled even closer
to her, his chest now perfectly aligned with her back and his nose buried in her hair, eliciting a
flutter of butterflies in her chest. Her jaw dropped. This was not right, not right at all.
Something was wrong. Not only was she now spooning with her best friend, her body was reacting in a
very non-best friend way. She knew for a fact that she harbored no romantic feelings for Harry, she
had come to that conclusion many times over her life. But this did not explain why her heart was
beating so fast.

She was 100% sure that she was not, and would never be, in love with Harry Potter.

“*I’m just shocked from the situation, that’s all*,*”* Hermione reasoned with
herself.

However, lying there in the cold with her best friend’s arms around her, she felt a sense of
security and happiness she had never felt in her entire life. Despite the plethora of questions she
would want answered in the morning, she allowed herself to close her eyes with a guilty smile.

She knew their present situation was ridiculously wrong, but for tonight she would let it slide.
And as if he was reading her mind, Harry unconsciously gave her a slight squeeze, instantly
destroying any argumentative thoughts Hermione had left within her as for the first time in their
lives, the two best friends slept peacefully together.

*Harry knew he had him. For what seemed like hours, he had been chasing Voldemort down the
alleys of London’s business district. Finally, he had cornered the Dark Lord into a dead end, in
which his archenemy had cowardly hid himself into the only available hiding place: a dark green
dumpster standing against the back wall. Slowly, with his wand pointed and his mind ready, Harry
approached the slightly shaking trash bin. He counted to himself, ready to end the years of
suffering that he had experienced at Voldemort’s hand.*

*“One...two...three!”*

*He burst open the lid of the dumpster, and was instantly hit with…*

The delightful scent of Strawberries.

“*That can’t be right…”* Harry thought to himself as his eyes fluttered open, aided by the
slight sunlight which was radiating through the tent wall. If the scent had not surprised him, he
definitely was not expecting to be greeted by a vision of bushy brown hair first thing in the
morning. His face was completely buried in the back of his best friend’s head, which immediately
indicated to him that something very wrong had happened during the night. He had deliberately
positioned himself as far away from her as possible without leaving the comfort of the blankets
before going to bed specifically to prevent something like *this* from happening. His
confusion was enhanced by the fact that his right hand was rhythmically moving under the sheets,
the sudden realization that his hand was draped over Hermione and resting on her stomach hitting
his brain with a powerful force.

Remembering that Hermione had been sick the night before, Harry tried not to awaken her despite
the awkwardness, as the constant heavy breathing indicated that she was still sleeping peacefully.
He attempted to move his left arm, but realized that it was being held down by Hermione’s head.
Harry swore mentally, knowing that he was, for all intensive purposes, trapped until she woke
up.

Frozen in his place, he did the only thing he could do: Think. This, however, was the very last
thing he wanted to do at the moment. Here he was, the famous Harry Potter, trapped under the sheets
attached to his best friend. He knew that he had a tendency to move during sleep, but for two
people to entwine themselves so intricately without a waking thought had to be a one in a million
chance. One arm accidentally draped over her seemed plausible, even probable, but to be so close to
one another…for him to have unconsciously cuddled next her from across the bed…for him to be
touching from head to toe at every possible point with some part of her body, was a mathematical
impossibility.

All thoughts left Harry’s head as Hermione shifted a little next to him, sending a wave of
pleasure throughout his body. The confusion he felt at this unusual physical reaction was replaced
immediately by a frightening realization.

It was morning. This was a simple enough fact, but Harry was also a male. Yet another basic
truth, but these two combined, along with the fact that he was only millimeters from his best
friend, was a lethal combination. He prayed to Merlin that what usually occurred in his…lower
region in the morning had not occurred today. But another unexpected movement by Hermione confirmed
his deepest fear as another shockwave hit him.

*“Someone kill me now,”* Harry thought, as the realization set in.

Although every part of him wished it wasn’t true, the hard fact set in.

He was poking his best friend in the back.

Harry never felt so humiliated, ashamed, embarrassed…and most of all awkward at the position he
was in…the position THEY were in. He made sure not to move a muscle, as not to make his exposure
any more obvious than it had to be in fear that Hermione would awaken. He hoped, that given time,
the problem would deal with itself. Lying in bed, his eyes wide open with shock, he took a little
comfort in the fact that Hermione had not stirred.

But if Harry Potter could see through his best friend’s head, he would realize that Hermione
Granger was in fact quite awake, displaying the same wide-eyed expression that he was wearing.

Hermione had awoken with a smile on her face. She had just experienced the best slumber she had
ever had in her life, and the morning rays emanating from the wall in front of her made her happy
to be alive. She would never admit it to him, but she regretted the moment that they would have to
part, and she was looking even less forward to the explanatory conversation that they would
definitely have to have afterward.

A slight shiver from Harry cut through her thoughts, but the sudden cease of movement signaled
to her that he was still asleep. *“If he was awake,”* Hermione reasoned with herself, *“he
would have realized our predicament and moved away anyway.”* She adjusted herself a bit to get
more comfortable against her companion, which elicited another odd jerk from Harry. It was after
this that she realized something was pushing against her that she hadn’t noticed before.

She closed her eyes lazily. Surely it was just his knuckle or finger, a body part that had
shifted inadvertently during the night. She pulled the sheets closer to her for warmth, loving the
feeling of being held.

*“Wait a minute,” Hermione* thought, slowly connecting the dots. *“If he’s still holding
me, and I’m still on his other arm…”*

Her eyes shot open a second time, before the obvious thought hit her. *“His wand Hermione,
it’s his wand. Get your mind out of the gutter.”* She felt dirty for thinking that it was
anything else, especially grossed out for even having a fleeting thought of Harry’s…unmentionables.
She closed her eyes again, conceding herself to what she knew was the last few moments of their
secret night together.

That lasted all of four seconds, when another revelation hit her like a brick wall. Harry always
kept his wand in his shirt pocket when he slept. Even now, with his chest pressed so lightly
against her, she could feel the solid piece of wood touching her shoulder blade. Her eyes shot open
in horror, blushing in embarrassment enough for the both of them.

*“Oh my god…Oh my GOD…OH MY GOD!”* Hermione’s panicked thoughts chanted. It really WAS
Harry’s…she couldn’t even complete the thought. To think that her best friend had “awoken” without
being awake elicited so many disturbing thoughts within her.

*“Is he dreaming about…is Harry Potter really thinking about doing or receiving or viewing who
knows what while he’s holding…accidentally embracing ME?”* The thought made her sick. The night
had gone from weird, to unexpectedly nice, to…frightening. The thoughts continued to hit her,
increasing in frequency as her heart raced. Then an even more disturbing thought sped through her
head.

*“Is this a subconscious physical reaction to…to me?”* Hermione gagged at the thought. She
definitely was going to be sick.

“Ummm…good morning,” she heard someone whisper. She let out a small yelp, the sudden breach of
silence interrupting her stream of uncomfortable thoughts.

Harry had noticed Hermione make a small, cough-like noise, and had taken the opportunity to
attempt to coax her awake. He couldn’t stand the tension anymore, and he had to separate himself
from Hermione before he died out of awkwardness.

Hermione knew that he would eventually awake, but she had half hoped that he would move his arm
so that she could free herself from their extra connection. Unfortunately, they were both too
paralyzed in horror to move a muscle.

“Good morning,” she managed to utter in a voice an octave higher than it should have been. Even
if she could move, she did not know if she could face Harry at this moment. As a matter of fact,
she did not know if she could *ever* look at Harry the same way again. A *very*
uncomfortable silence filled the room, as neither knew how to continue their conversation. The
shadow of the fire danced on the wall Hermione was keeping her eyes glued to, the only movement in
the otherwise still room.

“Err…how are you feeling?” asked Harry helplessly.

Hermione thought of several ways to reply to Harry’s quarry, but decided to play the subtlety
game, answering him with what she knew to be an unbelievable “ok.”

Harry inhaled another breath of Hermione’s strawberry-scented hair before continuing. “Uhhh…I
guess I have some explaining to do, huh?” Harry said, knowing that this conversation was not going
to end on a high note.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I am a bit confused, I guess.” Hermione said after a minute. She realized from
Harry’s fast breathing on her neck that he was feeling as unpleasant as she was. She also realized
that he was still holding her, not to mention that the “other” Harry was still making friends with
the small of her back.

Another silence filled the room, Harry trying with every nerve in his body to calm himself down.
He knew the cure to the situation would be to use the bathroom, but he could not think of any way
of telling Hermione he had to go without also admitting to her that…*it* was currently in
contact with her body. He also realized that in his frozen state, he was still holding her close,
her body fitting perfectly into his. As awkward as it was, a part of him didn’t want to move. The
truth was that despite the fact that they had unintentionally fallen into this position, he did not
want to let go of her. He had never held somebody in his entire life, and something about lying
there with the person he trusted most in his life made the entire ordeal almost worth it.

*Almost* worth it.

“Umm…Hermione? I don’t know how we ended up like this, but would you mind lifting your head? I
have to use the washroom.” Harry said in desperation. *“Way to be nonchalant, Potter*,” he
thought to himself as he squeezed his eyes in embarrassment.

“Yeah ok,” responded Hermione, perhaps a little too fast. Harry let go of his embrace and
quickly lifted the sheets, sprinting as fast as he could to the nearby bathroom. Hermione let out a
sigh as she heard the door click, banishing away the nasty part of her mind which was telling her
he was emptying more than just his bladder in there. Somehow she had survived the most
uncomfortable experience of her life, and she was just happy that her mind could return to
more…sane thoughts.

Harry returned a few minutes later, much relieved and happy to be rid of his second self. He sat
down cross-legged on the bed, facing the opposite way of Hermione in the hopes that if she turned
to look at him he would not have to meet her gaze.

He cleared his throat in attempt to relieve the thickness of the air around them. “I read your
note last night. How’d you sleep?” started Harry, beginning what he knew would be a horribly
interesting conversation. He could feel his brow already getting damp in nervous perspiration.

Hermione took a deep breath. If she was going to have this conversation (and she knew for the
sake of maintaining their friendship they would have to) she would not let the awkwardness prevent
her from knowing the truth. “I slept well, thanks. What about you? Have any good dreams?” She added
the last part as a casual topic of conversation, not realizing the terrible path that it could take
them to until she had finished her sentence.

“Yeah, I guess,” said Harry absentmindedly, slightly confused that of all the things Hermione
could ask about, she would start with his dreams. Besides, she knew as well as she did that he
rarely had “good” dreams anymore.

Hermione, on the other hand, took his innocent response in completely the wrong way. She mimed a
gag before continuing. “Hmm…I could tell.”

“What do you mean you could…” Harry trailed off as he realized what her comment implicated.
*“Oh God, she thinks that…THAT was caused by…”* he silently groaned. Somehow, things had just
become more complicated.

“Hermione, about that…you gotta understand that guys…well guys have a tendency to…” he heard
Hermione shift around under the sheets, and he could tell that she was boaring into the back of his
head with a bemused look on her face.

“…be sex-driven animals?” Hermione finished for him, finally being able to embrace the humor of
the situation.

“NO! No no no, that’s not what I was going to say!” Harry said, his voice cracking mid-sentence.
He heard Hermione giggle behind him. He was glad that one of them was enjoying this, because he
sure wasn’t.

“Harry, relax” said Hermione, unwilling to admit out loud that she was freaked out by the
situation too. “Just next time you have naughty dreams about Ginny, have the decency not to be
spooning another girl while you’re doing it.”

Hermione blushed wildly and covered her mouth. She definitely had not intended to verbalize that
last part. Harry’s face had turned the color of Ron’s hair. He had not, until now, ever considered
what they had done to be spooning. That’s something couples did. And he and Hermione were
definitely NOT a couple. He ran his hand through his messy hair and tried to calm his nerves down
before he spoke again.

“Well, for starters we were NOT spooning,” Harry corrected her, an odd chill sweeping through
his body at the word. “And I was *not* thinking about Ginny!”

He regretted adding that last sentence as soon as the words left his mouth, despite it being the
truth.

“Oh really, Mr. Potter?” Hermione said with laughter in her words. “Who was it then? Cho Chang?
Lavender? Or maybe Fleur?”

“Ah, Hermione gross!” Harry protested. He was glad that she was introducing lightheartedness
into their conversation. The easiness in being to communicate with her after such an odd event
reminded him of one of the many reasons he cherished his friendship with her. “Fine, I’ll admit
it,” he said, adding a dramatic pause for effect. “I was having dirty thoughts of Madame Maxine,
ok?”

Harry’s sarcastic response was repliedto with a long, drawn out “Ewwww!” and a swift bash to the
back of the head with a pillow. He fell back onto the bed in a fit of laughter, which blended with
Hermione’s giggles to fill the room. It was a good five minutes before the smiles had fallen off
their faces.

“But seriously Hermione, guys just sometimes,” he stopped to choose his words carefully “awaken
down there in the morning before they use the washroom, its some sort of natural occurrence.” He
absolutely refused to throw the words “morning wood” into their already inappropriate chat.

“Oh,” she said, a chorus of *Hallelujah* playing in her mind, since this new found
information cleared all naughty thoughts from her conscience. Even though she was an intelligent
young woman, she wished that she had spent a little more time studying the biology. Certainly they
had not taught anything close to *that* in Muggle studies. “Well good then. Just…please, let’s
not let *that* happen again, alright?” she said, turning her head to face Harry. This led her
to the question that had been in her mind since she had first notice him sleeping next to her.
“Harry, how *did* this happen anyway?”

Harry turned to look at her best friend’s face. He had expected to see her glaring at him like
he was some sort of pervert who had crossed the line into her private space, but instead she wore a
look a genuine curiosity, the same look that dawned over her whenever they were introduced to a new
spell in class. He told the story of how he had been worried about her, sacrificing his own
blankets to stop her cold shivers. She listened intently as he told her of how he wanted to stay
near in case she needed something, and about how the beds had magically joined together before he
slipped under the covers to prevent himself from becoming a human icicle.

“So you see, my intents were noble. And I swear to you that I started as far away from you as
possible. How we ended up in…*that* arrangement is beyond me,” Harry finished.

Hermione held back a smile. “Yes, that was quite interesting.” she said softly, the memory of
their closeness and his arms around her causing goose bumps to form on her body for reasons quite
beyond her. “But thank you for caring so much Harry, the rest certainly did wonders for me. I feel
absolutely wonderful.”

Harry smiled at the admittance of gratitude. For no apparent reason at all, Harry had a sudden
urge to run his hand down the side of Hermione’s smiling face, but he brushed away the thought.

Eventually the two got up and dressed, preparing themselves for the now almost mechanical
routine of destroying their present location of evidence before moving to a new location. As they
stood outside and Hermione shoved the tent back into her purse, Harry took out his invisibility
cloak and placed it over them.

“Ready?” she asked Harry as she thought of their next location. He smiled and nodded, and she
returned his smile with a wide grin of her own. As they disappeared with a *“pop!”* out of
view, they both were thinking the same thought: Despite the ending, in the very back of their minds
they both secretly wished that last night would somehow happen again.



3. When Walls Come Tumbling Down
--------------------------------

**A/N:** This will be my first and only author’s note for this series, for I think people
really just want to get to the fluffiness, but wow! Thanks all for the great reviews, they really
did inspire me to whip up this chapter faster than usual. I just have to address a few things. If
you notice this story to stray towards the “Horcruxes, what Horcruxes?” side, or if they are
speaking/acting a bit (or a lot, I don’t know) OOC, or if there is a minor contradiction to former
canon in my writing, I apologize in advance. Then again, DH wasn’t that accurate to cannon either,
no was it? Oops sorry, rant done. But this is just an idea which popped into my head and I ran with
it. That’s what good fanfiction is about! I have no clue where it will end, but I do have lots more
plot bunnies up my sleeve, so keep reviewing and I’ll keep (trying to be) entertaining! I also
apologize for any grammatical and spelling errors, me and my proofers try our hardest!

Thanks much, Wilkes

PS: Did I mention this is my first fic EVER? Ok, back to the show :)

**Chapter 3:** **When Walls Come Tumbling Down**

“Bloody hell Hermione, that was close!” said Harry, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even see them until they started coming for me!” Hermione managed to
muster as she clutched the pain in her side. She too was breathing heavily.

Harry had been standing guard in front of the tent when he had heard a commotion coming from the
forest to his right. He had to squint past the snowfall to see three hounds bounding straight
towards his location, chasing after the footprints of an invisible being. Harry had just readied
his wand to stun the dogs when something had literally tackled him, the two of them tumbling past
the entrance of the tent and winding up on top of one another as the flap leading to the outside
magically sealed itself.

Harry made a motion to push Hermione off of him, but she stopped him by slapping her hand over
his mouth. He hadn’t noticed the shadows of three enormous hunting dogs sniffing along the outside
of the tent. Harry knew that the wards they put up would prevent the predators from tracing them,
or seeing the tent at all, but with the looming threat of Voldemort finding them, he did not want
to push his luck.

After several grueling minutes, he heard a loud whistle and saw the dogs turn their heads. Two
of them returned to the caller immediately, the third trailing behind after one final sniff of his
lost prey. Both Harry and Hermione let out the breath they had been holding, their hearts still
thumping after the surprise attack.

Hermione had been out in the nearby woods searching for edible vegetation for their supper. They
had been taking shifts scavenging for food everyday, usually barely scraping enough mushrooms or
the occasional fish to tide their hunger for a few hours. Even now, Harry could see Hermione’s
bounty of berries scattered on the floor around him, the invisibility cloak also lying in a heap
nearby.

“Sorry about that Harry. I was so reckless! I had found a clearing with a bunch of bushes
containing these berries; I was so excited that I forgot to check my surroundings. Even though I
was invisible, they must have noticed my scent and got curious,” Hermione explained, still trying
to catch her breath.

“Well, you didn’t have to knock me over. I had a perfect chance to stun them as they were coming
after you,” Harry retorted, the bump on the back of his head beginning to grow.

“You should be grateful! If you had, the wards protecting this tent would have broken and then
we would have much worse things to worry about then some overgrown mutts,” Hermione snapped back.
Harry immediately felt sorry, admitting that his knowledge of protective charms was far from
comprehensive

There was a moment of silence, and Harry swore that he saw Hermione blush, but she turned away
too quickly for him to confirm this. His stomach did a little back flip as he too started to
blush.

In the panic of the moment, neither had realized that Hermione was lying directly on top of
him.

As nonchalantly as she could, she rolled off of Harry and began to gather their dinner for the
night, making sure not to make eye contact with him. Harry, on the other hand, remained lying down
on the floor. He had noticed that ever since their incident the night before, there had been an
unintentional element of weirdness amongst the two of them. Whenever they came into physical
contact, usually by accident, they seemed to jump away from each other as if electrically shocked.
He determined that although they had cleared the air between them, there was still an undertone of
awkwardness in the tent.

He heard a voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Hermione’s tell him that they were
acting like embarrassed school children, but he brushed it off.

They spent the rest of the evening distracting themselves with chores, Hermione preparing their
meal and Harry reviewing for the hundredth time all the information about Horcuxes they had
gathered, although he knew that no new conclusions would be found. Their conversation had become
nothing more than one-liners and head motions, and although a part of Harry missed their ordinarily
enjoyable banter, the silence was a lot better than risking having to speak about the day before
again.

It wasn’t that he wanted to pretend like the whole ordeal hadn’t happened; it was just that he
did not know how he was felt about it. He sighed and rubbed his temple as he picked up another list
of notes in Hermione’s handwriting, this one labeled “Potential Hiding Places” (Ron had scribbled
underneath it “…and the million reasons why we won’t find anything there”). Yes, he knew when he
climbed into bed with her that it was going to cause a bit of drama, but he never expected his body
to betray his clean intentions. Also, he could not help but feel that a part of Hermione had given
him permission to cross the narrow line between friendship and…”physical intimacy” was the phrase
he chose to describe it after several hours of searching for an appropriate title. Never in his
life had he ever wanted to be with Hermione in a way more than just being friends, he was sure of
that at least. After several minutes of silent contemplation, he decided that the emotions he was
feeling were just side effects of an unexpected dramatic experience, and nothing more.

Shortly after, Hermione announced that their dinner was ready, and they ate their fruit and
broth practically in silence, Harry’s gaze shifting to a dark burn spot on the table every time
their eyes accidentally met. Likewise, Hermione found a loose thread on her sweater much more
amusing then trying to strike up a conversation with her best friend. Neither seemed to notice that
both their bowls had emptied and they were now pointlessly sitting across from each other, politely
ignoring one another.

Harry, deciding that anything would be better than being around his best friend at the moment,
picked up the dishes and headed to the kitchen. Lost in his own musings, he gave a slight jump when
he felt Hermione reach over his stomach to grab a washcloth, drying the rinsed bowls and spoons as
he cleaned the remnants of their supper off of them.

He had had enough. One of them had to be the bigger person and pop the awkward bubble they had
trapped themselves into. “Hermione, about last night…”

“Hmm?” she responded passively, although Harry noticed that she was rubbing a caked on piece of
food on the bowl she was drying with much more force than necessary. She had not turned her head to
look at him when he started talking.

“Look, it was weird, and both of us can’t explain how it happened, but it did. It’s just a
curious situation that will make for one hell of a story to tell our children one day.” He paused
as Hermione shot him a look for the first time all night, eyebrows raised. Realizing what he had
just said, he caught the spoon that he had squeezed out of his hand in surprise before adding,
“Umm…err…our respective children, of course.”

“Right, uh…of course” Hermione said swiftly as she turned her attention back to drying, “Of
course.” There was another moment of quiet before she continued. “I mean, there is absolutely
nothing wrong with two platonic friends of opposite genders, who have known each other as long as
we have, to share a bed for a night, right?. Especially if it is for very, *very*
understandable reasons!” Somehow she had managed to utter all of that in one breath.

“Exactly!” Harry said, hoping that his feigned confidence hid the fact that he was *still*
not comfortable about what had happened. “I mean, it was cold, and you were sick, and--”

“--and you couldn’t just leave someone who is sick alone--“

“Right! And if you had been awake, I’m sure you wouldn’t have minded--”

“—right, don’t be ridiculous! I wouldn’t have you freeze to death just for my sake--”

“--of course you wouldn’t! So it was one hundred percent consensual--”

“--and nothing happened--”

“--and nothing happened! No one could blame us because when we shifted into that position, we
weren’t in control of our actions--”

“—yes yes, no need to feel guilty. We are just a boy and a girl who did our best to continue on
comfortably given the conditions!”

“It was survival, nothing else!”

“Yes, survival!”

They both took a deep breath, and let out an unsure and very soft laugh. To justify last night
as “survival” was a stretch, but to call it that certainly made themselves feel better. They
finished the dishes and did a little cleaning around the kitchen to as a distraction from their own
thoughts.

“So…” Harry added as he put the knives away into a drawer. “You’re not going to hex me to death,
right?”

Hermione genuinely laughed this time, and patted him on the shoulder. “Of course not, Harry. I
am perfectly alright with what happened. Like you said, it’s a one time thing that will make a
funny story one day. Let’s just move on. It’s not like we’ll ever be put into that situation again
anyway.”

She hoped that this little speech had hidden her anxiety, and when Harry gave her a slight smile
and returned to his notes in the opposite part of the tent, Hermione let out a sigh of relief. The
truth was that she was relieved that they never had to be in that situation again, as it had
ignited feelings within her which she was incapable of deciphering at the moment. They were in the
middle of a war, and the last thing she needed was to add more mysteries to her life. She was
perfectly happy deeming them a symptom of her brief stint of sickness anyway.

Being forced to stay indoors for the night in fear of being tracked again, they both began to
realize how redundant being in hiding could be. Harry had blazed through their Horcrux notes so
many times that he was not even reading the words on the papers in front of him anymore, and
Hermione only feigned reading *The Tales of Beedle the Bard*, her mind obviously
elsewhere.

Harry let out a yawn. With his brain in overdrive the whole day, his sudden fatigue had come as
no surprise. He changed into his pajamas (Hermione had noticed him undressing and turned away,
blushing furiously despite having seen his toned chest several times before) and went into the
bathroom to wash up before bed. Hermione took this brief stint of privacy to change into her own
night clothes. Even if Harry and Ron’s were fine with public exhibitionism, she still had a sense
of modesty.

“Well, Hermione, I’m exhausted. I think I’m gonna get some rest,” said Harry.

She let out a yawn in response. “That sounds lovely right now. Sweet dreams, Harry.”

“You too, wake me up if you need anything. Night, ‘Mione,” said Harry, taking drowsy steps
towards his room. Inspired with a sudden burst of happiness at the thought of once again sleeping
without a sense of guilt, he was looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep. He placed his
glasses on the side table, made sure that his wand was secure in his shirt pocket, and glanced over
at Hermione to make sure she was ok. Presently she was climbing into bed, her dressing gown a lot
more revealing of her figure than her bundles from the night before, as the dying chill of the
winter storm had stripped them of the need to wear extra layers to sleep. Harry gawked. When had
Hermione gotten curves like *that*? He frowned as her body disappeared under the sheets before
he could investigate the matter further and the light dimmed in the room (courtesy of Hermione’s
wand), but almost immediately he started to choke on his spit.

*“Best friends do not check one another out, Harry Potter!”* He heard a voice in his head
say, but this time it was entirely his own voice scolding him. *“That is HERMIONE, for God’s
sake!”* Harry felt a sudden urge to take a shower, but another loud yawn told him that it could
wait until the morning. He shrugged off his thoughts and literally jumped into bed, certain he was
more than happy to return to the relative emotional security of his dreams.

What Harry wasn’t certain of was why his bed felt an awful lot like the floor of the tent, and
why it had made a woody *“thud!”* as he landed on it.

“Hermione!” Harry yelled across the tent, adding a second bump on the head to his growing list
of injuries. “I think we have a problem!”

To his surprise, when his eyes opened, Hermione was already hovering over him with a look of
concern. “Yes, I realized when I tried to sleep that I had way too much space for one person.” Both
their gazes shifted to the enormous bed sitting in Hermione’s room, the last piece of evidence of
what had happened the day before. Hermione offered Harry a hand up, and together they attempted to
tear their two beds apart. No spell either knew could undo the magic which bound the mattresses
together. As a matter of fact, there was no seam or other mark which indicated that it had ever
been two separate pieces in the first place. Even attempts to cut the bed down the middle with a
kitchen knife were met with a flash of blue light, in which any progress was instantly undone as
the bed reattached itself together.

Frustrated, Harry turned to Hermione with an imploring look on his face. She could only return a
frown, as she too had exhausted her spell book. She jumped a bit when Harry’s face lit up
suddenly.

“No problem, I’ll just use Ron’s cot then,” Harry said, proud of his idea but also feeling
stupid for not thinking of it before. Hermione opened her mouth and held out a hand to stop her
friend, but he was already at the flap which sealed Ron’s room off from the rest of the tent. Harry
reached for the zipper and forced it down to the bottom in one pull. When he looked up, he saw…

The wall of the tent.

Harry stared in disbelief. Surely, this was a joke. An *evil, evil* joke. He turned on his
heels to face Hermione, his brow on the verge of pulsating in confused anger. She was still holding
her hand out, but slowly brought it down. The dark glare he was shooting her at the moment told her
that he wanted an explanation before he exploded.

“Harry, the thing about magical lodgings like these are that they are adaptive. Think of it as a
sort of portable Room of Requirement, only it can only change the number of people it can fit
within it. As soon as Ron left and we both left the tent, it must have changed to a two-person
accommodation,” explained Hermione, although it had done little to eliminate the gaping expression
on Harry’s face.

*“Great…”* Harry thought to himself begrudgingly. “So we’re stuck with one bed for two
people, then?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, “probably until another person comes to live in here with us. But even I
had no idea that bed-binding spell would be permanent. I didn’t even know there was such a charm on
them!”

Harry let out a faint, angry grunt, and threw his arms up in frustration. “Alright, well I’ll
sleep on the floor then! Problem solved,” Harry said, making a motion to grab a pillow and a few
blankets from the communal pile sitting on the bed.

Hermione groaned. She knew that she had dug her own grave. Had she not just said to Harry that
she was perfectly alright with the idea of sharing a bed with him? It seemed like a perfectly sound
statement, but then again she wholeheartedly believed that they would never have to face that
situation again. To back out on her word would be to admit that she was still feeling odd about
their encounter, so despite her apprehension, she did the only thing she could do.

She invited Harry Potter to sleep with her…again.

Harry shot her a horrified look, as if she had just asked him to jump off a bridge with her.
Honestly, he would have preferred the latter at this moment. He had prayed that for once Hermione
wouldn’t be so Hermione-ish and caring, but alas she had not backed out on her word from
before.

“Uhhh…naw Hermione, its ok,” he stuttered. “I’m not going to intrude…”

“Oh Harry, don’t be ridiculous. Like you said, it’s an innocent gesture. Just like sharing a
sofa in the common room,” Hermione said, surprised at the sincerity of her voice despite not being
all that confidant herself. Harry wished it was as easy as the analogy made it sound.

The ball was in his court now. To refuse once was being modest. To refuse any more than that
would be an admittance that he was uncomfortable to sleep next to his best friend. He knew Hermione
too well not to know that she was worried just as much as he was, but he would not show weakness in
front of her. If he could handle fighting Voldemort, he could survive sharing a bed with
Hermione.

“Well,” Harry started, talking more to reassure himself than to respond to Hermione, “It’s just
sleeping anyway, nothing harmful.”

“There you go,” Hermione said, playfully. Despite her nerves, she was immensely enjoying playing
on Harry’s apprehensions. It was easy to see that he was still unsure of himself. “No need to
worry, it’s just me.”

“Right, just you,” Harry muttered, sitting on the side of the bed as Hermione shifted over to
give him space. Before finishing his ascent, he quickly pulled out his wand and conjured a stack of
pillows out of thin air, each landing on the bed to create a makeshift wall between them (although
they would still be sleeping under the same set of blankets). With his back completely flat, Harry
could just make out the top of Hermione’s tuft of hair from over the barricade. He grinned
triumphantly.

“Just in case,” Harry said to her through the barrier.

“Good idea,” replied Hermione gratefully. Any sort of preventative measures he could think of
were more than alright with her. They both took a deep breath simultaneously, attempting to sigh
away their nerves. Harry shifted uncomfortably, and Hermione started to count the stitches in the
roof, not tired at all.

“Everything alright?” Hermione asked when Harry rose spontaneously, causing the sheets to slip a
little off of her and under the pillows to Harry’s side. He pulled out his wand, which caused
Hermione to shoot up instinctively and brandish her wand, causing the pile of pillows to spill over
Harry’s lap.

“Just dimming the lights a bit, sorry,” Harry said as he gave her a calming glance. He saw her
tuck her wand back into her pocket as he toned down the fire a bit. “Much better.”

“Yes, much,” said Hermione, her heart still pounding from the scare he had given her, although
the truth was that it was beating fast to begin with. “Good night then, Harry.”

“Good night.”

Harry fumbled his way back into his sleeping position, making sure not to cause the fluffy wall
he had just rebuilt to topple over. He pulled the comforter tighter around him so that they would
fully envelop his body, but he was met with a surprisingly equal force dragging the sheet in the
opposite direction. Apparently, Hermione had had the same idea. Their following tug-of-war resulted
in both of them being half-buried in white cushions.

“Sorry!”

“Sorry!”

Harry growled under his breath. This was getting ridiculous, but he was *not* going to have
last night repeat itself. Not only was it for his own mental protection, it was for hers too. The
last thing Harry wanted to do was to make Hermione feel like an accidental teddy bear, and he knew
that if “it” happened again his whole argument of “it was a big set of coincidences!” would lose a
good portion of its credibility. Not only did the pillow wall prevent him from unconsciously
*molesting* Hermione in his sleep, it was, Harry determined, the last defense protecting him
from ruining his entire friendship with her.

His scar suddenly erupted, causing him to wince at the unexpected pain. Thankfully, his face
from the nose up was covered under a pillow, which prevented Hermione from noticing, which in turn
prevented her from worrying about him. He was pretty sure she had enough on her mind at the moment,
if his own was any indication. An image started to hazily fill his mind’s eye, but he fought it
back. *“You wait in line, I have a nobler quest at the moment!”* Harry shouted from within
himself. Somehow, as if an obedient dog, the pain slowly dissipated at his command. Grudgingly, and
perhaps with too much frustration-driven emphasis, he bounced up to a sitting position and leant
over to fix the broken divider. As a result of trying to guide his “noble quest” far away from the
path of failure and back towards the area of “likely not to work anyway”, Harry was rewarded
with…

A bump in the forehead.

“Oof…sorry!”

“Oww!” Harry cried, the spot where Hermione’s head had collided with his own throbbing from the
impact. For the second time tonight, he cursed that he and Hermione thought so much alike. Harry
wished for a second that the girl in his bed was Ginny instead. At least she wouldn’t have thought
to help rebuild what she had helped to destroy. As a matter of fact, her solutions, advice,
encouragement, and attempts to “help” him with anything all seemed to revolve around her snogging
his brains out.

He shuddered, not sure whether it was at the realization that that description of what he once
thought to be his one “true” relationship was frighteningly accurate, or the fact that by wishing
Hermione was Ginny he had inadvertently reasoned with himself that he wanted her to snog the hell
out of him.

*“This bloody wall is staying up if it’s the last thing I do!”* Harry thought in a voice
resembling a battle cry, his vigor rejuvenated with an intense desire to get the image of both
Ginny and Hermione out of his head.

If the scene in front of him had been bodies instead of pillows, then calling it a “massacre”
would definitely have been appropriate. The multiple layered fortress lay in ruins, some of the
former pieces in relatively the same spots, many more piled where Harry and Hermione had once been
laying down. He glanced at Hermione, who too was rubbing her temple and glaring a bit at him. A
light *“Pft!”* took Harry’s attention away from his best friend and on to the floor, where two
pillows had just fallen over the end of the bed, landing just a bit across the direct middle on
Hermione’s side. Springing like a tiger on injured pray, Harry lunged forward and reached over
their mattress, grabbing at the two fugitive building blocks.

“Got ya!” Harry bellowed as his hand disappeared from view.

“I got it!”

He was surprised that the perpetrators were actually quite small, soft, delicate, and warm, and
they squeezed his hand back tightly as he in turn held them. He realized that they were not like
the cushions being crushed by his body at the moment, but for some reason holding them felt
unusually comfortable, almost as if a part of him wanted them to feel this way. They also, he
realized after a moment, felt awfully bony, almost as if they were someone’s…

“*WAIT A MINUTE!”* Harry screamed mentally, his blood boiling. A quick peak over the side
of the bed confirmed his fear.

Hermione, being the brilliant, helpful (“*irksome”*, Harry added, his eyebrow twitching)
witch that she was, had gone overboard expecting to recover the pillows herself. Instead, they were
now holding on tightly to one another’s hands. Slowly their heads turned to face each other, eyes
so open that they could see their frazzled brains working overtime in the backs of their head
trying to contain the situation, neither daring to say a word..

They released their grip *very* slowly, as if in doing so the other would not notice it had
happened. But it had, and Harry’s lower lip was starting to tremble. He was almost on the verge of
tears, very angry tears at that, and it was all *her* fault. Harry’s glare penetrated through
Hermione as frustration took over his mental process.

A sharp pain started once again in his scar, but this time he showed no physical reaction.

*“Don’t. Even. Try,”* Harry thought, his mind taking on the form of an angry Hungarian
Horntail, which made his ordinarily excruciating vision stop and cower in fear.

“Harry, you’re staring,” Hermione muttered softly, blushing even more than she was when they had
first emerged from the side of the bed. Harry was fuming. The wall wasn’t the problem,
*Hermione* was the problem. He was doing this for her, and she was repaying him by impeding
his every action. She was the enemy in this wicked game they were playing, and he did not
appreciate it one bit. Something within him had cracked, and his neck craned a bit to the side as a
vein in his neck started to vibrate.

Harry’s mind went back to something Moody had told him many years ago: *“If you can’t reason
with your foe by civil means…”*

He finished the sentence in a whisper: “…use force.”

“What do you mean use…” Hermione did not a chance to finish her question. As if possessed, his
eyes glowing with a savage determination, he bridged the small gap in between them and tackled her
backwards onto the bed, their bodies making the magical springs squeak at the sudden rush of force.
“Harry, what are you doing?” she asked, too shocked to feel any other emotion. He had pinned each
of her hands down with one of his, holding her by the wrists so that they touched behind her head.
She struggled to free herself from her crazed friend, but he brought his chest gently down on hers
to prevent her from moving, hands still tight around her wrists. Harry brought his face very close
to Hermione’s, so close that their noses were touching.

Staring into her dark brown eyes, he said slowly and monotonously, “I can handle this Hermione,
as much as I appreciate your,” he paused to put a snide emphasis on the next word, “*help*. So
you stay put while I reconstruct the wall and we can go to sleep in peace, ok?”

She nodded her head slightly, not knowing what else to do. Her body was shaking slightly out of
fear, and her heart was racing, beating against Harry’s as he continued to pin her down. His deep
breaths brushed lightly against her lips and her pulse almost doubled. Harry glared down at
Hermione, and he felt for the first time that he had, perhaps, come on *just* a bit too strong
and sudden. It was obvious that he had scared her half to death, and he began to question whether
he had reacted appropriately to the situation.

Under the impression that it was better to get the job done before he had another angry
outburst, he gently pushed himself off of her, still holding down her wrists to make sure she
stayed in place. He could feel her hands shaking as he held them, and, in an attempt to both calm
her down and offer a silent apology, Harry did something that he had never done before.

He kissed Hermione on the forehead.

“Now you stay still,” he said, his tone much softer this time around. His body disappeared out
of Hermione’s field of view as he jumped off the bed to pick up the pillows that had flown off
during his pounce. Dumbfounded by fear and flustered by the residual tingling in the spot where
Harry’s lips had met her scalp, Hermione obeyed his order. She did not even move a muscle as he
placed the pillows back into their original position, or even when the sheets around her pulled
slightly towards his direction as he prepped himself for sleep. She was completely numb.

