Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and have fundamentally changed the story.
Author's Note: Here's another quick update. I hope you enjoy it, as always let me know what you think and what I should work on.
They all knew Voldemort's empire hadn't reached this far outside London yet. For one thing the beach was not perpetually overcast and raining like so much of London was. Harry wasn't sure how Voldemort had managed to control the weather for so long or why, and a more fanciful part of him believed it to be the Earth rebelling against the situation. Harry had spent much of the last few days working on his exercises. He was determined to get more than just healed, he needed to fix himself. It seemed like the bone had set wrong when they healed his leg. It made Hermione nervous but Ron had capitulated.
They had gotten a rough bit of leather torn from a chair in the hotel corner and had Harry bite down while Ron twisted his leg sharply. The leg broke on the weakened area again. This time Hermione had a more practiced spell to reset Harry's leg. The pain was still intense but his limp was going away. They had managed to sneak into the room with magic, since the Muggles likely wouldn't have taken Wizard money. While Harry did his laps around the neighborhood Ron and Hermione had found other ways to occupy their time.
Ron was working on making a map of all the occupied territory they had discovered throughout the Wizarding world. He planned to use it to help make tactical takedowns for the resistance he insisted was rising up even now. His map was getting better as he collect information from newspapers and the TV. He had some plans cooking in his head, but had some research he needed to do to pull them off. He was putting it off though. He told Harry that one of the unintended pluses of not going back to school this year was that he didn't have to read up on musty magical history.
Hermione on the other hand had done pretty much just that. She had finished translating the book Dumbledore had left her and had moved on to the more complex tomes she had brought with her. Her work on Horcruxes was more and more promising by the day. She did this largely as a way to keep her mind of Harry and the pain he must be in. She wanted to talk to him, comfort him, be his pillar through this tough time. However it was difficult to get a moment. Harry had taken to avoiding her and ever the lapdog Ron had gone along with him.
Which is why one morning while Harry was out running his laps he was surprised to see her come up alongside him. Her speed was good, but more so she had managed to scare up some rather tight running clothes from somewhere. Harry tried to pull ahead but she kept up. He wanted to escape but she didn't let up on him. After several moments he felt like risking it. His nose was busted up, his leg was still in pain most of the time and his chest burned when sweat hit it, but he was known for being crazy on occasion. So he let out a huge breath and pushed himself forward into a full run.
He ran flat out for several minutes, the wear and tear on his body a constant reminder that running full out was not a wise choice. He looked back to she her sprinting behind him. She was gaining speed. She was gaining on him. Harry reached deep inside himself and found something more. He threw his legs down double time, his feet slapping the pavement with painful force. He tore through most the streets, but regardless she was on his tail. He couldn't lose her so he figured he'd shake her.
He made a sharp turn and vaulted over a low standing chain link fence and raced down the back streets of the quaint town they were staying in. She stayed on him like glue. He began to make dangerous turns all over the place. Jumping through back streets and hurling himself full speed through alleys and roads until finally he ran clear through the suburb and reached a forest on the far end. He looked back and smiled. He had lost her. Suddenly there was a crack nearby. Harry whipped his head around in time to see a blur slam into him. His legs buckled and his head hit the grass behind him.
He looked up to see Hermione straddling his waist. The sight was slightly overwhelming. It seemed so intimate to him, so sexual. Well except for how pissed off she looked. She stared daggers into his head. He turned his face so she couldn't see him. He knew it didn't matter but it was comforting. He needed something comforting because he knew what was coming.
"You plan on ever talking to me again?" She sounded far more hurt than he expected her to. He turned his head to see her face. She was crying. What had he done to her? She was always so strong but she came apart around and about him all the time any more.
"I'm not.." His excuse died in his throat, "I'm. I'm sorry." He finally whispered.
"Why? Why Harry?" She was getting emotional, "Don't you see how much this is hurting me? Don't you care how I feel? Why goddamn you!"
"It's just…" He searched the sky behind her head waiting for the answer to come to him. When it didn't he went with the truth. "It's just easier this way."
"What?" She was confused. With confusion always comes anger, "Are you still trying to boot me out? Push hard enough on me Harry and you'll push me out of your life! You have to stop trying to protect me!"