If her thoughts had been in the moment, she might have heard Harry wish her good night. But it
wasn’t until much later, when his constant heavy breathing filled the tent, that she was capable of
grasping what had just happened to her. In the span of less than a minute, Harry Potter had pinned
her down, made her more frightened that she had ever been in her life, and then immediately
proceeded to drain her of all her mental capabilities.

Hermione brought her hand up to brush the spot where he had kissed her. If this is what happened
every time that she had kissed him there, she was much more vicious than she had ever realized.
Wrapping the blanket tighter around herself, she closed her eyes in deep thought. She had thought
things would never get more unexplainably awkward after the night before, but this was giving it
one hell of a run for its money.



4. The Promise
--------------

**A/N:** One chapter and I’m already breaking my own rules. Just want to thank you guys again
for the reviews and advice, you’re the best inspiration there is. But for anyone who is expecting
them to get together soon OR does not like them being constantly thrown into awkward and ridiculous
situations involving one another, this fic isn’t for you :). And if all of it seems to always
result in antics revolving around their shared bed…well, don’t be surprised if it does, that’s all
I have to say! Probably should have said all that in the first chapter, huh? I’m so evil,
mwahahahah!

Enjoy. - Wilkes

**Chapter 4: The Promise**

Another day, another location. Harry and Hermione were sitting on their bed, a stack of books
spread open at different angles between the two of them. Hermione had found a new lead while
scanning through *Hogwarts: A History*. An article had stated in passing that Godric
Gryffindor often wore a golden monocle while reading texts to his class, and they had been scouring
Hermione’s mini-library for any additional information they could find.

“It says here,” Hermione said, absentmindedly spinning her quill in thought, “that it was
thought that he could see things ‘no other human being could’ while wearing it…”

“Like Mad-Eye’s…mad eye?” asked Harry, smirking as he skimmed through *A History of
Magic*.

“Ha ha!” Hermione mocked as she flipped a page.

Both seemed a thousand times more comfortable than they had been in weeks. Surprising to both of
them, the pillow blockade had actually worked, effectively making their unified bed separate once
again. Besides the occasional rebel falling off the bed in the middle of the night, the wall had
managed stayed in tact, and neither of them had come close to coming into physical contact with the
other (although they both tended to gravitate towards the center of the bed, one of Harry’s arms
usually hanging over and lightly brushing Hermione’s shoulder). As more nights passed without
awkward entanglement, and their sanity became restored by a growing trust in the separator, they
reverted back to their normal, friendlier ways. Harry was glad to be able to talk with his best
friend without any fear, a feat he never would have thought himself capable of achieving a few days
ago.

“Well, according to this,” Harry started, his eyes following his index finger as it glided along
the paragraph, “his monocle was…” He trailed off.

“What? What is it, Harry?” pleaded Hermione, the quill spinning faster than ever.

“It was destroyed, shattered in a duel,” he answered with a frown as he closed the book. “So, so
much for that one.”

Hermione ran a hand through her hair and shook her head a bit. “Well, we’ll just have to keep on
looking then, now wont we?” she said, reaching into her purse and feeling around for another set of
books.

Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes, watching Hermione fumble through the bag. The emanating sounds
as she shifted around its many contents really did make it seem as if there was a spacious
warehouse in there. He wondered that if the situation ever arose in which they would need another
hiding space, perhaps they would be able to fit in it.

Her arm returned with three more books, and she handed one to him as she opened up one for
herself. Harry sighed. He had left Hogwarts behind to find the Horcruxes, yet here he was,
seventeen years old, on a quest to kill the worst mass murderer ever known, and still studying old,
raggedy librams like a student. He flipped through the ancient hard-cover, not really knowing what
he was looking for. All that could be heard in the tent was the quiet noise of turning pages, the
occasional scratch of quill on parchment, and the silent sound of wood cracking in the fire.

After an hour of research, Harry put the book down on his lap and stretched his arms as far over
his head as he could reach. “Where’s Ron when you need him?” he said, not really thinking about
it.

Hermione looked up from her work and stared at Harry, her face still as if she was studying hard
for an upcoming exam. *“She’s really cute when she’s determined,*” mused Harry, and he smiled
back at her as he returned back to his examination of *The Black Book of Black Magic*. He
could tell that she was still looking at him, but the sound of a feather bristling through the air
rhythmically informed him that she had returned to the task at hand.

“I miss him too,” she said after a fifteen minute silence, causing Harry to look up at her in
surprise. Of all things Harry had expected her to feel for Ron, longing was definitely not one of
them. “I mean, he might be the biggest prat in the world, but he was still a good companion to have
around.”

Harry nodded slowly in agreement, returning to the book in front of him. The truth was, despite
their argument and his betrayal, he really *did* want him back. As much as he loved Hermione’s
company, it wasn’t the same without Ron around. Ron was like a brother, and he missed his
companionship and sense of humor dearly. They could use all the help they could get at the moment,
either way.

Also, having him around might distract him from the odd feelings he was starting to have
regarding Hermione. After the night where she had slept in his arms, he had not been able to get a
good night’s sleep for more than a few hours. He kept waking up in the middle of the night, an
emptiness in his heart which he could not explain. When it wasn’t a sudden sadness, he woke up with
his heart racing in fear. Silently, he would peer over or through the pillow wall to make sure that
she was ok. It was as if he *had* to insure himself that she was still there with him, fearing
that she had been taken away in the middle of the night. If he lost her too, if she left his
life…

He felt a soft hand close around his, a shiver going up his spine. Looking up, he met Hermione’s
look of concern, responding with a questioning gaze of his own.

“You were shaking,” she said in a soothing tone, the notes she had been working on tossed gently
to her side. “What’s wrong Harry?”

“Why did you stay with me, Hermione?”

The question had come suddenly and hung in the air, a cricket chirping somewhere in the distance
outside. “Don’t be silly,” Hermione said with an eye roll. She had not thought too much as to why
she had stayed, she just thought it was the obvious thing to do. It was an undeniable truth, like
the ground being below their feet and the sky being above their heads.

But Harry had not taken the question so lightly. He continued to stare at her, trying to peek
into her brain. “I’m being serious Hermione, *why* did you stay with me? I know you agreed
with him, I heard you two whispering when you thought I was asleep. I saw you two jump apart
suddenly and attempt to act as if nothing was happening whenever I came into the tent unexpectedly.
You two seemed so synonymous in thinking. Why would you choose me over your boyf…over Ron?”

Hermione stopped what she was doing once again, but this time she met Harry’s gaze. Never before
had she seen such sincerity in his deep, green eyes, his soft voice melting her heart, a single
tear rolling down the side of his cheek. This was not the strong, independent man that she had
grown accustomed to, but rather he seemed much younger…much more vulnerable…so innocent. This was
her best friend without the hardened exterior he had gained from years of heartache and pain. She
had never before seen him so fearful, and for the first time in her seven years of acquaintanceship
with him she realized how lonely he must be. To live such a tragic life and still be able to smile
and move on, death always looming over him, the fate of the world resting solely on his shoulders.
It must have been a horrible existence, but he had gone on strong. For himself, for his friends,
for strangers who were dying by the handfuls each day, for his elders, for all those he had lost,
for Ron…

…and for her.

“What if,” Harry started, the words barely coming out of his throat as he held back his tears.
He promised himself that he would not do this, not privately and especially not to anyone else. He
had to remain resolved, despite how his quest tore holes into his heart. Slowly, his breathing
erratic, he continued. “What if I can’t do it Hermione? What if we can’t find the other Horcruxes?
Everyday we spend searching is one more day he has to plan, one more day he has to *kill*.
Everyone expects me to save the world because I am the ‘Chosen One’ but nobody understands that for
each new name in the Prophet’s obituaries, I am the one responsible!”

Hermione had started to tear up. His speech was breaking her heart. She wished that there was
something she could do to relieve Harry of his burden, but she felt so helpless.

Harry’s vision continued to blur, but he could not bring himself to stop talking. “If I fail,
millions will die because of *me,* Hermione. I just don’t know if I can do this. I am fighting
a losing war, and the more people I get attached to, the more people I end up saying goodbye to.
I…” He was losing his restraint. No longer could he hold it in. He took a deep breath before
finishing, “I’m just so scared!”

Hermione caught him just in time, holding him tightly against her as his armor finally crumbled.
He clung to her as years of repressed emotion flowed out of his eyes and throat. Never before had
he cried like this. It was as if a dam had ruptured in his heart. She ran his hands through his
hair as she tried to comfort him, not caring that her own face was stained with tears. The pressure
had finally caused him to collapse, and she knew that the only thing that kept him from plunging
into hopeless despair was her embrace.

He continued to shake as the powerful tears consumed him, his face buried into Hermione’s
shoulder. In a hoarse voice, and through his uncontrollable sobbing, he expressed the horrible
thought that he had never admitted to anyone, even himself.

“I don’t want to die!”

Another wave of emotions consumed him, and his revulsions doubled. Hermione could no longer hold
it in, as she too began to cry against him. Together, they held on to each other, letting the toils
of war finally affect them.

“Harry, oh, Harry,” was all Hermione could muster to say, but she did not have to say anymore.
Secretly, she had repressed the notion which the prophecy had alluded to in their fifth year. She
knew that there was a possibility that Harry would not come back after the final encounter. It was
the single most depressing idea that had ever crossed through her mind. If Harry died without
getting a chance to live a free life, to have the family he never had, to be happy…it would be the
cruelest fate in the world. They held on to each other desperately, clinging for life itself.

“Promise me Hermione,” Harry managed through sniffles, not able to face her directly in fear of
another attack of sadness. “Promise you’ll never leave me. I can’t do this alone.”

“I promise Harry, I promise,” she whispered, her heart behind every single word. “I will always
be by your side, until the end.” A fresh set of tears streamed down her face as she buried it into
his shoulder, squeezing him as hard as she could as if imprinting herself into his body, into his
soul.

It was several hours before they tore themselves away from one another, the mirth of the room
entirely drained, replaced with a feeling of bittersweet sorrow. The sun had set long ago, and all
that remained was the omniscient glow of dying fire in the middle of the room. They silently
dressed into their night clothes, neither wanting to break the solemnity of the moment. Together,
they crawled into their respective sides of the bed, mere feet apart in reality but so far apart in
spirit, both of them wishing that more could be said, that more could be done.

An ominous presence hung over them as they both closed their eyes in a feeble attempt to escape
from the horrors of their world. Hermione had never been so depressed in her life, but she realized
the importance of her presence. She had come along to help Harry with her mind, but now she
realized that her role was much more than she had ever expected. Holding back the tears she wanted
to cry for her best friend, she waved her wand and mumbled silently. Slowly, the pillows that
separated their bodies floated to a corner, where they piled quietly one by one. Without even
acknowledging the sudden change, and without uttering a single word, Harry crossed the threshold
between them and took her body into his arms, holding her as he had once before. She pressed
herself against him and let their bodies meld, sharing a connection they both knew they had with no
one else as he shook so subtlety against her. She had promised him that she would always be with
him, and for at least one night, she would show him that she was telling the truth.

Tomorrow they would part and return to their normal ways, but for tonight, the tears now flowing
freely, silently from her eyes, Hermione would let Harry hold her fragile body as they both slowly
fell into the peaceful, pristine world of endless dreams.



5. Drawings in the Snow
-----------------------

**Chapter 5: Drawings in the Snow**

Hermione pulled hard down on her winter coat, cascades of snow dropping to the ground in little
clumps. She was in the middle of her watch shift, the dark night illuminated slightly by the light
of the stars reflecting on the snow which sat softly on the grass. The sky cried in a constant
stream of tiny white angels, which landed to join their brothers and sisters scattered as far as
Hermione could see. As usual, the night had been uneventful, not a creature stirring in the
wilderness around her. Harry slept peacefully on their bed inside, which relieved Hermione’s heart.
He seemed happiest when he was sleeping, his entire presence showing no sign that he was anything
but normal, except for the famous lightning shaped scar which marked his forehead.

Her head started to slip off the arm which was resting on her knee as she started to doze off.
The trip was starting to take its toll on her, and although leaving her best friend was the last
thing she would ever do, she could not help but long for a comfortable bed to call her own and
meals of more substance than they had managed to scavenge from day to day. In an attempt to keep
herself awake, she drove her boots into the ground repeatedly, the resulting crunch enough to keep
her senses interested in the world of reality. She yawned, her stationary march slowing as
drowsiness started to take over her again. As flakes continued to fall to the ground, her mind
began to wander.

A blink and she was back at Hogwarts, huddled in a sobbing mess in the girls’ bathroom as the
lazy footsteps of a troll filled her heart with fear. Another blink, and she was gazing into a
mirror, the form of a basilisk slithering quickly into view before her mind went blank. Yet another
momentary darkness and she was flying, clutching onto Harry as together they flew on Buckbeak on
their mission to rescue Sirius. Again her vision refocused, and she was walking into the Great Hall
dressed in dazzling periwinkle, a messy-haired young man staring at her with his jaw dropped in the
distance. The snow was falling slower now, as her vision blacked out, the only thing in Hermione’s
mind a voice calling her name, so filled with concern and fear that she could tell that its owner
thought she had died. A gentle breeze chilled her body, and she was in an abandoned classroom,
canaries spinning around her head as her heart had been torn once again by Ron, Harry trying to the
best of his ability to comfort her. A flash of light this time, and she was sitting at Bill and
Fleur’s wedding, beaming at her best friend.

The sudden chill of snow penetrating her glove brought her back to reality. She had drooped
forward in her daze, her right hand flat against the ground now, keeping her from tumbling forward
entirely. The night had seemed to stop, the snow no longer falling. Hermione took a moment to
intake the beauty of the twilight. It amazed her how despite the war unfolding around them, nature
did not seem to notice. Despite the events of the past and present, life seemed to move on.

She brushed off her hands, pieces of snow descending lazily back to the earthy floor. After a
moment, Hermione picked up a nearby stick and started to draw in the snow, the last image of her
slideshow of memories still lingering in the front of her mind.

She did not know why, but she found that she could not stop thinking about weddings recently.
More specifically, Harry’s wedding. Her dreams seemed to be obsessed with the idea, but the bride
always remained anonymous. But on some occasions, the image reversed. She would be the bride, her
vision blurred by the veil. However, similar to her other dream, when the thin, white covering was
lifted it would end, her not knowing the man that she intended to spend forever with.

A stick figure of a woman appeared etched in the snow. Slowly, carefully, Hermione added a veil
behind her head. She then added a bouquet of flowers for the imaginary bride to hold. Sighing,
Hermione stopped drawing to stare at the figure. Perhaps these visions were a hidden fear, a
psychological reaction to the prospect of doom that followed them wherever they went. Truth be
told, she did not know if she would survive to even have a wedding some day.

She began to draw with the stick again. Next to the woman she drew a question mark approximately
the same size. Even if she had did survive to start a family, she had no clue who it would be with.
Yes, she had thought that it might be Ron one day, but his absence had allowed her to see the lack
of depth in their relationship. She traced over the question mark, increasing the depth of the
imprint until she could see grass where snow used to be. It seemed like Ron was the only person to
ever see her as more than a bookworm. Hermione frowned at the disappointing prospect. Was there
nobody out there that would see her for the real her, for the beautiful person she was inside the
rough, rule-abiding exterior? She mused this as she added arms to the top of the mystery grooms
curved upper body, his left hand holding on to his spouse’s right. With a sigh of finality, she
added legs to the dot of the question mark, dropping the stick to her side.

There stood Hermione Granger in the snow, ready to be married with a smile on her face, but
lacking someone to celebrate it with. The real Hermione placed her chin on her arms, staring with
an empty heart at the chilling vision of her own future.

“It’s sad really, Hermione Question Mark really doesn’t roll off the tongue. Also, I don’t think
you would marry a man who didn’t have a torso, although I think you could live with the oddly
shaped head if you loved him enough.”

Hermione jumped at the intrusion of her privacy. Over her shoulder stood Harry, obviously no
longer sleeping, smirking at his best friend. He conjured a box of his own and sat next to her,
still looking at the poor attempt at art Hermione had sketched into the cold, white canvas of
snow.

“What’s this all about, Hermione?” Harry asked, tilting his head as if the action would reveal
more about the drawing. She responded with a shrug.

“You’re up early, your shift doesn’t start for an hour,” Hermione said, glancing at her
wristwatch.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Harry responded, now looking into the forest in the distance. “Beautiful
night, though.”

“Yes,” Hermione said, trailing off. The snow had started again, a few flakes floating to the
ground as if the sky was testing to make sure the area was safe. She wrapped her arms around her
chest, trying to stave off the cold. Harry did the same, putting on his hat to keep his ears
warm.

“Harry,” said Hermione after a moment of silence. “Have you ever thought about the future?”

“Of course, always,” Harry said, turning to look at Hermione who was now staring at her drawing.
“We will find the Horcruxes, then I will have to face Vol…”

“No, Harry,” said Hermione, her face blank as if she was seeing a different reality. “Not what
will happen in a few days or weeks, I mean the *future*. Ten years from now, where do you see
yourself?”

“Hermione, I might not even be alive in ten days!” said Harry.

Hermione sighed and got up. “Never mind, it was a stupid question.” She started to move into the
tent before her hand was grabbed by Harry’s. Although he didn’t know why, he could tell that he had
hurt Hermione’s feelings. He pulled her back to him and she sat down, deliberately not looking into
his face.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?”

“You’ve never thought about your future, that’s what’s wrong Harry,” she said. “It seems as if
your heart is set on dying.”

The words hung in the air, striking at Harry’s heart. He turned and put his hands around
Hermione’s head, forcing her to look at him. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes as she
struggled to look away.

“Let go of me,” she said, turning her gaze downward. She really did not want to have this
conversation with Harry. All she wanted to do was be alone with her thoughts.

Harry let go of her head, instead putting a comforting hand on her leg, urging her to speak.
“Hermione, why wont you tell me what’s wrong?”

They sat there in silence. Hermione picked up her utensil and began to retrace the figures in
the snow. Her breathing was erratic, Harry could tell, as if she wanted nothing more than to have a
good cry. “Why doesn’t anyone love me, Harry?”

The words had barely been audible, but Harry had definitely heard them. He squeezed her leg in
reassurance. “Hermione, lots of people love you. Your parents, the Weasleys, me and Ron…”

“Not that kind of love, Harry,” she said, looking at Harry with fierceness. “*That* kind of
love…” She pointed the stick to the drawing as her ability to speak began to deteriorate.

Harry’s gaze shifted to that of the stick-figure couple. He was at a loss of words. Trying to
think of something reassuring to say involving Hermione and her love life, Harry realized how short
of a story that actually was. There was Krum, yes, but as she had told him many times before it was
more of a friendship then a relationship. Of course there was also Ron, but he dared not bring that
topic up again. So instead of saying something wrong and hurt her feelings again, he opted for
silence.

The quietness which ensued seemed only to reassure Hermione of her angst. “Sometimes,” Hermione
said, playing with a pile of snow near her foot, “I wish I was Ginny. Things would be much easier
that way.”

“Because you would be able to snog the famous Harry Potter whenever you like?” Harry said with a
smirk. She turned to give Harry a piercing gaze. Obviously, this wasn’t the time to make jokes, and
Harry removed the smile from his face.

“Sorry.”

“I mean, she is just perfect, isn’t she?” Hermione continued, ignoring Harry’s outburst
completely. “Popular, athletic, pretty…everything I’m not. That life would be so much easier to
live.”

“Hermione, you *are* pretty,” Harry said truthfully. He might not be able to deny the other
two facts, but she had certainly blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Harry’s eyes quickly went
up and down her body, examining her. She had lost the awkward look and buck-teeth she had once had
when he had met her, and her hair, although still quite messy, actually complimented the lightness
of her face.

She laughed at Harry’s response. “Thanks Harry, but you don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” he said seriously. “Any guy would be stupid to not want to be with a girl like
you. I mean, who needs all that superficial rubbish when they can have a girl who is smart, fun to
be with, caring, understanding…”

Hermione scoffed. “Really? Because you know those are the types of girls you have fallen for,
right Harry? The subtle, brainy girls in the background who get all the work done so all the eye
candy can have their fun, right?”

Harry stopped to think. It was painfully obvious that what Hermione had said was correct. Both
Ginny and Cho were the leaders among their clicks, and all boys seemed to fawn over them, not just
Harry. Likewise, both were excellent quidditch players, but truth be told there really was no
essence underneath the exterior. Harry felt ashamed that he had been so shallow.

“Hermione…”

“No, its fine Harry, really,” she said, waving her hand as if it would make her negativity
disappear. “It’s just…well it may seem silly, but I have thought about the future. A lot lately,”
she added as a second thought. Hermione cut off Harry as he attempted to talk. “I want to have
kids, Harry. I want to be a mom.”

“Well, I don’t think I could really help you with that one right n…Oww!” Harry said, his
sentence interrupted when Hermione’s fist crashed into his side.

“I keep having this dream where everyone I know is at my wedding, and they are crying tears of
joy and cheering for us…my husband and I, that is,” Hermione said when Harry gave her a look with
raised eyebrows. “But the problem is,” she paused to add a tuft of hair on the snow groom in front
of her, “I never see who his face is.”

“It’s only a dream, Hermione. One day you’ll find the guy who will sweep you off your feet and
treat you like you deserve to be treated.”

The stick dropped once again as Hermione gave her full attention to Harry. “I doubt that…”

“No really, don’t you believe in soul mates Hermione?”

“Of course not! The notion that there is one and only one person in the world who you can share
eternal happiness with is ridiculous. I mean, the mathematical possibilities are so highly
unlikely, and assuming you only meet a fraction of the entire world’s population within your life
time, to think that you can only…”

“Alright, alright Hermione,” said Harry, causing her to stop mid-rant. “Parents never read you
fairy tales as a kid, I take it?”

She blushed. “Actually yes, believe it or not I was obsessed with them until I got to Hogwarts.
Back then, I always hoped that one day I would find my own Prince Charming who would take me away
to his magic castle where we could live happily ever after.” Despite her previous depression,
Hermione couldn’t help but smile. “But back then, I thought that magic was a fantasy too, something
which could take you away from the hardships of the world.” She stopped talking, the smile fading
from her face as quickly as it had appeared.

Harry had a glum expression on his face too. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes, I think
that Muggles have it easier than we do.”

The snow had hastened its fall, and instinctively the two moved closer together in an attempt to
ward off the approaching storm. “The thing about love,” Harry said. He had been thinking about the
idea ever since they had started the conversation. “It’s all trial and error. That’s why I’m glad
you’re not like Ginny and Cho.”

Hermione’s interest peaked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if you were like them then you wouldn’t be like you,” Harry said simply, which caused
Hermione to laugh.

“You’re a real master of words, Harry.”

“No seriously. I’ve never been around girls my age before I came to Hogwarts, and if it weren’t
for you the females I would have known in school would have only been Ginnys and Chos,” Harry said,
realizing truly how unique Hermione was and that the majority of his female classmates were either
obsessed with boys or obsessed with sports. “You’re one in a million Hermione, don’t be like the
others and just date and snog any boy who gives you the time of day. You’re a precious treasure,
and you should save yourself for somebody special.”

Hermione was beet red now, hoping that her blush could be blamed on the snow that was flying at
her face rather from the words that were coming from Harry. Harry always knew what to say to cheer
her up. He was always there when she needed him, and although it may seem like she never left his
side, he had rarely left hers. True, they had spats over things in the past (the Half-Blood Prince
fiasco jumped to the front of her mind), but they never came to bitter fruition like his and her
fights with Ron had.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione didn’t realize that she had been staring at him. Also, it seemed
as if he had resumed talking, but she only could hear brief snippets.

“There will be some guy out there who will take care of you when you can’t take of yourself,
Hermione…”

As if on cue, an image of Harry coming up to her in the hallway with her books came into mind.
She remembered that she had stormed out of potions ready to cry over Ron again, but he had taken
the time to pick up her things after she had left them on their table.

“…and he will always be there to protect you…”

She recalled the moment when Hagrid had dragged them to the Forbidden Forest in their fifth year
to meet Grawp. Harry guarded her and held on to her as the giant confused them as strangers who had
intruded on his home.

“…someone who needs you as much as you need him…”

Her mind flashed back to three years prior, when a desperate Harry had consulted her to find a
way to summon his broomstick for the first Triwizard task. They had stayed up all night in an empty
classroom in attempts to perfect the spell.

“…and he will never make you cry, although he is the only one worth crying for…”

She was now staring right into Harry’s eyes. *He* had never made her cry, but the slightest
notion of him being in peril made her want to bawl her eyes out.

“…not to mention you he should be fanciable. Yes, it is shallow, but hey if we’re going for
perfect here…”

Harry expected her to smile at the comment, but her face seemed frozen in shock. It eerily
reminded him of when she had been paralyzed by the basilisk.

“Hermione, is everything…”

He never had a chance to finish the sentence before he was encompassed in her arms, as she began
to laugh. Hermione could tell that he had caught him off-guard, for he did not hug her back for a
few moments, but she didn’t care. All she wanted to do at that moment was hug her best friend.

“Oh Harry,” was all she said before another wave of laughter took over her.

Harry couldn’t help but grin broadly at the sudden shift of tone. He loved her laugher. It was
probably the best sound he had ever heard. Making her happy made him happy, and together they
laughed in glee.

A moment later she ended the hug. He kept his arms around her and looked into her smiling face.
Their eyes locked and the world around them disappeared. It was no longer snowing, the feeling of
cold was long gone from their body. They were alone. Harry realized that the smile had fallen from
Hermione’s face. He looked into her eyes, and all he could see was burning determination. It was as
if she had suddenly remembered a forgotten prerogative, and in this moment she was ready to
complete her objective. Harry continued to look into her beautiful, brown eyes. Had they always
been so deep? So wide? So…warm?

He saw her lick her lips subtly, a motion which caused sparks to fly in his chest. His heart was
thumping wildly, and suddenly his body temperature had risen out of control. Hermione’s lips were
seducing him, inviting him to cross the line they had never discussed crossing before.

“Harry,” she whispered, her hands finding their way from his hips to the back of his neck,
cradling it. “What’s happening?”

Her eyes were sparkling with desire, and she could see that he had the same look on his own
face. “I don’t know…” his voice trailed off as his grip around her waist tightened, pushing them
closer. “But…”

His neck tilted slightly, his breath tickling Hermione’s neck and sending electricity through
her body. Her heart was racing, and she had never wanted anything more in her life then for the
space between them to disappear. She closed her eyes, and could tell that their lips were only
inches apart.

They were so close now, the two best friends about to cross the threshold into a world beyond
friendship. The air they breathed was the same, and their hearts beat in unison as the inches
between them began to disappear.

“Harry…”

And then it happened. After almost an hour of anticipation, the event that neither of them had
planned to occur did.

The watch Harry received as a birthday present rang, signaling that it was his turn to wake up
and take over Hermione’s shift.

Their eyes opened at the sudden noise, and the moment was over. They saw that the snow was
coming down at a constant pace, the moon hung distantly above them, and that their lips were about
to touch. The sudden realization caused them to jump apart, Harry nearly falling off of his
box.

“Oh my God, I’m sorry Hermione…”

“No no, I was caught up in the moment, I swear I didn’t mean to…”

“Me neither, phew. Good thing we stopped, huh?” said Harry, his heart still racing. He had
almost kissed Hermione, the realization hitting him with an outstanding force. More accurately, his
temporary lapse of instinct over logic had almost caused him to ruin his friendship with his best
friend.

“Yes,” Hermione responded, gasping for air. “That would have been bad.”

Harry laughed half-heartedly, trying to make light of the situation. “Well, I guess it’s my
shift officially now. I’m just going to…err….go grab my wand from the tent, yeah. I’m going to go
do that now.”

“Yes, that would be a good idea,” said Hermione hastily, avoiding looking at him.

“Ok, I’ll do that then.” She heard the tent entrance flap open swiftly and a little bit of a
tumble as he tripped into the lodging. “Sorry! I’m alright, I promise.”

Hermione stood up and paced around. She was going insane. She had almost kissed Harry, her best
friend. Her very *platonic* best friend who just so happened to fit every criteria she ever
looked for in a man. Taking deep breaths to slow her heartbeat, she closed her eyes. *“Hermione
Granger, you will NOT fall for Harry Potter. He is not yours, he belongs with somebody else. Who
that is, you don’t know, but it is definitely not you despite how perfect he is...no, stop thinking
like that. YOU WILL NOT FALL IN LOVE WITH HARRY POTTER!”* she hummed to herself, trying to
banish the moment they had just shared out of her brain.

Hoping that Harry had not witnessed her temporary insanity, she opened her eyes. In front of her
was the drawing she had made before, the bride still holding on to the hand of the question mark
groom. She kneeled down and smiled. Reaching out with her right index finger, she slowly drew a
lightning-shaped mark above his head. *“Someday, I’ll find my own Harry.*”

She stood up smiling and took out her wand, burning the image in front of her into her mind.
“But,” she said audibly to nobody except herself, “It will most definitely NOT be *the* Harry
Potter.” With one swift stroke and a small incantation, the ground where the drawing had been
melted away. Making sure not to come into any sort of contact with Harry on the way, she made her
way inside the tent, looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep.



6. The Dive
-----------

**Chapter 6: The Dive**

Harry was shaking, but this time it wasn’t because of the weather. For once he was thankful that
he had guardian duty. He had been on watch duty for a good four hours now, but truth be told there
wasn’t much watching going on out of Harry’s eyes. The brisk morning air was colder than ever, but
Harry felt as if he was surrounded by fires. A part of his fatigued body attempted to close his
eyes, but there were too many thoughts swirling around his brain that the notion of sleep was
ridiculous. It would be surprising, Harry thought, if he ever closed his eyes again, for every time
his eyes closed and every tiny second that his mind was allowed to wander, he relived the moment
which had occurred mere hours ago:

The moment he had almost kissed Hermione Granger.

Harry loosened the scarf around his neck in an attempt to fill his lungs with cold, fresh air.
He had no idea what had happened. One moment, he was attempting to cheer Hermione up by reassuring
her that somewhere in the world there was a perfect man for her, and then suddenly she was laughing
her head off and wrapping her arms around him. There was something about her laugh that just made
him stop thinking. He was lost in the sound of her jubilation. Perhaps it was the sudden shift in
mood from full-hearted depression to what sounded like sincere joy, perhaps it was an internal
pride at being the one to bring her back to her normal self, or perhaps it was the look in her
eyes. Harry remembered staring into Hermione’s brown orbs, seeing into the depths of not only her
soul, but also his own.

*“It was definitely those damn eyes…”*

If he had just turned away, or broken their hug, this all wouldn’t have happened. Then he would
be able to think clearly, and then if Voldemort attacked them, he would be able to defend them.
Nevertheless, he had been too stupid to react as he should have. It was those damn eyes of hers. He
had known Hermione for nearly seven years, and there had not been a day since when she had not
appeared in his mind in one shape or form. Yet somehow he had never noticed her eyes before. They
were driving him crazy! They haunted him now. Hermione was his best friend, and he had never
thought about her in anyway other than that ever. He had not allowed himself to. Hermione was
off-limits to the parts of his mind that constantly thought about Ginny. She was a girl who was not
a girl. She was…*Hermione*. She did *not* have eyes that you could fall into and lose
yourself in. Yet somehow, he had.

Harry shivered again, his body burning as the moment replayed itself in his mind. This was all
her fault. If she hadn’t of hugged him, then their eyes would never have met, then he would not be
thinking about them right now. *“Stupid Hermione,”* Harry thought, *“Stupid Hermione with
her stupid thoughts about the future and her stupid hugs and her big, beautiful stupid eyes which
made me act stupid and almost commit the stupidest act that I could have done in my entire
life.”* Harry reassured himself for the millionth time that he was not to blame for almost
kissing her, choosing not to try and explain why he had gripped her closer and started to move his
wanting lips closer to hers…

*“No, forget the eyes. It was definitely those damn lips…”*

Harry tried to force the image out of his head. Were Hermione’s lips always so alluring? That
night they had seemed so warm and inviting, tempting even. He was convinced that somewhere in the
Granger bloodline was a Veela or two, for no human woman could possess lips that could make a man’s
senses fly out the window like Hermione’s had done to him. It was as if they were beckoning him,
taunting him to claim them as his own. And he had almost fallen for it. The realization struck him
again.

*“You almost kissed your best friend, you git!”*

He rubbed his forehead at the thought, squinting his eyes tightly. What would have happened if
his watch had not rung? Obviously, they would have kissed. But then what? Harry played the scenario
over and over in his head. The most probable situation would be that Hermione would have stopped
mid-kiss and jinxed him back to the last century. If that didn’t happened, he would have had to
memory charm the both of them just to save himself the embarrassment. It’s not that it would have
been so horrible to kiss Hermione. He was sure she had researched enough about kissing techniques
and such to have a thorough grasp of the maneuver. She was Hermione, after all. That or she had
significant practice with Viktor Krum during the brief time that they were together, but that
thought made Harry more sick than imagining if he had done the deed himself. It had taken him an
extra year, but finally he realized why Ron had gotten so upset at the thought of her and Viktor
snogging. However, all these thoughts were nothing compared to the horrors which would have
resulted if the *other* outcome would have occurred.

What if he had kissed Hermione and she had kissed *him* back?

Now that was a scary thought. Harry had never in his seven year relationship with Hermione ever
considered her to be anything more than a friend. Sure, it seemed as if every single person around
them had noticed something going on between them (Viktor, Cho, half the population of the wizarding
world thanks to Rita Skeeter…), but they both had brushed off the idea. It was a ridiculous
accusation. To say that Hermione and him were ever going to get together was like mixing oil and
water. It would never happen, no matter how hard the world threw them at each other. Hermione was
just a friend. A friend with facial features which made him forget the long list of reasons he had
just created. She was just a friend with an amazing body…

*“What am I talking about?! What does her body have anything to do with this?!”*

Harry was going crazy. The sun was now clearly rising, the sunlight highlighting the confliction
in his face. In an attempt to stifle his confusion, he picked up a handful of snow and crushed it
into his face, the coolness seeming to melt away as steam as soon as it made contact with his
burning skin. He was in the middle of a war to vanquish evil once and for all, and he was going to
fail because of his closest ally. He had never both hated and loved her so much at the same time
before.

Harry’s head hurt. Girls were too complicated.

He heard the tent flap open behind him and the distinct sound of a zipper climbing up a winter
coat. Harry closed his eyes and prayed that the noise had just been the wind, that the inevitable
first confrontation between him and Hermione would be postponed for another moment in time.

Then again, Harry Potter had never been lucky when it came to prayer.

“HERmioNE,” Harry managed to squeak out, keeping his eyes closed. “You’re up early.”

He heard her inhale a deep breath, and then there was a moment where the only thing that could
be heard was the wind blowing across their bundles of clothing.
“ImgoinginsearchforsomefoodforbreakfastIllbebacksoonokseeyou,” sputtered Hermione in one breath as
she sprinted past Harry. By the time Harry’s mind had interpreted the sentence, Hermione’s form was
disappearing into the nearby forest, the only evidence that she had been there at all being the
trail of boot-shaped imprints which she had left in the wake of her escape.

*“Well if that wasn’t a sign that things are weird…”*

Harry frowned. This was the spooning incident all over again. Only this time, he couldn’t blame
his actions on a natural urge to empty his bladder.

************************************************************************

Hermione turned again, flipping the pillow she was lying down on over in an attempt to get
comfortable. She had thought that sleep would come easily to her as it would provide her a chance
to forget what had happened, but that would have been too easy. She couldn’t stop herself from
thinking about how she had almost kissed Harry. She groaned as she tossed once again under the
sheets.

It wasn’t that she wanted to ignore the fact that they had almost kissed. All that did was leave
an uncomfortable air of silence around them, and they seemed to be going through a lot of that
lately anyway. One of them would eventually be able to blame the whole fiasco on something or
another and they would be able to move on with their lives, adding the situation to their funny
list of stories that neither would ever laugh at. No, what Hermione *did* want to forget was
the notion which was pulling at the back of her brain, preventing her from falling asleep:

She had *wanted* it to happen.

Hermione opened her eyes and shook her head violently in an attempt to empty her mind. Whenever
she had accidentally let her mind wander, it instantly returned to the moment where there lips had
almost met. Her heart did back flips, and the butterflies in her stomach scurried so fast it seemed
as if they would burst out of her at any moment. It was as if her whole body was cheering him on,
*wanting* him to take their relationship to the next level. *“But WHY?”* Hermione asked
herself as she sat up in bed. She sighed angrily. This was driving her insane.

It made no sense. No matter which route of logic she tried to reason their behavior with, the
path always led her nowhere. There was no way that he and she would ever want to be together. It
was too weird. *“Otters do not mate with stags,”* Hermione said to herself, *“despite how
seductive the otter found the stag.”* Hermione shook her head again. When had she started to
think like that? It was another unsolved mystery. Every time her mind tried to convince her that
she did not fancy Harry, the more her heart questioned whether or not she truly did. *“But I
can’t!”* she contemplated. They had spent so many years denying the fact that they had feelings
between them that they had long passed the opportunity to turn their relationship into something
more. You don’t just wake up one day and it dawns on you that you and your best friend are perfect
for one another. That happened only in books. This was reality.

Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to get some fresh air and attempt to clear her
mind. Slipping her boots on and grabbing her thick coat, she made her way to the entrance of the
tent (she did not need to change. She hadn’t even bothered to put on her pajamas in her burning
desire to get to sleep). It wasn’t until she had a hand on the cold canvas that she heard the sound
of snow being crushed, followed closely by a muffled grunt. Her shoulders slackened. She had
totally forgotten that Harry was on watch. This had been an unexpected road block, but she couldn’t
back out now. A few seconds of awkward conversation were much better than returning to
the…*unfriendly* thoughts which waited for her under the sheets.

With a gulp, Hermione lifted the entrance flap and took a cautionary step outside. The sun had
just risen, and the winter breeze stung her eyes. Thankfully, Harry had his back turned to her.
*“Good, maybe he’s fallen asleep and hasn’t noticed…*”

“HERmioNE,” Hermione heard the slumped form of Harry utter with a cracked voice. “You’re up
early.”

She took a breath as if to speak, but no words came out. How do you greet someone who you were
about to snog a few hours ago? “ImgoinginsearchforsomefoodforbreakfastIllbebacksoonokseeyou,” she
said, running as fast as she could into the nearby forest, not stopping to see if Harry had reacted
to her eloquent speaking. *“Very smooth, Hermione,”* she thought as she slapped herself on the
forehead. She had no idea where she was going, but now she couldn’t go back to the tent without
food unless she wanted her cover blown. Sighing, she started her search for some sort of edible
substance for them to consume for their morning meal, the thoughts of the previous nights, at least
temporarily, being pushed to the back of her mind.

************************************************************************

Harry switched his crossed legs as he sipped on his morning tea. After a long draught, he paused
to take a look at his watch. *“She’s been gone for over an hour…”* said Harry, putting down
his tea cup. He squinted and tried to peer into the forest for any sign of her. Although he knew
that Hermione was more than capable to defend herself, he was still worried. She had forgotten to
take the invisibility cloak as they usually did when they went out to scavenge, and there had been
several times where he had to stop himself from chasing after her footsteps to make sure she was
ok. He checked his watch again. It hadn’t even moved a minute, but it had felt like an eternity to
Harry.

His muscles aching from hours of inactivity, Harry stood up and stretched. He was overreacting.
*“Calm down Harry, she’ll be back any minute.”* It seemed only minutes ago that he was
thankful that she was distancing herself from him, gracious of the fact that they could prolong
talking about their almost-kiss. However, as soon as those thoughts passed from his head he was
taken over by fear. She left in such a hurry, did she know where she was going? What if the Death
Eaters had found her? How would he ever know that she was in trouble? It made him sick to think
about it, although what made this day different than the other days he had let her wander alone
into mysterious woods in search for food was beyond him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a gleaming light shining from the forest edge. Harry smiled as
he let out a deep breath. She was safe. The source of light moved toward the tent, increasing in
size by the second.

“Hermione, thank Merlin! I was worried!” Harry sheepishly yelled in the direction of the
light.

But whatever it was didn’t respond to his call. The smile slipped off Harry’s face. This wasn’t
Hermione, this was something else. At first Harry had thought it was the small light that could be
summoned to the tip of a wand, but this light was much too large for it to be a simple *lumos*
spell. He rubbed his eyes, for surely this was his fatigued mind playing tricks on him. When his
eyes opened, whatever it was was still approaching him. Harry drew his wand defensively as the
light bounced closer and closer. There was something odd. The light seemed to be *silver*.

Harry lowered his wand. It was a patronus. The luminescent animal came to a stop close enough to
him that if he had reached out his hand he could touch it, had the being had any physical features
for him to come into contact with. It was a beautiful doe, a mirror image of the stag which Harry
had summoned many times before. He knew that he should be more suspect about magical beings which
came out of nowhere and approached him, but something about the doe told his gut that it did not
mean him harm.

“Who do you belong to?” asked Harry, still gaping at the ethereal animal who was attempting to
nuzzle his hand.

The doe lifted her head and stared at Harry, not giving any sign of an answer to his question.
She gently tilted her head toward the forest, as if beckoning him to follow. Then, slowly and with
an air of grace, she began to walk back to where she came from.

“Wait! Don’t go!” Harry called to it as she continued to step away from him. Common sense told
him to stay, but instinct and a thirst for knowledge overpowered his logic. He knew this could all
be a trap, a clever ruse to make him vulnerable, but he also felt that a god-sent opportunity was
slipping away silently amongst the trees. Muttering a few extra protective charms and sealing the
tent, Harry chased after the patronus, the last few rays of glinting silver striping through the
forest wall. By the time Harry caught up to it they were several yards into the thick vegetation.
Despite it being morning, barely any sunlight shone through the dense canopy, the only light
shining from the magical guide in front of him.

“*Lumos!*” Harry shouted as his wand tip ignited with light. Side by side, Harry and the
doe traveled deeper into the belly of the forest. This all seemed so surreal. The further the
patronus took Harry from the tent, the less sound came from around them. It was as if they were
traveling into a world of dreams, mysterious visions which only revealed themselves inch by inch.
However, Harry knew in his heart that the doe would not lead him into danger. As long as it was by
his side, he was safe.

Suddenly, the forest ended in a shower of sunlight. They stopped right at the edge of the woods,
the animal turning her head to glance at her human companion. She tilted her nose back and forth,
telling Harry wordlessly to continue on into the wide open.

“But what about you?” asked Harry, fearing the worst.

In response, the doe turned around and galloped back into the darkness of the forest. Harry
called out in hopes of stopping it, but before he could reach her she had disappeared into the
air.

Fear engulfed Harry’s heart. He had been too gullible. The mysterious patronus had led him far
from the tent, through a path Harry had no way of retracing, and now he was alone. Instinctively,
Harry readied his wand. At any moment, dozens of Death Eaters would swarm him and take him right to
the Dark Lord’s grasp. Knowing that there was nowhere left to go but forward, Harry took a step
into the light.

To his surprise, he was not ambushed by a flash of curses and jinxes. As a matter of fact, the
field he had stepped into seemed untouched by human hands, mounds of grassy snow surrounding a
small pool of frozen water no bigger than a human body. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, but kept
his wand out and his senses ready. He cautiously walked around the perimeter of the opening, as if
something were to appear suddenly out of thin air. It was a few minutes before Harry saw an oddity
in the center pool. On one side of the ditch, unlike the icy blue of the rest of the area, there
was a moving section that gleamed black in the sun.

Harry moved closer to investigate. Cautiously, he peeked into the forest puddle. What he saw
made his jaw drop.

There at the bottom of the pool, reflecting small glimpses of sunlight into Harry’s glasses, was
the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

************************************************************************

Hermione swore as she sucked on her thumb. As she was picking some berries off the bush in front
of her, she had accidentally pricked her finger on a thorn which had been hidden from the light of
her wand. She picked up the fruit she had dropped and placed them into her jacket pocket along with
the handful of mushrooms she had found a couple minutes prior.

Despite it being the middle of winter, Hermione had removed her scarf and hat and had strung
them through a hoop on her pants. It seemed as if the outside world did not exist inside this
forest, not even the slightest hint of sunlight penetrating the dense tree limbs above her. She had
placed a tracking charm on a few landmarks along her way to insure that she could find her way back
to the tent fine, a feat which would have been impossible without the aid of magic. If it wasn’t
for the light coming from the tip of her wand, she would have wandered throughout the forest
forever, for there was nothing but darkness beyond the halo of brightness surrounding her.

Standing up and brushing the dust off her clothing, Hermione began her journey back to the tent.
The walk had done her good. She had been able to control her emotions, managing to falsify a face
of nonchalance after several minutes of practice. Any romantic feelings she had harbored for Harry
temporarily had been reasoned down, and she was confident that when she had to come into contact
with him she would be able to treat him as if nothing had happened. Nothing *had* happened
anyway, so there was no reason to act anything other than normal.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione was surprised to find herself tumbling towards the ground,
landing with a resounding *thud!*. She looked behind her and noticed that she had tripped over
a tree root that she had failed to step over. During the fall, the contents of her pockets had
freed themselves and scattered onto the ground, her wand laying several yards in front of her
hidden in the grass. For what seemed like the hundredth time today, Harry had managed to make
Hermione lose control of her basic motor skills.

*“This boy is going to be the death of me…”*

When their lunch had once again found comfort inside of Hermione’s jacket, she reached to grab
her illuminated wand. However, as soon as she had grabbed it, she saw another light approaching far
away in the distance. “*Nox!*” she whispered, the light quickly disappearing around her,
leaving her alone in the darkness of the trees. Hermione pressed herself against the trunk of a
nearby tree, trying not to make a sound as the aura of light came closer into view. From her
position, Hermione could tell that it was not the orange glow of a lamp, but rather a silvery light
that she had come to associate with magic. It was only a few hundred feet from her now, and she
could distinctly see that it was a patronus in the form of a large doe. But it wasn’t alone.

“Harry?” Hermione whispered, clutching the tree tighter. What was he doing away from the tent,
and why was he following an untrustworthy patronus? Maybe he knew something that she didn’t, but it
was more than likely that he had been tricked into a trap. They had almost reached rock bottom in
the search for the Horcruxes, and she admitted that anyone could be manipulated in such a state of
despair. He did tend to act on instinct rather than think a plan through, anyway. Scared that Harry
might get himself into danger, she decided to trail after him.

She followed him and his companion for what seemed like miles of huge trees and thorny bushes,
oftentimes having to stop and hide so that he wouldn’t notice her. It was unusually silent in the
forest, so every cracked twig and rustle of fallen leaves could be enough to reveal her sleuthing.
But Harry never seemed to turn around, completely enthralled in the light of the doe. It seemed to
Hermione like Harry wasn’t scared one bit about where he was heading to, almost as if the patronus
was a trusted guardian. Hermione, however, wasn’t as accepting of the intruders unknown
intentions.

Suddenly, Harry and the doe stopped at a clearing in the trees, causing Hermione to crouch
behind the nearest bush. Her heart beat faster, fearing that one of them had noticed her presence.
She peered over the bush just in time to see the animal heading towards her position. Defensively,
Hermione pulled out her wand and waited for the inevitable. Harry seemed to be trying to stop the
doe from its forward progress, but it ignored his pleas. It was now a few feet from her, its light
eliminating the shadows in the shrubs around her. In her mind, Hermione prepared a defensive spell,
prepping for the fight that was sure to come. However, right before Hermione sprung up to protect
herself, the doe vanished into thin air. Releasing her held breath, she looked over the bush to
check on Harry.

He had disappeared from her sight, and she quickly approached the clearing to get a better view.
Hiding behind a gigantic pine tree, she peered around the side, where she could see the entire
snow-covered field. Harry was slowly circling the opening, as if expecting an enemy to apparate
into view at any moment. Hermione couldn’t help but feel a little bit of pride towards her best
friend; He was doing exactly what she would have done in the situation. She debated the thought of
revealing herself to him, but she decided against it. If they were going to get ambushed, it would
be better for her to remain hidden so they would have an advantage against the enemy. Also,
Hermione was sure that Harry would shoot a wave of curses at anything that jumped out at him, and
she wasn’t in the mood to die at the hand of an ally today.

Hermione noticed Harry now moving towards the center of the field. She had not seen it before,
but clearly there was a pool of iced-over water surrounded by a mound of grass, however she could
not see into it from her current position. Harry slowly approached the water. Hermione stifled a
scream when he peeked over the edge and jumped back suddenly. What had he seen? He quickly
recovered himself and peered into the water again, this time bringing his lit wand to the surface
as if to get a better view at whatever was at the bottom.

There was nothing Hermione wanted to know more at the moment then what Harry was seeing. She had
never been good with mysteries, and it killed her to remain stationary when something so surprising
to Harry was only a few yards away from her. *“You need to stay still for his protection, just in
case…”* she reminded herself, biting her lower lip. Harry was now pacing around the pool,
alternating between scratching his head and peering into the depths of the water. He seemed to be
having an argument with himself. After several moments, he stopped at the side of the ditch where
the water seemed to be flowing freely. Hermione held her breath, hoping that Harry wouldn’t do
something to endanger his life. He stood still and took a deep breath, his body language showing
that he had painstakingly come to a decision. Then he did something that Hermione had not
expected:

He started to take off his clothes.

Hermione’s jaw almost hit the floor as she instinctively turned away, her vision completely
blocked by the trunk of the tree. Of all the things Harry could have done, taking a swim in the
frigid conditions was definitely the last thing she had expected. The mysterious patronus may not
have killed him directly, but he would surely freeze to death if he attempted to retrieve whatever
was at the bottom of the pool. She had to stop this. With a breath of determination, she quickly
side-stepped into view.

The scene in front of her made her stop mid-motion. Harry had removed his jacket and sweaters,
and his shirt had just hit the floor when Hermione had regained her vision of the field. He was now
standing in the opening only in his pants and boots. Hermione gawked. Never before had she seen
anything more…she couldn’t even complete the thought. She couldn’t stop staring at her half-naked
best friend. Years of quidditch and magical training had certainly done wonders for his once thin
and frail physique. Hermione could tell that she was blushing furiously, her mind remanding her for
not turning away, but her eyes remained glued on his chest and muscles.

*“Wow…”*

Harry shivered before bending down to remove his shoes. This snapped Hermione back into her
senses. She had to stop Harry from committing suicide, that’s the entire reason she had followed
him in the first place. Trying to shake the image of him topless out of her head, she took a
defiant step forward. She tried to call out to him, but the words were trapped in her throat as she
lost control of her motions once again. Harry had just removed his pants, and he was now standing
in front of her in only his underwear. Hermione commanded her head to turn, but instead she just
covered her mouth. Here he was, the famous Harry Potter, her best friend, standing nearly starkers
in front of her, and instead of turning away she was staring. It was as if a part of her, a part
with much more influence than her common sense, wanted to look at him. To be honest, Hermione
thought, she could be looking at much worse things that her practically naked best friend.

Harry sat down in the snow, dipping his legs into the pool. A wince of pain covered his face as
all feeling below his waist disappeared from his body. Hermione pinched herself, trying to break
the hypnotic gaze that Harry’s body had trapped her in. *“He’s about to die!”* Hermione
screamed to herself, the sudden realization enough to regain movement in her legs. She ran after
him, stopping a few feet before she reached him, his head turned away from her position and his
arms showing signs that he was ready to completely submerge himself in the icy depths. She sighed
silently. Things were about to get quite awkward.

************************************************************************

Harry suppressed a scream of agony as he buried his legs in the water, the cold slicing into him
like thousands of tiny knives. He bit his lip, trying to calm himself. This was the only way that
he could retrieve the sword, and he knew more than anybody that the artifact was essential in his
quest to destroy Voldemort. Taking a deep breath, Harry realized that if he didn’t finish the task
quickly he would never recover from the death-like chill of the frigid water. Slowly, he pushed on
his arms and started to slide into the pool.

*Hem hem!*

The noise made Harry shoot out of the water and fall back first into a bed of snow. The cough
had sounded almost identical to the cough of Dolores Umbridge, and he turned his eyes quickly
toward the new guest in the clearing. His heart dropped from his chest. He wished that it had been
Umbridge.

Somehow, Hermione had appeared behind him, glaring down at him with a look mixed with both
concern and anger.

“Hermione!” Harry managed to say, attempting to cover his body with his hands. “What are
you…”

“You better have a bloody good reason why you are practically naked in a snowy field in the
middle of winter, about to willingly dive into a frozen pool of water which you will surely die
in!” Hermione practically screamed at him, pointing her wand accusingly. She seemed to show no
physical sign that Harry was standing in only his underwear in front of her, but he was blushing
furiously enough for the both of them.

All he could do was point a shivering finger into the pool. Hermione angrily peered over the
edge into the dark pool, and her face immediately softened. She looked between Harry and the water
in disbelief.

“Is that…Gryfindor’s sword?” she asked, getting on her knees to take a closer look at the
gleaming object at the bottom of the pool.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Harry as he joined her side, “that’s why I was going in there. We need
it, Hermione.”

“I know we do, Harry,” said Hermione, complete understanding in her voice, “have you tried
summoning it?”

“Yeah,” responded Harry. “Nothing. It’s almost as if I need to prove my worth in order to
retrieve it.”

Hermione nodded, as if she was mulling over the facts in her head. “Well, I think you’re right,”
she said after a moment, turning her head to look at Harry. She quickly turned her head as soon as
she made eye contact with Harry’s body. “But why the bloody hell would you do it *naked*?”

Harry blushed at Hermione’s choice of words. He had removed his clothes so that on his journey
back he would have some way to warm his body. Not knowing the hot-air charm like Hermione and
Dumbledore did, Harry had determined that the trip back in damp clothing was more likely to kill
him than the minute or so he would be submerged in the pool. But now that Hermione was here, he
could do the dive with all his clothes on. Quickly, he redressed, thankful that Hermione kept her
face turned as he slid his clothes back onto his freezing body.

After a moment, Hermione stood up as Harry returned to the pool, standing beside her. Despite
his previous determination, the few seconds in the water that Harry had experienced seemed to hurt
his confidence more than help it. Retrieving the sword was not going to be an enjoyable experience.
Every part of his body begged him not to do it, but he knew that the action was necessary.

“Are you ready?” asked Hermione, failing to disguise the fear in her voice.

“Better now than later,” Harry said, trying to calm his breathing. He felt Hermione’s hand wrap
around his, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Wait, here,” he said, reaching into the top of his layers of clothing. His hand returned from
the depths of his sweaters with a silver locket, which he quickly handed to Hermione. “This does
odd things, the last thing I want is for it to react when it realizes I’m in possession of an
object which will eventually destroy it.” Hermione nodded in agreement as she grasped the Horcrux
in her free hand.

Harry took one final deep breath, letting go of Hermione’s hand. In one quick motion, he dove
into the pool, the only evidence remaining of his existence being the ripples which slowly floated
towards the edges of the water. Hermione crossed her fingers and held her breath, frozen in fear.
For every second that passed, the thought that Harry might never return to the surface became more
plausible. Hermione stood helpless, praying that he would be alright.

*“Come on Harry, the world needs you…*I *need you…”*

Time froze in Hermione’s eyes. He had been down there an eternity. She could see it in her
mind’s eye, the image of her dragging Harry’s cold, lifeless body out of the pool becoming more
life-like with every passing moment. Somehow, she suppressed the urge to dive in after him, hanging
on to the hope that he would come out ok.

Bubbles floated to the surface of the water, and Hermione fell to her knees in anticipation. She
was sure that Harry was drowning.

“HARRY! HARRY!” she screamed as loud as she could, hoping that her words would penetrate the
depths of the pool. The darkness of the water prevented her from seeing any part of his body.

A second later, there was a significant lurch in the water as Harry appeared, clutching the
sword in his arms, shaking uncontrollably. With strength she did not know she possessed, Hermione
managed to pull Harry completely out of the water, resting his head across her knees. Her wand went
flying through the air, every warming charm she knew escaping her mouth in attempt to recolor
Harry’s blue face. He was still breathing, but only enough to keep himself alive.

“Come on Harry,” she muttered, abandoning magic and instead rubbing his body with her hands in
an attempt to warm him up.

It was several minutes before Harry had regained the strength to speak. “Hermione,” he said,
looking up into his best friend’s tear-streaked face, “Nothing to worry about, it was just a
swim.”

Hermione burst into tears of joy as she smothered Harry’s forehead with kisses. Harry smiled
back at her, taking a moment to rest in Hermione’s arms. After Hermione had finished her assault,
she assisted him to his feet, brushing the snow off of his back and her pants. They had finally
made progress. With the sword now in their possession, they could finally destroy the locket and
any other Horcrux they managed to find.

“Now, let’s get rid of that Horcrux, shall we?” Harry asked, smiling at Hermione.

She nodded in agreement, reaching into her pocket to retrieve the necklace. She frowned at the
realization that her pocket was empty.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked, looking at Hermione with genuine concern.

Hermione retraced her steps. She had never put the locket in her pocket, she had been holding
onto it when Harry had jumped into the pool. She sighed in relief when she found it lying in the
snow, inches away from the tip of the sword. Looking at the two objects closer, she beckoned Harry
over.

“Look Harry, the locket…”

Harry turned his gaze away from Hermione and on to the Horcrux. Only then had he noticed that
the object which had before remained eternally locked was now wide-open in front of them. Harry
turned to Hermione and she shrugged, informing Harry that she didn’t know either why it had finally
decided to open to them. Cautiously, he reached out to grab the locket.

Suddenly, the booming voice of Voldemort filled their ears, drowning out Hermione’s scream. “YOU
WILL NOT TAMPER WITH THE SOUL OF THE DARK LORD!” Harry barely had time to turn when a dark red bolt
shot out of the locket, striking Hermione in the heart. She crumpled over silently.

“HERMI…” Harry attempted to scream, reaching over to grab Hermione. However, he had just gotten
off his knees when an identical force of magic struck him, causing his vision to go black. He
collapsed instantly, his head landing on her body. The image of Hermione lying deathly still filled
his mind before Harry completely succumbed to unconsciousness.



7. Possessions
--------------

**A/N:** Alright, well here is the chapter that may or break me. I know some of you wanted
Ron to never come back, but well…he has. I think it wouldn’t make much sense if he *didn’t*
come back, but trust me he will have a background role. But I have my reasons why he had to come
back, along with…well, I won’t ruin the surprises, but trust me, there will plenty of awkward,
fluffy, and (hopefully) hilarious situations between our hero and heroine. So if you walk away now
because he’s back, I understand. For the rest of you, keep an open mind, and enjoy!

PS: So there is an Elderwand competition, eh? Any suggestions?

**Chapter 7: Possessions**

He tried to the pull down the zipper normally.

Nothing.

*“Alohamora!”*

Nothing.

“Open sesame!”

Nothing.

Ron Weasley grunted as he threw his hands into the air. It was hopeless. It had been hell enough
trying to find the tent through miles of nearly identical English landscape, but he would rather
search another hundred miles than try to break the protective charms Harry and Hermione had put up
around the lodging.

“Perhaps it’s Amrodons? They are known for locking people out of their houses, so I don’t see
why tents would be any different,” said the sixteen-year old blonde standing next to him, her nose
almost touching the tent as she investigated the entrance with a closer look. Ron merely rolled his
eyes, ignoring Luna’s proposal.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a silver cigarette lighter.
Clicking the top of it, a bluish orb of light appeared before him. Luna looked on with interest,
although Ron had shown it to her plenty of times over the past few days. It danced a bit around
their heads before finally merging into Ron’s body, filling him with a warmth which was welcome in
the wintery weather.

An image formed within his head, and suddenly he had the notion to look in the forest. He
pointed his wand into the wall of trees. “The deluminator is telling me that they’re there,” Ron
said, proud that he alone knew the direction to head towards.

“Ah!” said Luna. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“And where would *you* get the idea to go into the forest? They could be anywhere!” said
Ron, placing the instrument back into his pocket, resting his hands on his hips afterward.

“Just a feeling, I guess. That and the footprints,” Luna responded matter-of-factly, skipping
towards the forest, tracing Hermione’s bootprints. Ron stood in his spot with his mouth slightly
agape, not believing that he had overlooked such an obvious lead. He did not move until he heard
Luna call him, muttering something about regretting bringing her along as he tread his own path
through the hills of snow.

His partner was waiting for him at the forest edge, staring into the darkness ahead of them.
“It’s a bit creepy, don’t you think?” she asked with no emotion in her voice.

“Reminds me of the Forbidden Forest,” said Ron, his eyes shifting throughout the darkened
scenery in hopes that there would be some sign of his two friends. “Let’s just hope that Aragog
doesn’t have snowy relatives,” he added as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“What’s an Aragog?” asked Luna, hopeful curiosity gleaming in her eyes. Ron met her look and
turned away, shaking his head. Under different circumstances, he would have laughed. It wasn’t
everyday that Loony Lovegood didn’t know about an obscure magical creature. He was sure that he
sounded to her a lot like she did whenever she went on about Crumple-Horned Snorcacks.

“Let’s just hope you won’t have to find out. We should probably light our wands if we’re going
in there.”

“*Lumos!*” They both cried, the tips of their wands igniting in a burst of white light.

“Ready?” asked Ron, asking himself as much as he was asking the girl beside him. He was a bit
apprehensive about entering the ocean of black in front of him, as prior experience had taught him
that there was rarely anything good waiting inside mysterious forests. However, the warmth from
Dumbledore’s device seemed to increase within, giving him the confidence to move on.

Luna simply smiled in return, taking the first brave steps into the unknown. Side by side, the
two teenagers traversed the mysteries of the silent woods. Several times one of them would jerk
their head suddenly, causing the other to stop and listen for oncoming dangers. On one occasion,
Ron spontaneously shot a *stupefy* behind him, narrowly missing Luna as she crouched to avoid
the streak of red. The curse caused a branch nearby to come crashing down from ten feet above them,
the hoots of an angry owl the only sign that any threat had been there.

“Sorry,” Ron muttered, offering a hand to help Luna back to her feet.

“It’s ok, Ronald,” said Luna, wiping the dead grass from her knees. “I thought you had seen a
Blibbering Humdinger. They like to breed in dark places like this, and daddy says that they aren’t
too keen to being stupefied.”

Ron smiled at his companion as they continued onward, guided only by the lights of their wands
and the feeling in his stomach. *“She might be mental,”* thought Ron, *“but she sure knows
how to lighten up a situation.”*

They continued for several minutes in silence, both prepared for an unexpected attack. Ron
wasn’t sure what he was more afraid of: The prospect of having to fight off a horde Death Eaters or
having to face Harry and Hermione after cowardly abandoning them. As soon as he had apparated away
and he had been relieved the burden of the Horcrux, he regretted his decision. It had been a
mistake. He never wanted to leave them, especially when they needed him most, but a combination of
hunger, frustration, and what he was sure was a negative influence from the shard of Riddle’s soul
caused him to lose it. As much as he wanted to use a time-turner and stop himself from leaving in
such a huff, there was nothing he could do now. It was his own fault, and now he would have to deal
with the consequences. He just hoped that they would forgive him, although he had a chilling
feeling that that option had only a miniscule chance of happening immediately.

It would be painful to let go of his pride and admit to Harry that he had been wrong…that he had
been *weak*. But what Ron feared most was having to confront…

“Hermione.”

“What?!” Ron said, turning around completely and almost tripping at the mention of her name.
Luna had stopped ten feet behind him to examine the trunk of a tree which seemed to have fallen
hundreds of years ago. As Ron walked back to her, he noticed that she was rubbing the surface with
her right hand, her left hand clutching her illuminated wand.

“Look at this scratch,” said Luna, tilting her head slightly.

Ron turned, looking at the spot under her pointing finger. It seemed almost untouched, but he
realized that there was a slightly discolored marking splitting the bark down the middle.

“*Specialis Revelio!*”

The streak flashed brightly for a moment, a lime green arrow spinning where it had once been.
Luna and Ron watched it twirl in the air for a bit before it stopped, pointing back towards the
direction they had come from.

*“Certainly looks like Hermione’s work*,” thought Ron, impressed.

“At least we know we’re on the right track!” said Luna, checking over her shoulder to make sure
they were still alone.

“We were already on the right track! Do you have no trust in me?” questioned Ron, glaring at her
accusingly.

She just turned her head and smiled at him. “Of course I do, with my life!”

They stood there in awkward silence for a minute, Luna watching the arrow spin in circles again
while Ron ran a hand through his hair, blushing. As soon as they managed to revert Hermione’s
tracking charm back to its original state, they started walking through the forest with the help of
Ron’s gift from Dumbledore.

“So,” Ron started, trying to strike a conversation to ease their nerves a bit. He had been
travelling with Luna for a few days now, and he found it increasingly difficult to talk with her
for more than a couple of one-sentence exchanges. This was the first time that he had had to talk
to her alone without the comfort of others being there to pick up if the conversation ever strayed
down an awkward alley, as it usually did whenever Luna brought up one of her father’s made-up
animals. The handful of times Ron had a broad idea he wanted to discuss with her she somehow
managed to bring the chat to an abrupt end, usually in the form of a head nod or a simple “I see.”
Despite this, Ron’s desire to make noise in the otherwise quiet area was more than enough to force
him to try again.

“This is the first time you’ve been away from home alone, huh?”

Luna pondered over the question awhile, tapping her wand against her chin. The motion left a
bright mark on her skin, about the size of a pimple. “I guess so, besides Hogwarts. Daddy had
talked about going on expeditions around the world during summer break, but I never thought the
first time I would be so far away would be without him.” Luna frowned when she finished.

Ron gave her what he hoped was a comforting grin and put an arm around her, tapping her lightly
on the back. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, Luna.”

“Oh I know he will. When they took him away, I could have sworn there was a swarm of Retchulos
around his head. They’ll help him get home safe.”

He fought the urge to scoff at her for ending another one of their talks with the mention an
imaginary animal, choosing instead to nod in agreement for her sake. Apparently it was the right
move, for she quickly squeezed his hand in thanks.

They stopped and Ron closed his eyes, clearing his mind so that all that remained was the
influence of the magical force which had entered him hours ago. He pivoted a bit to his right,
opening his eyes and motioning for Luna to follow him. They jogged along in the new direction,
avoiding overgrown tree roots and crawling under low-hanging branches. Outside their bubble of
illumination was nothing but darkness, nevertheless, they continued to move forward. After a few
hundred yards later, Ron noticed something bright enter swiftly into his peripheral vision.

“*Stupefy!”* Ron screamed, two bolts of red energy shooting towards the intruder.
Apparently, Luna had noticed it too and had reacted accordingly. Their combined spells flew at the
creature, passing through it and dissipating with a hiss on the forest floor.

“It’s a patronus,” said Luna in a dreamy voice, inching past Ron towards the animal. For a
moment Ron thought that it was Harry’s stag, but he realized that this deer did not have
antlers.

“Stay back, Luna!” Ron commanded, his wand ready for it to attack.

“I don’t think it wants to hurt us, Ronald,” Luna called back to him, not bothering to turn at
his words of warning. “Hello there!”

The doe turned her head between the two of them, its hazy eyes blinking as if they had caught it
off-guard rather than the other way around.

“Who do you belong to?” asked Luna in a tone often associated with talking to an old friend,
petting its outline as if the real thing stood in front of her. The patronus did not answer the
question, choosing instead to stare at Ron with great intensity.

He took a deep breath. “How do you know we can trust you? This could be a trap, for all we
know!”

At these words the doe started walking toward Ron, his wand hand beginning to tremble. “Don’t
take another step closer, I…I’ll stun you!” The animal seemed unphased by his empty threat, and
eventually she was face to face with the young man. It lifted its front left paw as if to scratch
him, but its face showed no sign of aggression.

“I think she wants what’s in your pocket, Ronald,” Luna informed him, as she rejoined him.

“This?” said Ron to the doe, taking the deluminator out of his coat. The doe nodded in approval.
Cautiously, Ron clicked the button of the device. He felt a chill as the blue light which had
guided them there in the first place left his body, circling the patronus’s head twice before
shooting off to their left. They followed it with their gaze, seeing that it had stopped yards
away, now only a blue dot in a sea of black.

“Uhhh…thanks,” Ron said, turning to reface their mysterious helper. However, by the time he had
shifted his body the doe had vanished. “Alright, just a bit further apparently.”

“Thank you, stranger patronus!” yelled Luna before following him, her voice echoing several
times off the ancient trees around them. With every step, the light of the deluminator seemed to
grow. Ron noticed that the land beneath their guide was significantly brighter than the rest of the
world around them, and Luna was first to point out that there was snow up ahead.

She was right. When they had finally made it to the glow of the deluminator, they realized that
they had reached a clearing in the middle of the forest. Several hills of virgin snow filled the
field, tiny bits of grass sticking out where the might of winter had not managed to bury them. In
the middle of the field sat a tiny pool of ice, one side with the surface broken to reveal running
water. Ron reached into his pocket and sucked the ball of light back into its container, hoping
that it too hadn’t seduced them into a trap. He glanced quickly at Luna, and she nodded in approval
of their unspoken plan. Gingerly, he stepped into the sunlight, his wand raised. Luna did the same,
instead taking a sharp right turn to investigate the living wall surrounding the area, gazing at
each individual tree as if they were paintings in a museum. The land immediately in front of them
showed no signs that they had been touched. As Ron walked up the small incline in front of him, he
could see that the opposite end told a different story. It seemed as if there had been a struggle
by the open end of the pool. Across the section of land were foot and handprints, sections of the
snow flattened as if bodies had been lying on top of them. Whoever had been there had not bothered
to hide their tracks.

“Luna! Come look at this!” shouted Ron, going on his tip toes to see into the veil of black at
the other end of the clearing. He heard the sound of graceful footsteps approaching, coming to a
short halt behind him.

“It seems as if people have been here,” Luna observed.

“Obviously,” muttered Ron, taking a few steps more until he stood right at the edge of the
water, now able to see the entire field. The closer he came to the ghostly footsteps, the more he
realized that none of the prints were heading back into the forest. Whatever had been here had
never left.

“Ronald,” Luna whispered. He had not noticed her breeze past him, but she was now a few feet
ahead looking behind a couple of bushes. Taking two large steps, he closed the gap between them and
looked over her shoulder. He couldn’t help but gasp at what he saw.

There, lying next to one another, were the still bodies of Harry and Hermione.

“Are they…*dead*?” asked Ron in shock. This was the last thing he had expected to find when
he returned to them. Luna silently knelt down by the two, Ron hoping that she would tell him that
they had just fallen asleep. However, instead of checking for a pulse, Luna did something that made
Ron slap his forehead.

She poked each of them in the stomach a couple times with her wand.

Ron just stood watching with his mouth agape. His two best friends were in front of him dead as
a doorknob and all Luna could do was poke them like they were injured animals? He felt the anger
building inside him, but before he could yell at her the light emitting from her wand turned a dark
shade of green.

“Well,” Luna said calmly. Ron had the feeling that she was almost bored at the whole situation.
His heart, however, was threatening to burst out of his ribcage at any moment. “They seem to be
alive…”

“What do you mean seem to be?! Are you mental? They could have been here for hours! Oh,” he
uttered, dropping to his knees, “what a way for my two best mates to go. As human icicles.”

“Ronald, don’t be ridiculous. They’ll be alright, we just need to get them warm, is all,” Luna
offered, putting her hand out to assist him in getting up like he had done for her hours ago. He
grabbed her hand and lifted himself to his feet. She smiled. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he responded, forcing himself to check his friends’ pulses to put his mind at
ease. They were slow, but they were definitely there. He took off his coat and threw it over
Hermione, knowing that Harry would have done the same thing if he was in his position. At first he
attempted to make loud noises, hoping that they were merely dozing. As expected, though, they
showed no signal that they realized that he had come to rescue them. They continued their
immobility, and after a good ten minutes, Ron decided that it was best to move them to someplace
warm and work from there.

“Luna, can you help me here?” he pleaded as he dragged Harry off the ground and on to his
shoulder. “Ooph, when’d you get so heavy mate…Luna?”

“What do you suppose those are?” Luna asked, pointing to a spot just out of Ron’s view. He
slowly trudged to her position, Harry’s boots dragging along behind him.

“*Bloody hell,*” Ron whispered, *“*they found it…Gryffindor’s sword…”

Luna shot Ron a confused look then returned her gaze to the gleaming metal embedded in the icy
ground. Ron stared at the ruby-encrusted hilt and the long blade which reflected the rays of the
sun. The next thing he saw made him furrow his brow in anger. Sitting inches away from the tip of
the sword was Slytherin’s locket, the artifact which had driven him to cowardice. However,
something was different about it, a change in detail that caught Ron off guard:

The locket was open.

“Stop!” Ron called, grabbing Luna’s hand as she reached to grab the two artifacts. “That locket
is dange…”

His speech was interrupted as two dark red bolts shot from the locket towards their direction.
Not knowing exactly why he was doing what he was doing, Ron dropped Harry in the snow as he dove
towards Luna, tackling her onto the ground as he protected her body with his own. He could feel her
taking hard, quick breaths against his chest as the streaks of scarlet narrowly missed them,
hitting Harry and Hermione’s motionless forms directly in the heart.

“What the bloody hell was *that*?” Ron demanded as he got off of Luna, brushing snow off
him. Not wanting to know what the locket had done to their two classmates, Ron and Luna slowly
backed away from the hill they rested on, abandoning the sword and Horcrux in their attempt to
protect themselves. There was a moment of silent in the field, no element manmade or natural
indicating the reasons why their two hearts were beating so fast.

Suddenly, the silence was broken as Harry and Hermione’s previously limp bodies wretched out a
painful scream, their backs arching and eyes falling into the back of their heads from the
intensity of their sudden introduction back into consciousness. When the horrible sound stopped,
now only heard through echoes which repeated throughout the entire forest, their bodies fell back
to the cold, hard surface of the Earth. However, their chests were pumping as if they were
breathing enough air to last them a life time.

Ron and Luna stood frozen in horror, watching Harry and Hermione come back to the life in a
series of horrible contortions. Harry seemed to be mouthing to them “Help me!”, but no words were
escaping his throat. Their eyes grew smaller in the sockets, their clothes more baggy. It was as if
they were disintegrating from the inside out. Ron looked to Luna for help, but she didn’t meet his
pleading glance. She was staring at the two, her mouth covered by a shaking hand.

Then, as swiftly and unexpectedly as it had started, it stopped. Almost as if someone had cast a
silencing charm on the area, Harry and Hermione dropped to the ground on their hands and knees,
gasping for air. Saying a silent prayer of protection, Ron stepped toward his black-haired friend,
who was the closer of the two.

“Harry…you alright?” he asked, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder.

At first Harry did not acknowledge that Ron was there. There was a minute where Ron gripped his
shoulder as if trying to assist, and it seemed to work. Harry was beginning to regain control of
his breathing, managing to turn his hyperventilation into a series of long, deep breaths.

Ron waited until Harry’s breaths had a considerable space between one another. They were still
kneeling in the snow.

“That you mate?” he asked, a smile appearing across his face.

Harry slowly tilted his head up so that he could look Ron eye to eye. The color drained from
Ron’s face as he realized that Harry’s eyes were not the normal emerald shade he had become
accustomed to, but rather they blazed a blood red.