"IT"S NOT ABOUT YOU!" He shouted with his head pulled as far from the ground as he could manage while being pinned, "It's easier for me."
"I.." She stuttered. "I don't understand. Easier for you?"
"You fuck it all up, Hermione." He forced her off of him so he could raise into a sitting position. "You mess up my head, you spin me in circles and you goddamn confuse me! I need to see it all Herm. I need to see the scope of it."
"How do I prevent you from-" She began.
"Because all I can think about is you!" He cut her off. "You don't get it. You're always on my mind. Always. I try to do something, I try to work it out and I go to this place in my head, the place where I think it all through. There you are. I go anywhere in my head, and there you are. I think about how you smell, how you laugh, I traced the curves of your face…your body. I think about that night. I think about us. I lose sight of everything else."
"So…you're ignoring me so you can concentrate?" She said flabbergasted.
"I know it sounds stupid. I know that. " He closed his eyes, "But if I can just make it through this thing with you alive…it'll all be worth it."
"What?" She asked, "What'll be worth it?"
"The sacrifice." He answered plainly. "Everything I've been through. Birth to now. All the stupid shitty pain and anguish. All the death, all the..the..the fuck! Everything! Look at me! I'm beat to hell, my face is so fucked up I don't recognize myself in a reflection. I've kept it. I'm risking the disfigurement."
"So no one else will recognize you either?" She put forward.
"Yeah." He took her hand in his, "If they don't recognize me…it's okay to be in love with you. You're less of a target."
She kissed him then. It was a moment so profound between the two of them that the passing time seemed to do so without notice of them. Sound blanketed to a muffle. The cool air got warmer and the two of them got lost in one another. She loved him. Everything he had done to protect the world. To protect her. Her love poured into the kiss. Every kiss they shared seemed like the first. Every stolen moment in the few weeks. Every missed opportunity. It was these moments when the two could be themselves. In each other's arms they were never more free.
They recessed further into the woods. Their passions growing, the thirst for each other seemingly infinite. They moved deep into the woods, where they could scream and moan without drawing attention. Once to a place of safety they ravished each other. Loving physically the way they wished the could love all the time. Open and honest, pure and beautiful. Harry was finally at peace when he was inside her. She swelled with him there, clamped him in tightly, never wanting him to leave her. There in that forest as one for the first time since so long ago in that storm racked room in the House Black. She needed this, he needed it more.
When they were finished she rested into him. Cuddled him as he did back. Her skin glowed and his face had a smile on it for a change. He pulled her in close and kissed her. They both knew that they were done with words. They had no need for them anymore. All they needed was each other and the cool breeze on their naked skin. This was what he imagined heaven to be. Just him and her. Peace from the weight of his fate. Love. These were the best moments of his life. She, as was always the case with brightest witch of her age, knew all of this. And she loved him all the more for it.
* * *
Ron was reading one of Hermione's books. She had told him that he could float off and die if he kept her from following Harry out this afternoon. He of course told her that he understood, and hoped she bed him well. Though he didn't tell her that last part. He decided that since they would likely be out for awhile and he was once more alone he might as well finally crack the book he had been eyeing in her collection.
He had been thinking about how best to get around Godric's Hollow since they were wanted fugitives. But more so about how to get away. They couldn't rely on speed to get away from the Death Eaters. They were outnumbered and outclassed at every step and in every way. They had to be clever. Harry had seemed to figure it out before anyone else had. They were Guerilla warriors now. Resistance fighters. They had to rely on wits.
If they could get in with a good disguise and out with a better one they were all set. Only problem was they couldn't rely on potions. Potions were great, but they had to be brewed. Brewing takes time. In guerilla warfare the only one with time for great weapons is the other side. They needed speed and trickery and they needed an ace in the hole. If they couldn't rely on better weapons they had to rely on better skills.
Which is why Ron curled into a cozy corner of the stolen hotel room and curled up with a large dusty tome. A large dusty tome about Transfiguring. Ron had gotten the idea from Harry's Dad and Sirius and from Tonks. If they could learn it, the three of them could. Three parts talent, ninty-seven parts pig headed stubborn. That's how Harry and Ron did magic anyway. Hermione was more talented, but also an exceptional teacher. Ron was sure they could pull this off. They'd have to. The war effort depended on them becoming masters. Scary thought, he said to himself.