“Hello there, *mate*,” responded the possessed Harry, his voice sounding a mix of his own
and that of a snake. Before Ron could react, Harry had jumped at his throat, clutching it tightly.
Unable to breathe, Ron tried to wriggle out of his friend’s grasp, his wand dropping to the snow in
the process. The only noise he could make a horrible gurgling sound. Harry got up onto his two
feet, bringing the red-head’s body with him, his feet inches above the ground as Harry brought his
arm into the air with superhuman strength.

“*Stupe...*mmmf!”

Luna tried to stun Ron’s attacker, but her incantation was cut short by a moist, freezing-cold
hand. A second later, she felt the sharp point of a wand jab into her throat, causing her to gasp.
“Oh, Ron brought a friend Harry! Now we can’t let Looney Lovegood go around casting spells! She
might upset the Snorcacks!” laughed Hermione in a serpent-like tone of her own, her eyes tiny
crimson fireballs.

Ron’s face was turning blue, a sharp contrast to the hair on his head. What had happened to
them? This was a fate worse than death, being unconscious pawns in the vile plans of Lord
Voldemort. Although they looked identical, these were not his best friends. As his brain started to
shut down from lack of oxygen, images of Harry and Hermione floated into his head, their laughter
filling his ears. He had abandoned them once, and he wasn’t going to die without proving to them
that he was truly sorry.

With a renewed determination, hanging on the edge of death, Ron desperately reached into his
pocket. Taking the deluminator out, he glared into the face of the man choking him. *“Get out of
my friend, you bastard!”*

Clicking the button, an immense orb of blue magic flew into Harry’s chest, causing him to
stumble backwards and drop his friend. Not even stopping to take a breath, Ron landed on the ground
with a roll, picking up his wand in the process. As he completed the maneuver which sent bits of
snow flying in every direction, he pointed his wand at the girl who was slowly suffocating
Luna.

“*Impedementa!”*

The spell hit the unsuspecting Hermione in the side, causing her to stumble a bit with a hiss.
Luna took the opportunity to dive towards Ron, one hand holding her wand as the other checked to
make sure he was ok.

They both stood up and pointed their wands at Harry and Hermione, who had recovered and were now
standing side by side.

“Who are you and what have you done with my friends?” yelled Ron, holding a protective arm in
front of Luna.

“We should ask who *you* are, Ron Weasley,” said Harry, pure bitterness in his voice. “You
think you would just waltz back here and we’d welcome you back with open arms?”

“WHO ARE YOU?” Ron demanded, ignoring the previous question. The two possessed teenagers were
slowly walking toward them, Hermione’s arm wrapped around Harry’s. Defensively, Ron and Luna
matched their steps but in the opposite direction, attempting to maintain the space between
them.

“Ron, I cried for you,” cooed Hermione, tears coming from the eyes which did not belong to her.
“You broke my heart, Ron Weasley.”

The arm which held his wand dropped. “Hermione, I didn’t…”

“I loved you and you left me! You left me and Harry alone to DIE!” Hermione said, the spite in
her voice tearing Ron’s heart in two.

“We needed you, *mate*” scolded Harry. “You ran home to mummy and daddy so that you could
get three square meals, while she and I suffered through near starvation and endless despair. While
you sat at home having a *ball* with your loved ones, Hermione and I risked our lives to try
and save the world. You’re a coward Ron Weasley. You don’t deserve friends.” Harry licked his lips
wickedly, glancing to his side. “…or *her*.”

Hermione let out an evil chuckle which reminded Ron of Bellatrix Lestrange. She kissed Harry on
the cheek. “Mmm yes, who would want to be with a *cowardly* and *weak* blood traitor like
you, Ron? No one loves you. You will ALWAYS be second best. To your siblings, to your peers…to
*Harry*.”

“What’s wrong Ron? Don’t like hearing the truth? You and your filthy family disgust…”

“*Stupefy!”*

“*Protego!”*

Luna’s curse ricocheted off of Hermione’s summoned bubble of air. “Ronald, don’t listen to them,
they’re not themselves!” she beckoned to Ron as he stood frozen in place, his eyes filling with
tears. Reluctantly, he moved his feet as Luna dragged him backwards, away from the hands of his two
best friends.

“You see, Ron,” shouted Hermione, the serpentine voice louder than ever, “unlike *you,* I
always have Harry’s back! You’re just an expendable sidekick. We don’t *need* or *want*
you! We spent *so* many nights laughing at you when you were gone, glad that you were never
going to come back. So stupid, so *useless*…”

Ron was breaking down, all mental capabilities lost as his two friends shot at his greatest
insecurities. He tripped over a rock, causing Luna to tumble down with him. They inched backwards
now on their backs, Ron’s wand shaking pointlessly in the air. He long lost the ability to defend
himself.

“Listen Ronald,” whispered Luna into his ear. “You may have left them, but you *did* come
back. They are your friends and you know in your heart that if they were themselves they
*would* take you back. You are as important in this grand plan of Harry’s as anyone else. Snap
out of this before it’s too late!”

Ron blinked, his eyes not leaving Luna. She was right. Voldemort knew how to play with people’s
minds, and if he was to fall to this trick then he truly didn’t deserve to be there. For all of
them, he had to be strong. He had to solve this problem.

Harry and Hermione stopped a few feet from their location, wands pointed and arms still entwined
in one another. They were smirking, taking occasional moments to stare into each other’s eyes.

“Now, *traitor*,” said Harry in his demonic voice, “You will pay for your sins!”

Hermione raised her wand and snuggled closer to Harry. He kissed her on the forehead before
turning his head to stare at Ron some more. Ron broke the visual connection and instead turned to
Luna, her nod confirming that she knew what to do.

“Goodbye, *love*,” choked out Hermione, malice in every syllable. “*Avada Ked…*”

“*Expelliarmus!”*

*“Expelliarmus!”*

*“Protego!”*

The roar of flying spells filled the air. Ron’s spell destroyed Harry’s shield charm, allowing
Luna’s to soar past and disarm Hermione before she had the chance to finish her Unforgivable
Curse.

*“Accio wand!”*

Spinning several feet above them, Hermione’s wand suddenly stopped and flew directly into the
outstretched arm of Luna Lovegood. Hermione roared in anger, lunging at the two in an attempt to
reclaim her weapon. Ron grabbed Luna’s hand and together they ran back to their original location
near the open end of the pool, dodging Harry’s bolts of green and red as they attempted to escape.
They barely made it over a set of snow-covered bushes when one of Harry’s spells hit their fragile
barricade, causing it to set on fire.

“Come on Ron, I thought you wanted to prove you weren’t a *baby*,” they heard Harry shout
at them, although they had no idea specifically where he was. “So why don’t you fight me
face-to-face? Best mate to best mate…”

Ron shot up. “You are *not* my best mate, VOLDEMORT!” It was the first time in his life
that he had said the name of the Dark Lord, much less without a shiver, but he was inspired. This
was his chance to prove once and for all that he was not inferior to Harry, that he could be the
hero without his or Hermione’s help.

“Crush the worm, Harry,” gushed Hermione, reattaching herself to her best friend’s arm. “I was
wrong to want to be with you Ron. It’s *always* been Harry.”

“Rejected by your own family. They would *gladly* take me over you. I’m the son they always
wanted, you are *nothing*!” added Harry, his eyes glinting like rubies in his pale face.

“Who would want *you*? You are nothing compared to the *Chosen One*, the *Boy Who
Lived*, the *Famous Harry Potter*. He has the life you want, and now he has the girl you
want. Your deepest fears are coming true, Ronald. Congratulations…”

Hermione’s voice trailed off as she slithered her hands behind Harry’s neck, pulling him into a
passionate kiss. Abandoning his offensive stance, Harry wrapped his hands on her hips and deepened
the kiss.

Ron had expected this moment ever since his attraction to Hermione had manifested into a crush.
He had a feeling in his heart that there was always something going on behind his back between
Harry and her, but neither had mentioned it being anything more than friendship. However, compared
to his throat being crushed by an empowered Harry or dodging wave after wave of killing curses from
their wands, the sight of them didn’t really do anything. He watched slightly bemused as Tom Riddle
did his best to enact what he thought to be Ron’s deepest fear. It almost seemed as if they were
trying to see who could eat the other’s mouth first.

He could hear quiet moans escaping Hermione’s mouth as their kiss intensified. Their hands were
exploring each other’s backs, clutching bits of their clothing in their wanting grasps.

“He’s really putting his parseltongue to good use,” observed Luna, who was now standing beside
him holding her wand in one hand and Hermione’s in the other. They tilted their heads at the same
time, trying to comprehend the situation at hand. It was as if the two had forgotten that they were
trying to kill Ron and Luna and instead were focusing on attacking one another’s lips, with a will
which seemed to overpower Voldemort’s influence.

“Doesn’t it bother you that your girlfriend is snogging your best friend?” asked Luna.
Apparently, they shared Ron’s famous lack of tact.

“To be honest,” he paused as Harry and Hermione parted to take a deep breath, restarting the
kiss when their eyes locked, “I’m more disgusted with the way their doing it then the fact that
they are. How do they produce that much saliva? Merlin, was *that* how I was with
Lavender?”

“I think they look adorable,” said Luna, smiling as she continued to watch them attempt to
suffocate each other with their tongues.

“They might be if they weren’t possessed by an evil sorcerer,” said Ron, realizing that their
eyes were still an unnatural shade of red, albeit less bright than they had been before. They
gawked at the scene in front of them for a moment more, watching on like children in a petting zoo.
“I suppose we should stop this, huh?”

“Yes…” Luna trailed off. Hermione had just managed to toss Harry’s glasses aside, his hands
buried into her bushy hair. “But how do we do that? They seem pretty preoccupied.”

Ron rubbed his chin a bit, and then slapped his forehead. Sometimes he himself couldn’t believe
how dense he was. “Duh! I should have thought of it earlier. *Accio sword!*”

The silver broadsword flew into his outstretched hand, the tip reflecting sunlight into his eye.
Luna eyed him curiously. Ron checked to see if Harry and Hermione had noticed anything, but they
were still encompassed in their snogging session that Ron thought that anything short of Armageddon
would get their attention. Telling Luna to stay back, Ron marched through a stretch of splotched
snow, pieces of it melted from coming into contact with various curses and jinxes. He stopped above
his target, shining in the snow like a lighthouse in a sea of white. Ron raised the sword in the
air, tip-down with two hands on the hilt.

“Burn in hell, Riddle.”

With a swift plunge and a yell resembling a battle cry, Ron drove the blade into the locket. The
sound of metal tearing into metal filled the field, a terrible sound only outdone by the two
screams which followed it. He turned to face his two friends. They had finally disconnected from
one another, but were now lying in heaps next to one another on the snowy grass.

“Luna!” he called, but there was no need. By the time he was checking Harry’s pulse, she was
already at Hermione’s side doing the same for her. He listened close to Harry’s chest, hoping to
hear a heartbeat. Instead, he heard him cough violently, as if he had just spit out water after a
long swim. Ron watched as Harry’s eyes fluttered open, happy that they had returned to their normal
color.

“Ron…RON?” said Harry weakly, his eyes only half-open. “What are…”

Ron laughed and hugged his best friend as if he had not seen him in ages. “It’s good to have you
back man.”

“Hermione…where is Her…”

“Don’t worry, mate. Luna’s taking care of her.”

“Lu…na?”

“I’ll explain later, but first we have to get you guys some warmth and food.”

Not having the strength to argue any further, Harry just nodded and slumped onto Ron’s shoulder.
After somehow managing to get up with Harry’s added weight, Ron helped Luna do the same with
Hermione and together, following Hermione’s tracking charms, they slowly made their way back to the
tent.



8. Escape
---------

**Chapter 8: Escape**

It was several hours before they all managed to shuffle into the tent, the sun long set over the
distant horizon and the moon finding her familiar place in the night sky. Luna and Ron set down
Harry and Hermione at the kitchen table before Ron scurried to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.
Luna conjured flames with her wand into the nearby fireplace before taking a seat across from
Hermione.

It was several long minutes of silence before Ron returned with a steaming kettle and four cups.
He poured them all a glass and gave Harry and Hermione time enough to drink two full servings, the
color slowly returning to their shivering cheeks. They looked as if they had just been pulled out
of freezing waters after hours of swimming, their skin clammy and their breaths uneven.

The tea seemed to work miracles, their eyes eventually being able to open, although no one dared
speak. Harry’s eyes darted between Ron and Luna suspiciously, though Ron noted that he wore what he
hoped was a grateful smile on his face. Hermione, however, just pulled her knees to her freezing
body, resting her chin on them while glaring at him with unmistakable hatred.

“Well, this is a bit awkward,” started Ron, smirking, hoping that his sense of humor would be
the appropriate way to break the ice.

“Yeah, being in this tent, get used to it,” said Harry in an almost inaudible, shaky whisper,
although he did smile back at his best friend. Hermione continued to glare. “Mind giving us an
explanation, now?”

Ron cleared his throat. It was going to be a long night. “Alright, I suppose I owe you guys
one…”

“Damn right you do,” chided Hermione, looking away as Ron prepared to talk.

He ignored the interjection. “Well, to start, if it means anything I wanted to come back the
minute I left.” Ron stopped to wait for their reaction. Hermione had not moved a muscle, but now
Harry had the same insulted look on his face. Obviously, his comment meant nothing to them, but
that wasn’t anything he had not expected.

“Well anyway, I couldn’t go back to the Burrow, seeing as how we’re all wanted criminals and
all…”

“What do you mean by *all*? Why would the Ministry want you guys too?” questioned Harry,
his expression of anger replaced by a look of confusion.

“See for yourself,” Ron replied, reaching into his rucksack and throwing a newspaper onto the
table. On the cover of the *Daily Prophet*, was a full page picture of Harry, with the caption
**Undesirable Number One Still At Large**. “It’s a few days old, but apparently we’ve been
wanted for awhile…check page 3.”

Harry picked up the paper and turned the front page. There, on the right hand side, were several
rows of people’s portraits, each looking from cell to cell with a mixture of bewilderment and fear.
It reminded Harry of a school yearbook, the names of each individual plastered in bold ink under
their headshots. The faces were a blend of young and old, rich and poor, a literal smorgasbord of
wizards and witches alike. On the top of the page, in big bold letters, was the heading **WANTED:
Reward if found**.

His eyes moved from side to side as he tried to identify familiar faces. Sure enough, sitting in
the second column of the third row, was a picture of Ron, the caption under his freckled face
saying: **Listed truant, Attacked Ministry officials, Known accomplice of Undesirable Number One,
(Blood traitor)**. Harry felt his blood boil in anger. Once again, his fame had dragged someone
close to him into the line of danger. He continued to examine the pictures, eventually landing on
one of a bushy-haired girl in the very first box. He looked at Hermione, who had scooted over in
her chair in order to read over his shoulder. “Even on the most-wanted list, you have to be first?”
he asked her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. She shot him the same “Don’t mess with me” look
that she had been giving Ron ever since she had regained consciousness.

“It gets better,” said Ron, taking a sip of his tea. “Read her caption.”

Harry watched as Hermione’s eyes came off of his and went back to the paper. She silently read
the words out loud to herself, her mouth retarding as she approached the end of the text. Looking
absolutely appalled, her jaw remained hanging as she pointed to the text.

Concerned, Harry turned his head to read for himself. **Hermione Granger: Listed truant,
Unregistered Muggleborn, Advisor to Undesirable Number One, Undesirable Number Two**.

“Undesirable number two?!” said Harry incredulously, smashing his fist on to the table and
looking at Ron as if he could answer all his questions.

He just nodded. “My guess is that someone at Hogwarts ratted us out, telling the Ministry about
all your friends and who you ever talked to. It’s not like you guys tried to hide the fact that you
are best mates, anyway. Anyone could connect the dots as soon as both of you never returned to
school.”

“Don’t you mean as soon as the *three* of us didn’t return to school?” said Harry,
beginning to eye Ron suspiciously.

Ron took another sip of tea before answering. “Right, but you don’t see me labeled as an
Undesirable. I figure it’s ‘cause Dad’s been working in the Ministry for so long, they know all
they need to about me and my family. And *technically* none of Thicknesse’s goons can touch
pureblooded families, so I guess they consider me less of a threat. Hermione, on the other
hand…they would have nothing on her, her parents being muggles and all. She’s a mystery to them,
and since they know how close you two are…” they both blushed at his statement, making Ron’s eyes
darts between them curiously, “As I was saying, since they know you two are so close, and seeing as
how neither of you have been seen yet…”

“You were seen?!” Hermione said in an almost-shout, forgetting to say the words in a cold tone.
She caught herself afterward, immediately folding her arms back around her knees tightly and
continuing to murder Ron with evil looks.

“Yeah, like I said, I didn’t want to risk going back to the Burrow with my face in nearly every
wizarding kitchen in England, and with Dad already being tracked by them, I didn’t have much hope
in returning home. So when I dissapparated I went to the town closest to Great-Aunt Muriel’s
house…”

“Why there?” interrupted Luna, seemingly enthralled by something in her fingertips. Harry almost
jumped when she spoke. It was the first time she had talked during the whole conversation. He had
forgotten that she was even in the tent with them.

“Truthfully? No one would look for me there. She really doesn’t have many close friends, and
Merlin knows none of my immediate family would be caught dead there unless it was something
important…*really* important.”

Harry nodded his head. Remembering the horrible conversation he had had with her at Bill and
Fleur’s wedding, a part of Harry told him that not many people would mind if she had disappeared at
the hands of Voldemort’s cronies.

“Anyway, on my way to Aunt Muriel’s house, I stopped at a shop to browse through the latest
*Daily Prophet* to make sure no one we knew had died.” Ron stopped as Harry and Hermione
waited for him to answer the obvious question. “Don’t worry, as far as I know everyone is alright.
But when I got there, there was this scruffy looking mob hanging around the entrance. I tried to
act natural and just ignore them, but one of the bigger ones stopped me. Could swear he was
half-troll, judging by the smell…”

Ron looked at Hermione hopefully. Unfortunately, his ill attempt at humor seemed to make her
angrier.

“Who were they?” asked Harry, attempting to steer the conversation back on track. Under the
table, he grabbed Hermione’s leg, partially to comfort her, partially to prevent her from leaping
across the table and mauling Ron to death.

“Snatchers,” answered Luna for Ron. “They are all over the country. Usually they’re just a bunch
of thugs looking for extra money. The Ministry pays them for capturing and turning in muggle-borns
or blood traitors, especially the ones on their wanted list. Daddy says that the leaders of the
area groups are Death Eaters, though.”

Ron waited for her to mention some sort of odd creature that Voldemort used to manipulate the
Snatchers to do his bidding, but instead she returned to idly looking around the tent as if she had
never spoken at all.

“How’d you escape them?” Harry questioned, now completely enthralled in Ron’s tale.

“They must have noticed that my picture was in the *Prophet*, and they asked me who I was.
I couldn’t just confess right there, so I told them that I was Stanley Shunpike.” Ron told them as
he poured himself another cup of tea.

“And they believed you?” Harry said in disbelief.

“Well, they weren’t exactly the brightest people. They stopped to debate with one another as to
whether or not I was the real Stan, and I took the opportunity to apparate out of there. Must have
done something wrong though, splinched myself.” He held up his right hand across the table. One of
his fingernails was missing. “But that’s beside the point. I ended up in the hills by Ottery St.
Catchpole, close enough to civilization so that I could keep an ear out on everyone’s safety, but
far enough away so that no one could find me. There was this cave in one of the hills where Fred
and George used to hide stuff they didn’t want mum to find, so I camped in there for a few
days.”

“Well, by then I was pretty hard on myself, abandoning you two and all. I kept thinking, ‘If I
can’t find them, is there any way I can help them?’, and on one night while I tried to find a
comfortable position in my sleeping bag, it came to me. We weren’t getting any leads as to the
sword,” he pointed his thumb towards the kitchen counter, where the artifact was resting, “and as
far as Horcruxes were concerned, we only knew of the existence of the cup and the locket. But what
about the last item of the founders? The one belonging to Ravenclaw? We had been so preoccupied
with the items we knew about, we hadn’t bothered to research the ones we *didn’t* know
existed. Like I said, I couldn’t go back to the Burrow or send an owl to Ginny for help, so I did
the only thing I could do: I went to go ask the only Ravenclaw in the area if she knew anything
about it.”

Luna’s head snapped toward Ron at the allusion to her, and she smiled slightly to her three
companions.

“So Ron dragged you into this whole situation?” Hermione asked Luna in a voice a million times
nicer than one she had used when talking to Ron.

“Yes, I guess you could say that,” Luna responded with a nod, smiling.

“Mmm, he does have a nasty tendency to put people into uncomfortable situations, doesn’t he
Harry?” she said snidely. Harry chose to ignore her rather than fuel her angry flames.

Harry looked over to make sure Luna was not looking at him. Sure enough, she was busy playing
with the lemon floating in her tea cup. “That still doesn’t explain why you brought her with you,”
said Harry in a stern whisper.

“I’ll get there, promise,” Ron whispered back before continuing on. “Well, I went to visit the
Lovegood house to have a chat with Luna. You know its winter holidays now, so I knew she would be
there. I knocked on the door and her dad answered, quite the…um…character, Luna’s dad,” he paused
as they heard Luna’s chair shift uncomfortably on the floor, “he told me that she was down at the
stream near Bottom Bridge, fishing for Plump…Blimp…Bluma…”

“Plimpies, they’re two legged little buggers who like to nibble unsuspecting swimmers’ ankles.
The fresh-water ones in the stream are quite delicious,” Luna explained as if she was reading it
directly from some book, a gleam in her eye.

“Err…yeah, what she said. Anyways, I went down there and there she was in the blistering cold,
in a gigantic parka holding a fishing rod. Well, I said hello and she seemed surprised to see
me…”

“Oh, I certainly was. All the other kids at school were talking about how you three were off on
some secret quest, and it made me sad to know that you wouldn’t be returning. So when I saw Ronald
it certainly caught me off-guard. I had just hooked a Plimpy when he strolled by, I was so scared
that I must have stopped pulling and then it got away! Sad really, that was the only one that bit
all day…” she stopped talking suddenly, frowning.

“Oh, if that isn’t likely…” muttered Ron under his breath, which made Harry cover his mouth to
prevent from laughing. “Anyway, I told her that we had taken our assignments with us before we left
Hogwarts, and that I needed help with an essay for Binns’ class about the founders of the school,
and I asked if she knew anything about objects that Rowena Ravenclaw might have cherished. It was a
long shot, but I tried anyway. But surprisingly, she told me about her…”

“Diadem,” Luna cut off Ron’s soliloquy suddenly, her voice unusually serious. Her eyes started
to become glossy as she stared off into space. “The diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. Daddy was making a
replica of it before we left. *‘Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure!’*, he always
told me.” The room was silent for a moment as Luna continued to stare into another world, the
slight shakings of her body barely noticeable. “Oh no, it seems we’re out of tea!” Luna said
awkwardly as the trio stared at her, “I’ll go make another pot!”

Quickly but nonchalantly, Luna reached into the middle of the table and grabbed the kettle,
taking long, quiet steps before disappearing completely into the kitchen.

Ron shook his head and sighed. “I really feel sorry for her, must be terrible…”

“Why? What happened?” Hermione demanded in a half-whisper.

Taking a second look over his shoulder to make sure Luna was not returning, Ron motioned them to
come closer to him so that he did not have to say the next part out loud. “Well, after she told me
about the diadem, I was so happy to find a lead I could work with while waiting to find you guys. I
helped her back to her house…I mean, it was the least I could do after she helped me…*us* out.
A few minutes later and we could see the tower which they lived in, but there was something odd…”
He paused for another nervous check over the shoulder. “There was a gaping hole where the front
door used to be, and there was a lot of yelling coming from inside.”

Hermione covered her mouth as Ron continued, her eyes wide open in shock. “Of course Luna wanted
to go see what was going on, but I had to hold her back. We hid in some trees and waited for
something to happen. We could hear a lot of screams coming from in there, yelling then painful
screams,” he shook his head as a wave of shivers took over his body, “It was horrible.”

“Death Eaters?” said Harry.

“Had to of been at least two of them, I don’t think that the normal Snatchers would have been
able to use the *Cruciatus* Curse so…effectively,” Ron sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Well, by
now Luna was trying her best to wiggle free, but I couldn’t just let her waltz in there to her
death. So I pinned her down and we waited some more. Eventually, a group of Snatchers came out
carrying somebody, two big shouldered guys in masks trailing behind them…think their names were
Selwyn and Travers, if I heard them right. Anyway, the body? It was Luna’s dad, Xenophilius. You
know he’s been writing articles in his newspaper supporting you, right Harry? *The Quibbler*
never left your side, never sold out to the Ministry. That’s probably why they wanted to capture
Xenophilius. He was in pretty bad shape too, all bloody, no movement except random convulsions,”
Ron gulped. “They messed him up bad, guys.”

Harry was glad that Luna was taking her precious time with the tea. It would have been horrible
for her to have to relive the moment when she lost the only parent she had left. “I couldn’t hold
Luna back after that point. She sprinted towards the group, firing curse after curse. Let me tell
you, for such an emotionally damaging situation, she was brilliant, stunned two or three of the
lesser guys before the rest noticed.”

“I chased after her, but by that time there were explosions going on everywhere. We tried our
hardest to take them out, but one of the Death Eaters managed to summon more of his friends. I knew
that the only good we would do was get ourselves captured, so I grabbed her and apparated back to
the cave on the hill. We weren’t hurt or anything, just a couple of scratches, but Luna had lost
it. She didn’t cry or anything like that, but she just sat there staring at the wall, saying
nothing. There wasn’t much I could do, I mean, what do you say to somebody who lost the person they
loved most in the world?”

Harry looked over to Hermione. Her eyes were tearing up, wishing that there was something she
could do to ease Luna of the pain. Harry’s vision was also beginning to get blurry. He knew all too
well what it was like to have your parents taken away from you and being helpless to stop it.

“We didn’t want to risk being caught, since I had been seen twice and now we were in quite a bit
of trouble for attacking Death Eaters. So we continued to hide, neither of us knowing what to
do…”

“But how did you find us? We made it so that we weren’t trackable!” cried Hermione, her hands
looking as if her grip on her knees was going to break her bones.

“That’s the odd thing…you know Dumbledore’s deluminator?” said Ron. They both nodded. “Well, it
does a lot more than just turn out the lights.”

He took out the object and laid it on the table. “One day, I and Luna were talking more about
the diadem, when suddenly we heard…well, *you*.”

“*Me*?” scoffed Hermione, pointing to herself. “How?”

“I didn’t quite know at first, thought I was just imagining things. But Luna said she heard it
tolo, and we both stopped talking and listened again. Then sure enough, a few minutes later we
heard you say my name again…”

“What was I saying?”
Ron shrugged. “Something about being done with something or another…”

Hermione shot a quick glance at Harry. Harry remembered that specific conversation from several
days ago. It was the one where Hermione had declared that she was done wanting Ron to become the
man for her. Harry hoped that Ron hadn’t noticed their quick exchange of knowing looks.

“Like I said, we kept hearing Hermione’s voice saying my name. Finally, I realized that the
noise was coming from my pocket. You were speaking through the deluminator! Obviously we had no
clue what was going on, but I had a hunch that we had to use the thing somehow. So I clicked the
top…”

“And?” beckoned Harry and Hermione.

“Well, I’m not sure if it will work now that I’ve found you guys, but it absorbed the light of
the fire as usual but instead of leaving us in darkness there was this bluish orb of light floating
outside the cave, the kind of light around a portkey, you know? Well, whatever it was, I just knew
that it would take me to you guys. We packed up quickly and went outside, and it just flew inside
me…”

“It did *what*?” asked Harry in disbelief.

“You know…just kind of merged into me, right through the heart. I felt it too, it was nice and
warm, but as soon as it entered I knew where I had to go.”

“But why did you bring Luna? You know that we can’t tell her anything about what we’re doing, it
would just endanger her more! And the more people who know about us, the more likely we are to
fail!” Hermione barked, her voice angrier than ever.

It was Ron’s turn to get angry. “What would you have me do, Hermione? Say ‘Hey, it’s been fun’
and just leave her in that cave?”
“But she’s a student! She would have returned to Hogwarts and been safe…”

“If they catch her she’s going to die!”

Ron’s words hung in the air. Hermione stuttered as she tried to talk, “D…Die?”

“Yes, Hermione. The Ministry is done playing games. The only person they want alive is Harry,
but anyone on their wanted list they will torture into talking and then kill. I’m exempt because of
my bloodline, but anyone else…”

Ron pointed toward the *Prophet* which was still spread across the table. Sure enough,
there too was Luna’s picture. **Luna Lovegood: Listed truant, Attacked Ministry officials,
Daughter of propagandist Xenophilius Lovegood, Known accomplice of Undesirable Number One.**
Right next to her list of crimes, in blood letters, was the word **EXPENDABLE**. Harry choked as
the word floated around his mind, making him sick.

The trio jumped apart from one another as they heard the clinking of spoons on ceramic. A second
later, Luna appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray of fresh tea. She set it gently on to the
table and retook her spot next to Ron. Although no one mentioned it, they all realized that she had
taken an unrealistic amount of time to brew the fresh pot, but everyone knew why she had waited to
enter the room. Feeling as if somebody had to do something after the horrible story he just told,
Ron patted Luna on the back, saying “Thank you,” as he poured her and himself a fresh cup. Harry
quietly closed the newspaper in front of him.

“As I was saying, we apparated to the place the deluminator told us to go and ended up on some
snowy hillside. We followed the hints it was giving to me in my head, and after a day or two we
found you guys…well, at least we found the tent. It must have remembered me or something, because I
could see it just fine, but whatever sealing spell you put on the door sure worked wonders.”

Harry looked swiftly to his side and smiled at Hermione, proud that her charms had worked as
intended. “So when we couldn’t get inside, I clicked it again and it took us through the forest.
Nothing really happened for an hour or so, but that’s when we saw the patronus…”

“A patronus?” questioned Hermione. “It wasn’t…was it a doe?”

Both Luna and Ron nodded. Hermione looked at Harry and he stared back at her.

“We saw it too.”

“Who’s was it? Did you guys know?”

“No, but it can’t have been an enemy, because it brought me to the field with the…” Harry
trailed off. “The Horcrux! What happened to the Horcrux? All I remember was us getting hit by some
weird curse coming from the locket after we got the sword out of the water, then all of sudden you
two were there.”

“Well, whatever the heck it was, it knocked you two out cold. By the time we got to the opening,
you two were unconscious. We thought you guys had been attacked or something, and you were barely
breathing. But then Luna noticed the locket and sword just sitting there. We tried to grab them,
but then these two dark red bolts just came after us. We thought they were gonna go for us, but
instead they flew into you guys. And then…”

Harry’s shoulders slumped at Ron’s choice of dramatic pause. “Then what? It sounds like the same
type of magic that I saw before I passed out…” he demanded.

“Well, after that you guys woke up,” Luna said simply.

“Tha…That’s it? We just woke up and here we are now?” cried Harry in disbelief.

“Well, you woke up but you weren’t *you*, if that makes any sense,” corrected Ron.

“No, it really doesn’t.”

“Alright, well after the locket shot you two you let out this really horrible scream and started
gasping for air. Scariest thing I’ve ever heard. We didn’t know what was going on, so we just
watched helplessly. Then suddenly both of you just stopped and fell to your knees, panting a bit. I
went to go check on you, Harry, since you were closest, and then you just went for my throat…”

“I *attacked* you?”

“Yeah, almost killed me too,” Ron said, lifting his chin up. They could still see the red
streaks where Harry’s fingers had tightened around his throat. “We knew something was wrong, both
of you had these dark red slits where your eyes used to be. All four of us got into a bit of a
row…”

“Was anybody hurt?” asked Hermione, her anger temporarily replaced with curiosity.

“Well, you almost *Avada Kedavra*’d me, but thankfully Luna was able to disarm you after
Harry protected you from my own spell. Must hate me or something, huh Hermione?” Ron smirked, his
voice sarcastic.

She didn’t answer, instead grabbing her wand from Luna’s outstretched hand with a silent nod of
thanks. Quietly, she tucked it into her pants pocket, her expression softened from learning that
she had committed an unforgivable curse on one of her closest friends.

“So you’re saying that the Horcrux tried took control of me and Hermione, and then we tried to
kill you two? Did we say anything?”

The color in Ron’s face disappeared, and he didn’t speak for a minute. “Uh…you guys were
talking, mostly about how I shouldn’t have come back, that I was useless, you know, the expected
things…”

Harry frowned, his heart going out to his friend. “Ron, you know that’s not…”

“It’s ok, really it is. You weren’t yourselves, and besides, I kind of figured that you guys
would say something like that when I came back anyway.”

“But if you hadn’t of come back, we would still be in that field dead from exposure. Or worse,
captured by You-Know-Who. So although you *were* the biggest prat in the universe, you did
save our lives.” Harry smiled, reaching over and patting Ron on the shoulder. Ron smiled back at
his touch, but still refused to meet his gaze. “So how did you end up destroying the Horcrux with
us trying to kill you two?”

Ron choked on the tea he was sipping. His and Luna’s eyes met, and she turned away quickly to
stifle her giggle behind her back. In response, he coughed wildly, hoping that no one would notice
that he was about to burst out in laughter too.

“What, what’s so funny?” asked Hermione, her death glare shifting between the two of them.

“No…Nothing, nothing at all. What was the question again?” asked Ron, the side of his lip
twitching as he attempted to keep a straight face.

“HOW DID YOU DO IT?” screamed Harry and Hermione, obviously annoyed. The joint effort almost
made Ron fall out of his seat.

“Geez! Well…ummm…err…you guys were sno…hmmm…Well, I did what you guys said we were gonna do: I
stabbed the locket with the sword, you guys screamed a bit, and then that was it.” As if needing to
prove himself more, he whipped the broken Horcrux out of his pocket and threw it on top of the copy
of the *Prophet* on the table. “You guys came to a little bit after that, and well…here we
are.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as the story sank into Harry and Hermione’s heads. After
months of almost nothing, a flurry of progress occurred in a single day. He was happy enough to
find the sword, but to have a Horcrux destroyed and another discovered? Harry was so overcome with
joy that he almost jumped the table and hugged Ron in celebration, but for Hermione’s sake he just
patted him on the back again. The only sound that filled the tent over the next few minutes was
Luna’s soft hum of “Weasley is Our King.”

Hermione was the first to stand up, claiming that she wanted to stretch her legs. She
volunteered to clean up the table, loading everyone’s glasses and the kettle onto the black serving
tray in front of them, “accidentally” spilling the half-empty glass of boiling tea that Ron had
been drinking all over his lap before walking with heavy steps to the kitchen.

“Bloody hell,” Ron exclaimed, attempting to dry off his legs, “I guess she’s a bit mad at me,
huh?”

“I would say that’s a safe assumption,” said Harry, following Hermione’s form before she
disappeared into the doorway. “But she’ll get over it, I’m sure. Either way, thank you for
everything Ron. It’s good to have you back.”

Ron smiled and breathed out a sigh of relief, getting out of his chair the same time that Harry
did and grabbing him into a rough embrace. “Don’t mention it, that’s what friends are for, right?
Thank you for not killing me the instant you realized who I was.”

Harry let go of his friend after a minute, reaching his hand out to his other savior. “I suppose
we should be thanking you too, huh Luna?” said Harry shyly with a smile.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Luna replied as she awkwardly took his hand, choosing to just hold it
instead of shaking, “Anything I could do to help. But there is one thing I wanted to ask you guys
about…”

Both Harry and Ron looked back at her with raised eyebrows.

“What’s that?”

“What’s a Horcrux?”

**A/N**: Alright, not a fan of post-chapter notes either, but just to stop the fires before
they occur, this was not the original ending to this chapter. As a matter of fact, to accomplish
all I wanted to, I think I split this original chapter into three parts, but don’t quote me on that
specific number. TY for the reviews once again, and the ratings too! You guys are amazing.



9. The Honest Truth
-------------------

**Chapter 9: The Honest Truth**

“…and that’s why You-Know-Who was able to come back from the dead.”

“So you think that the diadem is a Horcrux?”

“Well, that or we’re on the completely wrong track here.”

“Hmm…Well, it certainly is a clever fail-safe, isn’t it?”

“Maybe for *him*, sure is making our lives awfully difficult…”

“I don’t understand why he didn’t just use an Orugula Potion…”

“A *what*?”

“An Orugula Potion! It’s a rare elixir made from different parts of exotic animals which can
make the imbiber invincible, or so Daddy said. However, no one has ever made one before…”

“Probably couldn’t find enough eye of Loadarubbish…”

“Ooo, what kind of creature is a Loadarubbish, Ronald?”

“The Or-gwala potion, or whatever it was.”

“The Orugula Potion is a Loadarubbish? How does that make any sense?”

“Never mind.”

Luna blinked at Harry and Ron, unable to understand why they were holding themselves back from
being overtaken with wild fits of laughter. Shrugging, she picked up the copy of the *Daily
Prophet* from the table and started to read it, upside-down. Deciding that it was too late to
exclude her, Harry explained to Luna why they had not returned to school that year. As he recounted
everything from the prophecy to why they needed to destroy every last Horcrux, Luna listened with
surprising intensity. To any other person the story might have sounded completely insane, but
thankfully Luna had a tendency to believe farfetched tales. She had always been a loyal companion,
and in retrospect Harry was glad to have another person backing them up, since he knew that their
journey was not going to get any easier from here on out.

When they had finished entertaining themselves with their inside joke, the two young men took
the seats closest to the fire. Harry was relieved and happy to have Ron back with them. He had an
amazing time alone with Hermione, but Ron helped to lighten the load of being the savior of the
world. His presence reminded him that at heart, he was still a free-living teenager.

They caught up on what else had been happening in the world outside them. Ron described to him
how he had caught glimpses of the Burrow, Christmas decorations slowly coming up as the holiday
came closer and closer. Harry sighed. It was amazing how even in war, the world managed to just
keep going. To think that anything as normal and gratifying as Christmas could still occur amidst
the constant fear and uncertainty of the times was unbelievable. His mind then jumped to Ginny. He
felt sorry for her, having to stay cooped up in her house while her best friends were out trying to
save the world without her. As his mind wandered on its own, he began to think how nice it would be
to be there with her…comforting her…making her smile…kissing her…

But then suddenly Ginny turned into Hermione. If his body had warmed a few degrees when thinking
about his ex-girlfriend, thinking about Hermione set him on fire. To be able to hold her, give her
the perfect Christmas present, see her smile…to be able to kiss her like he wanted to a few nights
ago…

Harry literally slapped himself in the face, causing Ron to drop the pages of notes he had been
reading. To Ron’s surprise, Harry repeated the action again. The first one was for thinking about
Hermione romantically, mentally breaking his vow to never fall in love with her. He wasn’t in love
with her, after all.

The second slap was for thinking about Ginny in the same way. Ever since Hermione had pointed
out the superficiality of their relationship, he became increasingly guilty whenever he thought
about her. To think that at one point he couldn’t see his life without her by his side made him
seriously rethink his idea of a perfect romance.

“Are you out of your head?!” yelled Ron, holding down Harry’s wrists to the arm rests in fear
that he would start beating himself again. “I leave for a few weeks and all of a sudden you’ve
taken a page from Dobby and Kreacher…”

“Sorry Ron, lately I’ve been thinking that I *am* going mental…”

“Well, don’t ever let me see you slap yourself again or I’ll slap the habit out of you.” Ron
scolded him, waving a threatening back hand by his face.

“Erm…Thanks I guess,” said Harry, not knowing whether Ron’s comment was a favor or a threat.

They both heard hard footsteps re-entering the main room, the color hastily falling out of Ron’s
face. Harry looked at him, concerned. His whole body seemed to tense up at the sound of Hermione’s
approach, and there seemed to be a gigantic lump in his throat. “What’s wrong, Ron?”

“Can I speak to you in private?” whispered Ron, nudging his head toward the noise’s
direction.

“Uhh…sure, but first let me talk to Hermi…”

“No, NOW!”

Her foot had just entered the room when Ron jumped up and grabbed Harry’s arm, dragging him
towards the tent’s entrance. As they passed her, Luna briefly put down the paper to watch them
leave, completely confused.

Harry was grateful that he had not removed his extra layers, for the weather outside was less
than pleasant compared to the coziness of their abode. Ron cursed as he took a seat on one of the
boxes they used as chairs when on guard duty, regretting immediately not asking Hermione for his
heavy coat back after he had used it as a makeshift blanket. As Harry took a seat on the box next
to him, Ron lit a small fire in hopes that it would do something to stifle the bitter cold around
them.

“Now what’s this all about, Ron?” Harry demanded, shivering. He had just barely survived hours
of unconsciousness in the winter weather, and his sudden return to the world outside was not making
him too happy.

“Well, its Hermione…”

“Oh,” Harry muttered under his breath, his heart beginning to race. “Wha…What about her?”

“Well,” Ron started, stopping to formulate the right words. It seemed that he was having a hard
time trying to tell Harry whatever it was that was on his mind.

“Come on Ron, you can tell me.” Harry said encouragingly.

“Well, uh…I guess it’s not *just* about Hermione…it’s more about Hermione and
*me*.”

“*Oh*,” Harry said in response, realizing what Ron was trying to say. He really did not
want to be the advice-giver to Ron as to how to fix his relationship with Hermione, but being his
best friend, he felt obliged. Fighting the pulsating idea in his head that awkwardness wasn’t the
only reason he did not want to help Ron out, he gave him his undivided attention as he began to
talk again.

“Yeah…uh…I know this must be weird for you and all mate…I would feel awkward if you came to me
to talk about Ginny…” Ron failed to notice Harry’s shiver at the mention of his sister’s name,
thinking that it was probably a reaction the sudden wind which clawed at their exposed skin, “…but
you were the only one who was here with her, and you’re the only person I trust to talk to about
this.”

Harry took a deep breath and ran a hand through his messy locks. His face felt hot, clearly
embarrassed to talk about their mutual best friend behind her back. “Erm…I guess I don’t have much
choice, do I?”

“You do, if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. I’ll just handle it my way, I guess,”
said Ron, staring off into the forest with a puzzled look on his face.

Harry cringed. The last thing he wanted to do was trust Hermione’s heart in the hands of Ron’s
logic. It was, after all, the same logic which had reasoned with him that the right thing to do was
abandon him and Hermione when things had gotten tough. “No, it’s alright, seriously. What do you
want to talk about?”

Ron turned to face Harry, a relieved grin on his face. “Well, I…I’m not sure if you noticed, but
we kind of had…well, that is to say…we had a sort of…*thing* going on before I left.” He
blushed beet red as soon as he finished his sentence, no longer able to look Harry directly in the
eye.

“Really?!” Harry gasped sarcastically, “With all the jealousy, the compliments, the dating book
you had your eyes glued to all summer, the sudden shift in character in order to be more accepting
of her emotional needs, and all the cooing she did whenever you did something right?! And all this
time, you guys *fancied* one another! Who would have thought that, with so little evidence
indicating it…”

Harry’s laughter was cut short by a clump of snow from Ron’s hand. At first Harry had thought he
had said the words a bit too harshly, afraid that his friend would no longer consider him a good
confidant and stop talking, but he was relieved to hear Ron laughing too.

“Anyways, you git, I thought that we had finally gotten to a point where we could take it to the
next level this year. I mean, we’ve kinda been heading toward this point ever since the Yule Ball a
couple years ago, but I think a part of her was waiting for me to mature before she would go out
with me.”

“Ah, so in other words she was waiting for your emotional range to evolve from a teaspoon to,
say, a tablespoon?” smirked Harry, his criticism met with yet another snowball to the face.

Ron dusted off his snowy gloves before continuing, proud of his exceptional aim. “And I thought
I had gotten there. The book had some really great stuff in there, I assume you skimmed through
it?” he said, glancing sideways at Harry. He simply nodded, although it was a lie. The truth was
that he had discarded Ron’s Christmas present with the rest of his belongings, reasoning that
dating advice would be of no use in the fight against Voldemort. Besides, at that point he already
charmed a witch without the aid of even one fail-safe tactic.

Although he questioned whether or not the red-haired witch he had charmed should be claimed as a
victory on his part.

“Great stuff isn’t it? But the more I read through it, the more I realized how…well, obvious
they all were. I mean…complimenting the girl? Taking the time to listen to her? They were all
things I should have been doing in the first place, but I had chosen not to…”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Harry, befuddled.

“But either way, the more I started to follow word-for-word the strategies in the thing, the
more it seemed to work,” Ron continued, choosing not to answer Harry’s question directly. “I mean,
you said it yourself, she started to really warm up to me. We started talking a lot more, just me
and her, about her life, about mine…It was really nice. Closest we ever were, I swear.”

Harry nodded, an odd feeling swimming around in his stomach. He recalled the morning he had
awoken before them at Grimmauld place, their bodies lying close to one another, their hands almost
as if they had been holding each other before they had fallen asleep. As the image replayed in his
head, the feeling of loneliness that he had felt also returned. At the time he had brushed it off
as a longing to have a hand of his own to hold, more specifically Ginny’s, but now he could not
bring himself to believe that that was the entire story.

“But then…”

“Huh?” blurted out Harry, his mind having been on other things when Ron had resumed talking. Ron
raised an eyebrow at him.

“You sure you’re alright, mate? Ever since I got back you’ve been…*jumpy*,” said Ron,
putting the back of his hand on Harry’s forehead as if he was a sick child.

“Sorry. Must be the after effects of being possessed, I swear,” explained Harry, hoping that it
would be a satisfactory excuse. Ron grunted as he removed his hand, but he continued to eye Harry
suspiciously.

“As I was saying…I thought that it…you know, our relationship…was about to happen, but then the
days passed by without any progress in our little mission, and I got more and more frustrated with
the both of you. As much as I want to blame it all on the Horcrux, I knew that it was only
exemplifying the feelings I already had about the whole ordeal. Whenever we were alone, all I could
seem to talk about was how we weren’t getting anywhere and how hopeless a situation we had gotten
ourselves into.” Ron shook his head and put it into his hands, starting to shake. “I can’t believe
I actually left…you guys must hate me…”

Harry put his arm around Ron, hoping that the action would stop his muffled sobs. “Ron, we don’t
hate you. Yeah, we were pretty mad at you, obviously, but the longer you were gone the more we
began to realize the void which had replaced you when you left. It wasn’t the same without you,
mate.”

Ron sniffled and faced Harry, his eyes red and swollen. “I’m such a prat…Did you know that every
time I talked about leaving Hermione would argue with me about how we promised that we would be
with you the whole way? It got to the point that I was so frustrated with her for defending you and
not taking my side that I would just march off in a huff and give her the cold shoulder. Even when
she started to sob, I was too arrogant to do anything to comfort her. Did you know she never once
agreed with me that we were going nowhere? She never lost faith in you, Harry.”

Harry could no longer look Ron in the eye, his entire body filling with guilt. This whole time
he was thinking that they were conspiring together to abandon him, and in reality he was tearing
them apart. A part of him was proud that Hermione had defended him so vigorously, but he also
couldn’t shake off the feeling that he had caused Ron tremendous pain without even knowing about
it. He couldn’t help but feel that he was a gigantic part, if not the sole reason, as to why the
two had broken up.

*“Wait, did they even break-up? Were they even DATING?”*

Ron wanted to stop, feeling that he was putting Harry into a very uncomfortable emotional
position, but he had to vent his thoughts before he suddenly lost the courage to continue. “Sure,
when I had finally mastered the technique of talking to girls from the book, she let me hear about
her personal life, told me her feelings and such. But the more she talked, the more I began to
realize that it took me so much effort just to get her to open up to me. Then, after listening to
her, I couldn’t squash this feeling within me, telling me that I had seen her talk like that to
somebody before. The look in her eye, the way she smiled…it was almost like déjà vu. Eventually, I
figured it out: She would only talk to me…want to be with me, even…well, as soon as I became more
like *you*.”

“*Me*?” Harry gaped, caught off-guard. “What do you…”

“Come on, mate, even *I’m* not that dense. I can’t make assumptions as to why she never
realized it, or whether or not she’ll admit it at all, but she’s been looking for a guy exactly
like you. The facts are all there. Whenever she had a problem, who did she run to? Whenever we got
into trouble, who did she automatically latch herself onto? Which one of us is she constantly
concerned about? And don’t forget the big one, whose side does she always take?”

“Ron, you’re being ridiculous…”

He shook his head. “No, I’m not. I knew virtually nothing about her besides the fact that she
was smart and her parents were dentists. I mean, I didn’t even know that her favorite color
is…”

“Periwinkle.”

“…or that her favorite fruit is…”

“Strawberries.”

“…or the fact that despite going to every single match since our first year and playing a bit
with us during the summer, she still has no idea how quidditch is supposed to be played.”

“Well, that’s obvious. Every game she’s too busy worrying about…”

Harry trailed off as he felt himself blush furiously. Ron responded by pointing his finger at
him, waving it in front of him in triumph.

“Exactly my point,” he said with a tone surprisingly lacking of jealousy. Harry wanted to say
something to prove that what he had said was wrong, but he found no counterpoint coming to his
throat. He had no idea how to respond to such an accusation.

“That night I left, when you two were having another one of your famous
‘let’s-finish-each-other’s-sentences-because-we-can-read-one-another’s-minds’ rants, something
within me just cracked. No matter how much I tried, I could never have that natural connection that
you had with her. That jealousy, paired along with the feeling of hopelessness and hunger, just
made me lose it. Once again, I was being outclassed by you, like I always have been, and when she
said that she wasn’t coming with me? I had to leave. I couldn’t be in the same place with either of
you.”

Ron let out a frustrated shout which caused a few birds in the nearby trees to fly out of their
nests. Harry felt terrible, but Ron must have noticed his downtrodden expression because he placed
a hand over Harry’s shoulder. “Don’t worry mate, I’m madder at myself now, but at the time I
*really* wanted to give you a good beating.”

“I really don’t know how you can sit here smiling at me,” Harry said glumly, shaking his head.
“I didn’t realize how my friendship with her was ruining your guys’ relationship…”

“I thought it was too,” started Ron, stopping to adjust his cap as snow began to fall on them.
“And those first few nights alone in the cave, after my feelings of regret left me and I started to
think back as to why I left in the first place, I was feeling pretty content on not ever seeing
either of you again. I was so angry. I couldn’t believe that she had put you over me, even after
years of chasing after her. And I was also furious at you. It felt like you had taken what had
belonged to me, like Hermione was some prize to be won. I swear, if I had to face the locket the
night I left, I wouldn’t have been able to destroy it. That pent up feeling of inferiority...”
Ron’s fists clenched as he let out another angry sigh. “Let me tell you, there’s nothing that will
put things into perspective like fearing for your life, alone in a cold cave.”

“I guess…” said Harry weakly. It wasn’t as if he wanted the celebrity or the fame that he had.
As much as Ron hated living in his shadow, he would have gladly given it all away to him if he
could. However, as much as he had felt odd towards the prospect of Ron and Hermione dating, he had
never wanted to be a hindrance to their relationship. He never asked Hermione to be so caring for
him, she just *was*.

“Look, Ron. It’s not like I ever intended to prevent you two from coming together…”

“Harry, please, you don’t have to. I know you didn’t, I figured that out myself. I had a lot of
time to think about our relationship those first few nights.”

“…but Ron, I was happy that you two had…”

“…I never realized it before, but just the way she talked about you…”

“…and yeah, it was going to take some adjusting to…”

“…you two are best friends after all…”

“…we just really understand one another…”

“…we fight too much…”

“…strictly platonic…”

“WE’RE JUST LIKE BROTHER AND SISTER!”

Harry and Ron blinked at each other. They had both said the exact same thing about Hermione at
the same time. There was a moment where they just stared at each other, neither believing that what
the other had said was completely true. However, before they could stop themselves they both broke
into a fit of laughter.

“Girls, mate…” Ron stated, looking at Harry.

“Tell me about it,” agreed Harry, rolling his eyes. He was glad that Ron had realized that there
was nothing going on between him and Hermione, effectively ending the threat of being wounded by a
revenge-driven curse while he slept. However, his momentary relief ended when he realized the
implication given by Ron’s statement. “Wait, does that mean that you…you two are going to
break…*are you giving up on her*?”

Ron paused and thought for a moment before sighing and nodding his head, staring straight at
Harry.

Harry just stared blankly back at him. Hermione had told him a similar statement of finality on
the night her voice came out from the deluminator, but it seemed much more believable coming from a
crying wreck than from someone who took the news with not so much as a tear. “Well, don’t give up
mate. Sure, she’s mad now, but you two will get over it…”

“No,” Ron interrupted, looking up in to the night sky as snowflakes continued their descent
around them, “I’ve finally accepted it. We’re not the right people for one another. I don’t know,
you might kill me for saying this, but I guess I only wanted her because I couldn’t have her. And
even when I knew that she was falling for me, a part of my heart kept telling me that it was
wrong…that *we* were wrong. I mean, the way we fight? Do you realize how many times I’ve made
her cry? I bet I made her cry for weeks after I left, putting her into such a terrible place to
have to choose between the two of us…”

Choosing not to answer the obvious question, Harry decided to bite his lip instead. Ron
understood the meaning of the gesture, though.

“Exactly. I hurt her too much, Harry. And if we continued on, I don’t think it would get much
better. I mean, we might be able to make it a long-time thing, but it isn’t worth it if she’s as
hurt as much as she is happy. You know me, if some prat went around making Hermione cry, I would be
the first to throw a punch, so to not defend her against myself…I would be a hypocrite. If I really
loved her like I thought I did, I wouldn’t be so jealous over her either. I mean, it got to the
point where I thought you two were snogging behind my back…”

“WHAT?!” Harry screamed, falling off his chair. “And what brought you to that conclusion?”

He simply shrugged. “Come on, all those times you would hang outside the Great Hall or the
library while I was eating…those chunks of time where you two just disappeared and no one knew
where you went…Don’t look so surprised, mate, I’m not the only one who noticed…”

“WHAT?!” yelled Harry, louder this time, missing his box completely as he tried to sit down and
winding up in the snow again.

Ron was grinning, obviously enjoying the situation. “Oh let’s see…Krum, Fred, George, Dad, Rita
Skeeter, McGonnagal…” As Ron continued to recite the long list of people whom had thought that
Harry and Hermione had been a couple at one point or another in their friendship, Harry felt
himself sweating more and more in embarrassment.

“…Hagrid, Fleur, Seamus…”

“Alright, alright, geez…I don’t know why everybody thinks that we are though…” said Harry
honestly.

“Really? Do you want that list too? It’s quite a bit longer, actually…”

“NO! Err…I’ll take your word for it,” responded Harry as Ron started to laugh.

There was a moment of quiet as Ron strengthened the fire between them, the flames turning a dark
blue. He sighed, which grabbed Harry’s attention. “Still, I’m going to miss her…”

“It’s not like she’s going to shun you out of her life, Ron. Like I said, she may be angry but
she still cares more for you than you give her credit for,” Harry reassured him.

“Yeah, I guess…but I didn’t mean ‘her’ as in Hermione, I meant her as in…you know, a girlfriend.
It’s a nice feeling…having someone to talk to, a companion…”

“I know what you mean…but you get to be a bachelor again, that’s exciting, right?” tried Harry,
smirking.

“Oh yeah, because you know my luck with women is that great.”

Harry shrugged. “Hey, if that book can hook Hermione, you can get anybody!”

They shared another laugh as they watched the freshly fallen snow melt away immediately as it
hit the warm ground around the fire. Harry suddenly looked at Ron sternly.

“When did you get so mature?”

“Hey, like I said, being on a kill list kind of forces you to grow up.”

“Well, Mr. Mature, you’re going to be the one to break the news to her.”

“Damn, thought you would say that.”

“The sooner the better, you know,” advised Harry, not looking forward to having to endure more
bickering between the two.

“For you or me?” asked Ron, bemused.

“Can I choose both?”

“Sure.”

Harry put his arm around Ron and he followed suit. He might not have ever had a real family, but
Ron was definitely his brother. With him back, for the first time in weeks Harry was confident that
he could take down the Dark Lord. Smiling, he gave Ron’s shoulder a punch of appreciation.

“You know,” Ron started, catching Harry’s face out of the corner of his eye. “Krum was right.
She never does shut up about you.”

Harry blushed, standing up as Ron smirked at him. “You git.”

Ron stood up and let out a small chuckle, turning to face the tent. He closed his eyes, trying
to prolong confronting Hermione.

“This is not going to end well.”

“She’ll get over it…eventually. I promise.”

“Any advice on breaking up with somebody?”

“Why are you asking me? You broke up with Lavender, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but Lavender couldn’t kick my arse.”

Harry gave Ron an encouraging pat on the back before letting him lift the entrance flap, both of
them not too enthusiastic about what was to come. As Ron disappeared into the tent, Harry stopped
and said a silent prayer for both of his friends’ sake.

It was going to be a long night.



10. Misunderstanding
--------------------

**Chapter 10: Misunderstanding**

Hermione dropped the dishes with a satisfying crash into the sink. Leaning with her back against
the counter, she covered her mouth and screamed as loudly as she could into her hands. She
continued the yell until she ran out of breath, gasping for air as her head hung lazily, eyes
toward the ground. Ever since she had realized who had saved Harry and her, she had not wanted to
say a word to anybody.

As much as she told Harry that she wanted Ron back too, when she saw his face the feelings of
sadness and anger returned back to her instantly. He had trampled over her heart, and no amount of
saying that she was over it was going to make the pain of the past go away. She didn’t want to be
furious at him, but she could not get the image of her crying alone in her bed for several nights,
wishing that he would come back and make everything better, out of her head.

It wasn’t as if she wanted to get back with him; His choice to abandon them was enough to doom
his chances of wooing her over. However, she knew that no amount of apologies would make up for a
fraction of the suffering he had caused her.

Hermione fought back the sobs which attempted to escape from her. She was not going to shed
another tear over the romantic prospects of her and Ron’s relationship.

Taking several long, deep breaths, she managed to open her tired eyelids. She had to face the
facts: Ron was back and (presumably) here to stay, and she would have to eventually tell him that
she was done trying to have a relationship with him.

*“Easier said than done, I’ll probably strangle him before I ever utter a word to him,”*
she thought to herself. Pulling up the sleeve of Ron’s coat, which she was still wearing, Hermione
glanced at her wristwatch. *“Five more minutes to cool-down, then I’ll have my chat with
him…*”

It wasn’t for another fifteen minutes before Hermione maintained the self-control to move her
feet. Taking off the jacket and placing it next to the sink, she marched her way back into the main
room of the tent. Despite the extra time she had given her hostility to dissipate, she was only
half-surprised when each of her footsteps made a forceful, angry echo against the hard floor of
their home.

When she had stepped into the dining area and opened her mouth to call for Ron, she had just
enough time to see his and Harry’s backs swiftly exiting through the front door. Annoyed, she
stomped her way towards their location, her desire to let Ron know *exactly* how she felt
about his departure several weeks ago driving her aching legs. Whether that would be completed
verbally or physically, she had yet to decide.

“I don’t think you should go out there.”

Hermione gasped and covered her heart, the surprise of the voice almost causing her to ready her
wand. If she hadn’t of known better, she would have been confused as to how an upside-down copy of
the *Daily Prophet* had somehow managed to float on its own and speak to her. It was yet
another moment where Luna had seemed to appear out of nowhere, her usual silent disposition making
her seem more a part of the room than one of its inhabitants.

“Luna, sweet Merlin…”

The younger girl put down the copy of the newspaper, looking at Hermione with a slight frown.
“I’m sorry I scared you Hermione, but I was just trying to say that it wouldn’t be a good idea for
you to go out there right now.”

“And why not?” quarried Hermione as she slammed her hands into her hips, her tone much more
strident than she had intended it to be. Luna didn’t seem to notice her frustration, however. “I
have every right to let Ron know just how much I’ve *missed* him too, don’t I? Oh, I just want
to *hug* him so bad right now, I can’t wait until later. Harry can talk to him when I’m done,
I just have a *few* choice things to say to him I swear, so I’m just going to go and tell him
really quick…”

“Harry told me everything.”

Hermione had slowly started inching to the door, still spewing her sarcastic list of reasons for
wanting to talk to Ron, when Luna had completely caught her off-guard. She had absolutely no clue
what the girl was talking about.

“What do you mean?” she asked timidly, pulling out the chair across from her and taking a seat,
Ron’s torture temporarily in the back of her mind.

Luna tilted her head. “You know…the stuff you guys have been up to lately.”

Hermione rubbed her chin. What was she alluding to? What was there to tell Luna that she didn’t
already know about? It couldn’t have been about the attack by the Horcrux, since she had witnessed
more of it than both Harry and she had. Maybe she was thinking too narrowly…what had happened
within the past few days that no one else but Harry knew? She couldn’t think of anything that
happened recently which Harry would want to divulge to anyone else beside herself. Now that she
thought about it, there really wasn’t *anything* that had happened since Ron left. The only
thing that had occurred out of the ordinary was…

*“The almost-kiss?! Did Harry tell Luna about our almost-kiss?!”*

“Everything alright, Hermione? You’re looking awfully pale.”

Hermione suppressed the urge to rush through the entrance flap and demand the truth from Harry,
choosing instead to act oblivious to the whole situation. “I’m fine, must be a side-effect of being
possessed. Anyways, what did…umm…Harry tell you, ex…exactly?”

Luna didn’t answer immediately, her expression making it seem like she was pulling a long lost
memory from somewhere far in the back of her mind. “Well,” she said, “from the sound of it I think
he told me everything, starting from the beginning.”

Hermione’s heart dropped; apparently he had told her much more than just the most recent of
their awkward moments. A brief vision of herself waking up with Harry’s arm around her and
his…other parts pushing into her back swarmed Hermione’s head. She was suddenly filled with a
confusion-driven rage.

“And why would he tell *you* all that?” demanded Hermione, not bothering to mask the anger
and apprehension in her voice.

Rubbing her chin, Luna thought hard about how to answer Hermione’s question. “I suppose he felt
that since I’m here now, I should know everything that happened…to prevent any awkwardness, I
guess. I don’t think he knew you would mind so much, or else he wouldn’t have told me.”

“I can’t see how he wouldn’t think I would be furious!” snapped Hermione, which made Luna jump
backwards a bit, the squeak of her chair piercing the calm of the room. “I mean, it’s a private
matter! Who gave him the right to just spew off the happenings of the past few weeks, especially
since it’s such *sensitive* information…”

“From what I could gather, it wasn’t just about the past couple of days. He told me tons more.
Harry seemed to think that this has been building up since your guys’ first year, but he said it
really started to sink in two years ago…”

“WHAT?!” Hermione exclaimed, her jaw dropping as her anger continued to swell. *“What the
bloody hell does he mean by ‘building since first year’?”* she asked herself, utterly confused
by the enormity of what Luna had said. Was she possibly saying that Harry had admitted to her that
he had some sort of feelings towards…no, that wasn’t a possibility. This was getting out of hand.
She had been angry that Harry was telling Luna about all the intimate moments they had shared over
the past several days, a part of her heart telling her that he had probably laughed off their close
encounters despite the fact that she cherished every one of them, no matter the amount of odd
feelings they had spawned within her. But now, knowing that he was telling Luna secrets that even
she did not know about…secrets about *her*, even…this pushed it over the top. Harry’s name was
quickly climbing to the top of Hermione’s hex-to-death list.

Hermione closed her eyes and took two deep, wavering breaths in hopes that her fury would no
longer be wasted on Luna and instead directed toward her best friend. “Well Luna, I’ve enjoyed our
chat, but I think that I really…I mean *really* have to talk to Harry right now, so I’ll just
be going…”

Luna panicked. She had angered Hermione somehow, and she put it on herself to correct the
mistake before Hermione resorted to violent measures. “Uhh…Hermione, don’t go out there!” The
outburst seemed to work. The bushy haired girl turned on her heels and glared at her. “I just
wanted to say,” started Luna, hoping that her voice was calm enough to distract Hermione, “you
shouldn’t be so furious at Harry. I mean, Ronald had just as much to say on the subject as
Harry…”

Apparently that had been the wrong thing to say. Hermione sprinted back to the table and slammed
both her hands onto it, leaning across so that her face was mere inches away from Luna’s. The
younger girl smiled nervously, hoping that she hadn’t given Hermione another reason to smite
Ron.

“Are…you…telling…me…that Ron knows EVERYTHING?!” Hermione screamed, the words making Luna cringe
in fear.

“Umm…from the way he was talking it seemed like he knew everything, yes…they both explained the
whole thing to me…” said Luna, her back completely straight as if one wrong movement would trigger
Hermione to go off again.

Hermione pushed off the table and slammed herself into the chair behind her, her arms crossed
tightly. Of all people to tell, why would Harry tell Ron, the person she least wanted to know about
her sudden closeness to Harry? She never hated him so much in her life. She never hated *both
of* them so much in her life. They had both officially betrayed her…after all she did for
them!

There was a long moment of quiet as Hermione sat in her chair brooding, Luna sitting across the
table from her changing her stare between her and the entrance flap, hoping that Harry and Ron
would come back soon and fix the mess she had created.

“So,” Hermione said, a wicked sarcasm in her voice, “Harry told Ron…Oh, he is going to get
it…”

“If it means anything,” Luna interjected, “I think Ronald knew everything already. I was in the
room the whole time; they really had no time to talk in private. I guess he has been making his own
observations the last couple of years and connected the dots. But he seemed to really know the
details, like he has been here the whole time.”

To Luna’s surprise, Hermione shot up into a standing position, the movement causing her chair to
fall over. She paced around the room, her eyes glazed over as her mind raced. Luna had seen her
like this before during DA meetings, whenever somebody had asked her a question which did not have
a simple answer. She was half-expecting Hermione to suddenly sprint off to the library, returning
with a thick book and a long explanation about some previously unsolved mystery.

Hermione suddenly stopped her patrol of the room, looking intensely at Luna. “You said that Ron
seemed to know *everything* that had occurred, and Harry hadn’t told him a word?” The younger
girl meekly nodded back at her. “Alright, then…”

She suddenly took out her wand, which made Luna draw out her wand too instinctively. However,
Hermione did not aim it at her, or even at the door. Rather, she started moving around the outer
edge of the tent with her wand pointed at various objects, a flurry of Latin escaping her mouth in
a constant stream. The tip was glowing dark green, leaving in its wake what looked like a floating,
glowing snake.

Luna watched on, confused. “Umm…Hermione, you need help?”

Hermione didn’t even bother to turn to Luna, her mind completely encased in the frying pan she
was now examining intensely. “Well, you said that Ron knew everything, so then he must have been
listening in on us while he was gone! That mistrusting prat, probably left some sort of hearing
charm on an object so he could wait until we had done all the grunt work and he could come waltzing
in coincidentally when he knew we were moving along.” Hermione was now in the process of poking the
chair Luna was sitting on with the tip of her wand. “I mean he has the nerve to leave us, but then
to *spy* on us too? That *prat*…”

Luna watched as Hermione continued her investigation. She had abandoned her wand, choosing
instead to just pick up the various items and put them firmly against her ear, almost as if the
inanimate object would whisper to her that it had been eavesdropping on her and Harry.

“Umm…Hermione?” said Luna. She had just picked up the broken locket and was scrutinizing the
various pieces of it when Luna had called to her, the chain of the necklace still hanging from her
index finger inches in front of her nose. “Do you think it’s safe to be touching that thing? I
mean, it did used to have a piece of You-Know-Who’s soul inside of it, so can’t it still be
dangerous?”

Hermione paused and softly let the destroyed artifact fall to the table. Luna’s comment had
caught her completely off-guard. “Y…you know what a Horcrux is?”

“Yes,” Luna stated, finally able to relax a bit as Hermione’s rage seemed to have been replaced,
at least temporarily, with curiosity.

“But…but how? All the books in the library at Hogwarts had no information about Horcruxes…”
stammered Hermione, a little scared that Luna knew so much about Voldemort’s insurance plan.

“I didn’t learn it from a book. Harry and Ron told me,” said Luna as Hermione retook her seat
across from her. She looked at Hermione with a raised eyebrow. It was her turn to be confused.
“What did you think they were telling me about?”

Hermione didn’t answer at first, but Luna noticed that she was shaking her head wildly and
blushing. A few seconds later, the silence was filled with a boisterous laugh from Hermione.
Apparently, something had been ridiculously funny about the situation, although Luna once again had
no idea what it was. *“These three and their inside jokes…they are so odd sometimes!”* thought
Luna, starting to slowly laugh along with Hermione in hopes that it would make moment a bit less
awkward.

“Oi, what’s so funny?”

The girls had been too encompassed in laughter to notice that two other people had entered the
room. Hermione heard the sounds of boots rubbing against the ground in an attempting to rid
themselves of snow. She had been ridiculous to think that Harry would reveal their awkward moments
to anyone. When Luna had told her that they had only been explaining their quest, her heart started
to beat again. She berated herself for ever distrusting him. For what would probably be the only
time in her life, she was grateful towards Voldemort’s Horcruxes.

Besides, the notion that Harry harbored more than just friendly feelings toward her since they
had first met should have been more than enough to tell her that the boys had not been talking
about their relationship to Luna.

“Oh, just a hilarious misunderstan…ding,” her voice trailed off as her eyes locked with the man
who had broken their privacy. She had been so enthralled in her euphoria that she had forgotten all
about Ron. Instantly her expression turned to stone, which caused Ron to shoot a pleading glance at
Harry. “And why would *you* care what was happening in here, *Ron*? You didn’t seem to
care much a few weeks ago…”

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but it quickly closed. He bent his head down in shame, which
gave Hermione a sickening sense of pride. No matter how much she missed him when he was gone she
was not going to instantly forgive him for the horrendous pain he had caused her. She was steadfast
in her vindictiveness.

Harry ran a hand through his hair. This was going to be tricky. Knowing that he had to do
something to break the ice, he poked Ron in the side. The red-head turned, a questioning look upon
his face. Harry tilted his head, jerking it in the direction of Hermione in hopes that Ron would
get the message that he had to do something about the situation. Thankfully, he did.

“Hermione, can I talk to you? In…in private?” Ron managed to mutter after a long breath. There
was a long moment where the silent tension seemed to suck the air out of the room. Harry crossed
his fingers, hoping that she would take the offer rather than prolong her vendetta against Ron.

Hermione’s eyes shot around the room and she considered Ron’s suggestion. Luna head was moving
swiftly between Ron and her, her long blonde hair swaying like a tail in the air. Her eyes locked
with Harry’s. Noticing that he had gotten her attention, he put his hands together and beckoned her
to accept the chance to clear the air.

Regretfully, Hermione pushed her chair back and stood up. “Alright, *Ronald*,” she said
bitterly, curtseying toward him mockingly, “let’s go have a nice little chat, shall we?”

Ron gulped, turning around as fast as he could and escaping through the front entrance. Hermione
took brisk steps toward where Ron had been standing, but she was intercepted halfway when Harry
suddenly grabbed her arm. He spun her so that she was looking directly at him, both his hands
holding her in her spot.

Hermione looked at him in concern, scanning his face for any sign of distress. “What is it,
Harry?” she said, scared that something horrible had happened.

“Hermione, I know you don’t want to hear this, but please listen to Ron. He is sincerely sorry,
but you just have to hear what he has to say.”

Her eyes rolled. “Why should I? This is all *his* fault,” she whispered to him angrily,
hoping that Luna was not listening in on their conversation.

“I’m not denying that,” replied Harry sympathetically. “But just give him a chance. You said it
yourself, we can use all the help we can get, and despite what he did he did come back and save our
lives. Don’t forget that.”

Hermione sighed. As much as she wanted to deny it, she knew that he was right. “He hurt me
really horribly, you know? I can’t just forgive him…”

“I understand Hermione, I really do,” said Harry, giving her what he hoped was a consoling
squeeze. “And you know if he tries anything like that again I’ll be the first to jinx him.”

Hermione smiled at Harry’s threat. A part of her knew that Harry would never hurt Ron, but the
fact that he had said it anyway made her so grateful to have him in her life.

“Promise me you’ll listen to him,” said Harry calmly.

“Alright, I promise I’ll listen to him.”

He kissed her on the cheek and let her go (Luna, who had been watching the whole time, grinned
before picking up the *Prophet* once again). He watched as she slowly made her way toward the
cold outside.

He was surprised when Hermione suddenly turned around and came back to him. She stood face to
face with him, and he would have given her a hug for reassurance if her expression had not been
radically changed.

“What is it, Hermione?” asked Harry, confusion and concern mingling on his face.

“I forgot to give you something.”

Harry was about to ask her what it was when all thoughts suddenly left his head as Hermione’s
fist came crashing into his stomach with full force, knocking the wind out of him.

*“Bloody hell* Hermione, what was that for?!” Harry bellowed, gasping for air.

“That’s for making me think that you told Ron and Luna about all our awkward moments the past
couple of days!” whispered Hermione matter-of-factly, kissing Harry’s forehead before moving back
towards the tent exit. He was still grasping his ribs with a confused look plastered on his face
when she had reached the flap, the cold winter wind already causing her to shiver.

“Hey!” he called weakly to her as an afterthought, “Promise me you won’t kill him either.
Alright? Hermione, did you hear me? Hermione?” He was perfectly sure that she had heard his plea,
but she had chosen to ignore it. As a matter of fact, as she stepped out of the tent, he could
swear that he saw a clutter of yellow feathers escaping from her wand as she disappeared behind the
canvas.

Harry sighed, walking out of the foyer and sitting down across from Luna in the spot Hermione
had just left. She put down the newspaper once again and greeted Harry with a smile.

“Any idea what *that* was about?” Harry asked Luna, using his damp gloves as makeshift
icepacks for the soreness in his chest.

Luna simply shrugged. “How was your talk with Ronald?” asked Luna innocently.

“It was…good, I guess,” he replied, not really knowing how to answer the question.

“If it means anything to you Harry, he really is sorry about what he did.”

Harry took off his scarf and jacket before looking back at Luna. “Yeah, I believe you Luna.”

“When I first joined up with him after …well, he would talk a lot about you two. How he left
you, how you wouldn’t take him back if he tried. That night we heard Hermione’s voice coming from
his light thingy, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to go find you guys. I had to do quite a bit of
convincing in order for him to finally leave that cave.”

Harry smiled at her, reaching over and grabbing her hand. “Well, thank you for that. We wouldn’t
be able to do this without him, as much as a big of a help as Hermione is. But I also want to thank
you again; you really are a powerful ally to have along with us.”

She let out an embarrassed giggle as she let go of Harry’s hand. “Daddy said that I was destined
to leave my mark in history, so I guess this is what he was talking about. I guess someone else
will have to find where the Nargles migrate to every other summer to breed.”

Harry laughed, Luna’s lightheartedness distracting him from the potential bloodshed which might
be occurring right outside their home. They both sat in silence, the only sound in the tent coming
in the form of muffled words from outside the tent.

“Hermione…calm down…”

“Calm down? CALM DOWN?! Are you serious?”

“I said I was sorry, now if you would just keep your voice down a bit…ooph!”

“Ron…Weasley…you…are…a…complete…*arse*!”

Harry and Luna sat frozen as the barely audible shrieks of birds started to crescendo, the noise
making it seem like they had just found fresh prey.

“Ow ow ow! Get ‘em off me! Hermi…ow!”

Harry quickly stood up, trying to get the noises out of his head. “Err…care for some tea,
Luna?

“No thanks, I’m…”

“*Protego!*”

Luna’s response was cut off as a small explosion came from outside, followed shortly after by
the smell of burning hair.

“Merlin Hermione, that could’ve killed me! Are you *mental*?”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be calling *me* mental right now, Ron
Weasley!”

Luna and Harry were frozen, eyes glued to the door. “Er…tea sounds nice, I think,” she replied,
answering Harry’s long forgotten offer.

“Yeah, um…I’m just going to make some tea then,” Harry shouted over the growing ambient noise,
walking towards the kitchen.

He shook his head as soon as he disappeared from the doorway. As the water sat boiling on the
stove, he reached into the nearby cupboard to make sure they still had bandages and rubbing
alcohol. It was going to be a long night. A *very* long night.

**A/N:** Sorry for the slow update, this chapter had been done for awhile but my beta was
busy and I had to take A TON of time packing for college (oh noez, first year!). Alright, so I’ll
admit that pretty much no plot progression happened in this chapter, but it was another case of
“I’ll start and see where it goes.” Yes, I originally said that this chapter was in three parts,
but apparently the characters wanted it to go on a bit longer (hence why the word count is slightly
lower on these chapters compared to my “stand-alone” chapters). And yes, maybe Paranoid!Hermione
was a bit over-the-top, but hey, you guys got some moments in here to tide you over until I’m done
with this section of the story. So there will be at least one more chapter of this arc after this,
maybe more. TY for the awesome reviews as always! You guys are the best.



11. Loose Ends
--------------

**Chapter 11: Loose Ends**

Two and a half tea kettles later, Harry and Luna sat impatiently at the dining table, eyes not
leaving the small line on the far wall which indicated the entrance to the tent. It had been well
over an hour since Hermione had grudgingly disappeared behind the veil, following an equally glum
Ron.

“It’s awfully quiet,” Harry said, the first words spoken between the two of them in quite a bit
of time.

Luna nodded her head as she took a sip of tea, more out of habit than out of thirst. “It must be
a good sign, I haven’t heard an explosion in over twenty minutes.”

Harry had been tempted to run out and save his two best friends from themselves, but deep down
he knew that they had to get it out of their systems. If they kept any of their regrets inside of
them, it would destroy their team dynamic. Even with Luna, if neither of them had their minds
completely focused on the hunt for the Horcruxes, Voldemort would have an unnecessary, but powerful
advantage against them. Their teamwork was legendary when they all worked together, but any sort of
reluctance to help one another would be enough to jeopardize their entire mission.

Besides, a part of Harry was afraid of getting caught in the crossfire. Ron wouldn’t be using
any magic against Hermione, but judging from the noises they were hearing coming from their
location it seemed as if her already powerful spellcasting had reached ludicrous proportions. Harry
prayed that the secrecy charms Hermione had cast would hold up despite the onslaught.

*“And,*” Harry added to himself, suppressing an evil laugh, *“Ron deserves it.”*

Harry scratched the back of his neck, yawning slightly. “Still…”

“The silence is more frightening than the noise?” said Luna, smirking as she continued to stare
at the door.

“Exactly.”

There was another stint of inactivity and ominous silence as Harry refilled their glasses. It
was torture waiting for them to finish their talk. Images of Hermione reverting back to the broken
state she was in the first few days Ron had left floated at the front of his mind. A sudden anger
flared within him, making him wish that he was the one outside jinxing Ron to death, but it was
quickly suppressed by his own will power. As much as he hated leaving her so vulnerable, this was
Hermione’s battle to fight. He would be there after to help clean the wounds (literally, in Ron’s
case), but until that moment there was nothing he could do for her.

Wanting to distract himself, Harry decided to attempt a conversation with Luna. He realized that
despite sitting across from her for such a long time, their words had been nothing more than talk
about Ron and Hermione.

“So Luna…er…how is everyone at Hogwarts?”

Luna seemed surprised that Harry was addressing her. It suddenly occurred to him that despite
being one of the best members in the DA, nobody outside them, Neville, and Ginny ever really talked
to her. The thought that such a unique individual was shunned by so many of her peers made Harry
frown. They were so much alike, two individuals whose reputations determined everyone’s view
towards them rather than who they actually were.

“Well, Professor…Headmaster Snape has made it a pretty horrible place to be. Pretty much
anything that involves groups of students outside of classes has been disbanded forcefully. But he
isn’t the worst problem: It’s the Carrows. They are his enforcers…violent, horrible people they
are. Thankfully I have been able to avoid any of their detentions, but Neville…”

“Neville?!” Harry burst out, shocked. “Bloody hell, first everyone picks on him for being odd
and now Death Eaters are punishing him for no reason…”

“Oh, he deserves it,” Luna said sympathetically, causing Harry to look at her oddly. “Not to say
what they did was right, but he did come into their path. Many times, actually…I’ve never seen him
so determined to fight authority…”

Harry was shocked. Of all people he could have thought of to fight Snape’s regime, Neville would
not have been on the top of his list. Sure, out of all the Hogwart’s students left he probably had
the best reason for seeking revenge on the Death Eaters, but he had never really struck Harry as a
person who would develop into a rebellious leader. Apparently Ron wasn’t the only person who had
matured this year.

“Wow…Neville…Who would have guessed! So how has he been fighting back?”

Luna smiled. “Well, it was mostly secretive things…making the environment as hectic as possible,
secretly rallying a resistance force, saving those who were being tortured and hunted by the
Carrows and hid them in the Room of Requirement…but I think the thing that made Headmaster Snape
most angry was that he continued the DA.”

Harry suppressed a cringe at Luna’s decision to give Snape such a respected title, instead
choosing to smile as he leaned back into his chair, hands behind his head. Neville was continuing
what he had started. It was good to know that somewhere there was a group of people just like him
doing all they could to fight Voldemort’s control.

“That’s absolutely brilliant! Best news I’ve heard in awhile.”

“Yes, he is quite an amazing person, Neville. But they can only do so much. Last I heard, he had
to go into hiding since the Headmaster had decreed it alright for the Carrows to have absolute,
unquestionable power over the discipline system. Basically, they tortured dozens of random people
in an attempt to get us to stop intervening with their plans. Neville said that he did not want
more innocent people hurt, so we had to stop our sabotage,” Luna finished, frowning. “It’s much
worse than it was with Professor Umbridge, Harry. Especially with you not there.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, taken aback.

“Although lots of people distrusted you or thought you were a fraud, ever since You-Know-Who
came back into the public eye, everyone felt…I suppose *safe* with you around. I mean, you are
the Chosen One, after all.”

Harry pondered over what Luna had said. He left Hogwarts to protect everyone there, but it seems
as if things had become much worse indeed. However, they would need to learn to persevere without
him being there. If Neville and Luna were any indication, the kids back at school would be able to
survive, albeit scarred, until they had destroyed all the Horcruxes and eventually Voldemort
himself.

“But I digress…I assume you are waiting for me to talk about Ginny?” inquired Luna with a grin
expectantly. To her surprise, Harry did not smile at the mention of his former girlfriend’s name.
Rather, he seemed to fall into a deep internal struggle, his face showing nothing but
confusion.

“Err…” he managed to utter in response. Harry had been trying to avoid all thoughts about Ginny
lately. He glanced at the doorway. Just like Ron and Hermione were doing at the moment, he too
would have to have a break-up talk with the youngest Weasley. But it was going to be different: For
all Harry knew she was still in love with him, and she had no idea that he had lost all romantic
feelings for her. A part of him was apprehensive of that inevitable conversation, but a larger part
of his heart was filled with guilt. He felt almost as if he had led her on…made her think that she
and him were destined to be together forever. In all honesty, he had almost led himself to believe
that their relationship was destiny.

It was yet another situation where the voice inside his head had been wiser than his own
instincts. The fact that that particular voice was Hermione’s, Harry insisted, was a mere
coincidence.

Luna frowned. She didn’t realize how much Harry missed her, why else would he be so upset at the
mentioning of her name? Choosing not to cause any further damage, she instead chose to sip from her
teacup. He probably did not want to hear about how Ginny had become the second in command of the DA
and was starting to get suspiciously close to Neville, anyway. That would probably just upset him
even more.

Their silent contemplations were interrupted by the swift ruffle of canvas and a sudden burst of
cold wind and snow. Hermione dragged her boots across the floor, snow and sweat littered across her
brow. She hung her coat on the rack beside the entrance and quickly proceeded toward the kitchen,
choosing not to acknowledge Harry and Luna’s questioning looks.

“I’m going to make some tea,” grumbled Hermione through gritted teeth as she continued her brisk
walk towards the opposite end of the room.

“Actually we have some right…” started Luna hopefully.

“FRESH tea!” shouted Hermione over her shoulder as her bushy hair disappeared from their
sight.

Harry turned to face Luna. She was staring back at him, blinking confusedly. He had no idea
whether to take Hermione’s reentrance as a good sign or a bad one.

One thing was for sure: The fact that Ron had not returned with could not be a good thing.

As they both got up to run outside, expecting to find the bloody corpse of their male companion,
a scruffy figure slowly limped into the tent. His clothing was rough and tattered, so much so that
it seemed Lupin had found them but dyed his hair red.

“Ronald, are you alright?” asked Luna, covering her mouth.

“Oh yeah, just peachy, thanks Luna,” said Ron as he used a nearby side-table as a makeshift
crutch. When he finally was able to stand up to his full height, Harry took a step back in horror;
Ron reminded him of a zombie. There were several holes in his robes, the outsides charred black as
if he had been the target of hail of fireballs. Snow covered him in several spots, the non-white
areas darkened with wetness. Across his freckled face were larger red spots, the battle wounds he
had suffered at the claws of Hermione’s army of conjured canaries. From where Harry was standing,
it also seemed as if a good portion of the hair on top of his head had suddenly disappeared, making
it look like an out-of-place bald spot.

“Mate, you look like hell…” Harry said as he helped Ron to the empty seat beside Luna. When he
sat down, she started to dust the snow off his clothing, pieces of linen also falling off during
her sweeping.

“Feel like it too,” Ron said as he poured himself a cup of tea.

“So I assume you guys…err…got everything out in the open?” asked Harry, hoping that it wasn’t
too soon to be intruding in on their private conversation. He couldn’t help it though: he had to
know whether or not everything was going to be ok.

“Well, after the ambush of canaries, the dodging of various curses I’ve never even heard about,
and me finally being able to disarm her and tie her down…”

“You tied her down?!” Luna and Harry shouted at him, both of them glaring.

“I had too! If I didn’t she would have eventually got the attention of the Death Eaters, what
with her fireworks display. That and it was the only way I could get her to listen to me!” Ron
defended himself fiercely, rubbing a gash they had failed to notice before on his right elbow. “But
don’t worry, she got plenty of shots in before I was able to subdue the violent side of her…”

Harry was getting impatient. “But did you talk it out? Are you guys going to be alright or will
I have to get used to being stuck in the middle of another one of your guys’ arguments again?”

Ron cringed as he accidently poked a particularly large bruise on his left arm, the wound
nothing more than a large mound of brown skin. “She didn’t really say much; I told her everything I
told you before I let her go. So I guess it’s all up to her now…”

The room fell silent as they heard Hermione’s heavy footsteps reenter the area. Unlike Ron, she
seemed exactly the same as she had been when she had left the tent, although a little bit more
flustered. Contrary to what she had said earlier, she had emerged from the kitchen without any type
of beverage, and the sound of boiling water could not be heard.

“Err…I thought you said you were going to get tea,” Harry said softly, afraid that he might
trigger her off (his ribs were still sore from the punch she had given him earlier).

“I’ve decided that I didn’t want tea, rather I would prefer a good night’s rest. I’m exhausted.
So if you will all excuse me,” Hermione started marching toward her bedroom, feigning tiredness,
“Good night Harry, night Luna.”

The three watched as she walked with hurried steps across the table and towards a corner of the
room. When she got there, however, she quickly turned around, which caused them all to jump back.
Harry got out of his chair, afraid of Hermione’s sudden excitement. However, no one was prepared
for what happened next:

She sprinted across the room and flung her arms around Harry, laughing hysterically.

“Err…Hermione?” questioned Harry as she continued her guffaw, the sound muffled by his
shoulder.

“Oh, Merlin…in all the excitement I totally forgot!”

Confused, Harry looked through the mess of hair in front of him, spinning Hermione just enough
so he could come into eye contact with Ron. He shot him an angry look. In response, Harry threw up
his hands in a gesture that was supposed to be a shrug.

“What have you done to her?!” Harry mouthed silently to him.

Ron shook his head while shrugging his shoulders. He had not done a single thing to her during
their whole conversation (besides tying her down, of course). Ron jabbed his finger towards
Hermione’s back, his right hand spinning around the side of his head as he mouthed back the word
‘mental’ to his black haired friend.

Harry broke their hug and held her in such a way that he could stare into her eyes. She was
positively beaming, letting go of his sides in order to grab the front of his robes and pull him
closer. He felt his clothes pull slightly up and down as she giddily jumped in place.

“Hermione, mind explaining why you’re so happy all of a sudden?” asked Harry after placing his
hands firmly on her shoulder, keeping her grounded.

“Harry, look around the room.”

He did as he was told. Ron and Luna watched on as Harry scanned the area, his eyes darting from
object to object in hopes that he would find *anything* that would prove that Hermione wasn’t
delusional.

Eventually Harry’s eyes led him back to Hermione’s face. She was staring at him, anticipating a
burst of joy when he realized what had happened. It reminded him of a child who was about to reveal
her secret in an explosion of excitement.

Harry glared at her with a raised eyebrow. “Hermione, I give up. What is it?”

“The rooms Harry! The rooms!” she squealed as she began hopping again.

“What about them?” asked Ron, his head spinning as he tried to understand what was so special
about their sleeping quarters. However, a light bulb went off in Harry’s head, and he quickly
reciprocated Hermione’s bone-crushing embrace, cheering loudly and spinning her around, her feet
inches away from knocking over the chair he had been sitting in.

“Is this another one of your guys’ inside jokes?” Luna asked Ron as she stared at the two
friends in their jubilation.

“Not any I know of,” mumbled Ron truthfully out of the side of his mouth.

“It must have happened---“ started Harry.

“---Yes! When we were in the field, there was no one here so---“

“---So that’s why there are four rooms now---“

“---everything is back to normal---“

“---Oh wow! That must mean---“

“---We no longer have to---“

“I hate it when they do this,” whispered Ron, shaking his head but not moving his gaze. Luna
giggled.

“---Oh, Harry, this is such good news!”

“Yes, it is!”

Harry picked Hermione up and started to spin her around again, her face buried into his
shoulder, muffling her laughter.

“EXCUSE ME!”

Ron’s sudden outburst caused the spinning duo to cease their celebration. Blushing furiously,
Harry set Hermione back down on her feet and took a large sidestep away from her. He had totally
forgotten in his excitement that there were other people in the room.

“Now what the bloody hell are you two on about?” Ron asked, limping towards the room Hermione
was previously approaching but failing to make it all the way there, opting to half-sit on a
counter in order to prevent himself from outright falling down. He peered back towards his original
destination before looking back at Harry and Hermione. “What happened to the rooms?”

Hermione took a seat next to Luna. “Luna, have you ever been in a magical tent like this one
before?”

The younger witch was alarmed by her sudden inclusion in the conversation of the room. “Well,
actually…”

“Yes yes, you are right,” interrupted Hermione, getting up from her seat and exploring another
one of the new curtained spaces which had literally spawned from thin air. “They are adaptive, and
as such, we have changed to a more comfortable four person arrangement after having a
one…err…two-person arrangement for so long. Sorry if we scared you with that outburst and such
Luna…”

“Actually, I was…”

Hermione giggled and ran to investigate the outside of another room, grabbing the zipper and
running up and down along its track. “It’s just…we are happy that things are back to…the way they
should be!”

Ron sighed and smiled. “That’s good, I’m glad that you…”

“I wasn’t talking about you,” Hermione mumbled angrily, a yellow feather shooting inadvertently
out of her wand and landing on Ron’s left shoulder, which elicited a shiver of fear from deep
within him. “Oh no, things will definitely not be *normal* between us for quite some time,
Ronald Bilius Weasley, if ever.”

Hermione, her bipolarity of the moment seeming to settle in favor of anger, stomped out of the
room without saying another word, her damp robes sliding slowly like a slug behind her as she
disappeared into one of the new sleeping quarters in the farthest corner of the room.

“Blimey, make a joke and she explodes,” Ron muttered to himself as Harry approached him.

Consolingly, Harry gave Ron a pat on the shoulder. “She’ll come around mate, just give her
time.”

He smiled weakly back at his bespectacled best friend and let out a fierce yawn. “I hope for my
sake that she does. I don’t think I can stand another furious barrage from her…I wouldn’t be
surprised if there are swarms of Death Eaters coming our way with the ruckus she was making.”

The smile fell off Harry’s face as soon as the words left his mouth. Reflexively, he flicked his
wand and dimmed the lights in the room to the point that he could barely make out the dark shapes
of the furniture in the area. With another swipe and incantation, the walls briefly shined a bright
green, a slight rush of wind indicating that the protective charms of the tent had been
reinforced.

“Paranoid much, mate? It was only a joke,” whispered Ron as he tried to make his way back to the
center of the room, instead banging his knee against the table clumsily. The noise caused Luna to
yelp in surprise, her statuesque trance temporarily disrupted.

“When it comes to Voldemort,” Harry whispered back, no hint of humor in his voice, “there is no
joking around.”

As Harry sat down across from Luna and Ron silently, he turned his attention to the weapon
residing on the counter nearby. The bit of illumination emitted from the low, rustling flame that
heated the tent seemed to all be magnified in the swords polished blade. The reflections, Harry
thought, made it seem as if the sword were ablaze.

Silence filled the air as the trio of friends stared at the ancient artifact. Ron was the first
to speak.

“Now that we have that, what do we do next?”

Harry could not answer Ron. It had been a miracle that led Harry to the sword and consequently,
the destruction of the locket, but now they were once again out of clues. Sure, they now knew
*what* another one of the Horcrux’s was, but that information was useless without knowing
*where* Ravenclaw’s diadem was. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temple slowly, trying to
replay the events of the day in his mind.

In the span of twenty-four hours, he had almost killed himself swimming in ice cold water, been
reunited with and saved by the friend that betrayed him, gained a new ally because he was
responsible (although not directly) for her being put on a death list, found an ancient sword by
following a stranger’s patronus which could have led him straight into a trap set by Voldemort,
destroyed a portion of the soul of the most vile wizard who ever lived, and managed to remain
neutral in the pseudo-break-off of his two closest classmates. Not to mention the always present
stress of having the fate of the world rest solely on him, the notion that death faced him around
every corner, and that the longer he took to finish his quest, the more people would lose their
lives.

But none of that could compare to the idea that he had almost lost Hermione. Harry felt
unexpected tears well up behind his closed eyelids as the image of her lying limp and helpless in
the snow came back to him. If he had lost her…

Harry took a deep breath. He did not want to think about it. For now, he was just thankful that
the light’s were too dim to see the single tear that escaped his bloodshot eyes as he repressed the
notion out of his conscience.

“Harry?”

Retaining his composure, Harry’s head slowly turned towards the feminine voice that called his
name from across the table. Even through the darkness, it seemed as if Ron and Luna’s gaze had
shifted towards him, although Harry could not read their expressions to see if they realized his
mental turmoil.

“Yes, Luna?”

“If there is anything I can do to help, anything at all, I am here for you,” said Luna, her
lackadaisical voice and lack of a corporeal figure in the black of the room making it seem as if a
disembodied angel was talking to him.

“Same here mate, I’m right behind you from here on out,” added Ron, his voice filled with
uncharacteristic seriousness.

The words from his companions seemed to temporarily push back Harry’s fears, replacing them with
hope. Although the odds were stacked against them, he knew that they would not go down without a
fight. They now had the tools to finish the quest to destroy the Horcruxes, and with his fellowship
together once again he found no words to express the gratitude he felt towards each and every one
of them.

He hoped that despite the darkness, they could see the grateful smile that was plastered onto
his face.

“Thanks you two, that means a lot to me. I promise that if we ever…”

But Harry never had a chance to finish his sentence. A high pitched shriek echoed in the tent,
the source of the noise seeming to be from behind the tan, canvas curtains of a small bedroom in
the corner furthest away from the dining room table.

**A/N**: Ok, saying that a new chapter is overdue is kind of the understatement of the
century, but to all my readers (who I hope are still out there) I am not dead. Just finished my
first semester of college and it REALLY sucks up your time, but hopefully I can write a little bit
more this time around. Now this chapter was half-written before my hiatus, so the quality is quite
possibly horrid compared to my old stuff, but I hope it is still enjoyable to someone out there.
Also, it has been several months since I have touched DH, so any inconsistencies (besides the
Voldemort taboo…that one I have explained before :P) let me know please so I can adjust the story
accordingly!

-Wilkes-



12. The B Word
--------------

**Chapter 12: The B Word**

*Hermione screamed as loud as she could.*

*Releasing her frustration orally was the easiest way she could think of to try to process the
multitude of emotions trapped inside her skull at the moment. Despite the long winded (and
deservingly violent, she added) “talk” she had just had with Ron, the anger which flared inside of
her at the very thought of her ex…whatever they were made her skin crawl. Thankfully, the pillow
which she had grabbed as soon as she had sealed the entrance flap to her room provided enough of a
muffler such that her frustration would not alarm her friends in the other room.*

*Tossing her mute on her bed, she swiftly changed into her nightgown before falling onto the
mattress herself. The events of the day had been simply too much for her fragile body to handle,
and nothing sounded better to her than to sleep off all her worries. Sprawling out while grabbing
for some sheets to wrap around herself, Hermione closed her eyes and waited for slumber to take her
away into her dreams.*

*That was until she realized that something wasn’t right.*

*That was until the color drained from her face as realization dawned on her.*

*That was until she sat up and quivered,*

*That was until she screamed as loud as she could...*

************************************************************************

“*LUMOS!*”

Suddenly, the tent was illuminated by two bursts of shining white light. As soon as they had
heard the scream, Luna and Ron shot up from their chairs and prepared for the worst, their seats
falling to the floor with a thunderous crash.

“HERMIONE!?” Ron screamed, the beam shining from his small, crooked wand casting a dim sphere of
light around the area surrounding her room. The shallow light of his spell disappeared just as
suddenly as it had been summoned as the tent was suddenly ablaze in the glow of flames.

Ron turned around swiftly, the sudden change in brightness alerting him to the threat of
incoming danger. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Luna, now fully attentive, glancing at
the backside of the tent for any signs of intrusion. He did a quick scan of the area surrounding
them. Indeed, there had been no signs that their privacy had been compromised from what he could
see. The fire that Harry had quenched moments earlier was now burning vividly, which caused Ron to
release a fraction of the breath he was holding. That meant that their lodging hadn’t been torched
from the outside, but it still didn’t explain what had caused Hermione to cry out like she did.
Eager to find out the source of the commotion, Ron motioned to head back towards Hermione’s room
before a gentle squeeze on his arm caused him to about face.

“Ronald, look! It’s gone!”

Not wanting to waste any time, Ron quickly turned toward the direction Luna’s finger was
pointing to. It was one of the many plain brown counters which separated the kitchen from the
dining room area, but there was something missing that had been there before. It took him a moment
before he realized exactly what was absent from the room.

Gryffindor’s sword was no longer on the counter.

The blood completely drained from his face. Literally a minute ago, the three of them had been
staring at the precious artifact, and now it was missing. Ron marched to where it had once been,
every nerve in his body prepared for an ambush. He peeked over the counter slowly, preparing a
stunning spell in the back of his mind. To his relief, all that greeted him on the other side was
the floor, stained black by the tracks of snowy boots.

“Harry!” Ron shouted, temporarily forgetting that any sudden noise could mean the end of him via
a flurry of red and green curses. “The sword…it’s gone!”

“…Harry?”

Ron’s exclamation was greeted by the shrill sound of metal piercing canvas. Fearing attack, he
dove under the long table they had been sitting at, grabbing Luna in midair, and hoping that the
shoddy cover provided by the piece of furniture would give them enough of an advantage to draw
first blood on any would-be intruders. Swiftly, he cupped one hand over Luna’s pleading mouth while
letting out a quiet hush, tilting his head slightly to the right so that he could take a peek at
the area the slicing sound had come from. From what he could tell, the sound had come from the same
area where Hermione had been resting.

Ron attempted to swallow the lump in his throat, beads of sweat cascading down his brow. The
hand holding his wand struggled to keep steady as he heard slow footsteps shuffle around the room.
His vision obstructed by the couch in front of him, he had no idea who was investigating the tent
on the other side of the room. For all he knew it could be a throng of Voldemort’s worst cronies
coming to execute him and his friends or perhaps just Hermione attempting to unleash more of her
rage at everyone around her.

He wasn’t too keen on either of those ideas at the moment.

“It’s alright,” Ron heard a familiar voice utter from somewhere beyond the velvet barricade in
front of him after another breathless minute. “We’re safe.”

“Is that you, Harry?” Ron yelled back forcefully.

“Of course it’s me, you bloke!” the voice shouted back at him. “Who else would it be?”

Ron did not allow himself the luxury of relaxing. As a matter of fact, he tensed up even more,
inadvertently putting more weight on the blonde haired witch under him, making her gasp against his
hand. “I’ve seen more than enough possessions today to know not to trust what I can’t see. How do I
know it is *really* you?”

“Ron, I know I said to be overly cautious, but even this…”

“PROVE IT!”

“Alright, alright! Your name is Ronald Bilius Weasley, son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Your
favorite quiddich team is the Chudley Cannons, your biggest fear is spiders, and sometimes while
you are sleeping you mumble about Madame Rosmerta, and from the way it sounds, your mum wouldn’t be
too proud of the dreams you have about her.”

Ron cringed, his face turning beet red. He felt his other hand jiggle as Luna giggled into it
for a moment before restraining herself.

Harry’s face suddenly came into view from above the sofa, a grin on his face.

“But you know, I promise I won’t tell Madame Rosemerta if you two want some alone time to finish
whatever the heck you two are doing down there. You do realize we have private rooms in this tent,
right?”

“What the ruddy hell are you on about?” Ron asked, his expression a mix of offense and
bewilderment.

The black haired teen simply pointed at him. He was obviously amused about something that Ron
was unaware of.

Taking a look underneath him for the first time since his desperation leap for cover, his eyes
met Luna’s blue orbs. Something in the far back of his mind was captivated by her eyes, but these
foreign thoughts dissipated as soon as he felt the vibration of Luna’s words as they came out of
her mouth mumbled into the palm of his hand. It was almost as if she wanted to say something to
him…

“What was that?” Ron asked her. (Despite it being the obvious thing to do, he didn’t lift his
hand off of her mouth so that he could hear her clearly.)

With a sigh, Luna caught Ron’s attention by moving her eyebrows up and down. As soon as she held
his gaze again, she moved her pupils downward towards her legs, hoping that Ron would get the
signal.

It wasn’t until Luna repeated this motion several times until Ron cautiously followed her gaze
downward. It was then that he realized why Harry found the scene so comical. Somehow, after
practically tackling Luna on his way under the table, he had winded up on top of her, straddling
her hips between his own knees. Aghast, Ron once again turned his gaze back to Luna’s face, her
gaze directed sideways as she started to blush. Indeed, Ron’s face somehow turned a deeper shade of
scarlet, a prospect that Harry found hard to believe as his friend’s face had never quite dulled
back to normal after turning crimson from the Madame Rosemerta comments. Ron’s head reminded him of
a pimple that was just about to burst.

By now, Harry lost all composer and was convulsing in powerful fits of laughter. Embarrassed,
Ron shot up from on top of Luna. Unfortunately, in his humiliation he had forgotten that they were
still under a short dining table and his head smashed into the bottom of the table with a
resounding *thud*! This in turn caused him to plummet back downward, his bottom slamming into
Luna’s stomach, causing her to wheeze as the little amount of air that Ron had allowed her to
breathe in careened out of her at an alarming velocity.

Barely able to stand up through his latest round of giggles, Harry somehow managed to squeak out
the incantation that allowed him to shift the table just enough so that his two companions could
escape from their own tangled bodies. As soon as the table noisily glided past them, taking the
benches that surrounded it with it, Ron rolled off of Luna as she finally was able to rejuvenate
her organs with a fresh supply of oxygen. Ron held out his hand and helped the young witch back to
her feet.

“Sorry about that,” Ron mumbled, his hands on his hips. He was trying his best not to come into
eye contact with either Harry or Luna, his face still glowing red in embarrassment.

“No problem, really,” said Luna, brushing the dust off of her robes, her breathing still a bit
jagged. “I don’t mind, when you are on top of me, but next time you mount me please try to be a bit
gentler.”

Ron’s face paled as he turned to look at Luna, who was already half-way across the room,
breezing past a hysterically laughing Harry without much acknowledgment of the entendre she had
just uttered. It took Ron a moment to regain his composure, and even longer for him to wait for
Harry to regain his.

*“And Hermione thinks I’m the immature one…”*

“So what happened? Have you seen Gryffindor’s sword anywhere?” Ron asked, panicking once again
as the idea reappeared in his brain. As he pivoted to see Harry in his entirety, he saw his best
friend brandishing the artifact in his hand, holding it between his thumb and index finger while
waving it in the air. The red head frowned.

“What the bloody hell are you doing with that thing?”

Harry looked at the sword, then back at Ron seconds later, shrugging. He ran his free hand
through his hair as he thought, trying to piece together the events of the last few minutes.

“To be honest, I really don’t know. It all happened really fast…I heard Hermione scream and all
of a sudden…it was like my body operated before my mind could tell it what to do. I was almost to
the door by the time her scream finished, the sword flying into my palm before I had even thought
about summoning it, much less taking out my wand.”

He grabbed his wand out of his shirt pocket, waved it around as if to show Ron that he was
telling the truth, and put it back into its original resting place.

“By the time I had reached the door and you guys had used your *lumos* spells, the flames
had spontaneously increased to their normal intensity, as if…” Harry sighed, shaking his head in
confusion. “Call me crazy, but I think the tent was helping me…helping us, I mean…did you or Luna
ignite the fires more and I hadn’t noticed?”

Ron shook his head, confirming Harry’s suspicions. He ran his hand through his hair again, the
familiar pain of his scar blending with the headache raging through his skull.

“Weird stuff,” agreed Ron, walking with Harry towards Hermione’s curtained room, a gaping hole
in the wall where Hermione’s doorway used to be. It seemed as if the canvas had been thoroughly
shredded in a flurry of powerful swings and jabs.

“*Bloody hell*, mate! Why didn’t you just unzip the door?” asked Ron as he kicked around
the hundreds of scraps that littered the floor, trying to estimate the damage.

Harry was once again unable to answer him at first. “I don’t know…it just seemed faster to do it
this way. It was almost…instinctual.”

“Well whatever it was, let’s hope we can patch this up somehow later or Hermione is going to
have to deal with quite the lack of privacy around here,” said Ron with a smirk. Harry was still
deep in thought, obviously trying to organize the jigsaw of questions which had suddenly developed
within his mind. “Geez mate, haven’t seen you so worried about anything before. You can calm down,
you said she was alright,” Ron added absentmindedly, brushing past Harry to join Luna inside
Hermione’s personal quarters.

Harry rolled Gryffindor’s sword in his hand as he stood outside of the bedroom, thinking about
the whole ordeal. Through all of his years at Hogwarts, he had learned a variety of spells to push
the boundaries of his physical abilities, but he had never witnessed anything like what had just
happened. The way his body reacted without his permission…the way he had performed without
thinking, making all the right decisions before he even realized there were decisions to be made.
It simultaneously amazed and frightened him. Vague memories of articles on unconscious magic were
scattered somewhere in his memory, probably from some ancient assignment he had ignored during his
younger years, but he could recall nothing of pertinence.

The only person who would know such information was sitting in the next room.

Sighing and making a mental note to ask Hermione about it later, he turned around and proceeded
into the now wide-open bedroom which his best friend had claimed as her own.

The scene inside the room sickeningly reminded Harry of a hospital. Hermione stared at the hole
Harry had just walked through, eyes unblinking and face pale. She was hugging her legs, her chin
resting on one knee as she leaned back on the headboard of the mattress she was sitting on. Luna
was also on the bed, prodding her wand into Hermione’s stomach with an air of deep interest.

“Luna!” yelled Harry, much harsher than he had intended to. “What are you doing to her? Cut that
out!”

“Just trust her mate,” Ron said from a leather armchair at the side of the bed as he frowned,
shaking his head at Luna’s peculiar actions. “Don’t ask, just trust her.”

Luna jabbed Hermione in the stomach a few more times, little tufts of air being released from
her lungs in tiny gasps as the younger witch continued her examination. Despite being Luna’s
pincushion, Hermione showed no signs of ever returning from her shocked state.

With one final poke, Luna brought her wand up to her nose and narrowed her eyes. Harry sat on
the bed on the side opposite of Luna, who was presently twirling a loose strand of hair and
mumbling to herself. The way she constantly turned her wand made it seem as if she was reading some
microscopic text off the narrow piece of wood. Harry watched on curiously until the tip of the wand
spat out a tiny green spurt of right.

“Well,” Luna said, putting her wand back in her pocket as she placed the back of her hand on
Hermione’s forehead. “She seems to be alive…”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean *seems*…”

“Mate, we’ve been there. Just…” Ron sighed as he smirked and shook his head. “Never mind. If you
don’t trust Doctor Lovegood over there check for yourself.”

Luna brought her hand back as Harry crawled closer to the center of the bed so that he was
kneeling in front of Hermione, who had yet to show any sign that she recognized he had even entered
the room.

Putting the sword he was still carrying to his side for the moment, Harry waved his hand in
front of Hermione’s line of sight, hoping that she would blink. However, the motion seemed to have
no effect on her. He sighed, wishing that her bloodshot eyes would show some sign of life.

“Hermione, it’s me, Harry. Can you hear me?”

There was no movement in the room as they waited for Hermione to respond. After a moment, she
turned her head just enough to look into Harry’s eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

“Can you tell me what happened here? We heard you scream…are you alright?” Harry inquired
calmly, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder as she continued to stare at him, a bit of color
returning to her face but her expression the same as it had been when he had first slashed his way
into the room.

Hermione’s pupils darted from side to side, back and forth between Ron, Luna, and Harry. Her
lower lip quivered as if she wanted to speak, but no sound exited her mouth. Apparently frustrated,
she buried her face into her knees again and mumbled something to herself.

Harry turned at first to Ron, and later to Luna, who both returned his helpless look with an
equally helpless shrug of the shoulders. Frowning, but determined nevertheless, he snuggled up to
Hermione and put one of his arms around her huddled form. He brought his lips only centimeters away
from her right ear.

“Hermione,” Harry whispered. He felt her shiver as the warmth of his breath brushed against her
cool flesh. “Whatever it was, you are safe now. We’re all here now. I’m here now. All you have to
do is just tell us what happened. Can you do that?”

Picking her head back up and taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded slowly. Harry smiled as he
pulled away from her. “Now what’s wrong?”

Hermione twiddled her fingers a bit as she tried to regain her cognitive abilities. Her mouth
shaking in minuscule opening and closing motions, she was finally able to utter a few soft
syllables.

“B…b…”

“B…B-what Hermione? Come on, just let it out.”

“Boggart? Did you see a boggart? That has to be it, she saw a boggart!”

“Bellatrix? Was she here?!”

“Was it Blibbering Humdingers?”

“Blibbering Humdin…you can’t be *serious*, Luna!”

Luna shrugged at Ron, who was staring at her in disbelief.

Harry silenced both of them with a glare before returning a comforting glance toward the girl on
the bed. It was then that Harry realized that Hermione was staring right at him, her expression now
serious. He tilted his head curiously, as if to ask her what was wrong. Making sure that she had
Harry’s attention and ignoring everyone else in the room, she mouthed one word to her
companion.

*Bed.*

As soon as Harry received Hermione’s message, his body set itself into motion. Using his right
hand as an axis, Harry picked up the sword with his free hand while simultaneously spinning off the
bed and onto his feet, his wand firmly grasped in his other hand as he completed his rotation. He
pointed both weapons at the bed, a signal to his two companions to follow suit.

“What’s wrong, Harry?” asked Luna as she circled around the mattress to join Ron and Harry on
the left side of the bed.

“She said ‘bed’,” Harry cried, instinctively checking his surroundings for any signs of danger.
“There is something wrong with the bed. Hermione, can you get off? Are you stuck?”

The once almost lifeless Hermione sighed, shaking her head. “*Sometimes*,” she thought to
herself, “*I’m surprised how Ron-like Harry can be”*

“The bed is harmless, put those things away before you hurt somebody.”

Stuttering, Harry slowly put his wand away, Luna and Ron following suit right after him. He was
glad that Hermione had regained the ability to talk, but now he was even more confused about the
situation than ever. The conflict of emotion was displayed perfectly in the awkward half-smile that
he gave Hermione.

Ron spoke the words that everyone else was thinking. “You screamed because you were afraid of
the bloody *be*...ow!” he said, his comment interrupted by the force of Harry’s foot crushing
his toes as quietly as possible.

“Erm…I mean, what exactly about the bed, Hermione?” Ron continued, scowling at Harry for the
searing pain in his foot.

After sending Ron a dirty look, Hermione turned to address Harry and Luna, continuing her
ignorance of Ron’s existence. “Look at this bed. Does something strike you as out of the
ordinary?”

The three standees spread out around Hermione’s bed, each investigating the piece of furniture
closely. After several minutes, the trio, sharing the same confused demeanor, gave up their
search.

“Alright Hermione, we give up. What’s wrong?” asked Harry, sitting down next to her on the
bed.

She sighed, shaking her head.

“Here. Lie down next to me.”

Hermione moved over as far as she could before sliding down the mattress so that she was laying
down completely, her toes several inches from the end of the bed. She tapped the right side of the
bed with her hand, signaling Harry to follow her previous order.

Determining that there was no other choice but to trust Hermione, Harry too let his body glide
down the smooth sheets until his head hit one of the several pillows scattered across the sleeping
area. He turned his head towards his bedmate, waiting patiently for the next instruction. Harry saw
that she was staring right at him, eyebrows raised.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Notice anything?”

“Well…I guess it’s a bit less comfortable than I remem---”

“No, Harry. Don’t you find it weird that, in a tent which creates individual rooms with single
beds for every person who is living in it, that two fully grown teenagers can *both* lie down
quite comfortably and with plenty of personal space…in the *same* bed?”

Harry thought about what Hermione had just said, a burst of anger spreading through his body.
Here he was thinking that she was about to be killed, and all the while she was complaining that
her bed was too *big*? Harry had had the unfortunate opportunity to hear Hermione scream in
terror more times than he would have preferred in his lifetime, and by far her most recent screech
had been the most chilling of them all.

And yet here she was, frozen in fear from the size of a *mattress*.

Harry scooted up so that he was now sitting, leaning on his two hands which were sprawled behind
his back. He glared at Hermione.

“You mean to tell me Hermione that all that commotion was because there is this minuscule detail
about your room which, by the way, many people would consider a *good* thing, bothered you so
much that you had to scream about it? Do you know the kind of panic you sent all of us into back
there?”

Hermione shot upright, scowling at Harry. “Are you honestly telling me that you have *no
idea* what this means?”

It was Harry’s turn to scowl. “Yes, I know *exactly* what this means Hermione, it means
that nothing is wrong. Absolutely NOTHING is…”

Only seconds after the words had left his mouth Hermione was in motion. Before Harry could
react, he felt the weight of Hermione’s body come crashing on top of him, causing both of them to
fall back onto the surface of the bed. Hermione’s elbows were buried in his ribs, holding him into
place.

“Hermione, what are you…”

“All of this means something *is* wrong, Harry! *Very* wrong. When the tent rearranged
itself, it should have created four *separate* rooms for *each* person. But look around!
Two chairs, two dressers…two EVERYTHING, Harry! And the bed…it’s *clearly* for two people,”
Hermione said, her grip on Harry’s shoulders tightening as fear crept back onto her face.

Harry gulped. “So that means…”

Hermione nodded. “Yes Harry. This isn’t my bedroom, this is *our* bedroom.”

**A/N**: Hmmm, this chapter was actually a wee bit shorter than I intended. Oh well. Sorry it
took so long to update, that should be about the average time it will take me to write a new
chapter since the proofing process is a bit longer since my beta no longer lives with me and since
I’m back at school now. Hope you all enjoyed it. Remember when I said this part of the story would
be a 3 chapter arc? Haha, yeah…that was a lie, as there are at least TWO more chapters…wait, maybe
three…gah, I don’t know anymore…we’ll see how time goes, but I already know what to write next so
keep checking for updates!

Oh, and I guess I should addendum here: I apologize for overly dense Harry. It is a bit over the
top, but hey, it got him in bed with Hermione, did it not ;)


And as a special note, thank you to everyone who voted for me in the competition! Getting third
place was more than I could ever ask for, especially with my first fic ever! You guys are the best
and thank you to all those other great Harmony writers out there for being the inspiration for me
to start writing my own.



13. Triangles
-------------

**Chapter 13: Triangles**

“Wait a minute, what do you mean by *‘our’* bedroom?!”

Ron hollered in hopes of stopping the inevitable “let’s-pretend-no-one-else-is-here”
conversation that his two best friends had become infamous for. Sure enough, both Harry and
Hermione’s heads jerked in his direction at his sudden outburst, their imaginary bubble of privacy,
which had been starting to form bursting before it had enveloped them in their own world.

He also noticed that they both wore the same surprised look, but even he could tell that it was
much more intense than the fear of an unexpected sound. Rather, their pale faces clearly showed
that they were feeling something more than just shock. It seemed as if they had just seen Death
itself.

“Well...” Harry started, stumbling over his words as his dread was slowly replaced with anxiety.
The circumstances surrounding their communal sleeping conditions were farfetched and ridiculous at
best and utterly unbelievable at worst. To be truthful, he himself had not become entirely
comfortable with their arrangement, but the fact that Hermione and he had come to a mutual
understanding helped him ignore the awkwardness of it all. At least she was in the same situation
that he was in. And, due to this convenient truth, nobody ever had to know about their secret.

*Especially* Ron.

Ron was now staring at him, eyebrows raised and awaiting an answer. For one of the first times
he could recall, Harry was unable to read what his friend was thinking. His heart raced, trying to
formulate an answer which didn’t start with “I’ve been sleeping with your girlfriend, mate!”

It was times like this, times of intense stress, where he would turn to Hermione. Hermione was
always there with an answer to every problem, and if not an answer at least some advice. So
naturally, Harry craned his gaze towards his other best friend. She was still staring at Ron,
biting her lower lip in thought. Harry could tell that she was nervous by the way he felt her body
shaking lightly against his own, her heart coordinating with his own as percussionists, pounding a
ceaseless cadence against his chest.

It was only after realizing this that he decided that talking to Ron and Luna about this matter
would be much easier, and a lot more appropriate, if Hermione wasn’t laying on top of him.

“Ron, I will answer your question, but first…uh, Hermione?”

“Huh?” Hermione said as her head snapped back to face Harry. She started to blush as she
immediately realized their present positioning. She had been holding down Harry with her elbows,
but when Ron had shouted she must have shifted unexpectedly, falling so that her chest was now
aligned with Harry’s.

Harry took a breath as he nodded slightly to her. “Yeah...”

Hermione rolled off Harry slowly and stood up for the first time since they had found her
comatose in her bed. She turned her back to the other three, trying to calm her nerves down and
wishing she could disappear and pretend Ron and Luna had never seen what they had just
witnessed.

Harry took the opportunity to try to delay yet another explanatory conversation. He would be
perfectly fine if he never had to explain *anything* ever again to *anybody*. Standing up
and picking up the sword, he walked towards Ron and Luna. The former of the two was still glaring
at Harry, a multitude of emotions held behind his stoic figure.

“Look,” Harry started quietly, looking Ron directly in the eye but showing no signs of
hostility. “It’s a very long story, and I promise to tell you everything…”

“What exactly has been going on here?” asked Ron, accusation accenting each word. Luna watched
the two carefully, concerned.

“Nothing, I swear! It’s just…” Harry paused. He was not a very good liar, but he was even worse
at making up excuses. “Like I said Ron, I will tell you everything, but you know, with
Hermione…um…well, she’s been through a lot today and I don’t think it would be a good idea to
pressure her into talking about this right…”

“No Harry, it’s alright. We might as well tell them now that it’s out there,” Hermione said,
causing Harry to turn around. The color had returned to her face, which made him feel grateful, but
on the other hand he did not like the fact that Hermione was tossing both of them directly into the
fire. He hoped that Ron and Luna could not see the fear that was beginning to spread through his
body.

“But Hermione---“

“Are you feeling better, Hermione?” asked Luna, interrupting Harry’s plea.

“Yes, thank you Luna, but I would like a glass of water before we continue,” she answered. The
fact that Ron was shooting both her and Harry dirty, piercing looks was not past her, but she tried
to avoid eye contact as she led the group back into the living room.

Harry watched as Hermione disappeared into the kitchen, himself and his other two companions
taking their former seats around the table. After carefully positioning Gryffindor’s sword so that
it was leaning against his chair, Harry slammed his head down so that it was resting on his
outstretched hands. The day seemed to drag on forever. For every extra second that he was
conscious, the more things seemed to go from horrible to worse. A part of him wished Ron had just
left him to freeze to death in that field. He wanted nothing more at the moment than to just give
into his exhaustion, and the fact that he could still feel the intensity of Ron’s gaze attempting
to wither a hole into the back of his head helped to affirm his decision to fall asleep right then
and there.

Unfortunately, his plan was interrupted as he heard the screech of the chair next to him grind
across the floor, indicating that Hermione had returned. He reluctantly picked up his head and put
on what he hoped was a convincing look of passivity. If Hermione could be confident about this, the
least he could do was feign the same.

Fatigued and apprehensive, Harry opened his eyes to a now obviously angry Ron. His eyes were
mere slits on his face, his expression scrunched as he continued to glare at his two friends
wearily. A part of Harry wanted to take his gaze off of Ron, but his memory told him that he had
seen this demeanor before. It was the same look he gave Krum at the Yule Ball, the same exact face
he made when he saw Hermione with McLaggen at Slughorn’s party, and most recently, it was the same
expression he was wearing when he had stormed out of the tent and abandoned them.

Was Ron…*jealous*?

Harry was snapped back into reality as he heard the distinct noise of ceramic hitting wood.
Hermione had drained her glass of water in one large gulp that could give Ron’s hasty eating habits
a run for its money. She hurriedly poured herself another draught from the plastic pitcher she had
brought from the kitchen, her hand shaking as she tried with all her might to maintain a collected
countenance. Harry was oddly calmed by the fact that Hermione was panicking also. Under different
circumstances, he would have been amused by Hermione not knowing how to solve such a trivial
matter.

“*If only this were a trivial matter,*” Harry thought to himself, pouring and consequently
downing his own cup of water.

“Drink anyone?” asked Hermione shakily as she poured herself a third glass. “I must say, for a
makeshift tent the water supply is quite…”

“Stop stalling and bloody tell us what is GOING ON HERE!” yelled Ron. The severity of his tone
caused Hermione to drop the pitcher she had been holding, the container bouncing off the table and
onto the floor, leaving a puddle by her feet which stained the rough ground an even darker shade of
brown. Luna muttered a swift cleaning spell as Harry reached down to pick up the now empty
pitcher.

“Well, I’ll just go fill this up…”

“NO!” Ron shouted, standing despite his injuries and pointing his wand at Harry. Sensing danger,
Harry immediately discarded everything he was holding and brandished his own wand, the soft thump
of the pitcher lost amidst the amounting intensity of the room.

“You better watch where you are pointing that thing, Ron,” Harry spat back coldly, anger flowing
through his veins.

“Not until I get the answers I deserve! All you two are doing is stalling…if this wasn’t a big
thing, why wouldn’t you just tell me out right, huh?” Ron retorted, jabbing his wand a tad bit more
on to Harry’s side of the table.

“And since when did you get to come along and start demanding things from us!” Harry shouted,
slamming his left hand on to the table and leaning over, his nose inches away from the red head’s.
“If I recall correctly, you should be lucky you are even here right now!”

“BOTH OF YOU STOP IT, RIGHT NOW!”

Hermione’s voice boomed as she stood up and moved to the head of the table, her wand threatening
to jinx either of the two boys. But neither moved, both of her best friends fuming at one
another.

“Stay out of this, Hermione,” Harry said out of the side of his mouth. He spun his wand between
his two fingers, every muscle in his body ready to respond if Ron tried to pull anything on
him.

“I will *not* stay out of this! People are dying outside and all you two can do is bicker
over something so irrelevant…”

“Irrelevant my *arse*!” interrupted Ron in disgust. “I see how it is, I leave and you just
can’t wait to jump into *his* bed…”

“What did you just say?!” Hermione cried, all rationality leaving her brain. She walked toward
Ron until her wand was snug securely into his throat. “How *dare* you, after what you did…HOW
DARE YOU!”

“Well if *that* isn’t it then why are you two acting so guilty?” Ron snorted, not backing
down despite Hermione’s threats. “Something is going on between you two and I don’t like not
knowing what it is!”

“How many times do I have to tell you until it gets through that thick skull of yours? There is
absolutely nothing going on between Harry and me!” Hermione shouted, shifting her body into a more
offensive stance.

“I JUST WANT ANSWERS!”

“YOU DON’T DESERVE THEM!”

“BACKSTABBER!”

“YOU’RE ONE TO TALK!”

“WHY YOU---“

“*Expelliarmus!*”

An aura of bright lights engulfed the trio as their wands flew out of their hands, the surprise
barely countering the flurry of jinxes which were about to leave their mouths. As both Harry and
Ron forced themselves to reach for their now disarmed weapons, a powerful pressure threw each of
them back into their chairs, magical ropes tying them down roughly. A muffled yelp escaped
Hermione’s lips as she too was thrown back and bonded to her seat, her eyes squinting in an attempt
to see where the sudden attack had come from.

“I think you all need to calm down a bit before you can get these back,” said Luna in her
signature voice, although her usual lackadaisical expression was now replaced with a serious face
much more akin to Hermione’s personality than her own.

“Luna! What the *bloody* hell?” Ron exclaimed as he attempted to stand up, attached chair
and all. “This has nothing to do with you, so just stay out of...”

Ron’s remark was silenced as Luna swirled her wand in the air, an increase in gravity causing
the redheaded boy’s seat to plummet back to the ground. A very audible zipping noise followed as
his lips became magically sealed, not even a hole for breathing left where his mouth had used to
be.

“*Especially* you, Ronald. We need to work on your anger management,” frowned Luna as she
laid down their wands on the table, well out of the reach of any of the three other wizards. Ron
gave her a death glare before resigning to his new fate as a manikin. She turned her attention to
Harry and Hermione sitting across from her, disappointment still painted across her face as she
shook her head. Harry was staring daggers at his captor, switching quick glances between his now
disarmed weapon and its supposed target. Hermione too sat silently, her gaze aimed away from Luna
in a blend of anger and frustration.

Luna sighed and took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She could still hear the sound of Ron
struggling to escape from his ropes, the soft clanging of the wooden seat legs intermingling with
the cackling of charring wood in the fire. Harry and Hermione remained expectantly resolute in
their internal brooding. A few hours ago she was afraid that intruding on the three friends would
hinder their progress in vanquishing Voldemort for good, but now for the first time she could begin
to understand the immense stress that the burden of their quest was taking on all of them, both as
individuals and as friends.

In school, Luna was always teased for her eccentric personality. She was taunted for being
gullible, her open-mindedness for the most extraordinarily unheard of things an easy target for
those who held social beliefs more in line with the status quo. The oddity of her behavior was
blatant to all around her, even to herself. But despite the insults of her peers...the pranks they
played on her, the nicknames they gave her...Luna sincerely did not mind. If there was one thing
she learned from her mother and father, it was that the entire notion of normality blinded society
from possibility. Although no one truly understood her, Luna’s free spirit allowed her to see more
than anyone else ever could.

Despite her nonchalant disposition, Luna had become exquisitely proficient at observing the
world around her. Her statuesque nature, taken by others as boredom or weirdness, served to hide
the fact that she watched the world with sentinel-like attention. While her classmates thought she
was staring off into space, she was carefully analyzing every detail of her surrounding
environment.

Like the rest of the Wizarding universe, Luna had grown up knowing of the mystique and legend
behind the Boy Who Lived. The stories of how Harry had subdued Voldemort had become convoluted with
the passing of time and through the natural ways of oral tradition, but Luna took in every tale as
if they were fact. She too, admittedly, was ignorant to the emotional turmoil that such a wretched
event must have had on the young boy’s heart, but like everyone else, she was raised to look up to
Harry Potter as some sort of heroic celebrity.

That was, until she actually met him.

It became apparent quickly that Harry did not want any of what destiny had given to him.
Although she had never been as close to him as some of the others, Luna found it easy to draw
parallels between her and the older wizard. They were both orphans to an extent, having lost
parents at a devastatingly young age, and although for quite different reasons, they both had
qualities which made them distinct from others their age. However, whereas Luna had a father who
loved her very much and the self-confidence to not care about how others perceived her, Harry
seemed to carry with him the angst and insecurity of a child who grew up alone. She had never
learned completely about Harry’s life before Hogwarts, but she could tell from the way he looked
longingly upon the Weasleys with a painted-on smile when he thought no one was watching, the way
his temper would build up and burst despite his efforts to maintain composure, and from his
reluctance for any help which would put his friend in jeopardy that underneath his strong exterior
was a soul bruised from an uncontrollable fate, suffering from a universe which was slowly taking
what little he had in life away from him.

It was a chilling discovery which made Luna sympathize with his plight, although in all honesty
she could not say she could begin to fully understand the immense weight on his shoulders. Even she
had to admit that her usual preference for making the best out of whatever life gave her would not
work in Harry’s case, and because of this she respected him for carrying on despite the prospect of
dooming the world following Harry wherever he went. But although he knew that death and failure was
not only a possibility but a probability, and despite the depression such an uphill battle must
have invoked within him, the Boy Who Lived managed to walk ever closer to his final meeting with
destiny.

However, despite the stress brought on by his unwanted celebrity, Luna noticed several instances
where Harry allowed himself to temporarily disregard his status, whether consciously or not. These
were the times Luna could tell Harry wanted to last forever, and they always seemed to revolve
around his two closest friends.

At first Luna did not like Ron Weasley as much as everyone else seemed to. Although he was
lighthearted and quick to lighten up a situation with his sense of humor, he suffered from terrible
fits of restlessness and was easily overcome with self-loathing. His lack of patience, tact, and
most of all, his jealous personality and ill temper (which, unfortunately, he never seemed to have
learned to control, even now...Luna took a moment to tighten the magical bindings surrounding his
body as he attempted to angrily escape from his chair) at first made Luna unable to see why he was
Harry’s best friend, besides convenience and proximity. Even being close friends with Ginny did
nothing to change her judgment of Ron’s character, as Ginny seemed to complain about the very
qualities Luna had come to associate with her brother. To be fair, it did not help that Ron seemed
to see her the way everyone else did: As a weird girl that was not worth much more than the
occasional raised eyebrow.

Luna opened her eyes and looked at Ron with a blank expression. He was focused on trying to
break free, his face turning redder in frustration as every attempt was met with tighter
restraints. Luna sighed as she increased the intensity of the spell holding Ron’s chair to the
ground, causing him to cringe. Despite his present mood, over the few years Luna had known Ron
personally she had softened up to him, and he to her. In truth, deep down Ron was a loyal friend,
but flawed in his humanity. Many would find his faults as negatives, but to Luna it made him
better-rounded. He cared for his loved ones just as much as Harry, and as of late it seemed as if
he was trying to become a better person. At the very least, Luna tried to keep an eye on his
character development. It kept her entertained.

Ron’s personality improvement was undoubtedly caused by his attempted courtship of their other
friend, Hermione. Of the entire trio, Luna was most confrontational with the bushy haired teen.
Perhaps it was because they were, at least in her opinion, foils of one another. Hermione based
everything in her life on facts and logic. If it was not proven by some scholar from hundreds of
years ago nor had several published works on the topic, there was no way it could be true. Her
narrow mindedness frustrated Luna at times. Despite their clashes of view, Luna still respected
Hermione as one of her closest friends. Sure, her rejection of Crumple-Horned Snorcacks and apathy
for anything printed in the Quibbler annoyed Luna, but she was as loyal as any person could be, and
thankfully for Ron and Harry, cautious. She was fairly certain both of the boys would have died
years ago if it was not for Hermione’s careful guidance. If not that, they would have most
certainly flunked out of Hogwarts if not for her. That she was certain of.

Together the three classmates embodied the strength of unity that could tackle any task thrown
at them. And indeed, over their years together at school they seemed to face an ever increasing
amount of unusual, oftentimes deadly situations which, together, they managed to get through. This
outstanding showing of friendship, cooperation, and action had earned them the nickname of “The
Trio” at school, as they were rarely seen apart. However, Luna, being the perceptive young witch
she was, did not regard them as everyone else did. While everyone else outside their circle of
friends saw them as one entity, Luna saw the power in their relationships with one another. She
noticed that others seemed to see Harry at the center of the group, with Ron and Hermione being
satellites revolving around him. Of course Luna found this summation to be quite odd and borderline
humorous. Rather, she saw the trio as a triangle, each line linking one of them to the other
two.

The weakest of these links, in Luna’s opinions, was the bond between Hermione and Ron. Although
still quite durable, it lacked the volume of the sides of her imaginary triangle which were
connected to Harry. Perhaps it was the fact the two were each too proud to let their bond come to
full fruition. Maybe their side would be stronger if they were not constantly bickering over
trivial matters. Or, as a part in the far back of Luna’s mind seemed to chime in, it may have been
the fact that they *were* trying to become closer that was weakening their relationship. Luna
frowned, scolding herself internally for thinking such things. She was not close enough to either
of the two to ever tell them face to face, but deep down she would never accept Ron and Hermione as
a couple. It just did not work nor make any sense! They were excellent friends, and no one could
deny the fact that loved each other very much, but as romantic interests? Whenever one of her
female classmates would babble about how cute and “perfect” they were for one another, Luna zoned
out, finding the conversation pointless and thus not worth her attention. Why listen to idle
conversation when there were possibilities to be discovered, her father always said! Admittedly,
even Luna did not know what that meant exactly, but it was better than having to listen to talk
about Ron and Hermione.

She wasn’t the only who seemed to be bothered by Ron and Hermione’s foray into the world of
love. Luna smirked and looked at Harry, who was still glaring at her, obviously still eyeing his
wand with his peripheral vision. At least *somebody,* to some extent, could see that their
relationship was not heading in the right direction, especially at such a crucial time where the
triangle had to remain intact for Harry to succeed. Hermione’s reaction to his arrival back at the
tent, while understandable, did nothing to change Luna’s mind about their coupling. Besides, Luna
did not believe the cliché argument that opposites attract and thus their fighting was merely an
expression of unexpressed longing. After all, that’s how the Sickled-Eye Krocotias became extinct
after the Ministry moved them all to Bellowsnout Horkender breeding grounds! Her father had always
been angry with the action, saying that they could never co-exist. That’s all the proof she
needed.

Ron needed someone who would balance him out. Someone who saw him for what he was and liked him
for it. Someone who could withstand his personality but also keep it in check. Someone who he would
not fight with or make cry because in truth he would have no reason to.

Someone like...

Luna shook the idea from her head. She was wandering on a tangent.

Her eyes glazed over as she lost herself in her thoughts again. At least the side of the
triangle which connected Ron and Harry seemed to be intact. If it wasn’t for their differences in
appearance, Luna would have sworn they were brothers. Ron was Harry’s guide to the wizarding world,
teaching him the basics which children surrounded by magic their whole lives seemed to take for
granted. It was plain to see that they loved each other very much, and that they held their kinship
very close to their hearts. Although they clashed from time to time, usually from Ron’s envy or
Harry’s temper, it only was skin deep. They were too similar to let such petty arguments get the
best of them, and indeed Harry had (eventually) welcomed Ron back into his quest after he had lost
hope. Their strength seemed to come from the fact that they were so similar, and Luna acknowledged
that they must have an abundant amount of trust with one another for them to be so cheeky with each
other so soon after their arrival.

Well, at least until this little blunder occurred. Maybe the trust was much more internal than
either of them realized.

Luna snapped back to the present at a sudden noise and a wind of movement came rushing towards
her.

“*Descendo!”*

Harry growled as his attempt to grab his wand was foiled by Luna’s quick spell casting. For the
first time, Harry regretted heading the DA, where she undoubtedly was trained by him to be so swift
in her reactionary sorcery. Luna frowned at Harry as she tucked her wand behind her ear once again,
which caused her cowbell earring to jingle as it swayed from side to side.

Perhaps they were *too* similar.

Hermione looked at Harry in disappointment, shaking her head at his futile attempt. When he
finally met her gaze, he shrunk his eyes in annoyance. Luna watched as he returned her stare of
contempt with what she could only assume was a shrug, the ropes restraining the muscles which were
required for a proper version of the motion.

Although Ron was an important piece of Luna’s metaphorical triangle, by far the side which was
holding the entire shape together was shared between Harry and Hermione. She glanced at the two,
sitting next to one another and tied to their chairs, neither of them looking too happy in their
present situation. She had never noticed before that they always seemed to sit to next to one
another. Luna tilted her head and made a mental note of the fact.

It was easy, at least for Luna, to see why everybody thought they were dating. Truth be told,
their relationship seemed years beyond any bond held by two people around their age. Luna found
herself watching over their interactions more than anything else. She was fascinated and awed. The
way they cared for one another...the way they would do anything for each other without ever
consciously acknowledging it...it made them seem like they needed no one else. And perhaps this was
true. Although she presumed, and as Ron had constantly told her in the cave, that they would be
bitter at first about Ron’s return, him having abandoned them and all, she could tell from the way
they looked at him and the subtle undertones of their words that they were not complete without
him. She had even heard Harry say that they were not the same without him there, and that may be
true, but somehow they had managed to get by for weeks by themselves. Instead of giving up, they
persevered, relying only on one another. The trust and faith that must have taken was
brilliant...

*“No,”* Luna corrected herself. *“It’s beautiful.”*

It was like they had come to some deep understanding of one another, some unspoken bond which
allowed them to feed off one another’s existence.

It almost seemed that if the world disappeared neither of them would care as long as the other
was safe. That was all they needed to move on.

It seemed almost as if they were in...

“So are we just going to stare at each other all bloody day or will you let us *breathe*
already, Luna?!”

Hermione’s sudden outburst caught Luna off guard. She had totally forgotten where she was, but
now she could not remember what she was even thinking of either. She felt she was on the verge of
some revelation, but now it did not matter. For now, she had to deal with more immediate
concerns.

“Yes,” she responded lightheartedly, “But I think you should all stay restrained for now. None
of you seem to be entirely sane at the moment.”

Ron rolled his eyes, the irony of “Looney” Luna calling anybody less than normal not lost on
him. He would have guffawed if he still had the privilege of having a mouth on his face.

“Well with the way Ron is acting, I don’t think we have to tell him anything,” Harry said
coldly. He turned to Hermione to affirm his decision to shun their friend, but to his surprise she
seemed to be pondering something. She sat quietly, her pupils vibrating from side to side as she
bit her lip. Harry knew that look. It meant that Hermione was about to disagree with him.

Luna opened her mouth, but it was Hermione who was first to speak.

“Well, I don’t think that’s best, Harry,” Hermione said as she wiggled in her chair, trying to
find a comfortable position amongst the ropes that bound her. Harry sighed. He knew Hermione too
well. For once couldn’t he just be mad at somebody without her trying to bring him to back his
senses? Ron stopped struggling in his seat long enough to see where Hermione was going, but dared
not to look either her or Harry in the eye.

“As much as I absolutely loathe the arse,” she turned her head to send Ron a sneer, which he
returned with a roll of the eyes. Harry thought Hermione looked ready to spit at him in contempt.
Instead, she just shook her head and rubbed her temple. “I can tell that he isn’t going to leave us
anymore.”

For a split second Harry wanted to argue with Hermione. He wanted to disregard her view and
distrust the man who had abandoned them so very recently. However, he could not bring himself to do
it. As hard as it was for Harry to put aside his temper, he knew that Hermione was right. Wasn’t it
just a few hours ago that he was ecstatic that Ron was back, ensuring him that Hermione would come
to agree with *him*? He could hear Hermione’s voice in his mind telling him repeatedly that he
wasn’t being rational. Harry gave up.

“So what does that mean?”

“It means,” Hermione paused to swallow the lump in her throat. “It means we tell him...”

“Everything! Right then, let’s get started,” Luna cut in happily. Hermione managed to smirk
half-heartedly as she resigned herself to an explanation she knew in her heart that Ron would never
accept.

“Fine,” Harry grunted after a moment. “But before we start, do you mind getting us out of these,
Luna?”

Luna looked at Harry and smile, grinning. “Do you promise to behave yourself?”

“Yes, now away with these!” Hermione answered for him.

Luna nodded as she waved her wand, their bindings disappearing into the nothing they had come
from. They all took a deep breath, their lungs now able to take in as much precious oxygen as they
needed. With another swing of her wand, Luna resummoned Ron’s mouth. He opened and closed his jaw
several times, trying to remember the necessary motor skills needed to communicate verbally.

“Thanks, Luna,” Ron muttered, now stretching out his arms. “Now, how about my damn
explana---“
“I think, Ronald,” Luna interjected. He looked at her in surprise, not expecting the wide-eyed,
serious glare she was giving him. “That you should hear their story before you say something you
might regret.”

He gulped. She still looked like the Luna he had known for several years, but her face made her
seem as if she was possessed by a demon. The juxtaposition of such an otherworldly expression on
such a cherubic body was enough to subdue Ron’s aggression. He relaxed, leaning his body on the
back of the chair as he sat wondering when he had become so afraid of girls.

Harry waited until Luna seemed content with Ron’s attitude before leaning over to whisper into
Hermione’s ear.

“You sure this is for the best?” he asked her nervously.

“It’s better than having him think we’ve been sleeping with each other for the past couple of
weeks behind his back, especially when we need him to find the rest of the Horcruxes,” she
whispered back quickly.

“Are you ready?” Luna asked, twirling her wand. Ron looked at the two intently, his face blank
and anxious.

Harry glanced at Hermione, then at Luna and Ron. He knew that this was a necessity, but it did
not mean he had to like what was about to happen. As if on cue, Hermione placed her hand on his leg
under the table, tapping it lightly in reassurance. At least he didn’t have to do this alone.

The four of them sat around the creaky dining table, occasionally casting stray looks at one
another, as finally Hermione opened her mouth to explain how she had ended up sleeping in Harry
Potter’s bed.

**A/N:** I’m not dead! Hurray! Anyway, so this chapter realistically had *nothing* in
the way of plot progression, yet it is one of the longest chapters to date. Funny how that happens,
but I felt it very important to develop Luna’s character as I felt she deserved more depth. Sorry
about the wait, but stay tuned for the next chapter where (hopefully) I can end this bloody
arc!



14. Mistakes Repeated
---------------------

**Chapter 14: Mistakes Repeated**

“To start off, I want to let it be known that everything Harry and I have done since you left us
has had a very practical and sound reasoning behind it.”

Harry listened intently to the beginning of Hermione’s defense. The scene was disturbingly
reminiscent of being tried at the Winzengamot. Although he knew in his heart that they had done
nothing wrong, the intensity in which Ron was looking at them made him feel like they were
criminals.

“Well, despite the strain it was putting on us because a certain *someone* left us to fend
for ourselves,” Hermione paused, letting her not-so-subtle snub rattle around inside Ron’s head for
a bit, “we were continuing having one of us out on watch at all times.”

As if on cue, all eyes turned toward the canvas flap which served as the entrance to their
housing. Even though Hermione had just implied that it was best if someone was acting as guard at
all times, the fact that all of them were awake at the moment offered enough security for them to
be having this discussion without fear of intrusion.

“One day as I was in the tent alone cooking our dinner, I started to feel fatigued. My previous
shift had been during a particularly violent snow storm, and I suppose the exposure along with the
constant stress had just been too much for my body. To put it simply, I had fallen ill.”

Harry could see Ron’s face start to break into concern, but he somehow managed to retain his
determination in being suspicious until he heard the full story. It was instead Luna who inquired
as to the intensity of Hermione’s sudden sickness.

“Was it anything serious?”

“No,” Hermione answered, shaking her head. “Just a simple fever and cough, but at the time I
just needed to rest. So I went to bed early.”

“That really doesn’t explain how you ended up...”

Ron’s outburst was interrupted as he felt something sting his kneecap, the intensity not much
greater than that of a static shock. Confused, he looked under the table to try and find the source
of the sudden sensation. He failed to find anything out of the ordinary. Giving up, Ron turned his
attention to the conversation at hand. It was Harry who continued.

“I came in later that night after my watch had ended and realized that Hermione was not awake.
It was about midnight and usually when I have the early morning guard we take a few minutes
in-between to discuss our plans for the next day. Naturally, I was concerned,” Harry said
matter-of-factly. Luna nodded, her eyes asking him politely to continue. Ron’s look had begun to
soften, probably unintentionally.

“She left me a note saying that she was sick, so I checked on her and realized that even under
all her covers she was still shivering. I’ll be honest; I didn’t really know what to do. I just
assumed that she needed more warmth, so I threw all my covers from my cot on top of her. It seemed
to work,” Harry conceded with a shrug, wholeheartedly believing that anyone else would have done
the same in his position. He took a moment to turn to Hermione and smile comfortingly at her. He
didn’t know why he did it, but for some reason Harry knew that it was the right gesture. She, in
turn, returned a grateful grin of her own before something on the table seemed to grab her
attention away from his face.

Harry shifted his eyes to see what she was looking at, but he found nothing of interest.
Bewildered, he averted his gaze back to the girl sitting next to him and tried to read the emotions
on her face. What he saw confused him even more.

*“Is Hermione...blushing?!”*

Harry couldn’t understand why Hermione’s face had suddenly turned pink and why she couldn’t look
at him eye to eye. Had he said something embarrassing? Either way, he had to divert his attention
away from her. Seeing her blush was making him blush for some reason.

“Can we get to the point al...”

Ron’s second interjection was ended prematurely as another sharp feeling spread through his leg,
this one as painful as a bee sting. Frustrated, Ron slid his chair back as he bent over and stuck
his head under the table. Harry and Hermione looked on at Ron’s sudden paranoia with a quizzical
expression.

“What are you doing, Ronald?”

His head popped back from under the table as he dragged his chair to its original position,
obviously flustered.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. So she was sick, then what?”

“Well after that...” Harry trailed off, choking on his words. For the life of him, he could not
fathom the correct combination of words to explain why he had climbed into bed with Hermione. There
was no way that Ron would believe that he had done it for survival, like Hermione had decided the
reason was. Even Harry himself had trouble believing that was a good enough explanation. What he
needed was a scapegoat.

“There was a hole.”

Harry turned toward Hermione, surprised at her remark. She was sipping her water nonchalantly,
her entire posture emanating confidence. He had seen this before. To any other person her
matter-of-fact tone would have reflected an attitude of relaxed honesty, but years of being her
acquaintance had allowed Harry to see through the façade. This meant only one thing.

Hermione had a plan.

“You see, Harry donated all his sheets to me and realized that even with all his layers on it
was still frigid in here. Too frigid, even,” Hermione explained, shivering a bit. Whether or not it
was for theatrics Harry could not tell, but it somehow added to the authenticity of her
performance.

It was his turn to take the stage, despite having no idea where Hermione was taking this.
Admittedly, being a realistic liar was not one of his strong points. “Right. It wasn’t until after
I had settled Hermione down that I discovered the problem.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the left side of Hermione’s lips twitch into a miniscule
smile that lasted a moment, the gesture an unspoken volley of praise and approval. The small
movement elicited a jolt of...*something* through his stomach and up his neck. Harry was
filled with a small amount of pride that he had caught on so quickly to her scheme, which in turn
allowed him to carry on their lie with determination. He paused for a moment, choosing a spot
slightly beyond Luna’s right ear to stare at so it seemed he was reminiscing about some distant
memory.

“I was preparing to sleep in my cot when I noticed, even through the extra layers I had put on
to compensate for the loss of my blankets, that there was an abnormal chill coming into the room.
At first I thought I had left the front flap open, but when I checked I realized that it was
properly sealed as usual. That’s when I found the hole.”

Hermione nodded in agreement, happy that Harry picked up on her non-verbal signals. He had an
eerie way of always knowing what she was thinking, and she had always been secretly proud of the
fact. It was a rare talent that she knew she would never share with anyone else.

Ron’s face started to contort with suspicion. He had known Harry and Hermione long enough to
know that something was amiss. However, before he could even send the signal to his mouth to
vocalize his wariness a violent shock hit his exposed knee, causing him to yelp in pain.

“OW! What the bloody---“

“So there was a hole?” filled in Luna casually as Harry and Hermione stared at the confused and
fuming Ron.

“Yes...” Harry started, one eye still locked cautiously on the now silently brooding red headed
teen across from him. “It had been hard enough trying to stay conscious through the last leg of my
watch, so I knew that my body was going to collapse at any moment...”

“But with the way the temperature was that night, sleeping without any covers would have been
just asking for an illness. Losing one day of movement due to being bedridden might have been just
enough time for You-Know-Who to catch up to us, as I’ve said before.”

Ron grunted affirmatively. He could not debate the fact that time was of the essence and that
every move to a new location was necessary to remain hidden. Hermione had always reminded him of
the fact whenever he insisted to stay at one spot for more than a day.

Hermione paused, glad that Ron had nothing to debate at the moment. It meant that even though
their story was based on a fib, they had enough factual evidence to make it seem plausible.
Granted, tricking Ron was not exactly the hardest thing to do in the world, but she took comfort in
the fact that logic once again provided an answer to their problems. It made her proud to be such a
book-worm. She waited for Harry to continue where she had left off, and sure enough, it wasn’t very
long until his voice filled the room once again.

“That put me in a dilemma. Like Hermione mentioned earlier, your room was no longer an option
with it disappearing after you left and all. I tried to cozy up next to the fire but even that
wasn’t good enough. So the only other option was to try to stay awake, but I sincerely could not
keep my eyes open for more than a minute without dozing off. I had no idea what to do, so I thought
to myself, ‘What would Hermione do?’” Harry paused, giving Luna and Ron time to draw their own
conclusions.

Hermione also took a moment to think what she would have done if she were in Harry’s situation.
To be honest, sharing a bed with Harry would have been at the end of her list of solutions, but for
the life of her she could not add anything else to that list. She frowned to herself for being
stumped. It really *was* a dilemma.

Ron thought about saying something snide about how that was a convenient excuse for him to
weasel into bed with Hermione, but part of his mind told him to remain silent. Even though he did
not know how his body was being shocked, he bet that any attempt by him to interrupt his friends’
story would result in extreme pain.

“So yes, in short, the best solution was to share a bed for one night,” Harry concluded, letting
out the breath he had been holding. It felt as if a massive burden had been lifted from his
shoulders. He turned his gaze towards Ron, who seemed to be deep in thought. For the moment, at
least, it seemed as if their story had been good enough for his anger to subside. Now, all Hermione
and he had to do was survive the expected wave of follow up questions.

“Show me.”

Harry was confused by Ron’s vague statement.

“Come again?”

“I want to see it.”

“See what?” Hermione responded this time, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

With their story seemingly complete, Ron took it upon himself to conduct his own investigation
into the validity of their story. Even though the problem was plausible, the solution was too
ridiculous to believe. There was no way that Hermione would allow such an inappropriate event to
occur between herself and her so called “platonic” friend. Sure, she had remained unfazed in their
fourth year while Rita Skeeter convinced all their peers that they were dating, but back then there
was no basis to the journalist’s claims. This was different. They were admitting that they had
shared a sleeping situation *voluntarily.* It would be impossible for anyone *not* to
assume they were intimate in one shape or another from such an action. Thus, Ron was determined to
find the wrinkle in their alibi.

“You said there was a hole in the tent that led you into sleeping to...sharing a bed, yes?” Ron
inquired.

“Yeah...” Harry trailed off, apprehensive that Ron was questioning the only part of their story
which was fabricated.

“Prove it, show it to us.”

Harry gulped. Before, he had been so confident in his storytelling. Now he had no idea what he
was supposed to say. Hermione had failed to relay any psychic instruction on what to do if Ron had
asked for physical evidence. Should he say that they had fixed it? Should he try to lead the
conversation away from the non-existent tear in their housing? There seemed to be an infinite
number of paths he could take their lie, but one wrong phrase and their whole story could fall
through.

“Hmm, yes I’d like to see it too,” Luna added after a moment. Ron quickly looked at her with a
raised eyebrow. For the past couple of hours she had been the arbitrator in the quarrel, but now it
seemed that she too realized the oddity of Harry and Hermione’s explanation. Ron never considered
Luna to be a skeptic.

“Well, you see the thing is...” Harry’s voice was drowned out by an obviously forced cough, his
capability to maintain his composure reaching a dangerous low. An image of Hermione shaking her
head disappointingly flashed into his mind. If he was trying to convey any sort of confidence, he
was failing miserably at it. It did not take long before Ron picked up on his weakness.

“Hah! I knew it!” Ron sneered, leaning across the table and squinting his eyes while waving an
accusatory finger between the two defendants. “You are lying!”

“No, I swear,” Harry said feebly. He knew they were cornered.

“Really Harry, stop being so melodramatic and just show them,” Hermione stated softly. Both
Harry and Ron turned to her. They had the same surprised look plastered across their faces.

“Err---,” Harry started, dumbfounded. “Uhh...are you sure?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. She looked at the two of them as if they had forgotten some obvious
fact they had learned in one of their classes. Harry was impressed. He never knew that she was such
a convincing actress.

“Yes, go ahead Harry, you can show us,” added Luna, smiling encouragingly. She patted Harry’s
hand as if he was having a deep internal conflict as to whether or not to show them the supposed
hole in the tent.

“Alright,” Harry said dejectedly, standing up from his seat. He scratched his head, failing to
hide his confusion. “It’s just, you know, right over there...no, over there...”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, Harry,” interrupted Hermione, irritated. It really seemed as if she felt
the hole in the tent actually existed. Harry’s eyes followed Hermione as she slid out of her chair
and made her way towards a small bookshelf in-between her room and Harry’s now empty old room. She
gingerly placed her hands on the side of the piece of furniture.

“As you can see,” she said before pushing the furniture roughly. The old shelf creaked as it
glided harshly across the floor. With a wrenching squeak it came to a stop, the contents of the
bookshelf coming to a dust-ridden halt as they leaned the opposite way from the force of the
movement. Hermione took a moment to brush her hands against her pants, the dirty shelf having left
a thin layer of grey on her alabaster skin.

“Here, Ronald, is your hole.”

Ron had to crane his head to the right a bit to see exactly where Hermione was pointing, but
sure enough in the middle of the shadowy canvas wall a golf ball sized rip marred the once perfect
lining of their shelter. Ron frowned. This almost certainly meant that to some extent their story
held credence. Harry did his best to prevent his jaw from dropping in shock.

“To answer your next question,” she continued, strolling across the room like a professor in
front of a chalkboard, “we have no idea how it got there. It was probably just wear and tear from
having to destruct it so often, heaven knows how old this thing is, but that’s beside the point.
Since conventional Muggle repair techniques would be inadequate for a magical lodging such as this,
we could not simply patch it up. Harry wanted me to use magic to repair it, but since I strictly
forbade excessive spell casting outside of the protective charms that was not an option. Up until
today we have been in high risk locations. It’s all in the log if you need further proof.”

Ron sighed, raising his hands in concession. When they had first started their journey, Hermione
made it a point to drill into their heads the importance of refraining from using too much magic.
With Voldemort’s cronies lurking practically everywhere, they had to make certain that no trace of
their location could ever be tracked. Even the smallest of spells could leave enough magical
residue to prove their existence. That was why one day she had taken a map and had color
coordinated the entire country according to how much magic they could use based off of known
wizarding density. Ron remembered the so-called “high risk” zones vividly. They were a deep shade
of scarlet red, almost the color of blood.

Ron was pretty sure that Hermione was exaggerating the extent of the Dark Lord’s tracking
capabilities (he was pretty sure the only reason she wouldn’t let him use a cleaning charm to do
the dishes was to, as she put it, “teach him how to be a gentleman”), but he had been friends with
Hermione for long enough to know that listening to her was almost always the right thing to do. As
to the log she mentioned, he had never actually seen her keep a detailed travel journal of where
they had been, but it sure did sound like something Hermione would do.

“Alright, alright, so I can buy this whole ‘hole’ business, I guess,” Ron said as Hermione and
Harry retook their seats across the table. “But that only explains why you, ahem...” he paused a
second to choose the right words, a slight blush tinting his face, “shared a bed for that night.
She said that she was only a little bit ill, so why are you guys still sharing a room?”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other nervously.

“That’s the odd part,” Harry said honestly, running a hand through his hair. “The beds that we
have in here can only fit one person, so if I was going to sleep with...share the covers with
Hermione and not be lying on top of her,” Hermione let out an awkward cough at the sound of the
idea, “I dragged my cot over from my room to hers and...well...they kind of fused together.”

“They *what*?” said Ron, suspicion in his voice.

“You know...they sort of merged together into one, big mattress,” replied Harry weakly. It still
sounded ridiculous, even to him.

Ron blew air through his lips mockingly. “What a load of bollocks,” spat Ron. “Do you hear how
crazy that sounds?”

“It’s true!” cried Hermione in their defense.

“She’s right. There was this bright blue light as soon as I put my bed down next to her and
before I could do anything, they had combined,” reiterated Harry.

“Well that means,” everyone else jumped a bit in their seats as Ron rose from his chair with
haste. They watched carefully as he limped across the kitchen to the closed canvas flap which had
once been Harry’s room. Raising his arm to grab the tiny zipper which sealed the room off from the
rest of the tent, he opened the door with one powerful pull. Although the room was a bit dark
because of its distance from the main fire near the kitchen, it was easy to see that the room was
completely empty.

“Ronald, what are you doing?” asked Luna, completely enthralled with interest.

Ron grumbled an inaudible reply as he slowly made his way back across the table on his way to
the next room. Unlike the last one, this room’s door was open, the two parts which made up the
flimsy separator tucked neatly into hooks on opposite sides of the opening. Ron poked his head
inside and let out a quick “ah,” a signal that he was satisfied with what he had found. His figure
disappeared seconds later as he entered the dimly lit room.

“So you mean to tell me, that if I take *this,*” he answered a moment later as he
reappeared into the living room, carrying the cot he had found within. Harry shot up in fear. He
knew what Ron was going to do. Cautiously, he started to walk toward Ron, the girls following suit,
as he began to drag the cot to the final unexplored room in the tent. “And I put it right
here...”

“Ron, don’t!” Harry called helplessly as they all followed the red headed wizard into the room.
Before he could stop him from committing the same mistake he did, Ron slammed down the cot net to
the fourth and final bed. Almost instantaneously a dazzling sapphire light flashed, and sure
enough, all that was left was one perfectly combined two person mattress. The room fell silent,
Harry and Hermione stunned in disbelief that Ron had not listened to their warning.

Ron stared at the bed, more impressed than angry. “Wicked!” he said excitedly. Hermione rolled
her eyes. “Alright, now how do we undo it?”

“You can’t,” Harry groaned, taking a seat on the bed and rubbing his eyes. “Ever since that
night we’ve been trying to get our beds separated, but it’s seriously impossible.
Magic...cutting...literally anything you try to do to get them separated and they will seal up
immediately. Feel free to try, but it will just make you tired and frustrated.”

The color drained from Ron’s face as the realization of what he had just done started to process
in his mind. He took a seat next to Harry at the foot of the bed.

“Oh,” he sighed, staring blankly at some unknown spot, “That’s not good.”

“Of course that’s not good!” Hermione said coldly, glaring at him with her arms crossed. “If you
had just taken two seconds to trust us and listen to what we had to say---”

“Alright, alright,” Ron cut in with a wave of his hand, the anger in his voice gone. “You win, I
believe you. But what does that mean now? Who gets the rooms?”

“It’s simple, really,” Hermione spoke as they congregated back in the kitchen, “Luna and I will
get the rooms and you two boys will sleep out on the couches.”

“Hey, now wait a second,” Ron retorted, “just because you are girls does not mean you get
exclusive rights to the comfortable beds!”

“Ron, it’s called manners,” Harry stated plainly, although part of him was not looking forward
to sleeping on the stiff sofas Hermione was referring to.

“Ha, like he knows the first thing about being a gentleman,” Hermione said snidely.

“Well sorrrry, your majesty,” Ron spat back as he faked a bow in Hermione’s direction, “aren’t
you the one fighting for equal rights? What’s the point in fighting for house elf rights when men
like me are losing their rights to a comfortable place to sleep?”

Hermione scoffed, her anger flaring. “And what exactly would you happen to know about house elf
rights?”

“Alright you two, cut it out,” Harry said, annoyed. He supposed that it was a good thing that
they were back to their normal bickering, but as usual he found it to be pedantic and childish. A
shallow sigh escaped his mouth as, as usual, Ron and Hermione ignored his plea and continued to
argue, the subject getting further and further away from the original topic as they lost themselves
in their own little world.

“Well then, what do you want?” Hermione said after a few minutes, huffing. “Why don’t you and
Harry share a room then if you are going to be a baby about it?”

“Ugh,” Ron said, disturbed, “I am *not* sharing a bed with another guy!”

“Well then better get used to the floor!” Hermione shot back, triumphantly.

“Excuse me.”

The banter between Ron and Hermione stopped at Luna’s soft call. Somewhere amidst the volley of
hollers she had managed to plant herself firmly in the doorway to the now double room. Harry turned
his head with interest toward the younger witch. If two words from her could cease what he had been
struggling to find a way to stop for years, perhaps it was a good thing she had somehow ended up
tagging along. She stroked her chin and averted her gaze, deep in thought.

“I think,” she started, “that it only makes sense that Ronald and I share a room. That way,
Harry and Hermione can stay together as they were.”

“WHAT?” the trio shouted simultaneously. None of them were expecting Luna to say that.

She blinked. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Luna responded after an awkward silence, inhaling a huge breath of
air before continuing. “I SAID I THINK THAT---“

“We heard you just fine the first time!” cut in Hermione as Luna’s scream threatened to damage
her hearing.

“Oh, that’s good,” Luna responded at her normal shallow tone, relief displayed across her face
in the form of a faint smile. “I really don’t enjoy talking loudly.”

Ron stood up and marched his way to Luna, leaving Harry and Hermione watching intently from the
bed. Luna stood there smiling at him as if there was some happy melody stuck in her head. She
swayed to side from side absentmindedly, almost as if she had already moved on from her previous
declaration and had proceeded to melting back into the shadows.

“Let...let me get this straight, Luna,” Ron started to say in a shaky voice. His face was lit
with an embarrassed blush. “You want you...and me...us to...you want us to sleep in the same
*bed*?!”

Luna frowned. “Sure. Is there something the matter?”

“Are you completely BONKERS?! That’s just so...it’s not right!” Ron concluded as he stumbled to
find any sort of vocal stability. Luna just continued to stare at him as if he was the one not
making any sense. Her confidence in the correctness of her suggestions almost made her seem
arrogant, if not only naïve.

“I don’t see the problem,” she said flatly, like a child trying to comprehend why exactly the
sky was blue. “Harry and Hermione have been sleeping together for weeks and it hasn’t seemed to
affect their friendship, if that’s what you are worried about. I think we should be fine having a
go at it.”

Harry suppressed a laugh as Hermione shot him the same look she gave him and Ron whenever they
were whispering to one another during a lecture. Apparently she found no humor in their present
sleeping arrangements. Harry took a moment to roll his eyes as soon as she turned away.

“Luna,” Ron said, his vocabulary decreasing in size by the second. “But...we...no, just no! It’s
too...*weird*!”

Luna smiled. “It’s not *that* weird, Ronald. I mean, how long were we stuck in the cave
for? We were sleeping together there, weren’t we?”

“Sure, but that’s---“

“Well, it’s the same thing just...you know...” Luna took her two index fingers and gently met
the tips of each one in front of her nose. “...closer.”

Ron growled in frustration, violently scratching his head. He could find nothing else to
say.

“So,” Luna reached into her pocket and pulled three wands from it. She tossed the objects back
to their respective owners before disappearing from the room.

“If Ronald and I have been with one another the past couple of weeks and Harry and Hermione have
been with each other also,” Luna called back to them, her voice carried back to the trio through
the cool winter air, “it only makes sense, given our predicament, that that’s how it shall
remain!”

“But Luna,” Ron rebutted, “for a guy and a girl to share a same bed shows a certain amount
of...well, you know...”

“Intimacy?” Harry chided in.

“Yes, intimacy!” Ron agreed, pointing at Harry while continuing to look at Luna. “Don’t you find
it the least bit inappropriate?”

Luna shrugged. “As Hermione would say, as long as both people are absolutely platonic then the
practical solution, in terms of survival and comfort that is, would be for them to share a bed. If
there is no feelings involved, what’s the risk?”

Ron looked at Hermione, looking for some sort of argument. She was taken aback. She really
wanted to fight Luna. She wanted to find a way to finally get out of the
comfortable-yet-uncomfortable living arrangement she had been sharing with Harry for so long. But
yet, the younger witch had turned her most trustworthy weapon against her. To be honest, her
reasoning was so akin to something she would say that she swore Luna read her mind. All Hermione
could do was sigh dejectedly, admitting defeat. She stormed out of Ron and Luna’s newly anointed
room in frustration.

Harry got up, raising his arms far above his head in an attempt to crack his back. “Alright
then, well I guess that is that. I’ll give you guys time to, err, get used to everything. I better
go check on Hermione. Night.”

With a quick wave and a sigh of his own, Harry made his way across the tent to his and
Hermione’s room. He knew that she would not be too pleased with the events which had just
unfolded.

Slowly, Ron and Luna managed to find all their belongings and drop them onto the floor next to
their bed. They stood side by side, neither saying anything as they stared at their new resting
spot.

“Well,” Luna said first after the awkward silence, “this is going to be awkward.”

Ron placed his hands on his hips and nodded. “Yeah, but don’t worry about it. Whenever we had
relatives over at the Burrow Mum would force me and Percy to share a room with the twins. It was
crowded and everything, and at least we all had our own bed, but I reckon this can’t be that
dissimilar.”

“That’s true, but I wasn’t talking about that,” Luna responded.

“Then what’s up?” Ron asked, turning to face her. She frowned, still staring at the bed.

“Usually when I sleep in a bed, I do it in the nude.”



15. Unbottled
-------------

**Chapter 15: Unbottled**

When Harry tried to enter the bedroom, he was greeted by an unpleasantly bright light emanating
from the tip of a very frustrated looking Hermione’s wand.

“*Reparo! Reparo!! Reparo Reparo Reparo!!!”*

Hermione flung her wand at the tattered remains of their door flap as attempt after attempt of
her repairing spell fizzled against the canvas. Harry somehow managed to catch it after a bounce,
simultaneously scared and confused at Hermione’s sudden tantrum. He watched as her shoulders
slouched, burying her hands in her face as she let out an aggravated groan.

He gingerly approached the bed she was sitting on, walking on pine needles in fear of triggering
her wrath again. Attempting to calm her down, he placed a hand on her shoulder, which she quickly
brushed off as if it were an annoying bug. He silently brought the hand to his side as he stared at
her. The events of the day had both of them physically and emotionally drained, and it was
beginning to show. Her hair was even messier than usual, the occasional twig tucked unintentionally
within the mishmash of waves and curls. Her skin was marred by various bumps and bruises. Harry was
sure that he too looked like he had been thrown off his broom during an intense quidditch match. At
least he felt that way. He rubbed a particularly nasty welt which had grown above his left ear as
he attempted to talk to Hermione, this time without physical contact.

“Want to tell me what that was about?”

“Not really,” she mumbled from behind her knees, which were now tucked tightly in front of her
chin.

“Hermione...”

“Harry, today has just been...ughhh,” she let out another upset roar as she shook her head. A
sudden urge to throw the closest object welled up inside her, but she let it pass.

“Too much? Yeah, tell me about it,” Harry finished for her. They sat in a strained silence.
Although no words were spoken, Harry could sense that they both had much to say. He could tell that
Hermione was like a shaken bottle, on the edge of erupting but unable to do so due to a multitude
of emotions and overwhelming exhaustion sealing her lips.

“I was trying to repair the door,” Hermione said after a minute, her voice still muffled as she
continued to brood from her compact position. It took Harry a moment to realize that he was being
talked to, his own thoughts slowly encompassing him in an unpermitted slumber.

“Oh yeah? How did that go for you?” Harry replied half-awake, not even realizing what he was
saying. He heard shifting next to him, followed quickly by the familiar feeling of Hermione’s glare
piercing a hole into his brain.

“If I wasn’t so tired, I would give you a lecture about how stupid that question was,” Hermione
said, giving up and leaning her head on his shoulder. The action snapped him out of his trance, the
familiar smell of strawberries now laced with the bitter scent of mud and shrubbery. “Obviously,
it’s not working, and I have neither the patience nor the mental energy to even fathom an
explanation. It seems like everything today is just going from bad to worse.”

Both of them stared through the gaping hole where the wall had once been. They watched as Ron
struggled to bring the last of his belongings into his new abode. He was still limping, muttering
curses under his breath. Hermione couldn’t help but let a sadistic smirk find its way onto her
face.

“We can think about that later, but right now I think you need to rest,” Harry patted her back
consolingly before getting up and pulling one of their sheets off the bed. Hermione watched as
Harry managed to pin two corners of the linen in the crease between the tent ceiling and wall. It
was a shoddy job, the form of Ron’s body pacing between the entrance of the tent and his room still
visible via the fire in the main foyer projecting his silhouette toward the fabric, but it did
manage to give them some semblance of privacy.

“It’s not perfect, but until we figure out what’s wrong with fixing it magically, this will have
to do,” Harry said as he marveled at his handiwork before flinging himself back onto the bed, this
time lying down so he could stare at the shadows which danced on the canvas rooftop.

“Thanks, Harry,” she responded genuinely, standing up. She raised her hands high above her head
and cracked her back, a deep yawn escaping her throat involuntarily. As she slowly opened her eyes,
she turned her attention to the mirror which sat atop one of the dressers in the room. The rusted
bronze frame of the artifact deeply contrasted the polished shine of the glass, the once beautiful
floral pattern of the border now chipped and worn out with age. She sympathized with the trinket,
her usual clean and organized demeanor now diminished by the trials of the day. Hermione frowned as
she turned her head slightly to get a fuller view of herself. Her face had become haggard, bags
having formed under her eyes while small, scarlet cuts on her chin made it seem like Crookshanks
had mauled during one of her studying blitzes. Although she was not the type to over-obsess about
her appearance like other girls her age, she still felt like a disgusting wretch.

While her eyes continued to wander over herself in an attempt to gauge the damage the day had
wrought on her body, the corner of her eye caught a glimpse of the spectacled boy who was slowly
dozing off on the bed behind her. In her self-inspection she had almost forgotten that she was not
alone. Hermione looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her looks, an unusual feeling
seeing as how Harry had seen her in much worse condition several times during their life. In all
honesty he was probably not even paying attention, but his presence paired with her current state
of filthiness made her blush in embarrassment. Deciding to brush it off as the fatigue playing
tricks on her yet again, Hermione twirled her wand and casted a simple cleaning spell to remove the
blood and dirt from herself, making her feel, at the very least, a bit less like a savage.

“*Scourgify*!”

Harry leapt up as the familiar cooling sensation spiraled through his body like a wave.

“What was that for?” Harry said, scowling at Hermione as his surprised heart raced in reaction
to the unexpected spell suddenly being hurled towards him.

“Trust me, you needed it,” Hermione replied curtly, placing her wand next to the mirror before
rummaging through the top drawer.

“You could have at least warned me,” Harry said under his breath. A part of him was grateful to
her for cleaning him up, but his grumpiness was intensified by lack of sleep. Hermione ignored the
retort.

Harry watched as his counterpart removed a clean, pearl-colored nightgown from the dresser
drawer. He had become familiar with it, as it was her pajama of choice for the relatively warmer
nights on their journey. Although it was cold enough outside to easily cause swift frostbite to
unprotected flesh, somehow he too felt as if the tent had become almost uncomfortably warm with the
arrival of Ron and Luna. Lost in his musings, Harry suddenly found himself in eye contact with a
tired and agitated Hermione, who had her hand wrapped tightly around the garment while the other
one sat roughly on her hip.

“Out, please,” she said firmly, restraining the inexplicable desire to yell at him for no reason
at all except for wanting to collapse under the sheets as fast as possible. She did not like being
so irritable and restless, but she was too tired to care at the moment. At least she had the
decency to say please.

Harry sighed and pushed himself up. He ignored the Ron-like voice in his head trying to persuade
him to tell her off so he could sleep. Carefully, he snuck under the curtain, praying for
everyone’s sake that it would not tumble down at an unfortunate time. The last thing he needed was
Hermione thinking he was trying to peek at her changing, especially after all they had been through
before Ron and Luna had joined them.

He was surprised to find Ron still in the living room, pacing between the closed entranceway and
the flap to his own room, now zipped shut. He seemed very distraught about something.

“What’s wrong, Ron?” Harry asked, awakened slightly by the curious scene unfolding in front of
him.

“Oh, Harry,” Ron responded, startled at the sudden company. “What are you doing up?”

Harry pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Hermione’s changing.”

“I see,” Ron said, giving Harry an awkward smirk. Harry had no idea what emotion he was trying
to convey with the gesture.

“What about you? Same?” Harry asked, pulling one of the armchairs closer to the fire and sitting
in it.

“Not quite,” Ron said aghast, dragging a seat of his own over and joining Harry. His face
contorted as if he was having an internal struggle of some sort. Harry couldn’t help but look at
him, confused.

“What’s up, then?” Harry said, repeating his initial question.

“It’s Luna,” Ron replied, staring off into the ash piles forming at the foot of the fire.

“What about her?” Harry replied, his interest piqued.

“Well...” Ron trailed off, debating whether or not to tell Harry about the bombshell she had
dropped on him after the other two had scurried off to their room. He eventually decided that
getting advice from a separate party would be the best course of action. Admittedly, he wasn’t
exactly an expert when dealing with issues having to do with the opposite sex. He beckoned Harry
closer, bashful about what he was about to tell his best mate.

“Luna said that she sleeps,” he paused for dramatic effect, “*nude*!”

Harry blinked, taken aback. He did not expect that, although it was the sort of weird kink that
Looney Lovegood would be hiding under her sleeve. She had only been there a few hours and already
her simply odd nature was beginning to change the mood of the tent.

“What do you mean, *nude*?” Harry asked incredulously. Images of Luna in her natural state
began to form in his head, images which he berated himself for imagining. Harry had to use every
remaining ounce of mental energy to prevent the inappropriate thoughts from coming to complete
fruition.

“You know...starkers, *naked*!” Ron cried, still whispering in fear of either of the girls
hearing them. “How do you respond to something like that?!”

Harry gaped, unable to find words. True, as of late this sort of awkward type of dilemma had
become his unfortunate forte, but this was something he could not begin to rationalize like he had
with the other incidents. He began to wonder what he would do if Hermione had declared that she
would start sleeping in their shared bed with no clothes on.

Harry immediately regretted letting his mind wander down that alley, as now all too vivid images
of a naked Hermione began to swarm into his sleep-deprived brain. He could feel the blush crawl
onto his face as he pushed the scandalous thoughts to the darkest depths of his head.

“Wait,” Harry said, his eyes crunched together as the portraits of their two female companions
tried to sneak back to the foreground of his imagination, “you two have been staying together for
weeks and *now* this comes up?”

“Well she certainly kept her clothes on then!” Ron confirmed. He was almost hysterical now,
chuckling while running both hands through his tattered hair. “What should I do? She said that she
was freshening up for bed, but what if I unzip that door and she’s sitting there with her bits and
pieces flailing about?”

Ron made some crude gestures with his hands to illustrate his point. Harry did not appreciate
the visual aid.

“Alright, breathe for a second,” Harry said, racking his brain for a resolution. They both
stared at the door, half-expecting Luna to burst out of the room and strut around with no clothes
on like there were no eyes watching her. “I’m sure that she has enough decency to not just climb
into bed with you without anything covering her up.”

“Right,” Ron agreed. He laughed again, each syllable laced with anxiety and nervousness. “You’re
absolutely right. She’s crazy, but not *that* crazy!”

Harry simply nodded, watching as his friend attempted to convince himself that there was nothing
but a normal Luna waiting for him behind that closed door. There was a pause as Ron finally seemed
to come back to his senses, but Harry felt as if the root of Ron’s fear lay somewhere else. It
wasn’t long before the tension returned to Ron’s face, a new set of worries furrowing his brow and
starting a second panic attack.

“But I have to sleep with a *girl*!” Ron blurted out, almost pouting. Harry was scared he
was about to start weeping from fright.

“Oh please Ron, it’s not *that* bad,” Harry said, rolling his eyes at the red head’s
melodramatics. He was sure the words came out quite Hermione-like. “It’s only for a few hours a
night. Besides, you’re going to be asleep through most of it. Just make sure you try to stay on
your side of the bed and eventually it won’t even feel like she’s there, trust me.”

Harry purposely left out any mention of pillow walls, spooning, and the horrendous aftereffects
of natural male occurrences. He knew that it was for the best for Ron to think of sharing a bed as
nothing more than a juxtaposition of bodies. The roller coaster of awkwardness was something he
could discover on his own. It was a few silent minutes before Harry stood up and patted his friend
comfortingly on the shoulder.

“You gonna be alright, mate?”

Ron simply bobbed his head up and down, biting his lower lip in contemplation. Harry
half-heartedly said his goodnights before making his way back toward his room.

He gently tapped the canvas to inform Hermione of his arrival, taking extra caution not to touch
the fragile entrance cloth.

“Come in, I’m all done.”

Harry lifted the flap and climbed his way into their bedroom. Hermione had finished changing,
her dirty robes from the day now folded neatly on top of the armchair on her side of the room. She
was directly in front of the foot of the bed, adjusting the pile of pillows which were previously
stacked in the corner into a sturdy little separator wall over the sheets. It was a nightly ritual.
Whoever was in bed first would make the barrier before getting in, the buffer now more a precaution
than a necessity. Hermione turned her head.

“Hey, can you hand me that last pillow over there? I’m almost done.”

Harry turned his head toward where she was pointing. He took two brisk steps toward the corner
of the room and picked up the last remaining pillow, the once pristine white fabric now sullied by
dust and dirt. After brushing it with the corner of his sleeve in a vain attempt to clean it, Harry
placed it in Hermione’s outstretched hand. She grunted at him in thanks.

He watched as Hermione bent over to place the final piece onto their fluffy wall. The motion
caused her nightgown to rise up her back slightly. Harry’s eyes immediately focused on the
unexpected movement, a survival instinct he had developed ever since his first year at Hogwarts. He
had trained himself to prepare for the unexpected at a moment’s notice.

But no amount of training had prepared him for the sight of Hermione’s underwear peeking out
from under the hem of her nightgown.

Harry had turned his entire body as soon as he realized what he was looking at, but it was too
late. The damage was done. The previous thoughts that he had been attempting to repress, the
naughty images of Hermione completely nude under their covers, came rushing to his consciousness as
if a dam had burst. It felt to Harry as if he were committing a cardinal sin for thinking of his
bedmate in such a way. He almost felt incestuous for seeing his strictly platonic friend in such an
*unfriendly* way. Although the images weren’t nearly as filthy or erotic as they could have
been, Harry still could not shake the overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame which blended with
the hormonal excitement. The combination elicited emotions he would have preferred not to be having
about the girl behind him.

“Harry?” Hermione said gently. She poked Harry’s arm in puzzled concern. The contact sent pure
electric up Harry’s shoulder and down his spine. He felt as if the room was on fire, a thousand
different pictures flashing in his mind’s eye like a movie. All he could do was keep his eyes
focused on his dresser, unable to decide how he would react if he turned to face Hermione.

“It’s nothing,” Harry waved her off as she attempted to circle around him to see his face. His
words came out almost angry, causing her to back off. He sighed and rubbed his scar, the pulsing
beginnings of a migraine starting to make his vision blurry.

Hermione tucked herself under a thick comforter as she watched Harry’s tense form, her breath
held in concern. It seemed to her as if he was about to explode. She feared that his mind was being
invaded by the perverse thoughts of the Dark Lord once again. Under the sheets she gripped the
smooth fabric of her nightgown, the tension almost snapping the shoulder straps clean off.

It was several prolonged minutes before Hermione saw Harry’s shoulders relax. Somehow he had
managed to pacify the battle occurring in his brain, at least to the point where he could think
clearly. He turned around and gave her a smile which affirmed his well-being. She sighed in relief,
releasing the stranglehold on her clothing.

“Want to tell me what that was about?” Hermione asked cautiously, an almost perfect rendition of
the same exact question he had asked her earlier.

“Just Ron getting into my head, that’s all,” Harry replied smirking. He undid the clasp of his
robe and slid the garment gently onto the back of a nearby chair. “Nothing I’m sure you don’t know
about already.”

Hermione smiled and rolled over slightly, now facing away from Harry as he continued to undress.
Although they rarely slept together at the same time due to the rotating guard shift, they had
developed a routine for the exceptionally cold or unusually safe nights where they both could nap
simultaneously. Hermione would change first, forcing Harry to leave the room in the process, then
when she had finished Harry would reenter and perform his own attire swap.

She had scolded Harry the first time he had started to undress with her in the room, feeling as
if the act was breaching the unwritten rules of their male/female friendship contract. Harry had
turned around and looked at her unbelievingly.

“Hermione,” he started, “how old are you?”

She did not appreciate his berating tone, the irony of the reversal of usual roles lost on her
for the moment.

“Let’s face it: you’ve already practically seen me naked back during the second task of the
Triwizard Tournament,” Harry reasoned with her, his shirt half undone by that point.

“Did not!” Hermione fought back. “Or did you forget that I was unconscious and practically
drowning the entire time?”

Harry cringed. She had him there. But still, he could not see why she was getting in such a rut
about it. “Alright, fine,” he conceded, “but still, you have seen me shirtless in the hospital wing
after all the accidents I’ve had, haven’t you?”

“Yes but...”

“And you’ve seen me in shorts before in the common room after quidditch practice, have you
not?”

“Well, true but still...”

“Well there you go, then! Boxers are practically the same. Put the two together, and it’s no big
deal, is it?”

Hermione wished she could hex the victorious smile off Harry’s lips. She cursed herself for
teaching her two boys to learn to fight with logic as well as they could with weapons and magic.
Although she sneered at him, she raised her hands in surrender.

“Fine, go ahead,” she surrendered, “but at least let me roll over. I swear I don’t know how I’ve
put up with you boys for this long...”

Hermione smiled at the memory as the noise of Harry slipping on his sleeping shorts and worn-out
T-shirt mingled with the sound of the breeze outside their wall. Soon after, she felt her side of
the bed rise up in a swell as Harry joined her under the comforter. His entire body disappeared
behind the pillows as he used his wand to dim the small torch that hung near the entrance flap.
Even the shadows from the foyer had seemed to dwindle, a tell-tale sign that Ron and Luna had also
settled in for the night. Hermione smiled. The day was finally over. It was finally time to
rest.

The night hushed as private meditation overtook the inhabitants of the tent. A gentle, cool
breeze replaced the harsh winter gusts which had plagued the area the previous handful of days. The
small cackling flame from the vigilant night lamps entwined with the pitter-patter of snowflakes
against canvas, creating an ambiance reminiscent of a distant Christmas morning. Despite the solemn
atmosphere and the cry of weakened flesh for well-overdue regeneration, both Harry and Hermione
stared at the ceiling with squinted, exhausted eyes.

Harry was the first to break the lull which had surrounded them, now able to reflect on the
eventful day as a whole.

“Hermione?” he whispered through the wall, somehow knowing that she was awake without being able
to see her.

“Yes?” she responded in an equally soft tone.

“When did you make the hole?” Harry smiled to himself. He had been shocked when Hermione had
told him to show Ron the imaginary hole which had supposedly caused the scandalous sleeping
arrangement fiasco. However, after having time to think about it, she had probably predicted all
along that Ron would need to see the evidence to believe their lie. Even when he thought they were
working in unison, Hermione was always one step ahead. Harry felt an odd sense of pride toward her
ability to lie so diligently. Hermione smirked mischievously.

“While I and the dolt were having our chat outside,” Hermione started, her hatred for Ron so
high at the moment that she even found grammatical ways to put herself above him, “he ducked out of
the way of one of my canaries which were flying straight for his eye. The poor thing barreled right
into the wall, causing the rip you saw. The idiot was probably too scared to realize it.”

“One of your small canaries? A bird that tiny must have been travelling at deadly speeds to
create a hole that big,” Harry said, astonished that Hermione would be going for a kill shot. The
sudden shifting of the sheets under him suggested that Hermione had shrugged indifferently at his
observation. “Well either way, thanks.”

Silence fell between them once again, the spurt of mirth caused by their secret deception now
lost amongst more serious thoughts. Harry looked skyward as he relived the emotions of the day.
Instantly he once again felt the exhilaration of following the silver doe straight to Gryffindor’s
sword, the fear of watching Hermione fall victim to the scarlet beam of the accursed locket, and
the happiness he felt upon laying his eyes on Ron for what felt like the first time in ages.

It had come to Harry as a surprise how positively he had reacted to his other friend’s heroic
return. Ever since Ron had abandoned them he had been seesawing between hatred and longing toward
him. Seeing Hermione yearning for him to come back had ripped his heart out of his chest and
intensified his anger toward the red-headed wizard, but deep down Harry knew that he wanted him
back as much as she did.

His thoughts now turned toward the girl on the other side of the mattress. Although she had
lashed out at Ron that night and vented a bit of her frustration, Harry could feel the anguish
still radiating from her every pore. He frowned at himself. As happy as he was that Ron was back,
he knew that his arrival reopened the gaping wounds which Hermione had been trying so desperately
to mend.

“Hermione?” Harry called her name once again, this time more tender and serious. The air in the
room suddenly disappeared as he felt the sheets curl towards the pillow wall.

He knew that she was thinking about it too.

Harry paused, debating if he should ask the question that was on both of their minds. Was he
overstepping his boundaries with his concern for Hermione? Part of him told him that it wasn’t his
business. If she wanted to talk about it, she would. But ever since Ron had left he had taken upon
himself to be her crutch. She had never asked for it, but he felt bound to do everything he could
to never see her soul so tortured ever again. It hurt him more than he could have ever anticipated
seeing Hermione, the strong and independent young woman he had known for seven years, turned into
nothing more than a scarred and demoralized wreck.

Much like she had never left his side when he was at his worst, he too vowed to always be there
for her in her time of need.

“Hermione, are you ok?”

“Yes, Harry...” Hermione started to speak but her voice cracked, her words being quickly
replaced with gasps as she felt the tears well up inside her. She promised herself that she was
done crying over this. She told herself countless times, almost chanted it to herself like a mantra
that she was over the suffering that had occurred when Ron had left. But seeing him again that day
made it all come back to her tenfold. Now, with nothing left to distract her mind from the painful
whispers of the past come back to life, the calloused fortress around her heart began to crumble.
She could feel that she was about to break.

As soon as the first pristine tear streamed down the side of her cheek, the sound of pillows
flying through the air and landing on the ground echoed through the room. Harry did not have to
wait for the sound of the painful, sorrowful gasp to know that Hermione needed him. Like magnets,
their bodies came together, her head landing on his chest as the first wave of powerful sobs took
over. He grabbed her, placing one hand gently on the back of her neck while the other wrapped
around her waist under the covers. She clenched his shirt as if clinging to life itself, the
convulsions so powerful she felt as if she were generating earthquakes.

Harry did not speak. He did not rub her back and tell her that everything was going to be fine.
Not this time. He knew that all she needed to do now was let out every emotion she had been
bottling up since she had realized who had saved them from the opening in the forest. She was
falling, and he had to be her net.

“I hate him! I hate him so much, Harry, I hate him!” Hermione said between unsteady breaths. He
listened intently, knowing that this was a one-sided conversation. “I hate him for leaving, I hate
him for coming back! I hate him for everything he did to you and me! For everything he forced us to
do alone!”

She let another fresh set of tears loose, staining Harry’s faded blue shirt a damp shade of
gray. Hermione gripped onto him tighter as her words continued to flow out of her swollen
throat.

“But most of all I hate myself, Harry. I hate myself so much for letting him affect me this way.
I hate myself so much for what I let myself turn into because of him. But most of all, I bloody
hate myself for being glad that he is here now. I really want to hate him, spit on him and forget
him forever, but I can’t! And it hurts so much! It hurts so much, Harry...”

Harry held her closer as Hermione lost her ability to speak, a single teardrop of his own
rushing into her hair with sympathy. He wanted so bad to take away some of her pain, to somehow
burden himself with her broken heart. But he couldn’t. This was her battle, and he could only
embrace her as the sorrow snaked its way out of the depths of her soul.

“I know, Hermione,” he responded softly as her exhaustive tears lulled her into the world of
dreams.

“I know.”